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When Enemies Attract	By : tennisstar Category: Individual Celebrities > Athlete/Sports Misc Views: 3352 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not know Roger Federer or Novak Djokovic, or claim that this is in any way representative of their true lives. I do not make any profit from the writing of this story. This is fiction.

Chapter List
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- 16
Chapter 16: Wimbledon “Turn out the light; I’ll stay if you want me to.”
Novak’s Wimbledon loss came earlier than expected. He knew his chances of winning were slim, but to go out in the second round to an old timer like Safin was frustrating. He was supposed to win, or really, it was predicted by announcers and reporters alike that Novak would be the victor. Why they had so much confidence in him, Novak didn’t know. He never claimed to be good on grass or clay for that matter. Novak’s game was meant for hard courts, and until he figured out how to adapt on other surfaces, it was torture to make him play them.
The press conference was finished; Novak had showered and cleaned out his locker. He had done everything necessary, and yet he was dragging his feet, not wanting to leave. Novak could find reasons to stick around for a couple days after he lost, but a week and a half might be pushing it. His coaches would want to practice, his family would expect a visit, and he could only claim to be sightseeing for so long.
“Hey man,” Murray said from behind him, clasping a hand down on his shoulder. “I heard about your match.”
Novak offered him a weak smile. “It happens,” he said, dismissing the subject. Novak didn’t care enough to whine about losing, or how Marat was unnecessarily rude to him afterward. Even though he’s fucking number 75 in the world. Just because he got lucky today doesn’t give him the right to be such a prick.
“Where are you off to now?” Murray asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll stick around London for a bit. I’m in no hurry to get home,” Novak said, scooping up his bag and making to leave.
“I got a new video game. You should come by my flat and check it out later,” Andy suggested amicably.
“Weren’t you supposed to be cutting back on video games?” Novak chided playfully. He certainly wasn’t going to make Andy adhere to that promise.
“That was computer games. This is for my Playstation. You can stay over and play games for a couple days,” Andy suggested, as if he wasn’t still playing his country’s greatest sporting event.
“Okay,” Novak agreed, glad to have a reason to stick around for a couple more days. He wanted to at least be in London when Roger won.
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“So what’ve you been up to?” Murray asked as they settled down at a table in the player’s lounge, waiting for their drinks. Novak had come to the stadium with his friend to warm him up for his quarterfinals match against Nadal. It was a bit strange having their roles reversed, Novak usually being the more successful of the two, Murray playing the supportive friend.
“Just tennis. That’s all I do,” Novak replied simply. He had a couple photo shoots coming up in the next few months, but Novak knew how much Andy hated being photographed. He always thought his hair looked a bit too wild, or he was making a funny face. It was Jamie who was considered the more attractive Murray brother, despite Andy’s greater talent and success. Andy would never admit it, but sharing the spotlight with his brother was an area of insecurity for him. In the rare moments when Andy actually acknowledges his feelings, Novak understands what it’s like to be the younger brother, which never fails to make him be nicer to Marko and Djordje.
“Yeah, training is a bit of a time-suck. Do you still see Ana a lot?” Andy asked in a slightly aggressive tone, like he was calling Novak out on having a new best friend.
“Sometimes. She’s always with Verdasco and his friends. Not much time for old friends,” Novak answered civilly, holding back the “none of your business” comment he wanted to throw at his friend. Andy had other friends beside him, his team was like a second family, there was no reason for him to get snippy with Novak for being too busy.
“Those Spaniards are a weird bunch. They’re a bit too friendly for my taste,” Andy said with a mocking chuckle. Novak understood him completely and wanted to smack his friend over the head for being so ignorant and close-minded. Novak wasn’t exactly fond of the Spaniards as a whole, but he wouldn’t fault them for being a bit too touchy-feely with each other on occasion. Novak thought of what Murray might say if he knew how friendly Novak had gotten with Roger lately. Would they be part of that “weird bunch” that Andy laughed at?
