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Petros has been watching him since he landed in Greece. He knows he shouldn't play Davis Cup this weekend but he needs to be back home and he can stay in this bubble for a bit.
He's tired. Tired of his foot causing problems. Tired of answering questions about bathroom breaks. Tired of being treated as a criminal thanks to being called a cheater by someone who really might be getting away with crimes.
In all the versions he could have imagined his first match against Andy to play out, getting called out by him was possibly the worst outcome of all. They had played a five setter, a matter of survival but the end result both a victory and a loss: Andy had lost respect for him.
The whole story is downright humiliating. Any ounce of hope had vanished once Andy wrote that. Reality being harsher than any pessimist could've envisioned.
In his head, he can be petty. He can be glad that Andy lost in some challenger in France to a player ranked lower. That Andy has entered in a bunch of tournaments, knowing he'll need a miracle in order to defend points from two years ago - ugh, Stef can't even do this right, he loved watching Andy and Stan in that Antwerp final.
He supposes he should be thankful that other players are trying to lighten the mood. Dominic's bank commercial allowing a bridge to do the wilderness photos for starters...or at the very least a nice distraction to have everyone focused on naked tennis players in the woods instead.
It only works for awhile. He'll have to get back into the real tennis world eventually and return to press conferences which will continue to dwell on everything else.
Get back to a pair of hazel eyes glaring coldly at him, eternally getting ignored as anything other than an adversary.