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It always starts the same way, with an uncomfortable weight sitting at the back of his throat he can never seem to swallow whole. It tastes like disappointment on his tongue, burning from the inside out. He’s a forest fire, and he’s gripping the lighter that started it all so tightly in his calloused hand it hurts his joints. His breathing is erratic and his eyes are sprinkling. It's the smoke’s fault. Or maybe he’s the only one to blame, because he started it anyway. Him, and the witness who’s always watching with hands damped in kerosene. It burns everywhere, watching it happen from the sidelines.
He can only gulp when Carlos comes into view with concerned eyes. He doesn't need to speak in broken English to understand, there’s no language barrier when it comes to shared looks, and it makes Jannik's stomach drop even more. He can’t even recall what he told him, only the look of sad disappointment he found there, not in him, he knows that, but in the situation. What rights does Carlos have to feel sad about it? He won, something he always seems to do when it comes to Jannik. It's not fair for him to care, it adds so much to Jannik’s burden, too much. He’s a loser and a disappointment. He’s sick and tired. He's getting beaten by the guy he's in love with. He wants to cry and throw up, while he has to stand there, waving at the disappointed crowd who probably hates him now, if they didn't already hate him before. The people who paid way too much to watch a final that ended after 5 minutes of one sided match.
Retiring does feel worse than a plain loss, because there’s so much more what ifs? He can’t blame his skills, can’t say “Carlos was better,” because maybe he wasn’t today, and no one will ever know what could’ve happened in different conditions, if he woke up healthy that morning.
It’s also harder to watch Carlos wax poetry about him in that case, It doesn't make his cheek taint red like usual, his words tripping over one another, because it feels a bit like pity today, a bad consolation prize, worse than a 2nd place trophy. Jannik has to fight his body to stay upright, but the hardest battle is the one against his own facial expression. It hurts so much to not collapse on himself and let the emotions take the better of it, wash over and clean him whole. He really feels like crying, Carlos doesn't make it easy on him by being nice, trying to catch his eyes while telling the crowd how sorry he feels, this isn’t the way he wants to win matches, to win a trophy, and he understands how Jannik feels. How can he ? When's he standing there with his stupid trophy. Jannik does not want to hear any part of it, he doesn't care if sweet and kind Carlos thinks he's going to come back better and stronger, because that's “what true champions do” and he really is one. It makes Jannik's whole body burn harder, for all the wrong reasons. He's mad. Carlos is here, and he's sorry. How can he be sorry ? How can he look at Jannik with concerned eyes and closed off face, telling the world he's sorry for poor Jannik. Jannik is the one who should be sorry, he is. Somehow Carlos makes it sound like they both lost something today, but they didn't. It’s hard for Jannik not to resent him for that, for being so kind, always so nice to him no matter the end result, always speaking so highly of his opponent. fuck Carlos Alcaraz. fuck his PR smile and his fake concern. Screw his big arms and fluffy hair. Fuck his constant pout glued to his face when there isn’t a goofy and stupid smile to look at. Fuck him, and fuck everyone else. Fuck his own team, and whatever made him sick, and fuck tennis, screw the number 1 title slipping through his fingers with each defeat against Carlos. And most importantly fuck Jannik's own stupid heart, making him fall for the only guy he can't have while being the best at his job, fuck this rivalry screwing with his head, making him feel so much more than what he is able to take in.
He's exhausted, just wants to lay down and cry but the day isn't even over yet. He still has to stand there, smile for the pictures, and walk into the press conference. He doesn't want to do that, not today, not when he can't seem to speak without his throat burning. So he doesn't. He gets out as soon as the winning ceremony is over, telling his team he feels too sick for anything else. It's half a lie, he could still speak to the press, but he already said what he had to say, if he keeps on speaking the next sound to leave his mouth will be a sob and he's too full of pride for that. So he leaves, tells everyone he needs to be alone and locks the door of his hotel room. The back of his head hits the door and he wishes it could be enough to leave the day behind.
His phone sits heavily in his pocket. He knows what he'll find once he lights up the screen. A missed call from his mom, a text telling him to call her when he can, with “ti amo” at the end. Maybe a text from his brother, another one from his dad. Perhaps a couple of friends also tried to reach out. He knows what he'll find on the screen, and he knows it will just make the back of his throat hurt even more. He still reaches for it and turns it on, it lights up with everything he thought, and more.
The first name there is Carlos’. It's not even surprising when he thinks about it. It's on brand for him to care. Jannik still groans, scrolling through the text. They don't usually text, Jannik isn't big on texting, he never has much to say, Carlos seems to be the complete opposite.
