John insisted on cooking for me later that night. No one had ever done that for me before, obviously, but it made everything seem comfortably domestic. John and I were still sitting at the counter with our empty plates beside us when his cell phone started ringing. John took his phone out and looked at the screen.

"I'm so sorry, it's work. I have to take this."

I just nodded as John walked into the other room to take the call. I sat there for a few minutes; waiting for John to come back but it looked like that the phone call was turning out to be a long one. I grabbed a pen that was lying on the counter and spread out my napkin, sketching random things while I waited for John to return. I wasn't about to go roaming around John's house on my own. I was on my third napkin when John came back.

"Sorry, that took longer…hey, those are really good," John said, picking up one of the napkins before I could snatch it away.

"Not really."

"No, they are."

"I guess since I'm pretending to be in art school I should have something to show for it."

"Art school?"

"It's what I told my family and friends when I moved to New York. I actually was taking some classes in Chicago before I had to leave."

"Had to?"

"One of my sister's exes turned out to be one of my appointments. When I no-showed he got pissed and told my sister everything. It was either quit or leave Chicago. I chose to leave."

"Maybe you should really go to art school."

"I'm considering it. I'm putting together a portfolio and filling out the application for admission to The School of Visual Arts. I was only a part-time student in Chicago and only audited classes that interested me. At SVA I would be a full-time student working towards a BFA. I would have to take the required courses in things like science and math and hope like hell that I've gained some level of maturity since high school and won't screw it all up because it doesn't hold my attention. Some of the professors are famous comic book authors that I would kill to meet, not even taking into account that I would be learning directly from them. I'm hoping they accept me as a transfer student because otherwise I would have to take the SAT's and I would be screwed. Hopefully my portfolio and recommendations from my professors in Chicago will be enough."

"So you're planning on staying in New York long term?" John asked me with a frown.

"Of course, where else would I go?" I said, confused at John's reaction.

"Would you mind if we watched a little wrestling?"

"Whatever you want, I'm all yours."

"Yes you are. I like to re-watch my matches to see if there's anything I could do better. It'll only be about twenty minutes."

John and I went into the living room and I sat down on the couch, John laying the length of the couch, his head pillowed on my thigh. He queued the DVR up and we watched as John took on Chris Jericho. There were so many things that I wanted to say as John explained what we were watching as if I knew nothing about professional wrestling.

"That looks like it hurts," I said lamely as I watched John struggle to the ropes after being trapped in the Walls of Jericho.

"Wanna see?"

"Uh…"

"Come on, it'll be fun."

"Being twisted up like a pretzel doesn't look like fun."

John stood up and pulled me up and led me over to a bare patch of carpet.

"Lay down on your stomach."

"John, I really don't think…"

I looked over my shoulder and John already had his back to me, grabbing my shins. I braced myself for the screaming pain when he torqued my knee but it didn't come. I could feel the pull in my thighs and the pressure on my lower back but there wasn't even the slightest twinge in my knee. My mind flashed back to Colt and how we used to screw around by putting each other in famous submission holds like the figure four or the Sharpshooter and find creative ways of countering the moves. I twisted onto my side, locked my legs and twisted my lower body, sending John into a half somersault, launching him across the floor. I jumped up and straddled John's hips, holding his shoulders down with my hands.

"1-2-3, I win," I said with a wide smile, leaning down to kiss John full on the lips. I pulled back and beamed at John, the happy shock of my knee not hurting while doing something I thought I would never get to do again.

"How did you do that? I've never seen that before."

"Maybe I'm a natural?" I said with a shocked tone. "I'll be right back," I said quickly, practically running to John's bathroom and locking the door behind me. I sat down on the edge of the tub and stared at the faded scars on my knee for a few minutes. When John had put that move on me it was supposed to cause searing pain but all I had felt was the stretch of my seldom used muscles. I had blown off physical therapy after my surgery. I had tried to push myself in the months after surgery but always ended up laid up on the sofa, unable to even walk without pain. I had never really pushed my body after that, what was the use, really?

I stood up, doing a few deep squats without any pain. I turned to face the bathtub and jumped up, clearing the walls of the tub and landing on my feet on the edge without even the slightest wobble. It wasn't exactly a leap to the top rope but it was definitely in range of the middle turnbuckle. I wanted to bolt out the room, through the front door and run until my diminished stamina gave out but I couldn't. I couldn't share my elation with John who had no idea about my injury. I took my phone out of my pocket and called the only person who would understand completely. I waited for the call to connect and didn't give the chance to even say hello.

"Colt! My knee!"

"Punk, oh god, did you reinjure yourself?"

"Just the opposite. I think it's healed or something."

"Do I even want to know how you figured that one out?"

"It doesn't matter. It doesn't hurt at all."

"You should go to the doctor, get an MRI and find out for sure that something's changed."

"I'm out of town right now, but the second I get back I'll make an appointment; probably after I run until I can't breathe."

"I would tell you what a stupid idea that is but I know you won't listen to a word I say. Just try to keep the miles in the single digit range."

"I make no promises."

"Phil, are you okay?" I heard John call through the door, knocking lightly.

"Who's that?" Colt asked with a laugh. "He sounds particularly eager."

"I'm…I guess you could say…it's someone I'm seeing. I'm staying with him for the week."

"That sounds awfully serious, especially for you."

"It's an odd situation. I can't really explain what's going on, not yet."

"I'll let you get back to him then. Call me after your appointment."

"You'll be my first call. Bye."

I looked in the mirror as I made my way to the door and caught sight of the wide and unbelieving smile on my face. If my knee was truly healed it would change everything. I threw the door open and wrapped my arms around John, kissing him squarely on the mouth.

"What was that all about? I thought you had decided to move into my bathroom."

"Maybe I just wanted to give you time to come to terms with your loss without me gloating at my ability to take you down."

"You got lucky."

"Luck is for losers."

"Luck is for…wait; I've heard that before..."

"I didn't patent the phrase," I said with forced lightness, knowing exactly who he would have heard that saying from. This was the moment when I should tell John everything but I stayed silent. We had these last few days together and I didn't want to ruin it by confessing to be a liar of grand proportions. What would be his reaction? Would he be mad at being lied to and made a fool of? Even worse, I couldn't stand to see pity in his eyes at my broken dreams, the lack of a glass case with shiny belts that I would never have.

My eyes frantically looked around the house, looking for some sort of escape and stopping when they landed on the glass door that led to his patio and out to his pool. I took off, shedding clothes as I headed out the door, John following at a more sedate pace. I hit the water, water splashing everywhere. When I surfaced I saw John standing at the edge of the pool, half dressed and drenched from the spray. When my eyes took in the pool area they focused in on the diving board at the end of the pool. I swam at full speed to the deep end, levering myself out of the water and climbed onto the diving board. I ran to the edge, turning at the very end and hitting a moonsault, as crooked as it ever had been. When I broke the plane of the water, I couldn't help but smile. It felt as natural as it ever did. I turned to face John who was looking at me like I had lost my mind.

"You could have broken your neck with that stunt, Phil."

"I'm feeling particularly acrobatic."

"Acrobatic? That sounds very promising."

AN: I know it's been ages since I updated last but I'm trying to get back to writing again. You'll have to wait for the next chapter for my favorite smut, pool sex, but I hope you enjoyed the little plot twist!