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He enters the apartment and locks the door before falling into the ground, his legs curled up against his torso, his head resting against the cold wall. He tries to calm his breath, counting to three every breath he takes, to avoid his heart racing even faster than now.
He stays still for an amount of time he can’t define, all the feelings he tried to shut down during practice coming back to taunt him, stretching out their tentacles to seize the last remaining glimmer of light in his mind and crush it until it’s suffocated.
He hears Darren somewhere in the room, a muffled sound in his ears, but he doesn’t have the energy to do anything but stay still.
He just feels the void.
His brain is killing him, the hopeless sensation of not belonging investing him in familiar waves. He knows he needs to do something, because if Darren spots him like that, he would worry. But he can’t. His body seems incapable of reacting to his commands. So he follows his therapist’s advice. He doesn’t fight his inability to move,he just stays still, trying to think about things that are important to him in the real world. Things that are worth being alive for. Things that warm his heart.
The first thought that pops into his mind is Carlos, of course. He tries to tie himself to his image, but there are some features he can’t picture and, once again, he envies people’s ability to imagine things. He has never had that gift. So, he tries to remember Carlos’ touch on his skin, callous hands over his thighs, tender lips on his own. He tries to lock himself to those physical feelings to come back to the here-and-now, getting away from the black hole he’s currently in. But the trick is not working today and he just spirals even more.
Because imagining Carlos also means remembering that they are not talking right now.
Because he screwed everything up.
Because their last confrontation has left him high and dry.
He sees himself - thank you so much brain, now you can picture things, uh? - in a club, foreign hands trailing around his hips, their heads moving simultaneously at the sound of a Taylor Swift song he somehow recognises, getting closer and closer to the guy dancing with him. He feels the alcohol kicking in, his head becoming more numb as time goes by, little droplets of sweats running over his forehead, curly red hair becoming even curlier, throat burning from the need of water. Hands on his torso, his back, everywhere all at once, the familiar breath of another body tickling his neck. But it’s not Carlos.
And then he remembers the kiss. Lips crushing together with a desperate urge, teeth bumping, hands fisted in his hair. What comes next is his own overwhelming need not to think at all, the need to forget the real world. He can only think about the strong biceps under his fingers, all muscles and smooth skin. He loses himself in that touch and starts kissing the boy back. He remembers their sharp breaths when they break apart, doubtful eyes mirroring wanting ones. Neither of them says anything, they just keep staring at each other, short of breath, unwilling to believe what’s just happened.
He would like to just stop right there, take that memory back. He regrets with every ounce of his being what happens next. But he cannot change it now, so he just keeps going and relives the moment, playing the memory in his head. He despises himself, but he cannot help it. The pain that fills him is familiar and bearable, almost soothing. He knows all too well how to dwell in this feeling.
He remembers the urge to kiss the boy again and again and again, until they’re just one body vibing to the sound of music and the universe is composed only by their chests bumping together, colliding into each other, until no thought is left but the weight of the other guy on him, pinning him against a dirty wall, their sighs and groans overlapping the loud music. He doesn’t care that anyone could recognise them. That thought can wait, together with the certainty of having fucked up very badly. He will think about that tomorrow. And so, when they break apart and Jack smiles at him, Jannik kisses him again, the incredible urge to leave the real world behind invading all his brain cells. Jack kisses him back, his mouth open, tongue pushing past his clenched teeth. His kisses are as ferocious as his forehands shots on court, stifling Jannik. He's eager to eat him alive, as if he were going to win a match point in a Grand Slam final, his hands trailing on all of Jannik’s body, caressing his arms, back, shoulders, everywhere all at once. Jannik melts under those touches and somehow files in his head that kissing Jack is exactly as he imagined: ferocious and exciting. He slid his hand to the back of Jack's neck, pulling him even closer. There's a hectic electricity buzzing between their bodies, vibing at the rhythm of the lights in the club. He feels dizzy, drunk from the physical desire of being possessed by the Brit.
