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Darren Cahill joins Jannik Sinner’s coaching team in June of 2022. 

He sees it right away – the kid is special. He’s powerful and precise. His movement is amazing, surely the result of all the years he spent skiing. But the thing that impresses Darren the most is his work ethic. Jannik is always focused. He puts lots of effort and energy into becoming a better and better tennis player. Darren doesn’t have to push him – he’s his own biggest motivator. He doesn’t require much guidance, on the court or off it, just some technical tips and minor advice.

Darren knows he’s going to achieve great things. He’s sure of it.

When Jannik plays Carlos Alcaraz during Wimbledon, his first with Cahill as his coach, Darren doesn’t really think anything of it.

They only faced each other once before, at least on the tour level. Darren didn’t even watch that match, having had no reason to. He knows Jannik lost that match but it doesn’t worry him. It’s a different tournament and a different surface, Jannik can beat him.

And he does. Jannik wins the match in four sets, advancing to the quarter-finals. Darren sees Alcaraz clasp his hand in congratulation when they meet at the net. Jannik offers him a tight, polite smile in response, not holding eye contact for longer than a few seconds. 

“Bravo, Jannik”, Darren tells him when he’s off the grass. “Your first win on the Centre Court. Must feel nice.” He beams at Jannik. “And, you got revenge for Paris.”

Jannik smiles back, albeit tentatively. “Yes. But I have to focus on the next match now.”

“Of course, of course”, he says, patting Sinner on the back. “That’s the attitude, champ.”

There is no reason for Darren to suspect how important the rivalry with Alcaraz will become to Jannik. Not yet.

The first final Sinner and Alcaraz play against each other is in Umag. Jannik wins that match too and Darren is proud of his player. 

As he observes the trophy ceremony, he notices Jannik laughing and chatting with Alcaraz. It surprises Darren a little – the stark difference between their cold interaction in London and this. Darren didn’t think they were friends. He rarely sees them talk, they usually only greet each other in passing. But maybe he was wrong. After all he’s only been Jannik’s coach for a month. 

He smiles as he watches them, Jannik’s mouth stretched wide and Alcaraz’s face lit up with joy. They’re not looking at the fireworks going off in the sky, their eyes instead trained on each other. 

Darren keeps clapping in appreciation.

“I didn’t know you and Alcaraz were friends”, he says to Jannik later, his eyebrow quirked up. Jannik frowns, looking almost… offended. 

“We’re not. Why would you think that?”, he asks, sounding genuinely confused. Darren is puzzled.

“Well, you were chatting and giggling the entire ceremony”, he explains. “You’re practically the same age. He’s apparently very friendly. And you’ve known each other for a couple years”, he lists. “Why wouldn’t you be friends?”

Jannik scoffs. “He’s too friendly. It’s not…” He searches for the right word. “...natural. No normal person is this nice all the time. He’s— fake. He must be”, Jannik concludes, the warmth radiating off him just minutes earlier completely gone. 

Darren shakes his head in astonishment. Then, he questions, “What if he’s not?”

“I’m here to win, not to make friends.”

Darren nods, his lips pursed. “Alright. Just… Be careful, okay? You’re a person first, a tennis player second.”

But Jannik doesn’t look like he agrees with him.

Their US Open quarter-final is an instant classic. It goes on for five grueling hours, leaving Darren completely exhausted, even though he’s not the one giving his all on the court. 

When Jannik loses, Darren sees the disappointment on his sweaty face, despite him trying to conceal it. A grimace appears on Jannik’s face for just a split second before he hides it away. When the Australian looks at Alcaraz, his expression is compassionate, his brows furrowed slightly. He’s obviously happy he won but there is a worried glint in his eyes when he approaches the net to hug Jannik. 

The Italian lets the hug last for only a heartbeat before moving to pack his bags and leave the court.

Darren’s eyes linger on the Spaniard. His gaze follows Jannik out of the arena, something in them that Darren doesn’t dare to name. 

“He seemed sincere in his interview, you know?”, Darren tells Jannik when they’re leaving the Arthur Ashe Stadium. Jannik doesn’t reply. “Don’t you wanna know what he said about you?”

Jannik shrugs. “No”, he says but the faint quiver in his voice betrays him. 

“Are you sure?”, Darren asks again, a gentle hand on Jannik’s shoulder. 

“I— It doesn’t matter. I lost. I don’t care for his pity.”

“Oh, Jan… The kid seems to genuinely respect and even admire you. I don’t understand why you’re so aloof when it comes to him.”

Jannik glares at him. “He’s my rival. We’re supposed to be at each other’s throats, not… Never mind.”

Darren sighs. “What about Federer and Nadal? Or Borg and McEnroe?”

“Why do you care anyway? If you like Alcaraz so much, maybe you should go and coach him instead.”

“Jannik—”

“Leave me alone.”

So Darren does.

Over the years, not much changes. Jannik faces Alcaraz multiple times, winning some matches and losing others. 

Darren drops the issue of Jannik’s unreasonable dislike for the Spaniard after making sure the Italian knows he has to play nice and be at least civil in public. But he still doesn’t understand why Jannik hates the boy.

