Be One Traveler (3/4) Johnny Weir/Evan Lysacek
Title: Be One Traveler
Fandom: Skating RPS (Johnny Weir/Evan Lysacek)
previously
Evan woke up and reached for Johnny.
He was alone in his bed.
His own bed, the one in his own apartment in L.A., the one he'd been expecting to wake up in twice now. There was a tiny twinge of sadness, but mostly Evan sat up and pumped his fist with a triumphant, "Yes!" These were his sheets and those were his medals on the wall, and all his shit was right where he'd left it. Evan felt like he could run a marathon and still have the energy for a pre-Olympic practice session with Frank.
He bounded out of bed and then skidded to a stop, because his knees kind of ached in a weird way, and it occurred to Evan suddenly that someone else might have been living inside his body all day yesterday, and he could have done anything.
On the other hand, it was possible Evan had just taken drugs by accident and his entire previous day had been a very vivid hallucination. That sounded more right. Evan's head wasn't throbbing like he'd gotten drunk, but maybe LSD didn't leave you feeling woozy the next morning.
Evan touched all the furniture in his bedroom as he walked past it, like a ritual to make sure he was really back and he wasn't going away again. He took a quick shower and enjoyed how tan he was again, and then grabbed his keys, rejoicing in driving his own car and knowing where he was going.
He was especially glad to see Frank, even when Frank growled, "If you're going to skate like you did yesterday, why did you bother showing up? Give me ten laps and we're starting with triples."
Evan's stomach flip flopped a little bit at the crack about yesterday. So much for convincing himself it hadn't really happened. It felt like it hadn't happened, but... well, some other him, the one who was dating Johnny, had tried to skate singles and hadn't lived up to Evan's normal technical skills because he was used to skating with Tanith. Of course, any Evan anywhere should have been driven and focused. Maybe that Evan was just distracted because he missed Johnny.
This Evan, though, was feeling strong and athletic and ready to fight. He knew his routines and he knew this ice and he loved how everything made sense. He liked that he wasn't trying to watch Tanith or Johnny while he skated, and he didn't have to be afraid the Cold War would break out across the rink. You depend on yourself, man, Evan thought, getting ready for a jump. You work for yourself, you skate for yourself, you keep yourself going. Fight, win!
Evan hit all his jumps and skated over to Frank for a pep talk. Frank's pep talks tended to be more along the lines of do or die, with an emphasis on the threat of death, rather than actual motivation, but Evan was used to that.
Today was a little different. "Now do you see why Johnny Weir isn't practicing with us?" Frank sneered.
Evan was taken aback. "Uh, because he's in New Jersey?"
"You seemed confused about it yesterday," said Frank. Evan grimaced. If the other Evan had been asking about Johnny, then everyone was going to think he'd lost his mind. "And Tanith! What kind of weirdo wants to skate with his ex?" Frank glared suspiciously at Evan.
"Yesterday was weird," said Evan lamely. "Sorry." At some point he was going to wonder what had happened, and why, but mostly he was trying not to think about it.
"We have the Olympics in a couple of weeks! We have no time for weird," said Frank, and sent Evan back out to practice.
He was distracted now, though. Was other-Evan back home with his Johnny? Would he be mad he'd missed the proposal? Had he been lonely all day on his own? Evan had never considered himself lonely except in the "being single" sense.
He wiped out on a quad axel and shooting pain flared through his hip. "Get up!" bawled Frank.
When the other Evan fell, Johnny probably skated by to make sure was okay, thought Evan resentfully. Well, or to make fun of him, but maybe that would have been okay. And Evan was absolutely sure Johnny's hands were good for massages on injured thighs. He got a little distracted by what else Johnny's hands were good for and tripped himself trying to do footwork.
"Oww," said Evan, a little plaintively. Frank was unmoved.
Evan did a morning and an afternoon session to make up for the day before, and then he headed home to escape from Frank muttering "Johnny freaking Weir" at him. The drive home was pleasingly devoid of maniacs trying to read and text and drive all at once, at least inside the car with Evan. And no one wanted him to talk about Brad and Jen or hummed terrible pop music at him.
It was great.
"This is great," Evan said to himself, blending a protein shake. He sprawled all over the couch and absolutely didn't think about wrestling with Johnny on his couch in Jersey. Or Johnny moaning. Or Johnny's ass.
It couldn't have been a dream; no dream had ever left Evan feeling so restless and distracted before. It had felt really, really real, and some parts of Evan's body were still caught up in it. He pushed the heel of his hand against his crotch and thought about Johnny's mouth, not on purpose or anything. Evan groaned a little. What had that day even meant? Evan didn't like dudes, and he couldn't stand Johnny fucking Weir. He clenched his teeth and rubbed his hand harder against his track pants and told himself he was being weird. He tried superimposing Nastia over Johnny in his memory, but he couldn't imagine Nastia laughing like that, pushing him off and teasing him in bed, calling him out on how much he loved having his tattoo licked.
Johnny's face kept flickering up, laughing, rolling his eyes, smiling wickedly at Evan and batting his girly fucking lashes.
Evan wasn't usually this horny, sitting around on the couch and getting off to a memory. A memory of something that might not have even been real, and which he was going to forget just as soon as he was done remembering how great the sex was.
His hand crept under the waistband of his pants, and Evan tried to pretend he wasn't thinking about Johnny sucking on his fingers. His dick didn't much care what he claimed; after a couple of rough strokes he was hunched over the couch, grunting and trying to remember what Johnny had done to get him off so fast.
Evan may or may not have been remembering Johnny moan, "Oh, daddy," when he came.
Almost immediately he was overwhelmed by embarrassment. How could he possibly have been this turned on by Johnny? Wrong wrong wrong. He picked up the phone and dialed Nastia's number, then decided he didn't want to freak her out and dialed Tanith instead.
"I changed your name in my phone to 'drunk asshole,'" said Tanith by way of a greeting.
"Hey," said Evan. He hesitated for a second, and decided it was easier not to try to really explain. "Do you ever have weird dreams?"
"I dreamed I was taking a French test on a waterslide," said Tanith. "I figure it's Olympic nerves."
"Oh," said Evan, nodding. "That makes sense."
"What makes sense?"
"I dreamed about -- nothing, never mind."
"Is this about yesterday?" Tanith asked. "Because I'm still not giving you Johnny's number."
Evan made a weird face involuntarily. "Shit. I called you yesterday?"
Tanith sighed a little. "Fine, pretend you don't remember. You wanted to know all about Johnny. His number, his address, if he's single. You asked me if I thought he was truly happy, Evan. It was a mess."
She was smirky, and yeah, it was embarrassing as hell, but Evan got how confused and worried the other him must have been. Johnny in this universe was single and kind of crazy. Evan thought about how the other Johnny had confessed to being lonely and his stomach twisted.
His Johnny was different, though, Evan decided. He was constantly, irritatingly flamboyant and energetic. He was always playing with the girl skaters or being silly at exhibitions. He was in fashion shows, for god's sake. He had a collection of fur hats, Evan was pretty sure. He wasn't sad, he was Johnny freaking Weir.
"Hello?" Tanith said.
"I'm, um.. I'm trying to keep an eye on my competition. Did I ask about Jeremy, too?" Evan floundered.
Tanith laughed. "You so didn't. It sounded like you were more interested in getting personal with Johnny."
She couldn't see him blushing through the phone. Evan reminded himself of that. "You're crazy," he scoffed.
"First time you call me in months and it's to ask if Johnny Weir is single?"
"I just had a really weird dream, is all," Evan protested.
There was a long silence. "It was a sex dream, wasn't it," said Tanith. "I knew it. I always knew your 'rivalry' was bullshit. Are you finally having your big gay freakout? Poor Nastia."
"No!" Evan said, and then, "Wait, what? My big what?"
"You're the poster boy for repression," Tanith said. "And Johnny is everything you're not. Loud, outspoken, flamboyant. I knew you were a little obsessed with him, but this is hilarious. I mean, the problem is that he hates you, but you probably aren't worried about that. I should be recording this conversation."
"No!" squeaked Evan again.
"I bet you could talk him around. Well, maybe. Eventually. Flashing your medals at him won't work. Oh my god, I'd love you see you try that. Please try that, Evan," Tanith said gleefully.
It had eventually worked for the other Evan. He rolled his eyes at her obvious enjoyment of his pain. "You're mean," he said. "And I don't want to date Johnny. I just want to know why he was in my dream."
"Sex dream!"
"Shut up. I mean, why him? Why not you? You would have made sense. We could have gotten married."
"Um, no, we really couldn't have," said Tanith, a little sadly. "Wait, in this dream, you and Johnny were mar--"
Evan interrupted her loudly, "I just didn't think I cared about that stuff. But maybe my brain is trying to send me a message."
"Good luck with that," muttered Tanith. "Anyway, I don't care what your brain wants, Johnny's my friend and I'm not going to let you mess with him."
Evan nodded, forgetting she couldn't see him. "Maybe he's just a thing from the dream, like your waterslide. Maybe I just want a real... I don't know, I'm so focused on the Olympics. Maybe my brain wishes I had a life, too."
"You couldn't figure that out when we were dating?" Tanith sighed.
"It never occurred to me before," confessed Evan. "I guess I must have been a pretty lousy boyfriend." He paused to see if she'd contradict him, but she didn't. Obviously Evan had a lot to add to his 'things to work on' list. "Do you think I could be better? Do you think I could have a house and a wedding and like... the whole thing?" He sounded wistful to himself.
"Maybe," Tanith said. "I never thought you wanted that. What if it interferes with practices and the Olympics?"
Evan thought about the other Johnny, telling him how much better it was having someone who knew the pain of competition to come home to. "Or it could help," Evan said.
"That must have been one hell of a dream," Tanith muttered. "Listen, maybe you shouldn't make any life-changing decisions until after Vancouver. Yesterday you were drinking, today you're dreaming about being gay with Johnny... You might want to talk to a professional."