“i mean what I say, I hope you feel better soon” is the first of a string of texts Jannik doesn't necessarily want to read, but still open. “the more important is you are healthy” Jannik can picture his concerned face when he told him the same thing earlier, his hands lingering.
Carlos
we will play together again very soon
lots of matches
tell me if i can do something for you
Jannik
Thanks
Congratulating him on the win would feel icky, so he keeps it light. He's about to lock his phone when he catches the three little dots in the conversation. Carlos is fast on and off the court, it seems.
Carlos
you alone? I saw your team but no you
Jannik
Yes
Carlos
why?
Jannik sighs, not knowing how to express his desire to bury himself in his bed and cry without sounding like a loser, so he doesn't. He heads to the bed and the device vibrates in his hand.
Carlos
i can come?
Jannik doesn't know if Carlos is telling him he could come if Jannik wanted, Or if he's asking Jannik if it's okay to visit him. It doesn't matter in the end, the answer would be the same.
Jannik
You won, you have things to do and also celebrate
Carlos
doesn't feel like a win
Jannik
Sorry
Carlos
no. don't say sorry.
it is not your fault you are sick. but I will come
Jannik
You don't need to do that
Carlos
What is your room?
Jannik
116
Carlos sends back a smiley and a thumbs up and Jannik hides his face under the pillow. He's not ready to see him, he didn't even have time to cry yet, it's still all built up and it hurts everywhere. He doesn't want to see Carlos, doesn't even know why the spanish man is insisting on coming.
The knock on his door comes thirty minutes later. Jannik is changed and under the covers by then. His eyes stings, yearning for tears that just won't come. Even crying feels like a task he can't succeed today. He stands up, trudging to the door. There's another knock before Jannik can reach the handle. He unlocks it, and tries not to stare at Carlos. “Hi” the Spaniard greets. He's not smiling, it's rare enough to be the first thing Jannik notices.
He moves out of the way, leaving enough space for Carlos to enter and greets him back flatly. Carlos closes the door behind him.
They both stand awkwardly, looking at each other. Jannik just wants to get back to bed, fall asleep, and wake up in three days. “You are okay, right?” Carlos asks stupidly. Jannik wants to be angry, he finds he doesn't have any harsh words to throw at the younger man when he simply replies “I'm Fine,” he looks away then, the scrutiny getting to his head. He walks slowly to the bed, each step heavier than the one before, before siting on the bed, his back against the headboard, while Carlos keeps looking at him with the same concern in his eyes he found on the court. Jannik wants to tell him to stop, he doesn't.
“You are hurt?”
“Yeah”
Carlos immediately steps toward him, “where?” he asks, brows furrowed and eyes wandering through the Italian's body, “Your arm?”
“No, it's not- my arm is okay. I don't physically hurt”
“No? but you keep the sleeve always”
“I'm used to it”
“Oh” he nods, his eyes still not leaving Jannik, “Where does it hurt?” he asks softly, and Jannik wants to scream. He doesn't know how to tell him it burns all of the time, and he's making the fire so much worse by being near.
“I'm not hurting. sorry. I just feel sick”
“Did you eat?“
“No, I'm not hungry”
“You need to eat, I will order something for you” he moves to the other side of the bed and picks up the phone to call room service. Jannik sighs, looking up at the ceiling and ignoring the other man. There's no need to fight him over anything, he already won.
Jannik doesn't even notice him calling, but he imagines he's done with it when Carlos sits on the other side of the bed, looking at him.
“You will play the US Open, yes ?”
“Yes. just, it's better if i dont play doubles”
“Oh. you need to rest. stay healthy”
Jannik doesn't reply, because there's nothing to say. but Carlos isn't done talking, he never seems to be.
“How do you feel?”
“I feel bad Carlos, obviously”
“What can I do ?”
“Nothing”
“Why is no one here with you?”
“Because I wanted to be alone”
Carlos frowns, “But you are sick”
Jannik sighs. He's trying his best, but Carlos makes it so hard sometimes, “I'm okay”
“You don't look okay. Do you have a fever?” Carlos asks, the back of his hand immediately finding Jannik's forehead, making him wince slightly.
Jannik tries to move away, out of reach “Carlos, I'm okay.”
“Jannik” Carlos says, but it sounds so sweet and warm in his mouth, the pronunciation is all wrong. He hates it. “Let me, ok?”