Darren likes him. So does Vagnozzi. So does Alex. Everyone does, really. He’s a good kid. Sometimes Darren thinks Jannik must be jealous of him. But the Australian believes Jannik can be even better than Alcaraz. And he knows Jannik believes it too. So…

What is it about Carlos that irks him so much?

The 2025 Roland Garros final breaks Darren’s heart. 

Jannik is gracious at the net, even though Darren can see his limbs shaking, both from exhaustion and anguish, as he congratulates Alcaraz. The Spaniard smiles at him. His expression is victorious, yes, but not… mean. Nevertheless, Jannik grips his hand tight, as if trying to, figuratively, crush his bones. 

Maybe he sees something in his eyes that Darren fails to spot from such a distance.

When the Italian turns in the direction of his box, Darren’s chest constricts painfully. Seeing Jannik so dejected, defeated and sad makes him feel like he failed. 

God, he was supposed to help him see this through. Maybe if he gave him more pointers, or if he cheered more loudly, loudly enough to drown out Alcaraz’s supporters…

But—

He’s also proud. So, so proud. 

Not only of the way Jannik played today – like a true champion – but most importantly of the way he carried himself after losing: with so much grace and honour, not crashing out but congratulating his rival and giving a beautiful speech, all while his chest must have been caving in. 

As Jannik is leaving the court, thunderous applause accompanies him. But no one is clapping louder than Darren. No one is prouder than he is, of Jannik the player and Jannik the man. No one.

Please don’t call me for a while

Darren receives the message on Monday evening, already back home in Nevada. It must be the middle of the night for Jannik. Darren purses his lips with worry. 

Alright, Jan. Take care of yourself. Get some sleep.

And please don’t ignore your mother’s calls.

He pauses for a moment. Then, he sighs. 

Love you, kid.

He doesn’t receive a response nor does he expect one.

The loss in Halle is a surprise to everyone bar Darren and Jannik himself. The Italian might look fine to most people, the heartbreak of Paris already forgotten, but his coach knows him better. And he’s aware that much more time will have to pass before Jannik is okay with the French Open defeat, if he ever truly is. 

“It’s okay, Jannik”, Darren tells him, his tone sympathetic. “You will be back stronger. Losses are a part of the sport—”

“I know”, Jannik says, his jaw clenched, and… 

Shit.

“Sorry, mate.” Darren winces, apologetic. “I just want you to remember that losing is how you grow as a player.” He squeezes Jannik’s arm. “And as a person”, he adds. “You will be okay.”

“I am okay”, he says with forced conviction. His gaze is empty when he looks at Darren. Soulless.

But only when you don’t look closely enough. “Jannik—”

“Drop it, Darren”, he tells him through gritted teeth. Darren keeps staring at him and after a few seconds Jannik falters. “Please.”

Cahill nods.

Jannik is asked about Alcaraz in his first Wimbledon presser. “We respect each other. He is an amazing player.” Darren knows the Italian means it, even though he claims not to. “We talk occasionally but we are not friends.” 

Alcaraz answers in a similar tone: “We are… friendly.” A generous statement. “But we’re not friends. Jannik is one of the best players on tour, probably the best right now.” Damn right, Darren thinks. “It’s a privilege to play against him.” Alcaraz sounds genuine. And Darren has no reason to believe otherwise.

The Australian doesn’t remember him ever acting malicious or disrespectful towards Jannik, at least not when Darren was around. The opposite, really. When they were younger, Darren could have sworn Carlos wanted to become friends with Jannik, approaching him during tournaments and congratulating him on his achievements on social media. He looked at Jannik with admiration.

And in return, Jannik gazed at him with envy.

Each time they played, Jannik became colder and colder, barely sparing Alcaraz a glance in their last couple of meetings. He told Darren that he wanted their dynamic to remain strictly professional. But the Australian knew his disdain for Carlos ran deeper. 

And Darren couldn’t exactly blame him. 

Alcaraz was the ATP’s starlet, the shiniest prospect. Federer loved him, Nadal praised him, Djokovic was getting beaten by him in Grand Slam finals. Meanwhile Jannik was basically invisible, though two years older and longer on the tour. It had to sting, Darren knew it. 

But he never knew Jannik to be jealous or bitter. The boy he has been coaching for three years isn’t resentful or envious. He’s composed, yes, but he’s also kind and polite. Full of charm if he’s not focused on playing a match.

For some reason, Alcaraz brings out the worst in him. At least off-court. 

Because when they play each other… Darren would describe himself as a pretty reserved person and he doesn’t throw compliments around lightly but when Jannik and Carlos face each other in a match of tennis, it’s nothing short of magical.

Jannik has always been obsessed with watching Alcaraz’s matches. Even years before their rivalry bloomed, he would analyze his game any chance he got, staring at the TV in the gym or players’ lounge whenever Alcaraz was playing, even when the Spaniard was on the other side of the draw and the chances of both of them making it to the final were slim.

