The lonesome Texas sun was setting low and in the rearview mirror I watched it go
I can still see the wind in his golden hair, I close my eyes for a moment, I'm still there
The bluest eyes in Texas are haunting me tonight
Like the stars that fill the midnight sky his memory fills my mind
Where did I go wrong? Did I wait too long or can I make it right?
The bluest eyes in Texas are haunting me tonight
Another town, another hotel room, another dream that ended way too soon
Left me lonely way before the dawn, searching for the strength to carry on
The bluest eyes in Texas are haunting me tonight
Like the stars that fill the midnight sky his memory fills my mind
Where did I go wrong? Did I wait too long or can I make it right?
The bluest eyes in Texas are haunting me tonight
For every heart you break, you pay the price
But I can't forget the tears in his blue eyes
The bluest eyes in Texas are haunting me tonight
Like the stars that fill the midnight sky his memory fills my mind
Where did I go wrong? Did I wait too long or can I make it right?
The bluest eyes in Texas are haunting me tonight.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I didn't want to do the house show in San Antonio. I begged Flair for the night off, made up some lame ass excuse about my mom being sick, but he wouldn't hear of it. Ever since the split, he insisted that I be at every show. It's because I'm so good at booking matches, he says. No matter how much I plead, he wouldn't let me off the hook. God, I hate that man! He told me that I couldn't get off that easy. He made it sound like it was some kind of sentence or something. He didn't need to punish me, though. I did that every day of my life.

I stand at the airport, waiting for my rental car. I can hear the others behind me, talking and laughing. Why the hell are they so happy, when I'm so miserable? You know that old saying, misery loves company? What a crock! I want to be all alone - alone with my misery, my memories, and my bastard self. I hear the Hardys behind me, arguing over who was going to pay for the car. Hope Matt wins, I think to myself. I've seen Jeff drive - even Mt. Rushmore isn't safe when he's behind the wheel!

The clerk hands me the keys to my rental and I turn away from the counter, ready to get the hell out of there and get this over with. I hate San Antonio. Not the city itself, just the memories. I love Texas, except in the summer. I used to wrestle in Dallas, years ago. But now, the only thing I think of when I think of Texas is…him.

I'm afraid that he's going to show up tonight, and I don't know if I can deal with it. Yeah, you heard me - I'm scared. Quoth the Raven - I am frightened. What if he's there? What if he's not? I'm waging a never-ending internal battle when I feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn and look into the emerald eyes of one Jeff Hardy. "Please tell me you aren't driving, Rain," I say to him. He shakes his head. "Nope," he answers in that slow southern drawl that always reminds me of…him. I breath a sigh of relief. "They ain't got our reservation, and they say they ain't got a car we can use either," Jeff explains as Matt walks over to us.

"Hey man," Matt says breathlessly. "You got anybody ridin' with ya?" he asked. I shake my head. "If ya could, can we catch a ride with ya? They lost our reservation. I'll chip in for gas and the car and stuff," he says, talking a mile a minute. And they say Jeff is the hyper one! I nod. "Sure," I say. Might be nice to have some company. A distraction from my thoughts. As they gather their bags, I turn to them. "As long as you keep him moderately quiet," I say, pointing to Jeff. Matt looks at me like I'm deranged. Maybe I am.

We pile into the car, tossing bags into the trunk. Driving to the arena, Jeff begs to stop at every fast food restaurant and convenience store along the way. Matt tells him to shut up every time, throwing me an apologetic look each time. I attempt to smile at him, to let him know that it's okay. I knew what I was getting in to when I agreed to this. Finally, after what seemed like hours, we arrived. As I pulled into the parking garage, I scanned the cars there. I don't recognize any of them, so maybe, just maybe, I lucked out and he won't be here.

We grabbed our bags from the trunk and entered the side door. A group of fans began calling to us, so Jeff ran over to sign autographs. Matt tried to call him back, but Jeff didn't hear him - or just didn't want to listen. Matt shook his head as I opened the door for him, since Jeff had tossed his bag on the ground and Matt had retrieved it. I chuckled at him. "Don't know how you do it, man," I said as we checked in with the security guard. "Drugs," Matt said. I turned to him. "You or him?" I asked. Matt laughed. "Like he needs anything to make him that way!" I laugh as well and head off to find the locker room I'll be using that evening.

The bench was hard under my thighs, the wall cool behind my head. Most of the guys were quiet now, either lost in their own thoughts or planning their moves for the night. If you asked anybody here, they would tell you that these were their favorite matches to work. No pressure of live TV or cameras in your face. This is where we let loose, let ourselves show through just a bit more than our characters.