There's a knock on the door and Carlos jumps out of bed, almost tripping on his way to the door. He smiles so brightly at the hotel staff waiting there with a tray of food, he thanks her warmly and gets back to Jannik, the smile immediately wiped out of his face. He looks too serious and it doesn't fit his soft features, “Do you want to eat on the bed?”
“I don't want to eat” Jannik replies, his cheeks getting warmer against his own volition.
“I will bring it to you”
“Carlos-” he starts, but the other man hands him a bowl of soup “What is that?”
“It's chicken soup, good when you are sick. My mom always make me some”
“Carlos I don't want to eat chicken soup”
“Why not?”
“I think i will throw up if i eat anything”
“Do you want a banana? Or toast maybe? it is easy to eat”
“I don't want anything”
“But-”
Jannik snaps at him “Can you stop ?”
Carlos flinches slightly, “What” he asks, blinking.
“Whatever you are doing. All of that. Why are you even here?”
Something on his face falls, “to take care of you,” he says like its obvious, like he does that everyday
“I don't need you to take care of me”
“I know, I want to.”
“Why?”
He shrugs, looking so apologetic, “Sorry. You don't like it?”
There's a beat of silence. Jannik can hear both of their breathing, synced together. He gulps, his throat so tight it hurts. He doesn't understand Carlos, wishes he could hate him, it would be so much easier if he didn't have to feel so much every time. He wants to apologize, take his words back, because Carlos looks like a kicked puppy all of a sudden and it's all Jannik's fault. How unfair.
“Carlos, you are confusing me” he settles for, it doesn't mean anything.
The other man blinks his eyelashes at him. “I am sorry for that. I just want to help, but you don’t let me”
“I-” Jannik starts, he can't bring himself to finish the sentence, he doesn't even know what he wants to say, he just knows it hurts him too much to keep on avoiding it. “You make it hard,” he finally speaks quietly.
“Why?” Carlos asks so earnestly, he's so eager to know, wants to help so badly he's ready for anything to be thrown at him.
“Because. I don't want your help. I lost the final against you. I haven't answered my family and told my team to leave me alone, but you are here in my room, like it's normal”
“Jannik, you retired because you are sick. It is not my fault, no?”
“Yes, I know. But it's not the problem. I look at you and all I feel is disappointment in myself.”
“It's also not your fault. It happens”
Jannik looks down at his long legs stretched on the bed. The words he wants to speak stay stuck in his throat, pinned by Carlos’ gaze lingering on him. The other man sighs. They don’t understand each other, there’s something missing for it all to click into place. Jannik could just say one word and save them both from this, but it's a hard thing to ask of him on a normal day, and inconceivable today after a retirement. He still hasn’t cried and his eyes stung, he has to blink an abnormal amount of time to keep it at bay. Carlos is clueless to it all. Or maybe it’s Jannik who is too stuck in his own head to see what’s in front of him.
“You do not like me very much, but that’s okay” Carlos says gently, eyes back on the bowl of soup he’s still cupping in his hands. He's stirring it without thinking about it, just to keep his hands and mind busy. The words make Jannik wince, he feels like a dick without even knowing what he’s actually doing wrong. He keeps quiet, not knowing what to say. Carlos isn’t asking him anything anyway, he already made his opinion on him, and Jannik isn’t one to show he cares about how he’s being perceived. He still does, though.
“It’s not- it’s not about that,” He tries.
Carlos hums, bringing the spoon to his mouth. He tastes it on his tongue before looking back at Jannik, ignoring the conversation he himself started, “It’s very good,” he says plainly.
Jannik finds himself staring hard at him, he wants to ask if he’s doing that on purpose, but looking at him, he knows the answer. “Yeah?” he says instead.
Carlos nods and hands him the bowl of soup once more. Jannik doesn’t fight it this time, the quicker he’ll eat, the quicker Carlos will leave him alone. Maybe. He tries to convince himself that’s what he really yearns for. He doesn’t linger on the spoon and where it was five seconds before, he just focuses on the food. He can’t deny he’s hungry, he doesn't necessarily feel like he is going to vomit. The pitt in his stomach doesn’t come from the illness, but he already knew that. It’s not the first time he feels it here, he’s accustomed to it. In hindsight, this might be the scariest part. This, or the fact Carlos is looking proud over Jannik actually eating. Maybe it all comes down to the same thing.
