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Title: Vertigo
Author: Lizzie
E-mail: [email protected]
Rating: I don�t know, maybe R?
Content: Angst, maybe a little language, and some borderline suicidal thoughts.
Disclaimer: They're not mine, and unless I wake up one morning having mysteriously become Vince McMahon, I doubt they ever will be. Damn, that's a scary thought.
Distribution: Not that you're likely to want it, but if you do, just tell me where.
Summary: Kurt�s only way of making the mornings after bearable.
Notes: The lyrics quoted at the end (just a couple of lines, which basically inspired the whole story), are from Hyperballad by Bjork. I�m laying no claim to those, just like I don�t the characters.

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Vertigo
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Every time we check into a hotel the first thing I do is check to see we have a balcony. I ask the clerk when we walk in, then I go upstairs to see for myself, too. Because if the room doesn�t have a balcony, we can�t stay there. And if we�re not at least four floors up we can�t stay there either. I complain to reception and I keep going until we either have the room we asked for, the right room, or we leave to find a hotel that will actually give me what I want.

You see, for once it�s not Hunter being the awkward one. Sure, he�ll send his coffee back if it�s even a degree too cold, he�ll whine about his jeans fading or how he can�t get his car seat in quite the right place, but hotel rooms he doesn�t have a problem with. He�d sleep in the rented SUV and still be happy, �cause he can sleep anywhere. Not that he�s going to complain about the rooms and the hotels I choose � they�re comfortable and private and he can order steak at 2am if he feels like it. Sometimes he does. And I guess now he�s figured out, after all the stubborn-as-hell we-have-to-stay-here-or-we�re-not-fucking speeches, that this is what it takes to shut me up.

So he puts up with it. I mean, I think he�s getting to appreciate the rooms now because at least if he�s not in the SUV he doesn�t get woken up by birds or the sun or cops or whatever. And if we stay in the hotel with a queen-size bed and ridiculously soft sheets then we get to sleep together. Both ways you can take that are true; we sleep together, then we sleep together. He gathers me up in his arms and we fall asleep that way. That�s not the kind of thing you can do in an SUV. Especially not if you want to get your deposit back.

Not that we haven�t road-tested the SUV a couple of times, but I can�t sleep there. I need to wake up in a hotel room when we�re on the road if at all possible. And I mean at all. A couple of times I�ve been so adamant that we find a room that we�ve driven around all night looking. It takes a busted engine, a blizzard or some major act of God before I�ll give in, and even then I go down fighting. That�s only happened twice as long as we�ve been together. Well, as long as I�ve needed to insist we find a room, it�s only happened twice.

When I�m at home it doesn�t matter that I�m not over three floors up or that I don�t have a balcony. Because he�s not there. We don�t live together. Not that we�ve never talked about it, but we came to the conclusion long ago that after a year like this we don�t like together because we can�t live together. We�d drive each other insane in five seconds flat and we know it, not to mention the fact that somehow we�re still a secret. Probably the best-kept secret in the whole federation, considering this is one of those places where everyone knows everything about everyone else.

But they don�t know about us. That�s the way Hunter likes it. Yeah, that particular peculiar hang-up isn�t mine, because to be completely honest I don�t care who knows we�re together. I don�t care if Vince knows or Stephanie knows or the whole damn country. In fact, I kinda of want people to know. It might make me feel a little better.

Because knowing Hunter wants to keep us a secret � that he doesn�t want anyone to know about us � hurts. It hurts like hell. Every time we walk into an arena and have to pretend like we�re just friends, every time we�re walking down a street and I want to reach for his hand but know I can�t, every time I need to hold him even though there are people there but I can see the panic in his eyes, it hurts just that little bit more than the time before.

He can�t even say it�s because no one knows he�s not into women, because he�s fucked his way through half the current roster and everyone know it. He can�t say it�s because he wants to keep our privacy, because practically everyone we know is in some kind of relationship and we�re all pretty darn respectful of each other�s privacy if only because we know how it feels. And he can�t even say he�s protecting me, because I�ve made it more than abundantly clear on more than one occasion that I love him and I couldn�t care less who knows about us, or the consequences.

