This started out as just a one-shot, but the more I thought about it, I wanted to keep going with it. I think that right now I have about four or maybe five parts in mind to this story, as long as it goes the way I am thinking it will. I've been listening to songs by Stabbing Westward while I've been writing this, there are two songs that I think go with it. One is "What Do I Have To Do". I think it goes with the theme of this story. I have included some of the lyrics.

Spoiler alert: special guest appearance by Chris Jericho in this chapter. Flashbacks are in italics. Okay, here we go. Please let me know what you think!

You make it hard to breathe,

it's as if I'm suffocating.

And when you're next to me,

I can feel your heartbeat through my skin.

It makes me sad to think this could all be for nothing.

I wish there was a way,

a way for you to see inside me.

I've never felt this way about anyone or anything.

It had been a long few weeks for Jon after the night when Punk rejected him. He had thought of the events of that night over and over again in his head. He couldn't help himself, he couldn't help but replay it over in his mind. It was especially bad at night when he tried to find sleep. It just wouldn't come. There was no peace for him, though he tried. He was sure that now he had bags underneath his eyes that could match Punk's own.

Jon imagined Punk, walking around now fine. He probably went on with his everyday life as though nothing was different. Not Jon. Nothing could be the same now. There was no way. Jon hated this rejection, this unwillingness to even attempt to explore what could be between them. It just baffled him. Jon knew down in his heart that the fact that they were so similar would be the thing that made them the most beautiful together. Jon couldn't understand what Punk didn't see here.

Jon would toss and turn in bed at night, not being able to find a way to get comfortable. His body burned and he felt as though some nights he had forgotten how to breathe, suffocating from the pain and the confusion of the word "No" slipping from Punk's lips so many times. And that other word, the one that burned in Jon's mind more and more. "Sorry." Why the fuck had Punk repeated that word so many times that night? Jon didn't believe for a moment that he was sorry.

It got worse when the sleepless nights inevitably turned into days, days where Jon had to see Punk. There was no avoiding it, they would have to see each other at the shows. Jon did his best to avoid him whenever it was possible. Jon was quite sure that Punk knew this, but he was sure that he didn't care.

Punk might as well have spat in his face that night. Jon knew now that these past few years, trying to imagine what it would be like...they had been for nothing. Here Jon had been thinking there was something between them, that their day would come. No. Punk had made it abundantly clear that it could never happen.

The part that got Jon the worst, hurt the most, really, had been the part where Punk told him that he HAD thought of Jon that way, he had entertained the same thoughts Jon had of him, he just refused to act on them. That had to be the part that cut the deepest for Jon. He refused to understand how he could admit to wanting him, how Punk could say he was beautiful, but not allow them to give this any sort of a chance.

Jon sat backstage, minding his own business. He was doing his best that day to put on a brave face, make it look like he had at least slept in the last few days and that he wasn't disappointed in the way his life had been going lately. Jon leaned over in the chair he sat in, lacing up his boots. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone sit beside him, figuring it was Seth. "OH, Fuck no." Jon said as he looked up, seeing it was Punk sitting beside him.

"Jon, I need you to sit here and not freak out and just act like we're having a normal conversation. Please, I need to talk to you. Don't rouse any suspicion. Just sit here and let me talk to you and act normal. And for fuck's sake, try not to have that look on your face." Punk instructed him.

"What look?" Jon asked.

Punk sighed heavily, telling him, "That look like you hate me..." he trailed off as he did, looking at Jon as he did.

Jon frowned, not wanting to look Punk in the face. Punk continued. "Jon, I know I'm not your favorite person right now..."

"No shit." Jon scoffed. "Why should I sit here with you and listen to any more of this?" he asked, folding his hands in his lap. "I think you said enough to make it clear last time we talked. And anyway, I don't have any whiskey in me this time to numb the eventual pain that your words are going to bring me, and I don't feel like taking on this kind of pain sober today."

