Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

January 18th, Tuesday, 9:am

Stefanos wakes up, ready to take on the day; he’s excited, to say the least, as the Australian open is his favourite slam and a great way to start the calendar. As usual, he gets ready and heads to have breakfast; he’s accompanied by his father and brother, who cheerfully speak to each other as Stefanos is deep in his thoughts.

The morning goes as one would expect; training, practice, coaching, finally the match. He wins the match in straight sets, and gives him extra confidence for the next one.

Stefanos goes to his room to finally rest for the day; he’s confident but he’s wary, the tournament has just started and it can unpredictably twist at any moment. He stares out the window, Melbourne looking enchanting as ever, and a faint smile forms on his face; Stefanos doesn’t let himself get excited, but the warm feeling in his chest says otherwise. It’s going to be a fun tournament. 

January 20th, Thursday, 9:am

Stefanos gets up, keen on his second match, and takes a final glance outside the window before leaving his room and starting his day. Stefanos’ routine during tournaments is simple as it is effective, and it helps him ground himself before every match. After his breakfast, he goes to practice, alongside his father and his brother, who chat with him and give him advice concerning his previous match so he can improve in the next one.

Stefanos gets through Sebastian Baez in four sets, dropping the second set, and he feels happy as he feels relieved; he’s still in the competition and he’s enjoying the matches, so his confidence is definitely up and thriving.

Stefanos finishes the day, in his room, as he watches some romcom that they are showing on the TV, a small self indulgent treat after two matches won.

January 22nd, Saturday, 9:am

Stefanos rolls out of bed, eager for the last match of this starting week in Melbourne. He would be lying if he said that he wasn’t feeling pressured, but after the third round, things start getting serious. He goes to get breakfast, pensive, and Petros quickly cheers him up with a silly joke; the day starts going better, family support getting Stefanos through it, and the match finally arrives.

He wins, again, in four sets, this time dropping the first set. He’s still confident, he’s still wary, but he’s taking things one victory at the time. His next encounter will be on Monday, so he has one day to rest and gather himself; he has the ability to do it, he just has to believe it.

January 24th, Monday, 9:am

Stefanos’ week starts with a match, a tough match against Taylor Fritz, but he’s composed. After breakfast, he takes some time to speak to his brother, tennis aside, to calm his nerves. Petros reads right through him and cheerfully chats with him; Apostolos, on the other hand, gives them both a disapproving look, one that says that Stefanos should be focusing, not avoiding the match.

His father is stern on him before his match; he has to win it, he can’t afford to lose against Fritz. He goes to the match, stoic, focused, but so does Taylor. Stefanos ends up winning in five sets; he underestimated Taylor, now he has to deal with his father telling him he could’ve won the match in straight sets, and his brother looking at him with pitiful eyes.

The match wasn’t what he wanted to be, but a victory is a victory nonetheless. Stefanos lets himself relax the second he gets to his room; it was a tough match and the next one seems to be equally as difficult, so resting is going to be  the most important part to get through the quarterfinal. He turns on the TV, and flips through the channels until he finds the least boring thing. The next match will be better , he thinks.

January 26th, Wednesday, 9:am

Stefanos rolls out of bed, a tingly sensation running through his body, one that he has been feeling for over a week now; he’s in the quarterfinals for the Australian Open, the happy slam, and he’s ready to take on the match. He goes get breakfast, this time Petros is not with them, so he has a shallow conversation with his father; Apostolos isn’t keen on having ‘distracting’ conversations before matches, only tennis related topics, so Stefanos sticks to asking him about Jannik. He gets some useful information, though he would’ve wanted a more uplifting conversation out of it. Stefanos already forgot the sour feeling left after the previous match– although his father keeps reminding him of it– and he’s ready to win this one.

He takes it in straight sets, and his confidence is, once again, high and untouched. He celebrates, a small dinner with Petros and Paula, and he finally takes a break from his father– and the tournament. Stefanos is more than happy to be in the semifinals, and he doesn’t really care who his next opponent is, because he knows he’ll defeat anyone who gets in his way.

January 28th, Friday, 9:am

Stefanos wakes up, one more time, ready to play. He doesn’t dare look at the draw, though his father will be reminding him during his breakfast, and gets dressed up to start the day. As predicted, Apostolos tells him about his opponent– a certain Daniil Medvedev– and he keeps up the unfaced facade in front of his family. Petros almost falls into it, but his father is convinced by it, so he keeps the conversation lighter. He’s glad to have a break before a tough match, especially since Stefanos tends to spiral and get in his own head, but he knows he can do it. Right?

Stefanos loses the match to Daniil, in four sets; he put up a fight in the first set, extending it to a tie break, then won the second one, but it all went downhill from then on. He leaves the stadium, thanking the Australian crowd for his support, and goes straight to his room. He showers, and completely forgets about his phone, because he knows he’ll find pitiful messages. He dresses in his pajamas, and glances outside the window; Melbourne, such a beautiful and cruel city.

January 30th, Sunday, 11:am

Stefanos decides to stay for the final, it’s the least he can do after getting so far, and he has a lazy day in his room. He gets his breakfast delivered to his room, and he still hasn’t changed out of his pajamas, but he doesn’t care, he’s still sorrowful about the loss. He spends his Sunday resting, watching trash TV and journaling, to keep him grounded and steady, though the bitter feelings seem to have settled in his heart. Stefanos can’t wait until the match is over and he can finally fly home and come back for the next tournament.

He decides to take a stroll and grab the camera, to capture the city which has loved him even when he lost. He takes alluring pictures– at least to his eyes– and he goes back to his room in time for the final. He turns on the TV, both players still warming up, and Stefanos calls the room service to have his dinner delivered.

The match is hectic, to say the least, and Nadal ends up taking the win in the fifth set, after having lost the first two. Medvedev looks defeated, as one would expect, and Rafa is all over the moon; Stefanos wants to pity Daniil, he almost wants to, but his childhood hero just won his 21st Grand Slam, so he’s nearly as excited as he is. Stefanos turns off the TV, all giddy, and decides he can finally put the Australian Open behind.

Chapter Text

January 18th, Tuesday, 9:am

Stefanos wakes up, ready to take on the day; he checks the day, and he’s sure it’s supposed to be January 31st. It must’ve all been a crazy dream, or a deja vu, so he gets ready to have breakfast. He’s sure all of this has happened already, and he’s almost certain what his father will tell him, but he continues the day as usual. He wins his first match, as he expected, and his celebration is rather underwhelming; he keeps it simple, as he’s confident he just lived through all of this. Stefanos relaxes in his room after the match, convincing himself it was all just a very lucid dream, and tomorrow will be a different day.

January 20th, Thursday, 9:am

Stefanos gets up, keen on his second match, but there’s still a feeling nagging him, knowing what he’s doing is just a replay of the previous week. He’s trying to put his thoughts as far as humanly possible, the tournament is the most important part of his day– or until it’s over at least– and he’s supposed to be focusing on the match. Apostolos picks up on his son’s lack of concentration, so he asks him.

–Stefanos, what’s going on? You’ve been awfully avoidant today– as everything his father says, it comes out rougher than intended, but Stefanos has learned to not take this to heart.

–It’s just… Don’t you think we’ve lived this already?– Stefanos gestures, vaguely, unable to explain what he’s going though.

–A slam? Yes, of course. We just had one not four months ago– Apostolos frowns, almost looking at Stefanos as if he’s crazy. Stefanos shakes his head, and gestures some more.

–No, no. This . The Australian Open 2022– Stefanos frowns, reading his father’s expressions, and he decides to drop the topic.

Stefanos takes a mental note to not mention these things again with his father, unless he wants to be made fun of, but his head keeps turning and twisting and thinking about the alleged dream.

One way or another, Stefanos wins his match, a four setter with two tiebreaks, and he still mildly celebrates the victory. He needs to forget about all of that and focus on the Slam, that’ll keep him busy and it all will just fade away.

January 22nd, Saturday, 9:am

Stefanos rolls out of bed, eager for the last match of this starting week in Melbourne. Or rather, he makes himself feel eager, as he’s trying to avoid a certain feeling that has been annoying him for days now. He looks at the draw, and though he doesn’t quite remember the names, he knows who he’s going to face next. He sighs before leaving the room, and he prepares himself for a day where he's not going to feel like himself– again. It seems like the deja vu has a deja vu, because he’s feeling constantly annoyed and strange for days now.

He has breakfast and he masks his discomfort as best as he can; he needs to get through this match and things will go back to normal, or so he reassures himself. Stefanos wins in a four setter after losing the first set, and he’s relieved he won; just one more step until the inquietude is over.

January 24th, Monday, 9:am

Stefanos’ week starts with a match, a tough match against Taylor Fritz, and he’s already feeling anxious about it. He can’t place the feeling but he knows the match won’t be easy. Apostolos tells him all about it, how he has to win, how he cannot lose, and he’s nodding, because Stefanos knows he’s right. He goes onto the match, serious, stressed, guarded and Fritz seems to be far more focused.

Stefanos ends up winning the match in five sets, and he’s happy he won, a feeling he has been missing recently. He goes to his room, and after taking a shower, he sits alone with his thoughts, contemplating Melbourne as he does so. The city keeps him grounded; no matter what happens it will be there for him, and he’s glad he can share his loneliness with it. 

January 26th, Wednesday, 9:am

Stefanos rolls out of bed, a tingly sensation running through his body, but is not as pleasant as he might’ve wanted. He’s playing the quarterfinal today, against Sinner he believes, and he already knows Petros won’t be with him this morning. He’ll listen to his father talk and he’ll have to agree, unable to escape or evade the topic, but he knows the conversation will be dropped soon; he just has to wait.

Stefanos is patient, with his father, with his match, with his life; he wins in straight sets and he’s happy to make it to the semifinals, yet he’s trying not to think about his next opponent. He allows himself to relax, just this once after all this turmoil, and he watches some TV when he gets to his room. He’s happy to be in Melbourne.

January 28th, Friday, 9:am

Stefanos wakes up, one more time, ready to play. He doesn’t look at the draw, Apostolos will tell him and they’ll talk about him. He gets ready and chats with Petros during his breakfast, though his father disapproves and tries to focus Stefanos in the match. He’s facing Daniil in the semifinal and it’s going to be a tough match. Everyone knows that and Stefanos wants to be as confident as inhumanly possible; he needs everything he can get and so much more. He prepares before the match, thinking about their previous encounters, thinking about Daniil’s playing style, and he’s sure he has the victory.

The stadium roars before him; when he gets into it, when he wins a point, when he wins a game, but the coin flips to the other side and Medvedev takes the win. The stadium roars one last time as he’s leaving; he’s grateful for the crowd, for the fans, for the support he’s getting, although he’s disappointed in himself.

The phone is ringing, vibrating whenever he gets a new message, but he pays no attention to it, he just wants to shower and go to sleep. Stefanos indulges himself in a bad romcom, a different one he believes, and forgets about the loss.

January 30th, Sunday, 11:am

Stefanos decides to stay for the final, it’s the least he can do after getting so far, and he has a lazy day in his room. He gets his breakfast delivered to his room, and he still hasn’t changed out of his pajamas, but he doesn’t care, he’s still sorrowful about the loss. He grabs the journal he always keeps during the tournaments, it helps him understand and process his feelings in a much clearer way, but he finds some stuff written. The entry date is ‘January 30, 2022’ and he’s written about how sorrowful he was about the loss. Stefanos reads and reads the words on the paper, so many times that it lacks meaning and his head starts spinning. It is not a coincidence, now he’s certain, but it won’t happen again, right?

The final starts sooner than he realises, and he’s confident Daniil will take the match– until Rafa flips the match and now they’re in the fifth set. Stefanos wants Rafa to win, but it seems like Daniil is putting up a fight; he cannot trust his senses anymore, not after this week, so he just observes, every point, every game, until the final one.

Nadal takes the match, and just like that he takes his 21st Grand Slam. A part of Stefanos is happy, of course, but another one, and a much bigger one, is confused, extremely confused. He grabs his journal one more time, and adds another entry ‘January 30, 2022. 2’ Tomorrow will be January 18 .

Chapter Text

January 18th, Tuesday, 9:am

Stefanos wakes up, and the first thing he does is look at his phone; January 18. He grabs his journal and he reads what he wrote ‘January 30, 2022. 2’. He’s right. He starts another entry ‘January 18, 2022. 2 3’ I’m going to win in straight sets, against Ymer I believe’ .  He almost doesn’t want to leave his room and live another week of wins in Melbourne, but he’s curious to see if anyone else is going through it like he is, or if he's completely alone on this one.

Stefanos is careful around everyone; his family, his rivals, his friends, but never the crowd, if he’s going to be stuck the least he can do is put up a show. He almost seems eccentric, but he tries to be as Stefanos as he can, in between all this madness. 

January 20th, Thursday, 9:am

Stefanos gets up and grabs his journal; another entry ‘January 20, 2022. 3’ I’m going to win against Baez in four sets. So far no one has figured out we’re stuck, whatever that means . He dresses up, has breakfast and has practice; so far everything is identical but he keeps an eye out in case he senses something different from the past two times.

Nothing. Stefanos wins, a four setter, and he forces himself to celebrate. If that’s his life now, he seriously needs to get acting classes to improve his fake winning smile. He gets to his room, pensive, aloof, and opens his journal to write.

I need to gather information, but no one seems to be acting weird except me. Who can I try with? Not dad for sure and Petros will tell dad as well . Who’s willing to answer my questions?

He closes the journal and leaves it in the nightstand near his bed; he can think about uncertainties in the morning, tomorrow will be the same day as last time.

January 22nd, Saturday, 9:am

Stefanos rolls out of bed, journal in hand, just to revise what he previously wrote; seeing his own thoughts being verbalized helps him ground. He’s going insane, but in his insanity he has some peace of mind. After breakfast, as he’s walking towards the tennis courts he spots Andrey. He looks calm enough, though it’s not strange for him to find him so peaceful when he’s not playing; Stefanos marks him as his next target and walks up to him. When Andrey sees him, he greets him with a smile and Stefanos smiles back at him. He’s so thankful Andrey is so easy to talk to, because Stefanos cannot stop feeling awkward and coy.

–Hey, how’s it going?– Stefanos initiates the conversation lightly. Andrey replies with a sided nod.

–Not too bad. I see it’s good for you, too?– Stefanos nods and fidgets with his fingers.

–Can I ask you something?– He doesn’t wait for an actual answer before speaking again– Have you been feeling odd lately?– Stefanos asks carefully.

–Not really. Maybe nervous for the win– Andrey laughs softly– But it’s a bit early, no?– Stefanos looks puzzled, and Andrey answers his unasked question– To be philosophical.

Stefanos pauses for a moment, and lets out a small chuckle.

–I guess it is… It was nice catching up with you– They both say goodbye and part ways, each one staying with their respective team.

Stefanos makes, yet another, mental note Don’t ask anyone until you’re 100% sure . He goes on to win his next match, against Paire in four sets– of course. He finally goes back to his room and picks up his pen and journal, to write down the final thoughts of the day.

Nothing happened. Speaking to anyone is useless. I have to keep looking. Next match is against Fritz and it’s going to be a tough one. I’ve got this.

January 24th, Monday, 9:am

Stefanos’ week starts with a tough match against Taylor Fritz; he already knows that. His father will remind him how important it is to win and he’ll have to begrudgingly agree and play five sets. Stefanos wishes he could speak freely with his brother this one time without his father getting in the way of the conversation.

It obviously doesn’t happen, and he has to listen to his dad’s voice, then play a long match, then go to his room acting as if he’s happy about the troublesome win, but he’s upset that his father can’t give him a break– ever.

Stefanos finally gets to his room and, before writing down his thoughts, he looks outside the window; even if he’s stuck, he has grown to like Melbourne even more. The city looks beautiful from his room, though it also looks the same , but something so still as a big city keeps him steady. Finally, he writes in his journal.

Quarterfinal against Sinner. Another win. I’m doing good, I have to keep trying.

January 26th, Wednesday, 9:am

Stefanos rolls out of bed and stretches. He knows and he doesn’t want to know; he doesn’t want to be so knowledgeable of the future, he wants to guess and live . He gets dressed but before leaving the room he stops. Stefanos writes down something quickly. I’m only stuck in January, I have to make it to February . He closes the door behind him and walks with a purpose; perhaps this time is useless to do anything else, but next time– and there will be a next time– he’s aware of what he has to do, whether that’s successful or not, but Stefanos finally has a goal.

Stefanos wins his quarterfinal, and for once, he’s happy and not just pretending. In addition, a victory in straight sets after winning in a five setter is always a good way to get back on track.

Once Stefanos is in his room, he resumes his routine– which is ironic considering he’s been stuck in routine for over 3 weeks now, and all weeks have been January. He picks up the pen and starts writing ‘January 26, 2022’. Oh, he forgot to add the date the days prior– but it’s fine, really, as long as he adds the date the first day of each loop, right?

Semifinal against Dan Medvedev. I’m going to lose. It’s okay, these things happen.

–Take it easy, Stefanos, you’re making progress– He reminds himself, but the words are shallow and he knows that.

January 28th, Friday, 9:am

Stefanos wakes up, one more time, to lose against Medvedev. He’s already dreading the day– he hates losing– but he’s bound to do this, he has no choice. Apostolos starts talking about the match, about Daniil, and Stefanos is completely unfaced. Petros gives him a funny look, carefully mocking him so their father doesn’t tell him off, and Stefanos brushes it off. He tries to keep himself as composed as he possibly can, but the weight of the loss is already settling in his chest.

Though the weight lessens when he hears the stadium thunder around him; he loves Melbourne. The crowd will be cheering for him tonight and he will disappoint them, but the warmth he will get throughout the match is enough to keep him going. He showers in the roar until it’s finally time to play and lose, although he really tries to keep the last thought in the back of his mind.

After the match goes straight to his room, nose in his phone, as he scrolls through social media. He’s actively avoiding all the messages entering his phone; he knows how he’ll answer anyways, so he focuses more on how he played. The clips of the match completely overflow his feed; from his best shots, to Medvedev’s best shots, to his goodbye and finally Daniil’s non traditional celebration. He leaves the phone on his nightstand and changes it for his journal, where he writes briefly.

Daniil Medvedev will lose.  

It’s an omen, it’s going to happen, he just has to wait.

January 30th, Sunday, 11:am

Stefanos decides to stay for the final, journal wide open; he wants to analyze the match, to see if he has missed anything at all. Before the match starts, though, he tidies his room and goes to a café nearby to have breakfast. He hasn’t done that before, so at least he can try local business and decide what’s good for next week. The one he chooses is not too far from the hotel, but seems to be hidden from tourists. The perfect spot , Stefanos thinks, and he orders something to go. 

He wanders around the city, without getting too far from his hotel since he doesn’t want to miss the final, and finally goes back when he feels he has seen enough. There’s plenty of time, no need to rush things , he tries to reassure himself, but he’s not sure how well it’s working.

Stefanos turns on the TV and switches to the sport channel; both players are warming up and his eyes are already glued to the screen. He doesn’t want to miss anything . He writes down what he feels is important; how the players— rather Daniil— move around the court, how the crowd cheers, the calls the umpire makes, the tension rising with each and every point, and finally, Rafa’s win. Stefanos was so focused he barely realised how his handwriting was unintelligible. I’ll have to rewrite this if I want to understand everything , Stefanos sighs but keeps his eyes on the TV.

The speeches after the match are something he enjoys, though he can almost guess what they’re both going to say. He pays attention; how the words are being articulated, the wording of each sentence, how they’re both feeling, and nothing appears to be out of the ordinary. Stefanos closes his journal and leaves it somewhere, he doesn’t care, tomorrow will be Tuesday either way.

Chapter Text

January 18th, Tuesday, 9:am

Stefanos wakes up, and the first thing he does is look at his phone; January 18. He sighs and stares at the ceiling.

–It’s Tuesday…– he mutters. 

Stefanos shakes his head and wakes up. He has to change things, so he starts by wearing different clothes; instead of his usual training kit, he grabs the one for the match. He leaves his room, eyes stuck to the floor, and his head cannot stop brooding over this whole thing. When he meets his father and brother to go have breakfast, Petros can tell something is going on, and he gives Stefanos a sympathetic look. Apostolos, on his side, pretends not to notice and just talks about the importance of winning this first match. Stefanos nods, absently; he doesn’t care, he’ll play, once again, and he’ll win until he gets to the semifinals and loses to Medvedev.

His match is nothing more than what he had experienced before; a 3 setter win. Stefanos, however, is far more mindful of his movements this time. He takes more time looking at his opponent and how he’s moving, and he hits each ball with more determination and knowledge as to where he wants it to go. By the end of the match Stefanos is definitely more confident in his shots and his playing style than he was these past weeks, so he considers that an improvement.

He’s glad the match is over quickly, that way he can go to his room and tidy up whatever he wrote yesterday– or the last next Sunday. It doesn’t make sense , not what he wrote, but the fact that he’s reading something that has already passed, but it hasn’t happened yet; it is still January 18th. Once everything is written as neatly as possible, he stares at the window. Maybe he could go out for a walk, it should be fine since he doesn’t have any more duties for the day.

Stefanos dresses himself up with a pair of shorts and a plain tshirt; something casual, something light, something comfortable. He leaves the room, camera in hand, and he walks mindlessly around Melbourne, only stopping to take pictures. Walking while taking pictures grounds Stefanos, something he has missed since this whole mess has started. It helps him forget about his worries, focussing on what he has in front rather than his repetitive life. 

When the sun finally sets down, Stefanos walks back to the hotel. The second he gets to his room, he sets the camera on the table and starts thinking about how he’s going to edit the photos he just took. The longer he thinks about it, the more he goes off topic and asks himself existential questions; would the pictures stay in his camera once it all goes back to the 18th? Surely they would stay, right? His diary stayed intact, so the camera should work the same. Stefanos hopes he’s right, because he cannot conceive losing such pictures. On the following topic, he wonders if he does lose anything, will he get it back? Perhaps not, same thing as the diary and potentially the camera, Stefanos concludes.

Change is the only constant in life, but his life is constant and not changing, so how is he supposed to live if the logical course of nature has been altered?

Oh… I should post that. Stefanos thinks and grabs his phone, but he stops himself before typing. He made a mental note to refrain from speaking about that, would it give it away? Is anyone going to notice or care , anyways? Stefanos sighs and puts his phone away. Tomorrow will be a new day and he’ll get out of Australia– eventually, he hopes.

January 20th, Thursday, 9:am

Stefanos rolls out of bed and he’s already exhausted. He can’t be feeling so tired just yet, he has to get to the end, but he’s desperate for February. He’s going to have breakfast, his father will be there, he’s going to win and then nothing. As he’s getting ready, he looks into the closet; all the clothes are the same and he’s getting bored of the same color scheme. Perhaps, after the match is over, he can go shopping. 

The day goes as scheduled, absolutely no surprises along the way, and Stefanos returns to his room. He has nothing to add to his diary, at least not yet, so he keeps it in place as he changes outfits, from his sports kit to a pair of jeans and a comfy t-shirt. Stefanos shouldn’t be drawing attention to himself whenever he goes out, but how much more dull can his outfits be since he always likes to put effort in his image. He sighs and grabs a pair of sunglasses that he has laying around. This does not go together , Stefanos thinks, but with the whole tournament going on he has to be lowkey.

