Tension radiated from every crevice of the court. The spectators looked from side to side, some chanted, "Zweig!" and some chanted, "Donaldson!"

Art could feel the tension, it was almost palpable, it seemed as if the space could be cut with a knife. Donaldson cast occasional glances back and forth at you - you were sitting in the very center of the coaching staff - and then at Zweig, who was preparing to throw a pitch. Donaldson's puppy dog eyes silently sought encouragement in your tenacious gaze.

Art knew full well that this win was important. Not so much for him, but for you. Tennis was always a priority, he just silently agreed with you, anything to keep you happy. But maybe he just wanted a quiet life with just you and him. Somewhere on the islands, cuddled up together, looking at the moon.

——

Victory.

It was a tense and exciting game. Donaldson was raring to go, looking for you with almost childlike anticipation among the other coaches and enthusiastic fans. He was a goddamn winner. Now he could convince you of his resignation.

As soon as you yourself approached him, he nuzzled you with a wide smile, his hand creeping to your lower back, making your position more confident his massive figure slouched beside you. His blue eyes literally hallowed, as if he had a bloody deity in front of him, blinding you with his aura.

"Are you satisfied with me?" A quiet plea slipped into his panting tone as his lips pressed against your ear. He was sure things would change now. You were his priority, not tennis. So this victory is another way to prove his loyalty to you. He's just a lost puppy who finally found his master.