Fic: Rafa and Roger and Wimbledon and Families and...
Title: none, really
Rated: G
pairing: Roger and Rafa, platonic
Note: Hurt/comfort fic. This probably won't make sense to anyone but helenoftroy81. Heck, it might not even make sense to her. But for better or worse, here it is. XD
I see him as I walk in. He's sitting on a bench, up against the wall. He's just completed his presser, announcing his withdrawal from Wimbledon. He has a look of calm about him, but I know it's just a show. There's a certain way he holds his jaw when he's upset and a certain tilt to his head. I doubt if anyone in this room would be able to pick up on it but I saw it. I have played him enough, talked to him enough, watched him enough... to know that he is on the verge of breaking down. It is not easy to live your life in front of millions of people during the best of times, let alone your body is failing and your home life is disintegrating before your eyes.
I catch his eye and smile at him. For a fleeting moment, as he looks at me, I feel my heart break for him. I know how much Wimbledon means to him. His physical pain and the emotional pain that he is going through right now are more then anyone so young should have to bare. I want to reach out to him, but I am being moved along in the flow of the people around me. I give him a nod. I hope that he will understand that I am thinking of him. As I walk past him, he stands and walks back into the locker rooms, no doubt to collect his things.
Wait. This is crazy. My friend is in pain and I cannot stand here and pretend I don't see it. I raise my hand and silence the questions.
"Please excuse me for a moment. I'm very sorry. Please. We can continue shortly, ok?" I see their looks of bewilderment. I put on my best smile and push past them. I move out of the circle of their cameras and microphones. I walk into the locker room and breath a sigh of relief at the privacy and silence that I find here, once the doors have closed.
It only takes a moment to find him. His bags and rackets are lining the floor and his clothes are spilling from his locker. He is sitting with his head in his hands. I approach him quietly, cautiously. We've been 'tennis friends' for years, but it's never been much more then that. I don't know if he will appreciate my intrusion or if it will only embarrass him.
"Rafa?" I sit down next to him. He looks at me, asking so many questions with his eyes. Questions that I don't have the answers for. All I can do is wrap my arms around him and pull him in close. He stiffens for a brief second and then melts against me. He breaths out a heavy sigh and I feel him relax. I can't stay. There are people waiting for me. Obligations. But for right now, at this moment, this is the most important place for me to be.
Rated: G
pairing: Roger and Rafa, platonic
Note: Hurt/comfort fic. This probably won't make sense to anyone but helenoftroy81. Heck, it might not even make sense to her. But for better or worse, here it is. XD
I see him as I walk in. He's sitting on a bench, up against the wall. He's just completed his presser, announcing his withdrawal from Wimbledon. He has a look of calm about him, but I know it's just a show. There's a certain way he holds his jaw when he's upset and a certain tilt to his head. I doubt if anyone in this room would be able to pick up on it but I saw it. I have played him enough, talked to him enough, watched him enough... to know that he is on the verge of breaking down. It is not easy to live your life in front of millions of people during the best of times, let alone your body is failing and your home life is disintegrating before your eyes.
I catch his eye and smile at him. For a fleeting moment, as he looks at me, I feel my heart break for him. I know how much Wimbledon means to him. His physical pain and the emotional pain that he is going through right now are more then anyone so young should have to bare. I want to reach out to him, but I am being moved along in the flow of the people around me. I give him a nod. I hope that he will understand that I am thinking of him. As I walk past him, he stands and walks back into the locker rooms, no doubt to collect his things.
Wait. This is crazy. My friend is in pain and I cannot stand here and pretend I don't see it. I raise my hand and silence the questions.
"Please excuse me for a moment. I'm very sorry. Please. We can continue shortly, ok?" I see their looks of bewilderment. I put on my best smile and push past them. I move out of the circle of their cameras and microphones. I walk into the locker room and breath a sigh of relief at the privacy and silence that I find here, once the doors have closed.
It only takes a moment to find him. His bags and rackets are lining the floor and his clothes are spilling from his locker. He is sitting with his head in his hands. I approach him quietly, cautiously. We've been 'tennis friends' for years, but it's never been much more then that. I don't know if he will appreciate my intrusion or if it will only embarrass him.
"Rafa?" I sit down next to him. He looks at me, asking so many questions with his eyes. Questions that I don't have the answers for. All I can do is wrap my arms around him and pull him in close. He stiffens for a brief second and then melts against me. He breaths out a heavy sigh and I feel him relax. I can't stay. There are people waiting for me. Obligations. But for right now, at this moment, this is the most important place for me to be.