He puts the bowl down on the nightstand, next to his phone lit up with unanswered texts. He needs to call his mom at some point, maybe not now, he can’t seem to remember what time it is in Italy right now, timezone doesn’t usually mess up with his head too much, he’s used to it, but today nothing feels like the usual. The predicament he found himself in is definitely new. He wonders what Carlos is thinking about right now. If he wasn’t so hung up on his retirement, maybe he would ask. He would ask a lot of things.
“You should go” he throws, as Carlos opens his mouth to say something that will never see the light of day. The Spaniard looks at him quizzically.
“You are mad at me” he says matter of factly.
Jannik scoffs, feeling called out, “I just want to get into bed. Thanks for the soup”
“Is it okay if I stay, a little more”
It’s not, Jannik should say. He should do a lot of things, but all he’s able to is whispers a quiet “Why”
“I want to” Carlos replies, like he would say anything else, like it’s nothing, normal for them to be like that with each other. Maybe it’s normal for him, Jannik wonders if he acts this way with other players on tour. He realises he doesn’t want to know the answer to that question.
“You just want to?”
“Yes. I want to be with you the way that I can, if that is okay.”
Jannik wants to ask him if he knows what he’s saying, how it sounds in his mouth, ask if he meant for it to come out so… charged with double meaning. “because i’m sick?” he asks instead
There's a beat of silence, during which Carlos' eyes never leave his, like he’s trying to find an answer engraved in here, but there’s nothing but confusion. “Yes” Carlos speaks every word like they’re easy. Like every syllable isn’t burning its way into him before they are uttered. Lucky him.
“You pity me because I retired,” Jannik spits out.
He doesn't know what it is exactly that changes on the other man’s face, it’s the simplest tweak. “always just tennis,” he mumbles.
“What?”
“Nothing, Jannik. I care”
it’s gibberish to him, he doesn’t get it, doesn’t understand what there is to care about, so he asks “Care about what”
Carlos looks at him like he’s stupid, and maybe he is, “About you” he replies simply.
Jannik tries to laugh it off but it gets stuck in the back of his throat when he sees Carlos looking away, almost shy. He gulps instead.
“You don't have to care, im fine”
“Of course I don't have to. I still do, I do not choose to care or not. I am not like you”
Jannik feels the words hit his skin like a knife, “what does it mean”
“We are not the same. That is okay, nothing wrong” Carlos smiles, but there's nothing to smile about. Jannik wonders if there's something he's not telling him, but he feels too sick to try and decipher anything.
He lays down on the bed, looking at the ceiling. “I care about a lot of things” he says to himself
Carlos moves closer, "I know you do” he says softly. It sounds like an apology, to what, Jannik isn't sure.
“Not just tennis, it's just the only thing I can do well.”
“Nothing else?” Carlos asks.
Jannik feels too seen under his gaze, he wants to close his eyes, tell him to leave, and finally cry. “I am not like you. I just have tennis. You have golf, you have people everywhere, friends, family always. Me? Just tennis, and people do not like me even here.”
Carlos lets out a strangled noise, “What?” he asks, “you have people too”
Jannik scoffs, he wants to laugh but he's teetering on the edge, knowing only tears will come out. “Carlos. You do not understand”
“Explain, Jannik” Gianni. He doesn't know if he loves or hates the way he says his name.
Jannik sighs, “people love you, always. And of course that is normal, you are very good, the best. Fan favorite. Other players love you too, the media also. Your family is always here and you have a lot of friends. Me, i always have to work for it. I am not favorite for the fans, i do not know how to do it like you do. They only care about the doping. The players, they do not like me very much, no one called when i was not playing. My family also, they cannot be there always. And I have nothing else but playing matches, and it is useless when i lose against you, always against you. Of course you are the best, so it is normal. But i hate it, and you always smile, winning or losing you are happy. I am not. I am a bad loser, I do not want you to win against me. It makes me feel useless. You take the win and you take my pride by coming here to care, makes me remember you are better than me always at everything.”
Somehow Carlos is even closer than before when Jannik finishes speaking. He hold his breath. “I am sorry jannik, you are better than me, you are number 1. Sometimes I win, sometimes you win, always like this, no? And I smile because I enjoyed playing against you no matter what. It is okay if you cannot feel happy when you lose, but you also always smile at me. We are the same, no? I do not like losing either. And you are not alone, I am here. Next time maybe you win and I lose, and you can come see me. It is not mean. Caring is not so bad”
“I know Carlos, its just - fuck i feel so bad”
“Because you are sick”
“No, not because I am sick. Because I feel like a disappointment, and you are too perfect” he gulps.
Carlos blinks stupidly, his mouth opening and closing multiple time like hes searching for words, “you think i am perfect?”
