tennis slash - Please Don't Stop the Rain
Title: Please Don’t Stop the Rain
Author: Kris S.
Fandom: Tennis RPS
Pairing: Novak Djokovic/Ernests Gulbis
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: This did not happen.
Summary: It’s a good thing Ernie believes him. Too bad Novak doesn’t believe himself anymore.
Author’s Note: So I was writing a bunch of fic based off Roger's loss while the Djokovic/Roddick match was on, when the announcers relayed the following quote, “I was born in the wrong time.” I had assumed Andy said that (Roger has certainly given reason to believe he’d say that) but it was actually Novak. Considering he’s the only one of the young guns to win a Grand Slam, I was shocked he’s gotten that down about his game. This ended up jumping ahead of that fic - don't dispair, it will get written, especially if there's a new #2 by the end of today :)
Novak is supposed to be the one to offer comfort. He knows that Ernie is struggling mightily just to win a match against anybody. Ernie needs to hear that everything will turn around soon. Novak reminds him there was a time when Jelena lost something like ten matches in a row but was able to turn it around.
It’s a good thing Ernie believes him. Too bad Novak doesn’t believe himself anymore.
When he won the Australian, everything seemed possible for him. It was only a year and a half ago. Everybody found him entertaining no matter what he did.
Nothing has been right since. That should have been the time when he seriously challenged Roger and Rafa. Instead, they both passed him, leaving the dust behind. With each loss, more players challenge. He’s helpless as he sees how imposing both Andys and Juan Martin have become to the top two, an element that isn’t quite there for him at this time.
He’s not considered a serious threat in the big matches right now and Novak can understand why.
He wants to be able to tell somebody what’s going on in his head but there’s nobody. Sure, there are people around but Novak can’t find the words even if the right person is there. There are energetic voices in his corner but he’s no longer motivated by them.
It feels so good to have Ernie in his arms, Novak’s chin resting on top of Ernie’s head, but realistically he can’t comprehend this pressure. They were supposed to be rivals and it’s just not that way. They’re supposed to be so close but, even when they’re in the same room, he feels miles away.
Novak is supposed to be the life of the party but he would rather just shut the music off and tell everyone to leave. He’s tired of the jokes he’s supposed to make, tired of being the joke like the whole fashion show mess that wasn’t supposed to be the official advertising for the event, just tired of the noise.
He shuts his eyes, wanting to keep Ernie in this spot and assuring him. Needing to feel that at least one thing hasn’t left him, even when his forehand, his serve, his mind has flown home for an early vacation.
Novak doesn’t hear it the first time, or the second for that matter, but a light shove into his stomach followed by, “I shouldn’t have to ask you a third time.”
“Sorry. What?”
“Are you okay?”
Novak is sure that’s not what Ernie said. This question he can answer automatically. “Fine.”
“I asked,” Novak knows Ernie is rolling his eyes as he stresses that word. “Do you think I’m a child?”
“No, of course not.”
“I’m not an emotional wreck. It’s just been tough lately.”
“I know.”
“Yeah, I know you know. It’s okay to let go. At least for me.” Ernie’s hands push Novak down on the couch, the sudden move startling. Novak doesn’t have a chance to hide the tired look that’s been lingering for a long time. Ernie hovers over, his face suddenly so close, needing to feel lips against his skin. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes.”
“Then please tell the truth. What’s going on with you?”
Novak closes his eyes, trying to block out everything he wants but can’t deal with right now. There’s a soft touch brushing his cheek, compelling him to face the wide brown eyes wanting to take in every emotion.
Normally, Novak is very good at words. Meaningless words. Words that are meant to entertain. Words that deflect the truth. He doesn’t know how to phrase what he’s feeling - it always seems to come out wrong and prone to misinterpretation.
Novak shakes his head, his mouth moving but stopping and starting with worthless sounds. Ernie gives a slight smile, then squeezes in sideways between Novak’s body and the cushion of the couch, his hand resting on Novak’s chest. The quickening heartbeat right under the fingers, soft touches shifting the fabric over his skin.
The silence seems comfortable and Novak is able to relax his breathing. After several minutes, Ernie’s voice is barely above a whisper, not wanting to disturb the moment. “You don’t need to say a word. I’m here.”
