It happened.
Honestly, I feel sick to my stomach for ever wishing it to happen, but it happened and there was nothing I could do to change that.
Just two weeks after he returned at the Elimination Chamber, I return to my hotel after a night out with the boys and find Christian sleeping - curled awkwardly and all - in front of my room door. I don't even have to be in close range to see the hurt that's etched onto his face. Part of me in the moment wanted to just step right over him, enter the room, close the door and leave it be. I told you so (in essence) Christian. The end. However, that part was instantly swallowed the moment this fled, weakly ,from Christian's lips:
"R...Randy"
It took me a few seconds to realize that he had called my name and it took me longer to conclude that he had called my name in his sleep. Stepping over him and moving on was no longer an option. It was no longer even a candidate to become an option. Right then, all I wanted to do was hold him like I always dreamed I would. Five years ago, I was too confused and concerned to make the correct decision.
Five years later, and I scoop Christian's sleeping body into my arms and carry him into my room. After laying him out onto the bed, Christian instantly recoils into his former semi-fetal position. The suddenness of the movement injures him and it shows pointedly on his face as his brows knit and his teeth clench tightly against each other. When the pain subsides, tears begin to trickle from his eyes, run along the lines in his face in a jagged downward motion, and end by staining both the pillow and his face.
Despite having no proof whatsoever, right then I wanted to kill Edge. I wanted to locate him in this building - in this city - and tear him limb from limb. I wanted to do it...but just like all those years ago, had I gone after Edge, then Christian would be here locked in his pain and forced to suffer in it all alone. Leaving Christian on this bed in favor of beating Edge down was not an option. I had to stay here and watch over the Sleeping Beauty.
I didn't realize it at the time, but I had somehow fallen asleep. And the only thing that led to waking me up was the lingering feel of someone's hand gently running slender fingers through my hair. To my disappointment, the hand wasn't there when my eyes opened. The only proof of Christian's existence in my room that night was his body indent that still stuck to the sheets of the bed. I rested my hand on it, and then launched my cheek onto it.
There aren't enough words in the dictionary to describe how warm it was.
