Archive of Our Own

• Rules 

Quentin disliked internet. He disliked the acting that was necessary on it once you were even just a little bit famous. He disliked how he had to pretend every time he was on Instagram, every time he was filmed for an interview. He disliked how things were taken out of their context, how anything could go wrong. How no one could control their presence and image on internet. Quentin liked being in control of things in his life. He liked to control his image carefully, to only let people see what he wanted them to see. The side of him that was perfect, in control, without flaws. Still, Quentin knew he needed internet in his professional life, as it gave him opportunity to get sponsoring, so he had never hated internet.  

At least before today.  

Today Quentin hated internet. Well, more precisely maybe he hated one side of internet. A side he had never seen before.  

It all had started when Antonin had barged into his room, holding his open computer with one hand, exclaiming happily that he had found something really funny and interesting. Knowing Antonin, Quentin had excepted something stupid and funny like a goat making weird nose, or some dude falling comically. He hadn’t expected a page full of text, as if it was a novel published on the internet. He especially hadn’t expected for the text to have his name in it, and Emilien’s name too. He looked at the page for a few seconds trying to read a bit of it, and seeing nothing out of the ordinary at first.  

Until he saw the world kiss, and fuck. Repeatedly. Way much more than what should be expected of a text that seemed to be about him and his teammate.

“What am I looking at?” Quentin asked nervously, not sure he wanted to know the answer. Antonin would be crazy enough to create an intricate prank where he would publish (under a false username of course) weird stuff about his teammates. But, he would never put in the effort of actually writing something so long, especially in English.

“That’s a fanfiction” Antonin answered with an amused smile, as if Quentin was supposed to understand what that meant. After a few seconds of silence Antonin spoke again, this time slower, as if he was explaining something to a child.

“A fanfiction is a text written by a fan, about a fictional media. But it is possible to find RPF fanfiction, one about real people like me, or you.” Antonin had spoken slowly, showing another internet page to Quentin. There was a list of “works” there, whatever that meant.

“That is AO3, one of the most popular websites to publish fanfiction. I discovered it when… well, that is not today’s subject, anyway there are a lot of fanfic about you here. Especially fanfictions with Emilien”

Quentin felt his face burn as Antonin went on with his explanation, showing him things, he called tags and ships. Quentin wasn’t sure he understood half of it, and more importantly he wasn’t sure he wanted to understand. There was something weird about the idea of people writing about him and Emilien. He had always known that being known could cause weird stuff to be written or said about someone. Like people commenting about how they wanted him to fuck them, or worst sometimes. But he had never thought people would write such things about him and his teammate.

“I mean, I could understand them writing about wanting Emilien to fuck them. Who wouldn’t like that idea after all…” he thought sincerely, before realizing the weirdness of it.

“Earth to Quentin, are you still with me?” Antonin asked while shoving another fanfiction under his eyes. Quentin pushed the computer away, his face red with something he tried to convince himself was anger.

“Why the fuck would you show me such… weird stuff?” he said a bit too loudly as Antonin took his computer back with a sad sigh. He looked at it for a while, certainly trying to make the computer wasn’t damaged. He then stood again, not answering Quentin as he turned towards the door.

“You know” Antonin started to say while his hand was on the door handle “One could wonder why you reacted that badly to random stories written by people that don’t even know you”

After having said that Antonin left the room as Quentin tried to ignore the subtext of what he just said. “Maybe you reacted badly because you feel like these people know you in a way”

Quentin tried to calm himself, breathing in and out in a regular rhythm. He wasn’t attracted to Emilien. He had never been. When he had joined the team Quentin had set some rules for himself. First, always do your best. Second, always speak your mind. Third, never create strong personal attachment with anyone from the team. That last rule was there because he had a girlfriend that he loved, and that loved him back, and he didn’t want to put that love in jeopardy. But it was also here because Quentin had a secret. A secret that made him create a fourth rule he had never told anyone about.

Fourth, don’t let anyone discover that you are bisexual.

• Anxiety

Winning the World Cup was better than anything else Quentin had ever known. He felt relieved, like all his effort had finally paid off. All the media wanted him, they wanted an interview, a picture, even just a word and Quentin was happy to give them what they want. To drown in the media attention for once, hugging his parents, hugging his girlfriend, his teammates and his friend in the others teams.

Still, he tried to keep his distance from Emilien. Some part of his mind couldn’t help replaying his interaction with Antonin, couldn’t help thinking about the words that had been written about the two of them. Weirdly enough, it felt like someone is always watching the two of them. Like each of their interaction is under the careful surveillance of the person; or persons, he didn’t dare going back to the website to check actually; that had written about them. Each of their touch, their rare hugs, each smile he gave Emilien, they all felt tainted. They only left the taste of disgust and ashes in Quentin’s mouth.

At least, that’s why Quentin tried to convince himself. That the weird taste in his mouth is only disgust and anger. Not anything else. Not anything remotely close to desire or attraction.

The weird feeling in his stomach when Emilien came to congratulate him was only anxiety, a sign of how scared he was of Emilien being sad about him winning. The blush on his face was due to the heat in Norway, not to the closeness of Emilien. His hands were not shivering because he wanted to touch the short stubble that was now Emilien’s hair. Nothing was wrong, nothing was different. As he hugged his girlfriend once again, he tried to convince himself of that.