I watched as Taker entered the room. Now there was a guy who really had fun when he was playing only to the live crowd in the arena. He smiled at me as he walked by - well, if you called that thing he did with his mouth a smile. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes again. My mind drifted back to the last time I had been in this arena, in this town. And that fear began to overtake me again.

We were alone, a rarity at that time. He had scoped the arena to find a quiet place for us to "talk" undisturbed. Needless to say, we weren't doing much talking, though his mouth was quite active. I was leaning against the wall, relishing the feel of his hot mouth wrapped around my throbbing erection. I moaned and reached down to wrap my fingers in his hair, giving him a signal he knew all too well. Giving me one final lick, he rose and pressed his lips to mine, delving into my mouth with his tongue, allowing me to taste my own salty fluids.

He dropped his pants and turned toward the wall, placing his hands at shoulder level, spreading his legs as wide as he could. I reached into my pocket and pulled the tube of gel out, coating my hand with the gooey substance. I ran my dry hand over his taut ass, loving every inch of his hot skin. Slipping my fingers inside him, I felt him tense, then slowly relax as he adjusted to the presence in his tight entrance. I leaned forward and nipped the skin at his shoulder. He moaned, releasing a huge breath he had been holding.

"So good," he drawled lazily. Behind him, I grinned, knowing the effect I was having on him. I couldn't wait to bury myself deep inside his heat. But, as always, I relied on him to tell me when he wanted more. After a few moments of slipping my fingers in and out of him, rubbing that sweet spot that would make him burn to the core, he reached back and grabbed my wrist. "I want you now," he breathed huskily. Who was I to refuse?

I removed my fingers and placed the head of my cock at his entrance. In a move that I knew as well as his the ones he had used in the ring, he reached back with one hand and grabbed my hip, then thrust his ass back, forcing my cock to slide all the way home inside him. He made this sound - like a cross between a groan and a gasp - a sound that I could repeat in my sleep, until the day I took my last breath. "How do you want it?" I asked, being a man of tradition. And, in his own traditional fashion, he said through clenched teeth, "fast and deep, baby. Fuck me fast and deep." Again, who was I to refuse this perfect angel who had shown me what Heaven truly was?

Wrapping an arm around his waist, I reached down with my other hand and stroked his erection in time with my thrusts, making sure that I rubbed him the right way, both inside and out. I felt his chest rising rapidly, knowing that it wouldn't take long for him to fall into an orgasmic abyss. He made soft noises deep in his throat, his whiskey voice urging me on. From his earlier actions, my release couldn't be held back for long. "Let go, baby," I whispered hotly in his ear.

Before long, I was rewarded with a long, low growl from deep inside him, his body tensing. I felt his sticky essence coating my hand as mine flowed into his heavenly heat. For a moment, nothing else existed beyond the juncture of our bodies. Pulling apart, we were straightening our clothes when he leaned over and kissed me. "I love you," he said, his eyes tearing up. Involuntarily, my mouth opened and I said the only thing I could in response to his declaration - "why?" He looked at me for a moment, then burst into tears. I was about to apologize for what I said when a knock at the door interrupted me. The door opened and Taker was standing there. "Ten minutes till your match, Scotty," Taker said, looking bewildered as he rushed out past him, crying. Taker turned to me, looking for an explanation. I shrugged, then went looking for him.

I heard the production assistant calling for me, so I made my way to the curtain and proceeded out into the arena. When I returned to the backstage area, he had gone. I called him, but he refused to answer the phone. I drove to his house. All the lights were out, but his car was parked in the driveway. He wouldn't answer the door either. As I was walking back to my car, I saw him standing in the back yard. His back was to me, facing the sunset. The orange-pink light was shining through his hair, making him even more angelic than he looked earlier. He heard me approaching and turned, his tear stained face unreadable.

He raised a hand to stop me. "Don't," he said, stopping me in my tracks. "Just go." I opened my mouth to speak, but he brushed past me, heading toward the house. I stood there until I heard the door slam, then I left. I saw him walk out onto the porch as I pulled out of the driveway onto the road. A slight breeze picked up his hair, making it appear as if he had gossamer wings flowing from his head. "I love you, too," I chokingly whispered through my tears. That sight would remain etched in my mind forever, him standing there, his bright blue eyes brimming with tears, the sun playing off his hair, my heart breaking right along with his.

That had been a year ago, and I had successfully avoided him since. Not a day went by that I didn't think of him, and the biggest mistake I have ever made. Not a single one of those 365 days had been occupied with anything other than the joy he brought me, the love he gave me. And now, here I was again, hoping I don't have to face him, wishing that I could touch him.

