Chapter Text
Part One
It was probably an unwise decision to be at a party one week before the Australian Open, but the guilt didn’t feel real when everyone else around him was getting fucked too. ‘
Novak was certain he had seen Nick Kyrgios drinking a bottle of milk beside the stairs and Grigor Dimitrov was typically the life of the party, stubbornly controlling the music selection and booing anyone who tried to stop him.
The room was loud and rowdy, filled with privileged models and tennis stars who didn’t care enough to be out on the practice courts, practicing the same serve a million times over. Besides, Novak thought, aa a pretty blonde kissed him extravagantly on the cheek, besides-he would win the damn thing anyways. He was world number one , after all and he said as much to the girl who just grinned at him and patted his cheek like he was rambling nonsense.
‘‘I have 14 grand slams.’’ He boasts to her as she swipes the bottle of vodka from his sweaty fingers.
''And I don’t care.'' She said with a curt smile. ''Or,'' she added a moment later. ''Do you have fourteen fingers..if you get my drift?''
Novak just blinked at her before waving both of his hands with a slight grin. ''Not quite-but.''
The girl laughed before she grabbed his hand and lead him through the dense throng of people. There was a large TV in the centre of the living room, the ones that they would use for display in shops and on it was an enhanced version of Andy Murray who was muttering into a microphone. Novak’s legs bumped into the girls and she stopped and raised an eyebrow at him. The words retirement flashed on the screen. There were sentences after that, of course, stuff about how it might be his last tournament but only one word stood out; retirement retirement retirement.
''C’mon.'' She insisted, tugging on his hand. She hadn’t noticed the telly, it appeared no one had. The raucous noise went on, Rihanna played shamelessly and no one seemed to care that Andy Murray was going to retire.
''Noel.'' The girl said.
''Novak.” He corrected, although not unkindly. More like an afterthought, his mouth instinctively replying as Murray took a sharp inhale of breath and looked away from the camera. Like he was hiding something.
Something inside him leapt for joy. This was a good thing, right? This meant less competition and easier draws, easier titles. Easy . But yet it was hard to see Murray like that on the cusp of breaking down. Novak still felt bad.
“Brown eyes.'' The girl said, flicking his cheek with a sharp manicured finger. ''What are you looking at?'' She insisted glancing from Novak to the TV almost passively as if the sight of a forlorn Andy Murray did not phase her. And it occurred to Novak that it probably wouldn’t.
To the average man or woman, Andy Murray’s name did not hold any true meaning or significance, he was just another face in the public eye, nothing of substance. But to Novak, Andy had marked some of the most important parts of his life and he didn’t even know it yet; when they were spotty 12 year olds and Andy whooped his ass on the court, fuelling a desire deep within Novak that he didn’t even know existed to win, to be the best, to never be humiliated like that again. When the only time Novak had lost at a Wimbledon final was to Andy and he had felt the jeers of the British crowd even weeks later. When he beat Andy to win his first Roland Garros after years of trying. Andy was there. And now it seemed he was retiring. Those moments would never happen again.
It was a sad thought that Novak immediately decided he should distract himself with the beautiful lady in front of him, so he smiled and said. ''I’m not looking at anything.'' and allowed himself to be led by her and away from his thoughts.
***
Andy Murray had looked like a lion when he beat Novak at Flushing Meadows, his hair was wild and free, almost golden-ish in the daylight, like a strangely Murray-esque halo above his head that had protected him from the weird glare of the sunlight.
Novak concluded, that this was the only reason he had lost. Because Murray had the help of some guardian angel somewhere, not because Novak had just played seriously bad. But there was no way he was going to admit that, he was supposed to always be better than Murray.
Even then, after the trophy ceremony, at the players dinner, when Andy made his speech and even graciously gave credit to Novak, he had scowled and stared down at his red wine whilst Jelena had pinched his arm from beside him.
He had vowed to himself to never lose to Murray in a Slam Final ever again, and whilst it had happened the next year at Wimbledon, he subsequently beat him in numerous Australian Open finals.
It made him feel better, when, at the 2016 Australian final, instead of looking like a lion, Murray had looked like a mice, scared and resigned to the fact that he would never win that slam and Novak had liked that it made him feel good.