Author: Kris S.
Fandom: Tennis RPS
Pairing: Novak Djokovic/Ernests Gulbis
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: This did not happen.
Summary: It’s a good thing Ernie believes him. Too bad Novak doesn’t believe himself anymore.
Author’s Note: So I was writing a bunch of fic based off Roger's loss while the Djokovic/Roddick match was on, when the announcers relayed the following quote, “I was born in the wrong time.” I had assumed Andy said that (Roger has certainly given reason to believe he’d say that) but it was actually Novak. Considering he’s the only one of the young guns to win a Grand Slam, I was shocked he’s gotten that down about his game. This ended up jumping ahead of that fic - don't dispair, it will get written, especially if there's a new #2 by the end of today :)
Novak is supposed to be the one to offer comfort. He knows that Ernie is struggling mightily just to win a match against anybody. Ernie needs to hear that everything will turn around soon. Novak reminds him there was a time when Jelena lost something like ten matches in a row but was able to turn it around.
It’s a good thing Ernie believes him. Too bad Novak doesn’t believe himself anymore.
When he won the Australian, everything seemed possible for him. It was only a year and a half ago. Everybody found him entertaining no matter what he did.
Nothing has been right since. That should have been the time when he seriously challenged Roger and Rafa. Instead, they both passed him, leaving the dust behind. With each loss, more players challenge. He’s helpless as he sees how imposing both Andys and Juan Martin have become to the top two, an element that isn’t quite there for him at this time.
He’s not considered a serious threat in the big matches right now and Novak can understand why.
He wants to be able to tell somebody what’s going on in his head but there’s nobody. Sure, there are people around but Novak can’t find the words even if the right person is there. There are energetic voices in his corner but he’s no longer motivated by them.
It feels so good to have Ernie in his arms, Novak’s chin resting on top of Ernie’s head, but realistically he can’t comprehend this pressure. They were supposed to be rivals and it’s just not that way. They’re supposed to be so close but, even when they’re in the same room, he feels miles away.
Novak is supposed to be the life of the party but he would rather just shut the music off and tell everyone to leave. He’s tired of the jokes he’s supposed to make, tired of being the joke like the whole fashion show mess that wasn’t supposed to be the official advertising for the event, just tired of the noise.
He shuts his eyes, wanting to keep Ernie in this spot and assuring him. Needing to feel that at least one thing hasn’t left him, even when his forehand, his serve, his mind has flown home for an early vacation.
Novak doesn’t hear it the first time, or the second for that matter, but a light shove into his stomach followed by, “I shouldn’t have to ask you a third time.”
“Sorry. What?”
“Are you okay?”
Novak is sure that’s not what Ernie said. This question he can answer automatically. “Fine.”
“I asked,” Novak knows Ernie is rolling his eyes as he stresses that word. “Do you think I’m a child?”
“No, of course not.”
“I’m not an emotional wreck. It’s just been tough lately.”
“I know.”
“Yeah, I know you know. It’s okay to let go. At least for me.” Ernie’s hands push Novak down on the couch, the sudden move startling. Novak doesn’t have a chance to hide the tired look that’s been lingering for a long time. Ernie hovers over, his face suddenly so close, needing to feel lips against his skin. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes.”
“Then please tell the truth. What’s going on with you?”
Novak closes his eyes, trying to block out everything he wants but can’t deal with right now. There’s a soft touch brushing his cheek, compelling him to face the wide brown eyes wanting to take in every emotion.
Normally, Novak is very good at words. Meaningless words. Words that are meant to entertain. Words that deflect the truth. He doesn’t know how to phrase what he’s feeling - it always seems to come out wrong and prone to misinterpretation.
Novak shakes his head, his mouth moving but stopping and starting with worthless sounds. Ernie gives a slight smile, then squeezes in sideways between Novak’s body and the cushion of the couch, his hand resting on Novak’s chest. The quickening heartbeat right under the fingers, soft touches shifting the fabric over his skin.
The silence seems comfortable and Novak is able to relax his breathing. After several minutes, Ernie’s voice is barely above a whisper, not wanting to disturb the moment. “You don’t need to say a word. I’m here.”