"You're exaggerating," protested Evan.
"You told me you'll always love me as a friend but Johnny will always have your heart. You have become a really maudlin drunk, by the way."
Evan winced. The other him was a dork. "I guess I was really trashed," he said. "I don't even remember that."
"I intend to use it as blackmail forever."
"Yeah, fair enough," Evan said. "Sorry for bothering you."
"Whatever. Just please don't go telling Johnny you dreamed you two had sex, okay? He's close enough to a breakdown over Vancouver without your interference."
"He-- Is he?" Evan asked. That didn't sound true. Johnny was always saying snotty shit about Evan, badmouthing him as robotic to the press. He seemed fine. The Johnny Evan had just spent the day with seemed fine, too.
"No," Tanith said quickly.
"Uh, okay." Evan was confused. "I'll see you in Vancouver, I guess." Tanith hung up.
Evan really hoped he hadn't left this kind of mess behind for the other Evan to deal with. Stéphane was probably giving him a similar speech about behaving like a lunatic right now. But other-Evan was back to his happy life, and Evan was just... back.
He stared at the phone in his hand for a few minutes. He couldn't be this hung up on Johnny after one day, obviously, so maybe he was hung up on the idea of having someone. Anyone at all. And his brain had been so panicked it had snapped and picked the person he liked least in the whole world.
Evan texted Nastia. Come over again soon!! Miss you!!!! If she came over Evan could try being relationshippy with her. It might be great. He'd been thinking about it as just a way to fool around, but maybe Evan had had this weird experience to tell him it was time to grow up, to move on.
Aren't you busy? Nastia texted back. You're always busy and it's almost the Olympics.
Come over anyway, Evan typed.
LOL, Nastia replied. I'm out of town, but I'll see you next week. XOXO
XXE, Evan typed back. Then he put his phone down and tried to figure out what he was going to do all week. Practice, obviously. Even more than usual. Frank would like that, and it would keep Evan busy.
--
Practice had always been Evan's whole world, and it had always been pretty easy to turn his mind off and just work, but that was before his brain had decided to rebel. Evan would be working on triple lutz combination and bam! Out of nowhere his brain would remind him about Johnny cooking dinner. Or in the middle of a spin he'd think about how the other him had compromised on tanner and gel, and in return Johnny had compromised on luggage, and they'd signed a freaking lease together. That was insanity. It threw off Evan's balance.
Frank was unhappy pretty much all the time. "You're working but you aren't here," he'd bitch. It was true, so Evan just shrugged and tried to keep his head down.
His apartment seemed really empty. Evan deliberately left his sneakers all over the living room because there was no one around to bitch at him, and that was how he liked it. It wasn't as much fun as it should have been. Evan made protein shakes for dinner and tried not to think about anything except Vancouver.
Nastia came over a week later, excited about shopping in L.A. and seeing him, but not, Evan realized, especially interested in listening to him talk about things like mysterious plans the universe had for him. "Do you ever feel lonely?" Evan asked. "Being all alone while you're competing?"
"I can help with feeling lonely," Nastia said, and wrapped her hands in his collar, pulling him down for a kiss.
"Right, no, totally," Evan said uncomfortably. "But I mean... do you ever think about getting married? Or buying a house?"
Nastia froze. "You're kidding, right?"
"I don't mean right now," said Evan. He tried to smile and felt it slapped awkwardly across his face. "Someday. Like... a house and a husband. Maybe a dog?"
Nastia took a step back and patted his collar back down. "Whoa," she said. "I thought this was a booty call. You didn't say I was coming over for your mid-life crisis."
Evan was stung. "This isn't mid-life!" he protested. "I'm only twenty-four."
"It's athlete mid-life," said Nastia. "You have to decide if you're going to quit after this Olympics and stuff. I get it. I just... don't want to be part of it."
"I am not having a crisis!" Evan said. "Seriously, I'm just trying to figure out my life."
"Right," said Nastia, "that's what a mid-life crisis is."
Evan floundered, trying to think of a reply to that. "Yeah... Well... I just thought I'd ask! Okay? Jeez."
Nastia squinted at him. "We can still have sex and all, as long as you promise it doesn't mean you think we're getting married. I'm game."
"Oh," said Evan. That wasn't very romantic. "Uh, okay." Nastia was even shorter than Johnny, and she had to do a lot of work to get up high enough to kiss him. Evan put his hands under her ass and hitched her up.
"Don't do your caveman thing," she said, wrinkling her nose. "I want to go out for dinner after this, and if you throw me around you'll mess up my hair."
"But it's fun," Evan protested.
"For you, maybe," Nastia said. Evan just barely managed not to pout.
They had sex -- carefully -- in the bedroom, and it wasn't bad or anything, though Evan wondered if maybe Nastia was planning her shopping trip while they did it. Sex with chicks was awesome, and Evan still liked boobs a lot. It just wasn't as much fun as Evan was suddenly aware sex could be. Maybe his day in the other world had been trying to tell him he was gay. Or at least bisexual.
They went out to dinner and it was perfectly nice. "We could make this serious," Evan said, biting his lip. "It wouldn't be so bad. You like me. I like you."
Nastia laughed. "No, but seriously, are you feeling okay?" she asked.
Evan slumped a little in his chair. "I'm fine," he muttered.
"You should think about dating someone who's at the same point in their life that you are," Nastia said thoughtfully. She'd ordered cheesecake just to torture him, Evan was pretty sure. It was his favorite and he wasn't allowed to have it before the Olympics. "Instead of trying to turn a hook up into a wedding, you could just buy a red Jag. Or find someone else who's done competing and wants to settle down."
Evan stared at her. "I'm not done! The Olympics are in a week!"
"Right," Nastia said. "And after that?"
"After that is Dancing with the Stars and Stars on Ice," said Evan.
Nastia sighed. "I know, but sweetie, at some point? You're going to realize that you have to do something else. And I think it's going to be really rough on you, because you're kind of crazy. I mean, the suicide workouts? The insane schedule?"
Evan muttered, "I don't suppose you find my work ethic kind of endearing?"
"I'm not marrying someone I don't see all day," Nastia said flatly. "And I'm not marrying anyone right now. I don't know if you need to cover up a sex tape scandal, or make your mom happy, or what. But I'm not your girl." Evan crossed his arms and stared at his shoes. "We can still hook up whenever," Nastia said kindly. "But if you want someone to cook you dinner and cuddle with you at night, look somewhere else."
"What if the only person I know who might do that hates me?" Evan asked bleakly.
Nastia smiled sadly. "That sucks," she said. "Maybe you can persuade her you're a good guy. You are a good guy, Evan."
Last time Evan had seen his version of Johnny had been at Nationals. He'd made fun of Johnny for not doing a quad -- even Jeremy had a quad -- and Johnny had yelled at him after the press conference and stormed off.
Evan's brain -- or the universe, or whatever was going on -- couldn't possibly want him to try to hit on Johnny. That was absurd. The universe wasn't that cruel and random. It had to be something else. The marriage thing, or the gay thing.
Evan kissed Nastia good night and went to pack for Vancouver. The other Johnny only had three suitcases. He wondered how many his had.
--
Vancouver was full of energy. Evan was skating better than he had all year, but he had left-over energy somehow, making him unable to sleep or relax. Interviews made him restless. Practice left him more keyed up than ever. Evan decided to go to Tanith's room and see how she was doing.
When she answered, he decided it was better to deal with the whole thing like ripping off a band-aid. "I want to get married," he blurted. "Or my brain does. Or maybe my brain thinks I'm gay. Or I might be having like, psychotic daydreams or something."
"Hi," said Tanith calmly. "Wow."
"I know," Evan said miserably. "The good news is I'm still skating well, and that's most important. Can I come in?"
"Well..." Tanith hesitated, looking over her shoulder.
"C'mon," whined Evan, voice going high and California-heavy. "You said we would hang out in Vancouver."
She squinted at him. "Are you seriously claiming you're here to hang out with me?"
"Claiming?" Evan asked. "I... yes? What are you you talking about?"
Johnny Weir appeared behind Tanith's shoulder. "I'm pretending I didn't hear the gay part," he said. "You can thank me later."
Evan felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. "What's he doing here?" he asked numbly. His brain was freaking out, trying to get his mouth to yell, We had sex!!!! He was frozen awkwardly with one hand on the doorjamb, trying not to fall over or shriek.
"Oh, please," said Tanith. "Everyone in the Village knows I'm rooming with Johnny."
"But he's a boy!" Evan protested.
"Nice of you to notice," snarked Johnny. "Oh, let him in, Tanith. Poor baby might cry, and you don't want him to start rusting up before the short program. I'll make myself scarce."
"You don't have to," Evan said. He felt like he was on autopilot, with no idea what he might say next. He'd expected some warning before he had to deal with Johnny again. He needed a script.
Johnny raised an eyebrow at Tanith, who shook her head. "I don't know," she said. "It's either a great idea or a terrible idea. For one of you, at least."
"Are you trying to psych me out?" Johnny asked suspiciously. "Because I have to tell you, that's a weak little bitchy move." He didn't sound anything like the other Johnny, Evan realized a little sadly. He was cold and haughty. Evan wished he could shrink himself a little.
"No," said Evan.
"Because you don't think you need to?" Johnny asked, hands on his hips and narrowing his eyes. He was wearing warm-up clothes with a fur shrug over them. It was weird.
"Be nice," said Tanith. "You can come in, I guess." She moved so Evan could enter. The apartment was spotless, almost scarily so. Evan knew a few things about stress cleaning. He wondered if it was Tanith or Johnny or both who was freaking out. There was a Lady Gaga poster up, too. That had to be Johnny's.
"I don't want to interfere in your grand reunion," said Johnny, pronouncing grand reunion like it was French. He was sort of terrifying pretentious. "I'll go."
"Don't be bitchy," said Tanith sharply.
"You should stay," Evan said. "We could... talk... about stuff."
