Chapter Text
Alessandro Si is a child prodigy. The young teenager is currently ranked 125 in the world, representing the Italian flag. Not much is known about the rising star other than his competitive nature and relentless composure in every match. His debut in the ATP Tour became the most anticipated event as the season began.
Off the court, Sandro resides between Italy and Monaco. It is believed that his family has always prioritized privacy over anything. Sometimes people do wonder what kind of home he's raised in or how he's trained to be this good at a young age.
The flight to Australia was just him sleeping in the private plane, barely opening the snacks prepared for him. He had done this so many times, he was used to flying, jet lag, and a tournament calendar that he's still trying to figure out. They had traveled with his team—his coaches, physio, familiar faces that he had been surrounded with since he was a kid.
Just a few rows in front is a popular tennis player. The world number 2 settled in his seat with ease. Although this might be the last time he's going down the steps as an active player, he's been hinting at retirement for years. Sandro hopes it's not the time yet. He can't bear the thought.
Sandro's mind wandered to Australia. It's not his first visit but still, he feels nervous about the possibility of facing the best athletes in the sport. He's not even sure if he'll have the opportunity to be part of the tournament given his ranking. Maybe, a wildcard entry but that would depend on decisions usually late.
Whatever, Sandro thinks.
In his peripheral view, he caught sight of his coaches in quiet conversation. He looked at them and couldn't help but feel a rush of nostalgia.
His team whose life he uprooted to join this sport. His team that has been protecting him since that exhibition game in tennis where he got scouted.
The people whom he consider his family. Not by blood, but by love.
"Sandro, are you okay buddy?" he hears Reily ask.
This has prompted almost everyone to look at his direction, most of them with worried faces.
He didn't even felt the tears streaming down his eyes until Jannik was by his side.
His papa keeping him grounded, holding him as he cried in his papa's embrace.
Their respective teams went back to what they are doing, giving them privacy.
Jannik hugged him tighter, carding through his hair-a gesture he knows by heart. A soothing action to comfort him.
"„Tut dir etwas weh?" Does something hurt?
Sandro, still in his papa's arms, shakes his head.
How can something hurt when he's been protected since he was a baby?
When Jannik, despite busy with all his responsibilities, never thought of giving him up for adoption and continue living life as one of the best athletes in the world?
He's not hurt.
He's grateful.
✩✩✩✩
They arrived in the hotel. A suite with two rooms have been allocated for Jannik and Sandro while their teams are in another two rooms. One for Team Jannik and one for Team Sandro.
A spacious living room that can be their common area, especially when draws are announced or when they just want to unwind and play board games. There's also a kitchen where Sandro's sure will be filled with their trainer-approved meals.
Feeling the jet lag kicking in, Sandro sighed loud enough for Jannik to hear. His father just chuckled, a fond smile plastered on his face.
"Go take a nap if you want to beat Flavio tomorrow."
Sandro almost forgot the charity match he's magically been selected to join.
"Si. Buona notte, Papà." he said in Italian, walking to his room.