#schlierenwald

I knew it was coming.

He has been quiet the whole summer, staring into distance, avoiding talking about it. I haven’t bothered him about it, I haven’t tried to talk to him. I knew this was a decision that is his and his alone, so I gave him the room to think about it alone.

I knew it, I’ve known it for a while now, but when the words come I feel like they strangle me, leave me breathless. I feel like the world as I knew it has disappeared with his words. I feel like there’s no going back now.

“I’m ending my career.” Quiet words, words I have waited.

We sit by the kitchen counter, our morning coffees long gone cold. Gregor looks at me, and it makes everything more real. He doesn’t hide anything.

I know how I should react. This isn't about me. It's about supporting his decision, being whatever he needs me to be, being there for him and trying my hardest to silence that fear of his that I only ever loved the ski jumper in him. It's only partly true. I adore Gregor the ski jumper. I idolized him when I was younger. He was my hero.

I fantasized about the superstar. I didn’t fall in love with him, though.

I fell in love with the ordinary man. I fell in love with the man that is sitting on the other side of the kitchen counter, waiting for me to react to his words.

"I love you," I say.

"You're the first person I've told," he says. That means ‘I love you too’,

"How do you feel?"

There’s a long pause like he doesn’t really know what he’s feeling.

"Relieved,” he says in the end, looking out of the window. "Scared. Excited. Sad. Conflicted."

"You can always make a comeback."

"I don't think I will." There a certainty in his voice. This decision is final. He’s not going to come back. “This is it.” His voice breaks as he says it. The words catapult straight to my heart. This is it, this is it, this is it.

How can it be?

“Can you – “ his voice pleads.

“Y-yeah.” I’m up before I notice I’ve moved. The need to hold him is too strong. I can’t reach him fast enough.

As I wrap my arms around him, he leans his head against my chest. I blink the tears away from my eyes. It’s not about me, never about me. It’s him who is making the decision, ending something that started years and years ago. Ending an era, a career like no other. I will mourn the hero, my hero, another time. This is the time for him to mourn the life he lived.

I don’t have any words for him. There are no words, nothing I could say that would make him feel better in this moment. He will mourn, maybe he will let me see how hard the decision was, and my job is to support him in any way I can.

We travel to Lahti and then to Norway and everything between me and Gregor stays the same. We don’t share the room on the competition trips, we keep it professional, and that’s how it would have stayed until the end of the season, but the end of the season comes early this year, because the world is catching fire.

Stefan wins the overall cup, and we celebrate on the streets of Trondheim. Later we spend the day packing and instead of a competition, there seems to be a rush to get back home before we get stuck. It’s a weird feeling, something no one really knows how to handle.

Gregor gets grouchy and quiet as we travel back to Oslo, to the airport to wait our flight back home. I mostly try to stay out of his way as does everyone else, because clearly he doesn’t need the company right now. It isn’t until we are just about to be boarding that he approaches me. I haven’t been paying attention to what he does, until he sits next to me.

“So,” he says, looking around to check that no one is paying attention to us. “What are your plans?” I have no idea what he’s talking about, but I don’t have time to answer before he continues. “They say there’s going to be a lockdown or something back home and it might take a while for things to get back to normal.” He shrugs like he doesn’t really care. “It’s probably going to be a bit lonely to spend so much time in your tiny apartment.”

“I never stay there during holidays,” I say slowly, trying to figure out where he’s going with his words. “I always go to my parents place.”

“Right,” his voice sounds weird.

“Are you alright?” I stare at him.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he shrugs again and doesn’t look at me. Instead he seems to be very interested in staring at his phone.

“I don’t know,” I mutter. “You’re acting all weird.”

“Would you stay with me?” he blurts out, and I’m not sure I heard correctly. Surely we are not having this conversation in the middle of an airport with our team just a couple of meters away, snoozing.

“What?”

“You heard me,” Gregor sniffs defensively.

Yes, I want to say. Yes, my mind screams. He is asking, so he doesn’t think it would be too much. He likes having me there with him. But also I don’t know if he realizes what he’s really asking. We don’t know anything about this potential lockdown. The situation is stressful enough without adding a new relationship to the mix. He might not be able to handle me. Maybe we would be better off without each other. He’s basically asking me to come live with him.

Yes, yes, yes, I want to say. “Gregor – “ is what comes out of my mouth instead.