“Of course you are”
“No I am not. You are, perfect always. And today not so good so i am here to make you feel better”
It brings tears to Jannik’s eyes that he can’t keep at bay this time. One drop slowly runs away from him and he can’t wipe it fast enough for Carlos not to notice, his eyes glued to his face. He makes a small noise in the back of his throat, and rushes to cradle Jannik’s face in his hands. Jannik’s breath hitches, his eyes flying open to find the other boy way too close all of a sudden.
“I am making you cry, no, no, no. I’m sorry.” he says horrified, not caring one bit about their closeness or how warm his palms are on Jannik’s pale face. He’s holding him like porcelain and it’s enough for more tears to fall, but Carlos catches them all with his thumbs.
Jannik feels sick, he can’t remember a time where someone seemed to care that much about him, and what it implies scares him. “it’s not your fault, i just-” he tries, but Carlos doesn’t let him finish his sentence.
“It’s okay. You’re not alone, no? i am here.” he’s so warm, jannik looks at him and finds nothing but sweetness in his eyes, it bleeds on him.
He wants to say so much but can’t voice any of his thoughts, it’s too overwhelming. It feels like opening a safe for everyone to walk into. He wants to keep it for himself, all of it. Carlos doesn’t move, he stays so close Jannik can feel his breath hitting his cheek, and he wants, he wants so badly.
“Maybe you should sleep, it will be good for you” Carlos offers, and when Jannik nods he doesn’t make any move to leave. “Is it okay if I stay?” he asks softly, his thumb still brushing Jannik’s face, even though the tears stopped falling.
“if you want” his voice comes out so rough, those three words are a struggle to speak.
Carlos smiles, he gazes at him, analyzing his whole face. “did you… take it out?” he tries, motioning to his eyes
Jannik blinks at him, not understanding at first, before it clicks, “oh, my contacts?”
“yeah that, you take it out to sleep, no?”
“I didn't, but the case is in the bathroom. It's fine”
Carlos stands up immediately, walking toward the bathroom without any word. He comes back quickly, his hands washed and holding the small case in his hand. He sits back on the bed, always so close.
“i can do it, if you want”
“what?”
“Take them out for you”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because. I want to help” he replies softly.
Jannik would notice the red in his cheeks if he wasn't so focused on his own feelings. It feels intimate in a way not many things are, the idea of wanting to put your fingers in someone’s eyes to help them. Jannik doesn’t even like doing it for himself, he can’t imagine wanting to do it for someone else, someone like him out of all things.
“You want?” he asks, confused.
“Of course” Carlos nods, putting the case on the bedside table without breaking eye contact.
“Carlos, you are strange” he says without meaning it, not able to tell him what he really wants.
Carlos looks away from him, scratching the back of his head. He laughs but it sounds wrong, embarrassed maybe, and jannik wants to go back in time and take the words back when he simply replies “Sorry, I am too much”
“No, no, no. You’re not too much, it’s just- I’ve never thought about someone else doing that for me. I don’t think my body would even allow it, my eyes would probably close against my own will before you try to take them out.”
“Oh, okay. I just want to help”
“Because you care”
“Yes”
“Thank you, it’s- thank you Carlos”
He takes the contact lenses out by himself, his cheeks so warm he’s glad for the small amount of light in the room. Carlos keeps his eyes on him the whole time, cataloging his every move and expression.
“Do you see really bad, without them?” he asks, his tone concerned
Jannik feels so hot, “A little, it’s not a bother right now. I can see you”
Carlos sits closely on the bed, “Eyes, they say a lot, always. Words not as much”
“Yeah?”
“Yes. your eyes are always speaking more than you say, I see”
Jannik looks away quickly, the sentiment of being looked right to the insides too much to bear, he feels too raw, cut open by the other man.
“Noooo, look at me, Jannik,” He tries, but when the Italian man doesn’t move, he holds his chin in his fingers, guiding him for their gaze to meet.
Jannik hates it, he hates how Carlos is looking back at him, hates that he’s apparently so easy to read. Most of all, he hates how he doesn't hate any of it. It shouldn’t make him feel this way, he should be angry, push him away, say something mean about how men should not act like that with each other, scream how wrong it all is, how Carlos makes his whole body burn. He doesn’t say any of it, just lets a small sound drop from his lips, making Carlos look down at them. And how unfair it is, to want something so much and feel so deeply about it. Can Carlos see this in his eyes? Is his desire written all across his face? Does he know right now? Did he know in the past when they played together? Has someone else figured it out? figured him out?