Trying to talk to Jannik when Carlos’s match was on was futile. He would always stare at the screen with a fiery glint in his eyes, intensely observing the Spaniard’s every move.

He still does. 

The intensity of his gaze sometimes scares Darren. It’s like nothing else matters when Jannik’s gaze lands on Alcaraz with a tennis racquet in his hand. Not his training, not his coaches. He gets lost in a trance. And he denies it later, but the blush on his cheeks make it obvious he knows he’s guilty of this obsession.

Darren agrees that Carlos Alcaraz is a sight to behold on the court. He just wishes Jannik recognized he's just as captivating himself.

“I have to beat him, Darren. I have to get back at him”, Jannik says firmly when Cahill tells him to slow down during practice. Darren shakes his head in exasperation and glances at Simone. The Italian just shrugs, helpless. They all are when Jannik gets in this… zone.

“Listen. What you have to do is focus on playing your best tennis.” He takes Jannik by the shoulders and looks him in the eyes. There’s something defiant in them but it’s dimming as Darren holds his gaze. “You can’t compare yourself to him all the time. He’s not the measure of your worth as a tennis player.”

Jannik disagrees, “But he is!” Out of the corner of his eye, Darren catches Simone shaking his head. “He’s the player I have to beat to win titles, he’s the only one that’s a threat to me!”

This arrogance… It’s not like Jannik at all. But over the years, Cahill has gotten used to the fact that the moment the topic of Carlos Alcaraz arises, Jannik stops acting normally.

“Jannik”, Darren reprimands him. Jannik’s face gets red, his eyes escaping the Australian’s scolding stare. “You are the best player on the tour but it doesn’t mean you can disregard everyone else.” He sighs. “In Halle, you lost to Bublik.” Jannik rolls his eyes. Darren squeezes his shoulders tightly. “And you will lose against players not named Alcaraz many times more.” 

Hopefully not too many.

Jannik nods but he doesn’t seem to believe him. 

When he leaves the court, Darren asks Simone, “Do you think he will ever get over this weird obsession he has with Alcaraz?”

Vagno thinks for a moment, then shakes his head. “No. Not if they keep being direct rivals.” He stares at the grass, pensive. After a minute, he adds, “There is something about Alcaraz that brings fire out of Jannik. And it can be a good thing for him. We just have to make sure he channels that fire into his game.”

Darren is ashamed to admit it but he thought Jannik’s Wimbledon journey was over during the match against Grigor Dimitrov. As a coach, he should never lose faith in his player, especially one as talented as Jannik. He knows it. But a defeat truly felt inevitable.

Until a miracle happened.

Fortune favours the brave, the famous saying goes. And Darren realizes not many people would call Jannik brave. But they don’t know him. Darren does. He knows how hard Jannik works and how much of himself he puts into tennis. Almost all, really. They don’t know how much he sacrificed. But Darren does. To him, this kid is the bravest.

And he deserves to be where he is now.

In the 2025 Wimbledon final.

Against none other than Carlos Alcaraz, the reigning champion. 

The Spaniard is aiming to defend not only his title but also his Channel Slam. He might not have been looking his best this tournament but he is always dangerous. Jannik knows it better than anyone else. 

But Darren isn’t worried. He trusts in his player. More than he trusts in divine justice — but if it exists, it should be on Jannik’s side this time. Darren feels like a petty child but what crosses his mind is, It’s his turn now.

Darren encourages Jannik when he loses the first set. “It’s not over, Jan. It’s not over until you give up. Do not give up!”

And Jannik doesn’t. 

He plays with unusual aggression, borderline cruelty, sending the ball across the net with crazy speed and accuracy. And it works. Alcaraz looks lost and helpless. He’s getting frustrated, shouting at Ferrero. 

Jannik is making perfect decisions on the court, not even needing Darren’s input. He’s a champion in his own right. Without anyone's help. Without luck. 

Darren rises from his seat the second the match is over, cheering happily. Simone hugs him briefly. “Good job, coach”, he says with a smile.

“Right back at you, coach”, he answers, beaming.

Jannik must be over the moon because he embraces Alcaraz at the net. He doesn’t do it often, preferring a dap or a handshake. It’s Alcaraz who tends to be affectionate with his opponents. But not today. The loss must sting too much because Carlos returns the hug and quickly lets go. 

Darren doesn’t cry when Jannik receives his trophy. He doesn’t. But his eyes feel a little wet when the Italian smiles at him blindingly and lifts the golden cup into the air. 

They go back to training earlier than anticipated, per Jannik’s request. Demand, really. 

He’s tireless, refusing to take breaks, not even to hydrate.

“Jan, Jan!”, Vagno yells when Jannik keeps hitting the ball, ignoring his commands. “Cazzo, basta!” 

“Damn, Sinner, you just won Wimbledon!”, Darren yells to try and get him to stop for a moment. “Take it easy for a while!” He pinches the bridge of his nose, feeling an incoming headache. The sun is torturous today and Darren feels exhausted, despite wearing a hat and a criminal amount of sunscreen.