“Two lemonades for Murray,” the barkeep announced over the murmured voices of the room. Novak went to fetch the drinks, trying not to be mad at Andy, especially since his friend was buying his drink. It seems they close your tab in the lounge once you’ve been eliminated from the tournament for over a week.
“And tea for Federer,” the man announced, placing a kettle, two ceramic cups and matching saucers on the counter. Novak fought the urge to take a look around the room for his boyfriend. Instead, he fiddled with the change in his pocket, dumping it slowly into the tip jar and waiting for Roger to join him at the bar. To his great surprise, a pretty blonde woman moseyed up to his side.
“Ouch, that’s hot,” she said, pulling her hand away from the kettle quickly and giving the barkeep a stern look that read ‘hey asshole, how ‘bout a warning next time?’ Amused, Novak offered to help her carry the various items to her table, almost forgetting about the name.
She recognized him instantly and a wide smile spread over her features. “Thanks so much, it’s just over there,” she said, pointing to a more secluded part of the room. Novak smiled and happily abandoned his own drinks to help with hers.
“Look who I found,” the woman said in a sing-song voice as they walked up to the table, Roger glancing up from his phone briefly. It took him a moment to catch on, his gaze snapping back up from phone to look over Novak, a smile forming. Roger looked around the room hesitantly before deciding it was safe to invite Nole to sit with them.
Novak was still a bit confused as to whom this woman was, but he slid into the booth beside Roger nonetheless. His boyfriend was giving the woman a disapproving look. “You said I could meet him,” she defended and Roger relented.
Roger leaned closer to Novak and wrapped a sly hand around his waist; just out of sight from the lounge’s other patrons. “Nole,” Roger started uncertainly, “this is my sister, Diana.”
Novak smiled brightly, reassuring the Swiss man. He understood why Roger was nervous, technically Novak was meeting his family, which was usually a major milestone in relationships. Novak was truly delighted to make her acquaintance, not only because Roger said she liked his tennis, but because she was one of the few people who knew about them and was apparently quite supportive.
“Nice to meet you,” Novak said politely. He hated himself a little for being so awkward in situations like this, but Diana didn’t seem to mind. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
Diana looked at her brother approvingly, like having the good sense to mention her was impressive. “Well, I’m sure I know more about you. Not only has my smitten brother filled me in on how this,” she gestured between them, “came to be, but I’ve read your Wikipedia page.”
Novak decided he liked her sense of humor. Diana didn’t really tell jokes, at least not the type with elaborate punch lines, but most of the things she said were humorous in a subtle way that just made her likable.
“Ahem,” came a loud voice in the distance. Novak’s back was to the noise so he ignored it, but he soon found the voice was trying to get his attention.
“The bartender wants you to go get your order,” Diana told him since she could see the man from her side of the booth.
“Oh, I guess I should be going then. Murray is probably wondering where I went,” Novak said, forcing himself to move. He’d hung around in London all week hoping to see Roger, and it turns out he only gets a lousy ten minutes?
“Well, it was nice to meet you Novak. I’m sure I’ll see you soon,” Diana said with a sly smile, and Novak looked at Roger quickly, wondering if he should be concerned.
“Will you be in town for awhile?” Roger asked hopefully.
“Yeah, I’m staying with Murray until the end of the week,” Novak said, realizing he probably shouldn’t have mentioned his Scottish friend. Roger seemed to back away from whatever he was going to say and Novak wondered if he should’ve asked Roger if it was alright for him to stay with Murray, even though he was crashing in the guest room. Novak didn’t know the rules on this sort of thing, but hoped he didn’t blow his chance.
“Okay,” Roger replied vaguely, not giving anything away. The barkeep cleared his throat again and Novak left, wishing he had just a few more minutes so they didn’t have to part on such awkwardness.
Murray accosted him the moment he sat down. “Who was that girl you wondered off with?”
