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Jannik felt like he had been hit by a bus.
And, well, he might as well have been, considering the speed in which Carlos was hitting that god forsaken yellow ball.
Carlos.
Fuck.
He felt like shit, not only had he ruined it for himself, pushing himself to his limit and having to retire, 20 minutes into the game, he didn’t think about Carlos, his first time winning Cincinnati, because Jannik retired. In the first set.
He doesn’t know if he would’ve won if he was playing to his best ability, and frankly, he doesn’t care. He can’t think about what could have been, only what is. He feels like he’s floating at the moment, his head leaned back against the wall. His head is pounding and he’s sweating, contributed by the fact that he did just play 5 games of tennis, it’s sweltering hot in Ohio and also because he most definitely has a fever.
Thankfully, all the media bullshit and press conferences are over, after his chat with Darren and Simone —in which they did their best to comfort him, which only partly worked— he was left to his own devices, which was him sat on the floor of a dimly lit room.
He felt like shit, to say the least.
He felt like he was coming down from a sugar high, after all the excitements of his birthday and the semi-final with Terence all coming crashing down to this moment. He felt like he had gotten whiplash.
He was stupid, so stupid. To think he could’ve gone out there and actually play a final in his state? Against Carlos of all people? Yeah, he was a right idiot. He almost bageled him for fucks sake. He most certainly would have if Jannik hadn’t retired.
Carlos didn’t deserve this. He deserved a real match, not some bullshit match that was like playing against a sickly child. He wanted to give him real tennis, passionate tennis. Their tennis. The tennis everyone comes to see where the stakes are high and nobody knows which way it’s going to go. The kind of tennis he fell in love with, that gets his heart racing, for more than one reason. Just the sight of Carlos on the other side of that net could make his heart skip a beat. It was exhilarating playing against him, he felt understood when he played him, he felt wanted, cherished, because he knows that he’s the only one who can give Carlos the satisfaction of a fucking good match. And today he couldn’t. Couldn’t give Carlos what he wanted.
He feels like a failure. A massive let down. He doesn’t know how many times he’s said ‘sorry’ in the past 2 hours and frankly, he doesn’t think he’s said it enough. He is sorry. Sorry for himself, for letting everyone down, for letting himself down, for retiring, for even stepping onto the fucking court.
He scoffs.
Some world number one I am.
“Idiot.” he mumbles.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid.” he mumbles again because it hurts just to talk.
He drags his fingers through his damp hair and takes a deep breath. His chest rattles with a terrible sound. He should probably leave, get back to his hotel room and finally get some fucking rest. Five more minutes he thinks, as the thought of even getting off the floor makes him queasy.
Before he can hype himself up to actually drag his ass off the floor, the door swings open, which makes him jump out of his skin and simultaneously give him vertigo. He doesn’t even want to see who it is, but forces his head upward to look ahead of him.
He instantly regrets it.
Standing right before him, is his worst nightmare.
Okay, that’s definitely an exaggeration, but right now it feels like he’s fallen into some freaky, terrifying dream and this is the climax.
What —or, he should probably say, who— is standing before him, is none other than Carlos Alcaraz.
Of-fucking-course
He’s breathing heavily—did he fucking sprint here or something?— but before he can ask, Carlos speaks.
“I came as soon as I could.” he swallows.
“Get out.” Jannik doesn’t want to look at him.
“What?” Carlos seems genuinely confused, as if puzzled by the thought that Jannik doesn’t want to see him right now.
“Go, Carlos,” Jannik swallows, “please.”
“But I-“ he cuts himself off, “I ran all the way here, I- I had to see you Jan-“ he sighs.
“Carlos.” Jannik warns “Please, just g-“ but before he can finish his sentence, he’s interrupted.
“No.” Carlos says, with echoing finality.
“Carlos, not right n-“ Jannik is interrupted yet again.
“No Jannik.” Carlos walks over to his corner of the room but Jannik flinches and closes into himself.
Carlos sits himself on the ground next to Jannik, but still facing him, mirroring his position.
“Needed to see if you were okay, I guess.” Carlos shrugs.
“Do I look like I’m okay?” Jannik flinches at his own words.
“Okay, I’m sorry, that was a stupid question.” Carlos grimaces.
“No, I’m sorry, I’m just…not okay, I guess.” he wipes the sweat from his brow with the back of his sleeve.
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry”
They both pause. Normally, under any other circumstances, that would get a chuckle out of both of them. Always so in sync. But right now nothing is funny. Jannik speaks first.
“What are you sorry for?” He finally looks at Carlos, he’s worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.
“For pushing you too hard.” Carlos looks like a kicked puppy.
Jannik laughs in disbelief, even if it did pain him.
“Carlos. You can’t be serious. I retired, I chose to stop. You didn’t do anything, you played me fair and square, you were on your A game today and I couldn’t keep up. I wasn’t good enough.” Jannik shrugged.