Jannik finally stops trying to murder the ball with his racquet and looks at Darren, his gaze annoyed. “Do you think he is resting now?”, Jannik asks. Darren doesn’t have to ask for clarification.

Neither does Simone. He scoffs incredulously. “He lost”, Vagno emphasizes. “I know you’re aware he celebrated his Roland Garros win in Ibiza.” 

Of course he’s aware, Darren thinks. He seems to be aware of everything regarding Alcaraz.

“Yeah and I beat him in the next tournament.” Darren squashes the urge to roll his eyes. You won because you were better, kid. Not because he was worse. “I won’t let him defeat me in Cincy because I didn’t work hard enough. If he wants to win he will have to take it, I won’t gift it to him”, Jannik says with conviction. He wipes the sweat off his face with the hem of his T-shirt. He looks tired but Darren knows he’s too stubborn to admit it. He picks up his racquet, determination in his eyes. “Again.”

Darren sighs. 

They don’t finish practicing until hours later.

On the day of the Cincinnati final, Jannik comes down for breakfast looking like death. His face is somehow both pale and sickly red. His eyes are glazed over. His lips are dry and cracked. Bloody.

“Jan, are you alright?”, Alex asks, sending Darren an alarming glance. Cahill sits up straighter, his gaze focused on Jannik. Worry overcomes him.

“I— I’m fine”, Jannik mumbles. His voice is quiet and weak. Simone furrows his brows, clearly concerned and not at all convinced.

“You’re not alright”, Darren accuses, albeit gently. “You look ill. I don’t think you should play.” It pains him to say it, it does, but Jannik’s health should come first. Always.

“I have to play”, he replies, his voice a bit surer than a minute ago. Darren gets it. He’s a champion; there is nothing he hates more than the idea of letting his biggest rival win with no effort. 

And I bet he mourns the possibility of not only beating Alcaraz but just… playing him, a bolder part of his brain comments. He winces. 

It’s probably true, though. Jannik gets strangely excited whenever a chance to face Alcaraz arises. And Darren has a feeling it’s more complicated than just looking forward to playing someone who can actually challenge him. 

But Jannik has always been weird about him. It doesn’t surprise Darren anymore.

Vagno frowns. Alex clears his throat. “You won’t win in this state. You don’t stand a chance”, Simone tells Jannik. “He will demolish you, is that what you want?”

“He will think I got scared! That I gave up!” He winces in pain, swaying a bit. 

“Why does it matter what he thinks so much, Jan?”, Darren asks in a soft voice, careful. 

Jannik looks…

…caught.

“It just does”, he says fast, looking away. Darren shares a look with Simone. The Italian raises his eyebrow and Darren bites his lip in thought. He feels like he’s missing something.

Something important.

“Okay”, Vagno relents. “You’ll play. But the moment you feel worse, you quit. Understood?” His tone is firm, but the concern is still present.

Jannik hesitates for a second, possibly considering pulling the rope just a bit more but ultimately deciding against it. Smart. Messing with Vagno is dangerous. “I will take some painkillers”, he promises. He looks sincere. 

Darren would still rather if he didn’t play at all.

It’s obvious that Jannik is unwell. He can barely run, he can’t hit the ball hard enough. He looks like he’s about to fall over.

Darren taps his fingers against his thigh nervously. Simone’s knee keeps bouncing.

Jannik retires after five games, not having won a single one. When he sits down on the bench, Alcaraz approaches him. There is a subtle frown on his face, a hint of worry. Darren can’t tell how genuine. 

He whispers something into Jannik’s ear, his arm encircling his back.

Darren wonders.

Alcaraz beats Jannik again in the US Open final. 

Jannik deems his performance embarrassing. Darren agrees it was less than satisfactory but Alcaraz is no fluke. He’s a born victor. He deserved the title, full stop. Jannik will get him back at the next tournament. It’s tennis.

But Jannik feels humiliated and aims for revenge. It’s obvious in the way he practices and in the way he speaks about the event in Shanghai, where he and Alcaraz will get the chance to play each other next. There is something fierce in his attitude, something bold. Determined. 

Darren just hopes he’s driven by desire to win, not vengeance.

Darren overhears Jannik asking Alejandro about Alcaraz’s ankle injury. 

“Do you think he’ll be okay? To play in Shanghai, I mean.” His cheeks are rosy. In his eyes, there is a sprinkle of fear. Darren doesn’t know what to make of it.

Alejandro gives him a curious look and answers, “I don’t know but it seems like he’s alright to finish the match.” He points to the screen. Alcaraz is back on the court, his ankle taped. A shadow of emotion passes through Jannik’s face before it’s gone.

“Oh. That’s— good. For him”, Jannik says awkwardly.

“Alright, Jan. Back to exercise”, Darren butts in. “What is happening in Tokyo is none of your concern, not right now.”

Jannik nods but his eyes don’t leave the screen for another minute.

Alejandro snickers.

Alcaraz withdraws from Shanghai and Jannik deflates like a popped balloon. 

“This is your chance to gain an advantage. If you still want to end the year as the number one player, of course”, Simone raises an eyebrow, teasing him.