Stefanos makes his way to a mall where he directly walks to the Adidas store; if he’s gonna change his kit, at least he’ll keep it sponsored. He wanders around the store until he finds a baby blue t-shirt with a pair of matching shorts; both things have navy blue accents in them. On the next aisle, he spots a pair of shoes, white and navy blue, that Stefanos thinks will go together. Finally, he grabs a pair of white socks and buys everything he has chosen.

He goes back to his hotel, bag in hand, feeling more and less pressured simultaneously; on one hand, he knows what’s going to happen and he’ll get far in the tournament, but on the other, he just wants to leave Australia and never come back– until next year at least. Hopefully, what he’s currently doing will help him change the outcome of things, whatever that means, and he’ll finally make it back home.

January 22nd, Saturday, 6:am

Stefanos is awake before the sun rises in Melbourne. Is this a blessing or a curse? He thinks. With a sigh, he gets out of bed and walks towards the bathroom, with his new clothes in hand. Stefanos takes a long, hot shower, perhaps not too fitting for the Australian summer but he needs a way to get his mind off of things. He gets off the shower and begins his hair care routine; it’s an automatic process and he doesn’t even need to look at the bottles to know which product is which. He walks back to the room, changed, clean and slightly tired. The diary is resting on the table, untouched, and Stefanos decides to read everything in it.

He opens it in the first page, 2019 it reads, and memories come back flying in his head. Mostly wins, some loses, his birthday, Petros’ birthday, Christmas, and unfortunately Apostolos is there too. Stefanos sighs again and flips the pages, hoping to find some lighter memories, but he’s met with the times that he was at his lowest. Now that he remembers, he used to write in his diary to try and cope from his father’s yelling, but it slowly turned into an actual journaling space for him. Perhaps it’s not all too bad , he thinks with defeat.

Stefanos closes the diary and leaves it where he found it, no additional pages written, and realises that the sun is up and high in the sky. He looks at the time, and he’s relieved to find that he’s not too late and won’t get reprimanded by his father. He grabs his back and walks downstairs to meet with Apostolos and Petros. He feels strange, like he knows something and can’t remember it, but blames it on the diary and the turmoil of emotions he has been carrying for longer than he can remember.

Stefanos goes on to win against Paire in another four setter. Yay for me , Stefanos sarcastically thinks when the match is over and he celebrates for the crowd– they’re definitely happier than he is at the moment.

January 24th, Monday, 9:am

Stefanos does not want to play today, not because he’s tired, not because he’s facing Fritz, he’s just not in the mood. He’s woken up by his alarm after sleeping through several bizarre and ominous dreams. He writes everything down, just in case it means anything later on, but he seriously wishes things won’t get as drastic. He dresses up, again in his new kit, and he walks down to have breakfast. He waits for his father, who looks at him up and down and raises his eyebrow.

–Is this new, Stefanos?– Apostolos asks with disdain. Stefanos nods, feeling small all over again.

–Yeah, they sent two kits, I guess– Stefanos replies, his voice low and controlled. Apostolos finds the answer satisfying and they just move forward with their day.

After the match is over, after the interview is over, Apostolos goes out of his way to reprimand Stefanos for all the mistakes he made. He knows the speech; he should’ve gone for the winner each time, he shouldn’t have left so many spaces, he should’ve served better– and Stefanos is tired. He looks down at his feet– Apostolos tells him to look up; Stefanos does as he’s told with a deep breath– Apostolos tells him to drop the attitude. There’s no winners with his father.

When he finally arrives in his room, Stefanos puts on the TV. Ironically enough, there’s another tennis match, Daniil against Cressy. He wants to switch the channel, yet he doesn’t. Everyone knows he’s not particularly fond of the Russian player, but something about the match tells him to stay. Daniil wins, of course, and he’s one match away from facing him. Stefanos turns off the TV, the room falling into a deafening silence, and he’s left alone with his thoughts.

I have to win, I have to make it to the final, but… Can I? Stefanos lays in bed, anxiety and self doubt tightening in his chest, and he can feel his eyes itching.

I can’t cry, I don’t cry Stefanos stays still, his breath arrhythmic and his pulse accelerating.

I hate him, I  hate him so much He keeps thinking.

He, who was supposed to raise him; He, who has berated him instead of comforting him; He, who once was his role model.

Tears roll down Stefanos’ cheeks, unwanted, salty, burning his skin. He turns to lay on his stomach, face buried in the pillow, and begins to cry– rather, allows himself to cry.

He hates crying, much like his father taught him; he doesn’t make a sound, not because he doesn’t want to, but because he had to be quiet about it growing up. Stefanos was a sensitive and silent child, something Apostolos hated, nevertheless he used to find comfort in his mother whenever he could.

–Don’t cry, Styopkin– she would often say– Your father means no harm.

However, a few years later, Petros was born and Apostolos was a much more gentle father towards his brother. Stefanos grew jealous, unwanted and forgotten. He hated school, he hated being at home, but he enjoyed tennis; Julia would teach him at times, especially when he was younger, but his father ended up taking over his tennis lessons. It was different when he played, as Stefanos took his anger out on the tennis balls– he wished it was Apostolos instead.

A noise breaks him out of his misery, a text message to be precise. Petros , Stefanos thinks, and he’s right; his brothers texts him to meet up for dinner, he’s just not in the mood. He declines but he knows Petros will insist. He does and Stefanos gives in, but with the condition that he’ll pay for the dinner. Petros agrees and Stefanos already knows he’ll be whining about it until next year.

Stefanos showers and dresses himself in cozy clothes; he’s too emotionally drained to deal with his appearance right now. When it’s time, he heads out the door to meet with his brother. They’re both late, as per usual, but Petros takes even more time to arrive.

–You’re late— Stefanos teases as he pulls him into a hug.

–So are you– Petros replies, knowing his brother hasn’t been waiting for long.

Stefanos is fake offended at the– very true– accusation, and they fake fight in the lobby, causing a small fake scene before finally leaving the hotel.

They have dinner in a local restaurant not too far from the hotel, around 15 minutes walking, and they talk about anything but tennis. Surprisingly enough, they only share tennis as a common interest, so sometimes it’s tricky for them to find a middle ground. They end up bickering and mocking one another– no ill intentions behind it– though, sometimes, they both know that Stefanos teases Petros as unfair payback. They’re also aware that it’s Apostolos who is truly at fault, but there’s nothing to be done about it.

After dinner, they walk back to the hotel, nearly in silence, as the day has grown long for the both of them.

–You know it’s not your fault, right?– Petros talks as they walk through the elevator’s doors. Stefanos doesn’t reply, he lacks the words and he’s not one to talk about his resentful feelings.

–You’ll do better on wednesday– Petros concludes. Stefanos nods and hugs him goodbye. 

It’s not my fault , He thinks as he changes into his pajamas, Then whose is it?

January 26th, Wednesday, 9:am

Another day, another win, and after that, a loss in the semifinals. Stefanos is feeling better, more relaxed at least, and he walks towards his match with that same serenity. Jannik is an exceptional kid, but he’s still a kid. The match is quick, over in 3 sets, and the crowd cheers for him throughout his points. He’s always so welcomed and accepted in Melbourne he wishes every tournament was Down Under– well, not quite like he’s living right now, but he could get used to the Aussie life if the tour stayed in Australia.

After the match, he thinks of something to do, something different, and he thinks of beginning to learn a new language. It might be ambitious, perhaps too time consuming, so he drops the idea; he wonders if someone will be willing to meet up with him, but they will all be too focused on the tournament to do so. He hesitates to open his diary after what happened last time, but he should write down everything that has happened so far, to see if he has missed anything. It also helps him gather his thoughts and make some sense of it all.

Nothing , he sighs, Besides me, it’s all the same .

Stefanos won’t give up, though, he has to keep going. Surely he cannot be the only one, right? He has to figure it out, find someone, do anything . Stefanos has been trying and he has been keeping up with everything going on in his surroundings, but what if, whatever he’s looking for, is outside his range? How far is Stefanos willing to go, and how long will it take him to get there? He sits on the edge of his bed, eyes glued to the floor.

I’ve dealt with worse , he thinks, but can I do it this time?

He looks up to the ceiling, waiting for a signal, or maybe he’s waiting to wake up from this nightmare, but whatever he might be waiting for it’s not here, and Stefanos is desperate.

January 28th, Friday, 9:am

Stefanos wakes up but he has no intention of getting out of bed, why would he? If he doesn’t play today, he’ll lose; If he plays, he will lose, so what’s the point anyways? Perhaps the point is to change the world, but is his world going to change? Stefanos stretches and groans; he has to get out of bed and face the loss. He stands up and gets himself ready to have breakfast. He knows the walk there, he knows he’ll meet with his father and brother, he knows everything that will be discussed and– yada, yada, yada: Stefanos knows too much. He’s already exhausted before the day even starts and he doesn’t know how he’s going to feel about the match.

The day goes as scheduled, no surprises whatsoever, and the time for the semifinal arrives. Stefanos is nervous and he’s trying to remind himself why he’s doing this. He has to get out, he has to move forward, and he can do this. The stadium cheers when he walks out and it all finally makes sense; they’re cheering for him . Stefanos is going to lose but he’s going to put on a show. He stretches and begins the warm up; usually, Stefanos focuses on his own movements and shots during this time, however this time he keeps his eyes on his rival. Medvedev is fast on court and he’s very strategic, besides, he’s at his best during hard court season. Stefanos knows that he has a disadvantage yet the crowd is on his side, perhaps it will add some pressure onto Daniil.

The match kicks off and games start going by. He moves purposefully around the court, he plays Daniil’s game, but his opponent is simply better . Stefanos knew it before their encounter started, although that won’t stop him from pouring his heart and soul on his defeat. He’s so focused he doesn’t realise they’ve already finished two sets and are starting the third one. They’re both tied right now, but the coin will ultimately flip to the other side.

They reach the final game, both sweaty, tired and hungry for the win. The heat is palpable and the stand roars; with every serve, with every hit, with every point. It’s nearly deafening. For Stefanos, time seems to go by slowly, much slower than ever before. His eyes are on the ball and his heart is in the stands, alongside all the aussie love he’s receiving.

One more point , he recites like a mantra. One last point , he sentences. 

It’s over. The stadium surrounds them with chants and claps, some for him, some for Medvedev, some for both. Stefanos is thankful, but he doesn’t dare to look up at the stands and meet his father’s eyes. He won’t skip dinner this time and he’ll face the bittersweet support of his family. Maybe, Paula will be there too. Stefanos sighs as he makes his way out of the court. He can hear the faint cheers for Daniil in the distance, and truly, he deserves it.

He goes to his room to freshen up and consciously leaves the phone in his nightstand; no more social media for the day. Stefanos walks out of his room and meets with Petros and Apostolos. As soon as they see each other, his brother pulls him into a big hug, telling him how proud he is of him. Stefanos nods and embraces Petros tightly. Apostolos rubs Stefanos’ back, his way of comforting his kid, and both brothers pull out from the hug. Stefanos looks around, hoping to find a pair of blue eyes, but he can’t find Paula.

–I think she’s late– Apostolos comments.

Stefanos hums and looks to the floor.

–It wasn’t a bad match, but you can’t play his game to win– His father speaks again.

–You can be better than him– Apostolos concludes.

The three men wait in silence until Paula finally appears. Stefanos hugs her tightly as Paula shushes him and runs her fingers through his hair. They quickly pull out from the hug and finally go to have dinner. Stefanos is starving, and if he had the strength, he’d be whining about it, just not today.

January 30th, Sunday, 1:pm

Stefanos rolls out of bed awfully late; he deserves it. For the first time since this all started, he’s feeling rested and relaxed. He’s ready to watch the final; he’s got snacks, drinks and his diary prepared, he only has to wait. In the meantime, however, he’s feeling extremely bored; how did he do it the other times? He recalls going to take some pictures, and going for a walk, but that’s about it. Maybe it’s the time to edit those pictures, which should still be on the camera– or at least he hopes.

Stefanos grabs the camera and his laptop, and gets to work. Everything is going smoothly; the light looks nice, the colors are vibrant and the shadows tie everything together. He’s so immersed in his hobby that he nearly misses the beginning of the match. He turns on the TV just as they start serving. He finally puts his laptop away and fully focuses on the final.

Realistically, he knows the match is the same length than the last three times, yet this time feels shorter. And another thing he has noticed is Daniil– not that he was staring at him, but he played differently. He cannot pinpoint exactly what it was, perhaps it was his serve? No, it surely couldn’t have been that. Was Medvedev playing slower? Definitely not, he’s known to be fast on court and Stefanos could see Daniil arriving at every ball. Then what was it? Stefanos groans. What were they saying? He tries to remember what the commentary was saying about Daniil, and he starts writing.

They said his playing style was “unique” but what else? He taps his pen against the notebook repeatedly, scratching his brain.

What was different today? He keeps noting down. Stefanos almost has it figured out but he cannot point his finger in the right direction.

The room is silent, only the clicking of his pen breaks the silence at a rhythmic pace.

What did he But as he’s writing the question, he finally gets it. 

His forehand Stefanos writes big and bold.

Sure, Daniil hits winners, that’s how he has been winning so consistently, but today he was on a roll. His forehand was flawless so they weren't getting the long rallies they did in the past times. Stefanos is confident the scores stayed intact, but not the length of the match.

RN df. DM 2-6 6-7 6-4 6-4 7-5

However, Stefanos is now curious so he looks up Daniil’s past matches to write down the scores. He’ll keep an eye out on everything, just in case tomorrow is January 18th.

Chapter Text

January 18th, Tuesday, 9:am

Stefanos is on the verge of tears when he still sees January 18th on his phone. He tried and it still wasn’t enough; what else is he supposed to be doing to get away? He sighs, he doesn’t want to do this anymore. He stares at the ceiling, the same exact ceiling he has been waking up to for God knows how long; he has no choice but to move forward. Stefanos feels useless, lost, defeated. He has found nothing and he has been looking everywhere; what is Stefanos missing, then? 

He sits up on the bed as he grabs his diary from the nightstand; he’s going to go through everything– again– just in case he has suddenly missed anything. The only thing he finds, however, is whatever happened last January 30. Daniil played slightly differently and the match was, at least, a few minutes shorter– though Stefanos can’t be 100% sure, he’s just speculating.

He lets out a frustrated grunt and puts down the journal; he should start getting ready soon or his father will scold him for being late. Stefanos dresses himself in his new kit and grabs his backpack, unsure of how to face this new week in hell. Is this penitence? He wonders. Stefanos finally heads downstairs to have breakfast, so engrossed in his own struggle that he misses a crucial detail; he walked past Daniil Medvedev. During the entire tournament they’ve never met, not on court or outside, the only time they’ve been together was during their semifinal match.

Nonetheless, Stefanos will regret not noticing sooner.

He has breakfast, then he goes to train– only for his father to tell him the same thing he has been saying since he was a kid ‘Strike for perfection’– and finally, he goes and wins his first match of the tournament. Stefanos celebrates quietly, with a soft smile on his face. Playing and winning, even when he knows what’s going to happen, helps him boost his ego, yet it is only temporary, as the Australian Open is the last of his worries. No matter how Stefanos plays during the matches, the scores stay intact.

When Stefanos is back in his room he instinctively grabs the journal, ready to write, but nothing is put down on paper. He knows he’s supposed to write something, that something happened today, but he cannot recall what it was. He doesn’t remember anything out of the ordinary, but that nagging feeling doesn’t go away.

I’ve been here for too long, he starts writing. I’m desperate to leave, it has to be that. He concludes. Stefanos tries to reassure himself that everything is okay, but he definitely feels far from okay. 

January 20th, Thursday, 9:am

Another day, another day where Stefanos is going to wonder why can’t he leave and what is he doing wrong; hopefully, today will bring him some answers. The sun is shining bright in his window but he’s not enjoying the sunny morning this time. He’s stuck, still, and there’s not even a hint for what path he’s supposed to be walking to. Stefanos has to start his day, but no amount of encouragement gets him out of bed, so he rolls to his side and covers his head with the blanket. Perhaps he should say he’s feeling sick, miss his match and figure things out later. But then, thinking more thoroughly about it, Apostolos would relentlessly shame him for ‘getting sick’. He takes a deep breath and finally stands up; there’s no easy way out, only through, so he’s going to have to do this no matter what it takes.

After his win, Stefanos goes back to his room; the previous January 20 he went shopping, should he do something today, as well? He wonders if he could go for a swim, since the hotel he booked has a swimming pool. Now, Stefanos has to see if he remembered packing a pair of trunks, which he should have. He’s an overpacker, in case anything ever happens he likes to be prepared, but this one time he decided to pack accordingly.

Of course I didn’t pack trunks Stefanos rolls his eyes, annoyed at his past self. He sighs. I guess I’ll just have to go to the rooftop and enjoy the view . He makes a deal with himself and changes into casual clothes.

Stefanos stretches and grabs his diary. He’s in a weird mood since he had to compromise with himself and miss out on swimming, but it’ll have to work. He’s wearing an oversized white t-shirt and a pair of black shorts as he’s heading out the door.

He’s bored, he’s annoyed and he has no one to talk to; the view is wonderful, yes, but what is a beautiful view if he can’t share it. Melbourne is showering in golden light, faint clouds painting the sky. Stefanos feels bittersweet; he should be appreciating the moment, he loves a nice landscape as much as the next person, but he still feels like something relevant happened on Tuesday yet he cannot recall exactly what it was. He tries to focus on the sunset, the quiet breeze and the city before him, but his head keeps spinning without his permission.

Stefanos gives up and sighs; he can’t ask anyone if something happened, because many things happened, because no one knows what’s going on, because he’s alone on this. He’ll have to figure things out on his own– like he always has– but sometimes he wishes he could rely on someone and ease his worries.

If I’m missing something, and I’m sure I am, will that help me? Stefanos starts thinking. But how can he find the lost piece to the puzzle if he doesn’t know where to look for it? He finally goes back to his room, his thoughts more scattered than ever; Stefanos feels like giving up.

It’s finally Saturday, and Saturdays for Stefanos feel lighter than weekdays, though he should be prepared to start his day– not because he’s late, but because he’s going to have a breakthrough. He begins to get dressed, absent, on autopilot, thinking about his match. He’s going to play Benoit Paire, he remembers, a four setter. Petros will be there for breakfast and they’ll joke as usual– their father won’t like it but he’ll have to sit through it. Stefanos grabs his back and walks downstairs, knowing his way even with his eyes closed.

As he’s joyfully greeted by his brother, the 3 men walk to the restaurant, prepared for the day. They see familiar faces; rivals, friends and inbetween. Stefanos feels weird, like sad and very nervous, and guilty– he thinks. Petros reads him like an open book but, in Stefanos’ defence, he’s very expressive. His brother starts talking about anything he can come up with, whether it’s a show he’s recently seen or weird dreams he has been having. Stefanos pays attention, to distract himself at least, and he hates to admit that Petros is funnier than him– occasionally.

They finish eating to go training, another boring part of Stefanos’ already awful day. He wants to focus on Petros, he seems to be talking very passionately about something, but he can only hear half of the conversation as his brain is somewhere else. Apostolos finally chimes in, just to make a silly remark in what his language should be a joke, very poor, but it gets both brothers to snort.

Stefanos looks straight into the hall, a very familiar hall, a very boring hall, and he finds a different figure. He shouldn’t be there, Stefanos isn’t sure where he’s actually supposed to be, but it’s definitely not there, because Daniil Medvedev has never been in his path. He holds his breath, as if he didn’t want to scare him, and gives him a small nod, which the Russian returns. Apostolos and Petros do the same, and everyone walks as if nothing was weird, as if it was normal to run into Daniil, as if this happened before. Stefanos walks slower, more hesitant, until he finally stops.

–What?– His father and his brother turn, same questioning expression in their face, as if he’s seeing double.

–I forgot something in my room– He mutters and turns around.

He can hear an exasperated sigh from his father and he’s sure Petros is rolling his eyes but he doesn’t care.

Stefanos is nearly sprinting when he reaches his room. He drops the bag onto the floor carelessly and looks for his diary. He grabs his pen and struggles to take the cap off– he’s shaking, nervous, distressed.

I ran into D Medvedev. I also ran into him the other day for sure. He writes fast, sloppy and he has ink in his hands, and– shit, he forgot to write the day down.

January 22nd, Saturday. 5 I believe.

The thing that he was worrying about, the thing that was missing, was it truly Daniil? Is it just a coincidence? Does Stefanos have to talk to him or will they cross paths again until everything is fixed? Too many questions, too little time. Stefanos grabs the first thing he can find– his camera– and brings it with him. It’s plausible for him to take the camera everywhere so his father shouldn’t suspect a thing. He finally walks back downstairs and goes to train.

Stefanos’ day feels more chaotic than ever, yet some questions got answered. Now, however, he has new questions, new fears, new duties. Something is wrong with Medvedev– or he has to do something with him. Maybe there’s something wrong with both of them and they have to do something about it. Stefanos feels dizzy, he’s been thinking too much too deeply these past weeks, feeling too many emotions all at once, he needs a rest and someone to bluntly point him to the right direction, but is he willing to listen and follow? Or will he wait and struggle all over again?

January 24th, Monday, 9:am

Stefanos is in denial, Daniil Medvedev cannot be the key to the solution– or he shouldn’t, at the very least. Surely, he hasn’t been careful enough and he has been missing things, right? It has to be a coincidence and something else will happen, that way Stefanos won’t need to work alongside Daniil. Stefanos groans as he walks to the bathroom; he needs to freshen up and stop thinking about it, he will just play today as if nothing happened ever.

Stefanos almost succeeds on, well, not thinking about Daniil, but he just happens to find him everywhere now. Every conversation he eavesdrops into is about him, every Australian Open ad he sees it’s about Medvedev; he’s losing his mind. And if that wasn’t exasperating enough, Stefanos also has his father whining about his match and what he could have done better. He knows the deal and he has nearly perfected the dead pan nodding face– emphasis on nearly, because Apostolos still had complaints about Stefanos’ attitude, or what he considered attitude anyways.

He sighs as he finally goes back to his room. Stefanos is tired from his very long match, tired of his dad and tired of seeing Medvedev. He lays down in bed and closes his eyes; on days like this, he misses his mum the most. She would stroke his hair and tell him that everything is alright. His mum, Julia, she can be tough but she loves him endlessly; she’s gentle, she’s tender and she’s always there to comfort him, at least when they’re together. In moments like this one, when they’re apart, it gets harder. They call, of course, but the timezones make it more difficult to have a ‘normal’ time to call; either it’s too late or too early for either of them and the conversations are short and shallow. Stefanos turns to his side, curling up, feeling vulnerable and alone. He wishes Julia was here, perhaps she could tell him what to do with this Medvedev situation. Stefanos wouldn’t necessarily tell her all the details but she would understand. He thinks his mum would tell him to stay true to his heart, but to think twice before making a choice. The heart and the head desire different things but the soul finds the way through both.

Slowly, Stefanos begins to drift off, and before he knows, he’s asleep and dreaming.

January 26th, Wednesday, 9:am

Stefanos walks out of his room, clean clothes and a clouded mind. He walks carefully towards the elevator; he has a feeling, a bad feeling, and he wishes to be wrong. The day is starting to feel extremely long and he has barely left his room. Nothing happens, just yet, but he’s expecting the worst– whatever the worst might be.

