"I just miss you," Art mumbles into his phone, laid on yet another hotel bed, half way across the world from you. It's the one side of the tour that he hates, being so far away from you, for so long at a time. If he had his way, he'd take you everywhere with him. Fly you out to all the stops along the tour, just to keep you close to him. "It's not that late." He lies, looking over to the clock in the room. 2:17am.

He knew you were struggling with the distance too, it wasn't as though it was putting a strain on your relationship, no, nothing like that. It just meant a lot of late nights, early mornings, to make sure the two of you could talk as much as you could. The timezones were the biggest issue, but Art would always make sure he kept your timezone at the top of his list on his phone. Never calling you when you'd be sleeping, he'd stay up all night in his timezone if it meant he could hear your voice. See your face on the screen. Talking about anything you wanted until the morning.

You'd always tell him off when you finally realised how late it was for him, in whatever city he was in. Warn him he'll have dark circles for press conferences, or get in trouble with his coach for being too tired. He couldn't care less. He'd take the lack of sleep any day of the week for more hours talking to you.

"Okay, maybe it's a little late." You could hear the smirk in his voice through the phone, as you finally googled the time where he was. You could barely keep up with where he was half the time, as a tournament ended and a new one started. Your phone calls and facetimes were the only thing that kept you sane, hearing his sweet voice or seeing those blonde curls on the other side of the screen.

"I don't need to go to sleep, I need to talk to you," Art almost pouts, the phone rested on his stomach as he lays staring at the ceiling, your voice on speaker sounding around the empty room.