Academy: Sleepwalking, a wrestling fanfic

I was nineteen.

He was twenty.

We broke up.

And that was it.

Fate. I've never believed in such a word. To me there never was such a thing. Actually, back then, when I was young and unaware, maybe I did believe in it. Maybe I did believe in the whole "love at first sight" and "forever after". Maybe…but that's not what I believe now.

Twenty years has a way of doing that. At first it was like a living hell. Forgetting, that is. No matter I did, no matter who I did it with, the day he left would never leave my mind. I tried alcoholism. It turned out to be a false religion. I tried marriage. My wife – Stephanie – decided to – after three years of marriage –to annual our relationship and seek love elsewhere. She found it in another woman. We didn't fight or proclaim a court divorce solely because I was to take over as Headmaster of her father's High School.

Academy High. The best of the best. The school every kid wanted to attend. I now rule it with an iron fist.

But, back to fate. Point is, I've never really believed in that stuff anymore. I guess he did take more than I thought the day he left. At the very least though, I find it easier – as I sit here at this café – to think fondly about him. And as time passes by, my memory of him has begun to fade away.

Twenty years is a long time. It just hasn't been enough to change my beliefs.

"Hi there." I stopped the mug halfway to my lips and throw my eyes up nonchalantly to the man standing ahead. "Can I sit here?"

Fate. I've never believed in it.

I think I must have nodded. I think I must have said yes. I just don't recall doing that. But either way, the man takes the seat ahead of me. And he smiles just like he did twenty years ago.

I can already feel my heart racing erratically.

"The name's Shawn." I froze with my hand still on the mid-air mug. "What's yours?"

Dear God.

Buddha.

Confucius.

Allah.

Somebody.

Please answer me now. I want to know what I've done to deserve this. As if waking up one day to the sight of being dumped wasn't enough. Now – twenty freaking years later – I have to spend the rest of my waking days watching the man I loved…still…probably…go on with his daily life in hapless disconnection from the truth that is simply this:

He was once my lover.

/What the hell?/ Ever since that day in the café, I've been thinking those words a lot. What the hell indeed. At first, I had believed that the caffeine was getting to my head and had distorted my hearing. With that, I had decided to reply with a small laugh and a casual "hey Shawn. It's so nice to see you. How have you been buddy?" to which Shawn (aka, the man who I was with for close to three years) replied with a look of real confusion and an equally realistic "sorry. Do I know you?"

/What the hell?/ I lean back in my leather chair, exasperated with my own repetitive thoughts. I had spent nearly half my lifetime trying to erase him completely from memory, and just as I was getting used to thinking of him as a figure in the past, Shawn comes back with the loss of memory I yearned for. /No! No way!/ I frowned angrily at the ceiling. /He couldn't have forgotten about me like that!/ My heart hurt. I felt like crying. Damn it.

"Knock knock." I look forward and see Shawn standing in the doorway, wearing that playful grin I had come to fall for time and time again. What twenty years had done to me, it had not done to Shawn Michaels. I had aged, gotten bigger, fitted in suits. Shawn was smaller, his skin kissed by the beautiful side of age, and that boyish twinkle in his eyes had not faded in the least. I had to stop myself from wanting him, as much as I wanted him right now. "Can I come in?"

/You're already in./ "Yeah." I spoke through a harsh breath. My hands fell clasped on top of the desk. No matter how hard I squeezed, I couldn't stop shaking. "What is it?"

He saunters in with a seductive gait. The last time I checked, he didn't walk like that. If a comparison could be made, then it would be that Shawn now walked like a girl –hips soothingly swinging from a strong left to a strong right. I cursed myself for even noticing. "I wanted to hand in that report regarding the newbies."

