Fic-Post: Key (Swimming RPS)
Title: Key
Pairing: Ryan Lochte/Michael Phelps
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 4,312
Summary: Ryan and Michael run into each other at the Superbowl
Disclaimer: I don't think so
Author's Note: at the end
“Dude, what?!”
Ryan is sitting at the kitchen table in his mother’s house, fork stopped midway to his mouth, staring at Devon and Brandon sitting across from him.
“I’m just saying. You, me, Brandon. Weekend in New Orleans. Superbowl. With a team we like actually playing.”
“If you wanna go to the Superbowl, I’ll buy you the fucking tickets.”
“You know as well as I do that mom won’t let Brandon and me go on our own. And unless you wanna spend a small fortune on some probably fake black market tickets, without you there with us, we won’t even get in.” Devon reasons. “Don’t be an asshole, come on.”
“I’m not being an asshole, I just don’t wanna go to the Superbowl.”
“Who doesn’t wanna go to the Superbowl?” Brandon chimes in.
“I don’t. Besides, I have practice.”
“Like you give a shit about practice, dude.” Devon interjects again. “You just don’t wanna go because Michael’s gonna be there.”
At that, Ryan just fixes Devon with an icy stare. His lips form a thin line, his eyes darken and if looks could kill, Devon may as well fall off his chair right then.
Ryan takes a deep breath, before standing up and taking his plate. “Fuck you, Dev.” he growls before leaving the kitchen.
Ileana Lochte is flipping through a magazine, but looks up when Ryan flops down on the couch next to her and picks up eating again without saying a word.
“All good?”
“Devon and Brandon are idiots.” Ryan huffs.
“Is this because of the Superbowl?”
“Have they reeled you in as well?”
“They mentioned it.”
Ryan sighs. “I don’t wanna go, mom.” He scoots down and drops his head on her shoulder.
Ileana pats his arm. “They’re your brothers, Ryan. They wanna spend some time with you.”
“I know, but like, does it have to be there? Can’t I just take them to Vegas?”
“Don’t you even dare!” Ileana threatens, making Ryan laugh momentarily.
“I don’t wanna see him.” Ryan admits.
“I know, honey. But -”
“Please don’t finish this sentence.”
Ileana ignores him. “But I think it’d be good if you went. And I think it’d be good if you talked to Michael.”
Ryan snorts. “Good for who?”
“Both of you. You’ve been a part of each other’s lives for too long. I’m not saying be what you two used to be again. Just try to find a way that lets you be in the same room with each other. As for you,” she slightly pinches Ryan’s arm. “Don’t get in a fight with your brothers just because you don’t want to see Michael. They’re your brothers, he is just Michael.”
Ryan wants to protest and say that nothing about Michael is, was or will ever be just. Those are two opposite ends of one very large spectrum. But then Ryan remembers something he’s said to Devon many times when he wanted to hang out with his girlfriend instead of with Ryan. ‘Blood is thicker than jizz.’ And that’s when he knows he’s doomed, even though he knows that the statement itself isn’t even true. At least he doesn’t think it is, he hasn’t tested it yet.
“Okay fine!” he yells into the general direction of the kitchen, “We’re going to the Superbowl, you douchebags!”
The only reply he gets are two excited yells and what sounds like a very enthusiastic high-five.
Ryan spends the following week putting together what he hopes is a foolproof plan to avoid Michael Phelps at any costs. He asks to skip two days of practice so they can drive to New Orleans and back instead of taking a plane and maybe running into Michael at the airport, even when he knows it won’t happen, because Michael’s is gonna use a private jet. He makes sure that the hotel room they’re getting is at a place Michael won’t step a foot into. He even contemplates asking if they could maybe get tickets for a VIP Box of the 49ers, but that seems to take it a step too far and Devon and Brandon are never going to forgive him either. Besides, Michael’s probably going to be right at the sideline anyway. And Ryan knows he’s being paranoid and crazy, but the risk of being confronted with Michael Phelps isn’t one he feels like taking. At least and especially not now.
So with all the work that went into planning their Superbowl-trip, Ryan feels safe when they all throw their bags in the car and he starts driving. They joke around, play stupid games and yell along to whatever song’s coming out of the speakers and for a while, Ryan actually forgets about where they’re going and what might happen once they get there.
They get to New Orleans and they go out for dinner to a small place where the waitress calls them names like ‘Sugarmuffin’ and pinches Brandon’s cheeks. They wander through the French Quarter and buy some presents for their mom and at night, they all watch a movie on Devon’s laptop. At some point, they fall asleep one after another in a pile on the mattress without having a care in the world.
When Ryan wakes up on Sunday morning to the sounds of Devon singing out of tune in the shower, all the easiness from the past evening is completely gone. He suddenly feels tense and anxious, as if his subconscious knows that Michael is somewhere not too far away from them and that the chances of accidentally bumping into him are dangerously high. Even at some place as huge as a football stadium.
In the afternoon, Devon puts a Ravens jersey on him and Brandon produces a Ravens-beanie out of nowhere and Ryan just stands there like in a trance, letting his brothers use him as a dress-up doll. He feels like he is in one of those movies or TV-shows where people get paralyzed by some drugs, but still notice everything going on around them, but they’re just not able to do anything against it and they can’t yell at anyone to stop either.
