A couple of hours had passed since Kip collected Andy and agreed that it was probably best that Paul stay at Brian’s house. A couple of hours for Paul to sit there and plan his next move. He’d thought about what he’d say to Brian when the time came for them to talk, and he could only come to one conclusion. He needed to be next to Brian. Someplace he hadn’t been in years. He got off the couch, where he’d planned to sleep that night, and headed upstairs.

The hinges of the door gave a slight creak when he opened it and he prayed it wouldn’t wake Brian up. He stepped inside the room, leaving the door open slightly to let light in. He stood there for a few minutes trying to regain his breath. He’d forgotten how angelic Brian looked while he was sleeping. This was a little ritual Paul had repeated several times before. During the good times and the bad. After finally recovering the breath that had alluded him for a few minutes, Paul sank down in a chair, feeling at home for the first time in years.

Paul had sat there for half an hour staring at Brian and fidgeting with a ring on his finger, letting the memories wash over him like warm water on a cold morning, when he was jolted from his own mind. “I thought you’d have taken that thing off by now.” Brian said, sitting up in bed and looking at Paul through the thin stream of light that was coming from the cracked door.

“I noticed that you’re not wearin’ yours anymore.” Paul said, after his heart had stopped pounding in his ears.

“I still wear it.” Brian said holding up his hand.

Paul squinted his eyes but didn’t see any band of gold around Brian’s finger. Instinctively, Paul got up and walked the few steps to the bed and sat down next to the love of his life. That’s when he noticed it. A tattoo of a drawing he’d done years ago while they were waiting to catch a flight. Paul wanted to say something, but the words just wouldn’t come out. He did the only thing he could think to do. He gently took Brian’s hand and kissed the tattoo. “You did this after I left, didn’t you?” Paul asked, not letting Brian’s hand go.

Brian almost pulled his hand away from Paul, but something stopped him. “I just needed to feel connected to you.” Brian said, looking down at his hand in Paul’s. “It also reminded me of what I was working toward in rehab.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that by yourself.” Paul said, hanging his head to hide the shame from Brian.

“Why’d you leave the way you did?” Brian said, finally letting some hurt show in his voice. “Why couldn’t you wait and tell me you were leaving me?”

Paul squeezed Brian’s hand tighter. He knew that this question would come up, but he hadn’t prepared himself for the emotion he’d feel when it did. “I’d done everything I knew to help you.” Paul said, fighting the tears that were threatening to fall. “I felt so helpless. I couldn’t sit there and watch you hurt yourself anymore. And I couldn’t let myself hurt you anymore. I loved you too much for that.”

“Paul, I know you loved me.” Brian said, pulling Paul’s hand closer to him. “You told me all the time. You proved it everyday. Even when I was to far gone to comprehend anything, I understood that you loved me. When I’d pass out and wake up while we were making love, that was proof that you loved me.”

Paul froze. His breath caught in the back of his throat, and his body went rigid. “You knew that I was raping you?” He said, pulling his hand away from Brian. “And you thought it was making love?”

“Of course it was making love.” Brian said, desperately reaching for the warmth of Paul’s hand. “If it was rape you wouldn’t have made sure that I was satisfied at the end. You wouldn’t have held me while you cried, telling me how much you loved me. You wouldn’t have held me so tight it was hard to breath sometimes. Rapists don’t do those things Paul. Lovers do.”

“Wow. That kid was right.” Paul said, clasping Brian’s hand again. “You do make me sound like a saint.”

“What the hell are you talkin’ about?” Brian said, looking confused. “What kid?”

Paul smiled at Brian. He always had loved the confused look he could get. “That Andy kid. You know the one that’s dating Kip?” Paul said. “When he called me he told me that you made me sound like saint Paul.”

“Well you put up with my ass for all those years.” Brian said, throwing the covers back and getting out of bed. “I’ve got something for ya. It’s a letter I wrote in rehab. You see, one of the steps is making amends. I had to contact people that I’d hurt through my addiction and tell them I was sorry. I made amends with everyone but you. I just couldn’t send it.” Brian said, handing Paul an envelope, complete with address and stamp. “I want you to read it.”