“God, I’ve wanted this for so long” Jack murmurs between kisses, his British accent even more marked than usual due to the booze flowing in his veins, making him even sexier. And then, he’s all over Jannik again. “You want to go back to my hotel room?” Jack whispers hoarsely, while playfully nibbling the Italian’s bottom lip. Jannik nods briefly, incapable of saying anything at all. Because he’s scared of saying out loud how strongly he has wanted this too. There’s no room for any otherthought in his brain. He just follows the Brit, already longing for Jack to crush him again.
“Jannik?” a familiar voice echoes in the room, while he's walking with Jack, their hands intertwined.
He freezes, already recognizing the voice, then starts to turn around very slowly, all the effects of the alcohol vanishing instantly.Maybe the consequences of his own action need to be faced right now, after all. Because Carlos is standing right in front of him, with his dark brown eyes wide open, horror painted all over his face.
A little part of Jannik - a part he's not proud of - thinks that at least he didn’t see them kissing, that he maybe can still get away with it. Even if, probably, the red spots on Jannik's neck, the swollen lips, the intertwined fingers give everything away.
“Hey Carlos, I… ehm… we…” Jannik babbles. He can feel Jack breathing irregularly behind him, his thumb gently caressing Jannik's palm while Jannik would very much like to chop his hand off and throw it in the trash, to at least try to erase any proof that he did anything. He would like to tell Jack to fuck off now because he can’t bear the look on Carlos' face, or the idea of being the cause of it. But he doesn’t do anything. He just stays still and keeps staring at Carlos.
Carlos doesn’t say anything,he simply turns on his heels and leaves, while Jannik stands there, feeling like a fucking idiot.
A pitched noise drifts him away from the memory and brings him back into reality. A reality where he and Carlos have not spoken since that day. He hears Darren’s voice cussing something from afar, thick words that Jannik cannot quite comprehend. He tries to stand up, to at least look decent to his coach, but the attempt is disastrous. He thinks about all the times Carlos found him like that and all the times he helped him get on his feet. How could he ruin everything? And for what?
He falls again on the floor, his energy abandoning him definitively. He ironically thinks that if he dies like that, it would be easier to take his body out given how close the exit door is. He mentally high-fives himself for this thought.
He doesn’t know how much time he stays like that before Darren finds him. Time doesn’t make sense to him these days. He would like to curl up in his bed under the blankets and be left there forever. He knows he has a tournament to play, chores to do, people to meet, but today all is stiff and numb, worse than any day.
He idly thinks about the fact that he would like someone to remove the hat he's wearing because he can feel a hitch underneath it. But what’s the point of doing that?
Suddenly, he hears Darren's voice, stifled in his ears. “Jannik”. The tone is between worried and surprised, like he wasn’t expecting to see Jannik in that position in the apartment.
“Uhm… yes” Jannik answers, suddenly aware of how raspy and insecure his voice sounds. He clears his throat and tries again “Yeah, that's me” he forces to smile but he's also aware that the result is not a gratifying one. It feels more like an insincere sneer.
Darren sighs, as if he were used to seeing like that (he was, actually. This kind of behaviour has been quite frequent in the past months, Jannik registers in his brain) “Let’s go showering, you need it. You’re all sweaty”. He comes closer, kneels beside him and gently helps him to his feet.
“I didn’t feel like showering after practice” Jannik murmurs, grateful for the physical support of Darren's body. He feels his head spinning. “I practiced with Carlos” he adds casually. Darren doesn’t say anything, so he feels the urge to go on “He hasn’t even acknowledged my presence or said anything to me”.
Darren nods in his usual paternal way, that makes Jannik feel small. “I know, Simone told me” he quietly replies, his hand not letting go of Jannik’s elbow, driving him toward the shower.
“Will he ever forgive me?” He whines, hating himself for being so vulnerable in front of another person, but his need for reassurance outweighs everything else at the moment.
He doesn’t miss Darren’s hesitance, but in spite of that, he’s grateful for the words that finally come out of his coach’s mouth “He will come around, he just needs time to heal”. He decides to believe him.
