Just Be Happy

[“The Better Man” Warren Kidd]

The world, especially the ever-changing world of professional wrestling rarely afforded Warren Harper the luxury of just existing, yet especially since Dean lost the World Championship to Pax Stormcrow at Legacy, Warren had been unexpectedly gifted much more free time from his obligations to the Imperial Wrestling Federation than he knew what to do with.

Whilst he appreciated no longer being slotted in as a bonus signing for when people paid their money for a World Champion Meet & Greet session with Dean Harper, he also resented being the tag-along, the ‘other’ Harper and the husband of the real star in their relationship. Though it still troubled him deeply, he was beginning to understand why Spike had gone to his grave believing Warren to be unworthy of the name and legacy being a Kane should represent to the entire damn industry.

Warren literally had the lifeblood of this business running through his veins, and rather than being the main event and the global sensation he should be, he had wasted too many years blinded by his infatuation for the utterly broken and burned out husk of a cameraman that Rowan MacDonnough had quite deliberately plucked from obscurity and twisted into the perfect weapon for her grand ambition.

Even before Rowan’s true motives of why this particular cameraman was so important to her personally were fully known and widely understood, Harper had been a lethal cocktail, equal parts blood and honey. But the combination that had once pleasurably intoxicated Warren enough to believe he was worthy of true love now only served to poison him and kill his potential stone dead. Even Pax Stormcrow, an Olympic calibre wrestler thought enough of Dean to publicly endorse him as possibly the greatest homegrown talent that IWF had ever produced. That said it all really.

A year ago, Warren would have brushed off the remark as just something Pax said as part and parcel of putting Dean over as the greatest challenger he had just overcome to capture the top spot finally, but right now it didn’t feel like just an offhand comment in a wrestling promo, it felt like a damned slap to Warren’s face, personal and deliberate.

How fucking dare he?

Warren took a sip of his bitter black coffee and tried to remember why he was here today instead of allowing his insecurities to surface any further. Today wasn’t about his complicated relationship with his husband, it was about finally making time for one of the precious few people left in his life who didn’t make him feel third rate and a spectacularly consistent failure. Since before Legacy Warren had promised Saoirse a coffee, and he had put it off long enough. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be here or that he didn’t enjoy her company, moreso that he didn’t see himself as worthy of her friendship.

Saoirse sat across from him, her seasonal pumpkin spice latte cupped in both hands. She smiled at him warmly and for a moment Warren found himself envious of not only her sense of adventure but also her emotional harmony. Even on his very best day Warren would have struggled to find the courage to try a pumpkin spice latte, much less allow himself to smile.

Warren had never been good at challenging himself, of stepping outside his comfort zone and trying something new. Trying something new came with the inherent risk of failure and tempting fate to absolutely decimate what little remained of his self-confidence already always seemed like utter lunacy. So he sat back, settled in his standard chair with his boring black coffee and thoughts of an almost loveless marriage, safe, secure, unhappy but unchallenged.

“So,” Saoirse began, “How are things at home?”

“Fine,” he lied.

She didn’t really want to know the truth. It was just small talk, an innocuous question asked to be polite and keep the conversation from stalling, Warren knew. She could just as easily have asked him about the weather and if she had he would have been happier to have that discussion than this one.

Saoirse nodded politely. Thankfully she didn’t know him or Dean well enough to force him to elaborate further. She had no reason not to take Warren at face value and that’s why he was here with her and not anybody who knew him better like Shea or Vivienne. Saoirse’s ignorance was Warren’s safety blanket.

“I can’t imagine it’s easy, losing a World Championship before you’ve even had a chance to leave your mark on it,” Saoirse said. “Not that I left much of an impression on the Openweight, I just figured it has got to be ten times worse with a World Championship because the responsibility is ten times greater.”

“Maybe,” Warren said, “But it’s not like it was Dean’s first go around, you know. He’ll bounce back, Blakes always do, they never stay further than spitting distance from their next fill of World Championship gold, especially in IWF.”

“Oh the irony,” Saoirse giggled, sipping her latte, “I used to think the same about the Kanes.”

“Used to?” Warren swallowed more black bitterness from his cup. Fought the instinct to respond harshly to the unintended insult and allow the sting to settle in his gut. Saoirse hadn’t meant anything by it, just as Pax hadn’t meant anything by gassing up Dean Harper.

