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“No, Aleksandr, that’s not what I’m trying to- ugh.” Cian groans. This is harder than he’d anticipated, and he’d prepared himself for a lot, mind you. “Then what is it.” Aleks doesn’t even pose it as a question, it’s always a demand with him. And reading the room is not part of his skill set because why is he talking so loud when Cian is obviously whispering? Cian will never understand the Russian, and he is not even sure he wants to. Except for the times he does, but those are rare- and he should really keep his mind to the matter. He’s got important questions to ask Vlasov. “Keep your voice down, would you.” Cian sighs and presses the phone closer to his face, hoping the light won’t wake Atilla “Okay, listen, do you sometimes get this feeling-”“No.” Aleks doesn’t even let him end the sentence before he gruffly cuts him off and Cian considers hanging up. Talking with Aleksandr is quite a feat, but Cian’s questions are too pressing to ignore. And of all the people he knows, only Aleksandr Vlasov would tell him the truth unashamedly. “Yes. So do you ever get the feeling that you can’t live up to the expectations people have of you?” Cian rushes the sentence out and blows out a breath of relief when he’s done. It’s been lying heavy in his stomach for months. “You do know there are people who get paid to answer these questions, right?” Aleks nonsensically answers him and Cian rolls his eyes. “Yet, I am asking you, Aleksandr.” He adds his full name, if only to underline that the question he’s asked is a serious one and Aleks might give him a serious answer. “Stupid move.” And then the silence rings between the two phones until Cian mind unhelpfully adds ‘no such luck’. He realizes he needs to change tack and grinds his mind but to no avail. He’s been too long gone from Bora, and all the tactics his teammates and he used to make Vlasov talk have long since evaporated from his knowledge. His heart beats uncomfortably hard against his chest. Aleks sighs and something rustles on the other side. But Cian won’t hang up, not when it has cost him all the courage in the world to call him in the first place. So he waits, in the darkness of the room, while his shoulder is starting to sting from resting his whole body weight upon it. “You made it difficult for yourself last year before you left.” Aleks’ voice is hard and curls around the silence like barbed wire. Cian can only partially agree and feels a wave of defending claims rise up his throat.“You made it difficult for me to stay last year.” He bites back and leaves it at that. Aleksandr can make of it what he wants, but Cian won’t let himself be made fun of like last year. He hears Aleks sigh and somewhere he’s glad he’s getting a proper reaction from the Russian. “It was never personal, Cian.” Some things were and others weren’t, but it doesn’t make them hurt less. He says nothing as he mulls over last year’s events. Teammates poking fun at him for his dedication to the details, Vlasov putting in that little extra power just to surpass Cian in the gc. “It’s a rider's instinct to get the best possible achievement.” Aleks states simply and it’s the only thing close to an explanation Cian will ever get. He can be cruel now and remind him that, if there was ever a chance Cian would have gotten leadership over Vlasov and the latter might have had to ride for him, that chance has become reality with Roglic. And he’ll ride for the Slovenian until he has won the Tour de France or retires. Cian would’ve been the better choice. He refuses to answer him. Once Aleks is speaking, Cian has learned to shut up, not daring to interrupt the stream of words that might come. “Everyone has felt like that, to answer your question.” And now it’s Cian’s turn to sigh “Vlasov I’ve called you because you are the only one who might give me a plain answer instead of something comforting. Tell me the truth or hang up.” It’s a gamble but when Aleksandr doesn’t end the call, Cian hangs on tighter to that sliver of hope.“Cian, you’re still a kid and that sickness from the Giro might still be lingering. Or something else is wrong. Visma will figure it out like they figure everything out, you can be sure of that. And if it just turns out you’re just not good enough, you’ll have to prove yourself worthy to be a good domestique. Maybe you’ll do a Kuss one day.” There it is, Cian thinks, every panicked muddled thought in his head voiced in a couple of clear sentences. Visma has bought him and caused a storm with it, and now they can’t even be sure he was a good investment. Something is wrong, or Cian dearly hopes so because he doesn’t know for how long his panicked face will make others feel bad for him. He dreads the day they’ll just get annoyed. “You can’t force your body to perform at the highest level if something’s wrong. Feeling guilty for not delivering will not help you. You can only try.” Cian thinks he detects some hint of emotion in the voice on the other side, a waver in the static line. He wonders how he hadn’t thought of labeling his feelings as simple guilt. Guilt for not delivering, for being the annoying smiley kid teammate, for not living up to the expectations. And his throat restricts at all the things he could have done differently; when he could’ve been reserved and polite when he was babbling away, when he could’ve kept everything reserved during that transfer instead of making a mess.Before he knows it, he buries his face in his pillow to try and stop the tears from leaking. He almost forgets to say goodbye to Vlasov when he wants to hang up until another voice sounds through the phone. “Cian, until you actively try to betray another teammate in a race, Visma won’t let you go without properly checking what’s wrong. No one will let you.” Primoz sounds through the phone in that peculiar voice of his, sounding half mocking but serious at the same time.“And I can know.” The Slovene ads before Aleksandr is back “Stop crying, Cian. You’ve got nothing to cry for unless you have won or someone is dead. All the rest you best meet with your head held high. Goodnight.” Cian feels better when he softly laughs at that and silently thanks the closed line. It's not much, but it's enough for now.