(FIC..OST) Blue Eyes And A Smile
Kurt Angle/Jeff Jarrett
Blue Eyes And A Smile
The cool night air kissed his cheeks as he pulled the mask from his face. The fabric had pulled away with a sticky suction, a days worth of sweat and tears had nearly fused it to his tanned skin. It felt good to be free of it, if only for a little while. He held it loosely in his hand as he sat upon a grassy hill. The dark blades were damp with dew and they whispered to one another as a breath of air exhaled over the hill. He ran a hand over his bare head, a sigh expelling from his chest. His jewel blue eyes swept over the silhouetted buildingscape of the slumbering city below.
He imaged the offices in the towering skyscrapers all blackened and bedded down for the night. The phones had stopped ringing, the fax machines silenced their buzz, computers were dormant, their daily hum muted. No one was left to ride the elevators, run for coffee, push papers, or call meetings. The only lights left alive in the inner city were the clubs and bars, and the other places of nightlife that would always be dark. There was the alley where a thief lurked with a gun snuggled under his jacket; the corner where a runaway stood under the nicotine glow of a streetlamp, her eye blackened from her pimp, waiting for her next trick and trying to hold back her tear; the filthy bathroom that kids stumble in and out of all night, trying to find a good time sniffing laced cocaine rows from the back of the toilet; that one house on the street where the screaming always comes from, because her husband beats her, and no one will help.
It was those places that he was most familiar with. His job was not the typical nine-to-five desk job. He wore a suit, but not the kind you’d buy a tie for. His job began the moment he’d accepted the responsibility, and there was no time clock-he couldn’t punch out-the shift never ended, at least in his mind. There were too many people that needed him. It was enough to deal with during the hours of broad day light but after the sun goes down, people seem to get meaner, more desperate, more daring, and when the sun rises once more her groggy eyes open to bodies in the gutters, broken hearts, broken homes, broken dreams; all the worlds pain. Sometimes it feels like he can’t do enough, like none of it will ever do any real good: it’s like putting Band-Aides onto a corpse.
The problem is, he can’t stop. He can’t give up. It’s not in his nature, not in his being, not in his DNA to quit. He tries to pull from the faces he sees on the backs of his eyelids when he closes them. Blearily they float before him; Men, women, children, people he’s helped along the way. They’re usually thankful but most of them will forget, and they’ll go on living their lives, and any given person will need to be saved not once, but many times. The human being faces so many possible perils in their day to day existence and most of them never notice. They need someone to save them not once but over and over again, each day. Each new day not one but all of them are in danger of death and he can’t possibly be in every place, in every given situation, for every person, always. There are always going to be those who are lost, those he cannot reach, those who he will fail to rescue from the crumbling world, from other people, from themselves.
He drops his mask between his knees and bows his head. He holds it in his now emptied palm because it feels too impossibly heavy for him to hold up on his own: and they call him a hero.
His tears mingle with the dew drops held precariously on the midnight grass blades. They shuffle as the wind whirls again, the sound of it echoing his silent cry. He’s startled to feel a warm circle embrace him. He recognizes the feels of the encircling arms immediately, and the feel of his lovers chest pressed to his back. Those hands brush over his chest, rising and falling with his tears which had at some point became sobs. Soft lips whisper against his ear, a calming ‘Shhhh’ that seems to be laced with the Southern touch which naturally flavors every inflection that comes from his lover’s mouth, even if it’s only a sigh. The burdened hero wipes his eyes, and with a shaky breath he speaks lowly.
“How’d you know I was here?”
“Ah just knew.”
He sniffled, he didn’t question the response, he leaned back into the comforting embrace and closed his eyes. Those three words could sum up everything he and his lover had always felt for each other and about each other ‘Ah just knew’. It was always enough, there never needed to be an elaboration, and there never really could be. Jeff had once said that it might be some sort of sixth sense that belongs only to true lovers, but Kurt would like to believe that it’s even more personal than that. It only exists between them ‘Ah just knew’.
Those precious lips kissed the side of his neck, and stroked one of his tired shoulders. He wasn’t so tired from heavy lifting, but from not being able to lift enough. He wanted to carry it all. The reality, however, is that all things have their limit, and that underneath a heroes mask, there is only the tired face of a man and his cares.
“Let’s go home, Kurt.”
Jeff stood, and held his hand out to help Kurt up from the grass. Kurt took Jeff’s hand and rose up from the dew and the tears, his eyes silverish under the lunar light and never leaving Jeff’s face. Just seeing Jeff’s familiar features under the kiss of the stars, the slight curve of his lips and the love overflowing his eyes, was enough to make Kurt believe once more that everything would be okay. Their hands remained linked as they made their way down the hill. Under the night sky, a hero’s disguise was left behind in the darkness, staring up at the fingernail curve of the moon.
