Ivo Dolenec Sosa for WILLOWGLENHQ.

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@unchampion
Ivo Dolenec Sosa for WILLOWGLENHQ.

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“Ah, I don’t smoke,” Jasper replied with a friendly smile and a gentle dismissive wave. “But thank you for the offer.”
The smell reminded him of his father standing outside in the middle of summer, a cigarette or cigar in hand, as he surveyed his palace-like garden. He, too, never wore summer-appropriate clothing, opting to stay in his shirt and ironed trousers, something which Jasper had subconsciously taken on. He was glad that he’d never taken after his father as far as smoking was concerned, though.
“I know you, don’t I?” He then said. “Sorry, I don’t mean to just come out with it, uh… You’ve been on television, right? I just can’t place where specifically.”
Ivo accepted the rejection with a shrug of his shoulders, going to light his own cigarette thinking that'd be the end of it, only—the guy had more to say.
Ivo's jaw ticked. The smoke curled up in his mouth, soured with the reminder of what once was. He let the silence hang for a moment, face carefully devoid of any emotion, until his lips curled up around the cigarette. “Guess porno's close enough to television.” He pulled the cigarette from his mouth, and laughed around the smoke. “You must be into some real nasty stuff if you recognise me.”
❛ ⅋ 𝐢. 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 ( @unchampion ) ━ setting description : canyon valley country club.
🦢 ﹕ ʚɞ the country club patio hummed with low conversation and the soft clink of crystal beneath the glow of string lights stretched overhead. laughter drifted across the manicured lawn where members mingled in linen and pearls , pretending not to notice one another while noticing everything. seated beneath the shade of a wide ivory umbrella , vivienne appeared entirely untouched by the noise around her, one gloved hand resting beside an untouched glass of wine while dark sunglasses concealed most of her expression. she noticed them scanning the crowd almost immediately. without urgency , vivienne lifted two fingers and gestured toward the empty chair across from her table, an invitation that somehow felt more like a summons.
“ you look horribly underwhelmed , ” she observed once they drew closer, voice smooth as silk beneath the distant sound of live jazz. her gaze dipped briefly over the crowd before returning to them. “ good. ”a faint curve touched her mouth. “ it means you still have standards. ” she leaned back slightly in her chair , sunglasses catching the evening light. “ that’s becoming increasingly rare around here , ” vivienne added dryly , eyes following a loudly dressed couple passing near the fountain. “ these days people confuse attention with admiration. ” a soft hum escaped her. “ and the unfortunate thing is most of them can’t tell the difference. ”
She doesn't say anything. Hides behind those sunglasses of hers and merely raises her hand. There is no question in that, and no wasted movement, either. Ivo doesn't bother to fight the urge to do as he's told, slipping into the vacant seat as if he'd planned to right from the beginning.
You still have standards.
It feels like he could put together the puzzle that makes up Vivienne Langford with just that alone. Still, he leans forward a bit, trying to meet her eyes through the dark lenses of her sunglasses. “And you look like a woman who'd die before letting go of hers,” the words are laid out almost like an accusation, but he's grinning around them. Anything's better than boring. And Vivienne certainly doesn't seem like she'd ever be boring.
“'Well, I've had my fair share of both.” He winks over the table at her, just because he can, just to see if he might get something out of her that he hasn't seen yet. “It'd be a shame if I couldn't tell one from the other by now.” He turns his head a bit, watching the people pass. A stranger's eyes catch on his profile, and they stop like someone's pressed pause. He watches the recognition sink in, watches the excitement hike up their shoulders, watches them whisper to a friend, before he snatches his eyes back and turns to face Vivenne properly again.
“Once you've been to one club, you've been to them all,” he sighs, all young and spoiled and disappointed. Then he flicks his gaze back to Vivienne's face, mouth hooking back up like he's just shifting through masks. Like he's testing which one she likes best. “You're probably the most impressive thing here.”
( closed starter for @unchampion ) gabriel decided to head over to ivo's place instead of his own ⸺ he knew that his nose would most likely be buried in a book or chalking up some ideas on a new research. even then, as he sat on the younger's couch, coffee remained untouched, warm in his hand as his mind wandered. he snapped back to reality when he heard his name, and he offered an apologetic smile. "sorry, could you repeat what you were saying? i wasn't ... there's just a lot on my mind."
