Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
ASHER
Remember this moment, Asher tells himself as he walks down the ramp. Take it all in. Don’t ever forget.
He looks out into the sea of faces, children pressing their bodies against the barricade, hands outstretched.
He hears voices cheering, the roar of a wave in tune to his entrance song, feels the tremble beneath his feet, tries to commit it all to memory.
For what could possibly be the last time, he basks in the dream.
Dreams are weird little things.
For the better half of his life, Asher had a dream. He fixated on it. Chased after it. Devotedly. Doggedly. Feet pounding against the pavement until the soles of his feet split open, blood soaking his socks.
But the thing about dreams is that they can change.
They can take on a different form, a different shape, or a different route.
They can even become something else entirely.
As terrifying as it is, you have to allow dreams to change.
You have to let yourself change with them. And sometimes, you can even let it go.
It’s been a long, difficult year of learning this.
Stepping into the world and watching his childhood wonder vanish.
Growing up and feeling his spine start to bend, losing his confidence and certainty and sense of purpose and not understanding what went wrong.
Learning that the world is more complex than he thought.
It is unfair, brutal, and, more often than not, incredibly bleak.
But there is light too, beautiful in the glimmering pockets that he finds.
That he carves out. Discovering that there is so much about himself that he still doesn’t know but allowing himself the kindness of slowly figuring it out anyway.
Letting himself find joy in rebuilding a purpose for himself.
Knowing that he doesn’t have to be sorry for any of it.
The corners of Asher’s mouth tick upward when a blond-haired boy ducks through the ropes and joins him in the ring before a sold-out TD Garden crowd.
It helps when you have something to believe in. Someone to grow alongside you.
They share a smile, one just for themselves, and Asher wonders—the way he often catches himself wondering—how he ever lived a life not hearing I love you in every small act Caleb does, in every single word, spoken or otherwise. How could he have ever wanted to touch this man in any way but tender?
Inhaling, Asher lifts the mic, and speaks.
“Professional wrestling has always been about telling a story. We were supposed to be doing something different tonight, feeding you a different narrative. But instead, we’re going to tell you ours. We hope you’ll listen.
“When I was seven, my grades were so bad that my mom grounded me. In Asian lingo, this means I failed to get straight As. For a week, I was forced to head home right after school. With all that time and nothing to do, I basically became one with the couch in front of the TV. It was a Friday night after dinner when my life changed—I flipped channels and there she was, flinging herself off a ladder and spinning through the air with an arm wrapped in barbed wire.” Asher pauses, allowing himself to breathe through the nostalgia.
His heart unclenches. “That woman would later become my trainer—Morgana Bate.
“When you’re little, one of the first things you learn is that gravity is the enemy. You’re taught not to jump off tables and chairs. You learn the consequences of those actions the hard way—a busted lip, a sprained ankle, a broken wrist.
“Much to my parents’ chagrin, I fell in love with this business because wrestling taught me otherwise.
It taught me that I can throw myself into the air and learn to land on my feet, that sometimes it’s worth flinging caution to the wind, especially if you believe in something.
It taught me that I can fly, that I can be anyone I want to be: a demon, a dead man, a dragon. Even a prince.
“I was eighteen when I started training at the Performance Center. There was this prince who took the world by storm, who I looked up to day in and day out—quite literally—and . . .” Trailing off, Asher cocks his head, contemplating.
“Actually, that little story will remain ours.” Asher clears his throat.
“Point is, that prince turned out to be cold and cruel, and eventually, I started hating him. Or so I thought.
“I did a lot of growing up this year. I very reluctantly met that prince and learned that he’s just a boy. I might have hated him for a bit—that much is true—but then I fell in love.” Asher’s chuckle echoes around the silent arena. “What can I say? I have a penchant for clichés.
“Personal and professional lines are often blurred in sports entertainment. We think we’re entitled to information that we’re not.
We forget that at the end of the day, beyond the screen exists a human being.
Those actions have consequences. The truth that Management doesn’t want you to know is that Caleb and I have been together since this summer.
“In fact, there are many things that they don’t want you to know.
GEW talks about honoring history, but only the carefully curated version they want you to remember.
They don’t tell you about Darren Young, Pat Patterson, Chris Kanyon, and so many others who came before us.
They don’t want you to remember. They don’t want to tell their stories.
But we’re ready to listen, don’t you think? ”
Asher lowers his mic, squeezing Caleb’s hand as he steps forward.
When Caleb speaks, his voice is of a different cadence.
It’s tentative, unsure, and vulnerable. This is Caleb taking off his crown and finally lowering the walls around his castle.
“I guess it’s only fitting to begin with the last stop on my apology tour.
See, it’s one thing to be a jerk in the ring and another to be one in real life. I let myself become both.
“For years I was made to be your bastard prince. I used every dirty trick in the book: I cheated, I lied, I stole. I took pride in my work, putting on a show for you every Friday night. That was where the acting ended. I was selfish outside of the ring—I wasn’t a safe performer, left right after my matches, didn’t give the rest of the roster the respect they deserved.
I was a nightmare to the backstage crew, to Kayden and her camera guys. Without all of them, there is no me.
“Falling in love with Asher wasn’t an act either. I can’t say I wish it was, but it was tricky navigating that with our careers and people who felt as though they deserved a say in who they wanted us to be, and who we could or couldn’t be with.
“We do it for you—the fans. We put our bodies on the line every day because we see you. We see that our career allows us to not just touch lives but change them too. We do not take that honor lightly. Did you think I’d be here in these ridiculous pants if I didn’t?
“I am not GEW’s first gay wrestler and I will not be the last; Asher isn’t GEW’s first bisexual wrestler and he will not be the last. Kennedy Prichard doesn’t want our stories to be told, but here we are anyway, because we will always be here.
And we will continue to tell them, because once upon a time, I, too, was a lonely, scared child who did not yet know the truth, which is that the love he had to give others was something worth celebrating.
He wasn’t built wrong or broken. He had nothing to be ashamed of.
And even though I didn’t have someone to tell me that, I’ll do everything within my power to make sure that some other kid out there does. ”
At this, Asher joins Caleb in the middle of the ring, their fingers interlocked. He watches Caleb stick out a defiant chin. It’s a new look, but he looks damn good like that. That’s his whole world right there, a moment that will stick with him for the rest of time, no matter what happens.
Over by the announcer table, Maverick Wolff glances down at his phone and flicks two subtle fingers at Asher. A side effect of owning an empire? Prichard’s never felt the need to show up on time to his own productions. But he’s coming. Not much time now.
“Asher and I were a part of something ours and ours alone. Now it isn’t, and that is something we can never get back.
So take it. Take it and run with it. Tell our story, tell your children how we stood here with our shaking hands so they will know that they’re worth fighting for.
That they can be heroes. And to you: years from now, when it is your turn to pick up the baton, remember us.
We see you. We’re one of you. Please keep going.
Don’t you dare listen to anyone who makes you feel like you shouldn’t. ”
At this, the crowd absolutely loses it, and Asher bites back a laugh. They aren’t really all that different. He used to be one of them. At his very core, he still is.
Asher is just opening his mouth to get the crowd going some more when the Titantron above the ring flashes red. A deep bass grinds through his molars.
“That was mighty cute,” Kennedy Prichard says, strolling past the curtains.
“Son of a bitch,” Caleb mutters under his breath. The microphone in his hand has gone dead.
“It’s crazy, isn’t it? The inane stories they come up with these days just to keep their jobs.” Prichard rolls his eyes at the crowd, twirls his index finger by his temple, then turns his attention back to the ring.