He always cringes when I say that. I�m not sure he even knows he does it, but he does, like clockwork, every time I say it. He cringes when I tell him I love him. So now I don�t say it anymore.

And he�s never told me. I don�t think he ever will. Because I�m not even sure if he has it in him to say the words, let alone if he feels it. Sometimes I think he does, when he�s above me and inside me, staring into my eyes, or when he turns to me and smiles. Sometimes I really do believe he loves me, just like I love him. But then I remember that he doesn�t want anyone to know he�s with me, and all of that just falls to pieces.

I�ve tried to figure out why he wants to keep up a secret so many times. I�ve thought about it �til it�s made my head hurt. I don�t think I�ll ever know why for sure, but I damn sure have some theories. When I�m being optimistic it�s that he�s trying to keep the fun by having us sneak around. When I�m being realistic it�s that he�s just not ready to commit, or he�s a little unsure of himself in relationships. But lately my pet theory is that he�s using me. That all I�m good for is sex so he�s using me for it and he won�t admit we�re together because he�s so ashamed that it�s me. After all, after Kevin Nash and Shawn Michaels and Mark Calloway, what am I? I�m an embarrassment.

I figure that�s why no one knows. Because he�s ashamed that he�s lowered himself to being with me. When we�re together it�s just perfect and I look into his eyes and I just know that he wants this just as much as me. I can see I make him happy. And I know he loves me. But the second there�s even a remote possibility that someone could see us, all that�s lost. I lose him. And I can�t even begin to describe how much it hurts me when I lose him.

This relationship is all screwed up and I don�t have a problem admitting that. I keep trying to tell myself that it�s fine but I know that if he loved me even half as much as I love him then he�s be telling people, not keeping it a secret. If he loved me, he wouldn�t care who knew. He�d hold my hand and he�s hug me and he�d make it all okay. But he doesn�t. And he never will. It scares me to know that I�m in love with a man who will never love me.

But I can�t leave him. I know I should, but I can�t. I love him too much to be able to, no matter how much it hurts to be with him knowing what I know. I should leave him and find someone who can love me the way I deserve to be loved, because no matter what Hunter thinks of me I will not let him make me believe that he doesn�t love me because I don�t deserve it. I do. I think everyone does. And somewhere out there I believe there is someone who would give me what I deserve to have. It�s just a damn shame that Hunter�s the only one who can give me what I need.

So I stay. I spend almost every waking moment wondering why I stay, but I stay. We travel together. We room together. It�s a miracle no one�s caught on from those two facts alone. Still, I guess his �I have a boyfriend back home� cover and the fact everyone thinks I�m celibate kinda help. And we�re both good enough actors to pull it off. Although sometimes I have to wonder if he really does have a boyfriend back home. I�d have no way of knowing. All I know for sure is that while we�re on the road I�m the only one he�s fucking.

Not that it feels like fucking, the way we do it. If feels like making love. It feels special. If feels right, kinda like I was made for him to fit. He kisses me like I�m the only thing in the world that matters to him. He makes love to me like I mean everything. Then he holds me like he�ll never let me go. And even if it�s only like those things and even if this is all a lie, this is all it takes to keep me with him. It outweighs all the bad stuff because if all I get is a few hours feeling like the man I love loves me back, it�s worth it. Even if it scares the living hell out of me to be with him the rest of the time.

The morning after the night before is always the worst bit. It�s inevitable. No matter what time we fall asleep I wake up at sunrise, usually still in his arms, and as I watch him sleep I get to thinking. About us, about him. But mainly about me. And not in a good sense. Because I lie there and I start to think about how he�s going to hurt me. I think about us being a secret. I think about how he cringes when I say I love him. I think about how he�s never once told me that he loves me. And it scares me.