“You know I do.” Jannik glares at the Italian, then goes back to staring at his phone. 

“Then let’s go farm some points.” Darren pats Jannik’s back.

“Yeah, yeah”, Jannik replies without looking at him, already distracted. Darren looks down on the Italian’s phone to find the browser open on a news article covering Carlos’s withdrawal. Jannik’s thumb is hovering over a photo of the Spaniard, hesitant. He doesn’t scroll away for a moment and Darren…

Darren wonders.

Cahill decides to call Juan Carlos Ferrero before Turin. 

“Hello, Darren”, Juan Carlos greets him over the phone, his accent sharp.

“Hi, JC! What’s up? Listen. Simone and I were thinking and we came to the conclusion—”

“Yes. I agree. They should practice together.”

Darren is speechless for a while. “H— How did you know what I was going to say?”, he asks.

He can hear the smile in Ferrero’s voice. “Because it’s a great idea. Of course I’ve thought about it.”

Cahill laughs.

Darren tells Jannik they arranged a practice session with Alcaraz after their arrival in Italy. “What?!” Jannik’s expression is shocked. “But— We haven’t practiced together for years. Why now, when there’s so much on the line?”

This is exactly why. You care too much. It will kill you. 

I can’t let it happen to you.

“Simone and I agreed it’s smart for you to train with him. No one else can keep up with you. And… I think we should keep an eye on him, no?” Even though you already do.

“Ha”, Jannik responds. His lips curl into an unpleasant smirk. Darren doesn’t recognize him. “He’ll be lucky if one of my backhands doesn’t end up hitting him in the liver.”

“Jannik!”, Darren scolds him, disturbed. God, how do I make you stop seeing him as your enemy? “I don’t understand why you dislike him so much. He’s a nice kid, funny and humble.” And the Australian means it. “And extremely talented, which you obviously know.”

“He’s none of these things”, he scoffs, irked. “Well, I admit he’s talented. But he’s arrogant and self-centered. And he enjoys taunting me. The Alcaraz you know is just a persona.”

Oh, kid. This ain’t healthy.

Darren raises his eyebrows. “And the only one who actually knows him is… you?”, he questions, not entirely sure what he’s trying to suggest.

“No— I— It’s just—”, Jannik stumbles over his words. “He’s not who you all think he is. He’s obsessed with winning, he can be mean and cruel, he’s stubborn and proud and he will do anything, absolutely anything, to be the best.”

Darren blinks, surprised by his outburst. Then…

“Sounds awfully familiar to me”, Darren says softly, his gaze fixed on Jannik’s face. Sinner turns his eyes away.

“We are nothing alike.”

But you are. You are.

“Oh, I think you’re more similar than you think.” 

Jannik looks back at him, his eyes wide. For some reason, he looks… scared.

“Are we?”, he asks, something horribly vulnerable in his tone. Before Darren can reply, he shakes his head. “It doesn't matter. He’s my rival. I’m meant to beat him.”

“But you aren’t meant to hate him.”

Jannik swallows. “That's all I’m allowed to do”, he whispers. It doesn’t sound like something Darren was supposed to hear – too vulnerable, too honest.

Jannik walks away before Cahill can ask what he meant. 

Jannik beats Alcaraz in Turin. But he’s not satisfied. He works harder than ever in the offseason, leaving his lungs on the practice courts.

It’s not enough to defeat Alcaraz in Australia.   

When the Spaniard gives his speech, emotional and teary-eyed, Darren notices something raw on Jannik’s face. 

It doesn’t look like disappointment.

Darren ends up chatting with Carlos in California. “Congrats for Melbourne, mate. Great job”, he tells him with a genuine smile.

“Thank you!” Carlos beams at him.

“But, please, let us have the next Slam.” Darren punches him on the chest lightly, joking. Carlos laughs and looks at his feet, sheepish.

“Jannik doesn’t need my help”, he says. “He can beat me without it. But I won’t make it easy.” His eyes are glowing with excitement and Darren realizes he loves playing Jannik just as much as the Italian does playing him.

Darren squeezes his shoulder briefly. “Oh, I know, kid. So does he.” Alcaraz blushes and Cahill smirks, amused. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Jannik glaring at them from a distance. “Good luck in the tournament”, he says and offers Carlos a handshake.

Alcaraz takes his hand firmly and smiles. “Thanks.”

For the rest of the day, Jannik keeps pouting and barely utters a word.

“Are you grumpy because you caught me fraternizing with the enemy?”, Darren asks teasingly, trying to cheer him up. Jannik’s gaze is as sharp as a dagger when he looks up at him, glaring. The Australian puts his hands up in mock-surrender.

“It’s not funny. What were you doing?” He sounds offended. Betrayed. Darren tries not to laugh. “Did you give him tips on how to beat me?” Cahill looks at him pointedly. He knows Jannik doesn’t mean it but the accusation still stings.