Darren gently asks him if he can handle showering by himself. Jannik understands the subtext, the embarrassment that Darren must feel at the idea of showering him. He would like to say that no because, truth to be told, he can’t bear the idea of being alone in the shower or else he will drown in it but he doesn’t want to look even weaker in front of Darren so he slightly tilts his head and murmurs “I’ll be fine”.
“Ok, I’ll be right next door, if you need me” says exiting, careful to leave the door ajar.
He begins to slowly undress, every movement costing him so much energy he feels like an electrical car that needs to be constantly recharged. He stops for a minute after throwing out every item he’s wearing. Socks. Sweater. Pants. T-shirt. Underwear.
When he finally enters the shower, he takes a deep breath, already evaluating all the movements he needs to make the least effort possible. He feels drowned out at the only idea of doing it, yet he does it anyway because he is not a quitter. Although he is. He is a mess, he is a broken toy, a wrecked item that is crumbling apart behind the polite facade he wears every day.
He exits the shower as fast as he can, wraps himself in a rope he finds hanging next to it. He feels knackered. He returns to the living room where Darren is sitting on the sofa, his phone in his hand.
“Can you help me get dressed? I don’t remember where my clothes are”, he winces at the childish sound of his own voice. And once again, he wonders what his coach might think of this situation. But Darren doesn’t even hesitate, he just goes straight to the bedroom and returns with some Nike clothes Jannik registers as his. They quietly dress Jannik. Or better, Darren does everything while Jannik stands there helplessly, too exhausted to move, just hoping to make it to the couch and lie down forever.
They finally sit and Jannik lays his head onto Darren’s hip and again, he despises himself but cannot help it.
Darren awkwardly caresses his hair “Doing a bad thing doesn’t mean you're a bad person, Jannik” he states out of nowhere, using the usual tone he uses when he's giving Jannik suggestions on his game. The same tone Jannik has learned to trust, because Darren sometimes just knows better.
“I’m not good, Darren, I haven’t been for quite some time. It’s not just this moment” Jannik whispers, the consciousness of the moment completely freezing him. He feels in every limb of his body the fear of saying that phrase out loud, but he needs to let it out, he needs his pain to exist out in the open because he cannot bear anymore the loneliness he feels in this journey to hell. Once again, he despises his own needs and weaknesses, but he doesn’t have control over them. It feels like a big black dog is chasing him and he's tired of constantly trying to run away from it because, in the end, it always reaches him eventually and he's left out of breath and shattered.
“I know Jannik. And I’m sorry if I or anyone on the team made you feel like you couldn’t talk to us about that. We noticed that you were struggling sometimes but… on court you seemed fine so I guess we just decided to ignore it. We thought it was something fleeting, perhaps a tantrum”.
Jannik nods “Carlos was the only one who really knew” he softly adds.
“He came to me some weeks ago, telling me to look out for you”
“He did?” Jannik hisses, completely caught off base.
“He didn’t want to tattle, but he was worried for you. That was the moment I realized it was more serious than what I’d thought at the beginning”.
Of course Carlos looked out for him, that’s his thing. Caring for him, even when he doesn’t deserve it. Jannik thinks backwards but he can’t remember a thing about the past weeks, everything seems to be subsumed into a black hole. He doesn’t remember if Darren has changed his behaviour in that timespan and he wishes he could be more attentive to these kinds of details. He wishes he could be a different person.
There's a quiet knock on the door. Darren gets on his feet, leaving Jannik alone on the sofa to open the door. From that position, Jannik cannot see the threshold but he immediately registers the voice of the person on the door. He sits more composed, trying to appear at least presentable even though he’s miserable.
He hears the quick exchange of words.
“Is he here?”
“He is. He's not good though. Please come in”
And then Carlos is in his living room, a lively presence and not the result of some trick he fouled his mind into to feel better.