Stefanos goes and has breakfast; alone, with his father, and surrounded by the remaining players in the tournament. The restaurant is painfully silent, only the clicking sounds of plates and cutlery can be heard. Stefanos is not about to break the silence and Apostolos isn’t known for speaking either, so the breakfast is awkward and boring. Stefanos cleans up his plate and stands up, ready to go train. He’s followed by his father, who keeps a steady eye on him; he knows his father knows something is up, but he would rather cut his hair really short than bring it up.

After practice, Stefanos’ head feels lighter, more focused on his quarterfinal match against Jannik, until he spots– yet again– a lanky figure at the end of the corridor. Like last time, he can’t avoid him, but by the looks of it, Medvedev isn’t too pleased to see him either. Would it make a difference if Stefanos said anything? Would Daniil realise something is wrong or would Stefanos just make a fool of himself? Before he can find an answer, he feels his mouth moving.

–Good luck– He says. Plain, low, an automated message. 

–You too– Stefanos can hear as he walks past Daniil.

It doesn’t feel natural but it’s not supposed to. The soul has answers unknown to him, and he’s trusting it.

Stefanos wins. He wants to say that Jannik gave him a run for his money, but he didn’t. He can see a great future for him, perhaps, next time they meet things will be different. Apostolos, on his side, pointed out the things Stefanos still has to improve, but threw a ‘good job’ here and there. It’s supposed to be a cheerful speech, Stefanos wants to take it as one at least, but it’s barely uplifting. And as he’s making his way back to his room, he finds him again. It’s the third time this week– and hopefully the last– and Stefanos feels weak. He avoids eye contact, knowing very well Daniil has seen him too.

–Congrats– Daniil speaks. Intrigued, reserved, on autopilot.

–Thanks– Stefanos mutters– See you on Friday– He concludes before taking the elevator, leaving Medvedev behind.

Stefanos is irritated as he writes down today’s events. He cannot believe Daniil is his answer. He’ll have to do something about it and he has no plan to follow. Either way, he has plenty of time, but he’s desperate and he’s angry. Writing helps him ground and process his emotions, however he doesn’t know how to tackle this Daniil thing; is he supposed to walk up to him and straight up tell him? His rival surely won’t believe him, so he has to be clever about it. He can figure something out, he’s got this.

January 28th, Friday, 9:am

Stefanos is angry because he knows, and nobody else knows, and the only person who will know is going to beat him today. Everyone can tell he’s angry and nobody dares to ask, because not only will they not get anything out of him but they will also get their feelings hurt. Stefanos has the bad habit of bottling up his emotions, so when he’s mad and provoked he explodes and becomes very hurtful. He hates it, he hates how he turns into his father when he’s upset because he knows how it feels on the other end. He tries to avoid feeling so upset as much as possible, and thankfully, his family knows how to deal with him; yet, he wishes he didn’t have to be dealt with.

After his training session Stefanos feels more serene; he remembers his fathers words from last time, so he won’t play Medvedev’s game, he’ll play his own. It’s not going to work, but that’s not the purpose; the purpose is to improve, to understand, to learn. Stefanos needs to figure out how to approach Daniil, and what better way than playing against him. Of course, they’ve played before, but never with this intention. Stefanos has never focused on him, only his own game whenever they played, what he could and couldn’t do, but this time is not about winning.

As the time approaches, Stefanos feels nervous; he has a mission but no plan, a journey with no map and he's scared he won't have any answers today. Nobody but him knows he will lose, so his brother and his father are actively encouraging him, telling him strategies or reminding him of his strengths. His mum also calls him before the match, a quick phone call wishing him good luck. Stefanos’ chest feels tight, fearing Julia will be disappointed in him. He takes a deep breath, he doesn't have time to be upset before a match where he doesn't have to win, just to observe. However, the Greek is not meant for observing, he is the king whose crown is too heavy and whose duty he does not want. Perhaps, Stefanos can put his duty aside just this once so he can focus on the big picture, but that heavy feeling is difficult to avoid as he hasn't known life without it.

The match is on and his head is blank. Stefanos has his eyes glued on Daniil; there's no one else in the stadium, only his rival and himself. It feels quiet, steady, he knows what's gonna happen. He doesn’t care about the score, he doesn’t care about the roar after a big point, only Daniil– rather, understanding him, Stefanos is very clearly focused about wanting to leave and not him .

The first two sets are done and dusted. He feels tired, his body sweaty and his legs are starting to get sore, but he still has two more sets to go. They’re tied right now and everyone thinks the match is tighter than ever, yet Stefanos knows Daniil is about to win the other two sets. He hasn’t cracked him, he can’t– Medvedev is too unpredictable, eccentric, chaotic, and he knows for a fact he’s different out of court. They call him chessmaster, and it’s not just a nickname, Daniil has earned it; Stefanos cannot see past his stoic yet surprisingly expressive façade. He knows of Daniil, they’ve been on the tour for a while now, but they’ve never been friends. He knows why they never got close, though he won’t admit it; Stefanos knows Daniil is not one to get provoked– at least by the crowd– but he is temperamental. Medvedev is very confusing for Stefanos and he’s starting to get more and more frustrated with himself.

There’s one game to go, and Stefanos cannot clutch this even if he wants to, because it’s not meant to be. He’s meant to lose, watch the final in Melbourne and see Daniil lose– again, and again, and again. It’s almost too painful to think about how many times Daniil has lost from two sets up and he doesn’t know it; to him, he still has a chance to win back to back slams. As the points go by Stefanos feels even more irked; Daniil doesn’t know he’s going to lose, but surely, going against Nadal, he has to have doubts, right? His rival is not cocky, that much he knows, and he’s very practical. So, how has Medvedev not picked up on anything?

Stefanos is grunting, something he never does; to release tension, to release anger, to let the clever ones know something is up. There’s one point left and he knows there’s people that are still rooting for him; somewhere deep in his chest, he’s starting to feel upset because he’s going to disappoint so many people, but he cannot do anything else but to lose. Stefanos watches Daniil serve, and suddenly, the ball is out; he has lost 6-7 6-4 4-6 1-6. He sighs, the last set was embarrassing for him, as it was just Daniil dictating and Stefanos failing to follow. He’s walking towards the net, racquet in hand, when Stefanos realises something; Daniil is practical . Right, he knew that but he hadn’t considered that. He tries to keep his face as neutral as possible, shaking Medvedev’s hand as if something wasn’t brewing inside of him. His rival might have picked up on it, the way he looks at him is different from the past 4 times. Stefanos congratulates Daniil, and Daniil just nods at him. The Greek has his eyes glued on him for longer than he would have wanted to, but he has an idea and it will work, he knows it will.

Stefanos is in his room, clean, fresh clothes on, when his phone starts ringing. He unenthusiastically looks at it, expecting anyone but his mum. A smile forms in his face when he realises it’s her and he picks up the phone in no time.

–Hey, baby, how are you?– Julia asks in the same tone as Stefanos would have imagined; concerned, motherly, sweet.

–I’m okay, mama. I wanted to win but… He’s a tough opponent– He can imagine his mum nodding, understanding and patient.

–You played really well, Styopkin, you have to be proud of yourself– Stefanos’ smile grows bigger, his chest warm and fuzzy.

–I thought you would be disappointed– He speaks slowly, coyly, as he plays with the brim of his pajama pants.

–I can never be disappointed in you, Styopkin. I’m always proud of you, whether you win or lose– Julia replies tenderly, with so much love in her voice it melts all of Stefanos’ worries away. 

–Mama, can I ask you something?– Stefanos says mindlessly. He doesn’t realise what he has said until he hears a very lovingly ‘of course’ on the other side of the line.

–Say… You do not have a good relationship with someone but… You really have to talk to that person– Stefanos is very careful with his words, but he feels awful for hiding things from her. Though, she wouldn’t believe him– How would you go up to them and… Tell them.

There’s a small silence, he takes it as his mum thinking about an answer, although he fears the response might not help him.

–Stiopkin, is this about Daniil?– He’s taken aback; of course Julia would know, he just wishes she didn’t.

–Yeah…– He replies shamefully, he cannot lie.

–Just tell him that you want to talk to him, whatever it is that you want to tell him, he will understand– Stefanos nods but doesn’t reply, he’s scared of Daniil blatantly rejecting him– You know, he’s nicer than you think, maybe you can even become friends. 

Stefanos stares at his phone. His mum hung up on him a few minutes ago but he's still processing what she said. ‘Just talk to him…’ Yeah, right, mum, as if that's gonna work , he’s sure Julia is right but he doesn't want her to be, because that would mean that Daniil and him have never spoken because… Because– well, just because. He sighs; Stefanos knows what he's going to do, it's the only thing he came up with and possibly the thing that will work, but just go and talk to Daniil? Just… Talk to him. No, Stefanos cannot do that.

He sighs once again, it feels like the only thing he has been doing lately is sigh and resign himself. He takes a deep breath and puts his phone away, there’s no point in overthinking what he’s going to do next; it’ll have to happen and he will have to figure it out on his own– as he always does. Stefanos writes down his thoughts from the day, the match, what he spoke with his mum and hopefully things will clear up on their own. He goes to sleep, feeling conflicted and frustrated, but tomorrow will be another day.

January 30th, Sunday, 12:pm

Stefanos sleeps in as he deserves to rest and refresh his batteries for another week in this nightmare. He’s not sure if he wants to see the final– again– and see Medvedev lose against Rafa from two sets up– again. He’s still thinking about what his mum said, about Daniil being nice and understanding, and Stefanos cannot believe her; not because he doesn’t want to, not because she’s wrong, but because he hasn’t seen him being nice or understanding. He knows if he looks through his diary he’ll find an entry on the day they had their big fight; he can almost recall the exact words he used and he’s not sure he agrees on what he previously said. Stefanos is agitated, remorse starting to eat him from the inside and it’s too late; too late to talk, too late to apologise, too late to be forgiven, and that’s why Medvedev won’t listen to him.

He wishes things were easy, that he never made any mistakes, that he wasn’t stuck, but he has to deal with everything at once with the few tools he has. He ruminates about the past, his very long present and his future– but he’s particularly fixated about the past. Is he capable of being forgiven if he doesn’t forgive himself? Is this something he thought of himself or was he taught to feel unforgiving? Stefanos questions himself; what he knows or doesn't know, what he feels and doesn’t feel, what’s his and what’s ingrained. He knows what he has to do, but not how he has to do it; he feels alone and he doesn’t feel like talking about it; he fucked up, but did he deserve it?

Stefanos is watching the match, though he was initially hesitant, he figured that he is staying for a reason and he should– at least– turn the TV on. Points go by and Stefanos wants to be bored, to say that he has seen the match so many times that he knows how each point will go, but he can’t. Rafa has such a particular way of playing that makes it impossible to look away, and Daniil– well, Daniil is a good player in his own way. He’s unorthodox and calculating but he has a fire inside of him that burns brighter when you’re not looking. Stefanos finds it difficult to focus on just one of the players, as both are battling so passionately. He’s disappointed when the match is over because he’s hungry for more; realistically, there’s going to be a next time and, perhaps, next January 30th he won’t be looking forward to watching it, but right now he’s looking at the TV with different eyes.

Stefanos goes directly to sleep, as there was nothing worth to be added to his journal. He’s tired from watching such an intense match, from feeling so many emotions in such a small period of time, but tomorrow will be January 18th and he has another chance to start over.

Chapter Text

January 18th, Tuesday, 9:am

Stefanos is awake, and as he’s getting ready, he grabs his diary; he knows he has some notes there but he needs to be entirely sure he has everything down. What he needs is all there, but it’s very poorly written, all scrambled and unintelligible; he needs to do something about it. Stefanos grabs a pen and tears out a page from the journal; he takes his time to write everything down, from the scores to the players Daniil will be playing. Just in case, Stefanos also adds his own scores and rivals he will face. He looks at the paper and folds it; he’s scared to hand it over, not because he’ll have to give away some of his sanity, but because he has to confront Daniil and he does not want to. Stefanos purposefully leaves the paper in his nightstand, he cannot do it today.

His day goes as it’s supposed to be, but Stefanos’ head is somewhere else. He’s overthinking and he hates that he has his rival stuck in his head; Stefanos is supposed to be focused on his matches because, even though the results won’t change, he wants to improve. He can’t. He’s not focused. He hates it.

When he finally makes it to his room, he lets out a very frustrated sigh as he sits down on his bed. Perhaps, he should have given Daniil the paper so he wouldn’t have been thinking about it all day long, but then, he would have been thinking about their interaction and– Yeah, it was better not to give it today. Stefanos looks at the ceiling, again, to look for answers; obviously, there's nothing there, however, he finds it more inspiring than to look at the floor. Even if he’s right, even if Daniil takes the paper, will he believe him? Chances are that he will be stuck forever, because you cannot trust a person you hate in two weeks.

The more Stefanos thinks about it, the worse he feels; it’s hopeless, it’s stupid, but he has no choice.

January 20th, Thursday, 6:am

Stefanos wakes up at dawn; restless, anxious, scared. It’s too early to be thinking about what he has to do and how much he doesn’t want to, besides, he needs to kill some time before he actually has to meet with his father. Stefanos decides to go for a quick jog, nothing more than 40 minutes, to take his mind off of… Well, everything. He dresses himself in his old kit and only grabs the key card to his room; he wants– No, he needs no distractions.

After he comes back from his run, sweaty and considerably more relaxed, he goes on to take a cold shower. While inside the shower, he takes some time to reflect; all that has happened, all that could happen and all that’s about to happen. He will talk to Medvedev because he has to and, hopefully, it will all start to resolve. It won’t be easy but he has to begin somewhere.

When the time arrives, Stefanos gets ready in his clean clothes and heads downstairs to have breakfast. He makes sure he has packed everything he needs to; he double checks, he triple checks; he doesn't want to postpone it any further. Stefanos is starving, so he’s particularly quiet as he meets his father. Apostolos doesn’t question it– verbally, at least– and just raises an eyebrow. It is not meant to tease Stefanos, and if he didn’t know any better, he would think it’s almost endearing.

After they’re done eating, they walk to court for practice. Stefanos is feeling confident, every shot going the direction he wants, hitting the corners tightly and fast. Apostolos gives him minimal notes, telling him to be smart with his serve and his forehand, but overall he’s doing good and he knows it. Practice ends sooner than he wants to, so the moment to find Daniil comes. Stefanos packs up his racquets and walks away from court; tension is building up inside him, feeling more and more anxious as he takes another step. He doesn’t fully know where to start looking for him, he has never had the need to do that before, so he decides to go to the locker room first and move from there.

Stefanos changes clothes, giving himself some time to think, when he notices a bag at the other end of the locker room. It shouldn’t be something out of the ordinary, except he recognizes the back. Maybe– and just maybe– luck is on his side today, but he waits until he can see Daniil to say something. In the meantime, he’s looking for the paper and fidgeting with it; he reads and re reads what he had written down, every score and player for the entire tournament, his and Daniil’s draw, and everything is already unfolding exactly as it should. Stefanos feels a few steps behind him and he turns to finally face Daniil. His rival gives him a hesitant nod after seeing Stefanos’ serious stare. He walks up to Daniil, unsure on how to approach the situation.

–Hey– Stefanos starts.

–Hi– Daniil replies, looking uncomfortable and puzzled.

–I… Honestly don’t know how to explain this to you– Stefanos clears his throat, mainly as a nervous habit– So, I’m just going to give this to you. Talk to me when you understand.

He hands Daniil the paper, folded, and his rival reluctantly takes it. He doesn’t have time to reply or question Stefanos when Daniil sees he has already left, quickly and quietly. Stefanos is walking fast to his room; he’s going to be replaying that interaction until the end of times, he is painfully embarrassed. But on the good side, he did it, he did his part and he just has to wait, which will be the hardest part.

January 22nd, Saturday, 9:am

Stefanos wakes up feeling uneasy; if he remembers correctly, the past January 22nd he ran into Daniil. He grabs the diary to check, and whilst he’s at it, he writes down that he sort of spoke to Daniil. It wasn’t much of a conversation, Stefanos isn’t sure what to call it exactly, but their interaction was… Successful, he hopes. He sighs and leaves the journal next to his backpack; he has to get ready for a new day on court, but at least it’s not going to be a tough day.

Stefanos dresses up and grabs his things, leaving behind his diary. He heads downstairs, expecting nothing but a boring day. He meets his brother Petros and his father, who are waiting for him in front of the restaurant, and Petros pretends to be annoyed. Stefanos only gives him a sided smile.

–Oh, come on, you haven’t been waiting for that long– Stefanos knows he’s right, Petros knows his brother is right, but he’s not going to admit it.

–Dad and I are starving, we’ve been waiting for almost an hour– Petros has to hold his laugh, pretending to be offended. 

Apostolos, on his side, is rolling his eyes and sighing, but that doesn’t stop both brothers from bickering. As a matter of fact, they keep on bickering until they sit down and start having breakfast. Mainly, they’re not fighting because they’re eating, mouths full, but that gives their father a much needed break.

When they finish their breakfast, Stefanos and Petros finally get serious and walk up to court for practice. Apostolos is giving both of them notes on how to move around the court– even though Petros is not playing– and they’re listening and nodding in sync.

Practice is over sooner than later and match time is approaching. It’s a four setter for Stefanos, so he should be fine, yet he doesn’t want to play. He is extremely impatient and he wants to get out of Melbourne as soon as humanly possible, but he doesn’t even know if Daniil understands or believes him. He goes onto the match with his head in the clouds, probably playing the worst tennis of his life, but he knows that he’s going to win regardless of what he does, the score staying intact.

When Stefanos comes back to his room, he just lays in bed. He’s not in the mood to do anything, not even changing into comfortable clothes. He isn’t tired, either, or at least, he’s not physically tired, but he just wants a very long break. He sighs into his pillow, then he groans, and then he turns around, groaning. He is so bored and annoyed and exasperated, and he still cannot do anything about it. Stefanos finally decides to go to sleep, changing very lazily into his pajamas and being inconvenienced about existing. Tomorrow will be a new day, and he hopes it’s a better one.

January 24th, Monday, 9:am

When Stefanos wakes up, he's already feeling anxious. He's going to play a 5 setter against Fritz and his father is going to tell him off and make him feel like crap. He knows what he's going to say; how he barely won, how all his shots were bad, how he got lucky. Sure, Stefanos will have a tough match, he will struggle, but that does not mean he got lucky; Stefanos knows he won the match. He stretches before standing up and getting ready.

Stefanos is going through his day fully in automatic, he wants this over as soon as possible. He doesn't want to think, he doesn't want to feel; he knows his day is going to be terrible, so why would he want to suffer? Breakfast and practice are done, so he just has the match before he can go back to his room. Before stepping onto court, Stefanos is hyping himself up, not for their encounter but for what his father will tell him.

Like the last… 5 times, Stefanos reckons, he plays a very tough and physical match. 5 sets against Fritz, who has him on edge since the first game. He celebrates, fist in the air, but he's exhausted. A small roar comes out of him, and a bigger one can be heard from the stands. He still has to give interviews, but that's light work compared to what he has just done. And when he ultimately meets his father, he's already sighing, the very thing that Apostolos hates the most. His father scolds him, but Stefanos doesn't care, he just waits until he's done so he can finish his day. Apostolos is infuriated at the sight of Stefanos walking away from him, but he can't stop him.

Stefanos is finally free of his duties when he arrives in his room. He is so physically tired that he's not thinking of today's events, he's only thinking about how much he wants to sleep. With very lazy movements, Stefanos changes into his pajamas, as he can hear his phone blowing up. He reckons it might be his brother, since his father would call him anyways, and he chooses to ignore it; he will reply whenever he has rested.

January 26th, Wednesday, 9:am

Stefanos wakes up in a good mood, knowing that his match today is going to be considerably easier than his previous one. He hasn’t fully spoken to his father, who shouldn’t be angry at him any more, but he knows it will be a tense atmosphere if he doesn’t apologise to Apostolos. Stefanos is rehearsing his apology speech, perfecting his fake regret so his father thinks that he’s actually sorry– which he isn’t. He gets dressed and grabs his bag, fake sulking as he walks out the door so he can get into his sad and regretful persona that his father will have to forgive. When he meets his father, Apostolos gives him a sided nod, implying that he’s forgiven and Stefanos won’t need to verbally apologise.

They have breakfast, then practice, then the match. Stefanos is feeling particularly calm and collected, as he knows the encounter will go his way and his father won’t be able to criticise him. He is curious about his opponent, Jannik Sinner, who’s only a kid but has shown amazing tennis lately. Stefanos is only 3 years older than him, but he can clearly see a nice career for him; he’s already fought for some master 1000’s, so perhaps he could make it to a Grand Slam final some day. On this day, however, Sinner is going to lose in straight sets, meaning Stefanos will advance to the semifinal against Medvedev, and he’s unsure how to feel.

The second Stefanos is back in his room, he thinks about his next match. Daniil will surely be different, after having read the paper Stefanos gave him. Well, at least he thinks Daniil read it; he hopes he did, at least. Either way, he is also feeling different, more hopeful, and this might be a turning point for him. Stefanos grabs his diary and opens it in a random page, he doesn’t have anything to write but he would like to read something and find some clues if he’s able to. He opens the notebook and reads the date ‘January 22nd’; this was the first time he was in Melbourne, as he didn’t number it and he had a four setter against Paire. He studies the page, from top to bottom, from left to right, and the only thing that he can think of is how awful his handwriting is. He couldn’t predict what was going to happen, and if anything relevant did happen the first time, he surely gave no thought into it. He’s not upset but he is disappointed since he will have to wait until Daniil decides to say anything to him and Stefanos hates waiting.

January 28th, Friday, 9:am

Stefanos wakes up and checks the date; it is definitely his semifinal day against Medvedev and he is not ready. He’s anxious, he’s nervous and he’s scared. He doesn’t know how his rival is going to behave, Stefanos doesn’t even know how he will behave himself, and he’s going to lose, so his father is going to scold him again. He is more tired of his father than having to play over and over again, in the same place, with the same players, and losing against Daniil, every single time. Stefanos finally dresses up and grabs his back, unsure on how to face his day. He takes a deep breath before walking out of his room, and carefully makes his way down to have breakfast.

He meets with his father, who reminds him that this is a very important match, that Medvedev is a tough opponent, and that he has to be extra focused today. Stefanos nods to his father’s words, knowing very well that, while he’s technically right, there’s nothing Stefanos can do to win this match.

They walk to court for practice, where Apostolos is being harsher than usual, he wants his son to be in perfect form for his match. Stefanos doesn’t complain, though he could, working harder keeps his mind occupied so he has a moment to not think about anything at all, just hitting a ball. When practice is ultimately over, it feels like his whole world is about to collapse; Stefanos doesn’t know why, but he has a nasty feeling about his match.

As Stefanos walks out on court, the roar of the stands makes its way from his ears to his heart. He’s always happy that the Australian crowd likes him so much, it makes him feel at home no matter how far he is. A faint smile forms in his face as he looks at the stands to see all the fans waiting for them to begin their match. Stefanos is relatively carefree; he knows he can’t do anything so the result won’t bother him, but there’s still that icky feeling lingering inside of him. It might be pent up tension, but he believes he might discover it very soon.

Stefanos and Daniil begin the warm up, balls bouncing back and forth, and Stefanos wants to keep his eyes out of Daniil as much as possible. He feels… Guilty, for some reason, so his best– rather quickest– solution is to avoid him. They start serving and Stefanos feels especially confident with his serve; it would be a good thing if it wasn’t because his fate is written in the stars.

