My back is slammed against the cold, dirty tiles, a tongue unceremoniously shoved into my open mouth, hands grabbing at my shirt, the hardness of a body pressed against mine, the heat radiating between the two of us. This is how it always is, in some filthy toilet, in some dingy bar, in some small town, we always seem to find each other.
Life sucks on the indie circuit, wrestling for twenty people in a school gym, getting paid nothing, or if you're lucky next to nothing, you learn to rely on your friends, hope one of them scores a place to sleep, otherwise you're all squeezing into someone's car for the night. That's why we so easily fell into each other, he gets it, we both live the same life, oddly though never actually meeting in the ring, we're both the best, the new up and comers, and there'd be at least a handful of people out there who'd love to see us wrestle, but so far it's never happened.
Jon Moxley, he's a weird guy, people who don't know him talk about him either in hushed whispers or excited shouts, talk about his in ring ability, his eccentric mannerisms, his intoxicating charisma. But they don't know him, they don't know that under all that he's just a normal guy, trying to make his way, meeting up in public toilets for clandestine meetings.
Tyler Black, that's what people know me as, they applaud my athleticism, my no fear approach to wrestling, my high flying ability. No one talks about the young kid from Iowa, who has nothing if this doesn't work out, except for him, he knows, he's the same, when he presses his lips against mine and looks into my eyes we share a moment where we can both admit we're terrified of failing.
So here we are again, a town so small I don't know if it even has a name, or at least I don't remember it, somehow this tiny town managed to have two different wrestling shows on the same night, the town's tiny population split between the two. Here we are again in the only bar in town, barely big enough to fit all the wrestlers who have come to drink away the aches and pains, besides being drunk makes sleeping in a car, or on the floor easier. Here we are again in the tiny bathroom, squashed into the cubicle, hands grabbing and pulling at each others clothes.
The sex is quick and messy, no talking, no feelings, just a release for both of us, for some reason drawn together, one and the same, but entirely different. We will meet in another town, another bar, another bathroom, and the result will be the same, sex, full of aggression and anger, and then nothing, we will walk away, and no one will know, no one will suspect that Jon Moxley and Tyler Black have ever met before.
The first time this ever happened, was in another nameless town, we had locked eyes across the bar, both known and understood the overwhelming attraction. I wasn't gay, not by a long shot, I had a girl I was fucking regularly, I didn't think he was gay either, but there was something pushing us together. I had cocked my head towards the toilet, he had nodded in response, mere minutes later we were pressed against each other, fingers pulling through hair, mouths angrily fighting for dominance.
Afterwards he had asked me what this meant, was I looking to be his boyfriend, I had laughed, I wasn't looking for anything, I just needed him in that moment, I was reminded of a song lyric "I will soon forget the colour of your eyes, and you'll forget mine." How true that was, I couldn't give you any details about Jon Moxley, I could tell you about the aggressive pull I feel when he is in the same room as me, the bright blinding light that flashes before my eyes when he grabs me, the raw energy that is released when we fuck, but I don't know anything about the man, and I'm sure he'd say the same.
We both understand what we're doing, both know what we need, because we are the same, and not all at once, we complete each other when we are together in those bathrooms, and then when we part we are still whole, we don't take anything of the other with us. Maybe one day we will meet for real, wrestle each other, even become friends, but right now our arrangement works, we fuck when we're in the same place, but we have no idea when or where that will be, we can go for months without ever crossing paths, then we might see each other every week. Only the universe knows when we'll be thrust together, it's always a surprise, what town, what bar, what bathroom, so for right now we have to settle for just being two straight dudes in the mystery toilet.
A/N: Lyrics are from Pierce the Veil - I'm Low on Gas and You Need a Jacket