2nd Place is first loser - Macklin Celebrini x Reader
Mack sat on the edge of your hotel bed, the silver medal heavy in his hand. He's run his thumb over the rings so much that they're already dulling.
"Mack, c'mon..." You rest your chin on his shoulder, kneeling behind him, "Silver's not bad." Your voice softens automatically, barely above a whisper as if talking too loud could push him to tears.
Mack doesn't look at you. He purses his lips, swallowing thickly, "But it's not the best." His voice is rough and slightly raspy with the effort to not collapse right then and there. You sigh, reaching around to grab the medal.
Shoving it into your suitcase on the side of the bed, you grab him by the shoulders, pulling him to lay back. He obliges, body thumping back onto the duvet, hair splaying out like rays of holy sunshine.
You sit next to his shoulder, brushing a finger over the scrape on his cheek. His own hand comes up, pressing yours into his skin to hold his face. He stills, taking deep breaths. A minute passes before a tear slips out, trailing down his temple and disappearing into his hairline. More chase it.
"...I just feel so shitty..." He whispers, "Like I couldn't be enough, no matter what I did. And I know the moment I look on my phone, all it's gonna be is people telling me I shouldn't even be on the team." His breath stutters in a sick hiccup-y way, lips pursing tight to keep the whimpers in.
He sits up rapidly, wrapping his arms around your waist, burying his head into the crook of your neck. You can smell the mint of his shampoo, faint from the subway ride. His calloused hands dig into your shoulder blades, tugging at your shirt, breath hitching and jumping with sobs.
The side of your face presses against his, arms holding him close and rubbing his back. "I know, I'm sorry... I'm so sorry Mackie..." You whisper, words inter-spliced with kisses to the shell of his ear.
It lasts like that for almost an hour, him sobbing, staining your shirt with tears, while you whisper soft words and hold him tight.
Eventually, somewhere around midnight, his sobs slow down. They morph into deep, even breaths, his body too exhausted to carry on. You lie back on the bed, pulling his heavy body with you before tucking him in and falling asleep.