Some heroes don’t wear masks; some of them just wear blue eyes and a smile.
Blue Eyes And A Smile
The cool night air kissed his cheeks as he pulled the mask from his face. The fabric had pulled away with a sticky suction, a days worth of sweat and tears had nearly fused it to his tanned skin. It felt good to be free of it, if only for a little while. He held it loosely in his hand as he sat upon a grassy hill. The dark blades were damp with dew and they whispered to one another as a breath of air exhaled over the hill. He ran a hand over his bare head, a sigh expelling from his chest. His jewel blue eyes swept over the silhouetted buildingscape of the slumbering city below.
He imaged the offices in the towering skyscrapers all blackened and bedded down for the night. The phones had stopped ringing, the fax machines silenced their buzz, computers were dormant, their daily hum muted. No one was left to ride the elevators, run for coffee, push papers, or call meetings. The only lights left alive in the inner city were the clubs and bars, and the other places of nightlife that would always be dark. There was the alley where a thief lurked with a gun snuggled under his jacket; the corner where a runaway stood under the nicotine glow of a streetlamp, her eye blackened from her pimp, waiting for her next trick and trying to hold back her tear; the filthy bathroom that kids stumble in and out of all night, trying to find a good time sniffing laced cocaine rows from the back of the toilet; that one house on the street where the screaming always comes from, because her husband beats her, and no one will help.
It was those places that he was most familiar with. His job was not the typical nine-to-five desk job. He wore a suit, but not the kind you’d buy a tie for. His job began the moment he’d accepted the responsibility, and there was no time clock-he couldn’t punch out-the shift never ended, at least in his mind. There were too many people that needed him. It was enough to deal with during the hours of broad day light but after the sun goes down, people seem to get meaner, more desperate, more daring, and when the sun rises once more her groggy eyes open to bodies in the gutters, broken hearts, broken homes, broken dreams; all the worlds pain. Sometimes it feels like he can’t do enough, like none of it will ever do any real good: it’s like putting Band-Aides onto a corpse.
The problem is, he can’t stop. He can’t give up. It’s not in his nature, not in his being, not in his DNA to quit. He tries to pull from the faces he sees on the backs of his eyelids when he closes them. Blearily they float before him; Men, women, children, people he’s helped along the way. They’re usually thankful but most of them will forget, and they’ll go on living their lives, and any given person will need to be saved not once, but many times. The human being faces so many possible perils in their day to day existence and most of them never notice. They need someone to save them not once but over and over again, each day. Each new day not one but all of them are in danger of death and he can’t possibly be in every place, in every given situation, for every person, always. There are always going to be those who are lost, those he cannot reach, those who he will fail to rescue from the crumbling world, from other people, from themselves.
He drops his mask between his knees and bows his head. He holds it in his now emptied palm because it feels too impossibly heavy for him to hold up on his own: and they call him a hero.
His tears mingle with the dew drops held precariously on the midnight grass blades. They shuffle as the wind whirls again, the sound of it echoing his silent cry. He’s startled to feel a warm circle embrace him. He recognizes the feels of the encircling arms immediately, and the feel of his lovers chest pressed to his back. Those hands brush over his chest, rising and falling with his tears which had at some point became sobs. Soft lips whisper against his ear, a calming ‘Shhhh’ that seems to be laced with the Southern touch which naturally flavors every inflection that comes from his lover’s mouth, even if it’s only a sigh. The burdened hero wipes his eyes, and with a shaky breath he speaks lowly.
“How’d you know I was here?”
“Ah just knew.”
He sniffled, he didn’t question the response, he leaned back into the comforting embrace and closed his eyes. Those three words could sum up everything he and his lover had always felt for each other and about each other ‘Ah just knew’. It was always enough, there never needed to be an elaboration, and there never really could be. Jeff had once said that it might be some sort of sixth sense that belongs only to true lovers, but Kurt would like to believe that it’s even more personal than that. It only exists between them ‘Ah just knew’.
Those precious lips kissed the side of his neck, and stroked one of his tired shoulders. He wasn’t so tired from heavy lifting, but from not being able to lift enough. He wanted to carry it all. The reality, however, is that all things have their limit, and that underneath a heroes mask, there is only the tired face of a man and his cares.
“Let’s go home, Kurt.”
Jeff stood, and held his hand out to help Kurt up from the grass. Kurt took Jeff’s hand and rose up from the dew and the tears, his eyes silverish under the lunar light and never leaving Jeff’s face. Just seeing Jeff’s familiar features under the kiss of the stars, the slight curve of his lips and the love overflowing his eyes, was enough to make Kurt believe once more that everything would be okay. Their hands remained linked as they made their way down the hill. Under the night sky, a hero’s disguise was left behind in the darkness, staring up at the fingernail curve of the moon.
Some heroes don’t wear masks; some of them just wear blue eyes and a smile.