Johnny looked at Tanith again. She shrugged. "I always thought you two could be friends, if you weren't so busy hating each other."
"Two days before the short program is no time to make new friends," Johnny snapped. He was glaring at Evan like Evan had come there to steal something from him.
Tanith sighed. "We can be friends, then," and pointed him toward the couch.
"Cool, thanks," Evan said, slumping as he sat. "I just thought maybe we could hang out. Bond, maybe."
"Has he snapped?" Johnny demanded, getting shrill as he turned to Tanith.
Tanith rolled her eyes. "Be nice, he's fragile."
"He's fragile?" Johnny stomped his foot.
Tanith leaned over and whispered in his ear. Evan tried not to imagine what she might be saying about him.
"Well, I don't see why that should be my problem," said Johnny, crossing his arms, but he kicked the door shut. "Do you want a snack? I need to eat." He bustled angrily around the suite's little kitchenette.
Tanith gestured at Evan, like Leave it alone, don't push him right now. She sat next to him on the couch. "Have any dreams lately?" Tanith asked, with a wicked little grin.
Evan turned red and looked quickly at Johnny, who had his back turned, thank god. "No," he mumbled. Mostly he'd been dreaming about skating, and Frank yelling, and sometimes Frank was his English teacher and he was naked in class and Mirai was there giggling with Yu-na, but usually the skating thing.
Just once it had been Johnny in a naughty nurse outfit, but Evan was going to die before he confessed to that.
"Good," said Tanith. "I was a little worried about you."
"I'm okay," said Evan. "Just a little lost, I guess."
"You'd think, with your view, you wouldn't get lost," snotted Johnny. He had sliced up fruit and added granola and whole wheat crackers on a plate, which he slammed down on the coffee table. "It's not poisoned," he snapped, when Evan didn't move.
"Relax, princess, we appreciate you," Tanith said, rolling her eyes.
Johnny snorted and ate a grape. "This is the weirdest party I've ever been to."
Evan thought about the engagement party and Stéphane's amazing code words. "There are weirder," he said.
"Are you okay?" Johnny asked. "I don't get it. You're a medal favorite, and that's, like, literally all you want on Earth, besides maybe humiliating me."
"There's more to me than that," Evan protested. He tried to think of things. "I like... I... I'm fun!"
"You're fun like a math test," said Johnny. "I'm fun."
"Maybe Johnny could teach you to be fun," said Tanith brightly.
Johnny glared daggers at her, and then turned to glare at Evan, like it was his idea. "Maybe," Evan agreed, trying to stare Johny down. Why wasn't this Johnny ever nice?
"I don't have that kind of time," Johnny said meanly. "That would take years."
What if we dated for four years? Evan wondered. Would you think I was fun then? Would you be less of a flaky bitch? "I am not actually a robot," said Evan aloud, grumpily.
"Could have fooled me."
It was weird, but arguing with Johnny like this, Evan felt almost the same tingle in his stomach he'd felt right before they kissed. It was the tension, crackling between them. Evan's body suddenly wasn't sure how to interpret it.
You're going to get married or kill each other, Evan remembered, and this time he understood it. Part of him wanted to punch the smirk right off Johnny's face. Part of him wanted to grab Johnny with both hands and kiss him. Actually, Evan realized, he wanted to punch Johnny and then kiss him. It was a more complicated emotion than he was used to.
"Why are you staring at me?" Johnny asked.
"My program got stuck in a loop," Evan said, trying to match Johnny's nasty tone.
"Okay, enough, break it up," Tanith ordered, looking from one to the other. "Play nice, please."
"I'm always nice," said Johnny, deadly sweet.
"You can be," Evan said, thinking about the other Johnny. "But you aren't to me."
Johnny's mouth dropped open a little bit. It wasn't an especially good look on him. "Why would I be nice to you? You're my competition! You're not nice to me!"
"But what if we..." Evan said, trailing off. He fidgeted a little bit. "What if we weren't each other's big rivals?"
"Like... if you broke your leg?" Johnny asked, sitting reluctantly on the couch beside him.
"No," huffed Evan. "What if one of us skated pairs?"
Tanith snorted.
"I'm just saying, what if," Evan said defensively. "If you weren't always skating directly against me, would we have been friends? We kind of liked each other when we were really young."
"I doubt it," Johnny said. Evan frowned. Johnny rubbed his hands against his thighs uncomfortably. "Why, do you think we'd be braiding each others' hair and having sleepovers?"
Evan worked really, really hard not to think about sleeping with Johnny. He kept his voice as blank as he possibly could. "Maybe. I mean. We both have the same experiences. We both work hard, we both know what it's like to stand out there, skating with all that pressure. We both know what it's like to lose miserably. We both know what it's like to win. We're both lonely. Honestly, who could understand you better than me?" He was proud of himself for remembering so much of what the other Johnny had said. He was a little surprised at how true it felt.
There was a long, uncomfortable silence. Tanith was staring at Evan, eyes huge. Johnny was staring, too, but he was somewhere between bewildered and hostile.
"Wow," Tanith managed finally. "Evan, that was almost... eloquent."
"I was just thinking about it, is all," Evan muttered. He was pretty sure eloquent was a good thing.
Johnny looked shaken, how strange was that? "We... we can not be friends while the Olympics are going on," he said. "After that, I don't know. I guess we do... I guess we have some things in common." He added grudgingly, "You'll never be fabulous like I am, but I'll never be orange like you are, either. I guess it's possible."
"I bet--" Evan started happily.
Tanith elbowed him in the side. "Quit while you're ahead," she hissed.
Evan nodded and passed Johnny the fruit plate.
Tanith gnawed on a cracker. "So, how's the TV show going?"
"Oh, it's okay," Johnny said carelessly. "They can't film in the Village, but we're getting good footage otherwise. They were so glad I made the Olympics, we get to extend the run an episode."
Evan's stomach sank. What if this wasn't his right universe, either, and he hadn't even noticed? Johnny had a TV show? What?
"Sundance must love you," Tanith said. "You are so willing to show your ass on TV."
Johnny giggled. "Might as well, I won't have it forever."
Tanith rolled her eyes. "I saw one episode, and honey, isn't your mom like, 'Johnny, put your clothes back on'?"
"My mother understands me," sniffed Johnny. "But there was once when I was posing with Tara and I was pretty naked, and Patti kept trying to cover me up. It was hilarious."
"I'll look forward to seeing that," Tanith said.
"It's a nice ass," said Evan. His brain was running his mouth without his input again.
Johnny gave him an arch look that he recognized from the other Johnny. This was teasing. "Noticed, did you?" Johnny drawled.
Evan flushed a little. "It's not like you try to hide it."
"Why should I?" Johnny demanded, obviously expecting a fight.
Evan was back to wanting to punch-kiss him. "If you go shaking it all over, somebody just might be tempted to do something about it," he growled.
Johnny kind of froze.
"Uh," said Tanith.
"Are you offering?" Johnny demanded, going for sassy and missing by a mile.
Evan had competed against Johnny since they were both kids; he knew when he had an advantage and he knew how to push it. "Maybe," said Evan evenly.
Some of the memories of throwing Johnny onto the bed and making him pay for all those smart remarks was bleeding through his expression, because Johnny shivered. He was staring, mouth a little bit open, and Evan wanted to bite that pouty stupid lower lip. He clenched his finger in the cushions of the couch.
"You wish," said Johnny finally, half-heartedly.
"You can pretend you haven't thought about it all you want," Evan said, "but I noticed your ass, and you noticed my shoulders and my legs and my back." He was pretty confident that if the other Johnny had, this one would have, too. He tried to add I know the noises you make when I shove you against a wall with just his stare.
Johnny was blushing. Holy shit, Johnny was blushing. "I have not!"
"Oh, you have," Tanith said. "Let me tell you, big hands, I know you're the one." She smiled cheerily at Evan, who grinned back.
"No, shut up, I did not," Johnny said, flustered. "Get away from me, you go sit over there." He pointed imperiously at the other end of the couch.
Evan had déjà vu so badly he felt dizzy. He scooched toward Tanith.
"I'm going to go practice," Johnny said, standing up. "You do whatever you want." He was still a little pink as he grabbed his bag and flounced out, slamming the door.
"Well," said Tanith, raising her eyebrows at Evan. She sounded admiring.
"What?" Evan asked.
"That must have been one hell of a dream," said Tanith.
"You have no idea."
--
Evan saw Johnny on the ice, warming up, but they didn't talk. Johnny was really, really focused, and so was Evan. He didn't have time to try to work out what the hell was wrong with Johnny Weir just then. Evan had Frank shouting at him and Plushenko staring him down. Joubert and Lambiel were chatting in French, but he tuned that out, too. Evan was focused on the podium.
Johnny missed a triple and skidded into the wall with a thump that made Evan wince. He hesitated for a second, but he was right there, so as he skated by Evan offered Johnny a hand up.
The glare he got probably singed his eyebrows off. Johnny pushed himself to his feet and almost knocked Evan over as he skated past. "Well, fine," muttered Evan, and went back to his own practice. Apparently there was no such thing as getting on Johnny's good side, ever. Or maybe this Johnny didn't have a good side. Maybe all the sexual tension in the world didn't matter, because Johnny was really a bitch. Evan went back to practicing quads and pretended he couldn't see Johnny at all.
"That was so interesting," said Stéphane later, when they were both in the locker room, changing.
"What was?" asked Evan. "Oh. That? That was just. That was nothing."
"I am intrigued by your nothing!" said Stéphane cheerfully. "I think it is quite an interesting nothing, and I have long wondered about this nothing, eh? Ha! Yes. Nothing indeed."
Stéphane was making Evan dizzy. "Right," said Evan. "I guess."
"Can I offer you the word of advice with this nothing?" asked Stéphane. Evan shrugged. Stéphane leaned in closer, waggling his eyebrows hilariously. "I think you will find with our fine feathered friend that honey gets you nowhere if the flies, they expect vinegar."
"I have no idea what that means," Evan said, pulling on his socks.