He takes it as a refusal, and his guard is back up before I have time to say anything else.

“Forget it.” He tries to stand up, and without even realizing what I’m doing, I reach out to grab his arm. Gregor stops, sits back down, looks at my hand, then me, and a month ago I would’ve let go and backed off as quickly as possible, but now I stare back and keep holding on to him.

“Are you serious?”

He shrugs.

“We haven’t really talked about what any of this means to us,” I continue.

“If you don’t want to then fine.”

“Of course I want to!”

“Then what’s the problem?”

The problem is I might be falling in love, and I have no idea where he stands on that. If I go with him, I might not want to ever come back. The problem is I’m falling so deep so fast, it scares me, but at the same time, I’m so sure it’s what I want. I’m just not sure if it’s what he wants.

The problem is there seems to be no way out for me without getting my heart broken. The problem is I’m all in.

“There’s no problem,” I hear myself say.

“So you’ll come?”

“Yes.”

“Morning.” The word is whispered against his lips. Gregor tries to fight the smile but can’t help it. He can feel Philipp’s lips against his own, Philipp smiling into the kiss when he realizes Gregor’s awake. “Happy birthday,” Philipp continues, his lips wandering down Gregor’s neck.

It would be a perfect morning. Unless –

“We don’t have time for this,” Gregor mutters, still keeping his eyes closed. If he can’t see the hotel room around them, he can keep imagining that they are back home, that they have all the time in the world to do this. They’d have a lazy morning in bed together. Maybe Philipp would’ve tried to make him breakfast, but that would’ve failed miserably, and Gregor would spend most of the morning laughing at his boyfriend’s attempt, teasing him mercilessly. Maybe they would end up spending all day in bed, maybe on the couch watching television. Maybe they’d have a romantic dinner in the evening, maybe Philipp would surprise him with some silly present although Gregor insisted not needing anything.

It could have been one of the most perfect birthdays since that time years ago when he woke up as a winner of the Four Hills Tournament.

But it isn’t perfect. The reality is a cold hotel room and a time limit. Philipp needs to be packed and ready to travel to Germany. Gregor needs to drive back home and spend his birthday alone.

“Yes, we do,” Philipp whispers, bringing Gregor back to this moment. Philipp is sucking a mark to his neck, Gregor runs his hands through Philipp’s hair, enjoying having the other man close. He can feel Philipp’s lips leaving his skin. The younger man squirms next to him, seems to be fighting with the duvet. Then he feels a weight on his lap, Philipp straddling him.

When he finally opens up his eyes, he can see Philipp smiling, looking down at him. Philipp leans down to press a chaste kiss on his lips.

“Hi,” Philipp beams at him. Gregor grunts, trying to look grumpy. Judging by Philipp’s growing smile he knows he’s failing.

“We have rules and you’re breaking seven of them right now,” Gregor grumbles. Philipp has returned pressing short kisses along the side of Gregor’s neck.

“Shut up,” he mutters against Gregor’s neck, sucking beneath Gregor’s ear, his tongue swirling against the skin. Gregor groans, fighting to stay in the reality where this isn’t supposed to happen. They don’t have time, Philipp should be packing. He needs to go be with the team, and Gregor needs to focus on getting better, analyze his jumps, work harder.

“Stop thinking,” Philipp hums, lifting his face, meeting Gregor’s gaze. Philipp’s eyes are serious now, Gregor tries to turn his head away, look away from those eyes that are able to read every thought he has on his mind. “Look at me,” Philipp insists, though, slowly guiding Gregor to return his gaze again. They stare at each other, Philipp smiling gently.

“We have an hour before I need to be ready,” Philipp says. “And you need to have a day off. I called your brother. He’s bringing you dinner when you get back home. I told him to not let you work today. He’ll tie you to the chair if he has to. I’ll call you in the evening, we’ll watch a movie together or something. But now,” Philipp presses a kiss to Gregor’s lips, “it’s your birthday and we have an hour alone in bed together. So fuck your rules, I don’t want to be acting as your teammate right now. I want to be your boyfriend and I want to kiss you and wish you a happy birthday and spend an hour making you feel good. And I want you to enjoy it and not try to escape or think about work or how you should do better or be better or anything else. I want you to think about me and how good I’m making you feel. Can you please do that?”

Gregor stares at the man above him, sighs.

“Fine.”

Philipp smiles.