And afterwards, at the players dinner, Novak never said anything gracious about Andy, said nothing about Andy at all. And Novak had liked that too.
***
Why was he so bothered?
Andy Murray retiring was a good thing for tennis, really. Now,the British media wouldn't be able to push the narrative of Murray being part of a “Big 4.” and Wimbledon crowds would have no reason to boo every other player who wasn't Scottish and bashed their racquet against the back of his shoes before every return game.
But in fact, and Novak was sure, the main reason he was bothered wasn't the fact that Andy Murray was retiring, it was the timing of his doing so. Why had he announced that he was retiring just before the tournament and was selfishly going to steal all of the headlines? It was annoying. It annoyed him.
“Doesn't it annoy you ?” He posed the question to Roger Federer whilst they were stuck opposite each other at the Sunnyside Cafe. The word “stuck” being used as it was a complete PR move to convince people that they didn't actually hate each other, as so widely reported.
There was a flash from outside signifying the presence of the paparazzi so it appeared that it was working.
Roger looked cranky that Novak had even spoke, to be perfectly honest. They never typically talked in these situations, with Roger preferring to watch Netflix movies on his phone whilst Novak swiped through apps mindlessly.
Okay, so whilst they didn't hate each other they definitely didn't like each other either. But then again who did Roger Federer actually like? Novak was convinced he was the modern day Ebenezer Scrooge except with the reverse transformation. He'd gone from one of the most liked players on the tour to one of the most reclusive and no one even knew why .
There had been rumours that it had been a girl that had broken his heart once upon a time but then again there were rumours that Dominic Thiem had a long lost son who went to school in Iceland and apparently Stefanos Tsitsipas had 100 nude pictures of himself on his phone (that one could be true.) So these things had to be taken with caution.
“It would have been better to announce it after the tournament,” Novak persisted. “Once I've lifted my fifteenth slam of course.'' He added. He wasn't sure how much he meant that last part but he'd said it anyways to gauge the reaction from Federer. They were still rivals, after all. Federer blinked at him before glancing back down at his phone. “Well, I'd rather you win than anyone else.'' He grits out reluctantly.
Novak raises an eyebrow, surprised. “And yourself?”
“Let's be honest,here.” He says, running a hand through his hair. “I'm not winning this slam again. Ever.” Novak stared at him carefully, not believing a single word. What was this, reverse psychology? Marian had warned him about this, like playing a game of chess and sizing up what your opponent was going to do next. Unfortunately, Federer looked quite serious, so this wasn't as simple as it appeared to be.
“I don't believe you.” Novak said, leaning his arm against the table. They were both sat right beside the large windows that paned from top to bottom, first victims to the swell of heat that was typical of an average day in Melbourne. The sun exposed the hard lines of Federer's face and made his brown hair illuminate gold, like some kind of fireball. With the Australian Open in a couple of days, tennis fever was infecting the city, there had been billboards of Serena Williams, Rafael Nadal and despite his reclusiveness, Roger Federer because 1. He was the defending champion and 2. he was still Roger Federer.
''You don’t need to believe me.” Federer said with a shrug. “I'd just rather you win it than..” he trailed off as his eyes darted behind Novak towards the door of the cafe.
With curiosity preying upon him, Novak was forced to twist his body around just so he could see the strange sight of Andy Murray and Rafael Nadal entering at that exact moment. They both appeared extremely casual for two men who happen to be millionaire tennis players in contrast to Novak and Roger who had designer watches on their wrists and gold chains around their necks. What were they even doing here together? Unless their agents had had the same idea, then there was no reason for them to be hanging out together. Unless, of course, unless they were actually friends .
Federer suddenly stood up sharply and Novak almost caught whiplash, turning quickly to look up at him. “Erm, what are you doing?” Novak demanded with a frown. He gestured towards his watch. “We have at least half an hour left to make this seem real.” If Roger left now in a huff for whatever reason, the headlines would probably go something along the lines of Roger Federer storms away from enemy Novak Djokovic and the hatred continues! Which was exactly what they didn't ideally want.
“I'm leaving.'' Roger said casually, stating the obvious.
“But what about-what about the tuna sandwich?” Novak tried, somewhat frantically. “You barely touched it.”