"Just hear me out." Punk said, putting his hand on Jon's knee. "Then you can get up and walk away, you can curse me, you can punch me square in the face...I don't care. Just let me say what I want to say..."

"Fine." Jon mumbled. "Make it fast."

Punk let out a heavy breath again, this look of relief coming across his face as Jon agreed to listen. Punk had feared that Jon might not even allow him to talk to him. He would have understood. It wasn't like they had ended things on good terms last time they had spoken. Punk knew that he had hurt Jon. He wasn't proud. That was never the intention, to hurt his friend. Punk had to say no, there was no other way. He knew, deep down, that it wouldn't work between them. Punk knew because not that long ago, he was Jon, he knew this pain, and he knew how it felt. He had been in Jon's position not that long ago, and he hoped that by explaining this to Jon, maybe he could ease some of that pain.

"I know how you're feeling. I know exactly what you're feeling, and I know it's not pretty." Punk said, staring at Jon. Jon just watched him out of the corner of his eye as he spoke. He didn't want to look Punk in the eye, he couldn't. Not yet. "I know what you're going through because I've been there, Jon. I've been where you are."

"Oh, yeah? Where is that?" Jon asked. He hated that Punk assumed he understood how this felt for him.

"I've been hurt. I've been rejected by someone I was sure I could have. I know what this pain is. I have felt it. And I know, it fucking hurts. It hurts like hell." Punk continued.

"What does this have to do with me?" Jon asked, confused.

"Last year, last year right before Wrestlemania..." Punk began to explain, having to stop to catch his breath as he spoke. Jon looked over then, looking at Punk's eyes. He saw then something he hadn't seen before. He looked in Punk's eyes, seeing this pained look. He knew that Punk was telling him something that came from a very real place. He knew that it wasn't just Punk trying to bullshit him and make him feel better, sugarcoat things. He was telling the truth. Jon could tell. When Punk was telling you the truth, when he was passionate about what he was saying, he had a different look in his eyes and he didn't blink as he spoke. That was what Jon saw in Punk as Punk continued to talk.

"Last year, I was you. I was you Jon. I was in your position. I was in your shoes." he explained to Jon. "I wanted someone. And they refused me."

Jon took a deep breath. "They must have been insane." he said.

Punk let out a short laugh. "I was you. I was infatuated with someone and I was sure that they would want me. I thought I could have them. I thought they would have me. But, boy...was I wrong. It got to the point where I couldn't take it anymore, I had to tell them. It got to a place where I knew it was now or never. So, I told him, I told him how I felt. And do you know what happened?"

"No. What?" Jon asked, feeling a chill run through him as he began to see the similarities between what Punk was saying and what had happened between the two of them. Jon wasn't stupid. He knew what came next.

"He told me no. He laughed at me. He laughed right in my fucking face, Jon. I felt so small. He laughed at me, told me it could never work between the two of us. See, just like you wanted me, you picked me and I was someone just like you...I had picked someone just like me. And then came the rejection. He told me that we were too much alike to ever work. He told me that we had too many similar qualities to ever be compatible. That if we had a sexual relationship, all it would ever amount to would be a power struggle over dominance. Nobody would ever walk away satisfied. And that I wasn't really his type of man to begin with..." Punk explained.


"Chris, just give it a chance..." Punk said, hating that now his words were beginning to sound more like pleas. He had to do something to keep Chris here, there had to be a way to make him understand how he felt and make him see that this was worth a shot.

"Phil, there is no chance." Jericho reinforced, pulling himself from Punk's grip. "I know that this would never work. Why don't you understand? We are not the type of people who can together have a functioning relationship."

Punk felt a sharp jolt of pain shoot through his body with every word that Chris spoke to him. He stared down at the floor, that was until Chris picked his head up. He cradled Punk's chin in his palm, making Punk look up at him once again as he continued. "Look,'re great. You're a good guy. You're just not for me. You and I both want the same things, I can tell. I want someone who I can dominate. I want someone who submits to me. I want someone who will be my little slut, my little servant. I want someone who is not you. That's not you at all, we both know that. You and I both know that you could never be someone you're not. Besides, I usually go for someone who is different from me...I like to go for the bigger guys. Not someone my size. I like to take the bigger men and then make them submit. It's that much more of a thrill for me. So, you understand what I'm telling you, right?"