“Hi” Carlos says simply, a polite smile on his face. Jannik would like to rip that smile into a million pieces, because Carlos never smiles at him like that. When Carlos looks at him, he usually has a joyous look, genuine happiness spreading all over his face, cackling at every word that comes out of Jannik's mouth. Carlos' smile is always broad and contagious, reaching his eyes, making them sparkling and even sweeter. They remind Jannik of the fire pit at his grandpa's house, its warmth on Sunday afternoons, a cup of mulled wine in his hand and a blanket over his legs. They remind him of better times, where his mind was a thriving place and not an enemy to defeat in a war Jannik was absolutely losing.
“Hi Carlos, I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting you” he manages to say, pointing at himself to sort of excuse his messy appearance.
Darren briefly interrupts them before Carlos can say anything “Are you okay?” He checks on Jannik, concern spread all over his face , very different from the steer determination he usually pulls out. Jannik briefly nods, his brain still registering Carlos' presence in his apartment. Of course he's okay, Carlos is there. Darren seems satisfied with the nod because he goes on “Then I'm gonna leave you two to it, I’ll come back later. Please text me before you head out” he says directly to Carlos, squeezing his arm before taking his jacket and leaving them alone for the first time in two weeks, since that happened.
“So how are you?” Carlos asks casually.
Jannik laughs, but his laughter doesn’t sound convincing at all, resembling more like a whining dog “Very good, as you can see, thank you. What about you?” He forces himself to say, even if he’s scared of the words that will come out of the Spaniard. There’s no good answer to that question. A wreck because of what you’ve done? Very good since I don’t have you in my life anymore? Jannik can’t decide which one would be worse. Although, he thinks, the second option may be true.
But Carlos doesn’t address the question. He just points out “I noticed you haven’t showered after practice”.
“I didn’t feel like it” Jannik answers defensively.
Carlos scratches his neck, looking around, as if he's scanning the room to look for a reason to go on. He’s still standing at the entrance of the living room and Jannik notices that his hair is slightly damp. He probably hasn’t dried them after the training session. He’s wearing a coal Nike sweatshirt with his initials embroidered on the sleeves, a detail Jannik knows very well because he spent so many hours cuddled on that sweatshirt. He wonders if it smells like him, if Carlos can feel all the tears Jannik cried through the fabric, all the bad thoughts he fought against during his worst days, huddled in bed against Carlos, when the sole idea of breathing was crashing him, a pounding drum ready to startle him with every beat. He wonders if Carlos can feel what he’s thinking, if he feels his desire to set the sweatshirt on fire, to remove all the dirt he has poisoned it with.
“I'm sorry” Jannik babbles out. “I’m sorry for what I’ve done”. But he’s not sure if he refers to Jack or to the sweatshirt anymore.
Carlos seems surprised “Oh, so we are talking about it”.
“I thought you were here for this reason” Jannik whispers.
“I’m not. You disappeared, so I believed you didn’t want to talk to me about it” Carlos replies so quickly that he stumbles over his own words.
“I thought you hated me so I didn’t text, I didn’t want to invade your space. I figured you wanted to be on your own”.
Carlos grins but his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Jannik can sense he’s bothered by the answer “That’s not a good reason Jannik. Not hearing from you was even worse”
“Oh. I’m sorry”. He can’t believe he messed up this badly . The distance and the stiffness of Carlos’ body feels like a dagger repeatedly stabbing his heart.
“Yeah, you already told me that. But still, you haven’t told me why you did it and what actually happened. Honestly, I don’t understand. I really don’t”. He says, shaking his head.
Jannik can’t explain the truth to Carlos, he is sure he would not understand. But he owes Carlos at least some kind of an explanation, so he goes for a half truth.
“We were both pretty drunk. I know that’s not an excuse and also I know what you’re going to say, but I didn’t take my meds that day, I was feeling good - yes, very poor choice”. He stops for a bit because talking is a very demanding activity that drains him. Carlos doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t try to fill the gaps of the conversation. He just stays still - a thing that must be very difficult for him - looking at Jannik, waiting for him to go on.