He seems to realize he insulted his coach because he apologizes immediately. “I’m sorry”, he says, sounding sincere. “I just don’t get how he wrapped you all around his finger.” Darren sighs under his breath, readying himself for another rant. I’m not getting paid enough for this, he complains inside his head. “He’s a manipulator. He deceives and he lies. Nothing about him is real, it can’t be”, he insists, his voice breaking a little. 

Why can’t it be?

Darren takes a deep breath. He takes a step forward and wraps his arms around Jannik. He doesn’t say anything, just holds him. His hands pet Jannik’s back. After a while, he goes limp. “He just gets under my skin”, he mutters into Darren's neck. 

Darren sighs. “I know, Jan”, he tells him, his tone aiming for sounding compassionate. 

Jannik just breathes for a moment, calming down. He pulls back from the hold and mumbles, “Grazie, Darren.” 

Cahill nods at him with a little smile. “You’re welcome, Jan.”

In Miami, Darren observes Jannik’s peculiar reaction to seeing Alcaraz in practice.

They booked the court right after the Spaniard’s session. He’s still hitting with his brother when they arrive. “We have to wait a bit”, Simone says. Darren nods but Jannik doesn’t seem to be listening.

His eyes are trained on Alcaraz, following his moving figure. The weather is hot, as it tends to be in Florida in March. Alcaraz is shirtless. Darren wishes he could take off his T-shirt too. He doubts anyone would be interested in seeing his bare chest, though.

Although, Jannik does seem weirdly fixated on Carlos’s abs. 

His lips are parted, his chest moving faster than normally. Darren feels a little uncomfortable watching him. Like he’s… intruding.

Suddenly, Jannik turns on his heel and leaves the court, claiming he forgot to use the bathroom.

Darren’s eyes find Vagno’s questioning gaze. He shrugs. “I’m as confused as you are, mate.”

Simone nods. When Jannik comes back, they don’t ask him about it.

Darren Cahill has seen his player disappointed before.

Jannik, over the years, had thousands of reasons to be. Losses, injuries, unlucky draws…

But never before has Darren seen him disappointed because he doesn’t get to play somebody. 

On the court, Jannik is as perfect as he usually is when he plays Taylor Fritz for the title in Miami. He’s precise and ruthless, his movement quick and confident. But there is no passion in his game. 

Darren hates when people call Jannik a robot. After all, he makes mistakes too. And he’s allowed to make them. He’s only human. But looking at him now, Darren doesn’t feel like he’s watching Jannik.

He’s watching Sinner, cold and flawless, playing tennis like he was programmed to do it.

As a coach, he should be glad his player isn’t making any errors. 

Instead, he’s concerned. Jannik should enjoy tennis no matter who he faces. Right now, he looks like he wants the match to be over as soon as possible, not a shadow of joy on his face. 

Darren can’t help but think he misses Alcaraz.

The seemingly ridiculous thought makes more sense than it should. Darren focuses on the match.

In Monte Carlo, Darren meets Sophie Lavigne. 

Jannik has her sit in his box during the final against Alcaraz. She’s charming, funny and nice, and Darren instantly takes a liking to her. Jannik tells his team she’s his friend but Cahill can’t stop himself from prying when they’re alone. “Can I ask you something, Jan?”

“Sure”, he replies, busy tying his shoelaces.

“Is Sophie your girlfriend?”

Jannik’s fingers freeze. “Um… No. No, she’s not”, he answers. Darren thinks he’s telling the truth. “She’s just a friend.”

“Hm.” Darren observes him for a second. He doesn’t seem like he’s lying, despite not looking the Australian in the eyes. “Okay. I’m glad you made a new friend then.”

Jannik snickers. “Come on, Darren. You’re not my dad.”

Darren laughs. “I feel like I am sometimes.”

Jannik looks at him, his eyes serious. “Me too”, he says quietly.

Warmth spreads inside Darren’s chest and he feels himself getting emotional. He clears his throat. “You got this, mate”, he says awkwardly, referring to the match. 

But he doesn’t only mean the match. 

Jannik is distracted during the semi-final against Cobolli in Rome. Darren and Simone both keep sending him questioning looks, trying to find out what caused his discomposed state. Jannik goes from shrugging to gritting his teeth to straight-up yelling at his box after another double fault. 

Even Flavio looks confused when he wins. Jannik retreats to the lockers with his head hung low.

“Alcaraz got a dog and you will never guess what he named it. Garros. He’s taunting me, I swear. He does shit like this on purpose, just to throw me off”, Jannik complains to Alejandro during a gym session in Paris. The physio’s lips quirk into a smirk as he glances at Darren, his eyes screaming, Are you hearing this?

Darren rolls his eyes in amusement. “You’ll get used to this”, he mouths to the Argentine.

“Jannik”, Simone starts. “Have you considered that, maybe, not everything Alcaraz does is aimed at you?”

Jannik looks offended at the suggestion.

An overwhelming sense of pride settles deep inside Darren’s ribcage when Jannik is announced as the winner of the 2026 French Open. After the heartbreak he suffered here last year, Darren couldn’t be happier for him.

There is no one who deserves this success more. No one who works harder.

