You Know I'm Such A Fool For You

“You’re not going to his funeral?”

Through the fog of gin, Rob tries to remember the last funeral he attended.

“I haven’t been…”

“Yeah, I know.” Charlotte doesn’t look him in the eyes, drawing hard on his cigarette. “I just figured, you know, maybe you’d go to Cooley’s. It’s not like he really has anyone else.”

He wants to go.

He wants to stand there and let the grief break through his ribs and spill out where everyone can see it. He wants Charlotte to hold him afterward, rub the back of his head, tell him it’s going to be okay even if she doesn’t believe it.

Instead-

“No,” he snorts, “...he doesn’t.”

Two wolves.

The guy that wants to suit up and… the other guy.

The Battle of Two Robs.

The only sound between them is her grinding his cigarette into the ashtray.

He hates that dry, scraping sound.

She never was good at putting them out.

She’s been trying to quit for a month - which means she only smokes his.

“Well,” she says quietly, “I’m here for whatever you need, babe.”

He opens his mouth to speak. Nothing there.

His dry fingertips crinkle the duvet cover.

Rob thinks about Cooley.

Cooley who showed him grace when he didn’t deserve it - introducing him to his son.

Cooley brought Charlotte back into his life.

Charlotte who introduced him to duvet covers and love and everything worthwhile in life.

He thinks about all of the things he’s done wrong in one big, ugly amalgamation.

Like Clayface from the old Batman cartoons.

An ugly mass of regret. Moving and breathing.

Having Finn. Cheating on Charlotte. Not telling Finn. Not telling Cooley he loved him. Losing the Tag Titles. Threatening to skullfuck the Lasagna Boys because they said Chipotle is food.

Sooner or later it catches up with you.

Just ask Cooley.

“I can hear your teeth grinding, babe,” Charlotte whispers, running a hand softly along his jaw line. “Unclench.”

He hadn’t even noticed.

Bad habits you pick up on amphetamines are hard to break.

“Good. Now unclench.”

A searing pain shoots through his jaw as he relaxes it.

How can you be so tense and not even notice it? Is that subconscious or complacency?

“Mhm,” Charlotte purrs, “...now take a deep breath in and hold it.”

Fuck it. Fuck them.

Fuck the Lasagna Boys. Fuck the Whoresmen if him being “2 Belt Rob” for a week wasn’t enough. Fuck the fans.

“And breathe all that bullshit out.”

His hands wrap around her hips.

They’re thicker than he remembers, but he doesn’t mind one bit.

Rob’s type will always be whatever Charlotte is at the time.

“I don’t deserve to,” Rob stares at the wall as he traces the stars on her naked belly.

“What?”

She grasps his chin and softly guides his gaze to hers.

“I, uh, I…” his voice cracks.

Instinctively, he yawns.

It’s an old trick of his - a big yawn to hide the pools forming in his eyes.

But she knows all his tricks.

“What do you mean, babe?”

Her tone is soft.

Rob might not have deserved anyone ever to be soft with him.

That doesn’t mean many were.

“I don’t deserve to go. I wasn’t there for him.”

She studies his face quietly, her hand never leaving his chin.

Not judging - not solving.

Just soaking him in. Being there with him.

“It’s ok you don’t want to go, babe. But it’s not ok to say you don’t deserve to.”

He clears his throat.

“Ok.”

Charlotte studies his face.

“You’re thinking too much again.”

Rob snorts.

“Yeah.”

“About Cooley?”

He shakes his head.

“No.”

Rob stares at the ceiling.

“About the kind of man that shows up… and the kind that doesn’t.”

“What?”

“About… nevermind.”

She laughs, kissing him innocently on the cheek.

“Stop being so dramatic, Rob. You’ve got enough wrinkles.”

Despite his best efforts, he cannot stifle the laughter.

“Did you really threaten to kill The Lasagna Boys over Chipotle?”

His eyebrows perk up.

“Well, yeah.”

“What was the context?”

“I don’t know. We just lost the tag titles and that fucking idiot just kept saying Chipotle clears. What the fuck does that even mean?”

A shared laugh.

“I don’t know, but… wait,” Charlotte squints at him, ”...have you ever had Chipotle, Rob?”

The look on his face is all the confirmation she needs.

“Oh my god, you haven’t - have you?”

“No. Why the fuck would I eat Chipotle? I can’t even say that shit right. Is it chip-pot-leh or chi-pol-teh? I don’t know.”

“It’s just burritos, Rob. Have you ever been in one?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Now Charlotte’s eyebrows raise.

“But you didn’t eat it?”

Rob sighs.

“...those production line places stress me the fuck out. They kept asking me what I wanted next like I was supposed to know and there were all these impatient ass kids behind me so I just left.”

Charlotte playfully slugs him on the arm.

“Jesus Henry, Rob. You got some dumbass pallet scaffold match set up with those two half-wits all because you get anxious?”

“I don’t get fucking anxious. That’s just a bad business model.”

Her eyes roll so far back in her head they almost see her frontal lobe.

“You’re not going to take the match, right?”

“Fucking hell I ain’t. Those boys are going to get what’s coming to them. Who the fuck says something clears? What the fuck does that even mean?”

“This is a growth opportunity.” She smiles.

“Oh yeah?”

“Uh huh. You can kick their asses.”

She pokes his chest.

“But you gotta come get Chipotle with me after.”

I’d follow you to the gates of hell, woman.

“Ok, that’s fair.”

“And if you like it,” she adds sweetly, “you have to tell them you were wrong.”

“Oh fuck that.”

“Hey, do you want to be the man that shows up?”

Rob’s sighs.

That says it all.

“Uh huh. That’s what I thought. Now go get dressed. We’ll say goodbye to Cooley in our own way.”

He runs a finger along her face.

A soft kiss on the mouth.

Then the forehead.

That’s always been their thing.

“I really do love you, woman.”

She smiles at him.

“I know.”