And maybe he tried to convince himself once again, as his eyes found Emilien’s body way too often while they were partying. He was only watching Emilien because he was looking after him. His teammate was clearly under the influence, and as the sober one tonight he had to look after him. Very closely.

“I’m so happy for you Quentin, you deserve it so much!” Emilien had said many times during the night, his warm breath brushing Quentin’s ear. His hands coming to brush his back, slightly, in a friendly way.

Quentin hated himself because his mind couldn’t help but think of it in a way that was way more than friendly.

“Remember Quentin. Four rules to have a successful career. Don’t let … whatever Antonin had showed you get to your head” he thought to himself as he took his first and last alcohol glass of the night. After all, one glass wouldn’t be enough for him to do anything stupid. Not that he wanted to do anything stupid of course, after all he had a girlfriend that he loved and he wasn’t truly attracted to Emilien. Maybe his weird mind had decided to have a small bisexual panic over Emilien, but it would only be temporary. Soon, everything would be back to normal.

• Advice 

The French championship taught a few things to Quentin. First, no championship should be taken as granted, even when you are the best in the world. Second, there was a lot of talented biathletes in France. Third, everything did not go back to normal.

Quentin had really thought it would. After all him and Emilien hadn’t seen each other for a while, he had no reason to think about the weird things written about them anymore and he suspected that the people writing about them were maybe not French as they were writing in English. If luck was on his side maybe they wouldn’t watch French events and at least he would be able to feel safe here. Especially because Emilien wasn’t even in this championship so they would be no one analyzing them, watching over them waiting for anything that could fuel their obsessive and creepy writings.

All things considered he should have felt relieved that Emilien wasn’t here. Maybe it would calm these people. Maybe it would give him time to go over the small bisexual panic he had been feeling for a while.

But weirdly he didn’t felt relieved at all. He felt like something was missing, a hollow sensation he couldn’t get rid of opening his chest. No matter where he looked at, who he talked to, all he felt was the absence of Emilien. When his girlfriend talked to him after the race all he could wonder about was if Emilien had seen his race. If he had even seen anything with the poor quality of the transmission. Maybe he would have done a better race if Emilien had been here. They always tended to make the other performance better. Well, Quentin liked to think about it that way but it was certainly wrong. Emilien always made Quentin’s performance better. He always pushed him to do better, even when he was the best. Even when he did almost no mistakes, when he had perfect races Emilien was always pushing him, pressuring him to do better, be faster, be better. But he never had that effect on Emilien. Sometimes it even seemed like he did the opposite. Emilien rarely performed well when Quentin did, at least these days.

“Quentin? Is everything fine?” Lydie asked, her voice soft and kind as usual. Sometime Quentin whished there could be something else than this softness there. Something more alive, something like fire, warming but also capable of burning. He hated himself for thinking that. He loved Lydie, and she loved him. She loved him despite his flaws, despite his bisexuality and he had no right to ask for more that that soft and quiet love.

“I’m feeling a bit nauseous I’ll… go put some water on my face I’ll be back soon” he said hoping the disgust he felt for himself could not be seen on his face. He couldn’t understand what was wrong with him since Antonin had show him the stuff written about him. Why was he unable to keep Emilien out of his mind? Despite his bisexuality he had never thought that way about Emilien before, had he?

Maybe he had?

A look that stayed too long on Emilien’s face, on his lips. A hand that touched his hips. A hug shared for a bit too long. Nothing too noticeable, nothing he would have seen and ; hopefully; nothing that could be seen by anyone else. Somehow, he was starting to doubt his own mind. Had he done these things? Had he ever thought about Emilien in a way that was … more than friendly? Was his mind telling him he might have because it was staying stuck on that disturbing idea… or because it actually liked it?

“Are you okay? You’re whiter than the snow outside” Antonin’s interrupted his thoughts, his hand patting Quentin’s shoulder with compassion. A compassion that was perfectly misplaced, knowing that Antonin had caused whatever was plaguing Quentin. But he didn’t know that, and he couldn’t know.

“I’m fine” he answered with a voice he hoped was convincing. Antonin’s face was enough to tell him it wasn’t.

“If that’s the face you have when you’re fine, I clearly don’t want to see you when you are not.”

Quentin gritted his teeth. Antonin really had a talent to be insufferable sometime. Simon usually calmed Antonin’s weird shenanigans but now that he was gone Quentin needed to get used to the idea that Antonin would only be more and more insufferable.

“I just have a lot on my mind” Quentin ended up saying, hoping it would get Antonin off his back. He was waiting for Antonin to offer a witty comeback, to be curious about what he had on his mind but his first answer was a soft smile.

“I think we all have a lot on our minds these months. I… might not be a good listener like Simon, and my advices are not as good as his but with him gone if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here” Antonin’s voice faltered on the word gone, as if he still had a hard time associating it with Simon. Maybe he was having a hard time. After all the two of them had been…close from what Quentin could understand. Sometimes a small voice in his brain whispered to him that they were closer than the rest of the team. Close in a way that no one could know about. Quentin had the confirmation of that closeness when Antonin had barged into the room he shared with Simon when he had announced his retirement. Quentin had left the room, not wanting to impose his presence but all he knew was that Antonin had left a few minutes later, his eyes full of anger and pain. Of grief almost. When he had come back in the room Quentin had found Simon talking on the phone with his girlfriend. His voice was weird, empty despite the lovely words he was saying to the woman he loved. Weirder than that was the fact that his eyes were full of sadness, like they had been after his last race in the Olympics.

