Chapter Text
Isaac knows he's being silly, but he can't help it. A bad day on the bike happens, but losing the white jersey to Juan, of all people, is a lot more painful than he expected.
Tadej, reliably even-tempered at the finish, had waited and comforted him, but it didn't last long until the dark cloud returned. The ease of Tadej's wins, as much as he is happy for him, makes his own mistakes seem so much bigger. He knows Tadej won't look at him differently. He knows. Well. He's almost sure.
Still, his feet carry him through the post-stage chaos for one quick chat away from the rest of the team. He's certain that he saw a yellow sleeve disappear between some buses in a quieter area just a few feet ahead.
He stops dead in his tracks when he hears his name up ahead.
"Isaac is right, you don't even try. You don't care anymore!" Isaac almost does not recognize Tadej's voice, anger sounding strange and unfamiliar on his lips. He can't see Tadej or who he's talking to, but the context made this clear already before Tadej starts again: "They say you'll quit. That you won't make it to Paris. Tell me that's not true!"
Jonas' voice is lower and further away, so Isaac can only make out the words because they are sharp and punctuated.
"Of course I'll make it to Paris. And maybe I'll win after you crashed on a stupid, dangerous descent because you just had to put - every - bloody - second - into me that you possibly could."
Silence follows.
Isaac forgets to breathe, but when nothing else happens, he finally moves, as quietly as possible, afraid of what he might see.
He did not expect Jonas and Tadej locked in a tight hug, eyes closed, oblivious to the anything but the two of them. Tadej's back shakes softly, and Jonas holds him like the world is about to end.
"Let's just get through this ridiculous month, okay? We can do it..." he whispers.
Tadej's answer is just a sound, lost in the fabric of Jonas' jersey.
Isaac steps backwards, literally, still trying not to make a noise. He's still facing the buses when Tadej comes out, clearly startled and puts an arm around his shoulders. He turns him around, maybe just a tiny bit more forcefully than absolutely necessary.
"Hey, were you looking for me? What's wrong? Not upset about White, are you? We'll get it back, champ!" Tadej pokes his side playfully, but Isaac can see the strain in his eyes now. He wouldn't have before.
"Maybe... A bit," Isaac admits. But he does not feel like talking about his own worries anymore. "What were you doing here?" he asks instead.
"Uhm..." Tadej frowns for just a microsecond. "Talking to people. Debriefing. Nothing... unusual."
Isaac looks straight into his eyes and he's sure Tadej is not actually lying. He puts his hand softly on Tadej's back as they walk back towards the team bus.