Ivo clicks his tongue, feigning more offence than he actually feels. It helps that Gabriel strikes a nice profile when he's thinking about something. Eases the sting of knowing his mind's already up and left the room.
“Nah. Don't think I will.”
He reclines on the couch, arms back, unlit cigarette dangling from his the edge of his lips. He smiles over at Gabriel, eyes unreadable. “You can help me light this, though. Then maybe I won't hold it against you.” His eyes flick over to the lighter on the table, then back to Gabriel. Naturally, he doesn't bother to ask please. “Maybe I'll even feel like listening to whatever you've got baking in there.” He taps a finger against the side of his head. Tick tock.
silver shakes her head , trying her hardest NOT to take the bait ivo is so clearly holding out for her . as if she hadn't nearly texted him , called him , even EMAILED him countless times , all ending up scrapped or tossed in the draft folder . she's got so many sharp replies on her tongue but she's almost scared to utter them . he'd come back with something sharper , meaner , and worst of all , true . " oh , stop it , ivo , " she spits , rolling her eyes and looking back towards him , brow creased in frustration . " you weren't a burden , neither was the marriage , " tone far too piqued for these words to have not been uttered before , nearly scripted at this point , " but i have to draw the line somewhere . i tried so hard — " she cuts herself off , unsure why she's even entertaining this . she's calling out to the dog , the golden retriever bounding towards her with a big smile , and silver leashes goldie with a scratch behind his ears . he's answering her question , of course with a remark , as she straightens from the dog . " of course i want you to be happy , " she tells him , tiredly , " i want you to figure it the fuck out ! you just need to get a fucking grip , at some point . so you retired ! big deal , people go through terrible things all the time , ivo , and they don't put their loved ones' LIVES at risk . " the words she's been building up for years that she hadn't had a chance to ever say . she can feel her throat burning , eyes burning in frustration and hurt ; she wished she could take it back , but she wonders — had she said it earlier , would they be in this situation ? " what was i supposed to do , come back to you ? i was scared of you , ivo . that's all you , NOT me . "
Ivo didn't think he was fishing for anything until he hears it from her lips. You weren't a burden. The fire he's kindled for Silver since that day he first saw her, post-victory, drenched in sweat, impossibly young and egotistical and with the whole world still open before him; is still burning somewhere in his chest. Even now, he worries it hasn't fully been doused. That it never really will be.
But of course, the relief is short-lived. The momentary spell he wove for himself is broken. He misses the simplicity of their younger days. How beautiful everything was then. How warm. He watches her now with the dog by her feet, the world at her fingertips, living a whole life that doesn't have a single trace of him in it.
“Big deal?” The thing is, he's exhausted too. She kept trying to get him to smile. To laugh. To talk. But Ivo has only loved one other thing with as much ferocity and devotion as he did Silver—and that was tennis. And no matter how much he tried to put how his retirement felt into words, she just never understood it. Not fully. Not the way he did. Not the way he felt it every single day. Even now. Even now. “Right. Right. You're right, of course. Like always. Never mind that it was an accident. Never mind that I was—” mourning, he almost says. But what's the point in voicing it? If his grief was so easily understood, they wouldn't be here in the first place.
“You know I never wanted to scare you. Or hurt you. Not on purpose.”
Ivo's just not built to keep the things he loves.
“I would've made up for it if you'd have given me the chance.”

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brown hues stare at ivo with a level of disdain that if jude held any favor with whatever gods were out there, then a true act of divine intervention would include a lightning strike smiting the smug son of a bitch standing in front of him. “ right, ” he begins, tone fraudulent in its stillness and bearing the edge of an impending knife about to slice. “ because you’re so well known for being humble. how could i forget ?? ” jude offers a close lipped smile, ignoring the barb against his intelligence and fingers snapping swiftly in mock recognition. “ tell me – is it the bitterness of being a washed up has been that makes you so intolerable to everyone within a one mile radius of you or was it the divorce ?? i imagine it’s probably both when no one cares to root for you anymore. ”
Ivo, as Ivo does, makes a show of it. On and off the court, he performs.