“Is Simon retirement what’s on your mind?” Quentin asked without wanting to, and Antonin’s soft smile left his face.

“No, it’s not. Simon left us, I understand his decision and there is no reason for it to stay on my mind” Antonin answered, and in his voice, Quentin could hear he was trying to convince Quentin as much as he was trying to convince himself.

“Sometimes I feel like… like everything is changing. And I’m not sure I like all the changes.” Quentin wasn’t sure why he was telling Antonin, but it felt freeing to put some words on what was his problem.

Because deep down Quentin knew it was the problem. That his feeli…thoughts, his thoughts towards Emilien were changing. That the comfortable and reassuring closet he had locked himself into so many years ago was falling apart around him. Things were changing, and not in a way that was making Quentin feel safe or better. In a way that made him scared and angry because his mind was catching up with him. Reminding him who he was, what he was.

“Maybe you don’t like the changes. But maybe they are better for you? Changing is always hard like…” Antonin stopped for a while, lost in his thoughts. He was trying his best to give a good advice and somehow it made Quentin feel a bit better. Knowing that his teammate, his friend, was trying so hard to help him.

“Think about it like a toxic relationship. You love the person, and yeah maybe deep down they love you. But they only hurt you, manipulate you, take advantage of you. Changing, leaving them is hard and it hurts but… That change is what is best for you, you know?”

“Antonin?” Quentin asked in a whisper, something in his mind telling him that what Antonin was saying was very personal.

“Changing is always hard. But most of the time it’s for the best and… If something is on your mind constantly like that maybe the change is actually just you becoming more yourself.”

Quentin looked at Antonin for a few seconds, trying to take in the advice given by his friend.

“Did I overdo it? Or am I just bad at giving advices?”

“Neither. That was very sensible actually.”

“Surprising I know” Antonin said with a small laugh, breaking the serious mood of the room. Quentin joined him, letting some of the tension leave his shoulders. He wasn’t sure how his thoughts about Emilien were making him more himself, but he felt like Antonin’s advice wasn’t to be ignored. Maybe thinking about it all would be good for him.

“While I’m giving good advice, whatever is on your mind maybe it could be useful to share it with your girlfriend you know. She knows you a lot and she could…help with whatever is on your mind” Antonin said, his eyes weirdly full of understanding. Quentin looked at him, wondering if his friend had guessed what was on his mind. Maybe he had because something quite similar was on his mind too.

Everything made sense suddenly. Antonin’s grief, his closeness with Simon, what had happened when he had announced his retirement, the metaphor he used on toxic love…

“Antonin, were you and Simon a thing?” he wanted to ask but no sound left his mouth. If Antonin and Simon had been a thing; however it had happened; he had no right to ask about it when it clearly still hurt Antonin a lot. Quentin took a step toward Antonin, doing something very unusual as he hugged him strongly. Antonin’s arms came around him and Quentin sensed their share sadness and anger in the hug. At that moment they were the same, their share pain making them closer than they were before. There was something reassuring in the knowledge that he wasn’t alone in that pain, that concern about who he truly was and the way to hide it.

“Maybe one day we won’t have to hide it. Maybe pain will not be the feeling we share, but joy and pride” he thought to himself, almost in a silent prayer.

• Picture 

The landscape was beautiful, the perfect place to take some loving picture between a boyfriend and a girlfriend. That’s what Quentin had thought when he had called the photograph to take these pictures weeks ago after his victory. Such picture would make him likable, break the cold image the public still had of him sometimes. It had seen like a good idea at that time, a good opportunity for his public image and for his relationship. Really, there had been nothing wrong with that idea.

Weeks ago, when his thoughts hadn’t been full of Emilien. When he hadn’t spent many sleepless nights thinking about his life and his bisexuality. But mostly, about his happiness. He stayed awake so many nights wondering if he was truly happy with the way his life was right now. Well, more precisely if he was truly happy with his personal life. His professional one was better than it had ever been before, and he could confidently say he was happy with it for now. But he was unable to use the same word when thinking about his personal life. He felt content at best, fake at worst, and lost most of the time.

“Quentin, can you turn a bit for the picture?” The photographer asked and Quentin shook his head, trying to go back to the present. Lydie looked at him with worry, something that had been happening a lot more these weeks. Quentin was disgusted with himself for making her worry like that. She deserved way better that that. Way better than a boyfriend that was unable to get one of his teammates out of his mind. Way better than a boyfriend that if he was being honest wasn’t even sure he still loved her as much as he did before.

He turned towards the photographer, trying to put a smile on his face. He was the one who had contacted the photographer, and he was the one who had asked Lydie to take picture with him even if she usually disliked being in the spotlight. He couldn’t ruin it, no matter how conflicted he felt. The pictures went on for what felt like hours, but must have been only minutes. When the photographer left Quentin felt more tired than he did after his races. There was something overwhelming about pretending for such a long time in front of a camera. Something Lydie must have felt.