“Oh, her. That was Federer’s sister. Apparently she’s a fan of mine and was desperate to meet me,” Novak said in a joking dramatic tone. He didn’t like the way it sounded, like he was making fun of them, but for the sake of keeping his cover, Novak let it go.
“Damn. Who knew he had a hot sister?” Murray said, straining to look around the corner where she was sitting.
“Yeah,” Novak agreed absentmindedly. He kept telling himself that when Roger won, he would surely get a phone call, or at least be invited over for a night cap. If he was really lucky, Novak might be invited to the celebration party. Maybe that’s what Diana meant by she’d see him soon…
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Novak was more shocked than anybody when Roger lost. He’d seen it happen before, even been the cause of a couple of losses, but never here. If there was one thing about the tennis tour Novak knew it was Roger Federer is unbeatable at Wimbledon, and yet, he just lost.
Novak was watching from the comforts of the hotel bar, not wanting Andy to catch him obsessively watching a match that should mean nothing to him. The coverage was about half an hour behind so the television station could edit out any streakers or glitches before the worldwide broadcast, but Novak felt the moment it happened. The score on the screen read six-all, and since it was the final set they weren’t playing a tie-breaker, but Novak just knew. He had this sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach, like something in the world had gone terribly wrong. For the first time that evening, Novak ordered a real drink, needing something to calm his nerves.
“Hey there,” Novak heard a woman’s voice behind him. He didn’t turn immediately, figuring it was just some woman trying to hit on him. She tried again. “Not you too. I just left Rogi downer in his room to ‘sleep it off. ’ And by that I mean cry like a baby into his monogrammed pillow.”
Novak smiled, despite his bad mood, turning to face Diana. “That bad?” he asked, not sure he wanted to hear the answer. Just the thought of Roger hurting like that made his heart hurt.
“He’s being horribly unpleasant,” Diana answered. Novak knew she was feeling the disconnect. It was hard for a normal person to imagine what it felt like to lose an important match. It was devastating for a player, especially once they’ve tasted victory, but to everyone else, it’s just a game. “He actually yelled at Mirka, kicked her out of his room and told her never to come in without asking again. Definitely the highlight of my week,” Diana admitted amusedly. “Well, maybe tied with meeting you,” she added, ruffling his hair in a sisterly way that reminded him of Ana.
“So he’s not really up to seeing anyone right now?” Novak asked carefully, trying to hide his disappointment. He didn’t want Roger to be alone in a moment like this; the pain would just overwhelm him. Even if Novak didn’t go to Roger’s room, he’d already decided to stick around the hotel until he could see him. It’s not like he could sleep knowing Roger was hurting so badly.
“I think he just doesn’t want to see her, not exactly uplifting, is she?” Diana asked and Novak didn’t dare answer. He may not like Mirka much, but he knew enough to fear her, especially if she ever found out he was dating her boyfriend. “I’m sure he’d like to see you,” she said in an uncharacteristically soft voice. Novak nodded, but didn’t entirely believe her. “Listen, you get what he’s going through, right? You’ve lost epic matches before.”
“Never on this scale though,” Novak admitted. “This is his tournament, has been for years. I can’t even imagine…”
“Maybe not. But just being there counts for something, right?” Diana said, sliding a couple pounds across the counter to the bartender for her drink and setting a keycard by his hand. The bartender was looking from the key to him, obviously assuming she was making a pass at him. Novak wanted to laugh at the man’s stupidity, but was thankful the bartender hadn’t been listening in on their conversation.
Novak called Andy as soon as he left the bar, warning his friend that he wouldn’t be returning to the flat that night.
“I thought you went for a walk? You better not have gone clubbing without me Nole,” Andy teased.
“I did go for a walk. And then I stopped at a bar…” Novak trailed off, wondering where to go from there. He already felt bad about lying to his best friend, how much more could he get away with?
