"Jus, you didn't fall in love with him on the condition he'd love you back." Eric, When Words Fail to Come by Sasha Janre

(Renberg POV)

Thank you, Tommy Salo.

Thank you for being irresistably hot. Thank you for the lust factor you provided to the Swedish hockey team.

Thank you for being such an asshole. Thanks for interfering in my life; my relationship.

Thanks for letting in that late Belarus goal. You know, the one from just outside the blue line? Yeah, I'm thinking you remember that one.

And no, I'm not being facetious.

Thank you, Tommy Salo.

//

Lying next to Mikael, I'm crying while he pets the back of my neck. Sometimes you just need a good cry-a release. It's been one hell of a week, all culminating into a conversation that's been brewing for a long time.

But that's not why I'm crying. We just lost to Belarus. I didn't think it was possible. After all, we're Sweden. We're three and o. Belarus is…they weren't even supposed to be here. They were tromped by all the other big name teams, 8-nothing, 6-nothing. This was supposed to be our gift, our reward, for playing so well-for going unbeaten. An easy win over a small team. But instead…

This wasn't supposed to happen. A break up with Mikael, I expected. A loss to Belarus-never.

Yet, here I am, in my room crying over a Belarus loss. And Mikael's right by my side, comforting me. Go figure.

The tears stop and so does the petting. I squeeze his hand and, reassuringly, he squeezes back. There are so many things he could say. "Well, you guys should have come out in the first with more fire," or "Maybe we shouldn't have taken them so lightly," or even, "It was just a fluke. Like that goal Tommy let in." He could go on about how great a tournament we played up until that point, about how a lot of countries didn't even make it that far, about how at least the women's team was still in it. He could sympathize, he could berate, he could yell, scream, whisper, smile, cry…any number of things.

But instead he remains quiet. And it's his silence that comforts me. His presence, the beating of his heart, and his even rhythmic breathing. I sigh and think about the night before.

How could I have been so stupid? So blind? So caught up in myself? Tommy opened my eyes.

"I enjoy this the most. Just lying here in silence."

I smile against the fabric of his shirt. "Me too. But you do realize you just broke the silence, don't you?" I glance up to see him grin.

"Yeah." We settle back into the silence and through the wall I can hear the muffled sounds of a television.

My thoughts return to our conversation.

"Then what are you asking for?"

"Forgiveness."

Such a simple way to begin it. Tommy left to give us privacy. I remember Mikael sitting on the foot of the bed and glancing in the mirror. We both looked so broken, so lost, and I remember thinking that this isn't what being with someone is supposed to be about.

"I need you."

"I love you."

"I'm sorry."

Hushed tones and words filled the room. I was so scared to let him see me like that-vulnerable and weak, naked almost. I wasn't the older, wiser guide leading the way. I was just as young as he, and utterly confused as to what was going to happen next. I always thought of myself as knowing more, understanding more, just because I had had so much more time to come to terms with who I was-what my sexuality was. I had gone out with other men before, had somewhat long term relationships with them.

But I had forgotten that what I had with Mikael was new. That like him, I had never experienced anything like this before. Somewhere along the line I had just lumped him into a category. "Well, if so-and-so was like this, so is Mikael, because I'm going out with him and he's gay, just like so-and-so." I just assumed he'd be like the others. I didn't count on falling in love with him, or he falling in love with me.

It had never happened before, to him or to me, and suddenly I was at a loss.

What was supposed to happen next?

So you assume the worst. You assume he's going to leave you. You assume he doesn't love you. And all of a sudden all these assumptions consume your life. And you forget to see past them; you forget he isn't some relationship you've been through before. You forget he's someone new, this relationship is new, and that you love him. All you see are the what-ifs or maybes, and then he kisses someone else four months down the line and you convince yourself that everything you ever thought about him and your relationship was true.

Even if it isn't.

And it finally takes some guy named Tommy Salo to convince you otherwise.

"I love you, Mikael."

"I love you, too." A pause. "I mean it. I'm not just trying to fill the silence. I don't love you just because you love me."

"And I didn't fall in love with you on the condition you'd love me back."

And that's when you have your big old revelation.

Mikael flips on the t.v. and winces as he sees they're showing the replay of the Belarus winning goal. He quickly flips it back off. I touch his wrist. "No, put it back on. The U.S. game is on next."

He raises his eyebrow at me, but obliges. A few minutes later, he's lost in the flurry of activity on the screen.

Staring at him, I wonder why it took me so long to realize that. I had told Tommy that I was always going to be there for Mikael. I loved him, so it was a "no matter what."

"Because one day he won't."

"And maybe today's that day."

Tommy was right. It didn't hurt any less. If anything more, knowing that I'd been so caught up in losing him tomorrow, that I couldn't enjoy what we had today.

So the two of us decided we weren't going to hold back anymore. No more walls, no more jealous rants…no more stupid defense mechanisms. We loved each other; we love each other. One day we won't, perhaps. But I'm not going to dwell on maybes and tomorrows.

And I owe my new outlook on life to Tommy Salo.

"I kissed Tommy."

"I know."

"But I don't know why I did it."

"That's okay."

"Is it?"

A sigh. "For today."

"And tomorrow?"

"I don't care about tomorrow."

"Good save, good save," Mikael murmurs to himself. "Richter's a hell of a goalie."

"You are too," I reply.

He smiles. "Intermission's in five minutes. Want to go get some food?"

"Sure."

"You're kissing Tommy doesn't change anything for me, Mikael. I still love you."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you love me?"

"I don't know. I just do." A few tears slip from his eyes and he latches on to my waist, pulling my shirt, and myself, closer. He leans his head against my stomach.

"I don't know why I kissed Tommy." I smooth down his hair. "I don't know if I was angry with you or if…" I can feel it in the air-the end is almost palpable. "But I know I still love you."

"You think Germany will upset the United States?"

"I don't know, Mikael. Anything's possible." I sit up. "Let's go get that lunch."

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