love all
'I knew I'd find you here.'
She heard the all familiar voice startling her. With a huff, she turned to him and scowled.
'You're breaking my concentration.'
He only chuckled. 'Sorry.'
Her blue eyes were following his movement as he walked across the lawn towards the bench, where all of her belongings were. She didn't move from her spot, nor did she say anything. Her attention was occupied by the redhead dressed in his all-white attire, who was pulling out a new racket from his bag.
'You're staring.'
He didn't need to turn to feel her gaze burning holes on his back. After all, it wasn't the first time she did that.
'No, I'm not.' She replied defensively, before looking away, though she couldn't really hide her flushing cheeks. One hand was bouncing the yellow ball on the grass, while the other was gripping on her racket. 'I was only wondering why you're here.'
'Because I'm not supposed to be here until tomorrow?'
She didn't reply. Tossing the ball into the air, she then hit it across the court, making a big serve. The ball landed on the centre line, just how she wanted it.
'Your father was right. Your serving game has definitely improved.'
She almost jumped when she heard him talking from behind her. The close proximity made her heart beat a little faster, or maybe it was just the shock.
'Don't sneak up on me like that, Hans!' She scolded, as she adjusted her white sun visor. 'So, Papa sent you here.'
The redhead shrugged, bouncing the ball multiple times. 'Not exactly.' He did a serve, and the ball touched the net before landing on the grass.
'Let!' She called. Raising a blonde brow, with hands on her waist, she faced him. 'Explain.'
He turned to face her, green eyes staring into her curious blue ones, and he smiled. 'Actually yes, Agnarr did send me here earlier so that I can help you practice.'
'And?' She inquired.
He took a step closer to her, a smile played on his lips. 'And I want to give all my support to the defending champion.'
He uses that tone, she thought quietly. One that sent shivers down her spine. One she heard when it was only the two of them. And she smiled. Despite the knowledge of him taking advantage of her, something she found out only recently, she flashed him a smile, a genuine one. Because she was just as guilty as he was.
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fifteen-love
'Anna is not coming.' She let out. 'Again.'
It wasn't unusual for her younger and only sister to not coming to her pre-match practice sessions. And it seemed like that day was no exception.
She admitted, she longed for her little sister's energetic self as she watched her practicing. Anna always knew what to say, especially before the match. She always told her to keep her cool and hold to love, the term refers to winning the game while serving. As a big hitter, it wasn't unusual for Elsa to win a game by hitting as many aces. And usually this trick resulted in another victory.
'Oh.' He let out, as he placed a hand on her shoulder in attempt to comfort her. 'But she is still coming to your match, isn't she?'
She nodded weakly. 'Yes, she is.'
Deep down, Elsa wished that she could undo what she had done in the past. That one time she accidentally hurt her sister was the main reason why her parents decided to limit Anna's contact with the tennis court, despite the fact that Agnarr and Iduna were both retired tennis players, and they spent a lot of time on court, coaching Elsa and Hans.
'You're blaming yourself again.'
He could read her like a book. After all, they have spent a lot of time together, both on and off court, the past three years.
'No, I'm not.' She scoffed. 'Let's just continue, shall we?'
Hans nodded. Making his way to the baseline on the other end, he carefully observed her. There was a slight anger and annoyance whenever that topic was brought up. He knew about the incident and the guilt that had been haunting her for years. But he didn't press her any further, afraid that he would only break her focus from her second round match ahead.
'Focus, Elsa.' She muttered to herself, bouncing the ball a few times before hitting a serve, a big one.
To turn one's anger into an advantage, you have to focus it on something. Her father's words echoed in her mind, as she returned the ball back to Hans. Through your serve. You shall hit the ball as hard as you like, as long as you know where to aim perfectly. You should aim for the centre line or the corner of the service box to hit an ace. Remember, don't hit your opponent, no matter how angry you are at them.
As someone who is easily driven by her emotions, Elsa often used this as an advantage, especially when things got heated during a match. Only there was one unlucky victim of her big serve, Anna. Her sister was standing too close that day, when she was practicing with her father, and the ball hit her sister right on her left shoulder, fracturing the bones.