He rolls his eyes. He picks his ears. He holds his anger in his throat instead of in his hands like a good little showman. Violence would be crude, would be beneath him, would get him defaulted. And he's playing to win.
He's still smiling at Jude. It's all air. It's all water. All buzz buzz buzz. (He tunes out the word divorce like it's outside of his vocabulary entirely, like it doesn't still make him nauseous to think about). It all rolls off his back like it's nothing. Or at least that's how he's playing it. “Nah. It's none of that. I just find you an eyesore, is all.” Ivo flexes his fingers, lacing them together under his chin. The truth is somewhere to the left. He refuses to look it in the eye.
“It's funny, you going on about me being washed up. From one has been to one will be, I think you're gonna find yourself in the same boat soon enough.” This time when he laughs, it's with the force of all his resentment behind it. “You should be careful about what you put out there, or else those words'll come back to haunt you. Karma tends to be pretty funny like that.”
A pause. Then another smile, this time so soft it's almost bordering on affectionate. “Could take a while to catch up, though. So maybe I'll do karma a favour and speed things up a bit. Maybe I'll show up at your house tonight while you're sleeping. Maybe I'll bring my racket. My swing's still pretty good, y'know.”
status. closed starter for ivo dolenec sosa @unchampion setting. amber lounge, evening.
CELEBRITY SIGHTINGS WERE NOT UNCOMMON in willow glen, so having a (former, unbeknownst to julian at the time) pro tennis player in his company wasn't really anything special, though it wasn't everyday he got to talk to one even though he knew virtually nothing about the sport other than anna kournikova was on maxim's first 3d printed issue. somehow, julian had wormed his way into the small crowd that had gathered around the retired athlete, front and center, until everyone else had dispersed into their regular, non-celebrity lives. he quickly learned about the man's current predicament, his now non-presence in the sport bringing him into an upscale bar in texas on a weeknight instead of a training court in monte carlo or whatever. that must suck. “so… you probably can't go to a dog park and not feel triggered, huh? or a retirement home. y'know, on account of all the tennis balls." he didn't mean it to be cruel, it was just something that made sense to say out loud. “must feel like a tough break up, then, huh? like when you start seein' their face everywhere. ‘cept you probably don’t see your ex's face in a golden retriever's mouth or at the end of some boomer's walker.”
The attention is something of a double-edged sword. Ivo's pride sings, yes, but at the cost of re-opening old wounds. Every sentence framed in the past tense makes his knee throb, his shoulder ache. Ivo Dolenec, you were my favourite player. You were amazing on the court. Ivo Dolenec, you used to be something.
By the time the crowd disperses, his smile's already been worn thin. It drops all the way when the man across him parts his lips and mouths off like they're friends. Like Ivo would listen and laugh.
He takes a sip of his drink and levels his companion an unamused look.
Finally, he delivers a cold, simple, “you should talk less.”
if there’s one thing about jude that could be said as a sure fire thing it’s that once he has his mind made on something, it’s near tunnel vision until he sets out to accomplish whatever it is. in this case, since his ankle decided to crumple on him mid-competition in a very public and also very embarrassing way, his sight has been set on building his strength back up. the prospect of injuring himself into an early retirement from skating ( even if at twenty-eight the teenagers he skates with from their shared coach call him pre-historic ) is bullshit and the multiple existential crises jude has had since are humbling. enough so that he’s doing all he can to keep up whatever muscle he can and not have one scrawny to fuck leg. he was sympathetic toward ivo – different sports but similar stories ending in injury, but it’s amazing what one shitty ass attitude can do to a person. for jude it’s motivation to push himself further in his physical therapy progress so he doesn’t end up as miserable of a prick as the ex-tennis star. “ oh, i’m sorry … between the two of us which one has olympic medals ?? ” jude snarks back with a scoff, somewhat annoyed at himself for rising to the bait of ivo. it’s not even worth it to offer any anecdotal recovery comments since progress isn’t what the other wants to hear. “ do you have so little else to do that you sit around speaking in fucking riddles like a goddamn sphynx to whoever is unfortunate enough to walk by you ?? ”
Ivo cocks an eyebrow. “Yeah... I've got one of those too.” What, like it's hard? “I just don't go showing it off to everyone.” He smiles placidly, like the bragging is beneath him. As if he's not the one that provoked Jude in the first place.
