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fic rec: el café y la poesía (tennis rpf)

el café y la poesía

carlos alcaraz/jannik sinner. 3k, rated t.

"Nobody's gonna believe you actually yell at your coach, you know." "Why not? He's really annoying." "You want me to believe you regularly get mad enough at Juan Carlos to start a fight, but you're not mad at me? Really?" "What, do you want me to be mad at you?" "No. Probably? I don't know." Jannik hesitates a moment. "Maybe I think it would be easier. I just feel like I've disappointed you in some way. And I don't know how exactly, so I can only guess." And how could he not guess, Carlos thinks with an edge of something approaching hysteria. How could he not outright know, after all this time, after everything.

After the Beijing final.

read on ao3

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post-beijing fic by the usual suspect (anon bff). all i'm going to say is: brace yourself. :) (and read it!!!)