“Thank you,” he says, kissing the corner of Gregor’s mouth. “Now,” he mutters, tugging Gregor’s t-shirt up his lower back, “less clothes, more kissing, birthday boy.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Can’t you do anything without complaining?”

“It’s my birthday, not yours, I should get to make the rules.”

Philipp pulls back, sits on his lap. Gregor misses the warmth of him instantly. He knows he’s wasting time by useless bickering, and there’s a limit how long Philipp has the strength to listen to him. That limit is getting closer, and Gregor knows he needs to shut up. Philipp stares at him, fingers drawing slow circles on Gregor stomach as Philipp waits for Gregor to realize what an idiot he’s being right now.

“Fine,” Gregor mutters again, pulling Philipp closer. They breathe together. Gregor enjoys the weight of the other man on him.

“You are the most annoying person I’ve ever known,” Philipp murmurs, pressing his lips on Gregor’s again. The kiss is gentle, slow, and leaves Gregor wanting more. “I love you.”

The first week goes by easily enough. It almost seems like nothing has changed. The season is over, but it ended so abruptly that we both have a ton of work to do still. For media, for sponsors. I realize that even though his season was subpar, Gregor still has five times more sponsor work to do than I do. When I am already finished with everything and ready to start my summer holiday, he still has so much more stuff to finish.

With him locked in his study, I get bored. I’m not welcome into his study. It’s one of the rules he has. I don’t question it because it’s clear he needs his space. Some ways he is like a collection of contrasts. He needs to have his space, he absolutely can’t handle spending all the time with me. But he also seems to love to have me close. We have spent hours in bed together, mapping out each other’s bodies, and when he holds me after we’ve had sex, it almost feels like he might not freak out, if I told him what I feel for him. So far I’ve managed to keep my mouth shut. It’s too soon, I keep telling myself. Yet every day I fall deeper.

He guards himself with rules. Some of them are reasonable. Some of them are stupid. All of them I follow, because I need him to know that I will respect the boundaries he has. He needs to take things slow, and he doesn’t trust easily, that I know. I want him to trust me. I want him to know that I’m not walking away. So I follow the rules, all the rules. Even the stupid ones.

It’s been two weeks and he still spends most days on the phone or by the computer doing whatever. He doesn’t talk about it, and I don’t ask. I don’t see him much during the days, usually only if he takes a lunch break and most days he seems so tired, I’m afraid to say anything.

But one day he comes to have lunch, smiling, and I take my chances. I’ve been scrolling through social media for days now, trying to keep myself busy, when he’s working, and I have numerous new ideas for us to try. It’s boring to try them all alone. I tried to learn the stair shuffle thing but Gregor saw me and told me I looked like Bambi on the ice. That killed my motivation. Next I tried to get him to do the koala challenge with me, but Gregor has absolutely refused to let me try to climb on him. He has refused to do most of the other challenges too.

“No,” he says immediately when I ask him today. I frown.

“Come on! Don’t be boring.”

“Absolutely not,” he shakes his head.

“Please?”

“No. Last time you nearly broke my television. And you kicked it in my face.”

“It was an accident,” I exclaim. It truly was. I suck at football, and apparently I also suck at kicking toilet rolls. Last time I tried, I indeed ended up hitting Gregor in the face with the roll while he was filming me.

“Didn’t feel like it.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’m not kicking a fucking toilet paper roll around just because you are bored, darling.” The way he says darling makes my stomach flutter, and he knows that. He smiles at me, eyes sparkling, and clearly thinks he has already won. He looks gorgeous and smug, and he leans closer, knowing full well the impact he has on me. Cool, calm, composed, that is what he’s trying so hard to be for the outside world. He finds comfort in that, he needs to be in control.

But I’ve been living with him for two weeks now, and I know how to play this game. I know how genuinely happy he is when I get him to open up the tiniest bit and be silly with me.

“You’re just afraid you’re going to lose,” I smirk, because I know him, and I know how competitive he gets. He’s a professional athlete after all.

He stares at me, eyes narrow, and leans back, a little stunned. He’s silent for so long, I’m sure he’s not up for it today. But then his eyes soften and he shakes his head, surrendering to me. “Fine,” he huffs.

“Yay!” I cheer and run to get a toilet roll.