Cahill looks to his left and sees Jannik’s mum crying, her hand covering her mouth. Vagnozzi is trying to keep himself together but there are tears filling up his eyes. Darren looks back at Jannik, whose head is tilted back, his body overcome with relief, and fights a sob.

Come on, old man. You aren’t actually his father. Get yourself in check.

But it’s hard to remember not to let himself cry, not in public, when Jannik hugs him tightly and a laugh of pure happiness reaches Darren’s ear.

Jannik loses in London, but he wins in America, clinching both the Cincinnati title and the US Open. Darren is very pleased with his game but he knows Alcaraz is still going to be a threat, especially now that he lost twice in a row. It’s bound to rile him up and motivate him to be better.

And they see it in Shanghai. So, Darren makes Jannik sit down with him and watch Alcaraz’s match against Zizou Bergs, won 6-1, 6-3, in a dominant manner.

Darren has a hunch Jannik would’ve watched it anyway. But maybe with Darren next to him he will actually focus on the strategic side of the match.

“He improved his first serve, it doesn’t land in the net nearly as often as it used to”, Darren observes after the first set. 68%, shows the set summary graphic displaying the statistics. 

Jannik nods, agreeing, “Yeah, I’ve seen him working on it yesterday.”

Darren raises an eyebrow, surprised. “You didn’t have practice yesterday”, he points out. 

“I was watching Jack practice”, he blushes. Interesting, Darren thinks. “We had lunch together after.” 

Cahill hums. “And how is Jack? No injuries?”, he asks out of politeness.

“He’s fine, completely healthy physically”, he says quickly. “He’s in a good form. Actually, we should watch his match too”, Jannik suggests. “He’s in my half of the draw, we could face each other in the semi.” 

“Okay, mate, good idea.”

But despite it being Jannik’s suggestion, Darren notices Jannik can’t focus on Draper’s match against Hurkacz. His eyes keep drifting around the room, making it seem like the hotel furniture is more fascinating than his friend playing tennis.

Darren can’t help but note that lack of concentration was not a problem when they were analyzing a certain Spaniard’s game. 

Cahill just isn’t sure if it’s their respective tennis that is the reason.

Sinner loses the final in China but puts it past him fast, already looking forward to playing in France again. He’s excited for the indoor part of the season, like he always is. After all, he’s basically unbeatable under a roof.

But the day of the final, Jannik turns up for breakfast looking like he didn’t sleep a wink last night. His eyes are watery and dull, he’s pale and his T-shirt is inside-out.

“Why didn’t you sleep, man?”, Mark asks, voicing the question on Darren’s tongue, concern lacing his tone. 

“I— I just couldn’t, I don’t know why.” Jannik scratches his nose. Darren frowns. Something is troubling him.

But he decides not to pry, at least not in front of the rest of the team. “You should’ve asked for melatonin”, he says, scolding him half-heartedly. 

Jannik shakes his head violently, suddenly looking more awake. “No. No, no drugs. Don’t you remember what happened to Iga? To me? No.”

Darren does remember. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the months of uncertainty and fear, borderline terror even. Jannik didn’t deserve to go through that. He hopes he never has to deal with doubts regarding his integrity again. But Darren doesn’t believe in karma, not even the good kind. He worries Jannik will never be truly free from the doping case, even though it wasn’t his fault. 

“Alright, Jan, okay”, Simone puts his hands on Jannik’s shoulders, trying to appease him. “We know you’ll give your all regardless, yeah?” Jannik nods. “Good. You’ve faced worse odds than a sleepless night and you’ve come out victorious. You can do it.” Vagno sounds like he believes it.

Darren does too. He believes in Jannik more than he does in God. And Jannik has never let him down.

Darren doesn’t think he ever will. No matter what he does.

The loss in the ATP Finals in Italy hurts, especially after the defeat in Paris. But Cahill doesn’t doubt, not for a single moment, that Jannik gave his all. They can’t ask any more of him. They don’t want to.

“I’m proud of you”, Darren tells Jannik. The Italian’s eyes are stormy. 

“Why?” Jannik chuckles, the sound dark and ugly. “I lost. Again.” He clenches his jaw. “I lost to him. Again.”

“And there is no shame in that. He’s a great player. A multiple Grand Slam winner. He won today? Okay. You’ve beaten him before; you will again. Many times. And I know losing in front of a home crowd is tough. But it’s time to rest now, alright? You deserve a break.” He pats Jannik’s back. “Don’t be too hard on yourself”, he advises gently.

Jannik swallows and turns his gaze away.

In December, it’s Juan Carlos Ferrero’s turn to dial his number. “Merry Christmas, Darren”, he greets. 

“Merry Christmas. How are you doing?”

“Good, good”, he dismisses. “I have a… proposition.”

“I’m listening”, Darren says, curious.

“You and your team should come to Alicante.” Darren stays silent, thinking. “I’m inviting you”, he clarifies, albeit needlessly.

“Oh, sorry. I know. I’m just… considering your proposition.”

JC hums over the line. “I think both Carlos and Jannik would benefit from working together in the preseason”, he argues.

