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When Enemies Attract	By : tennisstar Category: Individual Celebrities > Athlete/Sports Misc Views: 3351 -:- 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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A/N: The interviews in this chapter are real and will be cited at the end in another author's note. They aren't mine and I don't claim them, but I do like to use them because it adds some realism to the story.
Chapter 5
Roger found himself on the losing end of a semifinals match for the second tournament in a row. This time losing to a less respectable player, someone he typically beat with ease. It came down to his back and the twinge of pain he felt each time he served, volleyed, hit a forehand, hit a backhand, and hurt worst when he dared hit an overhead in the third game. After that he had to call a trainer, something he almost never did, especially in smaller tournaments. He used the full injury time-out, having his back rubbed with pain creams and the muscles relaxed...a little bit. It proved not to be enough. Sure Federer has a winning record against Mardy Fish, a former top twenty player who has recently sunk in the ranks, but he is competent and that is all it took today to beat him. The press wasn’t nearly as hard on him this time or maybe there were just less of them since it wasn’t a Slam. Pacific Life doesn’t get nearly as much coverage. Roger almost considered sending Mirka or his publicist to answer questions, but after a hot shower he was feeling better and wanted to show them that he was just as graceful a loser as a winner. Roger had at least finished out his match rather than withdrawing or retiring, which was always disappointing for players and fans alike.
The press conference was quick and painless, apart from a few awkward questions that he had to weave his way around.
Q: Was it as surprising for you as it was for us?
RF: Well, I guess so. I don't know how much it is for you guys.
Q: Very.
RF: I've had a great record against him, you know, always had sort of controlled matches against him, but today was different. He came out playing very, very well.
Q: Are you well, Roger?
RF: I'm well, yeah. How are you?
Roger knew they were referring to his spout with food poisoning prior to the Aussie Open, and perhaps assuming his back injury was somehow related, but he refused to be that guy who blames his losses on silly things like that, even if it was a major factor.
Q: Can there be a situation almost where your match sharpness, when you miss a match, say perhaps you needed the match against Haas?
RF: I was a little bit deflated yesterday. I was ready to play against Tommy. I think it would have really given me great rhythm if I were to win against him and come into have met him and come into the semis today.
Q: Will you go right to Miami?
RF: Pretty much, yeah. Haven't booked my ticket yet. Wasn't planning on leaving today, but we'll see now.
Roger had planned to stay until the end of course, winning the tournament. His hotel was booked that way, as was his plane ticket, though he wouldn’t discuss it here. It was never a good idea to let the press know your travel plans, they always seem to turn up there at a really bad time.
Q: When did you find out Tommy was out? Was it in the morning early?
RF: Around noon, maybe. Yeah, I mean, just sort of waking up and seeing, feeling good, and that's when I got the news, basically.
Q: What you did you do for the rest of the day since you didn't have the match yesterday?
RF: Well, I came over to practice. Not much.
He lied, something that seemed to be catching on with him a lot lately. It was a necessary lie, he couldn’t exactly tell them that he watched the other match without them asking where he was sitting and him saying in the players’ lounge because they obviously would’ve taken pictures of him if he were in the crowd and them realizing that every other second Novak was looking up at him and then their precious little secret would be blown.
Q: What are your thoughts about the final tomorrow between with Fish against Djokovic?
RF: Sure, interesting match, you know. I mean, Novak also having outstanding performance against Rafa today, you know. Also is probably comfortable in the scoring line, so it should be entertaining.
Roger fought hard to suppress the urge to yell out go Novak or something equally out of character and obnoxious. Once again the young Serb was in the position to vindicate his loss, and win like he wasn’t able to.
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Novak was at his own press conference when he heard the news of Federer’s loss. It was sudden, in question form, asking how he felt about it. The match wasn’t yet finished but it was close enough that all Mardy had to do was win a game. Novak felt his heart skip a beat when he heard of Roger’s quarterfinals downfall, wondering instantly how and why it happened.
Q: This is a maybe/if question: Have you played Mardy Fish before, and how have you done?
ND: US Open 2006.
Q: You beat him?
ND: Yes. It was a really tough match.
Novak inwardly shook at the question, knowing they wouldn’t ask unless it was almost sure that Fish would be his opponent. Inwardly distressed, Novak continued answering the unpleasant questions.
Q: It's 5-1 in the second. Does that surprise you?
ND: It does a little bit. You know, I think his style of the game suits to Roger, but obviously Roger is not playing well today for whatever reason. But, of course, you can't play always well. I think for Roger it is not so good that he didn't play quarterfinals and he didn't have a tough match. You know, Fish is ready for it. He's obviously deserving it. You know, he plays better.