“Are you okay Quentin? You’ve been kinda… different these last months” She asked for what felt like the 100^th times this week. Quentin smiled in what he hoped to be a soft smile and not a sad one. Antonin’s advice was still ringing in his ear, telling him to ask his own girlfriend for advice. Telling him that the changes he felt were maybe good for him. In a way Antonin had told him to be honest about what was on his mind. And maybe it was time for him to be.

“I would like to tell you about something important when we go back home tonight.” He said, his voice faltering with discomfort. Lydie’s hand went on his shoulder, brushing it with care.

“I would verry much like to talk with you about anything that is on your mind. I’m here for that am I not?” she said softly, and Quentin felt like there was some hint of sadness in her voice. Still, her smile was bright and lovely, like it had always been. That was something he admired with Lydie. No matter what happened she always smiled brightly, she was always warm and kind.

“Still, I’m quite afraid that’s something I only admire now. I’m not sure I love it anymore” he thought to himself bitterly, once again hating himself for being unable to be who Lydie deserved.

“Would you like to walk for a bit? I would love to see more of the landscapes and flowers that are around here.” Lydie said while holding out her hand towards him. He took it with hesitation, afraid she was going to feel his doubts and fear through it. But if she did, she said nothing about it. Her hand was just warm, holding him with kindness and care, as if Quentin was something fragile or broken. Like Quentin has held out her hands when she had been sick. It was a familiar contact, and a comforting one even if it was strangely devoid of passion. Lydie walked him around, stopping once in a while to look around her… as if she was trying to remember each part if the landscape, each little thing they were seeing together. She was mostly silent, and Quentin was too for different reason.

Quentin couldn’t explain why but somehow, it felt like it would be the last time they walked around like that. Maybe it was only his weird mind talking, but there was something final about the lovely walk they were sharing. Something important seemed to be happening, but Quentin couldn’t understand what it was, or why it was happening.

• Truth

The evening happened way too fast for Quentin’s liking. He wished he could have walked around forever in that weird mood they had been sharing in the afternoon. But the night was coming, and Quentin had asked to talk about something important. Something he had wanted to avoid for so long but couldn’t seemed to avoid anymore.

As if it was a sign of faith his phone had rang just when they got back home. Quentin had hoped it would be anything or anyone that could get him out of the talk he had announced earlier, but it wasn’t. It was the worst person that could possibly call him right now. When he had answered Emilien’s voice had welcomed him with a quietness and a tiredness that were very unusual in his noisy and lively friend; slash teammate, slash weird obsession Quentin thought to himself silently.

“You now, I’ve seen the pictures you posted with your girlfriend” Emilien said after a few minutes of meaningless small talk. Quentin didn’t really knew how to describe his voice when he said that. It was devoid of anything really, like… like Emilien was empty as he asked that. It was weird really, Emilien was an emotional person, he was never devoid of emotion. Emilien felt sadness, anger, love, passion ;all of the emotions Quentin always desperately wanted to avoid; so deeply, so strongly. There was something unnatural in hearing Emilien’s voice empty like that.

“I almost thought you were going to announced the two of you were to be married” Emilien said always in this new strange voice that Quentin was starting to dislike. Whoever; because Quentin was sure it was a person and not something; had made Emilien so tamed and empty must have done something terrible to him. Something heart-breaking even. Maybe it was Chloé once again, Emilien had almost been broken by her once and maybe she had come back to finish the job. Maybe Quentin could talk about her with the people in charge of their teams. After all, as the winner of the overall he could maybe influence them to…

“Quentin?” Emilien’s voice interrupted his ugly train of thought, and Quentin realised he must have been silent way too long.

“Sorry, I was thinking about something else. I need to go soon, can I call you back tomorrow?” he needed to say. After all, Lydie was already waiting for him in the living room and they really needed to talk before Quentin chose to be a coward again.

“How would that make you feel?” he asked instead with interest.

Emilien didn’t answer at first and Quentin could understand why. His question was stupid, Emilien wouldn’t feel anything specific about Quentin getting married. He would give his congratulation, he would make some joke about “wedding being a coffin and child being the nail closing it” maybe. But he wouldn’t feel anything specific about the idea of Quentin getting married.

“If it makes you happy Quentin.” He said with the same strange voice that Quentin was now hating. There was something weird happening right? That wasn’t how you were supposed to answer to one of your friends asking how you felt about their potential upcoming wedding, right?

“You’re saying that like you don’t believe it would potentially make me happy” Quentin answered with curiosity, his mind desperately trying to understand his whole interaction with Emilien.

“I’m…” Emilien started before stopping for a while, as if he was searching what he truly wanted to say. It was weird to hear Emilien being so hesitant and careful, as if his next words would be the most significant thing he would ever say.

“I just want you to be happy Quentin” Emilien choose to say, but his voice made it clear that there was so much he still wanted to say. Quentin wished he could hear all of it, all the things that were on Emilien’s mind about his happiness and about the rest too. Before Quentin could even answer Emilien had hang up, leaving him befuddled for a few second. He needed to call Emilien again, to ask about whatever was happening in his mind right now. But even if he desperately wanted to understand what had just happened Quentin knew he needed to go back to Lydie before he could decide to avoid their discussion again.

