Wrote this yesterday (today technically) at two AM while sleep delirious. Enjoy~
He's not sure how this happened or how he got in this situation.
Jannik just remembers feeling his limbs heavy and warm, his entire body made of lead, leaving him unable to walk straight very far.
He remembers texting Simone that he'll take a few more minutes than usual; he doesn't remember if he got a reply.
He remembers barely making it to the bench, tripping on his own feet, having difficulty steering his own body because of how heavy it felt, because of how unfocused his surroundings looked.
He remembers his breath catching once he managed to sit on the bench, he remembers lying down on his left side, facing the lockers, unsure if near his own or not.
He doesn't remember how loud his sobs and wails echoed in the empty room. He doesn't remember hearing the door clicking open.
He vaguely remembers the panicked calls of his name, some questions in English he couldn't quite grasp in the cacophony that was resounding in his head.
He remembers how each missed shot and unforced error replayed sporadically in the darkness behind his eyelids- not dark enough. Insults, yells, boos and disappointed words bounced so chaotically in his skull he couldn't calm down the angry shouting voice that sounded so much like his own.
‘Respira Jannik’ (Breathe Jannik)
He remembers a kind voice telling him to breathe, he remembers not being able to as the sobs stole all the air that came into his lungs.
He remembers drawing closer his cold and hurting legs and hiding his face where the light didn't reach him.
He remembers the sweet voice repeating, almost at nauseam, for him to “Respira Jannik, respira.”
Then he doesn't remember anything else.
The first thing he consciously acknowledges is that he smells musky sweat when he inhales. He finds the bench he's lying on is very hard and uncomfortable, a big difference between the firm but soft pillow(?) he's currently hugging and lying half of his chest on.
A very soft, deep, monotone hum makes him realise the world is silent again, a hand stroking his spine back and forward, never leaving his skin, is both incredibly pleasant and not so much as the cold, sweaty shirt rubs on his skin.
“Jannik?” A hand is trying to untangle his curls, and even when pain tugs at his scalp because of a stubborn knot, Jannik melts at the touch and buries his nose and face deeper into whatever warm thing he was hugging.
“Jannik?” the voice is worried, softly calling his name. The voice is familiar but… does it matter? Someone is hugging him and making him feel safe and loved like only his mother and father ever have. He feels shielded from the scrutinising world outside and the ruthless world within.
“Jannik? Have you calmed down?”
Calmed down from what? He feels as if he's always been this calm, content and boneless–
Boneless like after a hard match.
A match he lost.
A semi-final at the Australian open he lost.
Lost against Djokovic.
He suddenly felt the dip between two legs underneath his torso and how hips-sized the shape he had wrapped his arms around was.
A vain attempt was made to pick himself up and apologize, but a firm carress on his head along with a ‘sh-sh-shhh’ didn't allow him to go far.
“Dont worry, you and I have nowhere else to be”
But his team-
“We can stay like this if you're comfortable as much as you need”
The press would-
The hand petting his back went down to his hips and settled on warming up the back of his thigh with energetic caresses, squeezing ever so softly before travelling back to his back.
The world snapped back into focus, everywhere his body touched something else, even his clothes, felt tingly. The voice was clear and too familiar.
He was currently lying in Novak Djokovic’s lap
After the wave of panic that the though first brought, he, not without some difficulty, unethered his face from what he now realised was Djokovics hip, blinking repeatedly and with much effort, turned on his back to face the ceiling.
Indeed, Novak Djokovic’s face greeted him, haloed by unbearable bright light.
“Good morning sunshine” He smiled, bringing the hand previously in his hair to gently brush where tears had made tracks down his face. (He has cried?) The other hand settled on Jannik's stomach.
“Why..?” he couldn't understand why, how, and couldn't find a way to ask why, how.
“Does it matter? “
It did. Jannik squinted Novak smiled, crow-feet crinkling to life next to his eyes.
“Do you prefer lying like this or on your side?”
“Why?” Jannik did not let go, wanting an answer that would satisfy his curiosity and stop his mind from worrying.
The softest, kindest, warmest look took form on Novaks face. “Because you need it.” A thumb gently tried and succeeded at sweeping away the wrinkles from Jannik’s forehead. “Because you did so well”
He wanted to get up, find a corner and disappear. He had done terribly, he wasn’t focused enough, he had been so lazy-
“Because I'm proud of you.” The words settled a blanket of contentment on his body.
“Now, are you more comfortable like this or on your side?” Novak waited patiently, never stopping his delicate tracing of Jannik's face.
What was the point of fighting? He was so tired... And so comfortable… and so... Loved.
“Side.” Novak smiled, bent down to place a long, gentle brush of a kiss on his forehead. “Then turn, my boy.”
Jannik turned and snuggled his face back into the junction between Novak’s leg and hip. Escaping the light once again.
“There we go, sleep if you need to.” A hand started to card through his hair again. “I owe you some attention, and you’ve waited for far too long.”
Jannik was far too disoriented to question the situation or focus too hard on what Novak was saying. He felt safe, comforted, warm, the good kind of warm, and so so content.
He sighed and reached his arms around Novak’s lower back and shifted to find a comfortable position. A hand resumed stroking his back.
He gripped the fabric under his hands.
“Thank you.” Dad.
“Ive got you.” Son.
Jannik fell asleep with the inexplicable sense he had been recognised, acknowledged, rewarded and finally, finally, accepted.
Novak held Jannik for a while and never hated himself more for not allowing himself this sooner.
An adopted child is just as important as a biological one. Blood is not thicker than seeing your own ghost in someone else.