“You just went into a pub and found a girl? How come things like that always happen to you mate? Oh well, see you tomorrow then,” Murray said. Novak just let him fill in the gaps; it made him feel less guilty, especially considering how easily the lies have been slipping off his tongue to Murray these last few months. He knew Andy deserved better from someone he considered to be a close friend, but Novak didn’t have much of a choice.
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Roger had been lying in bed for nearly an hour now, his feelings alternating between shame and despair, crying through both. He always was a crying man. The good, the bad, and the devastating, Roger always had tears to shed. But right now, his tears were draining him; he couldn’t even muster up the strength to drink away his pain. His skin was tender from the scalding shower he forced himself into, hoping he could scrub away the awful stench of defeat. His muscles ached underneath the sensitive skin from the four hour final and the two weeks of matches before it. So he just lay there, wallowing in his pain.
Roger felt like he’d lost an old friend, one that had been his constant companion for many years and was suddenly ripped away from him. No matter what happened, Roger still had Wimbledon. Now he had nothing. He had been Wimbledon’s greatest champion for so long; Roger didn’t even know what he was without the British slam title. Roger was exhausted, but knew sleep was far away. There is something pathetic about crying yourself to sleep and Roger was desperate to avoid it, otherwise he might lose the last shred of dignity he had left. So he decided to stay awake until he didn’t feel like crying anymore.
The worst part was, Roger had only thought of his own personal distress, he’d yet to consider the backlash of tennis fans everywhere. No longer could he be considered among the greatest tennis players of all time. Now that Nadal had dethroned Roger on his own turf, he has something to prove. Roger dreaded the news stories and headlines that would appear in the next few days, he’s never been able to deal with criticism all that well.
Roger heard the beep of the keypad and the opening of the door that followed. Anger swelled in him as he prepared for another confrontation with Mirka. He was shocked out of his rage by the male figure that appeared in the doorway, shadowed by the limited lighting. It was clear Novak didn’t know what to do with Roger in such a mood, his expression read of uncertainty, but his presence alone banished all thoughts of self-harm, which is what scared him most.
The look in Novak’s eyes was more serious than Roger had ever seen, and he knew then that Novak understood the severity of the situation, understood his pain. There were no jokes on his tongue, nor words of wisdom this time, they both knew there were no words to make this right.
Novak moved around the bed and disappeared from Roger’s view as he stared intently at the sliver of light peeking through the bathroom door and hugging a pillow with a strangulating grip. There was rustling behind him, but Roger didn’t turn to face his boyfriend. He heard a belt buckle fall against the ground and assumed Novak was undressing, or at least shedding his jeans. Roger wasn’t sure what to think, surely Novak knew he wouldn’t be up for much tonight, but that didn’t keep him from flinching when the bed dipped down behind him and a warm hand covered his shoulder.
Roger didn’t turn, or acknowledge the Serb’s presence in any way. He couldn’t face Novak like this, with puffy red eyes and tear streaks down his face from the constant flow of tears that had been continuously flowing since he left the stadium. With one soft click the room was flooded with darkness; the only source of dim lighting to the room had been the bedside lamp on Novak’s side. The dark felt safe, like a barrier was created between him and all his problems. Roger knew it would be much more threatening if he were alone, but for now it was a positive force. Novak climbed under the covers that was shielding Roger from the world and huddled up close behind him.
“I’ll stay if you want me to,” Novak whispered to him and Roger managed a weak nod in response, hoping the movement wouldn’t be lost in the darkness, he didn’t trust his voice right now.
Novak’s heat was tempting, like a comfort blanket after a day out in the cold. Roger rolled over quite suddenly and hugged the Serb tightly around the chest, grateful the darkness drowned out the sight of him crying. Novak must have felt the hot tears soaking through his t-shirt, but he never loosened his grip on the Swiss man. Novak’s hand traced over his back in that calmingly familiar way and for the first time since he lost, Roger felt okay.