They’re walking part of the way to the stadium, Devon and Brandon talking animatedly about this or that player or maybe some statistics or maybe even a pending zombie attack, for all Ryan knows. He doesn’t really listen because he is too busy checking their surroundings if maybe he sees an all too familiar plaid shirt and he overhears strangers talking to each other, hoping that the low voice with the slight lisp may not be one of them.
He’s never been nervous before one of his races. Or maybe ever. ‘Nervous’ is not a state of mind Ryan is very familiar with. And if it’s just half as whatever he’s feeling right now, he is pretty damn glad about that. Because this uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach is definitely something he wouldn’t want to deal with right before he’s about to race. It’s feels like someone attached an iron ball and chain to his insides and he can’t really focus on anything, except how hard it is to just be his normal self.
They get into the stadium and they get shown to their seats in the still half-empty VIP-Box and it just starts to click with Ryan where he is when he gets handed his first beer. He looks over at Devon and Brandon who take one picture after the other and talk so fast that it’s difficult to understand what they’re saying in the first place. Ryan leans back in his seat and enjoys the view and realizes for the first time that damn, he’s actually at the Superbowl. Again. He’s got to a place in life where he can take his brothers to New Orleans to go to the biggest sports event of the year. Life can be pretty cool.
He gets coaxed into some pictures with Devon and Brandon and he smiles and he even lets Devon post a photo of him in Ravens gear on twitter and he just starts to relax when it happens.
He doesn’t even hear his voice and he doesn’t see him, but he hears, “Sorry that you can’t be down there, but regulations are a bit tighter for Superbowl. But I’m sure you’re gonna love it up here.” And there’s no time to run and there’s no place to hide when all Ryan hears is Debbie’s voice, saying, “Don’t you worry about it. We’re here, that’s all that matters, right boys?” And that’s when Ryan knows that, despite all planning and hard work, he is so very fucked right now.
Debbie is the first to enter the room and shortly after her there are a couple of guys Ryan has seen on the Instagram-photos and then there’s Michael. Wearing that shirt, of course. Almost clean-shaven. Hipster-glasses on. Snapback on his head. He radiates excitement and Ryan feels a mixture of wanting to punch someone - maybe even Michael - and running away before he gets a chance to. He sinks deeper into his seat and turns back around to stare out onto the field before Michael has a chance to spot him.
Devon and Brandon leap out of their seats. There are introductions to the Instagram-friends and hugs and kisses from Debbie and “I can’t believe you’re here, guys.” from Michael. And then he asks, “Is Ryan here?” and someone must point him out to Michael, because suddenly Ryan feels his eyes on him and if he looks hard enough he can see Michael staring at him through their reflection in the window in front of them.
He takes a deep breath and braces himself and then he slowly gets up and turns back around.
Michael’s eyebrows shoot up. “You in a Ravens jersey? Who got you into that?”
Ryan just shoots a look at Devon and that’s all he gets to do, because then there’s Debbie and she’s hugging him and kisses him on the cheek and Ryan can’t help to hug back, because he actually missed Debbie’s hugs.
There’s some small talk that doesn’t really register to Ryan when Debbie lets go off him. He replies on autopilot and he smiles at her and if he were anyone else, he’d totally buy the act, but when he catches Devon’s eye, he sees a mixture of worry and apology. So it’s no surprise to him at all that Devon is right back at his side as soon as Debbie has wandered back to Michael and their little entourage.
“Dude honestly. I had no idea.”
“I wanna go home, Dev.” Ryan says in all honesty. “Like, for real, dude, you can’t even imagine how much I don’t want to be here right now. I can meet you guys after the game or something, just -”
Devon interrupts him right away. “No Ry, come on. We’re already here. We’re not just gonna let you walk. Just … I don’t know, man. Talk to him. Doesn’t look like he wants to start something and … you know … it might be good.”
“You sound like Mom.”
“So obviously the smarts skipped a child in the family.” That actually earns him a slight smile from Ryan. “Just talk to him. It can’t possibly get worse than what it’s been like those past few months.”
Ryan looks at Devon and he sees this isn’t a question anymore, it’s a plea. Ryan actually feels like Devon is suffering from the entire thing as much as he does. And Ryan understands it. Devon and Michael have been friends. Whenever Michael was with him in Florida, there was always some time he spent with Ryan’s brothers. They always said it was because Michael never had brothers and the only male company in Baltimore was Herman, but at the end of the day, Brandon and especially Devon were considered really close friends, basically family, by Michael and it was the same the other way around. And suddenly, there was this gap between Ryan and Michael and even though no one had ever been forced to pick sides, Devon was with Ryan and that was that. He kept his brother, but he still sort of lost one in the process.
“Come on, dude. Just … it’ll make it better. For everyone.”
Ryan doesn’t answer, but he wonders when exactly his younger brother started to outsmart him in every possible way. Because Devon is right. They all will be in the same, not very big, room for the next few hours. And it will be a lot easier for everyone if Ryan and Michael are at least civil enough with each other to not completely ignore the other person’s presence. So he downs the rest of his beer, fistbumps Devon and then walks over to Michael, ignoring the lump that seems to start in his throat and travels all through the rest of his body.