“You were sick Jan. You shouldn’t have played, you- you should’ve told me.” Carlos puts his hand on Jannik’s knee and it burns.
“I didn’t think it would get this bad, I- I thought if i slept on it I’d be fine in the morning but when I woke up it was still just as bad.” Jannik lowers his head in shame.
“Why did you even go out there? You should’ve told someone, anyone.” Carlos says.
“I didn’t wanna let anyone down, I guess I failed at that too considering how it ended.” Jannik lets out a self deprecating laugh.
“No, no, Jannik you didn’t let anyone down.” Carlos shakes his head.
“Don’t lie to me Carlos.” he looks at him through his eyelashes.
“You know I’d never do that.” Carlos gives him the most serious look he’s ever seen cross his face—which is impressive, considering, it’s Carlos we’re talking about— but still, Jannik can’t find it within himself to believe him.
“What did the doctor say?” Carlos changes the subject.
“Flu symptoms. 38° fever.” Jannik says carefully.
“Jesus Jan.” Carlos looks at him with those big brown eyes, full of concern.
“I know, I’m sorry-“ Carlos then interrupts him yet again.
“Stop saying that!” it’s like a dam had burst, like it physically hurt Carlos just to hear Jannik apologize, but Jannik, stubborn as ever, doesn’t back down.
“I am sorry Carlos! I fucked everything up! I let everyone down and I ruined it for you!” Fuck. Jannik can feel his eyes stinging and his throat closing.
No.
He’s not going to fucking cry, suck it up Jannik.
“Ruined it for me? Jan, I- I don’t understand.” this surprises Jannik because Carlos actually sounds confused.
“I ruined it for you, you deserved to win with a better score than that. I- I couldn’t give you what you wanted.” he can still feel the tears at the back of his eyes, threatening to spill.
“What I wanted? Jannik what are you saying?” Jannik feels like he’s getting played.
“Good fucking tennis Carlos! That’s what you always say! Anytime anyone asks you about playing against me you say the same thing every time: ‘I always enjoy playing against him, he brings the best out of me, makes me play great tennis’. And I couldn’t, I let everyone down, including you. All because I couldn’t finish the fucking game. I couldn’t give you good tennis and I’m sorry.” half way through, his muscles gave out and the tears spilled.
“No Jannik, no, stop saying that. Jan, the only reason I play great tennis with you is because it’s with you. You bring out the best in me, not just on the court. The reason it’s good tennis is because of you Jannik. Because you’re the one standing on the opposite side of the net. So don’t say you didn’t give me what I wanted when you gave me just what I needed. You.” He points at him.
Carlos needs him.
Carlos, needs him.
“I’ve said it before Jannik. I need you. All of those things I say are true. You do bring out the best in me, you do make me play great tennis. Jannik, that’s not the only reason I need you though. I admire you so much Jan, your speech? Today? When you apologized to people who missed work to come and see you? And all the fans for disappointing them? Which you didn’t by the way, but you still said sorry because you care. You care so deeply, and for that I admire you.” Jannik could only sit and listen because Carlos just did that to him. That was their routine, Jannik was the listener, Carlos was the talker.
That was really the last straw for Jannik, he couldn’t hold in his sobs any longer. And Carlos was right there to catch him.
“I’m sorry.” Jannik sobbed into his shoulder.
Carlos just shushed him and brushed his fingers through his ginger locks.
“I’ve got you Jan.” Carlos rubs his back in circles as Jannik holds onto him for dear life.
They stay like that for a while, slowly rocking back and forth while Carlos whispers comfort and presses soft kisses to Jannik’s head.
Jannik looks up at him with red eyes and tear stained cheeks.
“Congrats,” he sniffs “on your win, you deserved it.” Carlos chuckles at the change in subject.
“Not how I wanted it to go, but thank you” he smiles down at the Italian in his arms. Jannik just hums.
“I’m not playing mixed doubles tomorrow.” Jannik mumbles.
“I suspected, and honestly? I’m glad, you need to rest up, if you’re gonna beat me in the final in New York.” Carlos smirks down at him.
“We’ll see about that, but I feel bad for Katerina, I was hoping I could beat you and Emma in doubles before the final.” and Carlos laughs, now this is the Jannik he knows—albeit a bit nasally— their banter has returned and it’s a welcoming feeling.
“I wouldn’t doubt it for a second. But I’m sure Jack will be out for blood tomorrow.” Carlos brushes the hair from Jannik’s forehead which is a concerning temperature.
“Oh yeah, I told him to beat your ass for me.” Jannik says, and if Carlos didn’t know him better, he’d think he was joking.
“I don’t doubt that either.” Carlos shakes his head.
They’re silent for a while until Jannik speaks up in a rough voice:
“I think you’re gonna be number one by the end of the year.” Jannik looks up at him, his tears almost dried up. Carlos is a bit surprised by his bluntness. Unfortunately, that could be true, depending on how New York goes, if Carlos wins, he’ll most likely overtake Jannik.