“It’s okay, Jannik”
‘it’s not okay, it’s all very wrong”
Carlos just blinks at him, biting his lips anxiously, “Nothing wrong”
Jannik sighs, “Everything is wrong, can’t you see? I- I just lose everything, everytime”
Carlos drops his hand from his face, “Stop talking about tennis”
“I’m not! It’s not just tennis, it’s everything. You can’t do that, it’s not fair”
“Jannik, what do you mean, what am i doing, how is it not fair, tell me, i dont understand”
“you, you’re not being fair” Jannik almost screams
“Me?”
Jannik gulps, he feels erratic, knows he’s on the verge of something too big for him to carry. He doesn't want to say it, but Carlos is looking at him with his big puppy eyes, and he just wants to know, it’s written all across his face. All he wants is to understand Jannik, to help him, but there’s no possible help for that. His sickness isn’t one that can be cured. He gulps again, and Carlos’s hand comes cradling back his face. The gentleness of the contact breaks something in him, he leans into it, and feels the tears prickling behind his eyelids once more.
“Carlos…” he whispers
“Yes, Jannik, tell me,” He’s so eager to know, to please in any way he can. It messes with Jannik’s brain.
“I just- I want so much” he finally says, his voice wavering on every word. He feels unsteady
“What do you want?” he asks simply, like no matter what jannik replies, he will find a way to get it for him in the next second. Looking back at the man, maybe he believes that.
Jannik looks at him, his gaze jungling between his eyes, nose and mouth “You” he breathes out in a whisper.
Carlos blinks at him, his eyebrows doing something funny. He takes too long to reply, the silence stretching between them like an elastic, and Jannik fears the moment it will come back to hit him in the face. He wants to swallow the word immediately, apologize and move on, but he can’t. Carlos hands are on him, his fingers petting the skin so softly he feels like silk.
“I want, too. A lot” Carlos whispers back, his breath on the other man's skin. It makes them both run warm.
“You do?” Jannik asks just above a whisper.
Carlos giggles, “Jannik of course I do, I am always embarrassing myself in front of you, you did not notice?”
“I just- I don’t know”
The smile on Carlos’ face is so big he can’t even wipe it out, Jannik doesn’t want him to anyway. He feels giddy, the whole day almost forgotten when he looks at the other man.
Carlos’ teeth grab Jannik's lip, before pressing against him. It’s a lot, nothing Jannik has ever experienced before, he doesn't know if it’s because he’s kissing a man for the first time, or if it's just how Carlos is. It’s not soft, their tongue immediately meeting and dancing on a quick rhythm. Carlos is noisy, letting small moans out every once in a while as the wetness of the kiss is making him go mad.
Jannik is the first one to break the kiss, he feels so shy under Carlos' hungry gaze, but he doesn't have time to overthink the situation before the Spanish man kisses his temple softly, the biggest smile known to mankind on his face. “Sorry i am a lot” Carlos apologies, before brushing his hair away from his face. It’s so different from their kiss, the gentle way he has to touch and care, but it’s all so him, it makes perfect sense. He’s intense, soft, caring, and he does everything with so much desire. It just feels strange, to be the object of it all. He thinks maybe this is how the tennis ball must feel in his hands.
Jannik smiles at him, “Don’t say sorry, I like it”
Carlos doesn't reply, but he moves slightly on the bed to lay down next to Jannik, his gaze never leaving his face, “I thought you hated me”
“Me?” Jannik frowns, “No, never. Why?”
Carlos wets his lips, gazing kindly over Jannik's whole face, trying to memorize it, “You are so… always pushing”
Jannik feels shy under his attention, he can feel his cheek turning red, “Ah, sorry. It’s just scary sometimes, to want”
“No, don’t apologize,” he kisses his nose, “it’s okay, I understand”
“Okay” Jannik replies gently, grabbing one of Carlos' arms to bring his hand to his lips and kiss it. It makes the other man smile even wider, “You’re going to be sick”
“It’s okay” Carlos breathes against his skin, tightening his grip on his hand, “I am where I want to be”
It makes Jannik's stomach twist funnily, the easy way Carlos has to just be himself and say what he wants without overthinking his every action. It’s admirable, he wishes he could be the same. He's not there yet but it's alright, he thinks to himself, as long as he can be truthful in other ways.
He reaches out for the other man's lips, softly, and Carlos lets him lead the way without pushing, he’s warm next to him, and it spreads to Jannik’s whole body, making him dizzy for other reasons than sickness.