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The end of the Giro d’Italia should have felt like a triumph for Tadej. He’d fought through every brutal stage, climbed mountain after mountain, and pushed himself beyond exhaustion. But standing on the podium, trophy in hand, he felt nothing like a champion.
His thoughts weren’t on the race. They were thousands of miles away — with Jonas.
Jonas, who’d gone down hard in the Basque Country. Jonas, who’d broken his collarbone, cracked ribs, punctured a lung. Jonas, who’d been lying in a hospital bed while Tadej was stuck in race prep, helpless, unable to do anything but check updates and wait.
The moment his post-race duties were done — the interviews, the ceremonies, the forced smiles — Tadej was on his phone, booking the first flight out. He left the celebration behind without looking back.
The flight felt endless. Every minute dragged. He’d seen photos, heard from Jonas’s doctors, even gotten updates from Visma LAB, who thankfully listed him as next of kin now. But none of it had eased the knot in his chest. He needed to see Jonas. To touch him. To know he was real.
When he finally got home, his hands were shaking as he unlocked the door. The house felt too quiet — a silence that made his stomach twist. He moved quickly down the hallway, heart pounding.
He found Jonas in bed, propped up with pillows, arm in a sling, chest wrapped in bandages. Still healing. Still hurting. But alive.
When Jonas looked up and saw him, his face lit up in a way that nearly knocked the breath out of Tadej’s lungs.
“Tadej,” he said, voice soft and worn but full of something warmer — relief.
Tadej dropped to his knees at the bedside without saying a word. He reached for Jonas’s face, just needing to feel him, to ground himself in the warmth of his skin. And then he kissed him — gently, desperately.
“I’m here,” Jonas whispered, placing his good hand over Tadej’s, his thumb brushing lightly across his knuckles. “I’m okay.”
But Tadej couldn’t speak. He pressed his forehead against Jonas’s, his breaths shaky. “I was so damn scared,” he finally managed, his voice breaking. “I should’ve been here. I should’ve—”
“Min elskede,” Jonas interrupted softly, gently. “You were where you had to be. None of this was your fault.”
Tadej shook his head, guilt tightening in his throat. “But I promised to take care of you. To be there. And you were alone and hurt, and I wasn’t—” He stopped, eyes falling to the bandages on Jonas’s chest.
Jonas shifted slightly, wincing. “Look at me,” he said, voice steady despite the pain. “I’m here. I’m healing. And you’re here now. That’s what matters.”
Tadej nodded, barely, but the guilt didn’t go away. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to Jonas’s shoulder, just above the gauze. Then another, to the unbandaged skin. His lips moved gently, like a prayer, across Jonas’s chest and collarbone — as if he could kiss away the pain, the fear, the weeks they’d spent apart.
“I need this,” Tadej whispered against his skin. “I need to feel you. To know you’re really here.”
Jonas’s fingers tangled gently in his hair, grounding them both. “I’m here,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
Tadej kept kissing him — slow, reverent touches. When his lips brushed over one of the healing scars, Jonas inhaled sharply, his whole body shivering.
“You don’t have to be that gentle,” Jonas said, breath hitching. “I want to feel it, Tadej. I need to feel alive.”
Tadej paused, searching Jonas’s face. The look he found there — raw, aching, real — said everything. So he didn’t hold back. His kisses deepened, lips tracing the lines of every scar, every bruise that marked the battle Jonas had fought. His hands followed, firm but careful, grounding them both in the reality of each other.
Jonas trembled beneath him, tears in his eyes but a quiet strength in his voice. He let out a shaky breath, and for the first time in what felt like forever, his body started to let go of the fear.
When Tadej finally pulled back, they were both breathless. He reached up and wiped the tears from Jonas’s cheeks with the back of his thumb.
“I’m alive,” Jonas said again, barely above a whisper. “I’m here.”
Tadej nodded and kissed him — slow and deep — just needing that closeness, needing to feel him.
They stayed that way for a long time. Wrapped in each other. Saying nothing. Holding everything.
Later that night, they lay in bed together. Tadej insisted on holding Jonas, gently cradling him in his arms, his body curled protectively around the one person he couldn’t bear to lose. Jonas’s head rested on his chest, his ear pressed to the soft, steady rhythm of Tadej’s heartbeat.
But sleep wouldn’t come.
Every time Tadej closed his eyes, he saw the crash. Felt the gut-punch of fear all over again. He opened his eyes with a jolt, heart racing.
Jonas stirred, looking up. “You’re not sleeping,” he murmured.
Tadej exhaled slowly. “I keep seeing it,” he admitted. “The crash. Over and over. I can’t stop.”
Jonas reached up, tracing a slow line across his cheek. “I’ve had the nightmares too,” he said softly. “But you know what helps?”
Tadej looked down at him. “What?”
“You,” Jonas said, voice trembling. “Just knowing you’re here. That I’m not alone. It makes it easier.”
Tadej’s chest ached, full of so much love it almost hurt. He kissed Jonas’s forehead. “I feel the same. When we’re together… everything feels better.”
Jonas closed his eyes at the touch, leaning into it. “Then stay with me. Don’t sleep in the other room. Don’t pull away because you’re afraid you’ll hurt me. Just… be here. Please.”
Tadej tightened his hold around him, pressing another kiss to his temple. “I’m not going anywhere,” he promised. “We’ll face it all — the nightmares, the pain — together. I’m with you.”
Jonas smiled, small and tired but real. He snuggled closer, his body finally relaxing into Tadej’s arms. And slowly, the tension began to melt from both of them.
That night, sleep finally came. Not perfectly. Not all at once. But peacefully. With the sound of the ocean outside and the steady warmth of each other, they found something close to healing.
They found it in love. And in each other.