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Jannik called just as Taylor was on his way to the airport. For a moment, Taylor thought about ignoring it, about switching his phone off and enjoying the rest of his taxi ride in peace. About leaving Paris without, just for once, being caught up in the insanity of Jannik Sinner.
Taylor answered on the third ring. "Yup?" He'd been going for nonchalant. He didn't sound nonchalant. Fuck, he hated himself sometimes.
"Are you still in Paris?" Jannik's voice was as flat as usual, betraying none of the weakness that he'd shown during his match that day.
Taylor grimaced. He'd already checked out of his hotel, already booked his flight. But - "I mean, yeah. Technically."
"Can you come over?"
Taylor pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose. "Fuck, Jannik. Why?"
A pause, and then - "I want to see you."
"Yeah?"
"Yes," Jannik said. Even through the phone, Taylor could hear the sigh in his voice. He was always sighing at Taylor. Taylor really should have been annoyed by it. "And - ah, I don't know. Please?"
Slowly, Taylor exhaled. "Fuck you, man," he said, and hung up.
For a moment, he closed his eyes. His phone felt as heavy as a brick in the palm of his hand. Then, he unbuckled his seatbelt, and tapped on the glass between him and the taxi driver.
"Hey, can we turn around?"
The corridors of Jannik's hotel felt vaguely eerie, their dim lights almost seeming to flicker with every step that Taylor took. By the time that he arrived at Jannik's door, Taylor was beginning to regret every decision that had led him here. Still, he raised his hands and knocked. After a few moments, the door swung open.
"Ah," Jannik said. He looked dishevelled, his red curls sticking up unevenly, but not unwell, which was somewhat reassuring. "You came."
Taylor felt himself smile ruefully. "Well, you called."
Jannik pulled a face, like he couldn't believe that he had that kind of influence over Taylor, but eventually stepped backwards so that Taylor could come inside.
The room was kind of a mess, towels and empty bottles strewn across the floor, but that was alright. Taylor hadn't come to criticise the way that Jannik was living. It would have been kind pf poor timing, anyway. Inhaling slowly, he sat down on the edge of Jannik's bed, and ran a hand through his hair.
"So," Taylor said. "Why am I here?" Surely not to fuck? was the part that stayed unspoken. He'd seen Jannik out on court today; he'd looked pale, feeble, almost corpse-like. If Jannik tried to top in this state, he'd probably end up dying inside Taylor and, fuck, wouldn't that be a hell of a story to tell the French cops.
Folding his arms against his chest, Jannik slumped down next to Taylor. "I don't know." His lip was jutting out in something close to a pout.
"Okay," Taylor said slowly. He wasn't used to seeing Jannik vulnerable, and it felt vaguely disquieting. After all, it wasn't as if he and Jannik had the kind of relationship where they talked about things. What was Taylor even supposed to do in this situation? What would he say if Jannik was someone normal, like Tommy? "Um. Okay. How are you… holding up?"
"I'm fine," Jannik muttered, looking up at the ceiling.
"Bullshit," Taylor replied, half-laughing. Surely he hadn't missed his flight for this? "Bullshit. Try again."
Jannik frowned. "What do you want me to say, Taylor? You watched it, I am sure. I lost. I lost, and now it's over. That is all."
Taylor snorted. "Only you would word it like you screwed up. Bro, you were fucking dying out there. I don't think anyone's going to blame you for that one."
At Taylor's words, Jannik's frown only deepened. The dying rays of sunlight filtering through the slits in the hotel blinds were making his curls begin to glow, almost halo-like. If this had been a different kind of night, Taylor might have reached out and touched them.
"It doesn't matter," Jannik said, his voice low and petulant. "I still lost. This was a very big opportunity, and I lost."
Taylor laughed again. He knew that he should probably feel bad, but fuck, it was more than he could stand to hear a four-time slam champion bitch and moan at him, when Taylor's best result was - and probably always would be - nothing more than a final. "Wow, Jannik. Really, I might cry. God, no one has it harder than you, huh?"
For the first time since Taylor had walked in, Jannik turned to face him, fixing him with a blank stare. His eyes looked almost disturbingly hollow, entirely devoid of their usual glimmer. Against his will, Taylor felt himself soften. God, he was pathetic.
"Ugh. Fuck. Look. It's not the end of the world. There's always next year. For both of us, actually. Hey, maybe I'll even make it to the second round."
"I suppose."
"You suppose?"
"It is just -" Jannik began. "People talk, no?"
