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From Russia, With Love...Part 3
By : Number9Dream
Category: WWF/WWE > General
Views: 1211 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0Disclaimer: I do not know Vladimir Kozlov personally. I am not making any money off of this story, and it is a work of fiction. Nothing written in this story has actually happened. -
Chapter List
- 1-From Russia, With Love...Part 3
- 2-Getting On
- 3-Dr. Woodrow
- 4-The Call
- 5-The Meeting
- 6-John's Party
- 7-Fancy Seeing You Here
- 8-At The Suggestion Of Dr. Woodrow...
- 9-Reconnecting
- 10-Let's Spend The Night Together...
- 11-Dr. Woodrow Scolds Vladimir
- 12-Fighting the Tension
- 13-Jeanine
- 14-Dr. Woodrow, Part 2
- 15-Fighting More Tension
- 16-Decent Proposal
- 17-They Surrender
- 18-Tragedy Strikes
His alarm rang early and he struggled to pull himself out of bed, feeling as if he wasn’t ready to get up and escape his dream world. It seemed like everything was alright there; he wasn’t having to go through all this. He got dressed and left for work. Some days he felt as if he didn’t have a purpose. Then he remembered that he did.
Work, as usual, was physically and mentally draining. Every time he went there he felt like the guys there knew what was going on, and like they were whispering behind his back. He was always on edge. He usually did find something to keep him happy, but it was usually something shallow like professional wrestling or playing football with his roommate. He never really got that feeling of fullness. Sometimes his roommate would suggest a strip club or something, but he felt like there was something wrong about that. He couldn’t bring himself to do it because he thought of what she might think if he did that. And still…those girls weren’t her.
He sat on the couch that day next to John, his roommate, who had the T.V. turned on.
“What do you want to watch, man?”
“I don’t care.”
“Would you cheer the fuck up?”
“I try.”
“Sometimes it amazes me how miserable you are.”
“Me, too.” He sat there watching John flip through the channels and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. He saw that he had a text message and his heart skipped a beat. He opened it as his heartbeat sped up with every second. He hoped to God it was her, but his heart sank into his stomach as he discovered it was one of his friends from work asking him to come out to drink with him. He resisted the temptation, and ignored it.
“What do you want to eat?”
“Whatever you want.”
“Okay…we can have Chinese food again.”
“Okay.” They sat on the couch for a few hours and didn’t talk to each other, and then they ate dinner on the couch. He took his phone out of his pocket again and stared at it.
“Would you stop it, man?”
“I go to bed now, okay?” He stood up, threw his plate away, and went into his room. He missed the real plates that he had at home and hated that he had to eat off of paper plates. He also hated that he was eating takeout almost every night. Reluctantly, he laid down in his bed…the bed that felt so empty. He pulled her shirt close to him and struggled to go to sleep.
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