I'm suddenly drawn out of my thoughts by loud voices around me. I look up as a small group of men enter the dressing room. Hall is being his usual loud, obnoxious self, arguing loudly with Matt - in Spanish, no less. Jeff has attached himself firmly to Nash, riding piggyback across the room to the bench I'm on. Sean and PJ were whispering to each other and laughing. I look up at them and want to tell them to shut up. But, remembering my decision earlier to wallow in my misery alone, I hold my tongue.

That is, until the door opens again and there he is. My life. My love. My angel. Everyone gathers around him, shaking hands, hugging, making inquiries about his life. He's laughing, talking to everyone. I try to make myself invisible, sink into the wall behind me, anything to avoid his gaze, his attention.

After a few moments, he sees me and smiles at me, a bittersweet acknowledgement of my pathetic existence. Suddenly, he is walking toward me, sitting next to me, talking to me. "How ya been, Scotty?" he asks, his drawling voice going straight to my heart. I look up at him and open my mouth. Knowing I could buy my way out of this easily with a lie. But, I find my mouth betraying my common sense. "Like hell," I said. He trains his eyes on me, searching for something. Finally, he speaks again. "I'm sorry to hear that," he said.

I want to touch him. This is the only thing in my mind, my heart, at that very moment. I want to touch him, hold him, kiss him, love him - the same way he loved me long ago. "No," I say. He looks at me, his eyebrows knit together. "I'm sorry," I say. "I tried to call, I wrote to you," I began to say. He looked at me and asked the question that he needed answered. "Why?"

It was my turn for confusion. "I wanted to tell you how sorry I was, that I never meant to hurt you," I said. He shook his head. "No," he says. "Why did you say that to me? Do you know how that hurt me?" I looked around. "Can we go somewhere else and talk about this?" I ask. "Somewhere alone?" Without a word, he rose from the bench and walked out of the room. I followed him quickly. It only took me a moment to realize where he was headed.

He opened the door to the small office and waited for me to follow him inside. After I had entered, he closed the door quietly behind him, then turned to me, tears kissing the corners of his eyes. I opened my mouth to speak, but he cut me off. "Do you know how hard it was for me to tell you that I loved you?" he asked. "I have been hurt so many times in my life, by people that I thought I could trust. I finally realized that I could trust you with anything. I gave you my heart that night, and you stomped on it. Why?"

I felt that old fear rising up within me. Calling upon every ounce of strength I had, I forced it back down. Looking at him, I said, "I was scared." "Bullshit," he practically spat at me. I reached for his arms, grasping them firmly. "It's true," I said. "I loved you so much, but I never thought you could love me, too. You're so perfect, so beautiful, so wonderful - what could you ever see in a freak like me?"

Anger flashed through his deep blue eyes. "You are not a freak!" he said. "You are a beautiful man with an even more beautiful soul. You made me feel so special, and loved, all the time. I love you so much that it hurts." I start to speak when I realized what he had just said. "You…" I began to stammer, "you love me?" He looks away quickly, then searches my eyes. Making the most important decision of his life, he says, "yes, Scotty, I love you. I always have. I never stopped. I've spent the last year of my life wondering what I was ever going to do without you."

His tears were flowing freely again, bringing back the memories that had haunted me for what seemed like a lifetime. I wrapped my arms around his waist, pulling him close. "Say it," I whispered. "Tell me again." I reached up and wiped a tear from his cheek. He looked deep into my eyes and said, "I love you, Scott. Only you. Always you." A year of bad memories and mind-numbing fear rushed out of me. I looked at him, as if seeing him for the first time. I berated myself for my stupidity, my weakness, and most of all, my fear.

With the tiniest of smiles, I placed my hand on his heart. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes for a moment. When I opened them, I was staring into the windows to Heaven. Kissing him softly, I made my decision. Misery may love company, but joy thrived in the masses. Taking his head in my hands, I tangled my fingers in his golden mane and kissed him deeper. I felt him melt into my touch, knowing that it wasn't too late.

Righting a wrong I made so long ago, I gave in, and for the first time in my life, spoke the three little words that would clear the clouds in those eyes, eyes the color of an early Texas spring morning. Seeing the look of anticipation in his eyes, I knew that I was were I belonged, and so was he. And the smile on his face when I finally said, "I love you too, Shawn" told me that I was right. For every heart you break, you pay a price. But, for every heart you mend, you reap a reward…and the Heartbreak Kid was mine.