"Newbies?" I asked whilst taking the folder from him. Despite being a technologically advanced era and school, Shawn was – much like his own person – stuck in a time before computers. He was a reclusive when it came to knowing how to operate the machinery, and so I came to expect that he would be doing a lot of his work (as the Academy's guidance and student councilor) by hand. Regardless, I flipped through the folder – taking a lot of care to let my eyes linger on the pictures stapled to each file. Twenty years, and even though he had obviously forgotten me, I still could not bring my eyes to meet him. "Wade Barrett. Justin Gabriel. Heath Slater. Skip... Okay I got it." I look to him – trying my best to hold a secure frown on my face. It did wonders when it came to hiding my eyes. "They're already enrolled so why are bringing this to me?"

"Oh." He replied to a look of slight confusion. "W-When did they enroll?"

My frown lessened as I thought of a thousand things to say to that. Instead, I went with the truth. "Yesterday. You brought me their folder. You enrolled them, Shawn."

And just like it had been for the past three weeks, Shawn's face instantly lights up to the embarrassment of the realization. "O-Oh." He replied sheepishly. It didn't help things any as my mind quickly ran to those three years we spent together. And instantly I wished I could have them all back. "I'm sorry." Just like that his smile returns. The moment vanishes. "I must have forgotten."

"Like you did us." Crap! The second that flew out of my mouth, I knew how much I never wanted to say it. Normally, I'd try to cover up. But this time I didn't. Maybe it was a mistake, but even so, I was going to let it go and see what kind of damage it would do.

Shawn stood silent for an unbearable length of time, before dropping his smile to the crushing impact of subtle sadness rippling across his face. I had hit a mark. I knew I had hit a mark. "I keep telling you." He looks to me with the very same sympathy he wove the night we broke up. Or rather, the night he left without a trace. "I don't know who you are. I'm sorry."

I wanted scream something out. Something far more impactful than the word "liar!" But I never did. Instead, I just clenched my hands until the knuckles turned white in order to subside the feeling of outrage. Once a sense of calm returned, I was able to give him a response.

"Don't be." A well-practiced smile etched onto my face. "It's my fault for jumping to conclusions." And like I always have, I play into his game. "You just look a lot like someone I once knew. I'm sorry."

We stared at each other. I had said all I needed to say. However, it was apparent that Shawn hadn't, because the longer we looked at each other, the more fidgety he became. I decided to hear him out, and soon he opened his lips to speak.

Then the phone rang. I looked to it – almost angrily – only to see the name on the screen.

"Stephanie?" Shawn spoke from another world. I glanced to him – long enough to catch that indescribable sadness that sat on him face. It was that look alone that prompted me to think that maybe, just maybe, a part of him couldn't forget. And so maybe, just maybe, we had another chance. "Answer it." Two words, and that hope was crushed.

After saying his piece, Shawn turned and walked away. I watched him longingly, before finally picking up the annoying phone.

To be quite honest, I don't know what came over me.

I hadn't seen Shawn Michaels in twenty years. Two freaking decades and not a sound or a letter. Nothing. I spent most of that time trying to convince myself that he wasn't dead. As for the remainder of that time, I spent it all on the possibility that he had died. Or at very least, he had left the country. During that time of being by myself, I found a new way of life.

Heterosexuality. It was hard at first. But then it just got harder. Soon, I told Stephanie. And she told me. And we agreed to keep it all under wraps. In the public eye, I am her husband. She is my wife. In private, she and I don't even live in the same state. We keep contact by phone, and it's always business related. It wasn't like we hated each other. It was just that we never really had much to talk about.

Until now of course. When Shawn Michaels comes back in my life, only now can I speak to "my wife" face to face.

"So he came back?" She asked from across the table. We decided to meet in a downtown bar and grill. Apparently Stephanie loved these kinds of places. To her they had character. Rustic yet appealing. I could easily say the same about Shawn. Fifty years could have gone by and I'm positive – after what I've witnessed for three weeks – that he would still be the same alluring "sexy-boy" I always knew and loved. "Wow. I'm surprised."

"Me too." I touched my glass for the first time in hours. "But he doesn't remember me."