Brian left the room as Paul opened the letter.

Dear Paul,

I’m sitting at my desk, thinking of you. So much has happened in the distant and recent past that I don’t know where to start. I guess the logical place would be to say I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t begin to cover what I’ve put you through. I know, now, that all the pain and suffering I went through was nothing compared to what you had to endure.

The only thing that’s getting me through all of this, is the thought of you waiting for me when I get out. I guess that’s not a very realistic thought, but it’s getting me through. I didn’t mean to hurt you the way I did. I feel so weak. I had someone like you and threw it all away for some little white pills. I should have been stronger than that. I should have been stronger for you.

As long as I can remember, you’ve been the strong one. Protecting me from anything that could hurt me, or anyone that would do me harm. I know the hell you went through when I was hardcore champ. I remember the tears was the first thing I noticed about you after every match. I remember reassuring you that I was alright, even if I wasn’t. I bet you didn’t know this, but it was my decision to drop that belt. I just couldn’t put you through that anymore. I remember the joy in your eyes when I lost that title. I’d give anything to see that joy now.

I know that can’t happen though. As I write this, I’m looking at a picture that was taken November thirtieth, 1998. You remember what happened that day? I do. That’s the day that we stood before God and our friends and professed our love for each other. You slipped a ring on my finger and I slipped one on yours. Our lives were connected from that moment on. I still love the way this ring feels on my finger, the way the light catches it, and it shimmers with gold. It reminds me of your hair. I want to feel that hair in my fingers right now. But I know I can’t.

I don’t really remember when it all started to go downhill. I just know that I should have never listened to Waltman. You were so worried about my aches and pains, and I didn’t want to put you through that anymore. I remember he told me that if one pill didn’t work, just take two. I’m not blaming my addiction on him. He didn’t hold me down and force me to take the pills. I just didn’t want you to worry about me anymore. And don’t misunderstand me. I’m not blaming you either. I just wanted you to know why I started taking the pills. Eventually, though, I started taking them just to get high.

That’s when my life ended. At least in my eyes. I lied to you about so many things. It’d take this whole notebook to confess every one. Most of them were just white lies. I know I told you a few times that I was going to the gym and went to get more pills and get high, stuff like that. The big lie, though, you don’t even know about. I think I cheated on you. I’m not really for sure.

One night, while you were at some meeting with the suits, I went back to our hotel room and I remember taking my usual evening cocktail. After a while I got thirsty so I went to the pop machine and Test asked me how I was doing. I told him fine, got my pop and went back to the room. I passed out sometime after that and woke up with someone inside me. I remember seeing blonde hair and thinking it was you. I thought it was until someone collapsed beside me. I was still hard. That made me clear my eyes and actually look. It was Test.

He told me that I’d asked for it. He said, I begged him to fuck me. Paul I don’t remember saying any of that, but I was so messed up that I’m not sure.

I’m so sorry for hurting you. I know once you read this, that it’s over. I know that I have to deal with that somehow. But I just want you to know that I have always and will always love you with all my heart. I know it sounds corny but I found this poem that reminds me of us. Jeff Hardy gave me a copy of it.

You comfort me better than any chair, bedroom, or house...
You amaze me more than any facts, stories, truths, or lies...
You enhance me more than any drug, drink, pill, or powder...
You season me better than any salt, pepper, winter, or summer...
You entertain me more than any movie, show, song, or competition...
You control me better than any school, job, jail, or prison...
You love me than any person, God, business, or existence...
In my existence... believe... I do
In our existence... I live... for you

Lovingly yours
Brian

Paul read the letter at least three times. His love for Brian growing each time. He knew the courage it had to take to write this, and he understood why Brian couldn’t mail it. He folded the letter up, placed it in his wallet, and headed for the door. He didn’t know what would happen on the other side of it, but he knew that this had to end... tonight.