“But no filming!” he yells after me, when I rummage through the bathroom closet for extra toilet rolls. I roll my eyes. Of course no filming. Toilet paper doesn’t fit his brand. He freaked out the last time I got him to goof off with the toilet paper and took a picture of him laughing and kicking the roll. He made three new rules right then. No pictures, no videos, no evidence of the laughing, flirting, kind person he is with me. He didn’t elaborate, but I can see the difference between the person he is with me and the image he creates for the outside world. It means a world to me that I get to see behind some of those walls he has build around himself.

I come back with two toilet rolls. He tries to look indifferent, but I can see a small smile tugging his lips.

“Not here,” he says when I’m about to start. He quickly grabs my shoulders and spins me around towards the balcony. “New house rule.” He wraps his hands around me from behind, presses a lingering kiss to my cheek as he walks us towards the door. “No kicking toilet rolls inside the house.”

“You and your rules,” I sigh. He freezes behind me, and I bite my lip. Never complain about the rules. That’s rule number one with him. It’s a silent rule, one I have learned by myself. He seems to be waiting for the rule that would be too much for me. He seems to be waiting for me to find an excuse to leave.

I’m not leaving.

“I’m not complaining,” I add slowly. “I love – your rules.” I can feel him relax while I bite my tongue, relieved that I was able to catch myself in time.

He presses another kiss to my cheek. It almost feels like an apology, and that’s not what I wanted this to be. I don’t want him to apologize for the boundaries he needs to feel comfortable. I just wish he wouldn’t need all those boundaries with me.

“I’m talking to myself.”

“What? Are you okay?” Philipp’s voice on the phone sounds muffled. He’s probably still in bed. Gregor glances at the clock. It’s eight thirty. He is pretty sure he woke Philipp up by calling him too early. He is not sorry. Gregor has been awake for hours.

“No, I’m not okay. I’m talking to myself. Clearly I’m going crazy.” He sounds crazy, frantic in his own ears. This is not good. Gregor snuggles under the blanket. It only makes him more frustrated. He’s gotten so used to Philipp’s company nowadays that ten days without the other man – without anyone or anything to do – have felt twice as long. The house is too quiet around him, his bed too big without another person in it. Dinners have been miserable alone. He’s bored and boredom makes him antsy. And antsy makes the old memories come back haunt him. Philipp knows that.

“Have you had your morning coffee yet?” Philipp mumbles.

“Yes, I’ve had my coffee. Then I had breakfast and edited some photos and made plans to redecorate the living room. And I cleaned the basement. I cleaned the basement, Philipp, I’m slowly going insane.” He hates the sound of his voice, he sounds so out of control, agitated, truthful. It makes him feel vunerable, and he fights the need to hide all that behind a calm exterior. Philipp could see through that anyway. Besides, Philipp doesn’t judge him for being weak and vunerable, Philipp wants to hear all the stupid feeling he has. Philipp is an idiot.

“Well, the basement needed cleaning, I’ve been telling you that for months now.” Philipp sounds a bit more awake now. Gregor hears some shuffling, imagines Philipp maybe sitting up on the bed.

“Not helpful,” he mutters.

“You know what would be helpful?” Gregor can hear the smirk in Philipp’s voice. He knows what’s coming next before Philipp even has time to say it. “Sex.”

“We’re not having sex on the phone,” Gregor huffs.

“Oh, really now? What are you wearing?” Philipp sounds absolutely ridiculous.

“You’re ridiculous,” Gregor mutters, and Philipp chuckles.

“You know this is your own fault, right?”

Gregor blinks. Only Philipp would have the guts to point out that he only has himself to blame for all of this. Gregor both loves and hates it. Philipp is annoying.

“How in the hell is this my fault?” he demands to know.

“Had you told them we’ve been living together, we could’ve been quarantined together. Instead, you chose to keep it a secret, and here we are.” Philipp says it with teasing tone, knowing full well that now is not the time to have a serious conversation about their living arrangements again.

“Shut up.”

“You know I’m right. Besides what are you whining about?” Philipp laughs, changing the subject. “You practically live in a mansion, you have room to move around. Come spend the quarantine in my fucking shoebox and then we’ll have this conversation again.”

“I’m hanging up now.” He can hear Philipp laugh again and the sound alone makes him smile. He’s glad no one can see him right now. He looks like a crazy idiot. Calling Philipp was a bad idea.

Gregor sits by the kitchen counter when I come into the kitchen next morning, and it’s weird, because he’s usually still out on his morning run when I wake up. I must’ve been sleeping for longer than I thought, or maybe he woke up earlier than usual. It’s clear that something is different this morning.