Watching him puff up in anger is a little like watching a chihuahua try to come off threatening. All that anger that's too big for its body. And a body too small to do any real damage. It's almost comical. “They sound like riddles to you?” Ivo laughs. It really does pay to be an ass. He's feeling much better already. “If that's the case then I'd worry more about the lack of action up here,” he taps a finger against his temple, “than what's happening down there.” He glances down at Jude's leg, then flicks his eyes back up with mock pity.
she's come ALL this way . . . started a new life in a new town , determined to make the most of a fresh start . she's still young , she tells herself in the mirror every morning , it's not PATHETIC to be starting at square one again at thirty three . her therapist tells her to say kind things to herself , but she can't help but FEEL pathetic when she looks around to empty walls , alone except for the golden retriever she'd promptly adopted and had become codependent upon . she can't BELIEVE her eyes when she spots ivo , a frown creasing her brow as she works hard to not let memories flash across her mind , refuses to let tears well up . " what are you even doing here ? are you stalking me ? " she doesn't think it's the case — just a higher power playing an incredibly sick prank on her — but part of her is afraid . there's no real need , of course : in this instant her feet are planted firmly upon the ground , arms crossed over chest as the golden retriever runs happily with its peers in the local dog park . his question earns a scoff , eyes leaving his to watch the canine entertain himself . " oh yeah , SO HAPPY , " the sarcasm is palpable . " i don't know . . . being divorced at thirty three with a dog in the middle of nowhere , texas isn't exactly what i'd hoped for myself . not exactly what i pictured . " her gaze returns to him , scanning hesitantly as if to ensure that he's all there , all in one piece . " are you happy ? " it's almost an accusation rather than an inquiry — you did this to me , she wants to say , this is your fault .
Ivo has to keep reminding himself that he deserves this. The distance, the disdain, the way she talks to him now without any of the softness of before. It's almost easier to stomach when imagining this is all just punishment. That this is just something he has to go through to get out the other end of his self imposed torment.
That doesn't make it any less painful to look at her though, to hear her speak to him like she doesn't want him here.
Ivo scoffs. “We could've avoided all this if you didn't just disappear. Maybe if you'd left a note, or a message, then I would've known not to come.” And there he goes, doing what he does best, shifting the blame. Now they're both here and he'll be too stubborn to be the one who leaves. He knows himself enough to know that for certain.
He follows her gaze over to the park, wondering which one's hers. They'd talked about getting a pet once, he thinks. Bundled up in that big picture of marriage-house-kids. It's nothing but could've-beens now, left to fester in the dusty corners of their minds.
“I'm not the one who served the papers,” he reminds her, with not a small amount of resentment. Never mind that he's the one who forced her hand to begin with. “But I'm sure you must be relieved now. Must be nice to be unburdened by me, by our marriage, huh?” He makes no effort to mask the bitterness.
Maybe Ivo was the one who strained their once happy, idyllic marriage, but Silver's the one who actually punctuated the end of their story.
Are you happy? And he stops to consider. “No,” he answers. I'm trying seems too earnest. And getting there seems too optimistic. “Bet you'll be glad to hear it.”
──── had coined herself to be somewhat of an expert when it came to days like these . she can see it written all over his face ⸺ the despair , the overwhelming desire to crawl inside of his own skin until he was nothing but a shell of himself for days at a time . nope , not on her watch . hand reaches for his once she's decided she's spent enough time rotting on her phone , brows knit together as grip on his hand is used to try and pull him off the couch . " well don't say it like that . . . i'm not putting up with you ⸺ i'm your friend and i want to hang out with you . and when we're hanging out you can't be sad because then i'll be sad and we both know neither of us want that to happen , " huffs , pulling at his arm harder as if it hasn't already been made abundantly clear that she alone doesn't have the strength to move him . " come on ! it's such a pretty day outside . . . we could go for a walk . . . or go get a treat somewhere ⸺ whatever you want , but you have got to get up , " she says , sentence punctuated by another pull .
For a few seconds Ivo simply lets Ollie tug, pulling on him like some ragdoll until he finally relents with a sigh and pushes himself up off the couch. He finds it's much harder to deny Ollie compared to everybody else.