"It is simple," said Stéphane. "Johnny will never trust you if you are nice to him. That is very strange! He expects teasing and competition. You must give him what he expects and then show him it is not what he expects!"
Evan was slowly, vaguely starting to work out what Stéphane meant. "That makes sense, in a backwards way," Evan admitted. "But who says I even want to bother? I thought maybe we... but I might be mistaken. I might be reading something in to nothing." His brain wasn't even pretending anymore that he might want someone else. He wanted Johnny.
"Johnny and I, we are are good friends," said Stéphane. "I assure you, it is not so dire as all that. He is just... he is a cactus. You must be a cautious deer. The eagle, he has not landed yet!"
Either Evan had déjà vu again, or all Stéphanes in all universes were a little bit crazy. He stared at Stéphane, who grinned back at him.
"He hates me," said Evan, a little plaintively.
"Yes," agreed Stéphane. "And yet also no. But you have hated him, isn't it true?"
Evan shrugged. "He's so annoying."
"The pot and the kettle," said Stéphane. He clapped Evan on the back. "Good luck, my friend!"
Evan wished he weren't so utterly transparent to everyone around him. "Thanks," he said. "I guess."
"You will need quite a lot of it," added Stéphane.
--
Evan won the gold medal.
It was like his entire life had been leading up to this one moment, and he had it, and the world was a better place, a lighter place, and anything was possible and everything was wonderful, and he couldn't stop smiling like a lunatic. He could barely even figure out what people were saying to him when they congratulated him; his ears were so full of buzzing that all he could do was nod and smile and thank them and hope he made sense. He couldn't even hear his own thoughts, he was so excited, he tingled everywhere and he couldn't stand still. He wanted to jump or scream or rip all his clothes off. He couldn't breathe because his heart was going to pound straight ouf of his chest from joy. Plushenko stormed off in a huff, but Jeremy hugged him, and Stéphane, and Brian. Even Johnny, so grudgingly that he didn't even pretend to smile. Evan was too high to care. It was the most perfect night of his life.
It wasn't until later, when Evan had gone to the rink to watch the girls skate and practice, that Mirai grinned and him and said, "What are you going to do with your life now, gold-medal winner Evan Lysacek?"
"I--" Evan said, and then stopped, because he couldn't breathe.
Mirai waited a second and then giggled. "Dancing with the Stars," she prompted.
"Stars on Ice," Evan said, choking on every word.
"And a life of relaxation?" Mirai winked. "You're soooo lucky."
Evan didn't want to freak out in front of her, so he said, "Go skate," and she pretended to pout, but she went out to warm up before Frank got really mad. And then Evan was alone enough to absolutely melt down.
His entire life so far had been about the medal, and now he had it, and so he was going to... what? Do commercials? Skate in exhibitions? Nothing he could think of was a career, none of it was going to keep him busy 18 hours a day for the next four years. You can win in Sochi, bro,, he reassured himself, but he knew that was a temporary fix. After Sochi, then what?
Evan's hands were shaking. He clenched the edge of his chair until his knuckles went white and his wrists ached.
It didn't matter if he hurt himself now, he'd already won. It didn't matter what he ate now, he'd already won. It didn't matter what he said to anyone now, he'd already won.
It also, he realized a little distantly, didn't matter who he fucked, or what he said about Johnny Weir, or if they still had any kind of rivalry at all.
Evan felt equal parts liberated and terrified. It was a heady, dizzying, nauseating feeling. He was either going to barf all over the rink or he was going to fly home. He fumbled his phone out and texted Tanith, is johnny still here?
She didn't text back right away, and Evan was terrified that Johnny had already left. He wasn't skating in the exhibition, so he'd left. Evan wasn't sure he could track down this Johnny based on where the other Johnny's apartment in New Jersey had been, and he hadn't even gotten Johnny's phone number.
Evan's phone beeped. leaving tonight, Tanith had texted back. maybe not a good time im not there
He bolted out of the rink and across the Village, using all that adrenaline that had hit him like a freight train. Evan maybe banged a little too enthusiastically on Tanith's door, but he was in a rush, and he felt like hitting things.
"What?" Johnny demanded, yanking the door open. He was wearing jean capris and a t-shirt, and he didn't look much like flashy Johnny Weir at all. There were bags under his eyes and his hair was a mess and he might not have even been wearing makeup. Evan's brain superimposed a big flashing WRONG!!!! WRONG!!!! WRONG!!!! sign over Johnny's face.
"Hi," said Evan.
Johnny shoved the door shut again, but Evan already had his foot there. It hurt a little. Johnny muttered something angrily under his breath that might have been Russian and turned on his toe, stalking off back into the apartment. Evan followed. "Are you okay?" Evan asked.
"I'm fine," Johnny said. He was using that super high-pitched careless stereotypically gay voice that sounded like nails on a chalkboard to Evan. "I'm super fine, thanks for asking."
Evan wasn't sure what to say. "You skated really well--" he started, but Johnny cut him off, rounding on him with a vicious expression.
"Don't," he snapped. "Save it, okay. I know I skated well. I skated fucking perfect and I'm being punished, and it's my own fault. But I swear to god if you feel sorry for me I'll... I'll..." Johnny clenched his fist and held it up in entirely the wrong way to punch someone. "I'll knock your stupid white teeth down your stupid throat, Evan, I honestly will."
"I don't feel sorry for you," Evan objected.
"Why else would you be here?" Johnny was looking around for something to throw at him, Evan was pretty sure.
"I..." Evan flailed around for words. "I don't feel sorry for you, I'm just sorry that the judges fucked you like that. You skated really well."
"I know that!" Johnny shouted. He picked up one of the cups off the counter and actually hurled it against the wall. It shattered, leaving a wet splotch on the wall and shards of glass on the carpet.
Evan bit his lip.
Johnny closed his eyes and took a couple of long breaths, shoulders going exaggeratedly up and down. "I am not talking to anyone right now. I didn't answer the phone for my mother this morning. You are the last person in the whole world that I want to see." He opened his eyes and looked up at Evan, accidentally wielding the full power of his stupid eyelashes. "Go away."
"But I can help," Evan protested. It sounded stupid as soon as he'd said it, and he winced preemptively, knowing it was going to set Johnny off again. If Johnny had won and Evan had placed sixth Evan would probably have burned Johnny's house down or something. "No, I mean -- actually I'm freaking out, and I thought you... you might..."
"Please tell me you didn't just bang the door down hoping I'd help you," said Johnny tiredly. "Are you honestly that stupid?"
"Yes," Evan said. "I mean, no. Well, I did think you could maybe help, but only because... you're like me. Do you know what you're going to do next? I just fucking realized, what am I going to do next?"
"A shit ton of press where you flash your medal," said Johnny. "You can use it to pick up girls, it'll be great."
"But there are so many hours in a day to fill up," said Evan. "What am I gonna do?"
Johnny rolled his eyes. "I need to pack, and now I have to vaccuum so Tanith doesn't step on glass, and my flight leaves in like, five hours. Do you mind?"
Evan almost whispered, "I thought maybe we could help each other."
There was something really odd about the way Johnny was standing there, with his arms crossed and his chin up. He's fragile, Tanith had said, and Evan had scoffed, because Johnny was lots of things, but not that. "How could you possibly help me?" Johnny demanded. "You don't know anything about me, and you don't want to. You--"
Evan lunged forward and kissed him. It had worked before, after all. Johnny made a shocked noise, and his eyes got wider. He put his hands on Evan's shoulders and pushed him back a step.
"What the hell was that?" Johnny demanded.
"It was better before," Evan said, frowning.
"When, in your head?" Johnny snapped. "Have you been planning this? Is this your big gay post-Olympics freakout? After all those years of repression you can finally do whatever you want, right?"
"Yeah." Evan was still holding on to Johnny, and it was a little awkward, but he was worried if he let go Johnny was going to lock himself in his bedroom.
Johnny looked like he was going to yell, and then he sort of deflated again. "Well, good for you," he said tiredly. "Glad winning the medal made you feel more comfortable with yourself. But I'm not that easy." He shrugged out of Evan's hold.
Evan squinted confusedly at him. "I don't think you're easy," he said, although they had had a lot of sex in a slightly different world.
"Obviously you think I'm just waiting around, hoping you'll end up gay so I can get my evil gay hands on you," said Johnny. He threw some shoes in a suitcase and then frowned and rearranged them neatly toe to heel.
"We should try that kiss again," said Evan stubbornly. "I'm pretty sure I did it wrong, because usually that works."
Johnny glared at him. "Has it occurred to you that I'm not actually a girl, and flashing your medal and kissing me won't make me melt?"
"It worked on you!" Evan protested, and then stopped, because that probably sounded insane.
"Not really," said Johnny. "Jesus, don't step there. There's glass in the carpet. Just... get out of my way, Evan. I need to pack and I need to clean. God, do I need to clean. I need to be alone, okay? The only thing that is ever going to make me feel better is being blessedly all alone."
Evan felt a little like crying. None of this was going right. He was close, he could feel it, but this Johnny was a lot harder to get to than the other Johnny had been. "I still think--"
"Evan." Johnny just sounded exhausted. "You made your point. You're not evil, you don't hate me, you aren't being a smug dick. The last ten years have all been a big misunderstanding, and maybe in another ten years I'll be ready to talk to you like a human being. But right now, I need you to go away."
Evan stood there awkwardly for a minute, like maybe if he waited Johnny would change his mind. Johnny folded up a sweater and started a terribly neat pile on the couch. Then he went to the closet and started finding the parts for the vaccuum, as if Evan had already left.
"Okay, then," said Evan. It had been kind of a stupid idea anyway. This Johnny wasn't the other Johnny. This Johnny didn't really like him, and he didn't have any reason to. Evan had no right to be hung up on this Johnny. They'd never been friends or lovers, so he couldn't be upset about losing anything.
It still felt like his heart was being wrenched out of his chest, a little bit. "Well," said Evan. "Bye."
