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The silence filling the room is so different from the chaos of the past three weeks.
Jonas didn’t think he would miss it. Miss the sound of the cheers alongside the roads, miss the chatter of his teammates on the bus. The atmosphere at the starting line, the tension during a climb. Tadej’s eyes on him. Always.
And that’s the most painful thing, really. To know that, for a short period of time, he was Tadej’s target. His focal point, his most feared rival, like an extension of himself, always behind him. Never losing sight of him. It was their fourth Tour together and Jonas thought he could get used to it. But every time, it seemed to be even more thrilling than the year before. He couldn’t get enough of this overwhelming feeling, taking control of his body, until his muscles and bones were aching to be close to Tadej, close to the sun, always closer.
It was a bit unhealthy. And maybe that’s why Jonas had not called him back. Not after they met in Italy, back in March, when they had decided to throw any caution to the wind and had ended up in the same bed, naked and sweaty, sharing touches like star-crossed lovers. Not after his crash in Spain, even when Tadej had tried to reach him again and again.
That’s the thing with Tadej. Jonas never knows what’s hiding behind that smile and that attitude. Behind those grey eyes, looking at him like a pray but also like he’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
He knew, somehow, even back in 2021. There was something between them. Bigger than a normal rivalry. But different from a simple friendship. He didn’t want to shake hands with Tadej, he wanted to know his body like his own. He didn’t want to share fake niceties with Tadej, waiting for the stage to begin, trying to fill the silence with an awkward conversation. He wanted to share his deepest fears and hopes and dreams with him, to look into his eyes and lose any track of time. He didn’t want to watch him from afar, laughing and flirting with strangers. He wanted to claim Tadej as his, to bite him hard enough to leave a permanent scar, so that nobody would even think to get close to him.
So, no, Jonas had never been normal about Tadej. And it was kind of inevitable, when the two of them kissed during a warm night in Italy. They couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol. Maybe they were drunk on something else, drunk on lust and years of playing pretend. That night, Jonas had discovered Tadej’s body and had worshipped it with gentle touches and heated kisses. He had felt the Slovenian’s hands on him, burning his skin, leaving bruises, and he had felt so alive. So strong and fragile at the same time. Like he was truly seen, for the first time in his life.
And then Jonas left Italy, and Tadej stayed to race Milano-Sanremo.
In the harsh daylight, things had seemed different. Jonas came to his senses. It was just a one-night thing. A brief moment where they weren’t Jonas Vingegaard and Tadej Pogačar. Something like a bubble, protected from the outside world, where everything is fuzzy and comfortable and warm. Something that could not exist in their reality. Something that could only lead to heartbreak and resentment.
Maybe that’s what Jonas feels, right now. Resentment towards Tadej. The greatest cyclist in the world. Winning everything, every race, from classics to Grand Tours. Because Tadej had not fallen. He did not have to stay in a hospital bed for two weeks. And Jonas knows he’s being childish and bitter, because it’s no one’s fault, and truly, he’s not sure he could handle seeing Tadej hurt on the side of the road. But he can’t help it. He feels tired and miserable and he misses Tadej so damn much. That one is clearly his fault, though.
Because Tadej had tried. He had called and texted him. Had even reached his teammates to make sure Jonas was alright. But Jonas is not a strong man. He’s weak and he was too scared to face Tadej. He knew he would cave in, the minute he sees the Slovenian’s eyes. Knew he wouldn’t be able to hold back. To keep his hands to himself. How could he? Tadej was a dream come true, a drug, tempting but lethal. Because Jonas wanted more. More than just a hook up, more than just whispered sighs in the dark. He wanted to hold Tadej’s hand and go on a date with him and introduce him to his parents. He wanted everything and so much more.
That’s why, in the end, it was better this way. Keeping his distance. Watching Tadej joke with Remco and letting him fly in the mountains. That’s the only thing he could do. The only thing he was allowed to do. It had to be enough.
It would never be enough.