Somehow, he tried to ignore how hearing Emilien’s voice; even so weird and empty; had given him the necessary courage to go to the living room again and sit next to Lydie. He was ready to talk maybe, but he still wasn’t ready to admit the growing influence Emilien had on him, on his well-being and on his motivation.

“How is Emilien doing?” Lydie asked as he sat down, smiling as if she knew something Quentin didn’t.

“He’s weird, but well I think… Wait, did you hear me on the phone?” he asked, wondering how she had known he had been talking to Emilien. It wasn’t like he had told her.

“I didn’t hear you. But your face talks for you, really.” Lydie took a pause, watching his face closely. She stopped on his eyes for a second, watching them like she could read his soul through them.

“You always have different eyes when you speak with Emilien. Or about him. There is something passionate about them.”

Well, that was absolutely scary. The idea that his weird obsession for Emilien could be seen. Especially that it could be seen by his own girlfriend.

“I’m not sure what you mean by that.” He pretended, lowering his eyes so Lydie couldn’t look into them anymore. After all, he was still a coward.

“You’re not sure? I thought it would be the subject of our talk. The fact that you are… different with Emilien.”

On a scale of 1 to 10, how fucked was he?

“You think I’m different with Emilien?” he asked, trying to seem normal and innocent. Not that he wasn’t innocent after all, despite his weird thought he had never done anything more than friendly towards Emilien.

“You’re not only different with him. You are different around him, or even when he is just mentioned. I noticed it during the races in Norway, but I thought it was because of your rivalry so I didn’t think anything of it. At first.”

Quentin would have been heavily reassured if it wasn’t for the “at first” Lydie had just said.

“You seem more passionate when Emilien is mentioned. Happier and… more alive.” Lydie’s voice was soft but there was something sad in it, the same thing that had already been here while they had been talking next to the lake.

“I’m happy.” He said, trying to convince himself that he wasn’t lying. “I have no reason to be unhappy, none at all.”

“It doesn’t mean you have reasons to be truly happy. Do you remember when you told me about your bisexuality? You were afraid I would leave, and I told you that I would always be honest if I wanted to leave.”

“I remember.” Quentin said fondly, because it was still a beautiful memory in his mind. He had been scared of Lydie leaving because he was bisexual, because he loved men as he loved women. Lydie had laughed softly, brushing his cheek lovingly. “I’m not going to leave because you are bisexual Quentin. And don’t worry, if I ever want to leave, you’ll be the first to know” she had said, reassuring him that his sexual orientation could never be the cause of their breakup.

“When I was sick you promised something, remember? That you were not staying with me by pity. That you were only staying because you loved me. That if it ever changed you would tell me.” Lydie’s hand was on his cheek as it had been so many years ago, in a comforting motion that had become rare these last months.

“I’m not sure you have been truthful with me. I’m not sure that you have respected that promise.” She finally said after a few seconds, her hand still on his cheek.

If Quentin was being truthful, he wasn’t sure about it either.

“I’ve been having… conflicting thoughts.” He said, his voice full of shame.

Lydie left out a sigh that rang like a “I had guessed it” in Quentin’s mind.

“Would you like to share these thoughts with me. Maybe it could help.” She answered, and even in that situation her voice was still full of support and affection.

“You really deserve better than that. Better than me.” Quentin said, feeling the guilt overwhelming him for a moment. Lydie only smiled, patting his cheek with an amused affection.

“Life and love aren’t about deserving. I don’t care about what you think I deserve. I care about you, and helping you.”

It was too much. Lydie’s voice was strangely merging with Antonin’s voice, muttering something about honesty, asking advice, and being himself. He needed to stop running away. Antonin had been quite honest with him ;as much as he could possibly be; Lydie had been too. He was the only one that wasn’t being quite honest.

“I’m not sure where to start.” He said sadly, his voice sounding miserable even in his own ears.

“What about the beginning?”

The beginning. It had been the weird website Antonin had showed him.

“Antonin showed me something while we were in Otepää. It was a website called Ao3. It a website where people write fanfiction about popular movies, tv shows and all that.”  

Lydie nodded, letting Quentin know that she was following what he was explaining.

“People do also write fanfiction about sports. Antonin found fanfiction about biathlon. About…people from my team.” He said, hesitating once again to be honest about the beginning of his problem.

“People from your team?” Lydie’s voice made it clear she had guessed about whom the fanfiction had been written. But she wanted him to say it. To be honest. Quentin took a deep breath, getting ready to sink into the abyss.

“I’m not sure there’s only that because I didn’t check back but… Lot of stuff about Emilien and I. Graphic stuff.” Why had he added that last part, it was making it sound like he had read that stuff. Lydie had nodded once again. Quentin could see a faint amused smile on her face, as if she was finding something funny in that situation.

“What did you think about it?”

“At first, I found it weird. Why would people write stuff about Emilien and I. Then…”

Then, I thought that I could understand writing about Emilien but not about me. Because of course anyone would like to imagined being fucked by Emilien or fucking him.

Clearly, he couldn’t say that, but his answer must have been written on his face. Lydie laughed so hard, Quentin was sure he had never heard her laughing that hard before.

“Sorry sorry, I shouldn’t laugh. Then, you realised that the idea of “graphic stuff” with Emilien was quite interesting. Quite attracting?” She said, putting acceptable words on what he had just thought. Quentin nodded before hiding his face with shame.