Johnny never even looked up.
next
Fandom: Skating RPS (Johnny Weir/Evan Lysacek)
previously
Evan woke up and reached for Johnny.
He was alone in his bed.
His own bed, the one in his own apartment in L.A., the one he'd been expecting to wake up in twice now. There was a tiny twinge of sadness, but mostly Evan sat up and pumped his fist with a triumphant, "Yes!" These were his sheets and those were his medals on the wall, and all his shit was right where he'd left it. Evan felt like he could run a marathon and still have the energy for a pre-Olympic practice session with Frank.
He bounded out of bed and then skidded to a stop, because his knees kind of ached in a weird way, and it occurred to Evan suddenly that someone else might have been living inside his body all day yesterday, and he could have done anything.
On the other hand, it was possible Evan had just taken drugs by accident and his entire previous day had been a very vivid hallucination. That sounded more right. Evan's head wasn't throbbing like he'd gotten drunk, but maybe LSD didn't leave you feeling woozy the next morning.
Evan touched all the furniture in his bedroom as he walked past it, like a ritual to make sure he was really back and he wasn't going away again. He took a quick shower and enjoyed how tan he was again, and then grabbed his keys, rejoicing in driving his own car and knowing where he was going.
He was especially glad to see Frank, even when Frank growled, "If you're going to skate like you did yesterday, why did you bother showing up? Give me ten laps and we're starting with triples."
Evan's stomach flip flopped a little bit at the crack about yesterday. So much for convincing himself it hadn't really happened. It felt like it hadn't happened, but... well, some other him, the one who was dating Johnny, had tried to skate singles and hadn't lived up to Evan's normal technical skills because he was used to skating with Tanith. Of course, any Evan anywhere should have been driven and focused. Maybe that Evan was just distracted because he missed Johnny.
This Evan, though, was feeling strong and athletic and ready to fight. He knew his routines and he knew this ice and he loved how everything made sense. He liked that he wasn't trying to watch Tanith or Johnny while he skated, and he didn't have to be afraid the Cold War would break out across the rink. You depend on yourself, man, Evan thought, getting ready for a jump. You work for yourself, you skate for yourself, you keep yourself going. Fight, win!
Evan hit all his jumps and skated over to Frank for a pep talk. Frank's pep talks tended to be more along the lines of do or die, with an emphasis on the threat of death, rather than actual motivation, but Evan was used to that.
Today was a little different. "Now do you see why Johnny Weir isn't practicing with us?" Frank sneered.
Evan was taken aback. "Uh, because he's in New Jersey?"
"You seemed confused about it yesterday," said Frank. Evan grimaced. If the other Evan had been asking about Johnny, then everyone was going to think he'd lost his mind. "And Tanith! What kind of weirdo wants to skate with his ex?" Frank glared suspiciously at Evan.
"Yesterday was weird," said Evan lamely. "Sorry." At some point he was going to wonder what had happened, and why, but mostly he was trying not to think about it.
"We have the Olympics in a couple of weeks! We have no time for weird," said Frank, and sent Evan back out to practice.
He was distracted now, though. Was other-Evan back home with his Johnny? Would he be mad he'd missed the proposal? Had he been lonely all day on his own? Evan had never considered himself lonely except in the "being single" sense.
He wiped out on a quad axel and shooting pain flared through his hip. "Get up!" bawled Frank.
When the other Evan fell, Johnny probably skated by to make sure was okay, thought Evan resentfully. Well, or to make fun of him, but maybe that would have been okay. And Evan was absolutely sure Johnny's hands were good for massages on injured thighs. He got a little distracted by what else Johnny's hands were good for and tripped himself trying to do footwork.
"Oww," said Evan, a little plaintively. Frank was unmoved.
Evan did a morning and an afternoon session to make up for the day before, and then he headed home to escape from Frank muttering "Johnny freaking Weir" at him. The drive home was pleasingly devoid of maniacs trying to read and text and drive all at once, at least inside the car with Evan. And no one wanted him to talk about Brad and Jen or hummed terrible pop music at him.
It was great.
"This is great," Evan said to himself, blending a protein shake. He sprawled all over the couch and absolutely didn't think about wrestling with Johnny on his couch in Jersey. Or Johnny moaning. Or Johnny's ass.
It couldn't have been a dream; no dream had ever left Evan feeling so restless and distracted before. It had felt really, really real, and some parts of Evan's body were still caught up in it. He pushed the heel of his hand against his crotch and thought about Johnny's mouth, not on purpose or anything. Evan groaned a little. What had that day even meant? Evan didn't like dudes, and he couldn't stand Johnny fucking Weir. He clenched his teeth and rubbed his hand harder against his track pants and told himself he was being weird. He tried superimposing Nastia over Johnny in his memory, but he couldn't imagine Nastia laughing like that, pushing him off and teasing him in bed, calling him out on how much he loved having his tattoo licked.
Johnny's face kept flickering up, laughing, rolling his eyes, smiling wickedly at Evan and batting his girly fucking lashes.
Evan wasn't usually this horny, sitting around on the couch and getting off to a memory. A memory of something that might not have even been real, and which he was going to forget just as soon as he was done remembering how great the sex was.
His hand crept under the waistband of his pants, and Evan tried to pretend he wasn't thinking about Johnny sucking on his fingers. His dick didn't much care what he claimed; after a couple of rough strokes he was hunched over the couch, grunting and trying to remember what Johnny had done to get him off so fast.
Evan may or may not have been remembering Johnny moan, "Oh, daddy," when he came.
Almost immediately he was overwhelmed by embarrassment. How could he possibly have been this turned on by Johnny? Wrong wrong wrong. He picked up the phone and dialed Nastia's number, then decided he didn't want to freak her out and dialed Tanith instead.
"I changed your name in my phone to 'drunk asshole,'" said Tanith by way of a greeting.
"Hey," said Evan. He hesitated for a second, and decided it was easier not to try to really explain. "Do you ever have weird dreams?"
"I dreamed I was taking a French test on a waterslide," said Tanith. "I figure it's Olympic nerves."
"Oh," said Evan, nodding. "That makes sense."
"What makes sense?"
"I dreamed about -- nothing, never mind."
"Is this about yesterday?" Tanith asked. "Because I'm still not giving you Johnny's number."
Evan made a weird face involuntarily. "Shit. I called you yesterday?"
Tanith sighed a little. "Fine, pretend you don't remember. You wanted to know all about Johnny. His number, his address, if he's single. You asked me if I thought he was truly happy, Evan. It was a mess."
She was smirky, and yeah, it was embarrassing as hell, but Evan got how confused and worried the other him must have been. Johnny in this universe was single and kind of crazy. Evan thought about how the other Johnny had confessed to being lonely and his stomach twisted.
His Johnny was different, though, Evan decided. He was constantly, irritatingly flamboyant and energetic. He was always playing with the girl skaters or being silly at exhibitions. He was in fashion shows, for god's sake. He had a collection of fur hats, Evan was pretty sure. He wasn't sad, he was Johnny freaking Weir.
"Hello?" Tanith said.
"I'm, um.. I'm trying to keep an eye on my competition. Did I ask about Jeremy, too?" Evan floundered.
Tanith laughed. "You so didn't. It sounded like you were more interested in getting personal with Johnny."
She couldn't see him blushing through the phone. Evan reminded himself of that. "You're crazy," he scoffed.
"First time you call me in months and it's to ask if Johnny Weir is single?"
"I just had a really weird dream, is all," Evan protested.
There was a long silence. "It was a sex dream, wasn't it," said Tanith. "I knew it. I always knew your 'rivalry' was bullshit. Are you finally having your big gay freakout? Poor Nastia."
"No!" Evan said, and then, "Wait, what? My big what?"
"You're the poster boy for repression," Tanith said. "And Johnny is everything you're not. Loud, outspoken, flamboyant. I knew you were a little obsessed with him, but this is hilarious. I mean, the problem is that he hates you, but you probably aren't worried about that. I should be recording this conversation."
"No!" squeaked Evan again.
"I bet you could talk him around. Well, maybe. Eventually. Flashing your medals at him won't work. Oh my god, I'd love you see you try that. Please try that, Evan," Tanith said gleefully.
It had eventually worked for the other Evan. He rolled his eyes at her obvious enjoyment of his pain. "You're mean," he said. "And I don't want to date Johnny. I just want to know why he was in my dream."
"Sex dream!"
"Shut up. I mean, why him? Why not you? You would have made sense. We could have gotten married."
"Um, no, we really couldn't have," said Tanith, a little sadly. "Wait, in this dream, you and Johnny were mar--"
Evan interrupted her loudly, "I just didn't think I cared about that stuff. But maybe my brain is trying to send me a message."
"Good luck with that," muttered Tanith. "Anyway, I don't care what your brain wants, Johnny's my friend and I'm not going to let you mess with him."
Evan nodded, forgetting she couldn't see him. "Maybe he's just a thing from the dream, like your waterslide. Maybe I just want a real... I don't know, I'm so focused on the Olympics. Maybe my brain wishes I had a life, too."
"You couldn't figure that out when we were dating?" Tanith sighed.
"It never occurred to me before," confessed Evan. "I guess I must have been a pretty lousy boyfriend." He paused to see if she'd contradict him, but she didn't. Obviously Evan had a lot to add to his 'things to work on' list. "Do you think I could be better? Do you think I could have a house and a wedding and like... the whole thing?" He sounded wistful to himself.
"Maybe," Tanith said. "I never thought you wanted that. What if it interferes with practices and the Olympics?"
Evan thought about the other Johnny, telling him how much better it was having someone who knew the pain of competition to come home to. "Or it could help," Evan said.
"That must have been one hell of a dream," Tanith muttered. "Listen, maybe you shouldn't make any life-changing decisions until after Vancouver. Yesterday you were drinking, today you're dreaming about being gay with Johnny... You might want to talk to a professional."
"You're exaggerating," protested Evan.
