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Fic: Changing light, Roger Federer/Rafael Nadal, G
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fedal_slash
Title: Changing light
Pairing: Roger/Rafa
Rating: G
Disclaimer: made up stuff
Notes: I think I just wanted to make Rogelio feel better.
Summary: Rafa asked him a question
He watched, of course, right to the part where Rafa flung his wristbands into the crowd. He closed his laptop after that and sat with it on his knees.
"Now what?" he said to it.
This hurt quite a lot, which he wasn't surprised about.
He wasn't surprised by the little envelopes that bleeped up on his phone, one after the other, from people who wanted to tell him it was okay. He thumbed through them and didn't answer any.
A little while later one more came and he knew, with a tiny flare of certainty, who it was from before he even opened it.
"Are we okay?" was all it said.
Roger put the phone down on his thigh and stared at it, a hand over his mouth. Rafa would be out of the locker rooms by now, of course. He would be washed and dressed and probably exhausted.
He'd never asked Roger for anything like this before, and Roger wondered when things had changed so much that Rafa could need this of him. His fingers were cold as he pressed the too-small buttons, but at the same time he felt a draining relief. There was no question of not answering.
"Concentrate on tomorrow. Play well. Yes, we are okay. "
He told himself he wasn't waiting for a reply. He got one all the same. It was a deformed looking smiley face and a row of kisses. Roger stared at them and then closed his phone with a snap. Then he opened it and looked again. They were still there. He smiled. It was useful to remember sometimes that Rafa Nadal was only just 22 years old.
He didn't know when things had changed, he really didn't, but they had, softly and subtly like changing light after a storm had passed. He closed down his laptop properly. It was late, and he needed to sleep. He stared at the line of kisses again, for a little while, carefully not thinking. Maybe the changes weren't even so bad.
fedal_slash Title: Changing light
Pairing: Roger/Rafa
Rating: G
Disclaimer: made up stuff
Notes: I think I just wanted to make Rogelio feel better.
Summary: Rafa asked him a question
He watched, of course, right to the part where Rafa flung his wristbands into the crowd. He closed his laptop after that and sat with it on his knees.
"Now what?" he said to it.
This hurt quite a lot, which he wasn't surprised about.
He wasn't surprised by the little envelopes that bleeped up on his phone, one after the other, from people who wanted to tell him it was okay. He thumbed through them and didn't answer any.
A little while later one more came and he knew, with a tiny flare of certainty, who it was from before he even opened it.
"Are we okay?" was all it said.
Roger put the phone down on his thigh and stared at it, a hand over his mouth. Rafa would be out of the locker rooms by now, of course. He would be washed and dressed and probably exhausted.
He'd never asked Roger for anything like this before, and Roger wondered when things had changed so much that Rafa could need this of him. His fingers were cold as he pressed the too-small buttons, but at the same time he felt a draining relief. There was no question of not answering.
"Concentrate on tomorrow. Play well. Yes, we are okay. "
He told himself he wasn't waiting for a reply. He got one all the same. It was a deformed looking smiley face and a row of kisses. Roger stared at them and then closed his phone with a snap. Then he opened it and looked again. They were still there. He smiled. It was useful to remember sometimes that Rafa Nadal was only just 22 years old.
He didn't know when things had changed, he really didn't, but they had, softly and subtly like changing light after a storm had passed. He closed down his laptop properly. It was late, and he needed to sleep. He stared at the line of kisses again, for a little while, carefully not thinking. Maybe the changes weren't even so bad.
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