At last, the match starts and the whole stadium holds its breath as the first ball is being served. Stefanos can feel the eyes of the fans on top of him, his father’s stern look on him and the heat radiating from Medvedev. It’s a particularly tense encounter and it’s considerably worse than ever before; this match has a build up, a story and a big mystery surrounding it. Stefanos doesn’t want to overanalyze the situation, but he feels Daniil’s shot angrier, harder, sharper. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t hitting as hard or as mad as Medvedev was, because he truly is matching Daniil’s energy.

As the match progresses, Stefanos can hear his father speak to him, and he doesn’t really mind as he knows it’s more of a nervous habit than anything, but on the other side of the court, Daniil does mind. In fact, during the second set, Daniil minded so much that he… Passionately complained to the umpire about it. Stefanos hears the yelling from afar, closing his eyes and trying to keep himself focused on the match, but Daniil is very agitated and verbal about it.

Even with Daniil’s tantrum, Apostolos keeps on talking throughout the match, which keeps both players on edge. Stefanos is downcast, everyone’s eyes are on him and he cannot do anything about it; he cannot tell his father to shut up, he cannot up his game and beat Daniil, he cannot win this match. Finally, during the last set, Stefanos gets a coaching violation that really shakes him; he’s not unused to them as Apostolos does not learn from his mistakes, but his father couldn’t have picked a worse time.

The match finishes quickly after that, Stefanos could only hold serve once and could not pierce through Daniil’s serve. He sighs as he walks up to the net, where he can see his rival glowering at him. It stings, for some reason, seeing Daniil so angry at him, so close to him, hurts Stefanos. He feels many things at once, such complex things that he lacks words to describe how he feels; he could use coy, vulnerable, bruised, or perhaps embarrassed, but there’s not one that can fully grasp the entirety of his emotions.

Stefanos leaves the stadium with the bag on his shoulder and a pitiful smile on his face. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone ever again, not his family, not the journalists, not his friends; he wants to be alone. He deserves it, after all, his only chance at getting out of Melbourne has been destroyed by his father. Stefanos is quiet, barely answering any questions they’re asking him, and when he gets out of the room, he goes mute. He has nothing to say, nothing coherent at least, and he just wants to go back to his hotel room and sleep.

January 30th, Sunday, 9:am

Daniil wakes up restless, like every day these past couple weeks. It’s all Tsitsipas’ fault, since he gave him that paper with his draw and the scores for every match, Daniil hasn’t been able to think about anything else. How did he know that? He surely couldn’t have rigged so many matches only for Tsitsipas to lose to himself. Besides, how is he possibly going to lose against Nadal from two sets up? According to the paper, he has the match practically in his hands, he cannot lose like this. Daniil sighs as he’s getting ready; he has one last practice to go before the final and he’s incredibly unfocused.

Firstly, Daniil has breakfast, the most important part of his day where he… Well, won’t debrief anything with Gilles because that only makes things worse. During practice, however, it’s the perfect time to speak to his coach; he’s grateful for him, he has pushed him to become a better player, though he sometimes can’t understand Gilles’ thought process. Practice goes well, as per usual, but– like every day of the week– his coach has asked him once again if something is wrong. Daniil obviously said no, that he was fine, because he cannot say anything else; how is he supposed to tell Gilles that Stefanos, of all people, gave him a paper and somehow can see the future. Daniil is very frustrated.

The time for the match finally arrives. He’s looking at the floor before the speakers call his name and he walks on court. The stands cheer for him, but nothing compared with Rafa– or Stefanos, but Daniil won’t admit that he’s thinking of him. This will be a tough encounter, obviously, any match with Rafa is the definition of endurance, but Daniil can endure. The warm up begins, and much like his previous match, he can already feel the crowd supporting the other side of the court; Daniil doesn’t mind, as a matter of fact, he prefers it that way so he can surprise them and make them cheer for him, even though they would want Rafa to win.

The ball is finally put into play, both players laser focused and willing to give their all. As it said on the paper, Daniil wins his first two sets and he’s elated; this final will go his way and he will be able to prove Stefanos wrong. But as the third set begins, he can feel something shifting. Daniil was so confident that the win would be his, but he can sense that Nadal is lifting his game, hitting clearer shots. Daniil doesn’t back down, he can’t, but questions start invading his mind; Stefanos couldn’t have fixed this match, it’s impossible, so what is happening?

Daniil becomes more hesitant as the encounter progresses; he’s not hitting how he wants to, he’s serving worse and Rafa is unstoppable. He’s not playing badly, the scores aren’t that heavily disbalanced, but Daniil is not playing his A game. He’s on edge during the last set; he knows he can clutch this, he has to, he really really has to. But Rafa is 6-5 and Daniil cannot pierce through him; he’s trying, God knows he’s trying, but nothing seems to work. And finally, the ball bounces outside and Rafa wins.

The post match speech and interviews are a blur to Daniil; he has done them, those are his duties, but he cannot recall anything he said. He congratulated Rafa– or so he hopes– he might have made a joke, maybe; he truly does not know. Daniil sighs as he stares at the floor; besides him, Gilles puts a comforting hand on his shoulder and pulls him into a hug. It’s uncomfortable, their height difference makes Daniil have to shrink, but he rests his head on Gilles shoulder, arms hanging next to his body, and he starts to feel less hollow. He had the win, he could taste it, savour it, touch it, yet it went to Rafa; Stefanos was right, somehow.

Daniil takes a deep and labored breath when he finally stands up straight and walks off to the Hotel. As he's approaching it, he remembers Stefanos’ words “Talk to me when you understand” but he doesn't understand, he has even more questions. He understands that he was right, that the draw and the scores were exactly as he predicted, but what if Stefanos didn't ‘predict’ it? What if Stefanos knew? So, how did he know? It seemed intentional, something rehearsed, something like… A memory. Once again, Daniil is confused by the lack of answers so he has to take action. As he’s walking in the hotel lobby, he takes out his phone and looks through his contact list; he has a vague memory of getting Stefanos’ phone number during Laver Cup. When he gets to the letter T, that's where he sees the name ‘Tsitsipas’. Daniil writes him a quick message.

what's ur room?

Not even a minute later, he gets a reply. 

406, floor 3

Daniil’s heart starts pounding inside his chest; he doesn't know what he's going to say, he doesn't know what Stefanos is going to tell him, and he's so unsure of how to react to this situation. He's walking to Stefanos’ room, something he has never done, and it's not because they have suddenly become friends, this is bigger than a friendship. Daniil hesitates before knocking on Stefanos’ door; he's holding his breath, heart beating faster than before, and before he knows it, the door is open and he's met with Stefanos.

The Greek gives him a nod, telling him to go inside his room, and Daniil feels particularly shy, at the moment. He has his bag on his shoulder, clean but training clothes, while Stefanos looks like he's wearing his pajamas. They're both standing inside his room, quiet, unsure, and they have a big mystery to solve. Stefanos is the one to speak first, his voice quiet and low.

–You did good, but you couldn't have done anything else– his rival is unable to maintain eye contact with him, as if he was afraid Daniil would leave. 

–I’m not a clairvoyant, you know? Uhm… This is… I don't know how to say it…– Stefanos finally sits in his bed and Daniil follows his lead, leaving the bag on the floor.

The taller man is still quiet, he doesn't know what to ask in a way that would clear any of his doubts, so he lets Stefanos speak, though he is having trouble.

–I’ve lived this Australian Open… Six times counting this one– He finally blurts out, making eye contact with Daniil– And every time you've beaten me, you've gone to lose to Rafa from two sets up. It has been… Painful to watch.

Stefanos clears his throat and holds his breath as he observes Daniil’s reaction.

On his side, Daniil is dumbfounded. Six times… He has lost six times to Rafa, same result, same draw, same everything. And Stefanos has been the only one to witness it; the only one with the knowledge, with the weight of being stuck. Alone. Daniil finally opens his mouth, completely stunned.

–Am I the first one to know?– Stefanos nods– The only one– Daniil sentences, and he nods again.

Daniil runs a hand through his face, exasperated, feeling every emotion in the spectrum. Now, he recalls strange dreams and feelings throughout this week, something familiar and tiring, something he wouldn't have given any thought into unless it was pointed out. Now, Stefanos has pointed it out, and he can remember… That he ran into Stefanos, but it wasn't this week, it was another week… In the same Australian Open. The younger man is looking at Daniil, as the gears start turning in his head; Stefanos looks guilty, small– Smaller than usual, at least, but it's more as if he was looking at a kid, a much younger and afraid Stefanos. Daniil has no words but he has doubts, different ones than before. Stefanos can see that, he believes he's having the same questions he once had, and the ones that he still has.

–I don't know how to get out but we have to do… Something together– his rival looks down to his feet– I tried to change my routines, my kit, but nothing seemed to work. Also, no matter how we play the result will always be the same. The second to last time we played… Though I don't think you remember, I tried to match your style, but it was all in vain– Stefanos looks back at him. He seems concerningly comfortable speaking about it, but there's a sense of defeat in his words. Daniil simply shakes his head.

–How?– He asks, but Stefanos shrugs.

–I’m really confused. I need time to think– Daniil concludes, but he has no intention of standing up. Stefanos nods but he doesn't know what to say or do.

–Have you always seen me play the final?– he nods again– Have I always played the same?

Stefanos shakes his head in disapproval.

–It doesn't matter, you still couldn't have won– Daniil clenches his jaw– But, I think it was last time that you changed. Uhm…– Stefanos clears his throat again– You were hitting more winners, so the match was slightly shorter.

Daniil nods and looks down to his feet; he truly cannot do anything about it. He is crushed, he’s done this six times but can only remember one, and he’ll have to keep losing until they find a way out. He’s had his back to back slam dream crushed six times. Six. His chest feels heavy, his head clouded and he’s utterly lost. He doesn’t know when it happened but his vision is blurry and his face is wet with tears. Daniil feels a hand run through his back, slowly but steady; comforting. He breaks down, head in his hands, as Stefanos pulls him closer. It doesn’t feel natural or familiar, but it feels strangely soothing. Stefanos keeps running his hand through Daniil’s back, though he’s quiet, he can feel a certain warmth coming from him.

When Daniil settles down, he quickly dries his face with the palm of his hands; he’s unable to face his rival, who he can tell is looking concerned. He should let Stefanos know that he’s alright, that he’ll be fine but, how is he supposed to speak to him when he has just seen him cry? And not only that, but he has comforted Daniil. He’s so embarrassed, he should probably go back to his room as soon as possible and prepare for a new week of the same thing. Daniil is confused as to how it works, but all he needs to know is that he will wake up and the date will be January 18th, once again.

–Daniil– Stefanos calls his name, hesitant. It feels odd– You should probably rest in your room, we’ll have time to discuss things… Tomorrow, or whenever you want– Stefanos is as clueless as Daniil is, so at least he’s not alone on this.

Daniil nods and stands up, grabbing his back. Stefanos stands up next to him, a pitiful look on his face, though it doesn’t feel mocking. He finally leaves his room to walk to his own, a floor below Stefanos’ and he’s feeling hollow– one more time. He hates it but he cannot sort it out at the moment, he will have to wait and work with Stefanos through whatever it’s happening.

Chapter Text

January 18th, Tuesday, 9:am

Stefanos wakes up with a weird feeling resting in his chest; he knows what happened yet he can't believe it. His mum was right, Danill was more… Understanding that he once thought– and Stefanos hates it. He has a slow morning before heading downstairs to have breakfast; he's careful, as if a wrong move would undo all the progress that Stefanos had made. When he meets with his father, he's far more relaxed than he has been in a while.

Breakfast and practice are done, only his match to finish his day. Stefanos is calm, knowing what will happen, knowing Daniil is on his side, knowing they can get out of this. They still have no clue what to do, but two brains think more than one– at least that's what his mum always says. Stefanos is confident that, with Daniil by his side, they can work through it. 

His first encounter at the Australian Open is over and he’s compulsively checking his phone. He knows he told Daniil that they could talk whenever he was ready, however he's anxious that his… Rival somehow forgot about what happened and Stefanos has to do it all over again. Truly, he doesn't think he can go through it all over again, having to talk to Daniil and make him believe that something is going on.

When he gets to his room, he sits down on his bed and writes the events of the day. Of course, nothing new happened, but it's the only thing that's keeping Stefanos sane. He writes about his worries and how he wonders things might go, though everything is unknown in a different way. He hopes to find a solution soon and he hopes to talk to Daniil, just to know if he remembers.

January 20th, Thursday, 9:am

Stefanos wakes up to a message from Daniil– he guesses it’s him, though he doesn’t have his phone number saved.

ill go to ur room after ur match is over

Stefanos doesn’t know what to say, so he just writes a quick okay and starts getting ready. His head is already clouded from the many thoughts running around. They have to talk, of course, but couldn’t they have done it in a café? Being in Stefanos’ room feels… Intimate, and he’s not sure he can have that type of connection with Daniil. They’ve been rivals since the beginning of their careers, their dynamics are already settled and now it has to be broken and rebuilt. Stefanos doesn’t know Daniil as a friend or as a person, he only knows him as a player and that’s a very different side of him– from what he’s been told. He’s a nervous wreck and he’s about to be very late, yet he stops himself to write down in his diary; it’s a quick entry that will surely be followed later in the day, but it’s enough to keep him grounded until then. Stefanos finally walks downstairs to meet with his father, who glares at him and tells him to be quicker next time. He nods, of course, and they go on to have breakfast.

After his day is over, after he has made it to his room and changed his clothes, Stefanos writes back to Daniil– this time actually saving his phone number. He starts typing but deletes it a few times, unsure of what to say, how to say it, and he ends up staring at his phone. Stefanos was brave before, approaching Daniil in a much more awkward regard, why isn’t he able to do this, then? It should be considerably easier and faster. He takes a deep breath before typing again, a very short message.

im here come when ur ready

He almost regrets sending it when, a few minutes later, he hears a knock on his door. Stefanos stands up at the sound and goes to open the door. He faces a serious Daniil, opposed to the shyer and nervous Daniil he saw last time. He lets him in, both men heading straight to his bed and they sit down, just like last time. Daniil looks more leveled, inspired, and Stefanos is looking at him curiously; he’s interested to know what his opponent has reflected on, what his conclusion is and what his answer will be.

–I’ve been thinking about what you told me, but I wanna know first what you’ve tried– Daniil speaks. Stefanos nods, unsurprised, he was kind of expecting his rival to know first and talk later.

He stands up to grab his diary, a much easier way to explain things, and Daniil looks at him very analytically, as if trying to decipher his intentions. The curly haired man sits back down, opening the notebook on the third week.

–I’ve been keeping a diary for years now, but I only use it whenever I'm feeling… Weird. It helps with my feelings– The younger man is caressing the sides of his journal, fidgeting– This is the third week, where I was sure I was losing my mind.

Daniil tries to read the pages and he, very obviously, is faced with pages full of Greek. He looks back up to Stefanos, eyebrows knitted together, asking for some clarification.

–I first tried to talk to my dad, but obviously it didn’t help, so I decided to try with Andrey– Stefanos’ eyes scan the page– It also didn’t work. I tried to… Do it myself and not rely on anyone, but…– He flips the pages until he's faced with the number 5– During the fifth week I ran into you, a few times.

–It never happened before– Daniil replies and Stefanos nods.

–Why didn't you say something earlier?– He tries not to be pointy, but this situation is upsetting him.

–I wanted to be sure, I couldn't afford to make a mistake– Stefanos replies colder; he's the one who has endured all of this alone, he cannot understand why Daniil became so upset.

The taller man sighs and looks at the diary, he doesn't want to face Stefanos.

–After that… You waited another week to talk to me– the younger man shakes his head, he didn't really wait.

–When I realised it was you… It was already halfway through the week and we wouldn't have had any time for anything– He finally closes his diary and sets it aside– And I don't think you would've believed me, anyways. I had to make sure you would believe me. 

Daniil looks ahead for a second, assimilating his words, and he finally nods. The curly haired man is right, he needed the full week to understand that something was wrong and Stefanos had the answers.

–What do we do?– Stefanos shrugs– You gotta have an idea, at least– and he shakes his head.

–I was counting on you– It's a heartfelt confession, the first time the younger man has been so honest during the Australian Open.

Daniil stares at him, speechless; whatever answer he was looking for, he didn’t expect Stefanos to rely on him. He holds his breath for a second, considering every option possible, keeping in mind everything that he has been told. Given that leaving is not an alternative, they have to do something within their capacities, but would that involve their personal lives or the tournament?

–We have to work together, that’s all we know, right?– Stefanos nods– What are we not doing together?– Daniil asks, as if the answer wasn’t ‘everything’.

–Uhm… I don’t know, we just saw each other during our match, so pretty much everything– Stefanos is confused as to where Daniil is going with this, but he must trust that he will be right.

–Then, let’s see each other every day, for breakfast, lunch and dinner– They're both equally confused, but they have to start somewhere, even if that somewhere is rather unhinged– That way we can have more time to figure things out.

–Wouldn’t that be difficult to explain? I mean, what do I even tell my dad? That we’re friends now? He won’t buy it– Stefanos is nervous, and rightfully so, considering how strict his father is.

–I’ll just tell Gilles that I want to eat on my own– Daniil shrugs.

But it’s not that easy for me, Stefanos thinks as he looks away.

–Right…– He nods, hesitantly– I'll see what I can do.

January 22nd, Saturday, 9:am

Stefanos is nervous, very nervous, and he keeps pacing around the room like a headless chicken. Daniil is already waiting for him downstairs– probably, Stefanos guesses he’s not one to have a late breakfast. His backpack is halfway done, his clothes are scattered around his room and he needs to head to the restaurant now. He changes as quickly as possible and prepares everything that he needs for the day. Stefanos will probably run into his family, who will question him– again— about having breakfast separately; he’ll answer like he did before, he’s feeling overwhelmed so he wants some time away. Then they’ll see him with Daniil and they will begin to question him. He is regretting every decision that has led up to this moment.

When Stefanos finally walks out of his room, he takes a deep breath, he needs as much encouragement as he can get. He knows he should be wanting this; a change, a chance to break free, but to go behind his family? It’s killing him. He's aware of his steps, of his surroundings, of himself; he's just… Aware. Finally, he arrives at the restaurant, a certain pair of eyes already looking at him. Stefanos is tense, Daniil can clearly tell, so it's a very awkward moment. His rival nods and starts walking to the tables, Stefanos simply follows. He takes a deep breath, one more time, and sits in front of Daniil. There’s a brief moment where they lock eyes, the younger man wants to claim that it's uncomfortable or stressful, but seeing Daniil in such a calm manner, feels rather… Serene. Stefanos begins to eat, he cannot think of anything to talk about, and he feels uncomfortable making small talk. They're not doing this to become friends, they're doing this to leave Melbourne. However, the older man clears his throat, lowering his cutlery.

–So… It's gonna be a good run for you, huh? Until I, well, beat you– Daniil avoids eye contact, regretting his words, and Stefanos finds it endearing.

–I mean, yeah, making it to the semi is good– He replies calmly.

They're both quiet again, trying to find how to follow the conversation, until Stefanos speaks again.

–We don't really have to talk, you know? It’s alright, I know we're not friends– He's honest, resigned and sad, deep down. But it's the undeniable truth. 

Daniil stares at him, wheels turning in his head, and he shakes his head.

–We can't see each other every day and not… Talk. I mean, obviously we can, but I don't want to do it– There's a sternness in his voice that makes Stefanos agree with him, even if he doesn't want to– We don't need to become friends, either, but we're gonna work together. Keep that in mind, Stefanos.

Stefanos the so-called ponders.

He replies with a shy nod, looking down at his food. He's timid, he can't explain it but this feels deeply personal, all of a sudden.

After the breakfast is over, they go separate ways to have practice. Stefanos finally meets with his father, who doesn't look happy but keeps quiet. His morning is alright, besides the fact that Daniil is in his head and he's feeling odd. Not good, not bad, just… Weird. With Daniil by his side he won't be alone anymore, which he's thankful for, but they say it's better to be alone than have bad company, right?

Stefanos is really unfocused for the rest of the day, or at least, until he has to have lunch and becomes nervous again. He's going to meet with his rival and he’s anguished; he wants to be happy, or relaxed at least, but he's unable to. He’s in the restaurant, just like this morning, except now he's waiting for Daniil. Stefanos is staring down at his feet, mind empty, chest heavy, when he feels someone towering over him. He looks up, meeting a pair of hazel eyes and they walk inside to have lunch, not a word spoken. They sit down, food in front of them, and the younger man knows there’s another conversation incoming.

–How was practice today?– Daniil asks hesitantly.

–It was fine, my dad was really quiet but I expected it– he shrugs, it's not something out of the ordinary anyways.

–Because… You weren't with him?– Stefanos half nods half shrugs, something seemingly normal for him.

–Right.

The conversation dies again, just like this morning, though it feels awkward this time– more awkward. Daniil isn't sure how to follow and Stefanos is looking down at his food, as if protecting himself.

–Your father… He's always coaching you during matches– it's not really a question, yet the curly haired man nods– Do you let him?

–Uhm…– Stefanos is taken aback, that was a sudden change, but he totally gets where Daniil is coming from– Not really… He just does it. 

Now, the taller man is the one surprised. Apostolos just coaches him? No previous conversation, no mutual agreement? Daniil is so perplexed that he doesn't know how to reply. And seeing his silence, Stefanos panics and metaphorically sinks into his chair as much as possible. It seems like every time he speaks the conversation becomes uncomfortable, so he's going to keep quiet.

Lunch time is over sooner than later and they part ways, until they meet again for dinner, and Stefanos is regretting his decisions. Daniil wants to talk to him, for reasons unknown to him, and it’s making their meals incredibly uncomfortable. The younger man cannot bear another awkward meal, though his rival seems like he won’t stop trying to get to know him. At the moment, he will have to focus on his match, which will be a four setter, and just keep living through his day.

During his encounter, Stefanos feels extremely distant from his father, who’s barely giving him any notes or coaching at all. It’s very unnerving, he’s so used to having his father’s voice drilling in his head that the silence is deafening. Stefanos gets by fairly easily, his game strong as ever, and he celebrates with a fist in the air.

After his duties are all over, he goes back to his room to leave his backpack there. He decides to journal his day, writing more about his feelings than the events of the day. Seeing the words on the paper grounds him, understanding that he’s not going insane and that this situation concerning Medvedev is indeed strange. He quickly finishes writing everything down and walks downstairs, on his way to meet Daniil for the third time this day. It’s the last time of the day and he’ll finally be able to rest.

At last, they meet, both players arriving at the same time and greeting one another with a nod. They walk inside quietly, though this time feels comforting, and they sit down facing each other. Stefanos is considerably calmer now that he has written down his feelings, perhaps dinner will be a better time than breakfast and lunch. Just like the previous times, Daniil is the one to speak first.

–Congrats on your match– He speaks sincerely.

–Thanks, you too– Stefanos nods.

–I have a question– his rival speaks and the younger man pulls his attention from his dish and up to Daniil– Since you’ve played… Many times all of these matches, do you know exactly how each player will play?

It’s a really good question that Stefanos had to experience first hand. He takes some time to think how to word it, but the short answer is ‘no’.

–It’s a bit complicated, but no– Daniil seems surprised at the answer so he’s attentive– The thing is that, since I don’t play the same, they also don’t play the same. There have been times that I have purposefully played badly and their level has dropped too. But if I try to play better, they play better as well. It’s like the score has to stay intact. 