Michael is getting himself a drink and he feels Ryan approaching before he sees or hears him. He turns around just as Ryan stops behind him.
“Hi.”
“Hey.”
They both speak at the same time and if this was another time, Ryan would see the humour in this, but he doesn’t right now. Right now he thinks it’s ridiculous that Michael and him are still so fine-tuned to each other that they speak at the same time and that they can feel each other’s presence. They shouldn’t be like this after such a long time and after all that has happened between them.
“We should talk.” Ryan says because really, he just wants to get it over with so he can watch football with his brothers, drink beer, drive home tomorrow, crash in his own bed, and forget that this whole thing ever happened.
“Yeah.” Michael replies.
They look around the room and everyone seems engaged in some sort of conversation and no one really pays any attention to them, but still. Ryan doesn’t want to do this here, in the middle of everyone. And from the look on his face, neither does Michael.
“Let’s just …” Michael doesn’t have to motion towards the door, because Ryan is already moving.
“Yeah.”
They exit the room, one after another. They walk along the hallway, Michael a few steps ahead of Ryan, who very much looks like he feels - like he doesn’t want to be where he is - and more than once he toys with the idea of just turning around and running into the opposite direction.
They reach an emergency staircase and Michael opens the door, peeking through. Apparently, it’s good enough, because he slips through the door, holding it slightly ajar for Ryan.
Ryan sits down on one of the steps, Michael leans against the wall at the other end of the landing. Ryan looks down at his shoes, but he feels Michael’s gaze burning into him. It makes him want to squirm, like it’s something he can get away from physically.
“I really didn’t think I’d see you here.” Michael starts.
“Dev and Brandon wanted to go. Mom wouldn’t let them without me.” He glances up at him for a second. “You’ve ruined them.”
“I’m not gonna apologize for that.” And Michael even smiles a little.
“Hadn’t expected you to. Learned my lesson.” It’s a mumble more than anything.
Michael still hears him. “Devon and Brandon are old enough to make his own decisions.”
“Like I give a fuck about you turning my brothers into Ravens-fans.”
“What else am I meant to apologize for?”
Ryan snorts. “Of course you don’t know. But I’m the dumb one.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You really don’t know, do you?”
“Dude, no.”
“It doesn’t strike you as, like, weird, that this is the longest conversation we’ve had in fucking months?”
“Yeah, but -“
Ryan doesn’t let him finish, he’s talked himself into a rage. “Like, does it even cross your mind that there’s something different? We never not spoke to each other. Never. Especially not for half a fucking year.”
Michael sighs. “You seemed okay.”
“But I wasn’t.” Ryan’s screaming now.
“How the fuck was I supposed to know?” Michael screams back.
“Because you know me, you asshole! You and I have been in a fucking relationship for eight years, Michael. As much as we both like to deny that we were, that’s what we were. We were in a relationship.”
Ryan takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. He hates screaming at people. It never seems to solve anything and the only thing it results in is more screaming. But he’s frustrated right now and the screaming seems to ease that.
He looks at Michael and it feels like he doesn’t even know him anymore. He’s just a few feet away from him, but to Ryan, he might as well be on another planet.
“What happened, Michael?” Ryan’s voice is soft.
Michael just shrugs. “I don’t know.”
Ryan shakes his head. “Bullshit. You do know.” He pauses. “Have you … is there?” He can’t bring himself to finish the sentence.
Michael still gets it. “No. Never. It’s always been you. Just you.”
“Until I wasn’t.”
“Ryan, just … I don’t know.”
“You stopped talking to me from one day to the other. Do you realize how much that sucked, dude? Like, just like that.” He snaps his fingers. “I spent, like, days trying to figure out why. If maybe I said something I shouldn’t have said or whatever. And I came out empty. And like, I still think about it. There hasn’t been a day in the past few months when I didn’t think about what I could’ve done to make you walk out on me.”
Ryan thinks back of Halloween and Thanksgiving and Christmas and all the days in between when he wanted to hear from Michael and didn’t. How he looked at his phone after he came back from the World Championships in Turkey and there wasn’t anything. And how instead he saw Michael dressed up with someone else for Halloween and he saw him in other places to support other people at fucking Poker tournaments, like he had replaced Ryan with all those other things and other people without having a care in the world.
It occurs to Ryan how very reversed their roles are now. It always used to be Michael living in his own head while Ryan was the one goofing off and enjoying life. And now Michael was the one DJing in Las Vegas and drinking champagne right out of the bottle while Ryan spent half a day just swimming himself into exhaustion. For a moment he wonders if Michael ever felt like he does, that he got left with the short end of the stick. All work, hardly any play.
Michael moves to sit down next to Ryan. Close, but careful not to touch. Because Ryan doesn’t like to be touched when he’s mad.
“It was just … I don’t know.” Michael sighs.
“You keep saying that. You don’t know. You gotta know something.”
“I miss you. I know that.” Michael says tentatively.
And for the first time since they bumped into each other back in their box at the stadium, Ryan is actually really looking at Michael. “You didn’t call once, Michael. I called. All the fucking time. But I got tired of hearing your voicemail and you not calling back. So I stopped trying. I can’t always push you to do things, at some point you’ll have to want to do them yourself.” He sinks his head again.
