Dean had left me again. Usually, these absences lasted a week maybe two. His current self imposed exile was going on three weeks. I miss him and I'm miserable. The thing is, though, I know he's even more miserable. This self punishment Dean puts himself through happened every six to nine months. Sometimes he would pick a fight with me and storm out of our apartment slamming the door behind him. Other times he would simply pack his bags in the middle of the night and slip quietly out the door. Either path he takes the result is the same.
I prefer the battle over the peaceful retreat. When he would leave without out any fanfare I would fall asleep beside him thinking all was fine not knowing the thoughts, the doubts that had crept back into his mind. I feel terrible knowing I slept while he was suffering. I wish he'd talk to me about it. Let me help him before the bad thoughts got too bad. Maybe if he would talk about things this cycle Dean's created would end. On those mornings I would wake up alone, sending a small ripple of panic inside me, but I would try to calm myself, knowing that he could just be up making breakfast or out at the gym. I'd listen for the tv, for any voices, for the sound of footsteps, for the sound of the refrigerator opening, for the sound of a fork hitting a plate, for any noise to let me know he was still here, that he was still with me. Not hearing any of those things I'd force myself to get up praying that there was no note on the table. God let there be no note. No note meant he was just at the gym and would be home soon. He never left a note when he just went out. A note for him was only used for goodbyes and apologies. Seeing the folded piece of stationary on the table my heart would sink. Tears running down my face before I even opened the paper. The note always reads the same - I'm sorry Seth. I can't do this anymore. I'm no good for you. I can't be who you want me to be. - Dean. The tears turn to anger then. Can't be who I want him to be?! He always tries to turn this on to me. I want him as he is. His charm, his intelligence, his goofball sense of humor, his extremes, his insecurities, the drinking, the smoking, the flashes of temper he tries to hide. I want all that. Always have. It's those people from his past. Those people that are suppose to pass as his family and his friends. Those people that instead of supporting him, looking out for him - held him down, filled him with self doubt, neglected him, used him. He remembers their words; the way they made him feel. Dean projects this on to me as if I'm the one who called him a fuck up over and over again. As if I'm the one who told him he was worthless and would never amount to anything. As if I'm the one who told him nobody cares about him and never will. I get punished for their sins. It's not fair. I'm not a violent person, but if I ever met these people, running them over with my car would be a serious option for all the pain they put Dean through and continue to put him through with their self centered asinine behavior not to mention the pain they consequently put me through.
At least, with the fight, as started this current break-up, I could start to mentally prepare myself before Dean left. Like all the fights this one started out of nowhere. I was making us sandwiches in the kitchen when he yelled at me - "I don't need this shit." I answered "What?" hoping this wasn't going to get worse, but Dean just continued on saying - he didn't need me, he didn't need anybody, he could take care of himself, that one day he'd disappoint me so why bother trying, that no one really cares. I use to try to think what I did to bring these fights on, but I've learned that I'm not the one he's truly mad at. He's scared and mad at the people from his past who have disappointed him. He copes with it by drinking and when that isn't working he lashes out at me. I look upon it now as a test. He's testing me to see if I'll give up on him like the others. I won't. I've told him such, but he's too damaged to hear it. Roman likes to console me by reminding me of that old adage, we hurt the ones we love the most. I do my best to remember that during these times.
I do try to get a few words in during his ranting before he leaves, to give him something to think about while he drinks his whiskey and fucks every woman in sight. Even if those words are only "I love you, don't leave" whispered softly before he walks out the door. It's still something to comfort myself with, knowing that I tried to stop him, hoping that somehow my words got through his clouded mind. It sounds pathetic. I know. Right now I should be furious with Dean for leaving me again over his own insecurities. I should be furious with Dean for not being smart enough to recognize the pattern he's created. He is better than this dammit no matter what those haunting voices from the past tell him. Why can't he see it? How can I make him see it?