He takes a deep breath and finds the strength to go on: “We were dancing, he started getting closer and I didn’t move away because everything was feeling dizzy and I didn’t want to think about how miserable I was… I am, I mean” another pause “Anyway, he kissed me and I didn’t reject him, I honestly don’t know why, so we started kissing even more and then you caught us”.
“That’s it?”
“Yes” Jannik nods.
“Were you going back to the hotel when I bumped into you?” Carlos tentatively asks.
“Carlos…” Jannik would like to be absorbed by the sofa or struck by a giant cosmical meteor rather than admitting that he was, indeed, going back to the hotel with Jack.
“Jannik”. Carlos cannot let this go. He won’t.
He takes some time to answer, pretty sure that silence already gives it away “Yes” he murmurs eventually, lowering his gaze. He can’t bear the idea of looking Carlos in the eyes.
“Why? Why him?” the voice revealing all the anguish he’s experiencing.
Jannik notes how this conversation is not difficult just for him, but for Carlos as well. Carlos has always been the emotional one, the kind of person who doesn’t hide what he feels or pretend that emotions are something to be ashamed of. He always carries his feelings openly, allowing others to see all of him, his joy, his frustration, his love, and most of all his vulnerability. While some people are taught to mask their feelings or keep them guarded, Carlos has always believed that honesty about emotions is the highest show of courage. So different from Jannik’s approach. Seeing him crushed like that, knowing he’s the reason behind all that pain , is stinging him like a thousand cuts.
“Because Jack is the only one who prefers me” Jannik says eventually, like the answer is as clear as day..
“What?” Carlos replies, very confused now.
“He… for some reason he likes me better and he prefers being with me rather than with you”.
“You kissed Jack because he likes being with you more than with me? Are you fucking nuts?” Carlos is losing his mind .
Jannik is not so sure of his motives anymore. He really fucked this up. He tries to explain “I… kind of feel special when I’m with him. I know it’s not an excuse, I’m just trying to explain why I did it. I know you won’t understand, I am hardly understanding myself these days. But this is it”.
“Do you know how difficult it is for me right now to not send you to hell and storm out? I am trying to be the bigger person here, but holy hell!”
“You don’t have to pity me because I’m depressed, Carlos. You can say things to my face” Jannik blurts out, annoyance creeping across his face, giving his cheeks a slight blush.
To those words, Carlos grins in a way that makes Jannik second-guess himself, because this time, his smile feels ruthless, a knife’s blade poised to sever at just the right place.
“The one thing I’ve never done is pitying you, Jannik. If you don’t know that by now I am not sure what we are talking about here.”
“But you’re here because you didn’t see me showering after the practice”
“Because I fucking care about you Jannik!” the Spaniard starts screaming “but apparently even caring for you is not enough. You prefer to just disappear to leave me space, don’t you?”.
“I’m sorry, I was not in a good state when I did that. I haven’t been since we last spoke, you know that” Jannik bleakly tries to justify himself.
“Don’t fucking pull the depressed card on me Jannik” then he stops for an amount of time that feels unbearable.
All of a sudden, Carlos locks eyes with him and starts to speak again, apparently much calmer than before, as if he saw something in his eyes that instantly softened his soul “Yes, you’re depressed Jannik but that’s not an excuse for every bullshit you do in life. Sometimes you act like an asshole and depression has nothing to do with it. Like this time”.
He takes a deep breath, summoning all his good will, before continuing “I cared for you when you could not even stand up by yourself. I was the one that cleaned your room when you had no force to do it. I stayed in bed with you for days, to be sure you’d eat and just survive . I’m not saying that to rub it in your face or because I want something in return, but because I love you and you fucking know it. And what do you do instead? You sell me some bullshit about being Jack's favourite as if it were a competition. You don’t feel cared or loved enough by me? Did I do something wrong? If I did, I am sorry, but there is honestly no excuse for what you’ve done. You were perfectly aware of what we are to each other and of the possible consequences of your actions, don’t try and tell me otherwise”
Jannik has never felt smaller. Because of course Carlos is right, he remembers perfectly thinking about the consequences of his own actions and closing that tiny box on a shelf in the back of his brain.