There’s a knock on the door. Jonas barely hears it, his mind still wandering somewhere far, far away. And then there’s another one. And a third. Jonas heavily sighs, prays for the person on the other side of the door to just leave him alone to drown in his misery, then finally gets up from the bed when the knock turns into a banging.
He was ready to face one of his teammates, probably Matteo, trying to coax him into joining them to the nearest club to celebrate the end of the Tour. Jonas had already prepared a definitive “no” on the tip of his tongue, but the word died down when he opened the door to discover Tadej standing in front of him, a fist in the air, ready to bang on the door one more time.
Jonas immediately takes a step back, like the mere sight of Tadej had burned his skin. Maybe he was deep in sleep, dreaming. Maybe the exhaustion made him delirious. Maybe he was more fucked than he thought.
“Tadej”, Jonas breathes, because nothing else comes to his mind. “Jonas”, Tadej looks tired but his eyes are soft and his smile gentle. Jonas wants to bury his face in the crook of his neck.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, sounding a bit rude, but Tadej doesn’t seem to mind.
“You didn’t answer any of my texts. I just... I guess I was worried about you”, Tadej sighs, running a hand through his hair and looking devilishly handsome.
“I’m fine”, Jonas snaps back, and it sounds so hollow. It’s a lie and Tadej is seeing right through it.
“I don’t think you are”, Tadej insists, because that’s what he does. He pushes through, never gives up, doesn’t take “no” for an answer and Jonas is a bit sick of it.
“You don’t know me. And I don’t know why you care so much.” This is not Jonas. Jonas is a nice person. He’s polite and patient. He doesn’t get angry. But there’s something about Tadej looking at him like that, when he should be celebrating his historical win with his friends, with people he cares about.
Tadej doesn’t respond. He just passes by Jonas and makes his way into the room like it’s his. Jonas is about to tell him to go fuck himself when Tadej finally opens his mouth.
“What the fuck is going on with you?”
For a second, Jonas is too stunned to speak. Tadej looks properly mad, now. The little devil sitting on Jonas’ shoulder is quite happy about it. The angel is too busy staring at Tadej’s lips, dreaming of what it felt like to have them pressed against his collarbone.
“Why are you acting like this?” Tadej’s voice is loud in the hotel room. There’s a storm in his eyes, Jonas can almost hear the thunder. “What did I do to make you hate me so much?”
And oh.
There is so much pain in Tadej’s voice. He looks hurt. Jonas struggles to swallow his saliva, a lump forming in his throat.
“I- I don’t hate you”, Jonas struggles to say, his voice sounding so small. He feels small under Tadej’s gaze.
“Then why are you avoiding me? Did you... I mean... You wanted this, right? What we did, in Italy. You looked like you were enjoying it-”
“I did enjoy it, Tadej”, Jonas interrupts him, feeling the blood rushing to his face to the mention of that night.
“I didn’t mean to pressure you into doing something you didn’t want to do”, Tadej just keeps on talking, his arms flying around him.
“Oh my God, Tadej, stop it! I wanted it, all of it, I don’t regret anything”, Jonas admits because it’s true. It was the most beautiful night of his life. Better than any victory, better than any trophy. The memory is forever engraved in his mind, in his soul, in his heart.
Tadej stops pacing. Jonas can’t help but look at him. He’s wearing a white t-shirt and some pair of jeans. His cheeks and nose are a bit red from all those hours spent outdoors. He’s so beautiful it hurts.
“I’m sorry I didn’t answer any of your texts”, Jonas sighs, then goes to sit on the edge of the bed. He closes his eyes, because he’s not strong enough to look at Tadej right now. “I just... I didn’t know how to act after what happened and then I crashed and-”
“I was so fucking scared”, Tadej says, his voice wobbly. Jonas feels the mattress sink next to him, but he keeps his eyes shut. He can’t do this. “I just got home from Spain and I wanted to watch the stage and then I saw you crash and you were not moving. I... I thought you were dead. For a moment, I thought you were gone and I had to rush to the toilets to throw up.”
