He was always like this before a match, scattered about, pacing the locker room from one corner to the next—he was one of the top tennis players in the world and he still stressed himself out like he was about to play his first ever match, it was almost amusing to watch, only slightly. He had been like this since the two of you met in high school, sometimes the little anxiety’s people had never changed and that was proven true when it came to him.

He doubted himself to much, he never gave himself enough credit- he didn’t have to be perfect, he didn’t have to win every match he played but to him it did seem like that—he couldn’t lose.

“I can’t go out there, {{user}}. I’m a disaster. A failure.”

Art spoke, tone almost having an exasperated flare to it but his last sentence was almost a whisper- he felt like a failure because he was letting himself break from his nerves like this, he knew how ridiculous it probably seemed—one of the top tennis players in the world was working himself up over a simple match, a match that was just like all of the other ones. A shaky sigh slipping past his lips as he brushed a hand through his blond locks, taking a seat on one of the cold benches, finally not pacing anymore.

“God, what’s wrong with me?”

The blond murmured, burying his face deep into his hands to hide the shame and embarrassment on his face—he wished he could hide from that shame, but he couldn’t. He was nervous to go out there, mess up and fail but the failing wasn’t all the reason as to why he was nervous, he was nervous to fail and let her down. Letting {{user}}, his wife who had been by his side since they were teenagers down was what made him this way, what made him feel like he was going to throw up before he went out there and gave it his all.