"Yeah." Punk lied, he could feel the tears welling up in his eyes and stepped away from Chris, his hand releasing his chin as he moved.

"I'm sorry, kid." Chris said, beginning to walk away. "I'm sorry if I let you down, but that's the way it has to be."

What do I have to do to make you happy?

What do I have to do to make you understand?

What do I have to do to make you want me?

But if I can't make you want me, just tell me, tell me...

Jon squinted, trying to understand. "So...why are you telling me all of this?" he asked.

"I wanted to tell you that I can relate to you. I know what you're going through. I understand." Punk said.

Jon scoffed. "You understand." he said coldly.

Punk frowned. "I do, whether you think so or not." he said. "I was hoping that by telling you all of this that maybe then I could make you understand why I told you no. I like to think that I let you down a little more gently than he did to me. I wish that it had been easier for me, and I'm trying to make it easier for you."

"So, let me get this straight?" Jon asked him, beginning to feel the anger build up more and more as they spoke. "You wanted to tell me your little story here, and I don't think you did it at all to make me understand anything. I think you did it to make yourself feel better."

Punk looked down at the floor. He shook his head. This was not going the way he had hoped it would. "No, that's not it." Punk mumbled towards the floor.

"Oh, I think it is. I think you feel guilty about rejecting me and now you're going to tell me your little bullshit sob story about someone who didn't want you to make yourself feel better. Maybe take the focus off of me and try to make me feel sorry for you, turn things around on me?" Jon asked, sitting up more in his chair now.

Punk shook his head. "No. It's not for selfish reasons at all, Jon." Punk did feel badly about what had happened between them that night at the bar, there was no denying it. He didn't like the fact that he knew he had hurt Jon. But he wasn't just doing this for himself. He was doing it for the both of them. Why couldn't Jon understand that?

"You're trying to make this easier for me? Easier for me?" Jon asked him. "You know what, I don't believe that for a second. I think you just feel guilty and you're sitting here talking to me just to make yourself feel better about what you did to me that night. It's not going to work that way." Jon continued, standing up now. He leaned in to Punk, talking close to his face now. "You know what would make this easier on me? DON'T FUCKING TALK TO ME ABOUT IT EVER AGAIN. I'm not you and you're not Jericho." Jon whispered hard against Punk's ear, hoping the message would get across. He stormed away, trying to find a quiet place to go where he would be alone to collect his thoughts until it was showtime.

I know exactly what you're thinking,

But I swear this time I will not let you down.

I'm not as selfish as I used to be.

That was a part of me that never made me proud.

Right now I think I would try anything .

Anything at all to keep you satisfied...

After The Shield did their run-in for the night, Jon hung around in the back, watching the rest of the show from the shadows. He watched as Punk came out, watching every move he made on his way to the ring. He thought over and over again about what they had talked about earlier. Jon began to feel more and more regret as he stood there watching Punk in the ring.

What if Punk had been telling the truth? What if he wasn't just trying to make himself feel better about their situation like Jon had accused him of? Jon knew that he probably had been genuine in his attempt to relate, but Jon's automatic defense was to argue. To fight. To turn things around on the other person and then leave.

Jon began to feel bad, and the more he thought about what Punk had said, the more he did understand him. Punk had been in his shoes, he knew that now. And in telling him this, he really was hoping that Jon would relate to him. He was just trying to apply his experience to this. Jon had to admit, from the story Punk told, he had been let down much more easily than Punk had. He guessed he had that to be thankful for, at least.

Jon didn't know why, but he felt this strange urge to apologize. That was something that didn't happen very often, not coming from Jon. He had given out only a select few apologies in his day. He thought of Punk sitting there beside him, trying to explain his actions to Jon. He thought of how Punk must have felt, he was sure that the conversation had taken a turn that Punk hadn't expected it to. Jon thought long and hard about all of this, and he knew what he had to do.