There’s a brief silence, as his rival is processing all this information. Stefanos understands better than anyone how he’s feeling, what he’s thinking, and that it is really, really, complicated. He hears a sigh from the other side of the table, a sigh that Stefanos has let out before, and the outside perspective is really making him feel miserable. He has been so solitary for so long, trying to get by, and Medvedev is making him see everything in a different light simply by reacting to the situation like he once did.

–It doesn’t make sense– Daniil is frustrated, and rightfully so, it truly doesn’t make any sense.

–I know– Stefanos replies and he has the urge to apologise. He’s not entirely sure why, but he feels guilty.

–I don’t wanna lose again– it’s a confession; earnest, heartfelt, raw. The curly haired man is taken aback, another change in conversation yet he did not expect it to go this way.

–You will, but this won’t be the end. You’re a top player, you’ll get back on track– Stefanos cannot believe he’s… Praising the older man, and he knows he’s doing the shittiest job about it.

The conversation fades away and they finish dinner in silence. However, Stefanos feels guilty; the type of guilt that boils slowly and rots inside; the type of guilt that he felt when he was younger; the type of guilt that has driven his father away. As they head for the door, Daniil turns to him, a shy look on his face.

–Do you wanna go for a walk?– The younger man looks at him, possibly pouting, and replies with a small nod.

So, this time, they don’t part ways and start approaching the hotel lobby to leave. Stefanos is not really in the mood to do anything, just go to his room and lay in bed– falling asleep is optional today. He’ll go out with Daniil, to clear his head perhaps, but if his rival is expecting to have a conversation he surely won’t get one.

As they start wandering through the streets of Melbourne, the familiarity of the streets shakes Stefanos out of his sorrow and he turns. Daniil follows, slightly surprised, but doesn’t question it; he’s never seen the city– well, besides the tournament, anyways, so he’s happy that the younger man does seem to know where they’re going.

–They make good coffee there, we could go in some day– Stefanos murmurs as he points with his head to the café on the other side of the street. 

His rival turns his head, looking at a small café. It's closed, of course, but it seems cozy. Daniil will admit it, he's not a big coffee drinker, but it won't hurt him to try it. As they walk past it, Stefanos' mood deflates again; he wishes he wasn't stuck in such a situation. Daniil notices the change but he's not entirely sure how to act; to him, Stefanos has a quirky and upbeat personality, so seeing him so low is completely out of his reach.

–Who will you be playing next?– Daniil asks, unsure.

–Fritz, if I'm not mistaken– Stefanos replies, monotone. He will absolutely hate the next match.

–Oh… Well, you should be fine, right?– the taller man adds, trying to cheer him up, little does he know he's entirely wrong.

–I mean, I'll win but it's going to be a long one… My dad will be mad– and the younger man is almost immune to his father's anger, but a seventh fight because of the same match is heavy to carry even for him.

Daniil stays quiet, again, he cannot believe Apostolos would treat his own son like that. He gets that he's also his coach, however that's not an excuse to be so demanding.

–Can we go back now? I'm tired– Stefanos is drained so his voice comes out very quietly, but if he wasn't so tired, he probably would have whined.

Daniil quickly nods, but just as quickly, he speaks again.

–I’ve been thinking about it– he starts– that if what we’re doing doesn’t work, we should have a backup plan.

There’s a faint hum coming from Stefanos, an attempt at a reply.

–I mean, I've had some ideas but you already tried it, so I should keep thinking– Daniil stumbles over his words, he has not been thinking about it as he's determined to make it work.

Stefanos nods slowly, he doesn't have enough energy to reply. Daniil feels for him, he looks like he just finished a marathon, physical and emotional, and the taller man has no idea as to how to make things better. He looks ahead as they’re arriving back at the hotel, but the older man can tell that he did an awful job trying to cheer Stefanos up. They’re stuck together in Melbourne, but Stefanos has been stuck for way longer, alone, and Daniil isn’t being helpful– or so he thinks.

They finally get to the elevator, the two of them going to their respective rooms, and Daniil hopes he’s doing the right thing; he wants his plan to work out, to get Stefanos– to get both of them out of here. Also, he hopes he’s not coming off as harsh or unapproachable, though they’re not friends, the taller man wouldn’t mind to bond with Tsitsipas.

The lift stops and Daniil looks up, seeing that they’ve arrived on the third floor. He pats Stefanos in the back before he leaves and he cringes at himself when the door closes; he shouldn’t have done that. He finally gets to his room, with more doubts than ever, but he’ll have to sleep it out, as he has no answers.

January 24th, Monday, 9:am

Stefanos rolls out of bed with a clear mind, something about this day seems particularly cheerful; it shouldn’t, and it won’t, but he feels happy. It might be delusion, or delirium, from being stuck for so long, but he doesn’t care, as long as he’s not utterly devastated he’ll take anything else. He makes his way downstairs to meet with Daniil, who’s already waiting for him, and he walks up to him in a considerably happier mood than last time they saw each other.

–Do you wanna go to the café you told me the other day?– The taller man asks and Stefanos vaguely remembers it, but he nods and they walk outside of the hotel.

It’s a sunny day and the younger man loves it; he loves the warmth of the sun, the heat in his skin, the faint breeze that paints the city. Today will be a better day. Daniil, on his side, is not particularly fond of the summer, but there’s not much he can do about it, and he’s the one who proposed going out.

–What type of coffee do you like?– Stefanos asks, initiating a conversation. Daniil is taken aback, not expecting the question or even a chat, so he panics and lies.

–Black with three sugars– He doesn’t like black coffee, he doesn’t know why he said that, but he’ll have to stick with it from now on.

–Nice. I usually like a cappuccino, but sometimes I have a flat white– the shorter man speaks cheerfully and Daniil is relieved, not that he had been compulsively thinking about it, but he got slightly worried.

They get to the café and order breakfast, both asking for their desired coffee orders, and sit at the back of the place, one in front of the other. Stefanos is talking and Daniil is listening, opposite of the previous day, and it feels natural. Apparently, having a chat with your rival who you once hated, is actually comforting. It’s almost as if they've always been friends, the way the conversation flows.

–Do you think this will work? I mean, I want it to work but, do you think we might be wrong?– Stefanos doesn't want to bring the mood down, but he has doubts, much like Daniil. His rival takes some time to answer.

–Only time can tell if we're wrong, but I hope we aren't– the taller man seems a bit deflated, he has a lack of faith in himself that he hasn't felt in a while. 

–We’ll try again and we'll get out of here– Stefanos speaks with conviction. There's no other way for them, no easy way out, and they have to keep moving forward.

Daniil nods and keeps quiet, finishing his breakfast. The roles are reversed and Stefanos is now the one in need to cheer him up. He doesn't want to say anything that will upset Daniil but he doesn't want to let the conversation end like that.

–Daniil– he starts– we will be okay. We have each other, so if anything goes wrong, we won't be alone– Stefanos can see some faith coming back to Daniil’s eyes, but he doubts it's enough.

However, it will have to work for the moment, as they have to go and have practice with their respective coaches; some duties mustn't be broken.

After practice, there's lunch and very few words are spoken. They're both focused and the curly haired man has a lot on his mind, as he has to take on a five setter and his father's attitude. On his side, the taller man will play a somewhat easier four setter. Though, easier is not quite the word, Daniil probably won't be scolded by Gilles after the match.

Finally, both encounters are done; Stefanos leaves the stadium with a sour mood while Daniil leaves with a lighter one. They meet up, showered and fresh clothes on, one with a frown on his face, the other with a relaxed expression. They make their way into the restaurant and sit on the back, facing each other. They are quiet, as Stefanos seems rather volatile at the moment, only the noise from the cutlery breaks the silence between. Until the younger man decides to speak.

–I don't even know how my father can be mad– he huffs– I do everything he wants and he's still angry, I don't get it.

Daniil knows better than to speak, as he has two older sisters who would always complain to him, so he simply nods.

–It’s infuriating. And I never talk back, either, that's Petros– Stefanos frowns– It doesn't even matter, he's not gonna change.

He concludes, shaking his head and sighing. On the other side of the table, curious eyes look at the younger man. He has many questions, and more than for Stefanos, they're directed to Apostolos. Daniil doesn't know what to say, and perhaps that's the best thing he can do right now, as he can still see Stefanos fuming.

The end of the dinner is considerably calmer, and they make small talk. They finally get up and head for the lift, ending his day and going back to their rooms. Stefanos takes a look at Daniil, he's still surprised that they're getting along.

–I’m sorry for lashing out earlier. I was—

The curly haired man can't finish his sentence as the taller man cuts him off.

–It’s okay, I understand. But it surprises me that… Uhm… You let your father treat you like that– Daniil isn't sure how Stefanos will react, so he's hesitant as he speaks.

Stefanos becomes shy, feeling particularly small, and he doesn't know what to tell Daniil. Perhaps he's right, perhaps he shouldn't let Apostolos treat him like that, but that's his dad and he can't do much about it. He shrugs and, thankfully, the doors of the lift open. They walk inside, not a word spoken, and they simply go back to their rooms.

As Stefanos is getting ready to go to bed, he writes down what Daniil asked him. He has no answer for him, however, he might figure something out as the days go on. It's not Daniil's fault, so he hopes he doesn't feel guilty, maybe he should open up more to him, so they can understand each other better. Just because they have to work together, of course, no other reasons involved. He sighs and leaves his diary in his nightstand, the day has been too long for his liking and Stefanos wants to rest as much as possible. 

January 26th, Wednesday, 9:am

There’s still one more match left before the semifinal and Stefanos is vigilant of his actions, of his matches, of Daniil. They should be discovering soon if anything is truly changing, or if what they’re doing is all in vain. Today, however, he will be playing Jannik, an easy match, and he cannot wait to savour the victory. Stefanos gets ready and heads downstairs, absent minded. He has a very lazy breakfast with his rival, some small talk here and there but nothing substantial. He likes his new routine, though he won’t admit it, as it allows him to be more carefree.

Practice and match are done. It hasn’t been an eventful day, which Stefanos is grateful for, and now he’s going to have dinner, perhaps Daniil will have something interesting to tell him. He walks downstairs, calm, and waits for his rival to arrive. Daniil takes a bit, but the curly haired man doesn’t mind waiting for him, though if it was his brother he’d be calling him already to scold him. Finally, a lanky figure appears in the lobby and both players walk into the restaurant to have dinner. They take a seat, food in front of them, and there’s no need to have a chat, but Daniil does enjoy it, so he speaks.

–Easy day for you, right?– Stefanos nods and gives him a shy smile– I wanna say the same but Felix was great today.

–Yeah, I know– he replies, teasing him a little bit– You know, besides the final, I never got to see any of your matches.

Daniil is surprised but replies with a sided nod, they don’t really have much time to watch the other players, unless you’re already out of the tournament.

–I mean, it was fine, I won– the taller man is hesitant to continue, but there is something he wants to discuss– I don’t know how to feel about our next match– he states, unsure of how Stefanos will react.

–I’ve accepted what will happen and it’s okay, we can’t do much about it, but I’m more worried about my father than anything else– Daniil nods, remembering everything that Stefanos told him about Apostolos.

–It shouldn’t be this way. You shouldn’t be more worried about him than about a match. Like, I know in this case it’s useless to care about the result, but this is not a one time thing, right?– The younger man shakes his head and looks down at his plate. He’s right, it’s not a one time thing and it should not be this way, but what else can Stefanos do?

–It’s not your fault, you know? Some days you win and some days you lose, it’s part of the process. You shouldn’t get scolded for losing.

It’s not my fault, Petros told me the same, then why does it feel like it? Stefanos doesn’t reply, he doesn’t know what to say.

They stay quiet until they finish dinner, a weird feeling in the air, even weirder inside their chests. Stefanos doesn’t want the conversation to end like that, he wants to say something else, but nothing feels right. Daniil is feeling the same, and no words seem to come out of his mouth either. When they ultimately walk out of the restaurant, Stefanos talks, though he’s unsure of where he’s going.

–Do you ever have problems with Gilles?– there’s a moment of hesitation, neither of them know if they should stay in the lobby or walk out, and it's the curly haired man the one who takes the lead and heads towards the door.

–Sometimes, but nothing we can’t talk about later, you know? It’s obviously not a perfect relationship but we can work through it– Daniil replies as he follows Stefanos– Are we going for a walk?

The younger man replies with a nod as he looks to the sky. It's a quiet night; it's Wednesday, so almost everyone is working the next day, but Stefanos likes the stillness of it. He looks back at Daniil, a melancholic look in his eyes. The older man returns the look, trying to decipher what Stefanos is thinking, but he seems more cryptic than before.

–I’m glad you found Gilles, he treats you well– the curly haired man speaks honestly and Daniil is surprised.

He replies with a nod as they mindlessly walk around the city.

There's no need to talk anymore, they're enjoying the view and each other’s company. The stroll is longer than their previous one, much more carefree, too. There's a soft breeze hitting Melbourne, and the sky is clear; though they cannot see the stars, they shine bright above them, guiding them into a path they have yet to find. Daniil glances at Stefanos, and he finds him relaxed, for once. He's not entirely sure why he's so calm, given how the conversation went, but it takes a weight off his shoulders.

When they ultimately walk back to the hotel, the streets are nearly empty. It feels freeing, knowing they can be walking under Melbourne's bright streetlights and no one will notice them. Stefanos smiles to himself then looks at Daniil.

–We should do this more often. It's nice.

The taller man replies with an honest nod.

–We should.

January 28th, Friday, 9:am

It's the semifinal day; only Daniil and Stefanos know what will happen, and even with the knowledge, it will be a tough match. It will be more mentally challenging than physically tiring, but tough nonetheless. Stefanos walks downstairs with low expectations and a nasty feeling in his chest; his father will be mad at him, very mad, he cannot tolerate it anymore.

He meets Daniil in front of the restaurant, like usual, but the taller man starts walking outside, to the café, Stefanos guesses. He follows, no questions asked, and he's surprised there's not a conversation today. They are both experiencing the same things at opposite sides of the spectrum, and Stefanos is afraid to voice his concerns. He's sure Daniil must be tired of his constant whining.

They enter the café and order coffee. They sit at the very end of the place, quietly, one in front of the other. Daniil looks serious while Stefanos is a nervous wreck. The tension can be cut with a butter knife and the younger player is terrified to speak up. He takes a small sip of his cappuccino, as he doesn’t know what to do with his hands nor does he know what to say. Finally, Daniil speaks first.

–I’m gonna win, we both know that, but I don’t know how that will affect things, considering it’s the first time I know about the result– Stefanos nods, intimidated by his rival’s stern nature.

–I’m… I’m nervous– they both knew this, but verbalising it makes him ease his worries– And… Well, I wanna apologise before hand—

Daniil cuts him off, shaking his head and glaring at him.

–It’s your father who should shut up and apologise, not you– he sounds angrier this time, and Stefanos sinks into his chair.

The taller man notices the shift, now facing a small Stefanos, like the one he saw after his final, his sixth final to be precise. He feels guilty as he didn’t want to upset the curly haired man, but he’s not sure what to say to make things better.

–I’m sorry– Stefanos apologises again– I know it’s him but… You also have to put up with my dad. It’s not fair to you.

Daniil is extremely taken aback. He cannot believe how inferior Stefanos seems whenever issues with his father are brought up. He stays quiet for a second before he winces, his stomach twisting at the sight of the shorter man being so vulnerable. Stefanos looks down at his cup, fidgeting with it.

–I feel like we always talk about the same things, anyways. I don’t wanna like… Pull you away, we must do this together. Can we… Forget everything and, like, talk about something else?

It’s painful for Stefanos to talk about his father in a negative light, especially because he’s the reason the player is so alone in the tour, but now he has Daniil– rather, he’s forced to have Daniil by his side, and he doesn’t want him to ruin his plans, again. His rival nods, though Stefanos can’t see him, and changes the topic.

–How did you get into photography?– he asks, tentatively.

The curly haired man looks up, a kinder expression in his face.

–I’ve always liked looking at landscapes, but they never last forever, so I decided to take pictures. Then, I learned a bit about composition and such, which led me to buying a good camera and it just… Happened, you know?– Stefanos’ voice is softer, calmer, which helps clear the tension between them.

The conversation continues peacefully, each of them knowing more about the other. They are surprised about their likings and dislikings, things they shared and things they didn’t, and they are surprised at how easy it is to like one another. Of course, their disputes during matches never helped to form a bond, but now that they have a common objective, that they can sit down and chat, it’s almost as if it was meant to be.

The day goes by faster than Stefanos would want; he doesn’t want to face Daniil after all they have been through in the past week and a half. Both players have formed a bond after talking every day, Daniil has told him so many things that no one ever has, while Stefanos has opened up about topics he has never wanted to. This match feels like it’s going to break all they have built and the Greek player is more anxious than ever. Before their encounter, Stefanos debriefs with his father, who can tell he’s having a hard time. Apostolos put his hand on his son’s shoulder, heavy, comforting. Stefanos takes a deep breath to calm down and focus on his semifinal.

The match goes as it should. No surprises on either side, though both players face the encounter in a very different light from the previous ones. Of course, Stefanos had accepted his defeat, but those talks with Daniil made him think; however, his rival has had to understand many things at once, and the match that was his breaking point the last time they faced each other, is now a breakthrough. It’s a different atmosphere, in the stadium and on court, as the emotions surrounding them have changed.

This time, Apostolos coaches his son considerably less, which leads Daniil to be more focussed on his opponent. Stefanos, slightly unnerved, plays erratically at times; not because of the lack of coaching, because the curly haired player can overcome problems on his own, but because he’s missing a certain pressure that he’s so used to feeling, and now he has to deal with different things.

Each game goes slightly different than others, quicker ones, slower ones, deuces where they’re not supposed to be. Stefanos is aware of it, he knows how the match goes by heart, he knows how each point should go. Nonetheless, given that they’re both aware of the situation, the match is more organic and less planned out. The sets stay intact, one set to Stefanos, three to Daniil, and the score has barely changed; the younger player is supposed to lose his second set 6-4, however, his rival manages to break him a second time, taking the score to a 6-3. It all ends in a 6-1, like every other time, and both players walk up to the net for a handshake.

Daniil stays on court to give his interview and Stefanos leaves, bags on his shoulders, thinking about his relationship with Daniil and where they stand. He talks briefly with his father, then he does his post match duties, and finally leaves to go to his room. He’s supposed to have dinner with the taller man, though Stefanos is unsure his rival will want to celebrate with him. It might be awkward to celebrate with the person you’ve just defeated. When he’s in his room, Stefanos grabs his diary to write down his emotions and the new score of this match; it is only new to Stefanos, as everyone seems to think that this is all the first time the Australian Open happens, but it is Stefanos’ seventh time. He gets lost in his thoughts, nose in his journal, when he hears his phone vibrating; he’s getting a phone call, he thinks it might be his father or even Petros, but it’s Daniil. Stefanos doesn’t pick up, and instead, sends him a message.

ill be down in five

He changes into casual clothes as quickly as possible and finally heads downstairs. Daniil is waiting for him, an undecipherable expression on his face, and Stefanos awkwardly walks up to him. The older man walks outside and the curly haired one follows; they’ve never had dinner in an outside restaurant, but there’s always a first time for everything, Stefanos thinks. The silence between them is cold, both holding back their thoughts, but Daniil is set on his route to the restaurant so Stefanos keeps quiet. They arrive at a fancy place, hidden between two skyscrapers; it’s not crowded yet they still walk to the back, covered from the public eye. They sit down in front of one another, Stefanos avoiding eye contact, protecting himself.

–Stefanos– Daniil calls– What is it?

The so-called looks up, shy, fidgety, and he’s not sure what to tell him, so he shrugs.

–This match, it doesn’t change anything, it’s just another step.

–Then why does it feel like it?– his voice is low, filled with anger and sadness.

Daniil is taken aback, breaking eye contact with Stefanos; he doesn’t know what to say to make things better, but it’s not as if he wanted him to lose.

The food starts arriving at the table, filling the awkward silence between them. It feels like a huge step backwards, like the first time they shared a meal together, and Stefanos feels guilty. He shouldn’t have said anything, he’s always screwing their conversations and making feels worse and—

–I didn’t want you to lose and we both knew what was gonna happen, right?– Daniil speaks softly, shyly, initiating the conversation once again. 

–Yeah… But I didn’t think it would go like it did– Stefanos is scared to say anything else, so it leaves his words to Daniil’s interpretation.

–How did it go?– the taller man asks earnestly.

There’s a small silence as Stefanos thinks about how he’s going to word his answer.

–Different. We both knew this time, and my father didn’t, of course, but he also acted differently. The score also changed, and there were deuces in games where it shouldn’t have. I wasn’t ready for my dad to change, it was very weird, and then… I don’t know, it felt like the end– Daniil listens carefully and frowns at his words.

–The end of what?– another honest question, but a more difficult one for Stefanos.

–This– he gestures at the table, and them, and vaguely in the air.

The Russian player tilts his head to the side, frowning.

–We can’t do this alone, so I wouldn’t… Leave even if I wanted to.

Silence, again, and Stefanos looks down at his food. It looks nice, warm, though it is unappetising to him at the moment. Stefanos should eat something, say something, yet he’s frozen. I wouldn't leave even if I wanted to, keeps replaying in his head. What does that mean, anyways. The Greek player begins eating, in autopilot, he's not even tasting the food and he couldn't tell you what he asked for.

The second dish arrives, both players still in silence. Stefanos is constantly frowning, he's upset at… Everything, mostly himself, and has no desire to speak. Daniil is quiet, understanding that his rival needs some space, but he feels restless; he wants to make things better, to say anything that would cheer Stefanos up, but he can't come up with anything. The air surrounding them doesn't feel awkward, it’s rather tense and sad, as the result of the match was unsatisfying for both of them. Daniil feels more hopeful, but Stefanos is stuck and stuck and has been stuck for so long that he doesn't know what change feels like, so this whole Daniil thing is insanely strange to him.

The desserts come and Stefanos feels calmer; he’s not mad anymore, perhaps he was just hungry, or tired, possibly both. He looks up at Daniil, who’s looking down at his own dish, slightly unsatisfied. The curly haired man takes a small breath before speaking again.

–Do you wanna try mine?– he asks as he moves the plate slightly forward. The taller man looks at the offer, thinking, then back at his dish, and finally nods.

–You can also try mine, if you want to– Stefanos nods and they switch plates, each taking a bite of the dessert.

There’s a small moment of silence and hesitation coming from Daniil, staring at the dish for slightly too long. He finally looks back up, big hazel eyes staring at Stefanos. Without having to ask, the younger man sighs and nods, trading desserts with Daniil. It’s good that Stefanos is not a picky eater, because he really liked what he asked for, but given that he has been in a consistent bad mood for two weeks straight, he should pay Daniil back in some way.

When they ultimately leave the restaurant, both players feel completely at ease, making small talk and feeling a certain calm that only the night can bring. They start mindlessly walking around Melbourne, without getting too far from the hotel, exploring some streets they hadn’t seen before. Stefanos looks up to the sky and he’s faced with utter darkness, as the citylights make it difficult to see the stars; he knows they’re there, even if he can’t see them. He takes a deep breath then lowers his gaze to face Daniil.

–I know this hasn’t been easy, so thank you for… Sticking around.