“Suddenly I couldn’t stop thinking about weird stuff anytime Emilien was close. Then even when he wasn’t here, I still couldn’t stop thinking about it all. About our interactions, our hugs, everything. Emilien was…always on my mind.” Quentin said, his face still hidden in his hands. It was easier being honest when he couldn’t see Lydie.

“Quentin, if I ask you something will you answer honestly?” Lydie asked, her voice more serious than it had been a few minutes before.

“Of course, I would. That’s the least I can do”

“Do you still love me?”

That was the question Quentin had feared the most. Because he was more than unsure about the answer.

“I… like you a lot. I feel a strong affection for you and I want you to be well and happy but…” Quentin couldn’t gather the strength to say anything more. He couldn’t gather the strength to potentially break the heart of the woman he had loved for so long. The woman that had loved him despite all his flaws, despite his absence and his dedication to biathlon.

“But you don’t love me. Not anymore. You know it and… deeply I know it too. I’ve known it for a while. I was just too much of a coward to say anything about it.” Lydie once again seemed to know what he was thinking. And it seemed like she had known it for a while. Quentin felt tears running on his cheek. The truth was out whether he liked it or not. 

“You’re right. I don’t love you anymore.” It hurt to say it but still it was the truth. The hidden truth he had wanted to ignore for so long, trying to hide it under questions and doubts. Lydie’s hand came to take his, making it impossible for Quentin to hide his face.

“Look at me Quentin.” She said, her voice not sounding broken like he had expected but only calm and affectionate. When Quentin looked up, he was no tears on Lydie’s face. Her eyes were sad but she didn’t seem heartbroken. She almost seemed relieved somehow.

“I’m going to stop being a coward. I’ll do what I should have done long ago when I realised you weren’t fully yourself in this relationship, that you weren’t even fully in this relationship anymore. Quentin, we are breaking up.” Lydie’s voice almost broke at the end of her sentence, but she still smiled to him. Quentin knew she was smiling because she wanted him to stop crying, to stop feeling guilty.

“I’m so sorry. Of being unable to love you like I should.”

“Don’t be sorry. You’ve loved me when I needed it the most, when I was alone, scared and almost giving up. You’ve loved me so much, so well, how could I hate you for being honest about your feelings?”

Lydie’s hand clenched his with a strength he had forgotten she had. Sometimes it was easy to forget that she had survived to things worse than a breakup.

“Now do something for me, one last thing to honour our relation. Stop lying to yourself and to others. Stop pretending to be a man you are not. Be truthful, be yourself and please… be proud of it, okay?”

Lydie looked at him a last time before standing up and crossing her arms. She looked at the clock on the wall before speaking again.

“It’s not that late, maybe you could still be honest with someone else.”

It wasn’t that hard to guess who she was talking about. Quentin stood up, coming to hug Lydie. It was the same as it had been this afternoon when they had held hands. A comforting and caring contact, affectionate but devoid of any love or passion. A hug that would be shared between two good friends, but not between two lovers.

Lydie’s actions this afternoon made sense suddenly. How she had been careful, kind. How she had tried to memorize each part of their afternoon together. She had known it would be their last afternoon as a couple. She had wanted to have a good memory of the two of them as a couple before letting Quentin go.  

“Thank you Lydie.” He said, knowing these two words were not enough for everything she had done for him. For her understanding and kindness.

“Don’t thank me, just go. And don’t forget to tell me how it goes. I might not be your girlfriend anymore but I’m still your friend, right?” her hands clenched his back one last time before letting go. Quentin nodded before making his way to the door. He was feeling too much contradicting emotions. He felt sad and guilty, but free and relieved at the same time. He felt like everything was possible, like he could take a new path and chose a different way in life. Maybe the path would hurt, maybe it would bring him more pain and suffering, but maybe he would finally feel like himself.

•  Pride

All things considered it wasn’t that much of a good idea to go knock on the door of one of your teammates when it was almost midnight. A more rational teammate would have told Quentin to come back the next morning.  Thank God Emilien wasn’t the most rational man in his team.

He had opened the door, looked at Quentin’s face. Emilien must have seen the weird mix of panic and confusion that hadn’t left him since his discussion with Lydie because he had let him in without asking any question.

Now Quentin was siting on Emilien’s comfortable sofa, a warm mug of hot chocolate in his hands. He had tried to tell Emilien that it was way to warm outside to be drinking hot chocolate, but Emilien had mumbled something about being a good host and offering a comforting drink. Once again, it wasn’t like he was the most rational man in the team. And it wasn’t like Quentin would say anything, after all he was imposing his presence that late so he could at least drink a hot chocolate if it made Emilien feel like a good host. After giving him his drink Emilien came back to the living room to sit with him. A glass of wine in his hand. Quentin laughed internally.

“I don’t need a comforting drink, so I can drink the wine.” Emilien had said as if he could read Quentin’s mind. An idea that Quentin found both wonderful and scary. Wonderful because if Emilien was capable of reading him that easily it must mean something about their closeness. Scary because it might mean that Emilien was capable of reading Quentin’s thoughts and feelings, including those he wanted to hide.

