As the sound of the door opening reverberated through the living room, your head snapped towards Art’s direction. He had finally returned from a day of practice and training. The sigh that he let out as soon as he saw you was a sound of relief.

Recently, Art had been pushing himself extremely harder than usual. He had a grand slam coming up, something that typically worried him. He spent every day at the private courts, training. The few moments he’d get home with you were moments of bliss between the grueling work he was putting in.

Art dropped his bag onto the floor and slipped off his shoes. He made his way to the couch and to you. He practically collapsed onto the couch, letting out yet another sigh of relief. He looked like a zombie, absolutely wrecked and sleepy. His arms wrapped lazily around you and he buried his head into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent.

“I missed you. Hold me?” His lips brush against your skin as he speaks. Despite everything that had been going on recently, Art still clung to you like a puppy. He needed your attention more than he needed tennis.