Michael falls silent, thinking. Because what Ryan just pointed out is nothing but the truth. Ryan had always been the pusher of the two of them. Michael swam harder when Ryan grinned at him and said he couldn’t beat him anyway. Ryan was the one who first owned up to the fact that they were more than just casual fuckbuddies and Michael let himself be pulled along with it. And just a few minutes ago, it had been Ryan who first used the word ‘relationship’, making Michael realize that this was really what had happened over the course of eight years. They had been in a relationship.
“It sucks being out there without you. Everyone’s just … I don’t know, they’re not you. I can’t just go by their houses and do my laundry with theirs and hang out with their families when they’re not around.”
Ryan keeps looking down, his eyes settling on the key dangling from the chain around his neck. His agent had shown him the website and talked him into buying one. He takes in the message carved into it.
“It sucks for both of us. I hate doing this whole thing without you. Like, I’m not saying come back, but like, I can’t get my head out of it when there’s nobody there to do it with.”
Michael nods. “Sorry.”
And Ryan actually smiles. “About damn time, Phelps.”
Michael smiles, bumping his shoulder against Ryan. “So the jersey ...”
“Totally your fault, man.”
“What did I do that got you into a Ravens-jersey?”
“I was so fucking out of it because I was scared of running into you that I let Dev and Brandon dress me up like this.”
Michael seems surprised by this. “You were scared of running into me? Why?”
“Because, like, I don’t know, dude. I tend to not function around you. Like, I should be mad at you right now.”
“So be mad. I deserve it.”
“Yeah, but that’s the thing. I can’t be mad at you. Not when you’re right here and you look so fucking good. Like, right now all I can think about is how good we are together and why we aren’t together right now. And I should hate myself for even thinking that, because fuck knows you don’t even deserve me talking to you right now but fuck you, man. That’s the way it is.”
There’s a pause and Ryan looks back down at his shoes while Michael can’t seem to take his eyes off Ryan. Ryan still feels his eyes burning into him, but it doesn’t make him want to squirm away from it anymore.
“I was scared of running into you too, you know.” Michael admits silently. “Not just here, but sort of … in general. I was scared that eventually people would ask me about you. Because … I mean … how do you admit that you sort of fucked up the best thing in your life because you were scared of a little change? I’ve wanted to come down to Florida so many times. Just to have you around.”
“So what stopped you?”
“I didn’t want to drag you down with me.” Michael pauses, collecting his thoughts. “Most of the time, I have no idea what I’m doing or where my life’s headed right now. I’m okay when I’m with mom or when I’m out golfing, but the rest of the time it’s just … I feel like one of these guys in a midlife-crisis, you know? Like I have to catch up on so many things, but when I do, I feel worse instead of better.”
“Then stop it. It’s that simple. If it makes you feel like shit, don’t do it. And if you think that being in Gainesville with me makes you feel better, then just come. You have a fucking key to my house.”
Michael is gobsmacked. “Just like that?”
“Yeah fuck, just like that.” Ryan brings his hand up to the back of Michael’s neck, squeezing a little. “I mean it, come to Gainesville. Not just for you, for me too, for both of us. Please?”
Michael swallows and nods. “Okay.”
“I mean it, dude. This is the last time I’m doing this. If I don’t see your ass on my couch by fucking Tuesday, don’t even bother showing up ever again.”
“Okay.” Michael says again.
“Okay.” Ryan repeats.
Ryan gives another squeeze to Michael’s neck before he gets back onto his feet and heads for the door out into the stadium again. He notices that Michael doesn’t follow him and when he looks back around, Michael is still sitting on the staircase, staring into nothingness.
Just like that, it seems like they’re back in their old roles, Ryan being the one who pushes Michael forward, Michael the one lost in his thoughts.
Ryan looks back down at the chain dangling from his neck and takes it off. He walks back to Michael and swings it in front of his face. Michael brings his hand up and stops it. He squints at the writing on it.
“Fearless?”
Ryan places the necklace in Michael’s palm and closes his own hand around it. “I think you need it more than I do right now.” He laces his fingers through Michael’s.
Michael holds onto Ryan’s hand and lets himself be pulled up into a standing position. And suddenly they’re impossibly close and Ryan feels his heart rate pick up and he feels like he’s shaking all over, except for where his hand is holding onto Michael’s.
“I’m sorry, Ryan.”
Ryan nods. “Quit doing shit you only end up being sorry for.”
And then he’s brushing his lips against Michael’s, quick and easy. It’s over before Michael’s brain is processing it and then Ryan walks back towards the doorway again, dragging Michael behind by their still clasped hands.
They get back out into the crowded hallway, letting go of each other’s hands. Michael puts the necklace on and then slings an arm around Ryan’s shoulders. It’s a simple enough gesture, but Ryan feels lightheaded and he can’t stop smiling and he reminds himself that he owes his brothers a huge dinner or maybe some new cars for forcing him to go to the Superbowl.
**
Authors Note: The key is very much real. You can see Ryan wearing it here. It is from a charity organisation called The Giving Keys who employ homeless people who get given a chance to get back onto their feet with the proceeds from the keys. What you do is you order a key and choose a word/message to get engraved into it and at some point, you have to give the key to someone who you think needs the message most. (Ryan's publicist also represents Caitlin Crosby, the founder of The Giving Keys and confirmed that Ryan is wearing a 'Fearless' key here)
Pairing: Ryan Lochte/Michael Phelps
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 4,312
Summary: Ryan and Michael run into each other at the Superbowl
Disclaimer: I don't think so
Author's Note: at the end
“Dude, what?!”