He’s freshly showered, nursing his morning coffee, not looking at me, when I pad into the kitchen.

“Morning,” I mumble.

“Morning,” his voice is as quiet as mine.

Last night he held me close, kissed me like he didn’t want to stop. This morning he seems to be avoiding my eyes, and I don’t know what I should do. I used to be good at this, I used to know what I wanted and I wasn’t afraid to say it. With Gregor it’s different because the more I get to know him, the more I realize how easily everything can slip away. I could push him too far too fast, he might never be able to open up the way I need him to, he might not want things I want, things I need. For him, this could be just what it was last night. For me, this is already so much more.

I want to stay.

“Why is this awkward?” I ask after a long silence. I turn to Gregor.

“Isn’t that what morning afters are supposed to be?” He glances at me, then looks away again. There’s an ugly echo in his words. I don’t like it. It’s his past, those things he still keeps so close to his heart and doesn’t let me see. I hate it, because I am greedy and I want to know everything about him. I want him to want to share everything with me. I want him to open up to me.

“No?”

“Oh.” He’s silent for a long time. “They used to be for me.” It sounds like an honest confession, a little piece of that past that I am so keen to get to know. He shrugs, trying to act carefree. “Sneaking out of the room, trying not to wake up to other.”

“You or him?”

“Depends whose hotel room it was.” He stares at his coffee mug, reliving some nights or morning afters before me, and something ugly crawls inside me.

I’m jealous.

I don’t want to be just another name on his list of partners. I don’t want him to think those times, those people, when he is with me, because they shouldn’t matter anymore. Only this should matter: us. It’s stupid to be jealous of memories, I realize that, but he seems to have so many, and he disappears so easily into them. He escapes from me, leaves me alone, when he struggles with the memories. I hate it.

I need to be patient and understanding and whatever else he needs me to be. But I can’t lose myself to him. I matter too, and this won’t work if he’s never letting me in.

“Do you want me to go?” I ask quietly. His head snaps up.

“Do you want to go?”

“I asked first.”

He looks at me, keeps looking as he slowly puts the coffee mug back to the counter. I wish he would talk but instead he pulls me against him. He wraps his hands around my waist. Sitting down he’s shorter than me and has to look up to when we’re this close. His breath feels warm against my face. I fit perfectly between his thighs.

This could be our life, the thought slams into my head. Every morning could be like this one. Just like this moment, with us holding each other. No memories haunting him, no awkwardness lingering.

He kisses me.

I love kissing. I especially love kissing Gregor. Kissing him feels right and easy and I love his lips against mine. Everything is better with kissing. The plead for words dies down, the need for talking is gone, I can feel us being us again: in this moment together, no past haunting us.

The kiss is slow, because the morning is ours and we don’t have to hurry. It’s familiar because it’s us and we fit. It’s intimate and gentle, and it doesn’t have any expectation behind it. Things are great the way they are, and both of us seem to be fine just being there, kissing.

Gregor leans back, but doesn’t let go of me. He looks at me as I blink my eyes open and take a deep breath.

“Was that supposed to be an answer?” I ask. It’s a serious question, but my smile gives Gregor an out he still needs. He grins.

I love his smile, I love the easy flirting between us.

I hate that I let him escape, I hate that we take an easy way out of this. We flirt instead of talking, and it can only carry us so far.

“Was it not good enough for you?” he asks.

“Could’ve been better,” I shrug, trying to pull back, but Gregor doesn’t let me go. Instead he pulls me closer again. It’s easy to take the step forward.

“Really, now?” he smirks and presses a short kiss to the side of my mouth.

“Definitely,” I mumble. He kisses the other side of my mouth, then my cheek, my neck. He presses short kisses to my throat, sucks gently but not enough to leave a mark. His lips wander until they find mine again.

“Really?” he whispers the word against my lips.

“Uh-huh.”

“I don’t believe you,” I murmurs. “I think you loved it.”

“Not true.”

“Liar.”

“I think you should try again.”

“Okay.”

The kiss is as slow as the first one. It’s sweet and gentle, nothing too complicated. It feels like a lazy Sunday morning kiss, except it’s Tuesday and Gregor probably has a list of things to do later. He’s always working, but I’ll enjoy the short time we have together now.

“Better?” Gregor pulls back.

“Maybe one more time?”

He smiles.