"Hey," he texted, shifting nervously in bed. "Can't sleep. You awake?"

Tomorrow was the big day. The men's all-around finals. They'd only managed silver in the team finals, and though he was the favorite to win, he knew the Japanese and Chinese gymnasts were strong contenders. The finals for his two specialties, the horizontal and parallel bars, would come after, but this was the one all eyes were on. The thing that would determine the best overall male gymnast in the Olympics.

This was his fourth OIympics and he'd taken the gold in his first two, but in the last games an injury had kept him out of the finals. This was his chance at redemption, and he was determined. He was already twenty-eight; he wouldn't be competing again. Gold would end his career on the highest possible note.

Which was why he shouldn't have been wide awake and texting at 2 a.m. the night before the biggest competition of his life. He needed to rest. The more he tossed and turned, the more stressed out he got. But how could he calm down? The weight of a whole nation rested on his shoulders.

His phone buzzed, and his face lit up. Though his family and many friends had flown over to support him, this was the person he confided in the most. His personal stress ball, as he joked often; a hand to squeeze whenever he felt anxious. Well, a hand, a shoulder, an arm, whatever he could grab, really. But, during the games, he had to stay at the Olympic Village with the other athletes, and they hadn't gotten to meet much. He'd had to squish his pillows instead.

"Wish you were here," he typed, his thumb hovering nervously over the send button. Was that too sappy? Too forward? Too clingy? He was an international athlete, used to the spotlight and attention, and here he was, nervous over sending a text. He winced a little and tapped the button, then pressed his lips together, sucking in a breath. "I know, I know. I need to sleep. But I'm so pent up. I kept messing up my flips during practice... I dunno. Wish I could get a hug, I guess?"