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22 Medals.
18 Gold Medals.
He couldn’t believe it.
When Michael stood on the podium for his last medal in London and looked out on the sea of faces, with his country’s flag waving as it was drawn for him and everyone in America, he thought, ‘This is okay. This is good. It’s over now, and I had a good run.’
And that was it for a while. He retired and nothing changed, the world kept spinning. Suddenly it became less about the next race and more about what he would do now that he was done. He would still be part of swimming; if not only because of who he was and everything he had done for the sport in his tenure as the most decorated Olympian in the water, but because of Ryan and the fact that he would still be racing in Rio come 2016.
It was alright that he wasn’t going to be in the pool to race against anyone anymore. It was alright that he traded in his goggles and swim cap for golf pants and charity events.
Everything was alright.
Until it wasn’t.
Mike didn’t know when he started to feel hopelessness creeping up on him. One second he would be excited about the day, excited about the possibilities of starting something new, and the next he would be staring at himself in the mirror wondering just what the hell he thought he was doing, or struggling daily just to get out of bed because what was the point?
Everything he had done, everything that he was, started in that pool and now that it was over Mike didn’t see the appeal of going on.
His friends and family were there for him. His mom and sisters gave him unconditional support in anything that he wanted in life, Bob still pushed him just past the edge of what he thought he could do, and Ryan… Ryan was his constant.
Ryan provided the running commentary of ridiculousness that Mike thought he would miss the most about being who he was outside of the pool.
Text conversations that went like;
Doggy: ‘Mikey, Carts d-stroid the goggles again :P’
Champ: ‘Stop leaving them on the ground?’
Doggy: ‘I swear dood he like opend my gym bag and found thm!’
Champ: ‘Sure Reezy, I’ll bet he did.’
Doggy: ‘Whatev, get ur lazy azz to Flo-rida u dork’
Kept Michael sane in the midst of charity events and people asking him what he was going to do now that he was retired, like the things he was already doing weren’t good enough.
Sometime in the midst of the questions and speculations, in the midst of missing the pool and never wanting to see water ever again, Michael lost himself, and everything seemed kind of hopeless.
It was a late night conversation after Ryan had a race that brought him close enough to Maryland for it not to be weird to make the drive that saved Michael from doing something that he might have lived to regret.
Hours of ribbing each other, playing a stupid amount of video games, and bull shitting each other about things that had been arguing about since they were teenagers; made Michael realize that he didn’t want to give it up. He didn’t want to give up being with Ryan like this, and he didn’t want to give up the race.
The water was what brought them together; swimming was what made him, made them, who they were in and out of the pool.
“I don’t want to stop.” Mike said into the darkness that night.
He waited as the silence drew out, wondering if he should elaborate, but was interrupted by a searching hand flopping on his chest and making its way up to his face. Those daft wondering touches brought a flush back to Michael’s neck, but years of them falling into each other’s beds, migrating to each other when they where needed the most prevented Michael from thinking anything of Ryan’s tactile ways.
“What are you doing?” Michael finally asked after minutes of Ryan saying nothing as he continued his sightless searching of Michael’s face.
“Just seeing if you were serious.” Ryan replied, and if it were anyone else Michael would have called them on their bullshit, but it was Ryan and that was just the kind of thing that Ryan said.
It was cemented in Michael’s mind and heart when Ryan leaned over to get into his space, kissing him and mumbling against his lips, “Welcome back.”
Fast forward a few years, a few close calls, and what felt like a million more races in the best way possible and Michael was yet again on the international stage watching his flag being raised between the silver and the bronze countries; the American national anthem playing for all to hear.
Three races and he got his title back; he got three golds with two more races to go. He was bone tired but it had all been worth it, and this time when people asked him if this was it, if he were done after Rio, he had no reservations in answering that ‘yes’ he was finally finished after this. He could happily retire at thirty-one years old with his twenty-one maybe twenty-three medals, his family, and Ryan with no regrets.
Ryan already had two races done, having won gold with Michael in the 4x200 free, and had taken first in his heat of the 200 IM.
Michael could see that Ryan was getting tired and the groin injury that he had before they even set foot in Brazil hadn’t helped him at all, but they were in this together and Ryan told Michael repeatedly that the injury was a thing of the past.
