Fan Fiction - Krasobruslení - Povídky
The display of his alarm clock is showing 3:35a.m. when his phone starts ringing. He's awake by the first ring; he's always been a light sleeper. He grabs his pillow and presses it onto his head in an attempt to shield his ears from the irritating sound, but the melody still trickles through. He growls and stretches out his hand blindly, fumbling for the phone on the bedside table. He seizes the softly vibrating pebble, flips it open and brings it to his ear without even opening his eyes, let alone checking who's on the other end of the line.
"Mhmm?" he murmurs inarticulately into the phone, his voice thick with sleep.
"Ya razvedus s Mariyey."
The words he hears don't make any sense to his sleep-numbed brain.
"What?" he mumbles. "Who is it?"
"Dzhonni?" His name comes with a thick Russian accent.
"Yeah, it's me," he confirms. "Zhenya?" he gasps as recognition dawns on him.
"What happened? I mean – why are you calling me in the middle of the night?" Johnny sits up in his bed, runs a hand through his hair, yawning into the phone.
"I'm leaving Maria," Zhenya announces.
"You – what?" The information was in English this time, but it still doesn't make much more sense in Johnny's head.
"Maria. My wife," the Russian explains. As if Johnny didn't know who Maria is. Maria… To the world, she is the nice psychology student Zhenya fell for and married. To Johnny, Maria is the woman who persuaded his lover that he could be – should be – straight. That fucking an American boy AND a competitor is not a good idea – well, she was probably right about that, Johnny realizes, but that's not the point. It's Maria whom Johnny can thank for a week-long depression.
"You're leaving Maria?" he finally says. "Why? I mean – Zhenya, you can't – I mean – your kid!" he stutters, shocked by his own reaction. Shouldn't he be happy? Isn't this what he'd wanted? To win? To get Zhenya back?
Somehow, it doesn't feel right. It doesn't feel real. It scares him, even. Because no matter what, it will never be the same again. Maria will always be there – her ghost, her imprint, rooted deep in Johnny's mind and Zhenya's, too. Johnny isn't sure if he could handle that, if he is capable of swallowing up his pride. And if he wants to risk being hurt. Again.
"I can. I will," Zhenya says, his determined voice cutting through Johnny's stream of thoughts. "Uvidimsya v Moskve, Dzhonni," he adds and hangs up, ignoring Johnny's blurt of Evgeni, wait!
Johnny stares at the phone in his palm for a few more seconds, then places it back on the bedside table and lays down, hoping to fall right back asleep.
He doesn’t close his eyes until the dawn.
The lobby of the Ukraine hotel is packed with people when they arrive. There are fans begging for an autograph, a photo. ISU officials trying to organize the chaos. Several press people. Regular tourists who don't understand what all the fuss is about. And Zhenya.
Johnny can feel his look the moment Zhenya lays his eyes upon him; he shivers involuntarily. He doesn't look up to meet Zhenya's gaze; he's trying to ignore the Russian, signing autographs and chit-chatting with his fans. He's not planning to let him see the emotional storm raging right under the surface.
He jumps up at the knock on his door, his heart speeding up its beat in his chest. Ka-boom, ka-boom, ka-boom. Relax, Weir, he compels himself. It's probably just Priscilla. Or Patti. Or maybe Tanith. – Or Plushenko, another voice in his head offers maliciously, but Johnny silences it immediately. He walks over to the door and opens it, wearing a calm, self-confident smile.
The smile slips off his face as soon as those incredible blue eyes pierce into him, burning, intense, searching.
Zhenya steps inside without waiting for Johnny's consent, he slams the door shut behind himself and in the next instant, Johnny is being crushed against it, strong hands tracing the contours of his body, rough lips on his mouth, then a hot breath and Oh gospodi in his ear.
He knows he shouldn't let this happen. But his body has a mind of its own and his heart isn't helping much, either, so he gives up his struggle after a few moments and melts against Zhenya, wrapping his arms and legs around his body with an urgent whimper of Yes!
"She does not want that I skate anymore." The words are a puff of warmth on his chest, spoken quietly against his skin as Zhenya lies there listening to his heartbeat."'You have all the titles now, you don't need to skate any longer.'" Zhenya's tone is bitter and sad and Johnny understands.
Skating is the one thing Zhenya loves more than anything. Take it away from him and he will cease to live. It's like that for most of them – having spent half of your life at an ice-rink, it's hard to imagine a life "off ice".
"I told her okay, I will make a break. For the baby. But it was not enough. Nothing is ever enough for Maria."
Johnny listens, clenching his teeth, as Zhenya continues his monologue about his wife. It hurts to see him like this – crestfallen and lost, like he's desperately trying to put together bits of something broken. It hurts even more to see just how much he would do – and has done – to satisfy his wife. Just how important Maria seems to be for him.
"I thought it would be good after the baby came. And it was – " Zhenya sighs, pauses, runs his fingers over Johnny's ribs. " – for a few weeks."
Johnny ruffles Zhenya's hair, brushes a few strands away from his face, tracing the edges and angles with his index finger. He forces himself to stay calm, be gentle, although inside of him his heart is screaming. Run! Get out of this before he shatters you in a thousand pieces!
And then another voice, one that picks on his insecurities… Did you honestly think he would come back to you and tell you he'd made a mistake, that he loves you and wants you instead of her?
He has to frown at his own naivety – or stupidity. Here he is, listening to the man he loves go on about the problems in his marriage, hoping that maybe, maybe… Stupid. Stupid, silly little Johnny.
He doesn't want to cry, but it's hard and a few tears well in his eyes, then get caught on his eyelashes as he squeezes his eyes shut, tight.
Why can't I be like him? Like everybody else? Johnny wonders, mad at himself. Fuck and forget. Easy as that.
Suddenly, the weight of Zhenya's head is lifted off his chest and a second later fingers brush across his face and a warm kiss is dropped onto each of his eyelids.
"Listen to me, Dzhonni." The whisper is soft, but intense. "Look and listen."
He obliges, finding those blue eyes staring right into his soul.
"I saw you on tour."
"You ignored me on tour," Johnny accuses, remembering all the disappointment and hurt resulting from Zhenya's behavior.
"I saw you and I was afraid to talk with you or be with you because I wouldn't… I would do something stupid. So I ignored you." He moves his hands to Johnny's shoulders now, rubbing at the muscles and easing away the tension.
"I came home to Russia and thought 'it will be okay'. But you were still in my head, all the time, and I couldn't be with Maria. I couldn't," he says and smiles down on Johnny – a small, hesitant smile.
"I want you – to be with you," he adds and Johnny feels a wild hope ripple through his insides. He stifles it – or tries to.
"You… You do?" he whispers in disbelief.
"Da. Otschen hotschu," Zhenya replies and the smile that spreads across his face warms Johnny deep inside and melts the last bits of doubt away. It may be naïve, but he wants to believe – that this could be real, that it could be possible, that he will not be left crying and broken again. And in that moment, he does believe.
He pulls Zhenya down, his lips smiling against his ear, and whispers: "Ladno."
Děkuji Reet za beta-read. / Thanks for beta-reading, Reet.
Malý rusko-česko-anglický slovník...
* Ya razvedus s Mariyey. = Rozvedu se s Marií./I'm gonna divorce Maria.
* Da. = Ano./Yes.
* Uvidimsya v Moskve, Dzhonni. = Uvidíme se v Moskvě, Džonni./See you in Moscow, Johnny.
* Oh gospodi. = Ach bože./Oh God!
* Da. Otschen hotschu = Ano. Velmi chci./Yes. I want (it) very much.
* Ladno. = Dobře./Okay.
tour = Champions on Ice