Chapter Text
Tommy was flipping out, metaphorically, not physically yet. It wasn’t quite everyday that invitations were sent out for aspiring gymnasts to train at the Lilleshall National Sports Centre. Especially not for a rowdy sixteen year old like himself. While his coaches back in Nottingham had assured him that he deserved this opportunity, through his pure talent and skill, it still seemed unreal to the teen.
His airpods played some unidentifiable lofi song from his chill beats playlist and his leg bounced, a combination of nerves and habit. He lifted his water bottle to his lips and took a long drawl. It took a lot of restraint to not collapse from the anxiety of it all, his stomach had been turning all morning, something probably related to the greasy sausages he’d inhaled and the anxiety of the whole situation.
He’d figured that the hour and a half ride would be enough to quell his nerves but if anything, it merely exemplified it. Watching the comforting sights of Nottingham fade into the distance and those of Lilleshall appear made the teen even more antsy than he was previously.
It was definitely worth it though. This had been the dream, his dream since he was a child rolling around on mats with nothing more on his mind than somersaults and cartwheels. Of course arguably every young child in gymnastics has the dream of competing in the Olympics and representing their country, but how many actually achieve that?
But here he was, sitting in the passenger seat of his mom’s old, beat up Ford Fiesta, on his way to go train with Olympians and those at comparable skill level. Tommy thumbed his phone, switching from his messages to a chrome tab where a news article was open, depicting just which elite gymnasts trained at Lilleshall.
Having been obsessed with the sport since the ripe age of two when his parents had found him sprawled out in his crib in seemingly uncomfortable positions and decided to toss him into a nursery school gymnastics program- Tommy knew the names of practically every recent, competitive elite gymnast.
The article listed off names such as Technoblade Watson, Wilbur Soot, Jack Manifold and even some famous female gymnasts such as Niki Nihachu. The combination of being both a history and gymnastics nerd was quite nice. The article also touched on the famed coach, Philza Minecraft and his Olympic days. Rereading the same article which described the intensity of the training program and insane skill level of these gymnasts did absolutely nothing to ease Tommy’s stomach pain. He took another swig out of his water bottle and ran his fingers over the dent lodged at the bottom near the logo as a result of the amount of times he’d dropped it.
“Tom, don’t finish off your water before practice even starts, you don’t want to be running to the loo repeatedly.” His mom sighed, readjusting her grip on the steering wheel.
Tommy placed a hand against his temple before sighing, “Can’t a man just be thirsty?” He joked weakly trying to distract himself from what seemed to be his oncoming doom.
“Don’t let your nerves get the best of you, just remember that you deserve to be there just as much as everyone else in that gym.” His mom stated, turning into a parking lot bigger than his entire house. To be fair, Nottingham wasn’t exactly known for having spacious housing or whatever.
Tommy took a deep breath before opening the car door and grabbing his gym bag, which had been resting against his feet for the entire trip.
“Good luck! You’ll smash it!” Tommy whipped his head around at his mom who was waving excitedly through the car window.
The building of the training centre itself is quite massive. It resembled some sort of castle, perhaps something tailored more towards the conference calls and other events that took place there beyond elite sports. After receiving his invitation to train there, he’d spent hours pouring over the website and investigating the glory of every facility, ranging from courts to the cafe. His obsessive phase should’ve been enough to confidently guide him around and through the area, but Tommy felt that his feet were glued to the ground.
It wasn’t until some woman briskly walked past him, clutching a badminton racket tightly that he was snapped out of his trance. Tommy shook his head and gripped the strap of his bag even tighter.
The welcome centre was overwhelming in itself, but he focused his attention right in the center of the spacious room at the front desk and the man working there.
“Uh hey, I’m here for um, gymnastics?” Tommy stammered out, his face flushing deep red.
“Sure mate, can I see your identification, registration papers and vaccine card?” The man, who according to his name tag, was Jared, gestured broadly towards his bag.
“Ahah yep of course, got those, one second.” Tommy twisted his bag around and reached inside, grabbing the manilla folder and handed it over to Jared. The man took it, opened it and then quickly flipped through the various papers.
“You’re all good to go, just head on down to Kings Hall and Princess Royal Hall, that’s where all the gymnastics stuff is.” Jared nodded, before moving towards a filing cabinet and placing the folder and documents inside.
“Awesome thanks.” Tommy spun on his heel and raced down towards the hall. His heart started to race even faster as he identified Kings Hall in the distance, in a split second, he directed his eyes to his bag and reached for his phone, just to slam into a wall.
Except, he hadn’t seen a wall coming? And walls didn’t typically produce hot liquid.
Tommy looked up and his jaw dropped, he was standing face to face with a very familiar pink haired man, who also happened to be holding an open thermos of what smelled like tea. Said tea also happened to be dripping down both of their shirts.
In a second of recognition, Tommy’s heart had dropped further than it had all day, he’d just physically ran right into Technoblade Watson, the Olympian. And in true, Tommy Innit fashion, a comment was necessary.
“I- uh, fuck you?” Tommy stammered out, meeting Techno’s glare.
Oh he was so fucked.