Chapter Text
Paris 2009
If I never knew you, I'd be safe but half as real
Never knowing I could feel a love so strong and true
“I'm so sorry...”
Roger has a hard time finding his own voice when he says the meaningless words and he knows they aren't helping. He can see it in the way Rafa's shoulders tense and in the way he draws in a shaky breath, trying to compose himself. They are at the French Open again, just the two of them in the locker room, mercifully alone and Rafa has just lost his 4th round match against Robin Söderling. The reality of that having happened still has to sink in. For now Rafa is very much lost and very much devastated and it's a reaction Roger can wholeheartedly sympathize with.
Roger actually debated going to see the younger man. They haven't talked much since their fallout at Indian Wells and they have spent even less time together. Rafa has won three of the four clay court tournaments he has played up until now. The last one however, the one in Madrid, that one was Roger's victory and the two sets one and a half hour match still feels a little anticlimatic. They shared a brief exchange at the net and Rafa has once again managed to be gracious in defeat but that feeling Roger has bee having ever since they returned from Melbourne that something is off about Rafa has reared it's head again in Madrid.
Now that sentiment is even stronger and here in Paris it has caught up to Rafa in the worst possible moment, costing him a match and a chance at another French Open title. It's an outcome nobody believed in – Rafa most definitely included – and still it doesn't exactly come as a surprise. Being closed off and negative and at odds with oneself has to take a toll at some point. Rafa has been all of those things in the last couple of months and today he has paid the price for tit. Something had to give and now that's exactly what happens.
The few words Roger has to offer in comfort here in the privacy of the locker room and who Rafa probably doesn't even want to here are a reverse of a conversation they have had here in this very room four years ago pretty much to the date and this time it is actually Roger's turn to tell Rafa that he is sorry for his loss here at the French Open. It seems a bit surreal to be honest and Rafa has yet to react to his words or his presence in some way. Despite knowing better, Roger steps up to the younger man, hoping against hope that finally this time Rafa will actually confide in him. .
“Are you okay? Are you hurting?”
“Knees always hurt. Is just a little bit worse today...”
“It's not just that though, right? There's more?”
Actually gaining confidence from the fact that Rafa doesn't avert the question about his physical health, Roger presses on. Maybe it's the vulnerability Raa feels right now or the onslaught of emotion but it seems the younger man actually wishes for a chance to talk to somebody and express how he feels. Otherwise Roger cannot explain why the Spaniard is speaking to him now, where he hasn't before for months on end. It's the right moment to pry and this time Roger is actually rewarded for his insistence. Rafa nods but avoids actually looking at him.
“Si.”
“You don't have to tell me...”
Actually it's not that Roger doesn't want to push. It's that he has heard rumors about what has been bothering Rafa ever since Melbourne, rumors about his parents, about a divorce that has been in the making for a while now... He doesn't need Rafa to say it out loud, not if he doesn't want to. They finally seem to be on better terms again, with a little bit more trust shared between them and Roger doesn't want to throw that away by pushing Rafa too far and making him retreat instead of open up to him yet again. But his worries are unnecessary. It seems saying it out loud, having somebody to confide in, is actually what Rafa wants and needs in that particular moment in time.
“Is my family... My parents. They...”
Rafa stops mid explanation, struggling for the right word in a language that isn't his native tongue. Roger can see the frustration shine through at Rafa's inability to express himself properly. Finally he resorts to hand gestures, making a motion with both hands, holding them together and then moving them into different directions. Hadn't he already heard the rumors before, Roger would understand now... But even knowing, seeing the younger man, seeing the expression on his face and the stiffness of his posture and the moisture in his eyes when he explains, it still manages to break Roger's heart.
“They separated?”
Rafa nods and doesn't look at him while doing it. Now that the truth has finally been verbalized and Roger has been given an explanation for Rafa's rather odd behavior over the course of the last couple of months, he should probably feel calmer and a little surer about himself. But he doesn't. Quite frankly he feels even worse than before. He wants Rafa to be okay, wants him to be happy but there isn't a damn thing he can do to make that happen... Rafa actually apologizing to him now only manages to make matters words and Roger hurries to soothe the younger man's apprehension.
“I... sorry for California, Rogi. Sorry for sending you away.”
“It's okay. I understand. You had a lot to deal with...”
Rafa doesn't reply to that, doesn't really need to. Now that Roger knows the truth about the family situation that has Rafa feeling so at odds with himself and the rest of the world for months now, he is fully understanding of every last thing Rafa has said or done to him that has felt offending and unfair up until now. When Rafa changes the subject, Roger feels quite glad about it. However the topic Rafa chooses is not exactly an easy one either.
“You win, Rogi. Mh? For me?”