'Elsa!' Her hitting partner's shout startled her, and she froze on her spot.
Her eyes widened with fear once she realised what she had done. She almost hit his lower torso with her volley.
'Hans!' She sprinted across the lawn and casually jumped over the net. 'I'm so sorry.'
Hans grinned, but it slowly faded as he noticed her knitted brows. 'It's alright. I managed to protect my precious body part with my racket.'
But that didn't ease the uneasiness. She almost hit him, nonetheless.
'Hey, Elsa.' He caressed her cheek with his free hand. 'It's alright.'
Almost immediately, her gaze softened, as she stared up at his smiling face. Biting her lower lip, she finally managed a small nod.
'I'm alright.' He reassured for the last time. 'Let's take a break.'
It wasn't the first time that she almost hit him. In fact, she did it quite often, especially during the first year her father assigned him as her hitting partner. It was almost as if she used him as her punching bag. And at some point, she admitted that she did.
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thirty-love
'Papa is fond of you.' Elsa said during another private practice session.
He was focusing on the yellow balls hurled by the ball machine on the other end of the court, returning the balls back with various shots. The sun was slowly setting, but he didn't stop practicing, even after his coach had left the court. And it seemed like his hitting partner decided to stay and watch him, even after she had earned herself another victory.
'Not that I didn't know that. I mean, he was the one assigning you as my hitting partner for the past years because you're one of his best students, Hans. And he once mentioned how you remind him of himself.'
It made his heart swelled with pride, a small smile played on his lips. A recognition. Of course he already knew that. He was personally coached by Agnarr Arendelle himself, and he was often told that his style of playing was almost similar to the ten time Grand Slam champion's, especially the one-hand backhand. But hearing it from someone else, especially her, meant something to him.
'And why are you bringing this up now?' He inquired, still not taking his eyes off the balls. 'Not that I'm complaining, Elsa.'
By the time he returned the last ball with a volley, he was drenched in sweat. Turning to where she was seated, he saw her patting the space beside her on the bench. With a smile, he made his way over.
'I thought I could give you some words of encouragement, ahead of your big match tomorrow.' Once she noticed his sweaty form, Elsa pulled out a fresh towel from his tennis bag and began to dab it gently on the side of his face, over the growing facial hair. He caught her hand, but she sternly said, 'Allow me.'
He scowled. 'But I'm all sweaty and you have showered.'
'So?' With a raised brow, she began to dry his face, his auburn hair, his neck, then she stopped. Her gaze landed on his white shirt clinging to his body. 'Uh, you should take it off.'
'If you say so.' Hans smirked, and he began to remove his shirt. Elsa tried to look away, to hide her flushing cheeks, before she finally handed him the towel. 'You may do it yourself.'
He chuckled, noticing the pinkish colour on her fair skin. He would be lying if he said he didn't find her adorable. She wasn't just adorable, she was gorgeous, with her long platinum blonde hair framing her slightly round face, her mauve lips curving into a smile, and her mesmerising blue eyes which reminded him of clear winter sky of his hometown.
It just happened, the day he realised that he cared deeply for the current world number three in women's tennis. It was a month prior, when they both won their second mixed doubles title on a Grand Slam tournament played on clay. He couldn't tell if she was feeling the same way, but after catching her staring at him once in a while, he had a small hope. The only thing getting on the way was his past intentions.
'So, are you ready for tomorrow?' She asked, once she knew he had put on a clean shirt.
'I'm playing the defending champion himself, what do you think?' He took a sip from his water bottle.
Elsa shrugged. 'That you are ready?'
He only scoffed, as he was reminded of his upcoming opponent.
'Oh, come on, Hans! I don't think Eugene is that intimidating. He is a pusher, yes. Just hit as many short slices and drop shots, and make him play the net.' She let out a grin, placing a hand on his arm, making him turn to face her. 'Besides, you've been practicing a lot lately. You did great on the first three rounds, I'm sure you will be fine.'
He glanced at her, eyes tracing over the faint freckles on her face, to the small nose, until his gaze settled on her mauve lips. He gulped, quickly darting his attention back to her blue eyes. 'Easy for you to say, you're the Queen of the grass court. Grass isn't exactly my favourite surface.'