Ryan is sitting at the kitchen table in his mother’s house, fork stopped midway to his mouth, staring at Devon and Brandon sitting across from him.
“I’m just saying. You, me, Brandon. Weekend in New Orleans. Superbowl. With a team we like actually playing.”
“If you wanna go to the Superbowl, I’ll buy you the fucking tickets.”
“You know as well as I do that mom won’t let Brandon and me go on our own. And unless you wanna spend a small fortune on some probably fake black market tickets, without you there with us, we won’t even get in.” Devon reasons. “Don’t be an asshole, come on.”
“I’m not being an asshole, I just don’t wanna go to the Superbowl.”
“Who doesn’t wanna go to the Superbowl?” Brandon chimes in.
“I don’t. Besides, I have practice.”
“Like you give a shit about practice, dude.” Devon interjects again. “You just don’t wanna go because Michael’s gonna be there.”
At that, Ryan just fixes Devon with an icy stare. His lips form a thin line, his eyes darken and if looks could kill, Devon may as well fall off his chair right then.
Ryan takes a deep breath, before standing up and taking his plate. “Fuck you, Dev.” he growls before leaving the kitchen.
Ileana Lochte is flipping through a magazine, but looks up when Ryan flops down on the couch next to her and picks up eating again without saying a word.
“All good?”
“Devon and Brandon are idiots.” Ryan huffs.
“Is this because of the Superbowl?”
“Have they reeled you in as well?”
“They mentioned it.”
Ryan sighs. “I don’t wanna go, mom.” He scoots down and drops his head on her shoulder.
Ileana pats his arm. “They’re your brothers, Ryan. They wanna spend some time with you.”
“I know, but like, does it have to be there? Can’t I just take them to Vegas?”
“Don’t you even dare!” Ileana threatens, making Ryan laugh momentarily.
“I don’t wanna see him.” Ryan admits.
“I know, honey. But -”
“Please don’t finish this sentence.”
Ileana ignores him. “But I think it’d be good if you went. And I think it’d be good if you talked to Michael.”
Ryan snorts. “Good for who?”
“Both of you. You’ve been a part of each other’s lives for too long. I’m not saying be what you two used to be again. Just try to find a way that lets you be in the same room with each other. As for you,” she slightly pinches Ryan’s arm. “Don’t get in a fight with your brothers just because you don’t want to see Michael. They’re your brothers, he is just Michael.”
Ryan wants to protest and say that nothing about Michael is, was or will ever be just. Those are two opposite ends of one very large spectrum. But then Ryan remembers something he’s said to Devon many times when he wanted to hang out with his girlfriend instead of with Ryan. ‘Blood is thicker than jizz.’ And that’s when he knows he’s doomed, even though he knows that the statement itself isn’t even true. At least he doesn’t think it is, he hasn’t tested it yet.
“Okay fine!” he yells into the general direction of the kitchen, “We’re going to the Superbowl, you douchebags!”
The only reply he gets are two excited yells and what sounds like a very enthusiastic high-five.
Ryan spends the following week putting together what he hopes is a foolproof plan to avoid Michael Phelps at any costs. He asks to skip two days of practice so they can drive to New Orleans and back instead of taking a plane and maybe running into Michael at the airport, even when he knows it won’t happen, because Michael’s is gonna use a private jet. He makes sure that the hotel room they’re getting is at a place Michael won’t step a foot into. He even contemplates asking if they could maybe get tickets for a VIP Box of the 49ers, but that seems to take it a step too far and Devon and Brandon are never going to forgive him either. Besides, Michael’s probably going to be right at the sideline anyway. And Ryan knows he’s being paranoid and crazy, but the risk of being confronted with Michael Phelps isn’t one he feels like taking. At least and especially not now.
So with all the work that went into planning their Superbowl-trip, Ryan feels safe when they all throw their bags in the car and he starts driving. They joke around, play stupid games and yell along to whatever song’s coming out of the speakers and for a while, Ryan actually forgets about where they’re going and what might happen once they get there.
They get to New Orleans and they go out for dinner to a small place where the waitress calls them names like ‘Sugarmuffin’ and pinches Brandon’s cheeks. They wander through the French Quarter and buy some presents for their mom and at night, they all watch a movie on Devon’s laptop. At some point, they fall asleep one after another in a pile on the mattress without having a care in the world.
When Ryan wakes up on Sunday morning to the sounds of Devon singing out of tune in the shower, all the easiness from the past evening is completely gone. He suddenly feels tense and anxious, as if his subconscious knows that Michael is somewhere not too far away from them and that the chances of accidentally bumping into him are dangerously high. Even at some place as huge as a football stadium.
In the afternoon, Devon puts a Ravens jersey on him and Brandon produces a Ravens-beanie out of nowhere and Ryan just stands there like in a trance, letting his brothers use him as a dress-up doll. He feels like he is in one of those movies or TV-shows where people get paralyzed by some drugs, but still notice everything going on around them, but they’re just not able to do anything against it and they can’t yell at anyone to stop either.
