Eyes Turned Skyward

”Happy birthday, grandpa!”

Of course it is Markus who refuses to behave like a normal person and has to make everything worse. Andreas wants to kick him, but he is sitting at the opposite end of the dinner table and there’s nothing Andreas can do to shut him up.

”You’re older than me,” Stephan crumbles, staring at his birthday cake like it has personally offended him as much as Markus did with his words. It breaks Andreas’ heart a little to see Stephan like that. The team insisted on celebrating Stephan’s birthday, they always do, and Stephan always hates it. He hates being the center of the attention and he especially hates it this year. Andreas wishes the dinner would be over almost as much as Stephan does. They have some private celebrating to do, though Stephan will try to complain about that too. But Andreas won’t listen to his complaints tonight. He will show how sexy and handsome and amazing he thinks his boyfriend is, even if he’s not in his twenties anymore.

“Yes, but I’m not the one having an age crisis,” Markus grins, finding his younger team mate’s foul mood hilarious.

“Shut up, Markus,” Andreas says, and luckily Karl is there to help and proceeds to kick Markus for Andreas. Markus winces but shuts up and doesn’t say anything while Stephan cuts his cake.

The dinner drags on for ages, that’s what it feels like for Andreas anyway. When they are finally done with the cake, Andreas is the first one to jump up from the table.

Markus smirks and opens his mouth, then winces again, when Karl kicks him to stop him from saying anything. Andreas ignores everyone when he rounds the table and holds out his hand for Stephan.

“I’m still able to get up without help,” Stephan mutters but takes his hand anyway.

“I know. You’re just taking too much time to do it,” Andreas smiles. “We have plans.”

“I’m tired.”

“Of course you are,” Andreas rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry. You don’t have to do anything but enjoy. I’ll do all the work.”

Stephan blushes. Andreas smirks.

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.

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.

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.”

“So hey.” He feels awkward. It’s stupid. He shouldn’t really be here, but Peter and Cene were bickering about stupid things so he didn’t really feel like standing in the middle listening to them, and Daniel looked so frustrated, Domen felt like he needed to do something.

It’s stupid. It’s not like they’re friends. They are definitely not friends. They are –

Domen doesn’t know what they are. They hook up. There’s absolutely no feelings involved. Domen doesn’t do feelings.

They are not boyfriends. They don’t talk. They have fun together whenever it suits them and go their separate ways after. It’s easy and uncomplicated.

And now Daniel looks at him with frustration in his eyes, and Domen sort of understands because he knows how awful it is to not be able to do your best when it matters the most.

“I’m really not in the mood,” Daniel says.

“What?” Domen asks before he realizes. It’s not like he could sneak off right now anyway. Peter threatened to watch him like a hawk and insisted on spending the last evening of the championships together as a team. Fuck him very much. “Oh. Uh. No. I just.”

Fuck it, why does he even care? He shouldn’t care. He doesn’t care. Fuck this, he wants to leave and not say anything. What could he even say? There’s nothing he can do to make Daniel feel any better about his jumps today. Norway won’t win a medal today. Neither will Slovenia, but Domen didn’t expect to get one anyway. Daniel maybe expected. Even without Granerud they have a strong team.

“Just what?” Daniel huffs.

“I don’t know,” Domen admits, softer than he would’ve liked. Daniel’s eyebrows shoot up. Domen gets defensive immediately. “Fuck you,” he sniffs, and Daniel – actually smiles at him.

“So you came just to curse at me?” he asks.

“Yes.” Domen juts his chin out. “Your jumps sucked.” Daniel doesn’t need him sugarcoating anything.

“Just wait until Planica,” Daniel smirks.

“I’m sure I’ll beat you,” Domen says smugly. They only compare lenghts on ski flying hills. It’s weirdly hot.

“Wanna bet?” Daniel sounds confident. The smirk on his face is gorgeous.

They shouldn’t be here, lying on the couch together.

Half an hour ago they were jumping up and down together, complaining about too low style marks, somehow trying to release the nervous energy that always came with watching a competition at home. Stephan was biting his nails, Andreas was too busy texting encouragements to the boys. During the competition it was somewhat easy to forget where they were. The excitement sucked them into the madness, into the oblivion.

Now the television is muted, and Andreas is still texting to the boys. It’s a constant stream of congratulations, Stephan can read it all, because Andreas rests the phone on Stephan’s stomach while his arms are wrapped around him. The television is showing competition highlights, reminding them, what happened, how it happened and who was part of it all.

Stephan shifts on his boyfriends arms, sighing.

“Hmm?” Andreas hums into his ear.

“What hmm?”

“I can hear you think,” Andreas mutters. “Want to share?”

So amazing!!! Call me as soon as you can. Wish we could be there, Andreas types to Markus. Stephan stares at the words. They seems to mock him.

They should’ve been there, that’s the thing. They should’ve been on that winning team, not lying on the couch back home. He shifts again, feeling the ugly feeling in the pit of his stomach. It keeps spreading, making it hard to relax on Andreas’ arms. He tries to take a few calming breaths but it doesn’t seem to be helping, and the downward spiral keeps getting closer.

