He walked quickly to his room, looking above his shoulder for any one who could have listened and hastily closed the door behind him.
There he stopped. He took one deep breath and shakily walked to his bed. He sat down exhaling loudly and let his body fall backwards on the soft mattress.
'What is happening to us? To me?' He rubbed his face with is hands, wiping off the sweat from his forehead. There were so many questions filling up his head, so many feelings invading his heart, but they all came down to one thing.
Since the events in the UK, he felt that a special bond was created between him and Rey. A strong bond beyond words, something he couldn't yet describe but he seemed to feel it running through his body every time he saw Rey. He didn't want to admit it, and he didn't admit it to himself but after today, things were beginning to make sense.
But what was the reason? Why now? What was so special about this day that urged him to make such a move? He knew Rey was involved and deeply in love with Adam… He knew it very well indeed. He had seen them together, and although when they were in public the couple was never openly expressive and affectionate, sometimes the looks they gave each other were enough to make him understand; understand that this relationship was something more than just screwing each other and kissing; something more than just lust and passion. The relationship forged between Mexican and Canadian was more about respect, love and most of all it was about them finding in each other their soul mate.
And Dave could not deny it any more. He was so jealous of it. And he wanted this for himself. But he never let his envy get the better of him… ever. As long as they were happy together, he was content in just looking. He didn't care having put his life on hold; he was willing to wait until the opportune moment. Until this bond between Rey and Adam ceased to exist, he would wait; even if it took him a lifetime. This thought stopped him.
A lifetime?
Was he really so in love with Rey? Or was the jealousy really the main reason for this? Had he tried to kiss him today because he was jealous or because he loved him? Was it because he was feeling lonely? If it hadn't been for London, would he still feel the same? Could he really wait a lifetime? What if Adam and Rey stayed together for the rest of their lives? Could Dave wait? Alone?
He waved his head. The thought of being alone was scaring him more than he imagined it would. He didn't want to be alone but more than that, he wanted to be with Rey; tell him what he felt.
'What do you feel?'He had spent many nights, after the incident in the UK thinking, contemplating, cudgeling his brains and loosing sleep over this question. He had decided to give himself time. If this was indeed only about jealousy and lust, then time would have proven him right by making him forget him, move on and find someone else to love.
But that was months ago, and with every night coming, he sweated, lost sleep and dreamed …
'Oh yes… those dreams…'He didn't know if he should classify them as good dreams or plain nightmares. And they were frequent, but seldom the same. He dreamt about kissing Rey; kissing him passionately, innocently, secretly, guiltily, lustfully, slowly, teasingly, sleepily, angrily… sometimes he dreamt of touching him and some times his dreams went a little beyond just making out.
Those were the problem. He dreamt about caresses, soft and slow necking in the dark or under the moonlight, tracing his tongue on his soft skin, starting from his lips down to his neck, feeling him tremble under his hot breath, his hands pinching his nipples making him hiss, then sliding down ever so slowly to his abdomen and taking his cock, stroking it fast or slow and licking it from top to bottom all the way to his balls, tasting every inch of it until the end, savoring his cum as it filled his mouth. Other nights, he dreamt about actually making love to him. Sometimes slowly, sometimes violently, sometimes, passionately but it was always the same feeling; a sense of fulfillment and happiness as he dreamt entering his body, as he slid in Rey's tight body, numbness and tension invading him at the same time. And those eyes… In his dreams he never lost sight of them; he didn't want to miss anything. As if upon closing his eyes or even blinking, it would all be over… and every night it ended the same way. Dave would eventually close his eyes, loosing himself in this love making, and in the blink of an eye Rey was gone, leaving him alone on an empty bed covered in sweat and sometimes faint traces of blood. Those times, Dave would wake up frustrated, horny as hell and finish the job by jerking off angrily in the middle of messy sweaty bed sheets. When the orgasm hit him it was violent, making his every muscle twitch and tremble, making him scream in pleasure and blurring his vision but the warmth that spread through his body would be lost quickly always leaving him with a feeling of loneliness and misery.
He hated that last feeling. And he hated himself for wanting Rey when he couldn't have him.
So what had made him try and kiss Rey today? His line of thought went in circles. Beginning and ending with the same unanswered question. Maybe there was a point he was missing.
One thing though, that kept nagging him, was the fact that Rey didn't react to the kissing immediately. Was he enjoying it or was he caught in surprise and just delayed to act? He hadn't been mistaken when he had heard Rey moaning in pleasure. And he was sure that the luchador hadn't rejected his caresses.
Whatever the answer, Dave knew one thing. The look on Rey's face when he had pushed him away would give him more dreams. Bad ones.
But when their lips had touched, Rey did look like he was enjoying it. He looked like whatever his cause of his distress was, it was gone.
'Wasn't he?'
He stood up and walked to the window. He leaned his forehead against the glass and took one big breath. He held it as long as he could and when he let it go it steamed the glass.
Rey's words were spinning in his head.
Don't mess up with my headDon't mess up with my head
Don't mess up with my…
Don't mess up ….
Don't…
He wanted to drive his head through that damned window and make his feelings go away… make them disappear. But the mere thought of Rey, of his smile, his eyes, his body, the way he moved… the thought of Rey's beautiful mind and precious glass heartsent shivers down his spine and made his body tremble from excitement.
But today he had taken it a bit too far and Rey obviously couldn't handle it. It was still too soon to lay it upon him. He was still too fragile. He had wanted to cry when he had seen him break down and fall on the floor. How he hated himself right now because of the pain he had caused the man he loved…
'Loved?'That last one shook him to the ground.
He had finally identified his primary feeling. He had finally recognized to core of torment.