"You told me you'll always love me as a friend but Johnny will always have your heart. You have become a really maudlin drunk, by the way."
Evan winced. The other him was a dork. "I guess I was really trashed," he said. "I don't even remember that."
"I intend to use it as blackmail forever."
"Yeah, fair enough," Evan said. "Sorry for bothering you."
"Whatever. Just please don't go telling Johnny you dreamed you two had sex, okay? He's close enough to a breakdown over Vancouver without your interference."
"He-- Is he?" Evan asked. That didn't sound true. Johnny was always saying snotty shit about Evan, badmouthing him as robotic to the press. He seemed fine. The Johnny Evan had just spent the day with seemed fine, too.
"No," Tanith said quickly.
"Uh, okay." Evan was confused. "I'll see you in Vancouver, I guess." Tanith hung up.
Evan really hoped he hadn't left this kind of mess behind for the other Evan to deal with. Stéphane was probably giving him a similar speech about behaving like a lunatic right now. But other-Evan was back to his happy life, and Evan was just... back.
He stared at the phone in his hand for a few minutes. He couldn't be this hung up on Johnny after one day, obviously, so maybe he was hung up on the idea of having someone. Anyone at all. And his brain had been so panicked it had snapped and picked the person he liked least in the whole world.
Evan texted Nastia. Come over again soon!! Miss you!!!! If she came over Evan could try being relationshippy with her. It might be great. He'd been thinking about it as just a way to fool around, but maybe Evan had had this weird experience to tell him it was time to grow up, to move on.
Aren't you busy? Nastia texted back. You're always busy and it's almost the Olympics.
Come over anyway, Evan typed.
LOL, Nastia replied. I'm out of town, but I'll see you next week. XOXO
XXE, Evan typed back. Then he put his phone down and tried to figure out what he was going to do all week. Practice, obviously. Even more than usual. Frank would like that, and it would keep Evan busy.
--
Practice had always been Evan's whole world, and it had always been pretty easy to turn his mind off and just work, but that was before his brain had decided to rebel. Evan would be working on triple lutz combination and bam! Out of nowhere his brain would remind him about Johnny cooking dinner. Or in the middle of a spin he'd think about how the other him had compromised on tanner and gel, and in return Johnny had compromised on luggage, and they'd signed a freaking lease together. That was insanity. It threw off Evan's balance.
Frank was unhappy pretty much all the time. "You're working but you aren't here," he'd bitch. It was true, so Evan just shrugged and tried to keep his head down.
His apartment seemed really empty. Evan deliberately left his sneakers all over the living room because there was no one around to bitch at him, and that was how he liked it. It wasn't as much fun as it should have been. Evan made protein shakes for dinner and tried not to think about anything except Vancouver.
Nastia came over a week later, excited about shopping in L.A. and seeing him, but not, Evan realized, especially interested in listening to him talk about things like mysterious plans the universe had for him. "Do you ever feel lonely?" Evan asked. "Being all alone while you're competing?"
"I can help with feeling lonely," Nastia said, and wrapped her hands in his collar, pulling him down for a kiss.
"Right, no, totally," Evan said uncomfortably. "But I mean... do you ever think about getting married? Or buying a house?"
Nastia froze. "You're kidding, right?"
"I don't mean right now," said Evan. He tried to smile and felt it slapped awkwardly across his face. "Someday. Like... a house and a husband. Maybe a dog?"
Nastia took a step back and patted his collar back down. "Whoa," she said. "I thought this was a booty call. You didn't say I was coming over for your mid-life crisis."
Evan was stung. "This isn't mid-life!" he protested. "I'm only twenty-four."
"It's athlete mid-life," said Nastia. "You have to decide if you're going to quit after this Olympics and stuff. I get it. I just... don't want to be part of it."
"I am not having a crisis!" Evan said. "Seriously, I'm just trying to figure out my life."
"Right," said Nastia, "that's what a mid-life crisis is."
Evan floundered, trying to think of a reply to that. "Yeah... Well... I just thought I'd ask! Okay? Jeez."
Nastia squinted at him. "We can still have sex and all, as long as you promise it doesn't mean you think we're getting married. I'm game."
"Oh," said Evan. That wasn't very romantic. "Uh, okay." Nastia was even shorter than Johnny, and she had to do a lot of work to get up high enough to kiss him. Evan put his hands under her ass and hitched her up.
"Don't do your caveman thing," she said, wrinkling her nose. "I want to go out for dinner after this, and if you throw me around you'll mess up my hair."
"But it's fun," Evan protested.
"For you, maybe," Nastia said. Evan just barely managed not to pout.
They had sex -- carefully -- in the bedroom, and it wasn't bad or anything, though Evan wondered if maybe Nastia was planning her shopping trip while they did it. Sex with chicks was awesome, and Evan still liked boobs a lot. It just wasn't as much fun as Evan was suddenly aware sex could be. Maybe his day in the other world had been trying to tell him he was gay. Or at least bisexual.
They went out to dinner and it was perfectly nice. "We could make this serious," Evan said, biting his lip. "It wouldn't be so bad. You like me. I like you."
Nastia laughed. "No, but seriously, are you feeling okay?" she asked.
Evan slumped a little in his chair. "I'm fine," he muttered.
"You should think about dating someone who's at the same point in their life that you are," Nastia said thoughtfully. She'd ordered cheesecake just to torture him, Evan was pretty sure. It was his favorite and he wasn't allowed to have it before the Olympics. "Instead of trying to turn a hook up into a wedding, you could just buy a red Jag. Or find someone else who's done competing and wants to settle down."
Evan stared at her. "I'm not done! The Olympics are in a week!"
"Right," Nastia said. "And after that?"
"After that is Dancing with the Stars and Stars on Ice," said Evan.
Nastia sighed. "I know, but sweetie, at some point? You're going to realize that you have to do something else. And I think it's going to be really rough on you, because you're kind of crazy. I mean, the suicide workouts? The insane schedule?"
Evan muttered, "I don't suppose you find my work ethic kind of endearing?"
"I'm not marrying someone I don't see all day," Nastia said flatly. "And I'm not marrying anyone right now. I don't know if you need to cover up a sex tape scandal, or make your mom happy, or what. But I'm not your girl." Evan crossed his arms and stared at his shoes. "We can still hook up whenever," Nastia said kindly. "But if you want someone to cook you dinner and cuddle with you at night, look somewhere else."
"What if the only person I know who might do that hates me?" Evan asked bleakly.
Nastia smiled sadly. "That sucks," she said. "Maybe you can persuade her you're a good guy. You are a good guy, Evan."
Last time Evan had seen his version of Johnny had been at Nationals. He'd made fun of Johnny for not doing a quad -- even Jeremy had a quad -- and Johnny had yelled at him after the press conference and stormed off.
Evan's brain -- or the universe, or whatever was going on -- couldn't possibly want him to try to hit on Johnny. That was absurd. The universe wasn't that cruel and random. It had to be something else. The marriage thing, or the gay thing.
Evan kissed Nastia good night and went to pack for Vancouver. The other Johnny only had three suitcases. He wondered how many his had.
--
Vancouver was full of energy. Evan was skating better than he had all year, but he had left-over energy somehow, making him unable to sleep or relax. Interviews made him restless. Practice left him more keyed up than ever. Evan decided to go to Tanith's room and see how she was doing.
When she answered, he decided it was better to deal with the whole thing like ripping off a band-aid. "I want to get married," he blurted. "Or my brain does. Or maybe my brain thinks I'm gay. Or I might be having like, psychotic daydreams or something."
"Hi," said Tanith calmly. "Wow."
"I know," Evan said miserably. "The good news is I'm still skating well, and that's most important. Can I come in?"
"Well..." Tanith hesitated, looking over her shoulder.
"C'mon," whined Evan, voice going high and California-heavy. "You said we would hang out in Vancouver."
She squinted at him. "Are you seriously claiming you're here to hang out with me?"
"Claiming?" Evan asked. "I... yes? What are you you talking about?"
Johnny Weir appeared behind Tanith's shoulder. "I'm pretending I didn't hear the gay part," he said. "You can thank me later."
Evan felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. "What's he doing here?" he asked numbly. His brain was freaking out, trying to get his mouth to yell, We had sex!!!! He was frozen awkwardly with one hand on the doorjamb, trying not to fall over or shriek.
"Oh, please," said Tanith. "Everyone in the Village knows I'm rooming with Johnny."
"But he's a boy!" Evan protested.
"Nice of you to notice," snarked Johnny. "Oh, let him in, Tanith. Poor baby might cry, and you don't want him to start rusting up before the short program. I'll make myself scarce."
"You don't have to," Evan said. He felt like he was on autopilot, with no idea what he might say next. He'd expected some warning before he had to deal with Johnny again. He needed a script.
Johnny raised an eyebrow at Tanith, who shook her head. "I don't know," she said. "It's either a great idea or a terrible idea. For one of you, at least."
"Are you trying to psych me out?" Johnny asked suspiciously. "Because I have to tell you, that's a weak little bitchy move." He didn't sound anything like the other Johnny, Evan realized a little sadly. He was cold and haughty. Evan wished he could shrink himself a little.
"No," said Evan.
"Because you don't think you need to?" Johnny asked, hands on his hips and narrowing his eyes. He was wearing warm-up clothes with a fur shrug over them. It was weird.
"Be nice," said Tanith. "You can come in, I guess." She moved so Evan could enter. The apartment was spotless, almost scarily so. Evan knew a few things about stress cleaning. He wondered if it was Tanith or Johnny or both who was freaking out. There was a Lady Gaga poster up, too. That had to be Johnny's.
"I don't want to interfere in your grand reunion," said Johnny, pronouncing grand reunion like it was French. He was sort of terrifying pretentious. "I'll go."
"Don't be bitchy," said Tanith sharply.
"You should stay," Evan said. "We could... talk... about stuff."
Johnny looked at Tanith again. She shrugged. "I always thought you two could be friends, if you weren't so busy hating each other."
