one is the lonliest number
I
"You're such a dick, Lysacek."
Johnny's voice is scathing, the tone of it enough to make Evan wince, as if he'd put his hand under faucet that's running too hot. A pillow connects with the side of his head and Evan just catches it before it hits the ground.
"I'm sorry," he says, looking at the pillow. "Frank just says I don't need distractions, not with the Olympics coming up, and I agree with him, okay? I don't- Don't be angry." He looks up at Johnny with puppy eyes and it just makes Johnny angrier. Evan opens his mouth to speak again, but Johnny cuts him off.
"Just leave." He doesn't sound angry anymore. He sounds sad, defeated. It hurts Evan worse than when he was just mad. He nods, standing, and goes to the door, pausing at it, about to speak. He decides against it, opening the door and walking out into the hallway and back to his own room.
II
Evan can't find Johnny.
It's not that he's really worried about Johnny's safety or anything, it's just that he's a little drunk and if Evan's drunk, then Johnny most certainly is, and drunk Johnny does not make good choices. So, Evan's maybe a little worried for his safety and about their relationship.
"Have you seen Johnny?" Evan asks Jeff, who shrugs and takes another sip of his drink.
"Oh wait!" Jeff nearly yells as Evan starts to walk away. "I think I saw him go somewhere with Stephane. But that was like, twenty minutes ago. Who knows where he is." Evan nods in thanks and walks away, scratching the back of his neck.
He pulls out his phone, texting Johnny a few times, calling him once, and when he doesn't get an answer, he starts to actually get worried. Evan finds a door to a hallway in the back of the ballroom sort of thing where this shindig is being hosted and he walks down it, finding a slightly ajar door at the end. There are noises coming from it, familiar noises, and the closer Evan gets, the less he can hear over the blood pounding in his ears.
He reaches the door and taps it open, watching as Stephane fucks Johnny, Evan's boyfriend, over some poor schmuck's desk. He's not mad, just disappointed, angry at himself for ever thinking he deserved anything like what he wants. He's made too many mistakes for that, and this is just karma, biting him in the ass.
Evan calls Johnny the next day, breaking up with him, no explanation, and Johnny has the gall to sound upset.
"You can't just do this without telling me why," he shrieks into the phone, and Evan scoffs.
"Why don't you ask Stephane," Evan bites back, hanging up the phone.
III
"I can't do this anymore," Evan says, cold, hard, like stone. Johnny narrows his eyes and raises an eyebrow.
"Can't do what, exactly?"
"This." Evan motions between the two of them. "I can't take how you love me in private, but once a camera gets near you, I'm the last thing you want to see. Choose, Johnny. You either love me or you hate me. You can't have both."
"Evan," Johnny says as if Evan were five years old, and that's something Evan always hates so his fists clench and he grits his teeth a little. "We have reputations to uphold. You're the great straight hope for figure skating, and I'm not. I'm supposed to hate you, we're rivals."
"When have you ever done anything you're supposed to," Evan retorts, taken aback. He doesn't really know how the conversation turned into this. It's like Johnny wants him to break up with him. That's not supposed to happen.
"I thought you loved me." It's quiet, almost inaudible.
"I thought I did too," Johnny admits in the same tone. "I guess we were wrong."
IV
Johnny sits on Evan's bed, eating a strawberry, the juice running down his chin and over his fingers, and Evan wants to lick it away. He can't though, and that's why he's here.
"So, Johnny, I asked you here-"
"Evan, you idiot, I know why you want me here," Johnny says, rolling his eyes. Throwing the last of the strawberry in the trash, he stands, walking over to Evan and straddling his lap in the big chair in the hotel room. He leans down, kissing Evan soft and sweet, too sweet to be stupid teenagers. Except they're not teenagers anymore, and Torino is so soon, and that's why Evan's here. He needs to focus.
He pushes Johnny away softly, hands on his hips.
"We can't do this anymore," he says, as soft and sweet as Johnny kissed him, looking down at his hands, taking them from Johnny's hips. Johnny stiffens, scoffing.
"Excuse me? I'm pretty sure you can't tell me what I can and can't do," Johnny says, getting off him, hands on his hips.
"The Olympics are really soon, Johnny, and so are Nationals, and I want to qualify. You want to qualify. We have to focus on our skating. Don't you want to win?"
"What the fuck are you talking about, Evan? What we do after practice has no effect on skating. We can keep it separate."
"That's not true and you know it. I don't want the judges to have any reason not to like me, Johnny. I want to win, and I know you do, too. Frank says if this got out, if we got out, it could really hurt our chances. It's bad enough competing against you. I don't want to have to fight the world, too."
"Frank says," Johnny spits, crossing his arms. "Frank says. Has Frank ever told you anything useful? Like not to give a fuck when people question you? Obviously not." He uncrosses his arms, stepping back, towards the door.
"You're right, Evan, we can't do this anymore. Thank you for letting me see that."
V
"Evan, what are you doing?"
Johnny sounds shocked, like he doesn't understand what all Evan's packed bags by the door means, like he can't believe this is happening.
Evan had been trying to leave before Johnny got back, but he kept having to repack everything, since it just wasn't fitting right. He's nervous. Too nervous to actually be having this conversation.
"Leaving," he says, and Johnny blinks.
"But-"
"Johnny, we knew this wasn't permanent," Evan tells him with a shrug, "There's no way it could work out. I have to focus. I don't have time for this. I don't have the time you deserve. I'm sorry."
Johnny can't say anything, he just stands there, looking hurt and sad and Evan can't stand to look at him. He moves his things out into the hall silently, giving Johnny one last long look before leaving.
Johnny sits on his bed for three days after Evan leaves. He watches chick flicks with Paris and Tara, eating as much ice cream as he can, and when he's gone through what he thinks is an appropriately long relationship mourning phase, he gets back on the ice and skates.
The next week, Evan starts dating Tanith.
VI
Evan stretches a long arm out, jostling the body next to him. Johnny turns over in the bed, rolling on top of Evan in the free space that his arm has left. Evan smiles sleepily, curling towards him, kissing his forehead.
"Hey baby," he mumbles, and Johnny makes a noise, letting Evan know it's still too early to talk. So, Evan just grins, kissing his cheek again and rolling out of the bed. He's always been more of an early bird than Johnny is, and he just goes downstairs to make them both egg white omelets with sausage and peppers. It's the weekend, they can break their diet a little. At least the omelets don't have cheese, okay?
By the time he's done making everything, Johnny's on his way downstairs, rubbing an eye sleepily and dressed only in his pajama bottoms and tank top. Evan loves him like this.
"I made breakfast," he says, wrapping an arm around Johnny's waist and pulling him close, kissing him.
"I thought you went to the rink," Johnny says, resting his head on Evan's shoulder. He's still really too asleep to comprehend anything.
"Not today," Evan mumbles, smiling down at him, brushing some hair out of his face.