Dean always eventually comes back to me. Sometimes I'll just be sitting in our apartment and he'll walk in. Other times we'll be on the road. I'll be sleeping in the hotel bed and wake up with Dean's arms wrapped around me. Or Roman and I will be sitting at a table eating and Dean will sit down next to me giving my thigh a light sqeeze and start talking like nothing happened. I just haven't been able to figure out what it is that makes him come back. Is it something I say? Does he just miss me and decides enough is enough? Is it something Roman or another friend says to him? Does the current whore he's staying with kicks him out? I wish I knew what made the difference to him. What made those voices in his head switch off. Things would be so much easier if I knew how to stop them.
I'm thankful for the time being Dean is unable to completely avoid me. We still have to team together at work. That choice isn't up to him. Short of quitting Dean has to stand beside me during our promos, he has to fight along side me every night, most nights he even has to travel with me as management strongly encourages us to stay united even outside of the ring. Still, he stays away from me as much as possible. I'm worried one of these times Dean's self loathing will get so bad he will quit. I try not to think about that scenario. I don't know what I'd do. Go after him I guess, but I've tried that before with horrible results. The more one pushed him the more Dean rebelled. I tried once to drag him home. I went over to the house of the current chic he was banging where they both were drunk. I tried to plead with him to come back. I told him it was just his demons from his past that drove him away not me. Somehow that escalated into a shouting match. He told me I'd never understand him. I told him he was proving everyone from his childhood right. Next thing I knew he punched me in the jaw. I fell backwards and he was on top of me, waling on me. Thankfully he was too drunk to hit properly and I was able to fend off most the blows. With the help of the screeching slut distracting him I was able to push him off me. I walked out and didn't look back. I couldn't stop myself from crying when I got to the car. One, because he could hit harder than me and that first punch hurt like hell. Second, because we had never got in a physical fight before outside of the ring. Third, because I knew I deserved it for what I said to him. I prayed that he was too drunk to remember what I said. I didn't mean it of course, but he just frustrated me so much I lost my patience. I promised myself from then on that would never happen again.
Being with him so much during our breaks is both a blessing and a curse. It means I'll never be able to move on from him to let my heart heal, but it also means I can keep an eye on him to try to limit the damage he does to himself. It means I have to watch him punish himself because those voices from the past that are still in his head tell him that he doesn't deserve the successful life he's made for himself.
He's always been a drinker, but when were apart, when he's deep into the hell his mind has created, the drinking is ten times worse. His whole body smells of whiskey whether it be at eight in the morning or four in the afternoon. He sneaks it in his coffee at breakfast and in his energy drink before a match. Dean thinks he's fooling me and Roman, but we know. Thankfully, we've been able to cover for him and our bosses haven't caught on. Roman thinks they know about Dean's drinking, but just don't care. He says Dean is too over right now to pull him off the road. So as long as Dean stays hot with the crowd and can perform at the high level he is management will just look the other way. I like to believe that people aren't that heartless. Not even the McMahons.
Dean's insomnia is also worse. I can tell because he has this half asleep look about him. His eyes are like slits with dark circles appearing underneath. His hair is often a mess and he neglects to shave. I have to admit I would find that look sexy if I didn't know the pain he was in. If I didn't know it was the look of a man given up.
Dean's other vice also gets worse – women, the wrong kind of women. Dean and I have always had an open relationship while I've never known him to pick up another guy. Dean picking up an occasional woman here and there was no big deal. I did the same just less often. In fact part of me thinks that's what I should be doing now instead of sitting here waiting for him. I can get my fair share of chics and guys. That would show him! But I won't. I never pick up anyone else when were apart. I don't want to give him any reason not to trust me. I don't want to give him any excuse not to come back to me. I don't want to give him any cause to think those voices from his past are right. I know in the three weeks Dean's been gone he's been shacking up with a local lower class stripper who dabbles in prostitution on the side. Of course this doesn't stop him from picking up every ring rat he meets along the way during our most recent five day tour. The women themselves aren't my main concern. I'm more worried one of them will bring with them Dean's worse habit. One he hasn't done in over two years - coke. The thought of Dean snorting coke and getting high makes me ill. The thought of him doing that with some slut who is using him, who doesn't give a shit about him makes me feel like I might have a panic attack. I have to remind myself that part is all just in my head atleast for now. Roman and I haven't seen any signs of Dean's drug use. Drugs aren't my thing, but I like to think I've been around it enough to recognize the signs. Then again when it comes to Dean I can be blind. I guess we'll only know for sure when the results of the drug tests we are forced to take for work, come back. I've been tempted to ask him in the past when he has come back to me if he's used again, but I always chicken out. I'm not sure if I really want to know. I'm not sure what I could do about it. If I did ask I know he'd give me an honest answer. In spite of everything else he's always been truthful with me and in turn expects the same from me. No need to worry about that now. He hasn't talked to me about anything other than work in three weeks. He talks a little more to Roman, but not by much.