“Yeah, guess Spike just had a way of selling himself as a bigger deal than he actually was,” Saoirse said. “You, Dawn and Abby seem to have different priorities and seem to actually be trying to live a life outside the wrestling bubble, it’s refreshing.”

“Thank you,” Warren said, quietly amused by how little Saoirse knew of how desperate he was to amass even half of the fame and notoriety of his bastard father. Just to prove a point to the selfish dead git, just to enjoy the satisfaction of knowing Spike had no choice but to look up at him now from whatever pit of hell he was surely burning in.

“Speaking of, you must love having so many of your friends and family back in the company. Shea and Abby returning at Legacy really was amazing, especially Shea, after everything she went through with Will. Gives me hope, no pun intended, that maybe I’ll find myself in a real wrestling ring one day and not just a training one.”

“Honestly, my advice, you shouldn’t rush such an important decision,” Warren said.

“Oh I don’t intend to, don’t worry. Ciara and Shea basically told me the same thing,” Saoirse reassured. “If I return to the professional spotlight one day, it ain’t gonna be until I’m good and ready.”

“Did you know about Shea’s plans to return? I know you guys are close.”

“No, gotta hand it to her, Shea played that one close to her chest.”

“Very close,” Warren sighed, “I had no idea either.”

“Really? Maybe she thought you’d talk her out of it. You’ve always felt protective over her from what I understand.”

“Yeah, maybe. Honestly, I can’t even say if I would have or not. Maybe I’d have tried and failed. I did with Viv and her whole Murder deal, after all,” Warren said. “I’m just glad none of them returned as the newest goons for Rowan. I’ve lost enough friends to that bitch’s twisted machinations.”

“I don’t envy you. Rowan against any of the three of them feels like an inevitability, and if you’re not careful you’ll get caught in the crossfire.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Warren said. “Every time I think I can move on from some of the worst mistakes of my life, Rowan pops back up to remind me just how fucked up I am and always will be. She can never just leave me or the people I care about alone.”

“I’m sorry,” Saoirse said, “I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but I promise it does get better. You just have to have patience and resilience. It can’t possibly rain every day.”

“Unless you’re in Scotland,” Warren laughed. What else could he do? If he didn’t deflect with crap jokes, he’d just end up chronically depressed about where his life seemed to be heading and as inviting as that deep, dark hole sometimes seemed, it never led anywhere good.

“Thanks for this,” Saoirse smiled. “It’s good to have an excuse to get out of the PC.”

“Anytime. I needed this too, honestly.”

“I’ll definitely be taking you up on that. I’ve never had a gay best friend before,” Saoirse teased.

“Best of the best,” Warren smiled.

The two young friends each paused to take a longer and more considered drink. Saoirse was the first to break and resume their conversation. “Don’t get me wrong, the PC is great and a lot better in actually teaching you practical stuff than Tristan’s was, but still it gets rather intense, you know?”

“Tristan’s?” Warren was surprised. He hadn’t thought about Nighthawk’s wrestling school for years, not since Ollie said he was considering it after Spike kicked his then boyfriend out of the IWF PC. He briefly wondered if Ollie had made it. “I had no idea you trained there.”

“Briefly, but yeah. Too many lectures about discipline for my taste, not enough practical advice you can actually use in real world match situations,” Saoirse said.

“That doesn’t surprise me at all,” Warren said. “It’s always been pretty obvious Nighthawk epitomises the definition of ‘Those who can’t do, teach.’”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Don’t suppose you met a guy called Ollie whilst you were there?” Warren tried to sound as casual as he could. He knew he was kicking parts of his heart open that should probably stay closed. He was married now, still the curiosity of what might have been taunted him faintly.

“You’re gonna have to be more specific,” Saoirse said.

“Doesn’t matter. It was a long shot anyway,” Warren finished his coffee. The truth was he couldn’t be more specific even if he wanted to be because all he had left of his ex boyfriend was a face and a first name. He didn’t want to embarrass himself by admitting that to Saoirse, so chose to close his suddenly restless heart up again.

“Suit yourself,” Saoirse shrugged and finished her coffee.

Warren filled the break in conversation with silent curses, beating himself up for still not knowing what he truly wanted out of his life. How did everyone else figure this shit out so fucking easily? Why was he so damned pathetic? It really shouldn’t be this hard to just be happy.

Fuck.