These Arms of Stone

By Archangel

He moved silently through the rain, looking out of place among the headstones in the desert heat. The rain itself was out of place in El Paso in the middle of a heat wave. It was a relief to the sweltering city, but not to him. Nothing could relieve the pain deep inside of his heart, the pain that haunted him at night. But then if he was honest with himself it wasn’t the pain that was haunting. It was the love. The love that was now six feet beneath his sneakers; six feet below his knees as he kneeled down in the soggy grass. He set down the flower, the single red rose, the symbol of love. It was a symbol that had flowed between them, throughout them, and leaked into every aspect of life.

Roses were Eddie’s favorite flower after all.

Chris lifted his bowed head to look at the headstone of his best friend. He had seen this memorial hundreds of times and still it shocked him to see the name. Eduardo Guerrero. Tears welled up in his eyes and he looked back down, running his hands over the wet grass, hearing the rain pouring down all around him. The sound was deafening. It helped to block out the thoughts that came to him every time he came to this place, the joyful memories of the man that meant more to him than any other.

“Thought of you this morning when I made breakfast,” he said quietly, speaking to no one visible. “Breakfast burritos. Of all things.” He snorted with amusement. “Can’t drive past a Taco Bell without hearing you complaining that it’s not real Mexican food. I’d love to have some of your tamales right now. I miss seeing you in the kitchen when I wake up.”

Chris sighed and looked up at the sky above him, squinting into the rain at the grey clouds. It was a bittersweet irony that it would rain the day he visited the cemetery, as if this were some sort of movie he was living in. Sometimes it seemed like that to him. Everything around him kept going on. Life kept moving along without a hitch and time didn’t stop and that all seemed like a crime; a blasphemous sin against the world and against his heart. Life shouldn’t have continued without Eddie in it.

“Nothing is easy, never has been...” he paused. “We both knew that the hard way huh? Life is hard and that’s what makes it worth it when you survive it, right? You have to be hard... tough... strong.” He squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his fists. “So why aren’t you still here?!”

He sobbed abruptly, leaning forward to touch the cold stone as if he could reach out and touch the man that had been the center of his life for so many years. But the stone gave no comfort. The stone felt no remorse. The stone couldn’t hold him as he cried, couldn’t crack a joke to make him laugh, couldn’t give him that contagious smile that always seemed to say “everything will be okay.”

“Everyday is so hard... and it’s harder without you with me. It all seems so wrong... It’s not real to me anymore. None of it really means a fuck.”

He tried in vain to stop his tears, something in the back of his mind telling him to suck it up. He knew that so much time had passed and it was senseless to keep crying. No amount of tears shed could bring Eddie back to him.

“I love you.” He rested his forehead against the icy headstone, kissing it briefly. “I miss you so much.”

He took a deep breath, just leaning heavily against the grave marker, the beautiful headstone. Eduardo Guerrero. He stared up into the rain and saw the gray clouds, heard the rain and felt it wash over his burning cheeks. Closing his eyes again he remembered his friend, hearing his voice in his head, seeing his hair shining in the light, the roses on his shirts, the roses on the table, the warmth of his smile, the warmth of his skin, the warmth of his kiss. And the pain inside of his heart echoed through his entire body.

Time passed and the rain stopped. After a little while longer the clouds parted and the sun shone down warmly upon Chris, rousing him from his sleep. He squinted his eyes open and sat up, looking around, realizing he’d fallen asleep in the grass and mud next to Eddie’s grave. He groaned and stretched, every jointing popping and sore. He looked at the stone, the cold gravestone that couldn’t feel or sympathize or smile or comfort him, yet had held him up as he slept. He leaned in and kissed it again, running his fingers over the name and the golden rose underneath it.

“See you next week, Eddie.”

He got to his feet, swiping the mud off his butt, walking back to his car. The stone still stood behind him as it always did, silent and cold and unfeeling, waiting for him to return the following week to hold him once again.

The End

Legalities: Eddie Guerrero is copyright to himself. Chris Benoit, and any other mentioned characters are copyright to World Wrestling Entertainment. I claim no knowledge of their sexuality or personal lives. I gained no profit from this story. This work is complete fiction.

A/N: I wanted to write a Benoit/Guerrero story for an extremely long time, but never did because I knew people would think it disrespectful. This wasn’t written to slander. This was written with love.

We miss you, Eddie.