“I’m not thinking about that right now.” Carlos just shrugs it off, because it’s the truth. Sure, he did say he wanted to be number one by the end of the year, because he does; but at this very moment he’s just thinking about Jannik, and making him feel his best.
“But yo-“ Carlos cuts him off with a finger to his lips.
“Janni, mi amor, I don’t want to think about numbers right now, and you shouldn’t either, you need to focus on getting better.” Carlos looks at him expectantly and Jannik just nods.
“And anyway,” Carlos shrugs, “you’ll always be my number one, always.” he pecks the tip of Jannik’s nose.
That is also true, Jannik will always be number one for him, always.
“I saw you showing everyone pictures of Yeti today.” Carlos smiles down at Jannik. This finally gets a smile out of the Italian.
“Yes, apparently everyone on the internet wanted to see him, at least that’s what the interview told me.” Jannik says.
“He misses you.” Jannik grins up at Carlos. The Spaniard’s jaw drops.
“Misses me? I miss him too.” He chuckles.
“It took all my willpower not to show them that picture of you and him sleeping on the couch.” Jannik giggles. Carlos laughs along with him.
Once they both stop laughing, they look at each other intensely. Carlos leans in first. It’s been a while since they’ve done this, when they first got to Cincinnati they shared a wonderful night together, reunited after their well deserved break. Funnily enough, their relationship started after Roland Garros. Jannik was still feeling the after shocks of the loss, and Carlos being Carlos came to his room to talk. One drink turned into 5 and sooner or later they were doing much more than talking. It happened again at Wimbledon, after Jannik’s win. Which wasn’t surprising, considering they texted everyday. They had built a good relationship and really enjoyed each other’s company, they both grounded each other and that was more than enough for them to continue what they were doing.
“I don’t want to give you my flu.” Jannik pulls back.
“Don’t care.” Carlos shrugs, and starts peppering kisses all over Jannik’s face.
“Carlos.” Jannik chuckles, trying to turn his face away.
“My champion, my Wimbledon champion” he says in between kisses. “My two-time Australian open champion, my US open champion, Mi campeón” and places a particularly big kiss to Jannik’s temple.
Jannik’s whole face goes red, and he buries himself in the crook of Carlos’ neck.
Carlos is suddenly overwhelmed with a feeling he can’t quite place.
Could it be love?
Maybe.
He does love Jannik. He loves playing against him, loves watching him play, loves waking up beside him in the morning when his hair is all ruffled. He loves all the domestic things that come with Jannik, making him coffee, Jannik folding his clothes because he hates when Carlos leaves them on the floor. He loves watching him succeed—even if it includes his own loss— he loves seeing Jannik be so passionate about his sport. His fans. His family.
Fuck.
He loves Jannik.
Surprisingly, the ground doesn’t crumble below him, the world doesn’t tilt on its axis, the roof doesn’t come crashing down on him. He feels…content. He feels proud, proud of loving Jannik. Just like so many others around the world he loves Jannik, but he knows his is different to everyone else’s. It’s unique to just them. He knows Jannik, and that’s what makes him love him so.
So he tells him.
He hugs him tighter.
“Jan.” He mumbles against his curls.
Jannik just hums.
“I love you.” and it feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, like he’s been underwater for so long and is finally coming up for air.
Jannik’s head flies up to meet his eyes.
“What?” Jannik looks at him in disbelief.
“I love you. Te amo. Ti amo. How many other language do I have to say it in?” Carlos smiles down at him.
“Carlos I-“ he lets out a breath.
“You don’t have to say it back, I just…wanted you to know.” Carlos says sheepishly.
“No, I- I love you too of course I do but- I’m not imagining this? This isn’t some weird, freaky flu induced hallucination?” Jannik looks so deadly serious that it makes Carlos laugh.
“Of course it’s not Jan, I love you.” Carlos pecks him on the mouth just for finality.
“I love you too.” Jannik chuckles.
They sit in silence for a while until Carlos realizes what time it is.
“Okay, time to get up, we need to find Darren and get you back to your hotel for some rest.” but Jannik just grumbles and stays put.
“Jan, c’mon they’re gonna wonder where we are.” Carlos laughs.
“Fine.” Jannik says, with as much attitude as he can muster.
Carlos helps Jannik up and steadies him when he wobbles a bit.
“Let’s go find Darren” He leads him to the door.
Jannik scoffs
“I swear you love him more than me.” Jannik says.
“Not true! I could never love someone more that you.” Carlos mocks offense.
“Not even Yeti?” Jannik says with a smirk.
Carlos hesitates.
“Know your limits.” Carlos says.
“Aha! I knew it!” Jannik points in his face.
Carlos puts a hand on his lower back and leads him out of the room, mumbling something suspiciously like ‘Okay grandpa let’s get you back to bed.’
And as Jannik watches from his hotel bed in New York as Jack and Jessica beat Carlos and Emma 4-2 4-2, he can’t help but send Carlos a text.
Told you I told him to beat your ass ;)