"Two days before the short program is no time to make new friends," Johnny snapped. He was glaring at Evan like Evan had come there to steal something from him.
Tanith sighed. "We can be friends, then," and pointed him toward the couch.
"Cool, thanks," Evan said, slumping as he sat. "I just thought maybe we could hang out. Bond, maybe."
"Has he snapped?" Johnny demanded, getting shrill as he turned to Tanith.
Tanith rolled her eyes. "Be nice, he's fragile."
"He's fragile?" Johnny stomped his foot.
Tanith leaned over and whispered in his ear. Evan tried not to imagine what she might be saying about him.
"Well, I don't see why that should be my problem," said Johnny, crossing his arms, but he kicked the door shut. "Do you want a snack? I need to eat." He bustled angrily around the suite's little kitchenette.
Tanith gestured at Evan, like Leave it alone, don't push him right now. She sat next to him on the couch. "Have any dreams lately?" Tanith asked, with a wicked little grin.
Evan turned red and looked quickly at Johnny, who had his back turned, thank god. "No," he mumbled. Mostly he'd been dreaming about skating, and Frank yelling, and sometimes Frank was his English teacher and he was naked in class and Mirai was there giggling with Yu-na, but usually the skating thing.
Just once it had been Johnny in a naughty nurse outfit, but Evan was going to die before he confessed to that.
"Good," said Tanith. "I was a little worried about you."
"I'm okay," said Evan. "Just a little lost, I guess."
"You'd think, with your view, you wouldn't get lost," snotted Johnny. He had sliced up fruit and added granola and whole wheat crackers on a plate, which he slammed down on the coffee table. "It's not poisoned," he snapped, when Evan didn't move.
"Relax, princess, we appreciate you," Tanith said, rolling her eyes.
Johnny snorted and ate a grape. "This is the weirdest party I've ever been to."
Evan thought about the engagement party and Stéphane's amazing code words. "There are weirder," he said.
"Are you okay?" Johnny asked. "I don't get it. You're a medal favorite, and that's, like, literally all you want on Earth, besides maybe humiliating me."
"There's more to me than that," Evan protested. He tried to think of things. "I like... I... I'm fun!"
"You're fun like a math test," said Johnny. "I'm fun."
"Maybe Johnny could teach you to be fun," said Tanith brightly.
Johnny glared daggers at her, and then turned to glare at Evan, like it was his idea. "Maybe," Evan agreed, trying to stare Johny down. Why wasn't this Johnny ever nice?
"I don't have that kind of time," Johnny said meanly. "That would take years."
What if we dated for four years? Evan wondered. Would you think I was fun then? Would you be less of a flaky bitch? "I am not actually a robot," said Evan aloud, grumpily.
"Could have fooled me."
It was weird, but arguing with Johnny like this, Evan felt almost the same tingle in his stomach he'd felt right before they kissed. It was the tension, crackling between them. Evan's body suddenly wasn't sure how to interpret it.
You're going to get married or kill each other, Evan remembered, and this time he understood it. Part of him wanted to punch the smirk right off Johnny's face. Part of him wanted to grab Johnny with both hands and kiss him. Actually, Evan realized, he wanted to punch Johnny and then kiss him. It was a more complicated emotion than he was used to.
"Why are you staring at me?" Johnny asked.
"My program got stuck in a loop," Evan said, trying to match Johnny's nasty tone.
"Okay, enough, break it up," Tanith ordered, looking from one to the other. "Play nice, please."
"I'm always nice," said Johnny, deadly sweet.
"You can be," Evan said, thinking about the other Johnny. "But you aren't to me."
Johnny's mouth dropped open a little bit. It wasn't an especially good look on him. "Why would I be nice to you? You're my competition! You're not nice to me!"
"But what if we..." Evan said, trailing off. He fidgeted a little bit. "What if we weren't each other's big rivals?"
"Like... if you broke your leg?" Johnny asked, sitting reluctantly on the couch beside him.
"No," huffed Evan. "What if one of us skated pairs?"
Tanith snorted.
"I'm just saying, what if," Evan said defensively. "If you weren't always skating directly against me, would we have been friends? We kind of liked each other when we were really young."
"I doubt it," Johnny said. Evan frowned. Johnny rubbed his hands against his thighs uncomfortably. "Why, do you think we'd be braiding each others' hair and having sleepovers?"
Evan worked really, really hard not to think about sleeping with Johnny. He kept his voice as blank as he possibly could. "Maybe. I mean. We both have the same experiences. We both work hard, we both know what it's like to stand out there, skating with all that pressure. We both know what it's like to lose miserably. We both know what it's like to win. We're both lonely. Honestly, who could understand you better than me?" He was proud of himself for remembering so much of what the other Johnny had said. He was a little surprised at how true it felt.
There was a long, uncomfortable silence. Tanith was staring at Evan, eyes huge. Johnny was staring, too, but he was somewhere between bewildered and hostile.
"Wow," Tanith managed finally. "Evan, that was almost... eloquent."
"I was just thinking about it, is all," Evan muttered. He was pretty sure eloquent was a good thing.
Johnny looked shaken, how strange was that? "We... we can not be friends while the Olympics are going on," he said. "After that, I don't know. I guess we do... I guess we have some things in common." He added grudgingly, "You'll never be fabulous like I am, but I'll never be orange like you are, either. I guess it's possible."
"I bet--" Evan started happily.
Tanith elbowed him in the side. "Quit while you're ahead," she hissed.
Evan nodded and passed Johnny the fruit plate.
Tanith gnawed on a cracker. "So, how's the TV show going?"
"Oh, it's okay," Johnny said carelessly. "They can't film in the Village, but we're getting good footage otherwise. They were so glad I made the Olympics, we get to extend the run an episode."
Evan's stomach sank. What if this wasn't his right universe, either, and he hadn't even noticed? Johnny had a TV show? What?
"Sundance must love you," Tanith said. "You are so willing to show your ass on TV."
Johnny giggled. "Might as well, I won't have it forever."
Tanith rolled her eyes. "I saw one episode, and honey, isn't your mom like, 'Johnny, put your clothes back on'?"
"My mother understands me," sniffed Johnny. "But there was once when I was posing with Tara and I was pretty naked, and Patti kept trying to cover me up. It was hilarious."
"I'll look forward to seeing that," Tanith said.
"It's a nice ass," said Evan. His brain was running his mouth without his input again.
Johnny gave him an arch look that he recognized from the other Johnny. This was teasing. "Noticed, did you?" Johnny drawled.
Evan flushed a little. "It's not like you try to hide it."
"Why should I?" Johnny demanded, obviously expecting a fight.
Evan was back to wanting to punch-kiss him. "If you go shaking it all over, somebody just might be tempted to do something about it," he growled.
Johnny kind of froze.
"Uh," said Tanith.
"Are you offering?" Johnny demanded, going for sassy and missing by a mile.
Evan had competed against Johnny since they were both kids; he knew when he had an advantage and he knew how to push it. "Maybe," said Evan evenly.
Some of the memories of throwing Johnny onto the bed and making him pay for all those smart remarks was bleeding through his expression, because Johnny shivered. He was staring, mouth a little bit open, and Evan wanted to bite that pouty stupid lower lip. He clenched his finger in the cushions of the couch.
"You wish," said Johnny finally, half-heartedly.
"You can pretend you haven't thought about it all you want," Evan said, "but I noticed your ass, and you noticed my shoulders and my legs and my back." He was pretty confident that if the other Johnny had, this one would have, too. He tried to add I know the noises you make when I shove you against a wall with just his stare.
Johnny was blushing. Holy shit, Johnny was blushing. "I have not!"
"Oh, you have," Tanith said. "Let me tell you, big hands, I know you're the one." She smiled cheerily at Evan, who grinned back.
"No, shut up, I did not," Johnny said, flustered. "Get away from me, you go sit over there." He pointed imperiously at the other end of the couch.
Evan had déjà vu so badly he felt dizzy. He scooched toward Tanith.
"I'm going to go practice," Johnny said, standing up. "You do whatever you want." He was still a little pink as he grabbed his bag and flounced out, slamming the door.
"Well," said Tanith, raising her eyebrows at Evan. She sounded admiring.
"What?" Evan asked.
"That must have been one hell of a dream," said Tanith.
"You have no idea."
--
Evan saw Johnny on the ice, warming up, but they didn't talk. Johnny was really, really focused, and so was Evan. He didn't have time to try to work out what the hell was wrong with Johnny Weir just then. Evan had Frank shouting at him and Plushenko staring him down. Joubert and Lambiel were chatting in French, but he tuned that out, too. Evan was focused on the podium.
Johnny missed a triple and skidded into the wall with a thump that made Evan wince. He hesitated for a second, but he was right there, so as he skated by Evan offered Johnny a hand up.
The glare he got probably singed his eyebrows off. Johnny pushed himself to his feet and almost knocked Evan over as he skated past. "Well, fine," muttered Evan, and went back to his own practice. Apparently there was no such thing as getting on Johnny's good side, ever. Or maybe this Johnny didn't have a good side. Maybe all the sexual tension in the world didn't matter, because Johnny was really a bitch. Evan went back to practicing quads and pretended he couldn't see Johnny at all.
"That was so interesting," said Stéphane later, when they were both in the locker room, changing.
"What was?" asked Evan. "Oh. That? That was just. That was nothing."
"I am intrigued by your nothing!" said Stéphane cheerfully. "I think it is quite an interesting nothing, and I have long wondered about this nothing, eh? Ha! Yes. Nothing indeed."
Stéphane was making Evan dizzy. "Right," said Evan. "I guess."
"Can I offer you the word of advice with this nothing?" asked Stéphane. Evan shrugged. Stéphane leaned in closer, waggling his eyebrows hilariously. "I think you will find with our fine feathered friend that honey gets you nowhere if the flies, they expect vinegar."
"I have no idea what that means," Evan said, pulling on his socks.