January 30th, Sunday, 12:am

Stefanos wakes up and he’s already biting his nails, anxious; not for the match, not for the result, but because he wants to know if he will make it to February or if he will be stuck for another two weeks in Melbourne. He changes into comfortable clothes and meets Daniil for breakfast. It’s quiet, but it’s comforting for both of them, knowing they don’t have to speak and it will still be okay. Stefanos wishes Daniil good luck, knowing they won’t be able to share lunch together. The Russian player replies with a nod and a faint smile before leaving. If Stefanos wasn’t so caught up in… Well, everything he has been through, he would have felt his stomach twist at Daniil’s smile, but that will have to be a problem for another time.

Stefanos’ day is pretty boring, filled with nervousness and mindlessly scrolling on his phone. He spends some time re editing some pictures he took of Melbourne, but it’s minor details and he gets disinterested quickly enough. He has lunch in his room, watching whatever show they’re putting on the TV; he doesn’t care for it, but he doesn’t enjoy eating in silence. After his lunch is over, he grows anxious, he knows that however the final goes, it will determine if Daniil and himself will get out or if they will stay stuck in the Australian Open– yet again.

The time for the match finally arrives and Stefanos doesn’t even want to look at the TV. He will enjoy the match, like he did the previous six times, because he likes watching tennis, but there’s an expectation behind it that makes this whole final much more important. The ball is put in motion, jumping back and forth on court, and Stefanos’ world stands it; right now, it’s the match and nothing else– well, Daniil too, but he’s playing and he’s watching him.

Set starts going by, and Stefanos can tell that some games are going differently, so at least they got something right, but the overall result is staying nearly intact. Like their match, Daniil loses some games he shouldn’t have, as he loses the third set 6-3. Stefanos writes it down and starts thinking; does Daniil still have to lose the final so they can get out or will he achieve back-to-back Grand Slam titles? He wonders if the answer is to win or to change, he’s still not certain.

Daniil loses the fourth set 7-5, another change in the score, but he still loses the final set 7-5, ultimately missing his second slam. Stefanos turns off the TV, unable to face the defeat; he’s crushed for Daniil, and he can’t even fathom how the taller player is feeling. He waits for him, sending him a short message so he goes to Stefanos’ room and he continues writing down his thoughts.

A couple of hours later, Daniil knocks on Stefanos’ door; he’s greeted by a pout, which he takes as pity. They both sit on the bed, in silence, and right before the Greek man can speak, Daniil opens his mouth.

–I cannot believe I still lost. This was useless– he’s angry, of course, and Stefanos feels extremely guilty. He doesn’t reply, he just lowers his gaze to his feet and nods.

–I keep trying and I keep failing, what else am I supposed to do?– his voice breaks as he talks, as if he’s the only one doing this, as if he’s alone.

Stefanos looks up at him, stomach sinking, his heart racing. He knows the speech very well; how he has to carry the weight by himself, how he’s always wrong even when he tries to be right, how he can’t rely on anyone else. He pouts, again, this time fighting back tears. Daniil isn’t looking at him, his eyes are glued on the wall in front of them, but he can tell he’s also on the verge of crying.

–I understand how you feel. I’ve been there… All my life– Stefanos’s voice is small and thin, almost a whisper. They’re both very vulnerable, and it feels like the wrong move will set them off. 

The taller man sighs and drops his head, some tears falling down his cheeks. He shakes his head, crying. Daniil isn’t particularly sad, he’s rather angry at himself. He didn’t succeed– though it was his first time– and he feels worthless.

–We… We’ll be okay, I think. We’ll try again next week– Stefanos speaks louder this time, his voice shaking but he tries to keep it as steady as possible, he doesn’t wanna discourage Daniil.

–Why? What’s the point? We’re not gonna leave anyways, we have to accept that this is our life now and—

Daniil gets cut off by a pair of arms surrounding him. He’s stunned for a second, then he hugs Stefanos back, tightly. He clings onto the younger man’s t-shirt, shaking, tears streaming down his face. Daniil cries quietly while Stefanos caresses his back, also in silence. The curly haired man is having a hard time not crying alongside Daniil, but he has cried enough– or so he thinks– so now it’s his time to be strong and comforting for the taller man.

It takes a few long minutes for Daniil to calm down, yet he never pulls away from the hug. Like the previous time, he doesn’t want to face Stefanos after having cried in his shoulder, again. Of course, Stefanos doesn’t mind, he has been there and he understands how he’s feeling, but Daniil doesn’t know that. The older player takes a deep, shaky breath, then he feels a hand running through his hair, kindly, softly, tenderly. For a tennis player, Stefanos has surprisingly smooth hands. He hums, as he wants to talk but no words to speak.

–We will be okay, I promise you that much– the curly haired man speaks softly, in response to Daniil, and he can feel his head nodding in his shoulder.

–I should leave, tomorrow we have work to do– the older man talks, but he doesn’t sound so sure.

He pulls away from the hug and keeps his eyes glued to the floor; he doesn’t want to leave, but it would be too much to ask Stefanos to stay, besides where would he sleep anyways. Daniil finally stands up, and he’s followed by Stefanos, who puts a hand on his shoulder. He’s finding comfort in his rival in ways he couldn’t have imagined and Daniil is not sure how to process his emotions alongside everything else they've got going on. He ultimately goes to his room, dragging his feet, and sleeps safe and soundly, although he doesn’t seem to rest as much as he wants to.

Chapter Text

8

January 18th, Tuesday, 8:30am

Daniil wakes up with a mission in mind; he’s tired of playing by the rules and he’s tired of losing again, and again, and again. He gets ready, preparing his back and his clothes. He walks downstairs filled with anger, frowning and stomping. Daniil waits until Stefanos arrives; he’s usually late, or later than him as they never agreed on a time to meet, so he has time to think about what he wants to tell him. A few minutes later, a muscular figure appears in his range of vision, and he nods at Stefanos as they walk into the restaurant. As usual, they head for the back and sit in front of the other as Daniil begins to speak.

–I’m done with everything– he states and Stefanos frowns in confusion– There’s no rules to follow this time, just us.

The younger man takes a second to process his words, then he nods. He can tell Stefanos is hesitant but at least he’s on board. Breakfast continues quietly, neither of them have anything to say– well, Stefanos has many questions but he feels like they will get answered as the day goes by.

When they finally finish breakfast and leave the restaurant, the curly haired man is ready to part ways, yet Daniil stops him with a hand on his arm. He nods at him, as if telling him to follow, and Stefanos accompanies him. He walks behind Daniil, unsure of where he’s going. Quickly, he realises they’re going on court as he can see Gilles in the distance; whatever Daniil has in mind goes completely against everything he has been told. For what he can tell, Gilles is fine with having Stefanos practice with Daniil, even though they’re not scheduled together.

Before stepping out, Stefanos finally remembers that he does have a coach and that he should give him a call and tell him to come. He stops in the middle of the corridor as he grabs his phone from his front pocket. Both Daniil and Gilles stare at him, confused, same expression in both men’s faces; if Stefanos didn’t know better he could swear they are related. He calls Apostolos who is clearly unhappy, yelling at him through the phone so loud both player and coach can hear the conversation; it’s in Greek, of course, so they can’t understand anything, but whatever Apostolos is saying it’s surely not nice, as Stefanos’ face turns into a grimace. After the call ends, the younger man turns to them, seeming smaller than usual.

–Sorry, we will have to wait, my dad and Petros still have to get here and they’ll take like 10 minutes, more or less– his voice is shy and he’s unable to maintain eye contact with either of the men.

After a while, two figures appear at the end of the hallway, a taller one and a shorter one. Stefanos’ family, of course. The five of them walk out on court, the air surrounding them awkward and tense. As the players begin with practice, their respective coaches exchange some pleasantries, though they obviously don’t want to be there. Their time shared on court is odd; Daniil is particularly aggressive and focused, while Stefanos is trying to follow his lead. One of them clearly knows what they’re doing, while the other one is left clueless.

They end practice with some long rallies and both players end up exhausted. Apostolos finally approaches his oldest son, a sour expression on his face, and Stefanos knows what’s about to happen. Petros is far behind their father, looking everywhere but in Stefanos’ direction. Daniil stops as he’s grabbing his backpack to hear the conversation, even though he won’t be able to understand anything.

–What do you think you’re doing?– he’s accusatory, yet he tries to keep his vice down. Stefanos takes a second to reply, knowing that anything he says will turn into a bigger argument.

–Practice. Medvedev asked me to come, so I did– he replies calmly, too calmly, and it sends shivers down Petros and Daniil’s back.

There’s a long silence on court, everyone unable to move, until Apostolos finally sighs and walks away. Daniil approaches Stefanos, who seems completely unfazed, but the older man knows better. Still, there’s silence as Daniil doesn’t know what to say, that's when Petros shows up and begins talking.

–You know how he gets, it’ll be okay– his brother speaks English, expecting Daniil to join him and try to cheer Stefanos up. The taller man nods, thinking so he can find the right words.

–You did good, let’s go change– Daniil manages to say and Stefanos nods, grabbing his backpack and walking back inside.

He’s followed by his brother, by Daniil and by Gilles, who seems used to all this kind of nonsense. Stefanos is silent and Petros hates it, because he knows how his brother can get whenever he’s on bad terms with their father, so he starts to ramble about anything he can think about. Daniil is very curious about their dynamic, analyzing both brothers down to the smallest detail. He joins in every once in a while, when Petros goes quiet and fidgety, as if he has run out of topics. The oldest brother, however, is replying with monosyllables, nods and hums, and it’s making them worried. Personally, Daniil has never seen Stefanos so affected by anything; usually he pouts or makes himself smaller, but this time he feels cold and empty, Daniil can’t quite explain it.

When they finally get clean and changed, Stefanos looks calmer and sadder, which Daniil takes as a good thing because, that way, he knows how to act. The younger man is sitting and looking down at his feet as if he doesn’t want to leave. The older man sits by his side, he’s bad with words but he won’t let Stefanos be alone. There’s a sigh coming from him and Daniil prepares for a conversation, though it never happens.

During lunch, Stefanos seems considerably more talkative; he’s making full sentences, even if his tone of voice is monotone. Daniil feels guilty, he should’ve known how Apostolos would react after everything the curly haired man told him. He feels timid, he doesn’t want to upset Stefanos further and he wants to make things right. Before they finish eating, Stefanos looks up, a soft look in his eyes; Daniil knows they’re going to have some sort of emotional conversation.

–It’s not your fault, you know?– the younger man states, reading the older man’s mind– He… He’s just like that. Uhm… It’ll be okay next time.

Daniil looks down at his dish, shy, remorseful, feeling smaller than usual. Feeling like Stefanos.

–Daniil. I promise. It’s all good– the so-called looks up with big hazel eyes and Stefanos quiets down.

–I think I’m right in what we’re doing but… It also affected you. Maybe I should’ve—

He gets cut off by Stefanos, who shakes his head vehemently.

–The result would’ve been the same. It’s fine.

They finish dinner in silence, as they don’t need to speak anymore, and the ambiance feels much lighter than before. Daniil took a weight off his chest and Stefanos is in a better mood.

After both matches are over, they go and have dinner together. Daniil arrives earlier, as usual, and he has some time to reflect about his day. It was filled with mixed emotions, and while he does believe they’re on the right path, he knows he messed up with Stefanos. The younger man clarified that he wasn’t really at fault yet Daniil still feels guilty. He also thinks about his first match, which seemed easier than usual, but Daniil comes to the conclusion that he just might be getting used to playing Laaksonen. Finally, Stefanos arrives and they go inside the restaurant to eat. They’re both quiet but Stefanos is particularly twitchy, Daniil assumes that something happened in his match and will tell him about it.

Just as they’re starting to eat, the curly haired player takes a deep breath then looks up to Daniil with an oddly serious expression on his face. The taller man straightens himself; usually, Stefanos is shy or nervous, but this time he seems determined.

–What did you do during your match today?– the question is bizarre and his tone of voice doesn’t make it less intriguing. Daniil is quiet as he doesn’t know what Stefanos is talking about. 

–Do you realise you didn’t go on a tiebreak today?– and so it clicks; Daniil managed to break his opponent where he shouldn’t have to– We need to keep doing practice together.

The older man nods as he continues to eat. Everything is starting to work out, they just need to make sense of it. Daniil has many questions and so many more thoughts running through his head but he doesn’t know how to verbalise them. Stefanos gives him some time, as he knows knowledge is overwhelming, but they need to have a conversation about it so they can get out of Melbourne this time around.

After dinner, they walk out of the restaurant and to the street, as a late walk might clear their minds. Daniil is pensive, analysing his match as much as possible; he thinks about watching the highlights of it once they’re out, to see if he missed anything else, but he believes that, if he did miss something, Stefanos would have told him. He can rely on the younger man, he has proven himself to be very observant and methodical, so he can trust that all the news have been told. On his side, Stefanos is waiting to start the conversation but he doesn’t know if it’s the right time; he doesn’t want to overwhelm Daniil, he’s just really focussed and wants to be over with it as soon as possible. The taller man glances at him, reading his facial expression, and decides to speak.

–We’re on the right path– he states, calmly, softly, hopeful. Stefanos nods.

–We are– he replies conclusively, but as the sentence goes on, he becomes hesitant– But I was thinking if it will be enough, or if he should keep changing stuff.

There’s a moment of silence, Daniil taking his time to think and understand where Stefanos is coming from, and he nods.

–Just to make sure, we will change more things. Uhm… But I have no idea where to start, because last time it was useless– he states and doesn’t give Stefanos room to debate him, even though the younger man thinks he’s wrong, that what they did wasn’t useless. 

–I think we have to go against… What we believe is unchangeable, like practice, so we should continue with something along those lines– Stefanos is speaking quietly, nearly muttering, while Daniil looks up to the sky.

He can’t see the stars as it’s a cloudy night, and he wouldn’t be able to see them without the clouds anyways, but he believes the answer lies out there, somewhere hidden in plain sight. Daniil looks down to face Stefanos, who looks serious; it’s a much different sight of him and he likes it. Usually, the Greek player is in a mood, or really quiet, or lost, but he looks confident and steady and it makes Daniil… Happy. Maybe happy isn’t the word he’s looking for, perhaps he’s… Proud of him? He’s not entirely sure how he feels about it, but he knows it’s a pleasant feeling, so he’s not about to give much thought into it.

They keep walking for a while, in silence; it feels comfortable, they don’t have to speak to be at peace with each other. Stefanos seems focused, pondering about their options, and Daniil lets him, he trusts that he can come up with an idea. The later mentioned is enjoying the view; empty streets with a faint breeze surrounding them and the smell of petrichor in the air warning them of the upcoming rain. Neither of them seem to care that they’re about to get wet so they continue to wander around the city, getting lost between winding streets, as they start to feel the first drops fall in their faces.

–It’s raining– Stefanos warns unenthusiastically.

–Should we go back?– Daniil asks, but he’s hoping for a ‘no’.

The younger man doesn’t reply verbally and simply shakes his head, a soft smile on his face, and Daniil would be lying if that didn’t make him feel something– which he’s still not going to think about. As the rain becomes more intense, the air feels colder and the taller man regrets not carrying a jacket. He shives and puts his hands in his pockets; Stefanos notices and unconsciously moves closer to him. They’re walking really close, so close that, if Daniil didn’t have his hands hidden in his pants, they would probably be holding hands. Not that they would do it on purpose, anyway, it would just happen, right? Both of them are so close, so wet and cold and it’s late at night… It’s bound to happen, of course. The older man suddenly becomes shy and nervous as he tries to reassure himself that he doesn’t want to hold Stefanos’ hand but that it would happen– which are to completely different things, clearly.

They continue to get lost, so lost that they end up back in the hotel, damp and cold but relaxed… Happy. They’re happy they got to enjoy a moment of peace, a moment where everything seemed to connect and make sense; they’re finally seeing improvement, they’re seeing that they’re moving forward and it’s all clicking. Daniil is sad this day is coming to an end, not only for the discovery they made, but also because he was enjoying Stefanos’ company. It surprises him that, while they have opposite personalities, they can get along. Yes, get along, that’s what they do, nothing else.

As they get in the elevator, Daniil shivers again while drops keep falling from his face. The doors close and Stefanos puts one arm around him, rubbing his hand on his arm to keep him warm. It helps, mainly because Daniil’s face turns bright red, something he tries to hide by looking everywhere else but Stefanos’ direction, and the younger man also tries to hide a smile forming in his face. It’s not awkward, far from it, which only makes the taller man even more embarrassed. Is this what they’re supposed to be doing? Sure, they became friends during these weeks together, but are they supposed to be so close? The only person he’s so physically close to is Andrey, and that’s because they’ve been friends since they were children. Truthfully, he’s also known Stefanos for a really long time, but they were never friends. Daniil is overthinking it, he knows that, but what else should he do, given this is the first time they’ve been so close– well, besides the times he cried on Stefanos’ shoulder, because that clearly doesn’t count, of course.

–Take a warm shower when you get to your room– Daniil faintly hears Stefanos’ voice over his own thoughts so he turns to face him. They’re close, even though there’s enough space in the lift for them to be at a comfortable distance. The Russian player nods shyly.

–Wouldn’t want you catching a cold, now– the Greek player flashes him a smile, soft and tender and releases Daniil from his half hug.

–You, too…– he manages to mutter but he realises he sounded dumb, so he clears his throat to speak again– I mean, I also don’t want you to get a cold.

Stefanos chuckles and nods, opening his mouth to reply, but before he can say anything back, the elevator stops. It’s his floor so he’s supposed to get out and he gives Daniil a small pout, but it’s not like his usual ones; this one is slightly more playful, and it’s not particularly sad. Perhaps, Stefanos also enjoyed spending time with Daniil. The shorter man gives him a quick hug before returning to his room; Daniil stays still, everything happening too quick for him to react, and he’s left in the elevator with blushy cheeks and a weird feeling in his chest.

When he finally gets to his room, he quickly hops on the shower– warm, as Stefanos suggested– and he tries not to think about anything. Daniil’s had a very long day and he’s still thinking; his mind is mainly going towards practice, lunch, dinner and the walk, especially the walk. He had such a nice time and Stefanos was so close to him– not that it would matter anyway. The lift ride was… Something to remember, however he might want to think about it at another time, right now he should focus on resting. Ultimately, he gets out of the shower and changes into his pajamas, feeling more and more tired by the minute.

It was a nice day, now he needs to sleep and prepare for whatever fate has for him.

January 20th, Thursday, 9:am

Stefanos wakes up in a good mood, something he hasn’t felt in such a long time that now it seems weird. He prepares and gets dressed to have another odd day, but before he leaves his room, he reads his diary. His latest entry is long and detailed, perhaps focusing on the wrong moments; he wrote in length about Daniil, or rather, everything concerning him. He wrote about the match, about dinner and about their walk. Stefanos reassures himself by thinking about how different everything was so he had to put on record what happened. He will admit that it’s embarrassing to have written so much about the Russian player but he only wrote what was absolutely necessary.

When Stefanos walks downstairs, he finds Daniil waiting for him, head in the clouds, and he smiles to himself at the sight of it. When the taller man finally notices him, they walk inside the restaurant to have breakfast. Sitting in front of each other, they share some small talk and a few laughs. Mid breakfast, Stefanos receives several text messages, which he decides to ignore at first, but by the frequency of the notifications, he can tell it’s his brother, so he pulls out his phone and reads the messages. He sighs and rolls his eyes before answering, which gets a reply from Daniil in the form of a rising eyebrow. Stefanos looks at him as he puts his phone down.

–Petros. He wanted to know if I would be doing practice with you and I told him ‘yes’– he sounds inconvenienced, mainly because he knows it was his father asking through his brother.

–Speaking about practice, you said we should change something else, do you have anything in mind?– Daniil asks curiously and Stefanos stops to think.

–Uhm… I thought about some things but nothing really convinced me, so, not really– the curly haired man sounds apologetic and shy, embarrassed that he couldn’t come up with anything.

–Tell me. Maybe we can come up with something together.

There’s a moment of silence. Yes, Stefanos could tell him, but if everything is stupid how will that help? However… He does trust Daniil to turn his mess into a masterpiece, so he gives in and speaks again.

–I mean, I know this is gonna sound dumb but… I thought we might try different things with our game? We’re going to win our matches anyways, until you beat me and… You know, the final, so we don’t have to worry about butchering our matches, you know? But I also wouldn’t know where to start or what to change, so it’s kind of vague and—

Stefanos gets cut off, as Daniil nods and talks over him.

–It’s not dumb, we should try it– he agrees with him, easing every worry the younger man had.

–I was thinking we should also mention it to Gilles, I don’t think my dad would really agree on changing my game, I think– Stefanos speaks softly, a bit self conscious, and Daniil nods as he's beginning to understand the dynamic between Apostolos and his eldest son.

–Don’t worry, I’ll tell Gilles and he’ll figure something out.

They finish breakfast quietly and they walk out to court. Following them there’s Gilles, Apostolos and Petros; it feels less awkward than the previous time, yet both teams are still weirded out by their players as they never got along. Moreover, they’ve had several disputes over the years and they managed to get over it in, seemingly, no time. Petros knows something else has to be happening, as his older brother is prone to holding grudges, but he can’t figure out what might be happening, and he’s slightly scared of confronting Stefanos. Gilles, on the other side, trusts that Daniil will tell him if something is wrong, but if this is a new thing that he wants to do, he will allow it as he can rely on his player’s judgement.

Quietly, both Daniil and Stefanos walk up to Gilles, who appears pensive. Like they previously discussed, the Russian player is the one to bring up a change in their playing style. The French coach is surprised but agrees on it; clearly, he has an easier time with Daniil than he does with Stefanos, because he doesn’t know as much of Stefanos as he does of Daniil. They manage to achieve what they want to, to try new things, by their games. Both players maintained their techniques, as it would be nearly impossible to change it in such a short notice, but they helped one another to achieve the opposite style.

By the end of practice, everyone feels uncomfortable and tired; Daniil is not used to hitting such clean shots while Stefanos can’t quite comprehend the unorthodox game that Daniil created. Apostolos is disapproving of everything but bites his tongue for the sake of both his children. Lastly, Petros seems to be the most engaged out of the five men on court, mainly because he enjoys seeing his older brother making a fool of himself.

They finally make their way inside, both players to get clean and changed, and their respective teams get a moment to compose themselves after such a bizarre experience. Apostolos and Petros have a chat, in which the father is weirded out and trying his hardest not to yell at his son, while Petros is nodding to the words and agreeing with his father to keep the peace. Gilles removes himself from that situation as much as possible and waits for his player to come out so he can talk to him, then he’ll let Stefanos deal with his family.

During lunch, everything feels calm; both players are enjoying their meal and chatting peacefully. This time, there’s no tennis involved in the conversation which feels like breathing fresh air. Stefanos is always surprised to learn new things about Daniil, as they seem both fitting and unfitting for him. He will admit that the older man is a complex personality, however he feels very transparent when they speak. The curly haired man has to actively suppress a few smiles while the conversation flows, it would be rather odd to smile for no reason, right?

When they finally jump out on court, separately, they apply what they learned during practice and the matches evolve differently. On Stefanos’ side, he can manage to avoid both tiebreaks, but the sets stay intact; On Daniil’s side, he maintains the tiebreak but shortens the match into a three setter. Both players are proud to see changes happening so quickly and so effectively, they are definitely on the right direction and they cannot wait to see this nightmare end.