They’re walking part of the way to the stadium, Devon and Brandon talking animatedly about this or that player or maybe some statistics or maybe even a pending zombie attack, for all Ryan knows. He doesn’t really listen because he is too busy checking their surroundings if maybe he sees an all too familiar plaid shirt and he overhears strangers talking to each other, hoping that the low voice with the slight lisp may not be one of them.
He’s never been nervous before one of his races. Or maybe ever. ‘Nervous’ is not a state of mind Ryan is very familiar with. And if it’s just half as whatever he’s feeling right now, he is pretty damn glad about that. Because this uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach is definitely something he wouldn’t want to deal with right before he’s about to race. It’s feels like someone attached an iron ball and chain to his insides and he can’t really focus on anything, except how hard it is to just be his normal self.
They get into the stadium and they get shown to their seats in the still half-empty VIP-Box and it just starts to click with Ryan where he is when he gets handed his first beer. He looks over at Devon and Brandon who take one picture after the other and talk so fast that it’s difficult to understand what they’re saying in the first place. Ryan leans back in his seat and enjoys the view and realizes for the first time that damn, he’s actually at the Superbowl. Again. He’s got to a place in life where he can take his brothers to New Orleans to go to the biggest sports event of the year. Life can be pretty cool.
He gets coaxed into some pictures with Devon and Brandon and he smiles and he even lets Devon post a photo of him in Ravens gear on twitter and he just starts to relax when it happens.
He doesn’t even hear his voice and he doesn’t see him, but he hears, “Sorry that you can’t be down there, but regulations are a bit tighter for Superbowl. But I’m sure you’re gonna love it up here.” And there’s no time to run and there’s no place to hide when all Ryan hears is Debbie’s voice, saying, “Don’t you worry about it. We’re here, that’s all that matters, right boys?” And that’s when Ryan knows that, despite all planning and hard work, he is so very fucked right now.
Debbie is the first to enter the room and shortly after her there are a couple of guys Ryan has seen on the Instagram-photos and then there’s Michael. Wearing that shirt, of course. Almost clean-shaven. Hipster-glasses on. Snapback on his head. He radiates excitement and Ryan feels a mixture of wanting to punch someone - maybe even Michael - and running away before he gets a chance to. He sinks deeper into his seat and turns back around to stare out onto the field before Michael has a chance to spot him.
Devon and Brandon leap out of their seats. There are introductions to the Instagram-friends and hugs and kisses from Debbie and “I can’t believe you’re here, guys.” from Michael. And then he asks, “Is Ryan here?” and someone must point him out to Michael, because suddenly Ryan feels his eyes on him and if he looks hard enough he can see Michael staring at him through their reflection in the window in front of them.
He takes a deep breath and braces himself and then he slowly gets up and turns back around.
Michael’s eyebrows shoot up. “You in a Ravens jersey? Who got you into that?”
Ryan just shoots a look at Devon and that’s all he gets to do, because then there’s Debbie and she’s hugging him and kisses him on the cheek and Ryan can’t help to hug back, because he actually missed Debbie’s hugs.
There’s some small talk that doesn’t really register to Ryan when Debbie lets go off him. He replies on autopilot and he smiles at her and if he were anyone else, he’d totally buy the act, but when he catches Devon’s eye, he sees a mixture of worry and apology. So it’s no surprise to him at all that Devon is right back at his side as soon as Debbie has wandered back to Michael and their little entourage.
“Dude honestly. I had no idea.”
“I wanna go home, Dev.” Ryan says in all honesty. “Like, for real, dude, you can’t even imagine how much I don’t want to be here right now. I can meet you guys after the game or something, just -”
Devon interrupts him right away. “No Ry, come on. We’re already here. We’re not just gonna let you walk. Just … I don’t know, man. Talk to him. Doesn’t look like he wants to start something and … you know … it might be good.”
“You sound like Mom.”
“So obviously the smarts skipped a child in the family.” That actually earns him a slight smile from Ryan. “Just talk to him. It can’t possibly get worse than what it’s been like those past few months.”
Ryan looks at Devon and he sees this isn’t a question anymore, it’s a plea. Ryan actually feels like Devon is suffering from the entire thing as much as he does. And Ryan understands it. Devon and Michael have been friends. Whenever Michael was with him in Florida, there was always some time he spent with Ryan’s brothers. They always said it was because Michael never had brothers and the only male company in Baltimore was Herman, but at the end of the day, Brandon and especially Devon were considered really close friends, basically family, by Michael and it was the same the other way around. And suddenly, there was this gap between Ryan and Michael and even though no one had ever been forced to pick sides, Devon was with Ryan and that was that. He kept his brother, but he still sort of lost one in the process.
“Come on, dude. Just … it’ll make it better. For everyone.”
Ryan doesn’t answer, but he wonders when exactly his younger brother started to outsmart him in every possible way. Because Devon is right. They all will be in the same, not very big, room for the next few hours. And it will be a lot easier for everyone if Ryan and Michael are at least civil enough with each other to not completely ignore the other person’s presence. So he downs the rest of his beer, fistbumps Devon and then walks over to Michael, ignoring the lump that seems to start in his throat and travels all through the rest of his body.
Michael is getting himself a drink and he feels Ryan approaching before he sees or hears him. He turns around just as Ryan stops behind him.