Novak hardly even knew what he said. It surprised him more than a little bit. He had been expecting Roger to own this tournament, possibly even beat him. How could he lose?
Q: Let's say Fish does close it out. Would you feel a bit more confident playing Mardy Fish than -- not saying you wouldn't feel confident playing Roger, but more confident play Fish than playing Roger?
ND: Well, probably if you play No. 1 player of the world in the finals, in the finals of any tournament, I think it's much tougher than to play against somebody who has not been in so many finals of the major events.
Q: How would you qualify your relationship with Roger Federer at this point?
Woah. That question hit Novak like a ton of bricks. It was the same question he asked himself almost daily these past few weeks. He wasn’t even sure himself and here they demanding an answer on something they knew nothing about. It was an innocent question, one he’s gotten many times before, but it was different now. He couldn’t tell them that his heart races every time he hears his phone buzz, hoping it is Roger with his clever phrases and smiley faces. He couldn’t tell them that he nearly lost the ability to breathe when he was standing near Roger in the locker room. He couldn’t explain the way he melted after each point with Wawrinka, every time he reminded himself that the number one player in the world was there watching him. He could hardly admit these things to himself, how the hell did these people expect him to define them?
ND: Well, we never had any problems. I mean, we are not, I don't know, friends. We don't have such a great friendship, but, of course, I respect his results and him as a sportist, so all credit to that.”
It was simple and to the point, exactly what they wanted to hear. It was also a lie, but a lie was better than telling too much of the truth. It had started off being a secret because that was fun, their little joke on everybody, but something had changed in the last week, making it necessary to hide. It was getting too personal to let others see.
Novak didn’t dare text Roger after his loss. He hadn’t learned to deal with that side of Roger yet. It was one thing to have beaten the man himself, and drunkenly wander up to his room to apologize, but when it was somebody else who did the beating, someone that Novak would be playing the very next day, it was different. If he was being honest with himself, Novak wanted to beg Roger to come to his match the next day, but he couldn’t do it, not when his pride was at stake. Sure Roger had seen the less confident (arrogant) side of him briefly, but Novak wasn’t comfortable enough being that vulnerable, especially with the man he was growing to respect so much.
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“Did you hear what that little shit said about you?” Allison spat angrily, knowing Roger hadn’t heard at all what he said. She was a publicist, the Spin Doctor as they liked to call her, always spinning things to make Roger look good. Apparently this was something she couldn’t spin. “We work so hard to show Roger as the nicest guy on tour and then this prick won’t even call them friends.”
“I thought I was the nicest guy on tour,” Roger said earnestly, wondering why that image needs to be molded of him. It’s not far from the truth. Roger didn’t even know who she was complaining about until she tossed her phone over, revealing a video of Novak doing a press conference. His words cut Roger like a knife to the heart. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t true, or that him and Novak had planned it this way. All that mattered is that Roger felt sick to his stomach when he heard they way Novak bashed him. It was subtle and polite, but wicked and punishing too. He spoke with coldness that Roger couldn’t imagine the Serb feeling toward him, but he did it so well. Was it a lie? Or was Federer getting played?
“He’s right, Allison. We are not friends,” Roger said after composing himself.
“It’s the way he said it. Like he doesn’t even want to be,” she replied. It’s the same thing he was telling himself, but at least Roger had the knowledge that Novak said he’d be less than nice to Federer in the press. Roger had actually encouraged him to do so. It was gut-wrenching, not knowing what to believe. The hardest part was that Novak hadn’t texted him yet, not out of worry or even pity. He was silent.
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Roger decided to stay in town and honor his commitment to the hotel and airport. They probably wouldn’t have minded much if he switched things around, but it was more trouble than convenience. There was something else plaguing Roger’s mind now, begging him to stay until it is resolved. Ever since he saw that clip of Novak, and their communication had abruptly ended, he needed to know where they stood. It was a difficult thing for Roger, to talk about feelings and where relationships were going. That is part of the reason he is still with Mirka, because he doesn’t know how not to be anymore.