"What?" She stops her bottle halfway to her mouth, and places it down in shock. "Wait…what? What do you mean he doesn't remember you? L-Like he doesn't want to remember or…"

I took her dangling as bait. "He's completely forgotten about me. He didn't even recognize me when we first met up. He didn't know my name. He knows nothing about me." I stare at the liquid trapped in my glass. "It's like he has amnesia." I hadn't drunk much, so why was I crying? I never cried. Not even when Shawn left. "I've tried everything. I even hired him at the Academy, hoping that place would bring back some memories. But he looks at it like he looks at me. Like our past isn't even there. Like we're strangers."

"Oh God." She spoke, understanding. Stephanie could always understand. "I'm sorry to hear that Hunt." She placed a kind hand on my now bowed head. "I know how much you love him."

"I just wish I could forget." The tears kept coming. My hand – alien to me now – was gripping the glass hard. "Why can't I forget?"

Stephanie stays silent, before leaning in closer. "Because you still love him."

Women are always right. I knew it solely because those words felt true. And it hurt knowing that.

Twenty years, and I'm still in love with Shawn Michaels.

Academy is publicly known as a boarding school. There are three sections to the boarding system here. The first section – lower level – is where all the students reside. On the opposite side is the upper level. The place for the administrative staff. I resided in the penthouse suite. Fully-loaded, and completely self-sufficient. It came with space for two. Yet the man I had asked to reside there with me, politely declined – stating that I had done too much for him – and chose to shack it up with roommate (and History teacher) Mark Calaway in the area known solely as the loft. The building was more apartment-like than it was upscale condo and modernized bachelor pads. Shawn took it upon himself to stay in that lonely complex and in nothing short of a heartbeat, he invited a reluctant Mark Calaway to share the space with him.

Shawn living under the same roof as another man irked me. However, that was just the tip of the iceberg when it came to what really angered me. And what really angered me was the fact that Shawn had gone out of his way to reject my offer, instead choosing to live under the same one bedroom roof as Mark Calaway. All the while, disowning having any knowledge of me. Or what used to be us.

In the beginning, Shawn and Calaway hardly even spoke to each other, yet out of literally nowhere they became a staple duo – rumored by many to be closer than simple acquaintances.

I am not one to follow rumors – if I did, I could never even wish to be Headmaster of this great school – however this was Shawn Michaels. The man who could easily forget where a front door was despite having just walked through it, just as easily as he could forget a twenty year absence having departed from a three year homosexual relationship. Not to put a damper on any other form of relationships – to each his own after all – however, it's kind of hard to simply forget about the man who you slept with nearly every night for three straight years, when you yourself are a man.

Things like that tend to stick. Yet, Shawn had forgotten it all. And it made me partially think that his closeness to Mark was due to his carefree attitude (that so resembled the kind of person he was when we first met on these school grounds) and free spirit. Key word. Partially.

I don't believe in fate. Yet it must have been fate that drew me here. I don't believe in rumors. Yet those dark whispers were what put me in this spot.

As I stood staring at his now turned back, I found myself momentarily thinking many things. First off, I could see the distance between us. It had grown exponentially since the night we broke up. Secondly, I caught myself red-handed trying to convince my conscious mind that being here was simply a waste of time. Shawn has forgotten you. Move on. Lastly, I saw myself kicking the aforementioned to the curb. None of that mattered. What mattered was that a month of playing his games had run my nerves thin. I was tired of his absence, and subsequently disgruntled by his very presence.

"So it's true then?" I hated this jealous part of me. I didn't believe those rumors. I didn't. Or more so, I couldn't. Because I'm the Headmaster. In the end, I realized that I did believe the rumors. "You and the Undertaker?" I scoffed to his silence. "Guess I should be happy for you huh?"

He said nothing. He did nothing. It left me feeling like I had no choice. Or rather, it left me feeling like I didn't even have the luxury of having no choice. I was decided. We were decided.