"What, like journalists? Yeah, no shit," Taylor replied, his irritation beginning to rise again. "That's what they tend to do. It's kind of their whole job."
"They are going to say I've wasted this opportunity," Jannik continued, either not noticing or choosing to ignore Taylor's tone. Probably the latter. "They are going to say that I'll never be like Carlos. It is… upsetting."
And there it was. Carlos. Always the elephant in the room. Taylor had wondered more than once or twice if he was who Jannik was really thinking about when they fucked. After all, if he wasn't, then who was Jannik thinking about? Surely not Taylor. What the fuck did he have to offer, other than a willingness that none of the other players on the tour seemed to possess?
Taylor wasn't even quite sure how Jannik had figured it all out. Had he let his gaze linger for too long on the other guys in the locker room? Laughed too nervously when Tommy and the others talked about wifing up their girlfriends? Taylor wasn't sure. Either way, he must have given it away somehow, because, just as he'd been packing up to leave after he'd lost the final in 2024, Jannik had knocked on the door of his hotel room, stepped inside, and fucked up Taylor's head more than losing a match ever could. And, really, nothing much had changed since then. Here they were, in another hotel room, in another bed. Taylor was still fucked up; Jannik still didn't seem to care.
"Taylor?" Jannik said. For once, his voice sounded uncertain; Taylor must have gone quiet for longer than he'd realised.
"You know what's really upsetting, Jannik?" Taylor said. "I missed my flight to come here."
Jannik blinked, as if shocked by the reminder that Taylor did, in fact, have a life outside of him. "Well, I am sorry about that."
"Yeah," Taylor continued. He could feel the skin on his neck beginning to heat. "You fucking should be, man. Because you still haven't told me why the fuck I'm here. Because if you just wanted someone to whine at, then, fuck, you really picked the wrong audience. You have your coaches, and your family, and whichever girl you're currently getting head from for all of that bullshit. And you know what, Jannik? I think you know that. So, I'll ask you again. Why am I here?"
Jannik swallowed dryly. His lips were as pale and cracked as usual, so obviously uncared for that it was almost endearing. "It is like I said. I wanted to see you."
Taylor snorted. "Yeah, okay. Ambitious of you to think that you're going to be a good fuck after what happened today."
Jannik frowned. "No, I didn't mean that I wanted to see you for that."
"No?" Taylor replied. His head was beginning to feel fuzzy, confused. Fuck, he hated how easily Jannik could do that to him.
"No," Jannik said, his voice a little strangled.
"Then why?"
Jannik didn't reply. Instead, he just leaned forwards. His breath was oddly sweet as it brushed against Taylor's face, and his eyes were so piercingly green that it almost took Taylor's breath away. Taylor opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it again. Just waited instead.
It shouldn't have really been a surprise when Jannik kissed him. Still, the feeling of Jannik's lips against his was vaguely uncomfortable. Alien, in a way. For all of the sex they'd had, they'd never really kissed. For some reason, that had always just felt a little too intimate, like something two people who did the things that they did together shouldn't be allowed to do. Of course, that didn't mean that Taylor hadn't thought about it, alone in his hotel room with nothing apart from his dick and his imagination. But he would never have dared to initiate it. Never would have dared to imagine that this was something that Jannik had thought about too. Did it mean something, the fact that Jannik had?
After a few moments, Jannik pulled away and inhaled sharply. With his cheeks flushed and lips swollen, he looked strangely beautiful, pretty in a way Taylor had never really thought that guys could be. Taylor wanted nothing more than to touch him again.
"Fuck," Taylor breathed. "Can I just like, give you head?"
Jannik let out a sound that could've been a laugh. "Please."
Later, when they were laying together in the bed, their hands next to each other but not quite touching, Taylor rolled over to face Jannik.
"Hey," he said. "Have you ever, like. With Carlos?"
Tilting his head, Jannik narrowed his eyes. "What with Carlos?"
Taylor ran a hand across his jaw, covering his mouth to hide his already growing embarrassment. "Come on, bro. You know. Have you ever fucked him?"
Jannik frowned at that. "Fucked him?" He echoed, his voice confused, as if the idea had never even occurred to him. "Fucked Carlos? No."
"Right," Taylor replied. "But like, you would, if you could?"
Jannik's frown deepened. "Oh my god, no. Can you imagine? He would be terrible, no? All that grunting."
Taylor couldn't help it. He threw his head back, and laughed. And, when Jannik leaned in to chase the laughter away with a kiss, Taylor didn't think at all. Just grabbed his face, just kissed him back, just let the moment happen.
It was enough for now.