The morning after the semifinals day, Roger awoke with a purpose. He refused to mope around in his hotel room all day, like he had seriously considered doing yesterday. Roger’s plan was to go to the finals match and find a way to talk to Novak. As soon as he got out of the shower there was a knock on his door. It was Mirka, asking him to join her for another day of sightseeing. Roger said he wasn’t up for doing much of anything, trying his best to sound horribly disappointed in himself and mildly depressed, which wasn’t exactly inaccurate. She accepted his story, like she always did and went off on her own. When Roger was sure Mirka had gone, he snuck out and took a cab to the stadium. He used his player’s pass to get into the lounge, which was almost empty at this point in the tournament. Those left were the women finalists and doubles players, whose finals matches weren’t until later that day. Roger ordered a drink and some food, casually setting up an area overlooking court one, like he had done for the quarterfinal match. This time he brought a book to make him look less suspicious, like he wasn’t stalking Djokovic, not that anyone there was looking much.
It was another easy win for Novak, this time dropping a set after being on serve throughout it. The win Roger had expected, but he didn’t think Novak would still be sending those lingering glances up to the player’s lounge after points. It was more dangerous now, since he was one of the few players in the room and if the servers wanted to they could tell the commentators all about him being there. Roger was relieved to see Ana Ivanovic in the room, a womens finalist no doubt, and most importantly, Novak’s friend and compatriot. She seemed completely unaware that there was a match going on, let alone Novak’s, but her presence calmed the Swiss man. If any questions came up, she was their scapegoat. Not that Roger even knew if he and Novak were on the same team anymore. It was silly to worry over the friendship of a man Roger formerly despised. If he was ever perfectly honest with the reporters, Roger would have said worse things about the Serb in the past than the man said about him yesterday; but Roger had grown fond of the younger player, taken him under his wing. Suddenly Novak Djokovic mattered to Federer and he was determined to figure out if that was a mistake.
Roger dug through his stuff for his cell phone, locating Novak’s number and texting him as casually as a man so disheveled could, “What an excellent match to watch live. ;)” Roger hoped that Novak saw it soon, before he left for the hotel at least and understood it meant. To his delight, Roger saw Novak rummaging through his large tennis bag, emerging with something quite small and black. It was his phone and from what Roger could tell, he was happy to see the message. Quickly, he wrote back, “You’re here! My my, what did I do to deserve such an honor?” It was a joke and Federer knew instantly that they were okay. Novak was chuckling to himself, obviously very satisfied with his clever response. It was a dangerous move, pulling out his phone on court and reacting to its contents. The cameras were focused in on him closely, not close enough to read his messages, but for everybody to know exactly what he is doing. The commentators were abuzz with suggestions ranging from Novak texting one of his rumored girlfriends to his parents who had stayed in Serbia with his siblings. Roger smiled, listening intently to the TV at the drink bar, listing off all the possibilities of who the new champion was texting so animatedly, none of them guessing the current number one player in the world.
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Pretty much the moment the tournament ended, Roger texted him, following their preset rules exactly. There was a brilliant fluttery feeling that filled his stomach as he read the words. Roger was here. Not by accident or because of a cancelled match. Roger was here to see him, to support him. If he wasn’t so tired, Novak would actually consider the option his mind was shouting at him, to run up ten flights of stairs to where Federer was probably sitting and give him a big hug. Instead he looked up to the lounge, like he had been doing unconsciously throughout the match, and smiled genuinely. He texted back quickly, before his mind became too exhausted for clever words. The reply didn’t come back as fast as he had hoped, leaving him to wonder if Federer was on the move, walking away to the parking lot or leaving in a cab already. The Serb readied himself for the trophy ceremony, anxious to get it over with, but not wanting to rush through it and be disrespectful. He was still trying to build a fan base, a difficult task for someone thought to be both a promising player and an asshole.
The ceremony was a blur, but the fans were cheering and the men in suits were still smiling, meaning he had not seriously offended either group. It was progress from the Australian Open, where nearly a fourth of the fans were still against him after the finals match. It wasn’t so much that they disliked him, they just liked Tsonga better. Tennis fans love upsets and the story of an underdog conquering all, tennis players on the other hand hated things like that, or at least the top players did. Novak didn’t get to see Roger’s reply until he was in the locker room, about to jump in the shower before the interview session. As the loser, Mardy had to go first and he chose to go without showering, leaving the entire locker room open to Novak. He sat on the bench half dressed, missing strange items like his left shoe and sock, undershirt and sweatbands. It wasn’t a logical procedure of undressing, but he was busy contemplating what next to say to Roger’s “Well I thought if I couldn’t win this tournament, then you should.”
He had paused when he read that, suddenly overwhelmed with pride. Other than selfishly wanting to win himself, Novak was Roger’s second choice. The Serb sat on the bench, wondering when he had surpassed Rafa as Roger’s right hand friend, because surely that is what it meant. He didn’t want to relay this through a message, or even acknowledge that interpretation. It could just be something he said, to fill space, some meaningless message to keep the conversation going. As Novak thought this his throat burned from holding back tears that were threatening to form. Would Roger be so cruel? No, Novak told himself, trusting the image of the kind, respectable man in his head and letting his meltdown go down the conveniently located drain beneath him.