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Diana brought bagels and coffee for them the next morning, which was actually more like noon. She asked how he felt the day after the worst day of his life and Roger was surprised to find himself inwardly arguing that it hadn’t been that bad. Roger no longer felt devastated, and knew that somehow he would recover his career. He couldn’t deny still feeling horribly disappointed and majorly angry at himself, but considering the situation, those emotions seemed pretty reasonable. Diana wore a knowing look that reminded Roger of their younger days when, as the oldest, she always knew something he didn’t know. Diana didn’t seem nearly as surprised by his quick recovery; it was almost as if she were expecting him to be fine the next day.
“Oh?” she commented curiously, asking what made the big change. Roger looked toward the bathroom door unconsciously, thinking of the Serb who was showering within. He thought of how perfect it felt waking up in Novak’s arms and noticed this was the first time they had intentionally slept together without doing anything sexual. Roger knew a new page had been turned in their relationship, like an onion slowly revealing its layers. A year ago they were merely acquaintances who occasionally shared a court. Then they were friends, good friends, but completely secretive, which was a thrill of its own. After that came the sexual tension that gradually built between them, but now, there is a feeling that Roger can’t quite describe, a new level of closeness he couldn’t imagine sharing with anyone else. From the moment they woke up that morning and Novak “the Djoker” showed no intention of acknowledging that just hours ago Roger was a blubbering mess sobbing into his shoulder pathetically, Roger knew there was something very special about Novak Djokovic.
Roger had many friends in his success, always there for the celebration party or when a reporter comes asking around. It doesn’t take much to celebrate a winner, but for the first time in his life, Roger had been caught in a moment of weakness, arguably his greatest moment of weakness and he didn’t have to feel ashamed. Mirka hated seeing the softer side of him. She had all these crazy conceptions of what a man should be and crying over a match didn’t seem to fit into that picture. But if Novak didn’t think it was immature and pathetic, then why should he?
“I know he’s in there,” Diana said suddenly and only then did Roger realize he’d been staring mindlessly at the bathroom door. “I was the one that gave him your key.”
“What? You made him come over here? Please tell me you did not go track him down and make him come see me.” Here Roger was thinking Novak had made some brilliantly romantic gesture out of…strong attachment, but it didn’t seem quite so glitzy knowing Diana forced him into it.
“I didn’t make him come; I just gave him the opportunity. And I didn’t have to look far for him; the kid was down in the hotel bar, practically sober and looking nearly as beaten up as you. It’s like he was asking for an invitation,” she replied innocently, settling his nerves.
Roger breathed a sigh of relief, hoping that his sister’s meddling wasn’t terribly obvious, but happy with the results nonetheless. Diana was capable of some pretty convincing psychobabble and was quite capable of tricking anyone into anything, but maybe if Novak was hanging around a hotel he’d checked out of over a week ago he was asking for it a little. “Been in there awhile, hasn’t he?” Roger asked, nodding toward the door. The shower had been running for what must’ve been nearly an hour, but maybe his sense of time was messed up since he was being bugged about his love life.
“Maybe he’s waiting for someone to join him,” Diana said with a suggestively arched brow. Roger blushed as his mind roamed to Novak in the shower, a look of surprise on his face as Roger glided in smoothly, joining him under the stream of water.
Roger turned to Diana with a look that clearly said “leave now.”
“Well I’ve got to get back to Jim. I left him packing up our bags and he always seems to make a mess of it,” she said casually, slowly gathering her things to leave. “For goodness sake don’t make the boy wash his own hair, get in there. I can let myself out.”
“Okay,” Roger said, obviously waiting for such an answer. Diana could see the heat in his eyes as he followed his lover into the bathroom. She scurried out before they could start anything, just being on the same floor when Roger was up to such business felt a bit too Freudian. No matter how much she loves her brother, and the guy he’s dating, Diana did not need to hear them fucking in the shower.
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When Enemies Attract