Michael and Ryan had been friends for upwards of twelve years, on and off again lovers for eight of those years, and consistently in a monogamous relationship for the past three of those.
Michael knew when Ryan was lying to him. The Florida resident was not known for having a good poker face, but for the life of him, Michael thought that Ryan was telling him the truth.
Michael panted heavily as looked up at the times after the 200 IM was finished. He came in first, and he looked over expecting to see the one-two that he had seen in this race for the last four Olympics, but it wasn’t Ryan in silver; it wasn’t Ryan on the podium at all.
Ryan floated over to him for their customary fist bump and he looked so tired, so sad, and the smile that he flashed Mike didn’t even reach his eyes.
Michael had so many things that he wanted to say, so many ‘you did so well, please don’t be sad’s, so many ‘I love you and I’m so glad we got to swim together again’s, but he knew what Ryan was going through. He went through the same thing after Le Clos took his title in London. No matter how many times someone told you that it just one race; it was still that one race.
They were split apart after they got out of the water; Michael to the podium and Ryan fading into the few hundred media, training, Olympic, and swimming people that tended to be there after a race.
Michael got dressed and followed his guide to wherever he needed to go. He looked around for Ryan in the melee of people as he waited for the 200 IM medal ceremony. He had plans that Ryan didn’t know about; he needed Ryan there with him, like he was always there with him.
The medal was placed around his neck, his twenty-second gold, and they walked around the pool like he had done three other times that week. Once he was near his family, he blithely hoped that he would find Ryan with his mom and sisters, smiling that dopey grin that seemed permanent with him.
There was no Ryan by his family and he could tell that his mom knew something was up, she shrugged with a sad smile as he waved to them. He didn’t know what his face was doing, but it must have been betraying his sadness at not finding Ryan when he really wanted to.
The blur of ‘after winning a medal’ settled over Michael and he knew it had been an exhausting day when one second he was walking around the pool and the next when he looked up he was back at the door to his and Ryan’s room.
Michael blinked away his tiredness as he inserted the room key, hoping that Ryan was still up as he entered their room.
“Ry?” Michael called as the door shut itself behind him.
“Mike?” Ryan’s voice answered from the closed bathroom door.
Michael sighed out a relieved breath. He didn’t know how he would have felt if Ryan hadn’t been there, he had been trying to call him since he was allowed to leave the aquatic center.
“Hey,” Michael started; he walked over to the bathroom door and tried the handle. It was open, “I’m coming in.”
“Mike,” Ryan said, but that was as far as he got. Michael opened the door to see Ryan sitting on the floor. One leg pulled up to his chest, his top half covered in an old USA sweatshirt, but his bottom half in only his speedo. He would have looked normal save for the ridiculously large bruised area surrounding his upper left thigh.
Michael froze when he fully opened the door. “What the hell?” Came rushing out of his mouth.
“Mike,” Ryan said again, his face drawn in resignation. “Don’t freak out, man.”
“Don’t freak out?” Michael replied incredulously. “You can’t be serious.”
Michael stepped fully into the bathroom to crouch down beside Ryan. “You said it didn’t hurt anymore. Can you even move?”
“It wasn’t that bad,” Ryan replied trying to draw himself up further with his back to the bathtub. “It wasn’t this nasty color before the race, it looks like I might have aggravated it or some shit.”
“Can you move?” Michael asked again, his anger tapering away slightly at how incredibly hurt Ryan looked as he sat there careful of moving his injured leg.
Ryan opened his mouth to reply, but a twitch in his leg made him hiss in pain. “I wouldn’t say no to some help.”
It took a few minutes of patient pushing and careful pulling to get Ryan to their bed, and when they finally did they were both exhausted and feeling kind of raw.
“Did you get a shot when you left the pool?” Michael asked walking over to his gym bag.
“It wasn’t this bad in the ice tub; it didn’t start to turn gross until I was on my way to the stands by Debbie, Hil, and Whit.” Ryan answered with a few pained moans escaping.