God, I hope you see,

What losing you would do to me. All I want is one more chance, tell me.

What do I have to do to make you happy?

What do I have to do to make you understand?

What do I have to do to make you want me?

But if I can't make you want me,

just tell me, tell me...

Jon waited outside by Punk's rental car, the cold air slowly seeping in and chilling him to the bone. He pulled his hood up over his head and waited. He saw him finally, that familiar figure walking out towards his car.

"Jon, what are you doing?" Punk asked. "I thought you said you didn't want to talk anymore..."

"I'm sorry." Jon said softly.

"What did you say?" Punk asked, shocked.

"I said I was sorry. Just like you told me that night." Jon repeated. Jon looked all around him to make sure there was nobody else around and then made his move. He pressed Punk against his car and began. "Look, I said I was sorry, you said you were sorry. But I don't think there's really anything to be sorry for. I think we're both missing the point here."

Punk looked up at Jon, a confused look across his face. "I listened to you, now you hear me out." Jon asked of him. Punk nodded his head.

"I know you have your reasons. I get it. You got hurt. You got rejected. You didn't get what you wanted. You didn't get who you wanted. I see it. I understand. But like I told you, I'm not you and you're not him." Jon said, hoping that he would be able to find the right words to make Jon comply with what he was asking of him. "You're Phil. I'm Jon. We're two completely different people. I know you think we're too similar to ever be able to make it, but you're wrong. You're wrong and I know it. You haven't thought about this the way that I have. I think you and I would be perfect for each other."

"Jon..." Punk began in protest, but Jon wouldn't let him. He pressed his body against Punk's, pressed his fingers to Punk's lips.
"Shh. Just let me talk. I want you to do something for me. I can only ask this of you, and hope that you will do it. What can it hurt?" Jon asked, reaching in his pocket. "I'm going to give you this card." he said, placing a room card in Punk's palm. "And I want you to use it. See that hotel over there across the street?" Jon asked as he pointed. Punk nodded. "It's there. I want you to come there. I want you to come to my room. I want you to give me just one night, just one chance. That's all I ask of you Phil. Please."

Punk sighed. He couldn't believe Jon was asking this of him. "Give me just tonight. Just this one night. And if, after still don't think it will work. If you don't think we can do this...if you don't want to see me again...if you don't feel the same way I do..." Jon paused then, getting choked up at the thought. "...then we turn around, we part ways. We end it. We don't play this game ever again. And that's it. But you have to give it a chance, just give it a fucking chance, Phil." Punk looked up at Jon once more, the look in those blue eyes was pleading with Punk 'Please'.

"Isn't that what you would have wanted him to give you?" Jon asked. Punk shook his head then, looking down. "I know it is, I know you must have said the same things to him that I've said to you, didn't you?"

Punk bit his lip, looking at Jon. "Yeah."

"So give me what he wouldn't give you. Just one night. One opportunity. We owe it to each other." Jon continued. Jon looked at Punk's face. He could see the mess of emotions he had brought up displayed across Punk's face. Jon hoped he had said enough to convince him. Jon held Punk's face in his hand and kissed him, instinctively feeling their bodies meld together as they did. He knew Punk was dying to know what this could be like, he was sure. "Do it for me, but more than anything else..." Jon whispered as he broke their kiss, " it for yourself."

Jon broke their embrace and began walking away. Punk stood there, watching him. Punk didn't know what to do. He wanted to follow Jon, he wanted to accept his offer. But he didn't know if it was the right thing to do. The last thing Punk wanted to do now was anything that would further hurt either one of them. "So give me what he wouldn't give you. Just one night. One opportunity. We owe it to each other." Jon's words haunted him. Maybe he was right...

What do I have to do to make you want me?

What do I have to do to make you understand?

What do I have to do to make you love me?

But if I can't make you love me,

just tell me,

What do I have to do to forget about you?