"It is simple," said Stéphane. "Johnny will never trust you if you are nice to him. That is very strange! He expects teasing and competition. You must give him what he expects and then show him it is not what he expects!"
Evan was slowly, vaguely starting to work out what Stéphane meant. "That makes sense, in a backwards way," Evan admitted. "But who says I even want to bother? I thought maybe we... but I might be mistaken. I might be reading something in to nothing." His brain wasn't even pretending anymore that he might want someone else. He wanted Johnny.
"Johnny and I, we are are good friends," said Stéphane. "I assure you, it is not so dire as all that. He is just... he is a cactus. You must be a cautious deer. The eagle, he has not landed yet!"
Either Evan had déjà vu again, or all Stéphanes in all universes were a little bit crazy. He stared at Stéphane, who grinned back at him.
"He hates me," said Evan, a little plaintively.
"Yes," agreed Stéphane. "And yet also no. But you have hated him, isn't it true?"
Evan shrugged. "He's so annoying."
"The pot and the kettle," said Stéphane. He clapped Evan on the back. "Good luck, my friend!"
Evan wished he weren't so utterly transparent to everyone around him. "Thanks," he said. "I guess."
"You will need quite a lot of it," added Stéphane.
--
Evan won the gold medal.
It was like his entire life had been leading up to this one moment, and he had it, and the world was a better place, a lighter place, and anything was possible and everything was wonderful, and he couldn't stop smiling like a lunatic. He could barely even figure out what people were saying to him when they congratulated him; his ears were so full of buzzing that all he could do was nod and smile and thank them and hope he made sense. He couldn't even hear his own thoughts, he was so excited, he tingled everywhere and he couldn't stand still. He wanted to jump or scream or rip all his clothes off. He couldn't breathe because his heart was going to pound straight ouf of his chest from joy. Plushenko stormed off in a huff, but Jeremy hugged him, and Stéphane, and Brian. Even Johnny, so grudgingly that he didn't even pretend to smile. Evan was too high to care. It was the most perfect night of his life.
It wasn't until later, when Evan had gone to the rink to watch the girls skate and practice, that Mirai grinned and him and said, "What are you going to do with your life now, gold-medal winner Evan Lysacek?"
"I--" Evan said, and then stopped, because he couldn't breathe.
Mirai waited a second and then giggled. "Dancing with the Stars," she prompted.
"Stars on Ice," Evan said, choking on every word.
"And a life of relaxation?" Mirai winked. "You're soooo lucky."
Evan didn't want to freak out in front of her, so he said, "Go skate," and she pretended to pout, but she went out to warm up before Frank got really mad. And then Evan was alone enough to absolutely melt down.
His entire life so far had been about the medal, and now he had it, and so he was going to... what? Do commercials? Skate in exhibitions? Nothing he could think of was a career, none of it was going to keep him busy 18 hours a day for the next four years. You can win in Sochi, bro,, he reassured himself, but he knew that was a temporary fix. After Sochi, then what?
Evan's hands were shaking. He clenched the edge of his chair until his knuckles went white and his wrists ached.
It didn't matter if he hurt himself now, he'd already won. It didn't matter what he ate now, he'd already won. It didn't matter what he said to anyone now, he'd already won.
It also, he realized a little distantly, didn't matter who he fucked, or what he said about Johnny Weir, or if they still had any kind of rivalry at all.
Evan felt equal parts liberated and terrified. It was a heady, dizzying, nauseating feeling. He was either going to barf all over the rink or he was going to fly home. He fumbled his phone out and texted Tanith, is johnny still here?
She didn't text back right away, and Evan was terrified that Johnny had already left. He wasn't skating in the exhibition, so he'd left. Evan wasn't sure he could track down this Johnny based on where the other Johnny's apartment in New Jersey had been, and he hadn't even gotten Johnny's phone number.
Evan's phone beeped. leaving tonight, Tanith had texted back. maybe not a good time im not there
He bolted out of the rink and across the Village, using all that adrenaline that had hit him like a freight train. Evan maybe banged a little too enthusiastically on Tanith's door, but he was in a rush, and he felt like hitting things.
"What?" Johnny demanded, yanking the door open. He was wearing jean capris and a t-shirt, and he didn't look much like flashy Johnny Weir at all. There were bags under his eyes and his hair was a mess and he might not have even been wearing makeup. Evan's brain superimposed a big flashing WRONG!!!! WRONG!!!! WRONG!!!! sign over Johnny's face.
"Hi," said Evan.
Johnny shoved the door shut again, but Evan already had his foot there. It hurt a little. Johnny muttered something angrily under his breath that might have been Russian and turned on his toe, stalking off back into the apartment. Evan followed. "Are you okay?" Evan asked.
"I'm fine," Johnny said. He was using that super high-pitched careless stereotypically gay voice that sounded like nails on a chalkboard to Evan. "I'm super fine, thanks for asking."
Evan wasn't sure what to say. "You skated really well--" he started, but Johnny cut him off, rounding on him with a vicious expression.
"Don't," he snapped. "Save it, okay. I know I skated well. I skated fucking perfect and I'm being punished, and it's my own fault. But I swear to god if you feel sorry for me I'll... I'll..." Johnny clenched his fist and held it up in entirely the wrong way to punch someone. "I'll knock your stupid white teeth down your stupid throat, Evan, I honestly will."
"I don't feel sorry for you," Evan objected.
"Why else would you be here?" Johnny was looking around for something to throw at him, Evan was pretty sure.
"I..." Evan flailed around for words. "I don't feel sorry for you, I'm just sorry that the judges fucked you like that. You skated really well."
"I know that!" Johnny shouted. He picked up one of the cups off the counter and actually hurled it against the wall. It shattered, leaving a wet splotch on the wall and shards of glass on the carpet.
Evan bit his lip.
Johnny closed his eyes and took a couple of long breaths, shoulders going exaggeratedly up and down. "I am not talking to anyone right now. I didn't answer the phone for my mother this morning. You are the last person in the whole world that I want to see." He opened his eyes and looked up at Evan, accidentally wielding the full power of his stupid eyelashes. "Go away."
"But I can help," Evan protested. It sounded stupid as soon as he'd said it, and he winced preemptively, knowing it was going to set Johnny off again. If Johnny had won and Evan had placed sixth Evan would probably have burned Johnny's house down or something. "No, I mean -- actually I'm freaking out, and I thought you... you might..."
"Please tell me you didn't just bang the door down hoping I'd help you," said Johnny tiredly. "Are you honestly that stupid?"
"Yes," Evan said. "I mean, no. Well, I did think you could maybe help, but only because... you're like me. Do you know what you're going to do next? I just fucking realized, what am I going to do next?"
"A shit ton of press where you flash your medal," said Johnny. "You can use it to pick up girls, it'll be great."
"But there are so many hours in a day to fill up," said Evan. "What am I gonna do?"
Johnny rolled his eyes. "I need to pack, and now I have to vaccuum so Tanith doesn't step on glass, and my flight leaves in like, five hours. Do you mind?"
Evan almost whispered, "I thought maybe we could help each other."
There was something really odd about the way Johnny was standing there, with his arms crossed and his chin up. He's fragile, Tanith had said, and Evan had scoffed, because Johnny was lots of things, but not that. "How could you possibly help me?" Johnny demanded. "You don't know anything about me, and you don't want to. You--"
Evan lunged forward and kissed him. It had worked before, after all. Johnny made a shocked noise, and his eyes got wider. He put his hands on Evan's shoulders and pushed him back a step.
"What the hell was that?" Johnny demanded.
"It was better before," Evan said, frowning.
"When, in your head?" Johnny snapped. "Have you been planning this? Is this your big gay post-Olympics freakout? After all those years of repression you can finally do whatever you want, right?"
"Yeah." Evan was still holding on to Johnny, and it was a little awkward, but he was worried if he let go Johnny was going to lock himself in his bedroom.
Johnny looked like he was going to yell, and then he sort of deflated again. "Well, good for you," he said tiredly. "Glad winning the medal made you feel more comfortable with yourself. But I'm not that easy." He shrugged out of Evan's hold.
Evan squinted confusedly at him. "I don't think you're easy," he said, although they had had a lot of sex in a slightly different world.
"Obviously you think I'm just waiting around, hoping you'll end up gay so I can get my evil gay hands on you," said Johnny. He threw some shoes in a suitcase and then frowned and rearranged them neatly toe to heel.
"We should try that kiss again," said Evan stubbornly. "I'm pretty sure I did it wrong, because usually that works."
Johnny glared at him. "Has it occurred to you that I'm not actually a girl, and flashing your medal and kissing me won't make me melt?"
"It worked on you!" Evan protested, and then stopped, because that probably sounded insane.
"Not really," said Johnny. "Jesus, don't step there. There's glass in the carpet. Just... get out of my way, Evan. I need to pack and I need to clean. God, do I need to clean. I need to be alone, okay? The only thing that is ever going to make me feel better is being blessedly all alone."
Evan felt a little like crying. None of this was going right. He was close, he could feel it, but this Johnny was a lot harder to get to than the other Johnny had been. "I still think--"
"Evan." Johnny just sounded exhausted. "You made your point. You're not evil, you don't hate me, you aren't being a smug dick. The last ten years have all been a big misunderstanding, and maybe in another ten years I'll be ready to talk to you like a human being. But right now, I need you to go away."
Evan stood there awkwardly for a minute, like maybe if he waited Johnny would change his mind. Johnny folded up a sweater and started a terribly neat pile on the couch. Then he went to the closet and started finding the parts for the vaccuum, as if Evan had already left.
"Okay, then," said Evan. It had been kind of a stupid idea anyway. This Johnny wasn't the other Johnny. This Johnny didn't really like him, and he didn't have any reason to. Evan had no right to be hung up on this Johnny. They'd never been friends or lovers, so he couldn't be upset about losing anything.
It still felt like his heart was being wrenched out of his chest, a little bit. "Well," said Evan. "Bye."
Johnny never even looked up.
next