“Hi.”
“Hey.”
They both speak at the same time and if this was another time, Ryan would see the humour in this, but he doesn’t right now. Right now he thinks it’s ridiculous that Michael and him are still so fine-tuned to each other that they speak at the same time and that they can feel each other’s presence. They shouldn’t be like this after such a long time and after all that has happened between them.
“We should talk.” Ryan says because really, he just wants to get it over with so he can watch football with his brothers, drink beer, drive home tomorrow, crash in his own bed, and forget that this whole thing ever happened.
“Yeah.” Michael replies.
They look around the room and everyone seems engaged in some sort of conversation and no one really pays any attention to them, but still. Ryan doesn’t want to do this here, in the middle of everyone. And from the look on his face, neither does Michael.
“Let’s just …” Michael doesn’t have to motion towards the door, because Ryan is already moving.
“Yeah.”
They exit the room, one after another. They walk along the hallway, Michael a few steps ahead of Ryan, who very much looks like he feels - like he doesn’t want to be where he is - and more than once he toys with the idea of just turning around and running into the opposite direction.
They reach an emergency staircase and Michael opens the door, peeking through. Apparently, it’s good enough, because he slips through the door, holding it slightly ajar for Ryan.
Ryan sits down on one of the steps, Michael leans against the wall at the other end of the landing. Ryan looks down at his shoes, but he feels Michael’s gaze burning into him. It makes him want to squirm, like it’s something he can get away from physically.
“I really didn’t think I’d see you here.” Michael starts.
“Dev and Brandon wanted to go. Mom wouldn’t let them without me.” He glances up at him for a second. “You’ve ruined them.”
“I’m not gonna apologize for that.” And Michael even smiles a little.
“Hadn’t expected you to. Learned my lesson.” It’s a mumble more than anything.
Michael still hears him. “Devon and Brandon are old enough to make his own decisions.”
“Like I give a fuck about you turning my brothers into Ravens-fans.”
“What else am I meant to apologize for?”
Ryan snorts. “Of course you don’t know. But I’m the dumb one.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You really don’t know, do you?”
“Dude, no.”
“It doesn’t strike you as, like, weird, that this is the longest conversation we’ve had in fucking months?”
“Yeah, but -“
Ryan doesn’t let him finish, he’s talked himself into a rage. “Like, does it even cross your mind that there’s something different? We never not spoke to each other. Never. Especially not for half a fucking year.”
Michael sighs. “You seemed okay.”
“But I wasn’t.” Ryan’s screaming now.
“How the fuck was I supposed to know?” Michael screams back.
“Because you know me, you asshole! You and I have been in a fucking relationship for eight years, Michael. As much as we both like to deny that we were, that’s what we were. We were in a relationship.”
Ryan takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. He hates screaming at people. It never seems to solve anything and the only thing it results in is more screaming. But he’s frustrated right now and the screaming seems to ease that.
He looks at Michael and it feels like he doesn’t even know him anymore. He’s just a few feet away from him, but to Ryan, he might as well be on another planet.
“What happened, Michael?” Ryan’s voice is soft.
Michael just shrugs. “I don’t know.”
Ryan shakes his head. “Bullshit. You do know.” He pauses. “Have you … is there?” He can’t bring himself to finish the sentence.
Michael still gets it. “No. Never. It’s always been you. Just you.”
“Until I wasn’t.”
“Ryan, just … I don’t know.”
“You stopped talking to me from one day to the other. Do you realize how much that sucked, dude? Like, just like that.” He snaps his fingers. “I spent, like, days trying to figure out why. If maybe I said something I shouldn’t have said or whatever. And I came out empty. And like, I still think about it. There hasn’t been a day in the past few months when I didn’t think about what I could’ve done to make you walk out on me.”
Ryan thinks back of Halloween and Thanksgiving and Christmas and all the days in between when he wanted to hear from Michael and didn’t. How he looked at his phone after he came back from the World Championships in Turkey and there wasn’t anything. And how instead he saw Michael dressed up with someone else for Halloween and he saw him in other places to support other people at fucking Poker tournaments, like he had replaced Ryan with all those other things and other people without having a care in the world.
It occurs to Ryan how very reversed their roles are now. It always used to be Michael living in his own head while Ryan was the one goofing off and enjoying life. And now Michael was the one DJing in Las Vegas and drinking champagne right out of the bottle while Ryan spent half a day just swimming himself into exhaustion. For a moment he wonders if Michael ever felt like he does, that he got left with the short end of the stick. All work, hardly any play.
Michael moves to sit down next to Ryan. Close, but careful not to touch. Because Ryan doesn’t like to be touched when he’s mad.
“It was just … I don’t know.” Michael sighs.
“You keep saying that. You don’t know. You gotta know something.”
“I miss you. I know that.” Michael says tentatively.
And for the first time since they bumped into each other back in their box at the stadium, Ryan is actually really looking at Michael. “You didn’t call once, Michael. I called. All the fucking time. But I got tired of hearing your voicemail and you not calling back. So I stopped trying. I can’t always push you to do things, at some point you’ll have to want to do them yourself.” He sinks his head again.
