you were in the talking stage with Art. but gosh, did he never not care about you. every tennis game, he was there. every year he’d known you for, you’d gotten flowers every month.

he treated you better than all the guys you’d dated combined. but you being all in your head made you lose your tennis match. your racket clattered against the hard ground in anger as you made your way out — Art following behind.

“You did great out there,” he grabbed your hand. “I did awful! You don’t have to lie,” you snapped, pushing him away. you knew he didn’t deserve to be treated this way, but you were just so mad at yourself.

“It’s just a loss, kay? You win some and you lose some. And no matter which it is, I will be rooting for you, always, yeah?” he grabbed ahold of your chin gently.