During dinner, after they've both processed their thoughts and emotions, it’s the perfect time to debrief the matches. Stefanos feels particularly excited, ready to tell Daniil every detail of his encounter. When he finally sees him waiting, a faint smile forms in his face and they both walk inside the restaurant, cheerfully. The curly haired man can't contain his excitement and begins talking before trying his food.

–Today was such a good day– he says with a smile on his face– For both of us. I saw you also managed to win in three sets instead of four.

Daniil nods, sharing Stefanos’ excitement.

–I did, and I saw you didn’t go on any tiebreaks this time– to which Stefanos also nods.

–I’m proud of you– Daniil says honestly and the younger man stops himself.

He’s not used to hearing that, from anyone really, so his stomach sinks and he has to hold back a grimace, but he feels a particular warmth in his chest. Stefanos can’t quite pinpoint what it is, but it feels pleasing. He looks down at his food for a second, then looks back up to Daniil, who’s staring back at him, confused.

–Thank you– the curly haired man speaks in a whisper, but he means it deeply.

The older man smiles at him and continues to eat; he wants to ask Stefanos about his reaction but he thinks it’s better to leave it be, perhaps he will find an answer soon.

Dinner follows smoothly with very little conversation and a calm ambiance surrounding them. When they finish eating, they leave the restaurant and Stefanos heads straight for the elevator. Daniil follows as he only enjoys walks when he has company, though he seems a bit confused since they like to go out after dinner. They stand silently in front of the elevator until the doors open and they walk inside. Stefanos looks up to Daniil and speaks, clearly reading the taller man’s face.

–I’m tired today, but we can go to the rooftop and have a chat there. If you want to, of course.

–Yes, of course I want to– he replies with a soft smile on his lips.

As the elevator goes up, Stefanos gets fidgety; they’ve done this quite a few times before so he’s not sure why he’s so nervous. The ride is finally over and they step out to the rooftop. It’s a surprisingly chill night– for Australian summer at least– so Daniil shivers when he feels the cool air caress his face. They head for the edge where they can see the city and it’s breathtaking; the dark sky above them contrasting with the bright neon lights below them. Stefanos pulls out his phone to take some pictures while Daniil observes. He smiles to himself as he enjoys seeing the younger man relaxed and carefree. The phone moves, pointing to the taller man and he tenses up; of course, he’s used to having cameras in his face but he doesn’t know why Stefanos would want a picture of him.

–Move a little to the left, it will look really nice– Daniil does as he’s told and he feels awkward.

Is he supposed to smile? Be serious? Pose? He stands still, waiting for more instructions, yet he can only see Stefanos laugh.

–Hey!– he calls out, holding back laughter.

–Sorry, sorry. Just relax, okay? You look good– the curly hair man speaks honestly and tenderly.

Daniil tries to soften up as much as possible and gives the camera a soft smile. Stefanos takes his time to get the perfect shot, then he walks up to the taller man and shows him the photos he took. Daniil is perplexed by the artistry; he hasn’t looked better before and it’s all because of Stefanos. He mutters a small ‘thanks’, suddenly becoming shy and the younger man replies with a smile.

When they finally sit down, they’re quiet, admiring the view. Only in a week, they managed to turn their life around and now they get to enjoy moments like this. Calm, happy moments.

–I like this. I never get to share quiet nights like this with anyone. Thank you– Stefanos speaks softly, looking at him, and Daniil blushes, though he’ll never admit it.

–I like it too– he manages to reply while he keeps his eyes ahead. The Russian player knows that if he looks at Stefanos. Well, he’d rather not think about it.

They spend a long while sitting down and chatting before deciding to go back to their rooms and finally going to sleep. It was a nice day, Stefanos thinks with a smile on his face as he changes himself into his pajamas. And it truly was a nice day; eventful, full of change and moving in the right direction, but most importantly, he got to share it with Daniil. Stefanos goes to sleep content for the first time in a really long time and he can’t wait for the rest of the week to continue.

The beginning of his day is a blur; breakfast, practice and lunch go by before he can realise and, suddenly, he’s on court. Stefanos holds his bag tightly, adjusting it every few seconds, fidgety. He has a four setter incoming and he feels as if his day has just started now. It’s a weird sensation and he wonders if Daniil is feeling the same. When they call his name, he takes a deep breath and walks outside, where the Australian crowd roars for him. He’s moved that he has such a big fanbase so he gives them a smile. However, Stefanos must focus, even if a little, on the match; the win is his, of course, but he still wants to try different things with his game and he wants to try and change as much as possible.

During the warm up, he feels free; he’s not hitting clean and he’s making weird angles, but he doesn’t have to achieve perfection, finally. It’s a distinctive sensation, one that he hasn’t felt since he was a kid, and he understands once again why he’s a professional tennis player. Stefanos keeps his eyes on the ball, on court and hardly on his rival; there’s only one person on the stadium and that’s him.

As it was meant to be, Stefanos wins his match in three sets, which he excitedly celebrates. It’s not about the win, which he appreciates, but it’s the fact that he managed to keep it clean and, once again, modify the result. When he finishes his post match duties, he quickly showers and changes to go have dinner with Daniil. Stefanos didn’t have time to check the score for Daniil’s encounter, but he believes it also went well for him and they will share a cheerful meal.

They meet in their usual spot, both walking inside the restaurant and heading for the back; it’s become tradition, perhaps, the only part of their day that they might never change. The curly haired man cannot contain his excitement; he’s smiling, talking and being all over the place. In a good way, Daniil enjoys watching him be so elated. 

–It was such a weird day for me but it ended so well. I can’t wait to get out of here– Stefanos talks, gesturing excitedly. Daniil smiles before replying, an honest and warm smile.

–How come it was weird?

–I don’t know how to explain it, but I felt like I woke up and I was already playing the match.

Daniil hums then nods, and Stefanos frowns in confusion.

–You seemed a bit distracted today but I didn’t think it was weird– Stefanos keeps frowning, wanting Daniil to explain himself further– You know, sometimes you have… Uhm… Like, quiet days and you don’t speak much, so I thought it might’ve been that.

Stefanos speaks a small ‘oh’ and nods. He never realised the older man could read him so well, or rather, he never realised he was so expressive. Perhaps it’s both, he does believe he can be reserved with his emotions but they’ve been stuck for so long that they’re starting to know one another. The younger man blushes lightly and tries to hide it by eating and looking down to his dish.

–I mean, I don’t mind it either way, if you speak or don’t speak, I’m glad we can do this together anyways.

He hears Daniil talk and he takes in the words; Stefanos appreciates it, so he nods again and looks up. It’s such an odd and comforting view to have Daniil in front of him, but it feels correct, it feels like… This was meant to be.

Like usual, after dinner they walk outside, but unlike the previous nights, this one is considerably warmer. Both players are walking around, chatting and laughing, until Stefanos spots an ice cream shop. He walks towards it and looks at all the flavors on display. Daniil follows him intrigued and looks down; he’s faced with way too many flavors for his liking. The younger man looks at him, determined.

–Which one do you want?– he asks and Daniil is surprised.

–Uhm… Tiramisu, what— but before the taller man can ask him about what flavor Stefanos will be choosing, the curly haired man is already asking for two cones and paying.

–Hey! Don’t pay for mine, I can— once again, he’s interrupted by Stefanos, who’s already handing him his ice cream and leaving the shop.

Of course, Daniil follows, cone in hand, very surprised. He grabs Stefanos by the shoulder, forcing him to face the older man. He’s licking the ice cream, a smug expression on his face.

–I-I could’ve paid for myself, you know?– Daniil stops himself, flustered– How much was it?

Stefanos shakes his head and keeps walking, his face becoming slightly more serious.

–I’m not telling you. I wanted to pay for you, okay? 

–But you didn’t have to!

–I know I didn’t. I wanted to– he emphasises on wanted and Daniil is dumbfounded and blushing.

–No, Stef, please. Let me pay it back– both men stop in their tracks for a second, and Stefanos finds himself blushing, matching Daniil.

It’s the first time that Daniil has called him ‘Stef’, which feels rather intimate, and makes both men realise that they’re growing closer by the day. The taller man clears his throat wanting to backtrack, but that might make him look rude; Daniil is still unsure as to where they stand and how close they are.

–It’s fine, you can pay for something next time– Stefanos is flustered and keeps walking to ease how shy he feels.

As they continue on their nightly walk, they talk nonsense and laugh mindlessly. It’s easy to make Daniil laugh, something Stefanos didn’t expect, and the curly haired man has an equal easy laugh, so the ambiance is joyful. When they finally finish their ice cream, they head back for the hotel, deciding it’s time to rest. Stefanos is very pleased, his day was chaotic but he got to enjoy himself during all the confusion, which is definitely a win in his book.

Stefanos closes the door of his room behind him, and while he’s happy, he feels as if something is missing. He feels like something had to happen but didn’t, and he can’t pinpoint what it was. To try and sort out his emotions, he writes down in his diary the events of the day.

January 22nd, Saturday. 8, he starts, and from then on he starts stating what happened and how he felt about it. Everything seems fine, he knew the beginning of the day was a bit strange but it wasn’t missing anything. He questions himself, perhaps he is so used to feeling anxious that he somehow misses the feeling, but he knows that’s not the answer. Stefanos changes and decides that sleeping on it will be the best decision; he won’t get anything out of it if he’s tired. However, as he’s putting on his pajamas and reflecting on their walk, he remembers that they were walking quite close; he enjoyed it but something was missing. They definitely walked the same route as always, and if anything changed, was the ice cream, so why does Stefanos feel like something is missing? He sighs and sits down on bed with a blank stare; his head starts going over the walk, how close they were, how he had a lot of fun. Stefanos is a very close person and he enjoys physical affection and, while he’s definitely gotten closer to Daniil, he still feels that they’re rather far. He wanted to be more touchy but he doesn’t know where the line is and if it’s going to be too much for Daniil. Stefanos blushes, realising what he wanted, and he decides it is time to go to sleep. He will sleep on it and he will forget about it; yeah, Stefanos will forget about it.

January 24th, Monday, 9:am

It’s the second week at the Australian Open and Stefanos hopes it’s the last one, he could not deal with the tournament for another round. He’s dreading his day before leaving his room, as he knows he’ll have to face Taylor Fritz. Perhaps, it will be a better match this time, however, he knows it was a difficult match the last… Seven times. As he’s getting dressed, the screen in his phone lights up, as he gets a message.

Daniil

let’s have breakfast at the café, ill pay this time

Stefanos smiles and decides that he will have a good Monday, no matter who he’s facing. He leaves the room and thinks about the ice cream ‘incident’; Daniil doesn’t have to pay back Stefanos, specially because the curly haired man didn’t expect something in return, but the taller man is known to be stubborn, so there’s no way of reasoning. When they finally meet downstairs, they both walk outside, knowing the path to the café.

–A cappuccino, right?– Daniil asks and Stefanos replies with a nod.

–You still remember, huh?– the younger man teases to which the taller man blushes and looks away.

–Yeah, why would I forget?– Stefanos smiles and knocks his shoulder against Daniil’s.

They walk inside and Daniil asks for their breakfast while Stefanos walks to the back of the place, choosing a table and waiting for the taller man. He grabs his phone, looking through his pictures, and he finds the ones he took of Daniil. He can see that the photos have potential, but in Stefanos’ eyes, they could be much better. Nonetheless, he enjoys having those memories immortalised in his phone, it was a good night.

A couple moments later, Daniil appears with the coffee orders and sits in front of Stefanos. He hands him the drink and sits down, taking a sip of his own order.

–What were you looking at?– the older man asks, teasing.

–You– Stefanos replies teasing but also being painfully honest.

Daniil blushes again, it seems it’s all he can do nowadays, and continues drinking.

–It’s a nice picture, I like it. And you look really good– he sentences and finally takes a sip of his cappuccino.

–It’s all you, I’ve never looked so good– Stefanos shakes his head, and before Daniil can complain, he speaks.

–You’re handsome and I won’t be arguing with you about this. You are– the older man is completely frozen, unable to move, breathe or even blush.

It’s one thing that someone calls you handsome, but when you have possibly the hottest man in the entire tour complimenting your looks, now that’s a much different thing. Daniil manages to nod and they finish breakfast in silence.

When they head to court, after having met with their teams, both players are walking ahead, side by side. They’re close but neither of them wants to make the wrong move, especially Stefanos, who has his brother behind him and ready to tease him relentlessly. There’s a certain expectation from both of them, they know what they’re doing is working and helping them, but they still don’t know if it’s going to be enough to get them through.

Practice goes well, and even Apostolos chimes in and helps Gilles coach both players. It’s a weird view, something that no one could get used to, but it will have to work until they leave Melbourne. After that, Stefanos has a small debrief with his father, that is… Strange. Apostolos is stern as usual but he seems to have faith in his eldest son. Stefanos isn’t used to it, he follows his instructions instead of taking the lead, but he’s glad Apostolos can also change. The conversation ends with his father putting a hand on his shoulder and Stefanos nodding; the eldest Tsitsipas could get used to this.

The match against Fritz is odd, in a good way; it’s a nice surprise for Stefanos. Their encounter starts with shaky shots from both players, and as the games keep on happening, Stefanos finds himself hitting more clearly and confidently. The first set is for Taylor, like the last 7 times, but the Greek player isn’t too mad about it, he knows he’s pressuring the American player. After that, there’s a change coming from both sides of the court; Stefanos changes positively, while Fritz goes downhill.

The curly haired player manages to win in four sets, giving no chances of break to Taylor. After the last point, Stefanos celebrates excitedly; he can’t believe that he overcame his toughest match of the tournament. Fists in the air and a big smile on his face, he celebrates with the crowd as he can hear the cheers from the entire stadium. He hopes that Daniil managed to watch some of his match, because Stefanos knows he played well and he wants to share it with him too.

When Stefanos is finally in his room, getting ready, he takes a look at his phone, reading the notifications. He can see that Daniil texted him, telling him to dress up, and who is he to deny such an invitation. Stefanos likes to dress up, so even when he dresses casually, he still has a good sense of fashion. He chooses to wear a dark gray suit, slightly oversized. Underneath, he wears a white shirt with the first button undone. He accessorises with a gold necklace and a belt with a gold buckle. Finally, he chooses to wear a pair of white sneakers to tie up the entire outfit.

Stefanos walks downstairs, excited to talk about the match and have a moment to relax, knowing that the hardest part of the tournament is over. He meets Daniil, who’s wearing a light wash pair of jeans and a plain white t-shirt. Stefanos frowns, thinking that both of them would dress up, but now he has an excuse to tease Daniil a little bit. The taller man, however, is starstruck; he had in mind to take Stefanos out for dinner, given he played incredibly well, but Daniil did not expect him to appear in a suit. Yes, he jokingly told him to dress up, although the joke might have not translated on text.

–Are we going somewhere?– Stefanos asks with an eyebrow raised.

Daniil manages to nod and starts walking outside, getting some air, hoping that will help him clear his head. The curly haired man follows happily and puts a hand on Daniil’s shoulder.

–Will you be paying, as well? Because I believe it’s my turn– Stefanos talks playfully, he doesn’t mind who’s paying, but he thinks it’s a bit funny to have the older man so tense.

–Yeah, I will. You deserve it after today– the older man speaks softly, shyly and honestly. He’s blushy, hands in his pockets, because he cannot trust himself.

–Thank you– Stefanos replies equally as honestly and he has to hold back being affectionate. God, he wishes he knew where they both stand.

They keep on walking, Stefanos following Daniil’s lead, as the older man had booked a table in advance. He watched Stefanos’ match and was pleasantly surprised at the change; Daniil had seen some clips of the match last time they played, and it was nothing compared to what he saw today. He’s proud of the Greek player and he deserves to be celebrated. Stefanos, on his side, is quiet, not because he has nothing to say, but because he’s too busy staring at Daniil. Yes, he’s wearing a basic outfit that he always wears, and yes, this isn’t the first time they have a meal outside of the hotel, however this time there’s something different. The fact that he told him to dress up, that he will be paying, those things are making Daniil much more attractive than before.

When they arrive at the restaurant, they sit underneath a dim, warm light. Daniil can’t stop staring at the man sitting in front of him; he looks ideal from head to toes, from the clothes he chose and the way he carries himself. Stefanos can’t help but blush; he knows he looks good, he has eyes and a mirror in his room, but the way Daniil is looking at him… He could melt right there. They order their food, allowing themselves to skip their diets just for tonight.

–You played amazingly, I’m proud of you– Daniil states and Stefanos blushes, unable to contain a big smile.

–Thank you, you know how much this match meant for me. I’m happy, too– he replies cheerfully.

–And you look incredible, the suit looks perfect on you– surprisingly enough, Stefanos’ smile is capable of growing bigger, eyes half closed.

–Well, you did tell me to dress up. But, uhm… I kinda grabbed the first thing I had- Well, because I also didn’t have anything better, you know?– the younger man starts rambling, having a hard time taking the compliment, and Daniil lets him, his smile growing slowly.

–Well, you look great. Whether it was the first thing you grabbed or not– the older man concludes.

A few moments later, the food arrives and they continue to have dinner. They chat, laugh and have a proper good time. Stefanos wishes to get used to this, to have this at every tournament; it’s impossible, of course, not because neither of them would want to keep hanging out, but because they have different schedules. And Stefanos isn’t sure if Daniil would want to meet with him after this is over. Sure, the older man wouldn’t invite him for dinner if he didn’t want to spend time with him, but is this just because they’re forced to be together? There’s still some questions going around the younger man’s head.

Dinner ends nicely, both men trading desserts, given that Daniil had chosen a cake he hadn’t tried before and ended up disliking it. Stefanos, on the other side, ordered tiramisú, knowing that Daniil can be a bit picky with desserts and he would want to trade. As stated previously, the taller man pays for dinner and does not tell Stefanos the price of it; the curly haired man can imagine that it was expensive, given the quality of the restaurant and the location within the city, but Daniil refused to say a word, perhaps as a payback for the ice cream incident.

They finally walk outside, a faint breeze hitting them, and Daniil appears to be cold– again. Stefanos looks at him, holding in some laughter, before Daniil gives him a frown.

–If you know you’re going to be cold, why won’t you grab a jacket?– the younger man asks playfully.

–I didn’t know I was going to be cold, it just happens to be windy, okay?– he replies faking anger, trying to make Stefanos laugh.

He does laugh, as a matter of fact, both of them laugh, and when they calm down, the younger man takes off his blazer and gives it to Daniil.

–Take it, I’m not cold– Stefanos won’t take ‘no’ for an answer, and while the older man hesitates, he ultimately grabs the blazer and puts it on.

It’s slightly warm and smells… Exactly like Stefanos does, which is great. Besides regulating his body temperature, it brings Daniil comfort, like a big hug after a long day. Both men start walking around, but decide that it’s better to go back to the hotel, so they change their route. They’re walking side by side, closely, so close that their hands brush at times, and every single time, Stefanos blushes. He shouldn’t, he’s not supposed to, but he does and he has to hold back the urge to hold Daniil’s hand.

They finally make it back to the hotel, and it’s quiet; only the workers are around and it feels surprisingly comforting. They’re getting used to it, going back to their rooms so late, but they’ll never fully get around to it, perhaps they’re not supposed to. Both men wait for the elevator in silence, not wanting to disturb the peace, and Stefanos rests his head on Daniil’s shoulder. The taller man lets him and puts one arm around him, caressing him carefully. It feels correct, like it should have happened earlier, however they’re interrupted by the doors of the lift opening. They walk inside and resume the position, this time Stefanos holding onto his blazer. He doesn’t know if hugging Daniil back will be too much, so he wants to be as close as possible without making the older man uncomfortable. Daniil takes a look at Stefanos and smiles to himself; Stefanos is, without a single doubt, the most beautiful view in Melbourne.

The lift stops but Stefanos doesn’t move, not just yet, he wants to enjoy every moment he has with Daniil. The taller man moves his arm away, slowly, caressing the younger man along the way. Stefanos finally straightens up and looks at him with tender eyes. Daniil takes out the blazer to hand it to the owner, but he gets caught in a pair of arms before he can fully stretch his arm. Daniil hugs Stefanos back tightly, hiding his face on the younger man’s neck; he could spend his day smelling him and never get tired of it.

–Thank you for dinner. I… I had an amazing time– the curly haired man whispers, his heart racing. 

–I’m glad you did– he replies with a smile on his lips.

They pull apart begrudgingly and stay really, really close; Daniil doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe and waits, maybe something will happen. Yet it never comes. Stefanos leaves the elevator, blushing to the ears and extremely flustered. He quickly walks to his room and closes the door behind him; what was he even thinking? Stefanos needs to sleep and forget about it, this time for good.

January 26th, Wednesday, 9:am

Stefanos wakes up to the sound of rain. Weird, he thinks, as it has never rained before. He gets dressed and prepares himself to have a long and boring day; in parallel to this, he’s also actively avoiding everything that happened during the elevator incident. ‘Incident’ that’s what Stefanos likes to call those moments with Daniil. He sighs before leaving his room and walks downstairs while dragging his feet. Like every morning, he finds Daniil waiting for him and he has the same dreadful expression on his face. Stefanos groans dramatically and Daniil pulls him quickly into a hug.

–C’mon, it might be fun– the taller man tries, but he’s unable to believe his own lie.

–You need to say it more convincingly, you know?– he replies as he pulls away from Daniil’s hug.

Both players walk inside the restaurant to have breakfast, and since the weather is bad, they take their time eating because practice will get delayed.

As Stefanos expected, the day was long and boring. Practice was fine but the match got so delayed he didn’t even know if he would play today. Stefanos spent more time playing with his brother than on court. He did, however, have so much fun with Petros, who never fails to make him laugh, so he can take that as something positive. When he finally had the time to play his match, it was considerably shorter than usual, as his rival had to retire in the middle of the second set. Stefanos did not celebrate, because he didn’t win, and wished Sinner a speedy recovery.

After his post match duties, Stefanos gets to go to his room and rest; he’s had a lazy day so he’s in a lazy mood and he doesn’t even want to have dinner. Or rather, he doesn’t want to get out of his room to go have dinner, because he’s hungry. Grunting, he grabs his phone and texts Daniil.

grab food and come to my room, dont wanna go outside today :/

A couple of minutes later, Stefanos hears his phone vibrate, as Daniil had replied.

on my way, be there in 10 minutes or so

The younger man lays in bed, staring at the ceiling, as he waits. He tries his hardest to stay awake, but his bed is so comfortable and he’s wearing such soft clothes and he’s so tired– Thankfully, he hears a knock on the door before he falls asleep, so he knows he has to stand up. He opens the door, finding Daniil with warm food in his hands and lets him in.

–Easy match today, huh?– the older man asks.

–Yeah, so annoying. I wanted to play, I barely got any time on court– Stefanos complains as he sits on the bed. 

–C’mon, I saw you had fun with Petros– Daniil replies as he hands him his meal.

–I did, but I still wanted to play– the younger man keeps whining as he eats, something Daniil finds endearing.

Dinner is a back and forth between Stefanos’ complaints and Daniil’s purposefully bad attempts at cheering him up. More than trying to uplift him, the taller man wants to make Stefanos laugh, which works for the most part, but he also gets a few eye rolls from the younger man.