And although he wanted to embrace it and be happy about it, he found hating himself.
Desperately he fell on back on the bed and tried to sleep.
When sleep came, it was filled with disturbing images and haunting voices.
Thankfully he couldn't remember any of it when he woke up.
TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT
Bobby Lashley was late. Not that he had any reason to hurry back to the hotel, but the watch on his wrist reminded him that being a WWE wrestler was a demanding job, one that required rest and many hours of training. And it was well past midnight.
The weather was angry. The wind blew fiercely outside and a storm was approaching. Logic told him he would be better inside, sleeping, resting. Maybe tomorrow the weather would allow them to travel to the next city and their next show.
He paid the cab driver his fare and exited. The wind blew some dust in his eyes blinding him momentarily. He entered the lobby in a hurry never expecting to find anyone at this time. His rubbed his eyes, causing tears to wash away the dust. Then he saw Teddy Long from a distance.
Theodore R. Long was the Smackdown manager, and a good one at that. He was strict, fair, funny and imaginative. Everyone loved him and it was hard to hold a grudge against him, especially when he was smiling or winking his eye mischievously or doing his 'happy dance'.
Bobby envied and admired the manager.
But not tonight. Something had put him in an uproar because he was still awake, talking over the phone, gesturing wildly and
'Crying?'
'Is he crying?'
Bobby shook his head and rubbed the last traces of dust and tears away from his eyes. He came close to Teddy who spotted him immediately but didn't finish his call.
"What am I supposed to tell him?"
"…"
"When did this happen?"
"…"
"God damn… God damn it…" Teddy's voice broke and he sat in one of leather armchairs. He buried his face in his hand and rubbed it. Bobby had never seen him so distressed before. He took a seat in the armchair next to him and waited. Teddy didn't say much after that. He just held his phone and nodded.
Then the phone call ended. Bobby had never seen Long so tired and so sad before.
"Teddy what's going on?"
Teddy's face had become whiter than Ken Kennedy's. His hand was covering his mouth as if trying to prevent any words from coming out… as if trying to protect a secret.
"What's going on?" he insisted.
Teddy eyed the big black man and cleared his throat but that didn't stop his voice from cracking when he spoke.
"Adam Copeland is dead"
Four words...
Four words and Bobby lost the earth from under his feet. He wanted to ask the 'how' and the 'when'; he wanted to ask if this was a bad joke…
"It happened today. He… he was murdered…"
Breath escaped Lashley's lips like a wild punch in the stomach.
"Murdered?" his voice came out barely audible.
Teddy's eyes became sadder. If this was the effect the news had on Bobby, who didn't know Adam personally, then how would the others react?
And how would Rey Rey react?
"Murdered… someone broke into his hotel room and slit his throat. Medical examination showed traces of post mortem sexual abuse."
Bobby leaned back and tried to catch his breath.
"What? He…" Lashley was still unable to speak.
"He was killed and then raped. Whoever killed him, raped a dead body…"
"… I can't believe it… this can't be true…"
"No one heard a thing. Shawn Michaels found him naked and called the police. That's all I know… please Bobby don't tell anyone… not yet…"
"But Teddy they are going to know. The chances are some guys already know… if Shawn knows, then Hunter probably knows too; and if he knows then who knows who else does… Does… does Rey know?"
"No one has told him yet as far as I know. Nobody dares…"
"But we have to tell him… he has to know…" Bobby looked desperate. "If I was him, I'd want to know…"
"We will tell Rey Rey, but all I'm sayin' is spare him the details. He doesn't have to know every gruesome detail. It will break him…"
Bobby saw the reason in the manager's words.
"I'll tell him" he volunteered. Teddy looked in surprise.
"Are you sure?"
"No" he whispered. "But he has to be told by someone. Might as well be me…"
Bobby stood from the armchair and headed to the elevators. Teddy stopped him.
"Hey… when you tell him, please stick around… make sure he is alright… make sure he doesn't try anything stupid…"
"Do you think he will try and kill himself?"
"That's what I'm afraid of… I'll be here in case you need me…"
Bobby nodded and entered the elevator, heading to his room. He had to take a few moments and gather his thoughts before going to Rey's room.
The corridors were silent and eerily empty.
Before Bobby closed the door to this room, he stood a while and listened to the emptiness and the calmness.
The big breath before the plunge.
A light bulb flickered in the far end of the corridor and silently went out. When he closed his door, Bobby stood immobile in the darkness.
When he was a young boy, about fifteen, his grandfather had given him a book of poems as a present for his birthday. It was an old book, one that according to his grandfather, his own grandfather had given him when he was fifteen. The book itself was well preserved and the pages were yellow but clean. Bobby remembered most of the poems, but one he remembered above all. It was one that his grandfather cherished most; one that reminded him of his wife, Bobby's dead grandmother. It was a poem of Robert Frost.
Bobby tried to remember how the verses went. He had read the poem to his grandfather's funeral a couple of years later and now he was angry at himself for not remembering it. For a moment panic surfaced. He was panicking for having forgotten it.
His eyes searched frantically around as if searching for a clue in the dark room, something that might remind him…
Then he saw the closed window… and he sighed in a guilty relief.
He remembered. He closed his eyes and recited the verses…
In silence…
In pain…
In courage…
In strength…
In hope….
He took a deep breath and reopened the door. The first step he took, the first step to Rey's room was the hardest he had taken in a long while.
TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT
Now close the windows and hush all the fields;
If trees must, let them silently toss;
No bird is singing now, and if there is,
Be it my loss.
It will be long ere the marshes resume,
It will be long ere the earliest bird.
So close the windows and not hear the wind,
But see all wind-stirred.
ROBERT FROST-NOW CLOSE THE WINDOW
