Disclaimer: I do not own Shane Helms or Shannon Moore (although that'd be pretty nice, now wouldn't it?).  They belong to the WWE.

******

I'm a jerk.  I know it.

            I know you know it, too.  Even though you continue to gaze up at me with those wide, innocent, adoring green eyes, I know you must think I'm not worth it.  And even when you gently take my hand in yours, intertwining our fingers, I know you must want to clap me upside the head, instead.

            Don't you?  You should.

            After all, I was the one who turned a "blind" eye when you first realized you had feelings for me (why me?  Out of all people… why me?).  I was the one who just shook my head in consternation, trying to convince you that if anything, it was just a crush and you'd get over it.  I pretended not to see the hurt on your face as you lowered your head and refused to speak to anyone for the rest of the night.  The next day, I pretended nothing had happened, that you had never poured your heart out to me the night before.

            I was the one who was oblivious all this time.  Yes, Shannon.  It was all one-sided.  You were the only one who thought there was something a bit… more… growing between us.

            Your words, not mine.

            Of course, I was the one who never told you I'd been thinking those exact words all along.

            And it was me who refused your advances one night, then made the moves on you the next.  Me who couldn't resist your soft lips closing over mine, your hand trailing down my chest to rest on my stomach.  Me who couldn't resist placing a hand on your thigh when I felt your leg pressing against mine, your heat washing over me as if it didn't have to cross a barrier at all.  My fingertips lingering on your hardness.  Me who turned my face away when you leaned in for a kiss.

            I didn't see the tears in your eyes.  All those times.

            I don't know what you see in me.  I don't know why you chose me.  But I know why I chose you.  Apart from the fact that you're my best friend and we've been together practically forever.  Apart from the fact that we've lasted through the worst of arguments; that I'm closer to you than anyone else I know.  Disregarding that you're simply beautiful-  flaxen black-streaked hair framing a face like an angel's, perfect, sculpted body just waiting to be touched, succulent, open lips just waiting to be …

            I wish I could be what you needed.  I wish I were that person who could love you back, who could give you everything you deserve.  I wish I could take your face in my hands, look you straight in the eyes, and say, "Shannon Brian Moore, I love you with all my heart and soul.  I love you more than I ever thought humanly possible.  I love you more than should be allowed in our earthly realm.  I want you.  I need you.  I love you."  How many times have I wanted to say that, so sure that today was the day?  How often had I raised my hand to the side of your face, thumb tracing your handsome features?  How often had I looked into your expectant eyes… and then looked away?

            Shannon, I can't be what you want.  I don't think I ever will be.  Don't want me; I don't understand it.  Don't kiss me; I don't deserve it.  And most of all – don't love me, I'm not worth it.