“What are your plans tonight? Do you want to celebrate with me?” Novak texted hopefully, opting for a change of subject rather than an awkward segue into what he really wanted to know.
Roger answered when he got back to his room, where he watched Novak’s interview on TV. Roger might’ve turned him down, like he usually would to anyone else who asked, but he could see the hope written on Novak’s face as he dodged uncomfortable questions and looked over to his phone as if the device could help him. He found himself unable to shatter that hope and texted quickly, “Sure thing. What were you thinking of doing?” The reaction was immediate. The Serb’s phone was now on silent, but the blue background lighting was flashing visibly, tipping both Novak and press off to his incoming message. Novak visibly relaxed, successfully avoiding questions regarding his phone activity on court and right then. He claimed it was his family he was talking to, a decent story considering it may be sweet but it is also completely uninteresting to the hawk-like reporters. The interview was quick. Novak said he played well and named a few things the other guy did right as well, leaving nearly ten minutes after he got Roger’s text.
“No big party. Murray and all the others left me :( I was thinking we could have a few beers and watch the football game,” Novak offered. He knew Roger liked to watch football, almost becoming a professional at that sport instead of tennis.
“Great, just don’t get as drunk as last time. You don’t want to have to go around making late night apologies :)” Roger joked, thinking back to the night their friendship began. Novak also looked back fondly, wondering how everything changed so much in less than a month.
“I promise I won’t. So 8pm? Room 316,” Novak sent, finally settling into his room after convincing his camp they could meet the next day rather than that night.
Roger was a bit surprised at the time Novak sent for him to show up. It was only three o’clock in the afternoon, what would the Serb be doing until then? There were football games on all day, so their meet up time didn’t really depend on that. As Roger laid down for a nap, setting his alarm to make sure he didn’t oversleep, he remembered the past two times they hung out, both times ending with Novak falling asleep. It was suddenly quite obvious what the younger man would be doing…sleeping.
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Novak ordered some beers and sandwiches from room service, having them sent up half an hour before Roger was due to arrive. It was better if the hotel employee didn’t see him and Roger in a hotel room together. The press always seemed to catch wind of things like that, who hangs out with whom and where. It wouldn’t look right for two known rivals to appear together anywhere, let alone somewhere so private. Novak wished that he had gotten a larger suite, one with a sitting room attached. It was always awkward to casually lay in bed with someone, something Novak had already discovered from their last meeting in a hotel room.
Roger arrived at eight o’ clock exactly, perfectly on time as always. The Spain versus Ireland game had just begun and they settled in quickly to watch. Several beers later they were laughing at every little thing, from a guy getting a soccer ball to the face, to the Geico gecko eating chips. Eventually the match ended, neither tennis star knowing which team won. Novak booed as American Football came on, his least favorite sport as well as most of Europe’s. Roger had grown accustom to it over the past few years, it was one of Tiger’s favorite things to watch and so he had seen quite a few games.
“It’s not so bad,” Roger said, slurring his words dramatically as he made a grab for the remote, which Novak was hoarding..
“It’s ‘orrible,” the Serb said, losing the ‘h’’ somehow. He rolled away from Roger to defend the remote, but the Swiss man reached around him to get a hold on it. They wrestled for it, both taking custody of the device briefly before the other yanked it away. Somewhere in the scuffle, the television turned off when the power button was accidentally pushed. It took them several minutes to realize this, but when they did Novak rolled off Roger and abandoned his remote-stealing efforts. His hand lingered on the chest of his friend, moving up and down unconsciously. Roger turned his head slightly to face, breathing heavily, and Novak reacted, closing the space between their lips. The kiss was soft and sudden, the Serb pulling away after just a few seconds. He would’ve felt guilty but the look in Roger’s eyes told him he didn’t need to. Novak planted another one on him, this one more insistent, longer and with a new confidence. When Novak pulled away he laid flat on his back, not looking over at Roger, who was also avoiding his eye. Their booze consumption quickly quelled them to sleep, leaving the awkward questions for the next morning.
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A/N: interviews from “quotes from http://www.tennis-x.com/story/2008-03-23/h.php”,“http://www.tennisnews.com/exclusive.php?pID=24140” Q1N “http://www.futuretennisstars.com/interview3693.html”
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When Enemies Attract