Jonas opens his eyes to see Tadej, sitting next to him, staring down at his own shaking hands and something breaks in him. He intertwines his fingers with Tadej’s, his thumb drawing soothing circles on the Slovenian’s skin. It’s quiet for a few seconds, maybe a few minutes.
“Nobody was answering me. I learned about your injuries on social media, like everyone else.”
You’re not everyone else, though, Jonas thinks. He can’t remember what happened in great details. The first few days at the hospital are fuzzy memories of doctors trying to explain things to him and needles and his parents freaking out on the phone.
“I thought about you, you know”, Jonas whispers, focusing on the warmth of Tadej’s hand. “When I was laying down in this ditch and I couldn’t move or breathe. And when I woke up at the hospital. It’s weird, don’t you think? I almost died and the first thing that came to my mind when I was able to think properly was our battles on the road. Like it was the only thing keeping me alive, somehow.”
Jonas hears Tadej gasp next to him, feels his hand squeezing his fingers. He had never talked about this with anyone. His crash, the long nights at the hospital. The crying, the cursing, the pain. He had kept everything to himself, because it was easier to grit his teeth than let his feelings out of his chest.
“I could have been there”, Tadej sounds pained. “At the hospital. Then after. I could have helped.”
“Tadej, don’t be ridiculous”, Jonas sighs. “You had Liège and the Giro. Your career is way more important than-”
“Don’t say it. Don’t you dare say it, Jonas.”
Then they look at each other. Grey eyes drowning in blue. Their hands are still intertwined, and Jonas feels like if he lets go, he will die. So he doesn’t. He squeezes tighter and prays for his tears to not fall. Because this situation seems like a fever dream, like something his fucked up brain makes up when he needs a break from real life. And he’s so afraid of waking up.
“What are you really doing here, Tadej?” Jonas finally asks, because the waiting is killing him, the silence is too much and Tadej is there, so close and yet so far. “Why did you call so many times?”
If Tadej wanted to get laid, he could have called anyone. Jonas is sure there are hundreds of people who would be more than happy to help. If Tadej wanted to talk with a friend, then he had many available options. But he had called Jonas. Had showed up at his door at 10pm, the night of his third Tour de France win, and it doesn’t make any sense.
“Because I care about you,” Tadej says like it’s so obvious.
“Tadej, it’s okay. I’m fine. I’m sorry I ghosted you, I didn’t mean to scare you. It was just a lot, you know? But you just won the Tour. You should be out with your teammates, right now,” Jonas reasons. “Look, I really appreciate your concern and I promise we can talk more, if you really want to-”
“No, no. I don’t want to drink or go to a club, I... I want to be here. With you,” Tadej is facing Jonas now, both of his hands holding Jonas’.
“With me? Why?” Jonas frowns, searching for something in Tadej’s eyes. It seems like the Slovenian has been trying to say something for the past few minutes but Jonas’ brain is just not cooperating right now.
“God, you’re so fucking dense sometimes”, Tadej rolls his eyes then kisses Jonas.
It’s brief. It’s sweet. It’s over in just a heartbeat and Jonas almost whines when Tadej leans back to look at him.
“You really had no idea,” Tadej whispers, his eyes scanning every inch of Jonas’ face.
“About what?” Jonas asks, unable to come up with a single thought because Tadej’s lips are so soft and he wants them back right now.
“I’m so fucking in love with you, you dumbass.”
What?
“What?”
“We had sex”, Tadej says like Jonas was not there during that night. “And I told you I loved you. Then I called-”
“What are you talking about?” Jonas gets up from the bed, his heart beating wildly in his chest. “You never said you loved me!”
“Yes, I did. It was in Slovenian, but-”
“Do I look like I speak fucking Slovenian?” Jonas almost screams right now, because what the fuck is going on?!
“I thought you knew!” Tadej gets up too, throwing his arms in the air. “And then you ghosted me.”
“Because I thought it was just a hook up for you and I didn’t want to have my heart broken”, Jonas explains, trying to stay calm despite the heat rising in his body. “It’s called self-preservation.”