It sounds like a question, like a plea but even though Rafa sounds desperate and heartbroken, Roger knows better than to allow himself to be fooled by the Spaniard's tone of voice. It is very much a demand, a task for him to accomplish. If he can't be victorious himself, Rafa want Roger to be the one to prevail here. It's not as easily done as that though and as much as Roger wants the trophy and title here, he can hardly make any promises. Tennis doesn't work like that and Rafa knows that. Today however he doesn't seem to care.
“I'll try.”
“No try. You win.”
“Okay. I'll win.”
It's a hollow promise and they both are very much aware of it. But it's what Rafa needs to hear at this moment and Roger has never been particularly good at denying Rafa the things he wants. He isn't going to start today – not in a situation where the younger man is so utterly vulnerable. Rafa nods at him, appreciation showing on his saddened face with the red rimmed eyes for the briefest of moments before he averts his gaze again, looking back to the ground. He still looks defeated and lost but it's not as heartbreaking to see as before. Maybe it would be best if Roger left now. But he can't. There is one more thing he needs to say. One more thing for Rafa to know.
“Rafa?”
The younger man turns up his face to him again at the mention of his name and Roger feels his mouth run dry. Maybe it's the wrong moment, maybe it's better to wait... But then again he has been waiting for the better part of a year and what better moment than to say something true and meaningful than this, where Rafa can certainly use every last word of support and comfort and appreciation that Roger can give? The Swiss gathers all the courage he can find within himself, keeping an intense gaze on the Spaniard while he speaks the three little words he has been meaning to tell Rafa for quite a long while now.
“I love you.”
Rafa blushes a little at the confession and then the softest of smiles plays on his lips. He nods and reacts with a reply in his native tongue. Roger however doesn't need a translation to understand and the sincerity to the words, the sheer amount of emotions and the smile lighting up Rafa's face even in that awful and bitter moment he is going through right now, it tells Roger everything he needs to know. Even if he was deaf, he would know exactly what Rafa's words are conveying.
“Te amo también.”
*#*
Shanghai 2018
Somewhere something is calling for you
Two worlds, one family
Trust your heart, let fate decide to guide these lives we see
It's just like at Wimbledon. Fate is denying them this year. Had they been able to both make it all the way through the tournament and bring about a repeat of that epic final of 2008 at it's ten year anniversary, Roger is sure the enormity of that would have made them more lenient towards one another. They would have reconciled right there and then. But another Wimbledon final for both of them hadn't happened. Instead neither one of them had been in that final.
Now Shanghai has been the tournament for them to finally reconcile and see each other face to face instead of using text messages and phone calls to reinstate a little bit of contact. But it isn't to happen. Rafa is still resting and recuperating and Roger is here – half a world a way and without the Spaniard. He’s still in a bad mood because of that and obviously it shows because barely anyone dares to approach or talk to him.
The memory of Rafa calling to tell him that there is no way he will be playing the Asian swing is still vivid in Roger’s mind. It’s a bittersweet memory. Of course he is devastated at the news and he worries about the Spaniard. But Rafa tells him before there is any official statement. Barely even a month ago, Roger would have found out through some press release that Rafa is still injured. Now they talk again. Even though it’s not good news… Roger especially remembers the tail end of their conversation… Rafa had apologized to him… Of course he had and somehow Roger had tried to see a spark of hope in the situation.
“I’m sorry, Rogi…”
“No, don’t be. You need to do what’s best for you. Forcing anything isn’t going to help you and it certainly isn’t healthy for you.”
“I know. But it’s hard. I wanted to be there. I wanted to see you.”
“Maybe Paris then. It’s not that far off…”
“It’s two months, Rogi.”
“We’ll manage. We always do.”
Roger still firmly believes they will manage – even if it takes another four weeks now before they get a chance to finally see each other and talk in person. They have established a steady line of communication with texting and frequent phone calls over the course of the last four weeks. It's not enough, not by a long shot, but they have spent so much time apart, Roger tries to convince himself that another four weeks of waiting is nothing in comparison to the year it has – almost – taken them to come back together.
Roger returns from his first practice session at the tournament grounds and he still is in a bit of a funky mood. Nothing is exactly different so far. It's not like he would usually see Rafa during practice. But the knowledge that the other man simply isn't there and won't be for the rest of the tournament still weighs on his mind. He stops by the reception on his way to his hotel room and the receptionist gives him a discreet , professional smile and points to one of the lounge areas in the hotel lobby when she talks to him.
“You have a visitor.”