Michael falls silent, thinking. Because what Ryan just pointed out is nothing but the truth. Ryan had always been the pusher of the two of them. Michael swam harder when Ryan grinned at him and said he couldn’t beat him anyway. Ryan was the one who first owned up to the fact that they were more than just casual fuckbuddies and Michael let himself be pulled along with it. And just a few minutes ago, it had been Ryan who first used the word ‘relationship’, making Michael realize that this was really what had happened over the course of eight years. They had been in a relationship.
“It sucks being out there without you. Everyone’s just … I don’t know, they’re not you. I can’t just go by their houses and do my laundry with theirs and hang out with their families when they’re not around.”
Ryan keeps looking down, his eyes settling on the key dangling from the chain around his neck. His agent had shown him the website and talked him into buying one. He takes in the message carved into it.
“It sucks for both of us. I hate doing this whole thing without you. Like, I’m not saying come back, but like, I can’t get my head out of it when there’s nobody there to do it with.”
Michael nods. “Sorry.”
And Ryan actually smiles. “About damn time, Phelps.”
Michael smiles, bumping his shoulder against Ryan. “So the jersey ...”
“Totally your fault, man.”
“What did I do that got you into a Ravens-jersey?”
“I was so fucking out of it because I was scared of running into you that I let Dev and Brandon dress me up like this.”
Michael seems surprised by this. “You were scared of running into me? Why?”
“Because, like, I don’t know, dude. I tend to not function around you. Like, I should be mad at you right now.”
“So be mad. I deserve it.”
“Yeah, but that’s the thing. I can’t be mad at you. Not when you’re right here and you look so fucking good. Like, right now all I can think about is how good we are together and why we aren’t together right now. And I should hate myself for even thinking that, because fuck knows you don’t even deserve me talking to you right now but fuck you, man. That’s the way it is.”
There’s a pause and Ryan looks back down at his shoes while Michael can’t seem to take his eyes off Ryan. Ryan still feels his eyes burning into him, but it doesn’t make him want to squirm away from it anymore.
“I was scared of running into you too, you know.” Michael admits silently. “Not just here, but sort of … in general. I was scared that eventually people would ask me about you. Because … I mean … how do you admit that you sort of fucked up the best thing in your life because you were scared of a little change? I’ve wanted to come down to Florida so many times. Just to have you around.”
“So what stopped you?”
“I didn’t want to drag you down with me.” Michael pauses, collecting his thoughts. “Most of the time, I have no idea what I’m doing or where my life’s headed right now. I’m okay when I’m with mom or when I’m out golfing, but the rest of the time it’s just … I feel like one of these guys in a midlife-crisis, you know? Like I have to catch up on so many things, but when I do, I feel worse instead of better.”
“Then stop it. It’s that simple. If it makes you feel like shit, don’t do it. And if you think that being in Gainesville with me makes you feel better, then just come. You have a fucking key to my house.”
Michael is gobsmacked. “Just like that?”
“Yeah fuck, just like that.” Ryan brings his hand up to the back of Michael’s neck, squeezing a little. “I mean it, come to Gainesville. Not just for you, for me too, for both of us. Please?”
Michael swallows and nods. “Okay.”
“I mean it, dude. This is the last time I’m doing this. If I don’t see your ass on my couch by fucking Tuesday, don’t even bother showing up ever again.”
“Okay.” Michael says again.
“Okay.” Ryan repeats.
Ryan gives another squeeze to Michael’s neck before he gets back onto his feet and heads for the door out into the stadium again. He notices that Michael doesn’t follow him and when he looks back around, Michael is still sitting on the staircase, staring into nothingness.
Just like that, it seems like they’re back in their old roles, Ryan being the one who pushes Michael forward, Michael the one lost in his thoughts.
Ryan looks back down at the chain dangling from his neck and takes it off. He walks back to Michael and swings it in front of his face. Michael brings his hand up and stops it. He squints at the writing on it.
“Fearless?”
Ryan places the necklace in Michael’s palm and closes his own hand around it. “I think you need it more than I do right now.” He laces his fingers through Michael’s.
Michael holds onto Ryan’s hand and lets himself be pulled up into a standing position. And suddenly they’re impossibly close and Ryan feels his heart rate pick up and he feels like he’s shaking all over, except for where his hand is holding onto Michael’s.
“I’m sorry, Ryan.”
Ryan nods. “Quit doing shit you only end up being sorry for.”
And then he’s brushing his lips against Michael’s, quick and easy. It’s over before Michael’s brain is processing it and then Ryan walks back towards the doorway again, dragging Michael behind by their still clasped hands.
They get back out into the crowded hallway, letting go of each other’s hands. Michael puts the necklace on and then slings an arm around Ryan’s shoulders. It’s a simple enough gesture, but Ryan feels lightheaded and he can’t stop smiling and he reminds himself that he owes his brothers a huge dinner or maybe some new cars for forcing him to go to the Superbowl.
**
Authors Note: The key is very much real. You can see Ryan wearing it here. It is from a charity organisation called The Giving Keys who employ homeless people who get given a chance to get back onto their feet with the proceeds from the keys. What you do is you order a key and choose a word/message to get engraved into it and at some point, you have to give the key to someone who you think needs the message most. (Ryan's publicist also represents Caitlin Crosby, the founder of The Giving Keys and confirmed that Ryan is wearing a 'Fearless' key here)