But what scares me the most as I lie there is how vulnerable I am. You see, he could do anything to me and I�d still love him. He could do anything, say anything, and I�d never leave him. He could hit me, he could laugh at me � I�d still be there. And I know he has it in him to do all of that, and more than I could even imagine. He could hurt me all he wants, because like I said, I love him too much to let him go. And the way I see it, if he doesn�t love me then it�s only a matter of time �til he gets tires of being with me and decides to break me instead.

I lie in bed and I think of the men I�ve seen him break. Edge, Christian, both Hardys, Jericho� to name but a few. He got tired of them then took them apart. And they didn�t love him, so imagine how much more he could do to me. That�s what really scares me. One days he�s going to start taking me apart piece by piece, and I love him so much I won�t be able to stop him. He�ll use that against me. That�s what I think about when I wake up with him the morning after. If that isn�t vulnerability I don�t know what is.

So I pull myself from his arms, gently, though he sleeps like the dead so it�s not like I need to be gentle. I pull on my jeans. I check he�s still asleep then I open the door and step out onto the balcony.

I hold the railing and feel the cold metal drain the heat from my hands as I look over. Usually I�m high enough for it to almost make my head spin, �cause even if I�m not exactly phobic about heights they kinda of unsettle me. Hunter can�t understand why I insist on a balcony and a room this high if I�ve got vertigo, even if it�s only mild, and I don�t expect him to understand. It�s not like I�m going to sit down and explain it to him.

I stand and I peer over the edge. I try to guestimate how far I am from the ground. I�ll pick up a cocktail stick or a balled up napkin or the ring pull from a soda can and I�ll drop it over to watch it fall. I watch it all the way down, falling from the balcony until it hits the asphalt at the bottom. Sometimes, if it�s early enough and there�s no one around, I�ll drop something bigger. A soda can, a bag of chips, maybe a glass. I like the way the cans bounce and the glasses shatter. I like the way they sound as they hit the floor.

I wonder what my body would sound like as it hit the floor.

I wonder if the thud as I hit would be louder, or the bones breaking. I wonder if I�d die right away or if I�d live awhile after. I wonder how much it would hurt. I wonder if I�d scream on the way down, if I�d be loud enough to wake Hunter. I wonder if the last thing I�d see would be my blood on the paving. I wonder if my eyes would be closed or open.

I get dizzier and dizzier as I stare down. I stand on my tiptoes and lean over the railing until I think I�ll either throw up or pass out my head�s spinning so fast and so hard. I stay there until I just can�t anymore, wondering how it feels to fall that far, how it feels to hit the ground. It makes me shiver. Heights really do scare me, but not half as much as the thought as falling from them does. Sometimes I look down and I can almost feel the air rushing past me, the sidewalk rushing up to meet me, and I start to panic. I stay there as long as I can, getting as scared as I can. And then I step back. I take a deep breath and I go inside.

I slip off my jeans and I slip back between the sheets, my heart hammering like I�m about to have a coronary. I arrange Hunter�s arms around me, I sigh, I lay my head against his chest and I wait for my heartbeat to slow down to something like his. His arms tighten around me instinctively. I close my eyes and I smile.

There�s a reason I have to have the balcony. It�s because when I come back inside and I go back to bed, when I think about falling, when I think about dying, being with Hunter actually makes me happy. Every now and then I need a little reminder that what might happen tomorrow doesn�t matter. Not now. Not when I�m with him. Because I love him and I�m with him. Because compared to death, Hunter is safety. Death scares me more than he does. And lying in his arms I feel safe.

Feeling safe with him is my happiest moment. And when I�m happy I know I make him happy. And if he�s happy then maybe he won�t leave me. So every time I stand on that balcony and every time I think about jumping � I know that fear is what keeps him in my life. I�m sure he thinks I have a balcony fetish, but really I just love him.

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�I go through all this before you wake up
So I can feel happier to be safe again with you�.
- Hyperballad � Bjork.

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End
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