Michael was expecting Ryan to say that he hadn’t gotten the shot, but hearing that Ryan had stayed and was on his way to be with Michael’s family even after they had raced and he had lost to Mike and was probably in a lot of pain, had Michael pausing and clearing a lump from his throat as he rummaged through his bag for some pain killers.
He found them and walked back over to where Ryan was poking at the bruise at the juncture of his leg.
“Stop that.” Michael admonished as he walked back over to Ryan with some pain killers and a bottle of Gatorade.
After Ryan down the pills that probably wouldn’t kill as much of the pain as either of them would like, he moved over slowly and turned on his non-injured side in an obvious invitation for Michael to join him on the bed. Mike sighed, they had things to talk about, they had Ryan keeping that he was in pain from Michael to talk about; but Ryan was in pain, and Michael was terrible at denying him things.
Michael conceded easily and carefully got into bed. Ryan looked miserable and Michael just wanted to make him feel better.
“Stop that.” Ryan admonished.
“Wha-” Michael breathed onto Ryan’s neck where his lips were centimeters from skin.
“You have on your constipated ‘something is wrong I have to fix it’ face.” Ryan cut in.
“You can’t even see my face right now.” Michael pointed out, steadfastly refusing to tell Ryan to shove it, because then he would know he was right.
“Mike, c’mon, there’s nothing you can fix here.” Ryan said as he pulled the arm that Michael had wrapped around his waist up to his chest. He wrapped his hands around Michael’s wrist and settled his hand by his heart. “This happens, you know this happens.”
“It shouldn’t happen to you.” Michael answered nonsensically. He knew that Ryan was right, this happened all the time and to everyone not just Ryan, but that’s what Michael was there for; to make sure that Ryan didn’t get hurt.
“Babe,” Ryan squeezed Michael’s hand tighter before settling it back on his chest.
“Why did you race?” Michael mumbled into Ryan’s shock white hair. “If you knew…”
“I…” Ryan started.
The comfortable silence that they both craved couldn’t happen until Michael knew. He was dead tired, he knew that Ryan was tired and in pain, but he wanted to know, he needed to.
Michael couldn’t see Ryan’s face, but when he spoke he heard the smile that his lover wore so well.
“I knew I wouldn’t win, knew I wouldn’t even place in the final.” Ryan finally answered.
“Why-” Michael started but Ryan cut him off with another squeeze to his hand.
“I knew in the semi that I had to place, I had to at least try.” Ryan took a shaky breath, and Michael buried his face in Ryan’s hair to provide a little bit of comfort. “I wanted… I just wanted to race with you one more time.”
Ryan pulled Michael’s hand up to his lips and kissed his clenched fist that was wrapped around Ryan’s fingers.
“I just wanted to race with you one more time, because I knew that’s what you wanted.” Ryan continued. “Twelve years, Mike.”
“Twelve years.” Michael answered back.
They had made it twelve years.
“I wanted it to be one-two like it always was.” Michael said after they had both been silent for a moment. “It didn’t matter which one was which, but I wanted you up there with me.”
“Me too.” Ryan replied wetly.
“I… I had something that I wanted to ask you up on that podium.” Michael pulled Ryan even closer as he spoke. “After the race I thought that even though you weren’t up there, I would find you and ask you anyway.”
“One track mind with you.” Ryan chuckled.
“You’re one talk Reezy.”
Michael eased his hand out of Ryan’s grasp and he wanted to do this on the podium with their friends, their families, and the world watching, but Michael didn’t need all that, and Ryan would probably like this better anyway.
Michael dug in his pocket for a second. He pulled out a small ring box that had been sitting like a precious stone in his bag and back in his sock draw since the day after Ryan mumbled ‘Welcome back’ against his lips all those years ago.
“Twelve years together, Ryan.” Michael opened the box and reached over to place it on the bed in front of Ryan.
Michael could feel Ryan’s gasp from all of the points where they were connected. Michael smiled into Ryan’s hair again and then asked, “How about all of the other years together too?”
Ryan reached out and grasped the box, running his fingers over the diamond encrusted ring that sat innocently in the middle.
Ryan nodded and asked through what Michael was sure were tears of joy, “Twelve years just wasn’t enough?”
Michael could fell tears overflowing in his eyes as he answered, “Never enough.”
-fini-