I lean against the doorframe of our hotel room.  "You just gonna pout over there all night, or are we actually gonna have a conversation?"

Michael glances up at me.  "Oh, Pete, you're back." He looks back down at the magazine he had been reading.  "I'm not pouting and I really don't feel like talking.  Can we just sleep?" He's sitting on the bed farthest from the door, the one we've never ended up using before.  I can tell he was just trying to get as far from me as possible.

I sigh, trying to show him that I don't buy his detachment act.  "We could, except I know you aren't gonna sleep, you're gonna wait till I nod off and start crying your little eyes out."  I cross to the other side of the room, sitting down next to Michael.  "So no, we aren't going to sleep, you're gonna talk to me."

I can see him trying to ignore me, trying to pretend that this is just any normal night and I am just his co-worker, barely even a friend.  "Not much left to discuss."

I snort with laughter.  Christ kid, if you're going to pull the 'I don't care' act, at least make in convincing.  "Like hell there's not."  I fold my arms over my chest and settle my weight down harder on the bed.  "Look, I'm not spending my last night with you in the other bed, so you'd better open up or learn to sleep around me."

Michael drops the magazine, and I can see the hurt in his eyes for the first time tonight.  "So you admit it.  It's our last night."

I smile weakly at him.  I had expected anger, but nothing as deep as what I saw in him.  "Well, right now, yeah, that's what it looks like."  I rub my temple, trying to drive away the headache I can feel coming.  Wasn't this supposed to be a happy day?  "I don't know, not everything is decided yet."

He laughs bitterly, and for a moment, I realize he never made that sound before I met him. "Smackdown tapes tomorrow and things still aren't decided?"

I shrug.  "They're all drunk.  They're happy.  A lot of them are seeing their old flames for the first time since ECW broke up.  They want to celebrate.  It'll get worked out in time."

He blinks at me.  "Why aren't you celebrating with them?"

"Because I wanted to be with you."  I admit this quietly, like I'm ashamed.

He opens his mouth to speak, then apparently thinks about it and pauses. "I'm tired.  Really.  Can we just sleep?"  The look in his eyes turned to pleading.  "I'm ok, I am, I'm just being selfish and I'll get over it, just let me get some sleep..."

Ok, where the fuck did that come from?  "Selfish?  I don't follow you, Coleslaw."

He takes a deep, shaky breath.  "You deserve to be with your friends, you deserve to...to be somewhere where you can wrestle, not announce."  He smiles, the fakest thing I've ever seen.  "You deserve a wonderful career and you should go for it."

I raise an eyebrow.  "But?  I'm sensing a but here."

Michael looks down.  "I just don't know where that leaves me.  With you and Heyman gone, I'll probably end up paired with Kevin Kelly again for announcing, and that's not what I really want to be doing.  Not after getting to work with you."

Fuck.  I hadn't thought of that.  Of course he was worried about his career, I would be too.  But somehow, I don't get the feeling he's telling me everything.  "That's not all, is it?"

His eyes meet mine, and I can almost feel his frustration.  "Dammit, what do you think?  Of course that's not all!"  He's yelling, but trying to keep his voice down, so he sounds hoarse, weak.  "You just joined with WCW, Pete.  That means you're going to be on a totally different schedule than me."  Now I see the tears start falling.  "I don't have a traveling partner anymore, I don't have anyone to share a room with anymore, I don't have anyone that gives a damn about me anymore because that was all you."  His voice breaks and he starts to sob.  "You are the ONLY person here who ever loved me and now you're going to be totally gone by tomorrow."

Dammit.  Dammit all to hell.  I hold him to me, letting him rest his head against my chest.  "Shh...hey, come on.  I love you, you know that.  I don't show it the way I should, but I do."  I never expected to feel so goddamn guilty for this.  "Come on, don't cry, don't get like this, not over me..."

He pulls his head off my chest, and this time there is no quiet in his shout.  "Don't you get it?  Why not over you?  I love you, I feel more for you than I ever thought I could feel and you're going away!  So why can't I cry over you?"

I pull his head back down, kissing the top.  At this point, I'll say whatever he wants if he just stops breaking my heart with the damn tears.  "You're right.  You have every right to be upset.  But stop jumping to so many conclusions.  It's gonna be ok, it really is."

His body shakes as it presses against me, and he sounds so broken.  "You don't know that."

"No, no I don't.  But I believe it."  I breathe deeply, trying to calm myself, and him, down.  "I seem to remember it was a certain little announcer who taught me about believing, about giving optimism a shot."

He twists a bit in my arms, but his sobs are slowing down.  "It's just not fair."

Once again, I'm lost.  "What, the invasion thing?"

"No, something else."    He sighs. "It's stupid.  You'd laugh."

"So what else would be new..." I feel him shake more and I regret my attempt at humor.  "Ok, ok, I promise, I will not laugh.  Now talk to me."

He gently pulls out of my arms, and I allow him the space.  "When I was younger...back in high school, no one ever really liked me.  Big surprise, right?  And I used to get so upset, and I thought that I was never going to find anyone.  But my mom always told me that I was going to find someone one day, someone who would love me and who I would love, who would accept me and make all of my fears go away."  He looks down.   "She left out the part about this miracle person leaving me."

I wrap my arms around him again.  "I'm not leaving YOU.  I'm always gonna be with you.  This is not the end of it, not by a long shot.  You and me, that's the kind of thing that doesn't go away just cuz we aren't together."

He looks up at me.  "If you're gone, who's gonna protect me from people like Austin?"

I have to try to be funny again, it's the only way I know to get out of this mess.  "Well, it seems to me that I got you in a lot of trouble.  Your mom probably hates me, thinks I'm leading you down a dark path.  You probably won't need protection now."

Thank God, it works.  Michel giggles, a bit unstably, but it's still laughter.  "Who will make me laugh like this?"

I smile, for real this time.  "You'll have to provide your own entertainment.  Here, wait...."  I got up, opened my bag, and grabbed a few items.  Returning, I dumped them in Michael's lap.  "Here, take my hat, my sunglasses...now, you be the color commentator, and if they stick you with Kelly, you just do what I used to do to you, and you'll have all kinds of fun."

Now he's laughing harder, grinning.  He relaxes against me.  But it's over all too soon and he lets out a small sigh.  "It won't be the same."

I tighten my hold.  "Nothing ever is.  Now come on, relax.  We'll make this work.  Heyman feels guilty about leaving you to Austin that one time, maybe I can get some swing with him, get our schedules to sorta line up.  We can fake injuries at the same time and go on vacations together, ok?"

He yawns.  "Yeah.  Ok."

It isn't much longer before he falls asleep against me.  I press a kiss to his forehead, and only then, with his chest rising and falling against mine, do I let myself wonder just how the hell I was going to make this work.