Roger frowns at her and is almost sure there is some sort of misunderstanding or problem with a language barrier. He is in China after all. But he decides to give the young, female receptionist the benefit of the doubt and turns to look. He blinks and for a second he is sure he has fallen into one of his wishful daydreams. He mumbles a 'thank you' to the receptionist and his feet carry him over to the lounge area without a conscious thought. That dreamlike feeling doesn't vanish and it only increases when his visitor smiles and greets him in an almost sheepish tone of voice as Roger approaches.
“Hi.”
“Rafa what… But you said you wouldn't play here?!”
Roger still isn't sure he is awake and not dreaming this whole thing. But this is indeed reality and Rafa is really here and smiling at him. Roger doesn't trust his voice and he trust his legs even less. He drops down in one of the comfortable armchairs opposite of Rafa and simply stares at the younger man, waiting for the Spaniard to explain himself. Rafa is still smiling and nodding in response, explaining his being here.
“I won't. I can't. But I told you I try to be here. And that I can do. I can be here in Shanghai... with you.”
“So you came all this way only for me?”
“Not officially, no. Officially I have a sponsorship thing I couldn’t get out of.”
“And unofficially?”
“I’m here for you… and me. So we can be together.”
Roger nods, slowly, carefully, still trying to make sense of this whole thing happening here. Rafa is still smiling and Roger still has a hard time believing the younger man is here, as promised and for them to finally have a chance to be with one another. A sudden feeling of urgency grabs a hold of the Swiss and he decides to be practical instead of dumbfounded. Rafa grins in response to the questions and there is an undeniable cheekiness to his tone of voice.
“Do you… have a room?”
“Yes. But I don’t need to use it…”
Roger picks up on the unspoken request and invitation in Rafa's words and they leave the lobby and go up to Roger's room. They don't speak, only share very passionate and very expressive looks and by the time they are through the door and it clicks closed behind them, they are already kissing and taking each other's clothes of more stumbling than walking over to where Roger's bedroom is. It's a frenzy of instinct and emotion and even though they both know they should talk first and share this kind of passion later, they still end up in bed together.
Afterwards they are both sweaty and naked and utterly exhausted. Above everything else they are satisfied and happy. Roger can't stop watching the younger man, his bronze skin glistening with the sweat coating it and he can't even begin to fathom how they ever managed to be apart for so long. Maybe it's the satisfaction or the fact that he gets to be with Rafa even though he never expected it or because he gets to see the man in all his glory and without anyone else holding any claim to him. But Roger has almost forgotten why they have ever been apart.
“Why on earth did we fight again?”
“Because Domi and Sascha were idiots and you had a… meltdown.”
Rafa says it in the same relaxed, no care in the world, happy and cheeky tone that Roger has used but in his elation about their physical encounter for the first time in almost a year, he manages to say exactly the wrong thing. He isn't aware of it, isn't aware his words hit a nerve, at least not until the Swiss sits up in bed abruptly and pulls the sheet from the foot of the bed to cover himself. He feels exposed all of a sudden and he does not want to have this discussion without any clothes on. And there will be a discussion – definitely – though Rafa doesn't seem aware of it yet.
“I did not have a meltdown!”
“A little one.”
“Okay. Maybe I did have a little meltdown. But you were the most stubborn, resentful, pigheaded bastard I ever had to deal with. You were determined not to make the first step…”
Roger knows he is being more than just a little aggressive. But it's not uncalled for – he wholeheartedly believes in that. Rafa certainly doesn't share his opinion. Just like the Swiss, Rafa doesn't like the fact that he is entirely undressed and exposed. He sits up, reaches beside the bed and picks his underwear up from the ground, slipping into it, before he half turns to look at Roger again, shrugging his shoulders in response.
“Break-up wasn’t my idea.”
“It was not a break-up. It was a break!”
“No difference.”
“There’s a huge difference!”
“Not to me.”
“Obviously.”
Their discussion has turned into a full fledged fight all of a sudden. Both of them are angry, both of them are holding onto their grudge, both of them are staring at the other, neither one of them willing to break eye contact and blink first. It's almost like a showdown at noon in some cheap Western movie... And then something happens that is entirely different from the last time they have been here in Shanghai fighting about their relationship. This time Rafa is not stubborn and relentlessly holding on to his pride. This time he doesn't tell Roger to leave him alone until he seems it the right moment for them to talk to one another again. This time Rafa smiles and looks at Roger ruefully. And it helps – it helps deescalate the situation and it helps to calm Roger down again. He even manages a smile.
“I do it again, no? Be stubborn?”
“Yes. And it’s infuriating. But then again without that you wouldn’t be you… And I was doing it again too, having a little meltdown. I’m sorry…”
“It’s okay. This time we talk. This time we don’t run and hide from one another. Okay?”
“I’m more than okay with that.”
- FIN -