“I’m sure I’m the one who should be drinking wine” Quentin had mumbled, trying to keep his bad thoughts of his mind. He had come to talk with Emilien, to be honest with him about… whatever the fuck was happening with his mind. He was sure wine would help a lot more than hot chocolate in that situation. And it would certainly bring out Quentin’s honesty.

“I’m not totally sure why you came that late, but I’m sure it means something is terribly wrong and that therefore you shouldn’t be drinking.”

“Then shouldn’t you follow me in the soberness?”

“Nope.” Emilien answered before sipping his wine, something between a smirk and a wince gracing his beautiful face. Something was weird in Emilien’s mood, he was acting like he was expecting Quentin to say something horrible. Which might happen, if being told “I might like you a lot more than I thought and I kinda want to leave everything behind to be with you happily and proudly” by his teammate was something that could be considered horrible. Quentin was sure it would be considered horrible by most biathlete. But a small part of him hoped that Emilien might not see that as a horrible thing. An unexpected one, surely. But a horrible one? Taking into accounts Emilien’s strange reaction to the idea of Quentin getting married to Lydie it was possible that his reaction wouldn’t be that bad, right?

At least Quentin hoped so. Emilien was looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to finally talk. Quentin took a sip of the too warm hot chocolate, choosing that burning his tongue was better than talking.

“Quentin? I’m sure you didn’t only come here for the hot chocolate” Emilien said nicely, trying to get Quentin to talk.

“No, I came here for the hot biathlete” Quentin desperately wanted to answer, but thankfully he still had some sort of self-control.

“It doesn’t make me happy.” Quentin said even if he wasn’t sure Emilien would understand it. After all, it wasn’t like he had any reason to remember each word of the conversation they had shared earlier. Emilien looked at him, his eyes bright like they had been when he had won in Annecy. Or when he had won his two titles in the World Championship. His beautiful eyes were even more beautiful like that, bright and alive like they hadn’t seemed to be for months.

“You’re not talking about the hot chocolate, right?” Emilien said, his voice sounding so full of hope under the layer of humor that Quentin couldn’t help the smile that came to his lips.

“Earlier when I asked how you would feel about me marrying Lydie you answered “if that makes you happy”. It wouldn’t make me happy.”

Emilien finished his glass of wine, his tongue coming to taste his still wet lips. Quentin couldn’t take his eyes off Emilien’s mouth, of the tempting red hue the wine had given it.

“God I truly need to focus.” He mumbled while shaking his head. He wasn’t here to fantasize; again; about Emilien’s lips. Even if they were very tempting.

“Truthfully it wouldn’t make me happy because… being with Lydie doesn’t make me happy. It had done so, before. But these last months I’ve been realizing that…”

That I like you more than I should? More than my girlfriend? That I like the idea of kissing you more than I like kissing my own girlfriend? That I wake up every morning feeling empty, cold and old. Like life has no taste and gives me no real pleasure except for biathlon?

“I’m not in love with Lydie anymore. I haven’t been for a while.” He summarized, trying not to scare Emilien.

“I’m not… not really sure what you are expecting from me Quentin? Are you trying to get advice to love you girlfriend again? You should ask anyone else on the team, I’m bad with girlfriend as you might know.” Emilien’s voice wasn’t as hopeful right now. Maybe Quentin had chosen the wrong thing to say, because Emilien seemed to think that he had drive here that late to ask him advice.

“She is not my girlfriend anymore. We broke up, well she did. I’m not trying to get advice to get her back I’m…fuck” Quentin mumbled before taking his phone out of his pocket. It was a very stupid idea but maybe if starting from the beginning had helped with Lydie it would help with Emilien. Quentin breathed in and out, trying to remember Lydie and Antonin’s advices about honesty, being himself and accepting changes.

“Antonin showed me something months ago…” he started while trying to find the fanfiction website Antonin had showed him. He typed the name, trying to navigate it as best as he could to find what Antonin had called RPF if he remembered right. He had never tried to find these fanfictions before, too afraid of what they might create in him, but now it seemed to be a good way to explain the whole situation to Emilien. After a few seconds he found it, his thumbs pressing the Biathlon RPF section. There was 85 works here, and he quickly found what he was looking for. Over each of the fanfiction there were words and things to describe it. It wasn’t that hard to find one that had “Emilien Jacquelin/Quentin Fillon Maillet” in its description. He showed the website page to Emilien, wondering for a second if it was really the best thing to do. Emilien looked at it for a while, using his thumb to scroll down the page once in a while. He hummed softly before giving the phone back to Quentin.

“Antonin showed you the fanfictions about us.”

Emilien didn’t seem that surprise. Actually, he didn’t seem surprised at all. Like he knew what the fanfiction were, and more important like he knew there was fanfictions about them.

“You don’t seem surprised at all?”

“Because I’m not surprised at all. He showed them to me too, a long time ago.”

That shouldn’t have been that surprising for Quentin. After all, Emilien and Antonin were very close, it made sense that the oldest in their team would have shared his discovery with Emilien. Quentin couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something weird with Antonin showing them both the fanfictions as if… as if he was maybe planning something?

“Antonin you motherfucker.” Emilien said softly, with way more affection than he had ever seen in any insult. Emilien stood up, going into the kitchen for a while. Quentin wasn’t sure if he was supposed to follow him or understand what was happening so he stayed on the sofa, waiting for Emilien to clarify the situation. Emilien came back with an opened bottle of wine and a second glass. He sat down again giving the glass to Quentin before pouring wine in it.