Elsa's gaze softened. 'Don't doubt yourself, Hans. It's so not you.' She gave his arm a light squeeze. 'I'm proud of you.'
It was enough encouragement for him, as his thin lips curved into a smile. He was touched by her kind words, and it made him feel guilty for somewhat using her to get to where he was. Being connected to the Arendelle family, basically tennis royalties, has its perks; fancy clubs membership, first class flights, direct links to sponsorships, even links to exhibition tournaments–which was basically a goldmine. He made a good use of the opportunities. He took his chances. And he fell in love.
Maybe he could try to undo it all, starting with a search for a new coach. Winning this tournament meant that he could prove himself. Maybe he could do that. He had to.
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forty-love
Hans lost the match.
It might be understandable from the public eye, for he was only the world number twenty five playing against the current world number one, who was also the defending champion of the tournament. Besides, it was clear who won the crowd's favouritism.
He did expect it too. He wasn't unfamiliar to the idea of losing, especially to a defending champion, since he had gone through similar experiences before. But what he disliked was the fact that he was defeated in straight sets.
'Game, set, and match, Fitzherbert. Straight sets, six-three, seven-six, six-four.'
It was humiliating for him, and for a brief second, he wanted to disappear. He had to hold his anger when a journalist—though obviously mistaken, congratulated him while he was actually losing the match. The whole post-match press conference felt like a torture, with stupid questions about his loss. Once he was allowed to leave the conference room, he quickly made his way towards the locker room.
'Hans!'
He didn't turn.
'Hans! Talk to me!'
His grip on the white towel draped over his neck tightened. He couldn't face her, not after he had made a fool out of himself. Not able to prove himself to her.
'Go away, Elsa.' He stated coldly.
But she didn't care. She stormed in after him and got a hold of his arm so he could face her. She noticed the scowl on his face, matching her own.
'Don't you dare pushing me away!'
'What, so you can humiliate me even more?'
She let go of his arm, her frown deepened. 'What's wrong with you?'
Hans looked away, letting his tennis bag hit the floor with a thud. 'I lost.'
'So, what? You can try again.' She pressed him. 'You always do.'
At this, he looked up, glaring at her. 'You don't understand.'
'Then, make me!' By now, she didn't care whether the locker room was completely empty or not. She wanted him to talk to her, to explain what made him lose all the coolness. 'This is so unlike you, Hans.'
He scoffed. 'Then you certainly don't know me, Elsa. This isn't about you. You win all the time, with ease I should add. And don't say that you understand how I feel because you don't.'
'But I do, Hans. Talk to me, let me help you. You were always there for me when I lost a match, let me help you now.'
His glare didn't soften as he took a step forward, towering over her. 'You've helped me enough, Elsa. Now I suggest you leave. I don't need your spoiled self here to lecture me about things you don't really understand.'
Elsa couldn't believe his words. Is that what he thinks of me? And without saying anything else, she turned to leave. What she didn't know was the pain on his face when he watched her walk away from him.
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game
'Papa said that after this tournament ends, you wish to part ways.' She panted heavily, regretting her decision in running all the way from the house her family rented for the tournament to where he was staying.
Hans was just arriving when he heard a loud banging on the door, only to find Elsa scowling with flushing cheeks and fury glares. Not wanting to have his housemates overheard their upcoming conversation, he led her to the garden at the back of the house. And there they were, standing under the dim of the moonlight.
'Is that true?'
He looked away, taking a deep breath before answering. 'Yes.'
'Why?' It was calmer, unlike the cold tone she used when she first arrived there. 'Why are you like this today, Hans? You lost one match and suddenly you shut me out.'
He let out a light chuckle. 'You lost one match,' he repeated, mocking her. 'A match is a match, Elsa. You know that.'
'Fine, so it's my fault, then. Tell me, what did I do wrong?' She took a step closer to him, touching his arm gently. He flinched, but he stayed still. 'I know how much you want to prove yourself, Hans. I know how much you want to win. I can see it in your eyes, because most of the time I, too, feel that way.'
'It's not you, Elsa.' He sighed, running his free hand over his auburn hair. 'It's me. If I told you, you would despise me.'