Basically, everything gets worse when were apart and not just for Dean. I find myself constantly snapping at Roman. I can't sleep. I struggle to remember my lines during our promos. I'm a mess. I try my best to hold it together for Dean's sake and for Roman's too. I've told Roman everything. He's been very supportive and I'm glad Dean and I have him for a friend. I feel guilty though as I feel we drag Roman down with us into our problems.
We have a match tonight, the three of us against Brodus Clay, Tensai, and Kofi in a match being taped for Main Event. I've been pacing backstage trying to think of how to get Dean back to me. If he really wanted to move on from me I'd accept it. I'd have too. Of course then he would be happy if that's what he truly wanted. And looking at him he's anything, but happy. Watching him these last few days has been especially heartbreaking. He's never left me for this long before. I can't take this anymore. I need him. I need him to hold me. I need him to fuck me. I need to know where he is at night. I need to know he's okay and if he's not I need to be the one to make everything alright. And that's what I'm going to do tonight, somehow. I go outside to clear my head. The cool spring weather feels good, but does little to get my thoughts off Dean. Then a plan comes to me. Roman comes out telling me were up. I tell him whatever he does - not to save me tonight. Either Dean saves me or I'm pretty sure I'm spending the night in the hospital. Roman sighs and shakes his head in exasperation, but agrees.
I try to be in the ring a lot and rarely tag out so when I take the beating, hopefully, Dean won't suspect anything. Everything is going as planned as Tensai and Clay are beating the shit out of me. I don't look at Dean. I don't want to give anything away. Actually, this beating is starting to go too well. All the air is completely knocked out of me when Tensai lays me in the corner and climbs to the second rope. I'm rather disoriented and to tell you the truth I forgot exactly what my great plan was when I feel someone tugging on my boot and I'm on the floor only briefly before Dean pulls me to my feet and wraps an arm securely around my waist. I hear him whisper "Dammit Seth" in my ear. I haven't heard him say my name with that much emotion in weeks. Even through the haze I'm in from the beating I took, those words and his arm around me makes me ridiculously happy. I've missed his touch. Then for a split second I worry I've angered him, pushed him away even further. He's too smart not to know I did that on purpose, more or less. But his grip on me doesn't stop. He continues to hold me close to him, supporting me long past the time he and I both know is necessary. I feel his body relax against me right before he hands me off to Roman and I know in that instant I have him back with me. Dean distracts Tensai allowing me to sneak back in the ring. Dean, always my protector. I hear him shouting encouragement at me from across the ring. I glance at him - his face has softened. I can tell he's still worried for my safety, but the stress of the last three weeks is gone. He tags in, but the ref won't allow it because Dean's feet are on the rope. Fucking ref. It makes me smile, though, knowing how badly Dean wants to get to me. My little ploy has thrown him off his game. The rest of the match goes smoothly. We win again. No surprises there. When we get to the dressing room after the match Dean pulls me in for an embrace. I'm rewarded with a quick kiss and he tousles my hair. This is his apology to me. I don't need words and excuses and he knows that. Everything is as it should be now. I don't ask what he's been doing during our separation and he doesn't offer up any information. That's fine with me. I don't need the details all I need is him.