“Emilien?” Quentin simply said, hoping his teammate would see his confusion and explain whatever the fuck he seemed to have understood. Emilien looked at him, his beautiful eyes trying to read into his soul. He was surely trying to see something in Quentin.

“How did you react to the fanfictions?” Emilien ended up saying, his eyes still on Quentin’s face. Quentin was too focused on Emilien’s eyes to even realize that his teammate was coming closer, his hand coming to rest on Quentin’s biceps.

“Badly” Quentin simply said, and Emilien laughed again.

“What kind of bad? The “I’m not gay what is this shit?” bad or the “fuck, the fanfics kinda have good ideas?” bad?”

Quentin almost spit his wine because of the surprise. His face was burning, and he was sure he was even redder than the wine in his glass.

“I’m not gay. I’m bisexual” his mouth answered for him, trying to ignore the internal panic of Quentin. That wasn’t really an answer, was it?

“That’s good to know, so am I.” Emilien said it so simply, like being bisexual wasn’t something wrong or something to hide. He made it sound like it was something simple to say, something he hadn’t been hiding for years with shame. Emilien was surprising him a lot tonight.

“And even if you did not ask, I did think the fanfictions had good ideas. Very tempting ideas.”

Quentin almost choked on his drink. Seemed like Emilien wanted to keep on surprising him, or maybe he was trying to kill him. There was no way he was understanding it wrong, right? Emilien had said the fanfiction about them had good and tempting ideas. Quentin wasn’t imagining it, right? He turned towards Emilien trying to find anything to say. Maybe he should explain how he had felt during these months, how the fanfiction had made him think back to all their interaction. How he had seen them all in a very different way. Emilien smiled as if he was seeing what was going through Quentin’s mind.

“In any good fanfiction that would be the part where you kiss me.” He said with a tempting smirk, moving to be barely a few centimeters away from Quentin’s face.

They were not in a fanfiction. But Quentin could follow any fanfiction’s script if it gave him a kiss with Emilien. He put one of his hands on Emilien’s cheek, caressing it with his unsure and trembling hand. Emilien closed his eyes before closing the distance between their lips. Suddenly, there was nothing on Quentin’s mind. No shame, no fear. No panicked question about what he felt about Emilien. There was only Emilien everywhere, his hands touching Quentin’s shirt like they wanted to go under it, his lips covering his, his scent taking over the weird odor of wine and chocolate that was everywhere in the room. After a few seconds that felt like eternity Emilien broke the kiss, one of his hands coming to caress Quentin’s cheek.

“Is it okay?” Emilien asked as if Quentin was a small, unsure and unexperienced man that had never kissed another man. Which he wasn’t of course. At least not the unexperienced part.

“It’s more than okay.” Quentin said simply before kissing Emilien again. He would have time to tell the other man how much he liked him, or how badly he had wanted him during these last months. Right now, the only thing he wanted was to kiss him over and over again. Kissing Emilien was as addictive as he had thought it would be, it created a fire in Quentin’s body that he had never felt before. A fire that made it felt like everything in his life could burn, but that made him finally feel alive.

Emilien was nowhere to be seen in the overwhelming crowd around them. Quentin had known there would be a lot of people here but Emilien had insisted to come, stating that there was nothing wrong with them being here. Quentin could list at least 12 things wrong with their presence here, but he loved his boyfriend too much to say it aloud.

Emilien appeared again, his hands behind his back like he was trying to hide something from Quentin. Quentin sighed before smiling softly.

“What did you find again?” he said loudly to be heard despite the music and noises around them. Emilien smiled again, holding out two small flags. It wasn’t the regular rainbow-colored flag, the only one that Quentin knew about. This flag had three colors, pink, purple and blue. Emilien seemed oddly proud of holding it.

“It’s our flag!” Emilien screamed, to be heard and because he liked to be noisy. Something that Quentin appreciated a lot in bed, but sometimes less out of it. He should tell Emilien to put the flags where he had found them. It was already a big risk for them to be here, but to be seen with a flag in hand was more than a risk. It was like coming out publicly. Because no matter how Emilien had tried to reassure him there would necessarily be someone here that would recognize them. A journalist maybe, if luck truly wasn’t on their side. He should tell Emilien, really. But Emilien seemed so proud, holding his little flag like he held the French flag on podium. Quentin couldn’t say no to Emilien when he was so proud and cute. Even when he wasn’t proud and cute he couldn’t say no to him actually. He was certainly way to whipped for a man that has been in couple for only a few months.

Emilien held out one of the flags to him, moving it to the rhythm of the music.

“There is a lot of people here. No one will see you don’t worry. And even if they did, what’s the worst they would do? Write fanfictions about it?” Emilien screamed once again and Quentin decided to take the flag. To calm his boyfriend a bit, but also because he had promised not so long ago to be himself. To stop pretending to be someone he wasn’t. It was a hard thing to do, being himself. Emilien took his hand in his with a cheeky smile, moving their joined hands to the rhythm of the music.

“It’s hard being myself, but it’s way easier with you” he thought lovingly before clenching Emilien’s hand. Emilien smiled at him before moving thought the crowd. A crowd where somehow, they belonged.