Elsa let go of his arm, her gaze landed on his face, still facing away from her. 'I've helped you enough, haven't I, Hans? Like how I let you take advantage of me.'
At this, he quickly turned to her, eyes widened. He slightly paled.
'The private court, my father as your coach, those exhibition matches, and the sponsorships. You get to live all the privileges that come from me and my family.' She added, a blonde brow raised high. 'I was wondering when you would come clean.'
Hans lowered his gaze, too ashamed. 'I'm sorry.'
Surprisingly, Elsa placed a hand under his chin to lift his head. She searched for something in his eyes, sincerity perhaps. After all, the eyes are the windows to the soul, isn't it what they said? She tried to read him. There were so many questions she had for him.
'Why?' She asked. 'What changed?'
'You.' She didn't expect the answer coming out of his mouth. 'You changed me, Elsa. Believe it or not, you're the one that makes me want to keep going. Whenever we play the same tournaments, like Miami, or Brisbane, even any Grand Slam tournaments, I longed for your prep talk. You treat me with kindness—you and your family. I guess I overstayed your welcome.'
Her gaze softened. 'I believe you.'
'I don't expect you to.' He stated.
For a moment, they said nothing, only two figures standing under the moonlight in Wimbledon. It wasn't entirely his fault, she realised. After all, her father did see a potential in him long before he came into her life. Hans was a student in Arendelle Tennis Academy in her hometown, Norway, one of her father's best and favourite students. And when he was assigned as her hitting partner, and they travelled the world together, tournament after tournament, she knew he was given all the opportunities. She was the door to those privileges, and she let him. But the question still remained.
'Why now?' She finally broke the ice, blue eyes darted nowhere but at him.
It was a moment he dreaded the most. But sooner or later, he would have to confess. 'Because I realised something.' He gulped. 'I think I'm in love wi—'
Before he could finish, she cut him off by pressing his lips with hers. His eyes widened in shock, before he eventually he gave in, closing his eyes and kissing her back. He ran a hand on her waist, pulling her closer, the other was cupping her jaw. He was desperate in tasting her, wanting to let her know how sorry he was. And she let him, once again.
After a while, they finally pulled away breathlessly. With his forehead rested on hers, they tried to catch their breath, filling their lungs with the cool night air. He didn't dare opening his eyes, afraid that he might be waking up anytime soon and it was just a dream.
'I've been taking advantage of you too.'
Hearing her words, his eyes fluttered open. Not only did he realise that he wasn't dreaming, but also he was reminded of his own sin. He did take an advantage of her, but did she?
She was cupping his jaws as she admitted, 'I may or may not have hit you purposefully. Especially when I was so angry after a loss.'
'Elsa, I—'
'You're right, Hans, I don't understand how you are feeling, but I do understand how it feels to lose a match. It's a part of the match, you see. In a competition, there's winning and there's losing. It may taste bitter, but we can all learn from it.'
Once she finished, Hans was left speechless. There were some truths in her words, and the way she said it, full of sincerity, only added the guilt in him.
'Elsa, I want to make it right. I overstayed your hospitality, and I guess I should go on my own way now.' He finally said. 'And I'm sorry for calling you spoiled. You are nowhere near spoiled.'
Elsa smiled, stroking his cheek gently. 'It's alright. And I know how you can make it right.'
'What is it?' He leaned to her gentle touch, pulling her closer by her waist.
'I want you to tell Papa that you don't wish to part ways, at least until the end of this season.' She leaned to kiss his nose, before pulling away. 'He enjoys your company, and so do I.' Taking a step back, she blew him a kiss. 'I'll see you tomorrow before my semi-final match, Hans.'
He followed her with his gaze, still trying to process what just happened. And he realised that he didn't get to finish his confession. He enjoys your company and so do I. Does that mean that she may feel the same way?
Hans didn't want to dwell on those uncertainties, but he knew that kiss meant something. And he was smiling, tracing his fingers over his lips.
On court, love means nothing. But does it mean something, now that they are off court? Love has a lot of meaning after all.
So, that is the ending. Happy Helsa Week everyone! I hope you enjoy this one. See you on the next prompt I've written!