There are these moments. Mostly he’s fine with how the things are nowadays, but there are the moments when the feelings are too much to handle, when everything seems to be too unfair, too cruel. This is one of those moments.

Andreas notices, of course he does.

“Hey,” he hears the soft whisper in his ear. “What’s wrong?” Andreas presses a short kiss to his cheek and puts the phone away. His arms around Stephan tighten, and Stephan puts his hands on top of Andreas’, locking them into place.

Three years ago they lied like this, when Stephan hadn’t made it into the team for the normal hill competition in Pyeongchang. It had felt like the world was ending, and Andreas’ arms around him felt like the only thing still keeping him afloat.

It gets harder to breathe when the past mixes up with the present.

“Hey, hey.” Hearing Andreas’ voice is soothing, feeling him against his back helps him focus enough to get his breathing back to normal. Words, he needs to explain, because Andreas always says it helps to get everything out, and he’s always right.

“I just – really wanted to be there.”

“I know, love. Me too.”

“And it’s not even – “ he tries to explain. “I just miss it so much.”

“I know,” Andreas says, and he does know, Stephan knows that. They both went through the same thing, the same emotions. They’re both at home right now, both living through the disappointment. Andreas wasn’t good enough, and Stephan wasn’t even allowed jump properly yet.

“Hey,” Andreas mutters. “It kinda feels like that night during the Olympics.”

“Yeah.”

“Remember what happened two weeks later?”

Like he could ever forget. “We got a medal.”

“Yeah, we did. And you said it was one of the best nights of your life.”

“It was.”

“Yeah so. We’ll get through this time too. And who knows what’ll happen in the future.” Andreas nuzzles closer, presses a kiss to his cheek again. He grabs his phone again, and Stephan almost fears that he’ll start texting again, but he just mutes it and puts it away again. He shuts off the television too, then turns all his attention to Stephan.

“You know what we should do?” he whispers against Stephan’s cheek, and Stephan can feel the smirk on Andreas’ face. He can’t help but smile, knowing Andreas will always find a way to make him feel better. “We should recreate that night we had in Korea after we won those medals,” Andreas says. His hands have started to wander on Stephan’s chest.

“Get drunk and have sex with the medals around our necks?” Stephan turns to look at Andreas. Andreas is smiling, and it’s impossible for Stephan to resist that smile. Andreas knows that.

“Do you have better idea?”

Markus wanders around, demanding to be cuddled. He always gets like that after something big has happened. He says there’s always too much energy bottled up in him and he needs someone to hold him so he doesn’t accidentally explode. Also he loves the physical touch.

Karl doesn’t mind wrapping his arms around Markus, when Markus needs it. He pulls the smaller man closer. He doesn’t need the touch like Markus does, but he loves it all the same. The emotions are always running high after the competition, and it helps him too, to have someone so close to share those feelings.

Markus hides his face to Karl’s chest and snuggles closer. He mutters something incomprehensible, and Karl agrees, because he would agree with everything Markus says right now.

Soon they will have golden medals around their necks, soon they’ll stand on the podium together. Karl remembers all those times they laid next to each other, dreaming about these Championships on the home ground. Sometimes it felt too risky to dream big, but they had shared those dreams with each other nevertheless, because there’s nothing Karl wouldn’t share with Markus.

Markus lifts his head from his chest, and their eyes meet. Karl smiles.

”Happy birthday.”

”You did it.”

They speak at the same time, then pause. Stefan hears Michael’s laugh from the phone. He holds the phone tighter, wishes he could feel Michael’s arms around him, wishes he could bury his face to Michael’s chest and celebrate his victory the best way he knows. Instead he’s standing alone behind the waxing cabin, the falling snow quickly melting on his shoulders and getting him wet. He shivers.

“How much time do you have?” Michael asks.

“Not much.” He hates admitting that. A long phone call couldn’t make up for Michael not being there, but it would be better than nothing. They both know they can make everything work on the phone, there has been countless of weeks they have been on different cities, countries, even continents sometimes. Michael always finds the right words.

“Where are you?”

“Hiding.”

Stefan can hear Michael laugh again. He closes his eyes, listens to his boyfriend who should have been here, was still here yesterday. Michael always makes everything that little bit more perfect. Michael could have made this day the best one he’s ever had.

“Listen to me,” Michael says, knowing full well what Stefan is thinking. “Two years from now we only remember that this medal was an amazing birthday present. You don’t remember that I wasn’t there. So stop moping and smile for me, champion.”

Stefan doesn’t say anything.

“You’re not smiling,” Michael complains.

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do,” Michael laughs. “I know you better than anyone, remember?”

“You do not!”

Michael laughs again. “I love you,” he says then, softer. “You were brilliant today, you always are. Even when you are struggling, you find a way to be the best you can be, and I love that. You’re amazing.”

Stefan sighs.

“Too mushy?”

“No. Just… I have to go.” Too soon, but they both knew they didn’t have much time right now.

“Oh, okay.” There’s still a hint of disappointment in Michael’s voice. Then, brighter, he says: “Can’t keep the media waiting. I’ll have you all for myself in a couple of days. Then we’ll celebrate properly.”

“Do you promise?”