Coddiwomple

Seth doesn't know what to think of his life anymore. At one moment, he'd been at the top of the world, doing his best to show everyone just what he was made of.

The next moment, he was trapped in some facsimile of a normal life. He was trapped, and the essence of who he had been ran his utterly bizarre world.

At first, time moved normally.

The sun rose, it hung low in the sky at midday and it went down, revealing a moon that was constantly full. There were no calendars in the fun house- lest the people trapped there realize the extent of their hell. The only way one might mark the passage of time was by the light streaming in through the perfectly clear panes of glass.

Then, it changed.

The days blended seamlessly into each other. The only way Seth could tell any sort of time was by a series of tick marks, written faintly on the bathroom wallpaper in a blunt Dixon-Ticonderoga pencil that he'd stolen when Bray wasn't looking.

One day became two. Two days became three... and so on. Before he even realized it, 3 months and 3 days had passed.

Then, he appeared, willing to bargain.

Satiate Bray and it will all make sense.

Seth agreed.

They married beneath the boughs of a tree drawn on the wall in crayon, the ceremony given to them by the boss who preached about the virtues of money and what a joy combined income could be to their marriage. When he pronounced them married and could kiss, Seth pecked Bray on the lips- surprised that he felt some bizarre affection for this man.

Affection or pity for this nightmare- Seth couldn't quite decide.

Seth Rollins had never envisioned himself marrying anyone- let alone the likes of Bray Wyatt- man of a million faces. He could have said no- He had given him a choice, but Seth didn't see the problem.

It was better than what came after- something that while he didn't entirely understand, he knew it changed people.

Just look at Finn.

Bray was only home a few nights a week- a fact Seth found himself grateful for. On those other nights, he assumed Bray hunted- Seth had never figured out whether or not it was with him or as him.

One might have expected boredom with this kind of life, but not Seth.

It wasn't as mindless as one might have expected. There were chores to do. The Funhouse friends needed to be cared for the way one might care for a small child. Seth had a routine- the likes of which he never expected.

Up by 7 with breakfast made- everyone had different likes and dislikes. Huskus was on a diet. Abby was a vegetarian- and she hated salt. She claimed it burned. Ramblin' Rabbit ate what Seth ate- and must always be kept apart from Mercy- lest he end up dead on Seth's watch- far from the relief of the 'heal' glove.

Then, there were fights to smooth over. Playtime to supervise. Lessons to be taught.

Lunch. More weird dietary restrictions and sides of beef for Mercy. Seth had never been one to cook. Yet, he learned to do it and almost enjoy it.

More playtime. Afternoon naps for those who needed it. Pillows and stories- generic fairy tales where no bad ever came to anyone.

Dinner. Another round of cleaning the kitchen, making sure everything gleamed and sparkled- just waiting for Bray's (possible) return.

Bedtime. The Friends were tucked into their beds. Mercy's cage was locked- lest he decide Ramblin' Rabbit looked like a great midnight snack. Seth took care in looking after his charges- they were like his stepchildren in a way.

Part of Seth wanted to see Him- obviously, he had chosen him for a reason. The Fiend only sought out the best. Finn. The ones people knew by only a name. Foley. Lawler. Kane. What had made Seth part of that group?

He needed to know.

Then, one day, Bray came home in a flustered frenzy. He was coming to dinner. Bray had to be in his Ancient Sumerian language class- it was the only way to fix the fax machine. He'd be home in time for coffee and dessert.

Seth swallowed, the lump in his throat growing ever larger and he grimly nodded.

This was his time for answers.

The Friends were fed and put to bed early, complaining the entire time that it wasn't time for bed and they weren't a bit sleepy. Seth promised a treat in the morning- this was the kind of thing that only happened every so often.

He showed up, promptly at 6. He refused Seth's offers of food and drink, preferring to sit quietly at the table. When Seth placed his apron on the wall and sat across from him, he watched, as He rested his hand on Seth's arm.

You help him. He helps you. Your life...it has purpose.

Seth blinked, realizing he could hear the low rumble of him deep in the back of his head. It hadn't occurred to him that Seth had never heard his voice.

You were an architect with no foundation. You had pillars but no home for them. You needed roots. I gave you that.

Seth sunk into the words, feeling the warm flush of their meaning come over him. Nothing had made sense since before everything. Hadn't Bray said just that?

If you love something too much, it makes you weak.

Yes... love did make you weak. There was no denying that. On the other hand... love made you strong. Hadn't Lao Tzu said something like that?

“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.”

Seth sipped on a glass of wine, as he contemplated his realization.

It will all stabilize. When the time is right, you will have the choice to return, with a renewed energy. The question though- will you want to?

With that, he nodded his thanks, rose from the table and swiftly exited.

Seth sat in stunned silence, as he tried to understand everything that just happened. None of it made sense, and yet, he understood it on some molecular level.

This would all work out. It would just take time.

Still thinking, he rose, grabbing the porcelain cake stand off the counter. He set it on the table, and removed the glass dome, revealing the lime-glazed bundt cake. Glancing over his shoulder, he realized Bray was due home at any time.

It would only be right to greet him with a bit of cake and a conversation.

Seth turned the percolator on, grateful he had prepared it earlier He couldn't help wondering if a Keurig might work in the funhouse. Chewing on his lower lip, he made a mental note to ask Bray once he settled down.

He pulled two pink coffee cups with matching saucers down from the cabinet. Setting them on the table, he crossed the kitchen and pulled the milk out of the refrigerator. Neither of them cared much for sugar, and the cake would be sweet enough.

The backdoor opened, pulling Seth out of his thoughts. He turned, holding his arms open.

For the first time, he greeted Bray with a welcome home kiss.

-end-