“Bye, Novak.” Federer said with finality, striding away from the table and past Murray and Nadal who stopped to look at him. It was fortunate that the cafe wasn't packed at all with the odd elderly couple and crying child so the embarrassment of it all was limited with its impact. However the scene of Federer walking out led the other two tennis stars to notice Novak himself who was now, quite sadly stuck having lunch on his own.
He could see Murray debating on whether to join Novak at his table or sit elsewhere and eventually he decides on the latter, settling for waving at Novak instead. Novak just stares back rigidly, not sure whether he wanted to wave back or not. He got out his phone like he usually did when placed into unfortunate positions and started swiping through apps, going on Instagram and finding a recent post from Kyrgios on Murray retiring, all sappy and sentimental the way Nick Kyrgios usually never is. So Novak figures if Nick Kyrgios could post a tribute then surely he could do one too. People would be expecting one anyways, seeing as they were the same age and closely associated with each other.
So he found a couple of pictures from the web and wrote some words trying to be as sentimental as he possibly could and came up with a pretty decent paragraph, if he did say so himself.
He posted it and then checked some of his notifications before placing his phone down at the table. He looked up then and caught Murray's eye who was gesturing at his own phone and mouthing “Thanks.” From across the room with a small smile.
***
Novak thinks the reason he never feels completely comfortable around Murray is because he's seen him in compromising situations and he isn’t quite sure what the formula is on how to behave after that.
On the court it's easy, he has a game plan and patterns, things he and Marian have worked on but off the court there is no “plan.” and he is completely lost.
It’s hard to forget what happened in November 2016, after Andy had beat him in the ATP finals and became the world number one, at the party afterwards which Novak had only gone too because he'd been so mad, so utterly furious for losing so convincingly that he had gone to get drunk off his face and forget that it ever even happened. That time he had drank so much vodka that he'd almost kissed Stan's girlfriend which definitely didn't go too well.
Everyone had seemed extra happy at the party, Judy Murray was going around boasting it to as much people that she possibly could and the guests seemed more smiley than usual,like they were so desperately happy that someone else was finally number one instead of it almost always being Roger, Rafa and Novak.
But ironically, the new world number one was nowhere to be seen. It had been Nishikori who had suggested that they all start looking for him and whilst almost everyone else had agreed, Novak had sworn violently and turned away.
“Why should we look for him anyways?” Novak had grumbled. “Maybe he doesn't want to be found.”
He had stayed by the bar most of the night, becoming best friends with the barman called Pedro who was a big fan of Nadal and coffee and peanuts and Ed Sheeran and occasionally long plane rides. He had drank so much that his bladder suddenly protested at the abuse and forced him to stumble around for the toilets like a blind man.
He eventually found the universal stick figure and pushed the door open and spotted Murray in the corner, with his head tilted back whilst a man knelt at his feet and sucked him off. It was a miracle that Novak somehow didn't make a sound, but his eyes widened like saucers and he took several steps back so he was hidden in the shadows. The question is; why did he stay? He should have walked straight back out, yet he didn't. He stayed put and listened as Murray grunted out some colourful swear words whilst the slick sound of a mouth against a dick was utterly prominent. He tried not to breathe, though of course he didn't want to die so he tried not to breathe too loudly .
“Yeah.” Murray had said, in that painfully dry way of his. “ Yeah .” Yeahyeahyeahyeahyeahyeahyeah and Novak felt his hand shaking by his side. He was definitely sober now. He peeked again just at the moment that Murray's brows had twitched, his knees buckling slightly, his eyes flying open.
Novak had left at that point, causing a commotion as he struggled to pull open the door and accidentally knocked his leg onto one of the sinks. Novak often wondered if Murray ever saw him or not, if he had but was too drunk to remember, or if he had remembered but didn't want to embarrass him.
He's never looked at Murray the same way after that. It's not normal to know what someone looks like when they come and then it's not normal to think about it afterwards.
Maybe that's Novak's real problem with Andy retiring, the fact that he's retiring and all Novak can think is I know what you look like when you come. Even when he had beaten him in Doha 2017 all he could think was I know what you look like when you come. When he had been at the party when Andy announced his retirement on the TV, all Novak had thought was i know what you look like when you come.
Things would never be the same again.