A/N: This is AU just because the times are going to be fucked up. They're still wrestlers though. And I'm a sucker for old movies. Anyone who can guess what movie this story is based off of gets a one-shot!
Memories are subjective.
Love makes fools out of all of us. At least, that's what I always thought. Love made me a fool. Love made her a fool. But our love was never foolish. In fact, it was anything but. It was serious. It was intense.
It was gone.
All we had were photographs, lies printed on paper to make us believe we were actually a happy couple.
Love doesn't make fools of us.
Memories lie. Memories warp the truth and make it something worth remembering.
Anyone who knew us remembers how happy we were.
We knew different.
But when I saw her again… I was one of many who thought we were perfect.
I was a sucker for memories.
It was her smile that made me weak.
She was so different. The princess, the daddy's girl. She got what she wanted, when she wanted it. Everyone dropped to their knees whenever she was around, they kissed her feet in reverence.
But she didn't want any of that.
And I was the only one who could see that.
We met in college, but didn't get together until afterward. Her father was my boss—I ran into her backstage, after one of my matches. My nose was bleeding and she helped me, even though there was a trainer standing right there.
She wasn't a spoiled brat.
She wanted to help people.
She wanted to help me.
And I let her.
She was just standing there, in her perfect coat that slapped against her legs whenever the winter wind would pick up. I hadn't seen her in five years, maybe six. She looked different, fuller, happier. Her eyes sparkled on the dreary day, reflected the clouds and made the gray bearable.
I wanted to cross the street and say hello.
But she was happy.
And I didn't want her to lose that smile.
"I ordered a new couch." She was fixing something at the stove, and she was wearing that blue sweater I always loved, because it made her eyes intense.
I didn't say anything because she always took my breath away.
She looked over and smiled at me. "It's not that bad, Chris. Wipe that destroyed look off your face."
"I know you love your couch, but seriously, it needs to go—"
"Oh. No, I'm not upset about the couch."
She frowned slightly. "What is it, then?"
"Nothing." I shrugged. "I just like your sweater."
She laughed and flipped her hair over her shoulder. I went behind her and pulled it back, running my fingers through it. It always felt like silk.
"So I ordered a coffee table, too. And some new curtains. And a crib."
My hands stopped on her ribs.
She was already smiling. I could hear it.
"Why would we need a crib?"
"For when the baby comes," she said airily.
I could feel my lips straining against my teeth. "Oh, yeah?"
"Mhm." She turned in my arms, eyes searching my face. "Aren't you ecstatic?"
I just put my face against her neck. "I couldn't choose a better adjective."
I should've turned around and left. I should've gotten the newspaper like I was going to, gotten into my cab, and headed for the airport.
But I just stood there and watched her live. Watched her smile, watched her laugh.
Watched someone get out of the cab with her.
And she turned to them to say something.
But her eyes fell onto me.
And my throat closed up.
"You can't just leave."
"Steph, I told you a million times, I have to!"
"But it doesn't make any sense! Why would you leave what you know you're good at?"
"Because I know I can sing, too!"
"But you won't make it, Chris. You won't make it and then you'll come crawling back because you're too stupid to realize that everything doesn't just get handed to you—"
"Oh, yeah, Princess? You really know that, don't you?"
She just stared at me for a moment, before she pressed her hand to her forehead. "We're going to wake up Andrew."
"We don't want to scare him, Chris!"
"Why? He needs to know that mommy doesn't have any faith in daddy!"
"I do have faith in you, Chris, I just—"
"You just what?"
She wouldn't look at me. She never looked at me anymore.
"This isn't going to work," she said quietly.
I shook my head. "At least we agree on something."
She was faking it. Faking that smile, that happiness in her voice.
I didn't know if I could do it.
But I'd made a living by pretending.
I went over there and hugged her tightly. "Steph, I thought it was you!"
"Yeah." She smiled and glanced at her friend. "Oh, Chris. This is Paul."
Paul nodded, held out his hand. "Nice to meet you."
I shook it, his grip was strong. Possessive. I took a step back. "You, too."
"Paul, this is Chris."
"Uh huh." He scratched the inside of his eye and looked away.
I cleared my throat. "Um, I don't have enough time right now, but how long are you here for?"
She shrugged. "A couple of days."
"Well, let's catch up. Get coffee or something."
She nodded. "Okay. Your number still the same?"
"It should be." I smiled, stepping onto the street. I almost fell in the gutter. "But I gotta... get going. Call me, Steph."
The emotion on her face was fading. "I will."
My suitcase was by the door. Everything else was in boxes, stamped with my new address. Old memories. Crushed dreams. They were all there, scattered amongst picture frames and shirts.
Andrew was still a baby, clinging to mommy.
I hugged her with him between us, so we didn't actually touch.
We couldn't even do that anymore.
"I'll make sure your stuff gets where it's supposed to," she said quietly, her voice tight.
I nodded. "Okay. Thanks."
She sniffled, ran her hands under her nose. "Chris?"
I looked back at her. "Huh?"
But her eyes were already lying to me. "Never mind."
She was late.
She had called right when I'd gotten home, right when I walked through the door. Coffee at five, the place around the corner. I was living near our old place, a few blocks away. It was unnerving to walk by it every day.
But I sat alone, watching the rain-splattered windows torture the outside world.
And then the bell over the door rang.
I turned and found her frowning at me.
"I can't stay," she whispered.
I stood up. "Why?"
"Because we can't do this."
I knew exactly what she was saying. I just couldn't get the words to come out.
I shook my head. "Don't be."
She nodded, waiting, wringing her hands. She turned to leave.
She turned back, into my arms, tense at first.
Her hair was still pure silk. "He's a nice guy."
She breathed me in, took me into her lungs. Her eyes were closed. "It was good to see you, Chris."
I watched her walk away for a second time. Into the cold, into the wind, into the storm.
"You, too, Steph."
There were so many memories, more bad than good.
But as she left my life, I only saw her smile.
Because that's the way it always was.
And that's all I wanted to remember.
A/N: I'm telling you, guess! Story with your choice of superstar. Review.