"Why don't you just stop this fucking game already Shawn?" I shouted while walking over to him. My legs felt heavy, so I stopped halfway to ease the strain. "You disappear without so much as a fucking goodbye, and then twenty fucking years later you conveniently return and just insert yourself into my fucking life, with a convenient condition of amnesia! Bullshit!" I barked at his facing back. "You remember Shawn! You remember everything! Just fucking admit it already!"

"I don't." He replied lowly.

The coldness of his voice further infuriates me. Regardless, I stand my ground – unable to muster the strength necessary to simply turn him around and hit him in the face I loved. "Fuck that Shawn! I know you remember! We weren't something you could just fucking forget!"

He remains silent. I can clearly see the destination of this conversation. It's going nowhere. With that in mind, I manage to calm my nerves. Too many things came crashing down at once – and at the top of it all sat a revelation. The revelation that I was a fool for believing that four measly weeks could make up for twenty absent years.

With a deep inhale, I speak as cautiously as I can. "Why Shawn?" My eyes go to the space to my left. I don't even have the strength to look at him anymore. Why what? What was I even going to ask? Why did you come back? No. I did not want to know why he came back. I was just so happy that he was back. So what? What should I put in front of my why? "Why did you leave?"

There. Outside of everything else, this was what I truly wanted to know. Why did Shawn tell me it was over? Why did he leave?

A silent moment squeezes by before Shawn replies with something. "I don't know what you're talking about Hunter," He lifts his chin carrying his head upwards. He has yet to face me. "But if I did, then it was probably because I wanted you to have a normal life."

It's recognition, without admittance. Like a killer pleading guilty to only one murder, but not the remaining seven. And it pushes me back into that void, where all I have to grab hold of are taunting straws.

"Normal?" A stroke of new found anger hits me with the grace of a skilled calligrapher, and the force of a hurricane. "If normal is worrying about you each and every day! If normal is wondering if you're alive or safe for twenty straight years! If normal is wishing – just fucking hoping – that I could even get a glimpse of you in a store front as I passed through a city! If normal is just being fucking content with passing by you in a crowd…if that's all normal, then fuck normal!" I glared at his back. The sight of it still facing me angered me even more to the point of pain. "And fuck you for making me live that way!"

In one unaltered motion – and without a series of calculated thinking strummed behind it – I closed the distance between us and wrapped my hands around him in a way that threatened to pull his body completely into mine. He felt fragile. Breakable. Small. Warm. In all, he felt good. This felt good.

"Damn it!" I shouted through clenched teeth. "Damn it!" I repeated louder into his shoulder. "Why can't I hate you?"

Another wave of hapless silence dances amongst us – testing and teasing at the same time – and soon passes by altogether. No one has said anything. Not me. Not Shawn. Instead we stand in that position for a while. I hold him tighter and close my eyes to burn the scenario into my mind. Twenty years had gone by, after all, since I last touched Shawn Michaels. This was a memory I never wanted to fade.

In all this, due solely to my euphoric state, I had missed a crucial fact. Shawn had yet to touch me.

"You should leave Hunter." He speaks with a voice that shatters me to the very core. "There's nothing for you here."

My breathing short-circuited. I found myself straining to look at him as best I could, however his eyes were glazed with an unreachable distance that made it impossible for me to read him. What was he thinking? Was he serious? Just like twenty years ago, I didn't have an answer. All I knew was his instruction, and that it was an unwavering one. There really was nothing here.

Fate. No fate. Either way, twenty years is still too long a time.

I wordlessly let him slip out of my grasp by gradually loosening it the more the realism of this nightmare sunk in. As soon as he was completely let go of, I turned away, and with heavy feet, headed for the door. It was truly over now. Unlike all those years ago, there would be no catharsis. No questions left unanswered. No stone left unturned. This time was really the end. At long last I could move on with my life. And he could go on living his.

We were over.

I closed the door quietly without looking back.