“I know you love me Carlos. I love you too, you know it. But…” he feels worn out.
“But what?”
There. There lies the words he's too afraid to say out loud. “Jack made me feel normal. Like I was not broken. Because he has no idea how much I’m struggling. I could pretend to be someone else for once. Someone who is worthy of love”.
Carlos cannot believe what he’s hearing.“You're not broken, Jannik” Carlos says, certain of his words, fierceness propagating from his body.
“You don’t have to lie” Jannik tries to make himself as small as possible.
Carlos’ voice softens all of a sudden “I’m not. You're hurting, for sure. But that doesn’t mean you’re broken or that you don’t deserve love. You're worthy of love, Jannik”. He squats down to meet Jannik’s gaze, a hand on his thigh. It’s their first contact since weeks, Jannik realizes. As soon as Carlos touches him, hee feels a shiver down his spine, stunned by the easiness of that contact. The sense of relief he feels in his bones is almost insufferable.
He would very much like to cry in that moment because Carlos can’t see his rotten parts even now, after everything he put him through. He feels his eyes filling with tears . “I messed things up with you so badly though”.
“Yes, you were an asshole. But again, that doesn’t mean you’re broken. It just means that you made some poor choices. I mean, not that poor because we all can see Jack is hot as hell, for sure. You already had hottie number one, so you had to go for the second best, you competitive brat” Carlos seems to deflect, all the anger passed by like a summer storm, the sun glimmering lazily from afar.
Jannik cannot help but chuckle, a tiny spark spreading across his heart for the first time in a long time.
“Jack is a very good kisser” Jannik goofs off .
“I’m still not there. Nice try though”. He smiles slightly and this time, his eyes sparkle with joy.
“Copied”
They stay quiet for a little time. “Will you ever forgive me?” Jannik would like to ask him, but he has a paralysing fear of discovering the answer tothat question, too afraid of finding out for sure he has driven Carlos too far away.
He must have said it out loud after all, because he hears Carlos saying “I already forgave you or else I would not be here. I still need some time though, to let this go. You know how I feel about Jack”.
He sits on the floor and places his head on Jannik’s thigh, looking at the Italian from below, his jet-black lashes a feathered fringe scrutinising the other one.
Jannik tangles his fingers into Carlos’ hair, the urge to lock this moment repressed by the thought that it could vanish any time.
He would like to keep the sensation of warmth he feels blossoming in his heart to use it during his worst days. He would like to be able to remember this fleeting moment between them and turn it into a keepsake to look at in his darkest days, to remind himself that hope exists, that life isn’t just the relentless, constant cosmic void he feels in his stomach, that weighs so heavily on him he can’t figure a way out cause that emptiness is pulling him in, and he's too tired to fight it.
And if he had the strength, he’d want to cry, scream, laugh, do anything that would make him believe this moment is real and not just a figment of his imagination. But Jannik is weak, so he just stays still, afraid that doing anything might ruin it all, too afraid to find out that this encounter doesn’t exist in the real world, but only in his mind, just a trick played by his brain, which knows him all too well and constantly brings him down, leaving him on the ground, defenseless and hopeless. But the Spaniard is really there, Jannik can feel the heaviness of his head on his leg.
Carlos deposits a kiss on his thigh and murmurs “I could stay like this forever”.
Jannik feels the same but he’s parched from the lack of contact of the past days and instantly surrenders to the inevitability of what is going to happen next, folding himself to get closer to Carlos’ lips. “I am not sure what I’d do without you” he whispers to him, their lips finally touching.
Jannik doesn’t know much, but he does know that he cannot lose him. That if there is a way out of this thing that is eating him alive, that goes through the incredible man he is now pinning on the floor, skin on skin. That he loves him more than he loves himself, and that could to be enough.
At least for now.