When they finish eating, they leave the trash on the side and Daniil takes the opportunity to rest his head on Stefanos’ shoulder. The curly haired man smiles and starts caressing Daniil’s back. Essentially, it’s the opposite scene that happened in the elevator; neither of them is dressed up, they had dinner inside and Daniil is leaning onto Stefanos. It feels equally as intimate and comfortable. Stefanos could get used to it.

–It didn’t rain last week and Sinner never retired– Daniil talks softly– It feels weird, seeing how everything is changing, how everyone is changing, but no one knows what’s going on.

–Except us– Stefanos replies.

–Except us.

They stay still for a while, enjoying each other’s company. Stefanos starts thinking about what he will be doing after he leaves Melbourne. Besides playing whatever tournament he has next, because he truly has forgotten what else he will be playing for the rest of the year. Perhaps he could go back home and visit his family, it’s been a while since he last saw them– not counting Christmas– and it would be nice to catch up on everything his siblings have been doing. Stefanos feels like the weight in his shoulder is becoming heavier so he looks down to find Daniil struggling to stay awake.

–Go to sleep– he speaks in a soft voice.

–Not tired…– the taller man replies in a very tired voice to which Stefanos chuckles.

–You’re about to fall asleep, go to sleep, Danya.

Daniil violently blushes but stays still, tense. Did he listen correctly or is he too tired to discern what’s real and what isn’t? He hums, adjusting himself on Stefanos’ shoulder, considering his options.

–Spend the night, I can give you some clothes– the younger man speaks again and Daniil nods on his shoulder and hugs him.

Stefanos swallows some saliva, suddenly feeling his throat going dry, and he takes a deep breath. If it was up to him… Wow, if it was up to him.

–Can I get you some clothes?– Daniil nods again but keeps on hugging him– You know, I need to move, so maybe you can hug me later?

Stefanos chuckles and is finally set free. He takes a quick look at the taller man, who’s pouting, giving him beautiful hazel eyes. The younger man quickly goes to look through his clothes for another pajama to lend Daniil before he can do anything he might regret. He comes back with a black t-shirt and a matching pair of shorts. The older man grabs the clothes, nodding as a way of thanking him, and goes to the bathroom to change. Stefanos makes use of this moment to also change into his pajamas.

Finally, they both change and sit down on bed and, much like before, Daniil rests on top of Stefanos. The younger man looks at the ceiling before deciding to talk, but he holds back his words, perhaps they can spend some time like this. Once again, Daniil hugs Stefanos, making himself comfortable. Stefanos runs his fingers through Daniil’s hair, slowly and carefully.

–We should really go to sleep, Danya– he speaks in a whisper and Daniil hums in reply.

Daniil moves and faces Stefanos; he’s flustered and the younger man has never seen him so red. The taller man clearly wants to speak but he’s hesitant and Stefanos keeps quiet, giving him all the time he needs.

–Thank you, good night– it’s all Daniil manages to say and Stefanos replies with a comforting smile.

He turns off the lights, the older man already laying in bed, and he lays next to him. Stefanos doesn’t know how close is too close, so he keeps his distance, however, he feels a cold hand grab one of his and slide it over Daniil’s waist. Now, they’re cuddling because Daniil wants to and Stefanos can’t help but to hold him impossibly close, burying his nose on the back of Daniil’s neck. They fit like puzzle pieces and the younger man knows that he’s going to rest like never before.

January 27th, Thursday, 10:00am

Daniil wakes up with a pair of arms surrounding him; it’s a warm embrace, and the man behind him is breathing slowly into his neck. He doesn’t move as he doesn’t want to wake Stefanos up. Right, he shouldn’t even be in Stefanos’ room in the first place, why would he? He’s wearing his pajamas, in his bed, cuddling him, and it’s nice. In fact, it’s more than nice; it’s comfortable, it’s warm, it feels like home. And Daniil hasn’t felt like home in years.

The older man turns and stares at the ceiling, waiting for Stefanos to wake up, as it would be rude to leave without saying goodbye. A few minutes later, there’s shuffling in the bed, as the younger man begins to wake up. Firstly, he turns around and turns his back on Daniil, then he lays upside down, and finally wakes up. Daniil isn’t sure what to say, is he supposed to simply say ‘good morning’? Should they talk about it? Should they wait for breakfast then talk about it? The taller man is lost and overthinking the easiest of situations. Then, as he’s still considering his options, Stefanos hugs him, burying his face in his neck. His way of greeting him, of course, and Daniil blushes. He hugs him back, still quiet, and they lay in bed for a while.

–Don’t wanna do anything today– the younger man is the first to talk, with a rough voice as he’s still sleepy.

–Maybe we shouldn’t– Daniil replies softly, as he would also enjoy a quiet day.

–I… I’m scared for tomorrow. I don’t wanna play you– Stefanos talks with a thin voice and Daniil’s heart aches for him.

The way he’s speaking, confessing how he feels, how deeply he feels. He wishes he could do something about it. The taller man holds him closer, tightly and securely, and Stefanos curls himself into Daniil. He feels the younger man breathe deeply and starts caressing his back; Stefanos doesn’t feel tense in his arms, but he still doesn’t want to keep overthinking about it.

–We will be okay. We’ve done this before, it’s no different this time– he replies, reassuring the younger man.

There isn’t a reply, not that it’s needed, but it’s worrying Daniil. He’s seen how Stefanos gets and he doesn’t want to see him suffer like that again. They have to play, though if the younger man withdraws, the result will be the same. However, he knows how much Stefanos enjoys being on court, so that’s not an option. Daniil thinks about how he can make this up for Stefanos, because he wants to, not because he needs to. As he’s deep in his thoughts, he hears a voice speak over them.

–Let’s do something, I… I can’t stay in my room like this– he says as he pulls away from Daniil and starts getting up.

If it wasn’t any other situation, the older man would think that Stefanos looks adorable; in his pajamas, messy hair and sleepy face. Daniil shouldn’t think of him like that, not right now anyways, but the thoughts are on the back of his head, nagging him. Daniil follows him, standing up and stretching, his lower stomach showing; Stefanos’ pajamas are slightly short on him.

–Do you wanna…– and before he can finish, the curly haired man is replying.

–Yeah, whatever you wanna do, we’ll do it, I just don’t wanna think right now.

It’s conclusive, and Daniil nods, he didn’t have much in mind, perhaps going to a park nearby and taking some pictures.

When they’re finally out of the hotel, they realise how different Melbourne looks in the daytime. The sun shines brightly above them and there’s so much more people on the streets; it feels nice to see the city so busy, however Daniil isn’t too fond of crowded places. He takes the lead, walking ahead and trying to walk through the mass of people in front of them. Stefanos follows closely, looking around and enjoying the views.

He’s walking on autopilot, right behind Daniil, deeply lost in his thoughts, when he feels a hand grab his own. He’s not startled but rather comforted, as he’s being led and he doesn’t have to form a thought for a second. Daniil walks quickly past the people in the street, holding Stefanos close to him; finally, when they arrive at an open space, Daniil lets go of the younger man. His hand feels empty now, and slightly colder, but he’s scared of holding Stefanos’ hand for longer than necessary. The curly haired man is looking at him with his big brown eyes but he stays quiet, too shy to ask for anything.

Quickly enough, they arrive at a park, full of trees and children having fun. They wander around for a bit, admiring the nature around them, until Daniil stops and turns to face Stefanos.

–I took you out because I wanted you to take pictures, I know how much you like it– he states.

–Oh… I thought you didn’t want me stopping every five steps…– Stefanos blushes and lowers his gaze, suddenly becoming shy.

–We went out because you wanted to go out, I want you to have fun– Daniil replies as he takes a step closer to him. 

–Thank you. I like walking with you… Uhm, but I also don’t wanna, like, make this about me, you know?

The taller man shakes his head and grabs his hand again, beginning to walk once more, and Stefanos follows confused.

–Take as many pictures as you want, we have the entire day for us.

Both players end up spending almost two hours at the park; most of the time Stefanos is leading the way, telling Daniil about every single detail he sees. The older man listens carefully, as he doesn’t really understand him, but he’s willing to learn for him.

When they’re back in the hotel, they decide to part ways after lunch and have an afternoon for themselves. Daniil goes back to his room feeling relaxed and rested; it’s been a while since he’s had so much fun during a tournament. He takes a cold shower and changes into comfortable clothes, turning on the TV and watching the women’s semifinal. He’s not particularly rooting for either woman, but he enjoys watching sports, besides, he has nothing better to do.

With the end of his day arriving, he feels… Weird. Daniil can’t tell if he’s nervous, excited, anxious or whatnot, he simply feels weird. The show must go on, but now that he’s close to Stefanos, it feels like a much heavier thing to do. Winning and losing are part of the sport, everyone knows that, but the younger man expressed how pained he was that they would be playing tomorrow and that also hurts Daniil. He sighs, there’s nothing he can do about it even if he wanted to, so they must play and see the outcome.

January 28th, Friday, 9:am

Stefanos wakes up much calmer than he had anticipated, and, truthfully, he’s glad. He had a fun day with Daniil which definitely helped, and now he’s ready to face the loss. He will have to deal with his father afterwards, but that’s a problem for tonight, right now his only worry is to get ready and have breakfast.

As he walks downstairs, he runs into Daniil, which seems odd for either of them, but they’re happy to see each other. They hug warmly and head for the restaurant. There’s not much of a conversation besides some small talk, but there doesn’t need to be one. Caring for one another also means to have shallow moments without any pressure.

The day goes by in a blink; breakfast, practice and lunch are done before Stefanos can even process it. And now he’s on court to lose his semifinal against Daniil.

Rod Laver Arena. A beautiful stadium. A stadium that roars for him and boos Daniil. A stadium that has held numerous battles, eagerly awaiting one more. Stefanos takes a deep breath before walking out and the world stands still. It’s just him and the court, nothing else matters. There’s nothing on the line, no pressure, no expectations; this tournament is over but there’s stuff to be done.

He can tell that the ambiance in the arena is different; it’s more crowded and, somehow, it feels more silent. Daniil also feels different; more wary, more shy and ahead of this match. They both know the result, but they must play in order to move. As they start their warm up, they can tell how much they’ve changed, an irrefutable proof that they have been working where no one has seen them. It’s like a dance, the ball bouncing back and forth, following the beat of their hearts.

Sooner than later, the match starts and the ball moves once more. Back and forth, forth and back, up and down, and left to right. Stefanos feels his body lighter and his head clearer; he can hit shots with surgical precision. Daniil, on the other side of the net, is returning like never before; anticipating Stefanos’ shots, directing the ball to impossible places. Almost everyone knew that this match was going to be long and intense, including both players, however neither of them could have imagined how long it would take. 

After four, almost five hours, and five long and exhausting sets, Daniil manages to take the win. He can barely celebrate, sweat all over his face and body. Stefanos isn’t sad but he can hardly stand up, so when he walks to the net, he rests on it. Daniil puts a hand over his back, still trying to catch his breath, and they merge into a quick hug. Some pleasantries are exchanged with the umpire and Stefanos finally walks out of court.

After he has showered and had dinner on his own, he decides to text Daniil. He’s tired, but he’d love to spend more time with him, after all, the match went considerably more different than expected.

can i come to ur room?

He asks, Stefanos doesn’t know if Daniil will want to sleep after such a long day. After a few minutes, he receives a reply and Stefanos walks outside of his room. He knows the number of the room; he can’t remember when, but he knows Daniil told him. Perhaps it was one of the first times they had lunch together, though he can’t be sure. When he ultimately arrives, he hesitates to knock on the door; this is the first time Stefanos goes to Daniil’s room, as the previous times it was the other way around. The door opens and he’s met with a sleepy and tired Daniil, who hugs him before letting him in. Stefanos hugs back, holding most of his weight.

–If you want to sleep you can tell me, I just… I wanted to see you– the curly haired man speaks softly, keeping Daniil close to him.

The older man hums and parts from the hug, letting Stefanos inside his room. They sit on the bed, side by side, and the younger man takes a deep breath before speaking again.

–You’ve never played better. And so did I. It was… A very close match– he analyses, keeping his eyes on the wall in front of them, while the older man nods to his words.

–You’re the only person I ever wanna lose like that ever again.

Daniil’s heart jumps for a brief second, skipping one or two beats. This feels more than a simple compliment, it feels like a confession, but he can’t read too much into it, not right now.

–I’m still rooting for you, you know? Even though we both know what’s going to happen… I still have hope.

Another confession. Daniil can’t even look at him, he doesn’t dare, and Stefanos isn’t looking at him either.

–Stef– the taller man finally speaks– I… also had faith in you today. I genuinely thought you could beat me today.

Daniil confesses back. Shy, nervous, tired. Stefanos smiles to himself and rests his head on Daniil’s shoulder.

–How are you not tired after today?– the older man asks, trying to calm his nerves by changing the topic.

–I am, but… I can rest tomorrow.

After a while, going back and forth, and Daniil considering how much more shy he can get, they ultimately call it a night. The older man has to prepare to end it all, whatever that means anyways, and he should get some rest. Stefanos, on his side, is carefree, completely and entirely. His father couldn’t tell him anything about how he played, so he barely said anything, while Petros comforted him. It was really, really nice. The younger man goes to sleep calm and without any worries in his mind, everything is going accordingly.

January 30th, Sunday, 11:am

A gray sunday. Stefanos wakes up with clouds in the sky and very moody. He hates when it rains and he hates to not see the sun. It has to be a good day today, yet it’s already going badly. To Stefanos at least, technically nothing has happened yet. He has a very lazy day in; he doesn’t change out of his pajamas, just brushes his teeth and orders the breakfast to be delivered to his room. He does send Daniil a short text message, wishing him luck. He doesn’t need it, but he figures it’s the least he can do for the older man.

As hours go by, Stefanos grows anxious; for the match, for Daniil and for the fact that they might not make it out. They should, but it is not guaranteed. He tries to get his mind off of his worries by editing the pictures he took before the semifinal. They’re good, or at least, he likes them, so there’s minimal alterations done to them. Stefanos does take some time looking at the photos he took of Daniil; he looks relaxed and happy, and he loves to see the taller man so carefree. He’s such a different person off court, Stefanos is sad they didn’t become… Friends? Sooner.

He doesn’t know where they stand, but Stefanos is sure he cares for Daniil. And he wants to think that Daniil also cares for him. But what word should they use, if any. Stefanos shouldn’t be thinking about stuff like that, not before such an important moment of his life, he simply can’t help but wonder where they fit.

The wait is finally over and both players jump out on court. Daniil looks shallowly determined; one could think that he truly wants to take the trophy home, but once you see past Daniil’s walls, one can clearly tell that it’s just a facade. And Stefanos happens to see so much more than just that. The younger man is biting his nails before the match even begins, he knows what will happen so suffering beforehand might help him process his emotions faster.

Clearly, that won’t help, because the match will be entirely different than before, exactly like their semifinal. Their encounter was a neck to neck battle, both players giving their all even if they had nothing to fight for, but they were fighting because they knew how much they could push. In this case, however, Daniil goes flat-out at the very start, not knowing if he will have to endure or get destroyed. There’s so much uncertainty that he chooses to ignore his preferences.

Perhaps, playing so differently wasn’t a smart move, or perhaps the match was going to go the opposite direction no matter what Daniil did, but so far, it is not looking pretty for the taller player. He’s one set down, and a break down on the second one. Stefanos is worried as there’s nothing Daniil can do to get past Nadal, but this match is completely bizarre. No matter where Daniil hits, Rafa is there; no matter how clever a shot is, Rafa outsmarts him; no matter how much he tries, Rafa will always be better.

Stefanos feels a knot in his throat, he can’t believe he’s going to watch Daniil lose, again, after playing such an intense, but heavily lopsided match. The score doesn’t reflect how dominant Rafa is, as Daniil has some moments of brilliance, but some moments aren’t enough to overcome the loss. The third set is where Daniil extends the battle to the maximum exponent; deuce, after deuce, after deuce, and finally, a tiebreak. The tiebreak lasts more than either player wants it to last, but it’s Daniil’s only hope at taking a set off of Nadal. Ultimately, the ball stays on Daniil’s side of the net and he loses. Again, and again, and again. An eighth painful time.

Stefanos sighs, not in disappointment but in resignation, as he had unnerving faith in the older man. It’s over, but how over is it? Is it just the final or the Australian Open? They surely don’t have to go all over again, right? The younger man feels dizzy from the amount of emotions and thoughts going through his body, so he goes to wash his face. Then, he sends a text message to Daniil, telling him to go directly to his room and that he will have dinner ready.

After a while, food has run out cold, Stefanos is fighting to stay awake; he didn’t have the courage to watch the celebration, he couldn’t see Daniil’s face after losing this time. Suddenly, there’s a knock on the door that startles him awake. The curly haired man stands up quickly to go open the door, and on the other side, he finds Daniil. He can’t decipher his face, he looks… Lost and… More. Stefanos lets him in and they both sit down on bed. Silently, Stefanos hands Daniil his food, giving him a pout because it’s cold. The older man eats slowly, thinking about every choice he has made to be at this precise point in his life. Daniil looks at the younger man, food still in his plate and sighs. He doesn’t know what to say but he should start by apologising. He’s not entirely sure why, but he feels like an apology is the best thing he can do.

–Danya. Just, don’t. It was three sets and a tiebreak. We’ve changed enough.

Stefanos doesn’t want to sound harsh but he needs to get Daniil out of that headspace. Still, the taller man shakes his head.

–But—

–There’s no but’s, you did great.

Silence. Not awkward, not uncomfortable, not empty. This silence speaks volumes; Daniil is grateful for Stefanos’ words.

When the older man finally finishes his food, he decides to talk again, but he’s still not too sure as to what to say.

–Stef– he begins– What are we supposed to do, now? I mean, is it done? Is it over?

Stefanos shrugs, he doesn’t have an answer for him.

–We wait, it’s all we can do– he replies, resigned.

Not a satisfactory answer for Daniil.

–I don’t wanna wait.

–Neither do I. 

Again, silence. There’s a conversation waiting for them, a conversation that neither of the men want to have.

–I think it’s over. I mean, this week was so different from the past ones, but… I still worry. 

Stefanos fidgets with his hands, scratching his palms, and Daniil quickly grabs one of them, interlocking their fingers together. The younger man holds his breath and looks down at their hands.

–I’m worried, too. But… I think, uhm… I think it’s good to have each other.

Daniil runs his thumb over Stefanos’. He’s bad with words but he’s trying to get better for him.

–How was it? To be alone. I’ve done this with you, but you started on your own.

Stefanos closes his eyes and rests his head over Daniil’s shoulder. It’s weird to think about it, it’s been so long but it’s so fresh in his memory.

–It was… Bad. I didn’t like it and I had to keep listening to my dad being mad at me. It wasn’t my fault. I think.

–It wasn’t– Daniil confirms but the younger man hums– Stef, it wasn’t your fault. It has never been your fault. Losing is just part of the game, and if he can’t accept it, then that’s his problem.

Stefanos lightly squeezes Daniil’s hand. He’s listening but he doesn’t have the words to reply. Before speaking again, the taller man takes a deep breath, taking this time to get everything off his chest. He’s nervous, he knows Stefanos will listen and won’t judge him, but Daniil is not used to being so open and vulnerable in front of anyone.

–I was very confused when you talked to me only to give me the paper, but… You were cautious and did the right thing.

The older man is beginning to rant, he has found out that Stefanos enjoys being talked to when he’s in a low mood, so he figures it’s the right time to get some things off his chest without needing a reply.

–It was complicated to believe you, but you couldn’t have been joking, I knew something was up. And you treated me… Well. You didn’t have to, because we were never friends but you respected me in so many ways, it was difficult to… Not let you in my life.

Stefanos squeezes again, softly, and sits even closer to Daniil, knees touching.

–You’re much different than I thought. I’m happy to be wrong this time, you… You’re amazing, Stef.

There’s another moment of silence, but this time is broken by Stefanos’ voice.

–You’re going to make me cry…– he talks in a whisper.

–Oh… Sorry, I didn’t mean too—

Daniil feels another hand cup his face, then a pair of lips interrupt him. He tenses up for a brief moment, then gives in the touch and closes his eyes. It’s a short and tender kiss; Stefanos is good with words, but he’d rather use actions this time.

When they pull apart, Daniil can’t meet his gaze; he’s blushing, flustered and his heart is racing. Stefanos kisses his cheek, then sniffs as he is on the verge of tears. The younger man could have never imagined how different his life would be in such a short period of time. He’s overwhelmed, feeling too many emotions at once, and he can’t keep holding back his tears. This time, Stefanos is the one crying, and this time, Daniil is the one hugging him, keeping him close and steady. The curly haired man clings onto him, grabbing his t-shirt, unable to stop his tears from running down his face.

With everything going on, Stefanos had forgotten to take care of himself, emotionally that is. He had his moments and he tried journaling, which definitely helped, but it wasn’t enough. And even with Daniil by his side, he was still holding his feelings inside, setting them aside and focusing on working towards leaving Melbourne. Truth be told, Stefanos is bad at allowing himself to work on his emotions, but this time it has gone to stratospheric levels.

He cries and cries and cries some more; Stefanos cries until he’s entirely dried out. Daniil has grown extremely worried, not knowing what to do except hold him and caress his hair. The older man is the only steady thing in his life and the only person keeping him together. Stefanos takes a deep breath before facing Daniil again, eyes red and teary. He doesn’t know what to say so he mutters a small ‘sorry’. The taller man shakes his head and kisses his forehead gently. Stefanos has nothing to apologise for but he has been conditioned to be remorseful for how strongly he feels. To be this intimate with someone is changing the gears inside the younger man’s body; it feels odd but it feels correct, which is extremely conflicting, so he’s hesitant and unable to react accordingly. Daniil is patient and he cares for Stefanos more than he verbalizes it, so he doesn’t mind taking his time to help the curly haired man heal. The night becomes short for both of them as the conversation flows and the two men learn how to process all the experiences lived together. There’s some back and forth with Stefanos; from going quiet to vomiting the words at once, but he’s getting better at managing such an emotionally demanding talk.

Before they realise, the sun rises in Melbourne. A new sun, a bright and hopeful sun. Daniil is the first to pick up on it and he turns around to face the window. Stefanos looks outside too, watching the first lights of the day paint the town a beautiful golden. Quickly, he takes out his phone to check the date. This might be the most important moment in his entire life, it will determine whether they have concluded or whether it has all been in vain. Even when he’s in a low mood, Stefanos is hopeful; not only did they manage to break the unbreakable and move the unmovable, but they have both changed as people. Stefanos isn’t the same player as he was two months ago, and very clearly, neither is Daniil.

His phone screen lights up, showing a beautiful beach on the Greek coast. The time reads 5:01 am. It’s 19º currently. The date is January 31st. Stefanos sighs as he closes his eyes and rests his head on Daniil’s shoulder. It’s over. It’s definitely over and they have done it. Daniil hugs him tightly once more; excited, relieved but slightly desperate, his flight cannot come early enough.

–I’m proud of you– the older man whispers.

He doesn’t expect a reply and he doesn’t get one, and Stefanos is beginning to fall asleep on top of him. He’s exhausted, not only for all the emotions he felt today, but for reliving the same two weeks again and again and again. He can put everything behind, knowing he’ll be going home to his family, where everything will be okay. Without missing a beat, they get ready for bed and get the rest they so rightfully deserve. There won’t be another day, another match, another week of ongoing suffering and desperation. They will wake up, next to each other, to a nice and free Monday morning where their only priority is to make it to their respective flights, just how it was supposed to be the first time.