“I still think you're crazy for wanting to hang out with me, by the way.” But he laughs anyway. And if it sounds a bit forced then that's no one's business but his. “What I want is to lie down and think about all the things that went wrong in my life. But since that's clearly off the table, we might as well do what you want.”
He grunts a little, rolling his right shoulder, where the ghost of an ache presses against his nerves. This fucking day, seriously. “Think I might already be regretting this.”

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Ignacio Seijo's outtakes of Enzo Vogrincic for the Uruguayan film 9.
He's thinking about trying to start attempting to do something. Ivo has too much free time than he knows what to do with, and an ever present itch to move his hands, his feet, that's starting to drive him crazy.
“What's a good hobby for a tall, handsome, retired athlete?” Shopping around for hobbies feels a little demeaning. Like this is something he should've already figured out. But what's a guy to do when your job was your hobby, and once you've lost one you've lost the other? “You got any ideas?”
@spicedrums, tobias n.
There's a slight chill in the air. Ivo's decided to make the most of it by stepping out for a smoke. He should probably stop. But if he started going down the list of things he should be doing, well, there'd be no end, and he wouldn't be Ivo Dolenec then, would he?
Still, tonight at least inspires a more charitable mood in him than usual. He holds out his carton of cigarettes, and offers a polite enough, “want one?”
@empiresrise / @chrryredds, ?
The awful thing about memory is that it persists. The terrible thing about habits is that it takes longer to unmake than to make.
Here is the reality, in all its cruel and unflinching truth: the first time Ivo sees Silver again, he smiles. It's a quick thing, flickering. But for that split second of recognition, when he takes her in in all her glory, the corners of his mouth curl up. Like it's before, like he's spotting her in a crowd for the first time, like he's coming home to her, like they're right back at the starting line again.
And then the memory sinks in. Something dims. Something in him goes cold. He remembers that night, how sad she looked then, how scared. How she shook when she climbed out the passenger side door, and how he knew, even then, staring at her back as she walked away, that it was all coming to an end.
It's hard to look at her now, so beautiful still, so familiar. “You look good.” It's an accusation masquerading as a compliment. His eyes narrow ever so slightly. “Happy.” He can't help the suspicion that laces his voice, the urge to accuse her of cruelty, for being heartless enough to have moved on.
Anger is wonderful like that, thoughtful like that. It burns so bright it blocks out all the things that make sense. All your rationale. Ivo thought he was better about it now, but that was until he ran into something he thought he'd already long buried.
“Are you happy?”
But the terrible awful thing about love is that it persists, that it takes longer to climb out of than fall into.
@coyotetm, silver m.
Being a miserable bastard gets easier by the day.
Ivo tilts his head, eyeing Jude like he might fall apart at any second. Like he might even want him to.
“How's the recovery?” He's smiling around a tone sharpened to a fine point. The desired answer would be: bad. Would be: we're in the same boat. If Ivo can't have what he wants, why should Jude? “Y'know, they say time heals all wounds, but I'd be worried if I were you. Spend enough time down here and the rest of the world's gonna forget. Gonna replace you with some younger, shinier, more durable model.”
@revclaticns, jude h.

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Something makes a sound at his feet.
Ivo looks down, cigarette dangling from his lips, to find some fuzzball attempting to eat one of his discarded cigarette butts. Smoke curls out his nose as he uses his foot to pick the thing up and move it aside.
It's surprisingly well behaved for a stray, is what Ivo's thinking, right before someone rounds the corner with an unmistakably worried look in their eyes, mouth pursed like they're about to go pspsps before spotting Ivo.
“This grungy looking thing yours?”
@h3artlines, jihoon k.
The future used to look a bit like a picture book. A man, a woman, a child. Funny, how tennis never factored into that, then it was taken from him and suddenly the future seemed more unclear than ever.
Now it's just a man and his wounds asking himself, was the anger worth it?
Looking at Noemi here, now, is a little like looking into what could've been. Like peering back into an old dream he forgot he had.
“You ever regretted it?” Ivo finds himself asking, before he really stops to think about it. “Keeping him.”
@fawnvinyl, noemi c.