“Why on earth would I break your heart?” Tadej looks deeply offended and Jonas can’t help but find it really endearing. But they’re in the middle of an argument, so he doesn’t say anything about it.
“I don’t know, okay? I don’t know anything about having sex with your rival and falling in love with him and then fucking crashing-”
“Wait, wait,” Tadej interrupts him, a deep frown on his face. “You-You love me?”
“Of course I do!” Jonas shouts now, not giving a damn about looking like a crazy person. It’s like his body is finally giving up, his chest too heavy with all those feelings, his mind too clouded by these thoughts, telling him he’s not good enough for someone like Tadej, that he can’t have that, that he’s not allowed to. Well, fuck it. Fuck it because he almost died three months ago and he deserves to have this. He deserves good things and he deserves love.
“Of course I do”, he repeats, softer now, all tension leaving his body. “How could I not?”
They look kind of ridiculous, standing in the middle of the room, looking at each other like they’re meeting for the first time. Jonas was wrong. Tadej knows him. They didn’t talk much until now, but he knows him. They know each other in a way that can’t be explained. And this knowledge is healing something in Jonas’ heart. He’s not alone. Tadej has always been there, by his side. Never leaving him. Never losing sight of him.
“I love you,” Jonas whispers, like it’s the most precious secret he’s ever shared. And maybe it is, really.
All those sleepless nights seem to be vain, right now. The hurt, and the tears, and the fears. The past 21 days, the aching bodies, the sweat and the blood. It doesn’t matter. Not anymore. It’s like Jonas is wearing some type of glasses, helping him see what’s truly important.
Tadej takes a few tentative steps towards Jonas, like he’s afraid to startle him. It’s quiet again. Jonas is back in the bubble, in that peaceful and safe place he shared with Tadej a few months ago. Nothing can hurt him, here. There are no bikes and no ditches and no hospitals. Jonas wants to stay here forever.
Tadej’s hand is warm against his cheek. The skin is calloused from hours spent on the bike but it’s nice. It’s familiar. It’s like coming back home after a dreadful day. It’s everything and so much more.
“Ljubim te.”
And that’s it. That’s what Tadej had said, back in March, in the warm bed. He had said it again and again in Jonas’ ear as they were catching their breaths, still riding the high of their orgasms. At the time, Jonas had not really paid attention, because Tadej’s naked body was pressed against his and it was already a lot to take in.
“You said it,” Jonas can’t help but smile.
“I told you I did,” Tadej breaths against Jonas’ lips, his accent butchering the words and it’s the most beautiful thing Jonas has ever heard.
“Say it again,” Jonas demands, because he can. He knows Tadej will give him what he wants. And he does. He says it, in between kisses, and it sounds like a song, like a chorus that Jonas wants to hear every day of his life.
Then Tadej’s hands are back on his hips, on his waist, and everything starts to make sense again. Jonas briefly wonders how he had been able to breathe properly until now, how he had been able to live his life without Tadej crowding his space. There is so much love in Tadej’s touches, the way he traces Jonas’ new scars with his fingers like he’s holding something special, something worthy.
That’s how Jonas feels when Tadej is in him, grey eyes meeting blue, sweat pearling on his forehead. He feels like he can touch the stars and stand close to the sun without getting burned. Maybe that’s what he had done during all those years of riding next to Tadej. Chasing the sun. Tasting the stars. He feels lucky. He feels so much.
He feels like his heart is so full of Tadej that it doesn’t belong to him anymore. And that’s okay. He would give him his heart, his body and soul, and maybe he’s too dramatic, maybe he’s going crazy, but fuck it. He knows, in that exact moment, as Tadej is whispering his name in the dark of the night, that every poem and every song and every romantic movie on this earth were written about them.
“Jonas?”
“Hm?”
“Don’t ever crash again.”
“You know I can’t promise you that.”
“Then promise me you’ll always do everything you can to come back to be.”
“I promise.”
“Thank you. I love you.”
“I love you too.”