Darren agrees. But it’s not just his decision. “I have to discuss this with Vagnozzi and Jannik. I’ll let you know what we decide. Thank you for the invitation.”

The moment the call disconnects, he rings Simone.

“Do you think we should go?”, Vagno asks when he tells him about Ferrero’s idea.

“...Yeah. I do, mate. What about you? What do you think?”

“It’s a good idea. There is no training center better than the academy in Villena. Besides, keeping an eye on the direct competition would be smart. And, we surely wouldn’t have to worry about Jannik lacking motivation to practice if Carlos is around.”

“Shit”, Darren says, remembering something that could be an issue. “Convincing Jannik will be hard. He can be very stubborn.”

“Let’s not give him a choice then. We can just tell him what we decided.”

“I don’t know”, Darren replies, skeptical. “It doesn’t seem fair.”

“You know as well as I do that he’s not capable of making unbiased decisions when it comes to Alcaraz. His… dislike for him clouds his judgement. Maybe a visit to Spain will help him put this childish behaviour away. He’s an adult, he should act like it.”

“You’re too harsh on him”, Darren defends him quietly.

“And you are too soft. Someone has to be firm with him. He can’t waste his potential.” Gently, he adds, “He wouldn’t forgive himself for it. You know him. You know his ambition.”

“Alright. Yeah.” Darren nods to himself. “Call him when you have a minute. He needs to prepare.”

He’s not talking about packing.

They have dinner with Alcaraz’s team on the day of their arrival in Alicante. Carlos is half an hour late, taking a seat next to Darren when he finally makes it.

They chat for a while, exchanging holiday anecdotes. Jannik keeps glaring at them from across the table. Darren laughs under his breath and Carlos sends him a confused look. He shakes his head. “Nothing, nothing.”

Alcaraz follows his gaze, his eyes settling on Jannik. Their eyes meet and Carlos smirks, something devilish about it. “There is a golf course nearby”, he says almost off-handedly. But Darren recognizes the dare in his words. “What do you say? Up for a challenge?”

Darren knows Jannik would never back down from one. Not against Carlos. 

Jannik’s eyes light up with something explosive. He and Alcaraz stare at each other, a weird tension between them that seems almost tangible. Darren swears he can smell smoke in the air.

Darren often bullies Jannik for being bad at golf. But today—

Today he’s playing like he hasn’t touched a club before. It’s embarrassing for him and Darren both. “Damn, Jannik! Come on, this is not what I taught you!”, Cahill shouts. “I’m going to sue you for moral damage! You’re lucky you’re rich.”

“I’m trying!”

“Well, try harder!”, Simone yells, laughing. Jannik misses again and Darren can’t stop himself from wheezing. 

“You’re doing this wrong. Are you sure you’ve gone golfing before?” Darren snickers at Alcaraz’s remark, making Jannik glare at him. 

“Traitor”, Jannik mouths in his direction. “Yes”, the Italian answers Alcaraz through gritted teeth. 

“Let me help you”, Carlos offers. He doesn’t sound like he’s making fun of Jannik anymore.

Sinner nods without enthusiasm, his body tense. “Fine.”

Alcaraz stands behind Jannik. His hand touches the base of his spine, attempting to guide him. “You need to fix your posture”, he mutters. Darren barely hears him. “It needs to be straighter.” His palm presses into Jannik’s sacrum. His foot nudges Jannik’s. “Your stance should be wider.”

Alcaraz puts his hands on Jannik’s forearms, correcting his grip. His arms circle Jannik’s torso and Darren thinks he can hear the Italian gulp. There is something electrifying between them. Something dangerous.

He doesn’t think he should be seeing this. It’s too… 

Intimate.

He turns his gaze away.

Darren always prided himself in being able to understand Jannik better than anyone else, at least when it came to his tennis.

But when he observes Jannik practicing with Alcaraz over the next couple of days, he has to admit these two share something special on the court. A kind of understanding only two generational players can have.

A connection.

But it doesn’t surprise Darren. He could always feel it, brewing between them. What puzzles him, though, is that Jannik seems to be…

…having fun.

Jannik, who claims to hate Alcaraz, who acts annoyed every time the Spaniard opens his mouth, who rolls his eyes at his jokes. 

He doesn’t look like he hates him now, laughing with him and looking at him with something strangely akin to— fondness.

Darren might be hallucinating, though. It’s definitely more plausible.

On New Year’s Day Darren sees Carlos leaving Jannik’s room at dawn. He figures he must have drunk too much champagne. 

“Congratulations to Jannik and his team”, Alcaraz says in his runner-up speech in Australia, a hand over his heart. “It was an incredible performance on his part. I would have loved to see it if I was a spectator and not the loser”, he laughs. Darren laughs as well. He knows Carlos means it. He’s always been able to appreciate great tennis, even if he was bested. “I will beat you next time.” He looks at Jannik, his eyes blazing. Darren feels himself sweat uncomfortably with the intensity of his gaze. “I won’t ever make it easy for you, I swear it.” It’s like he doesn’t care that there are other people around. He’s only paying attention to Jannik. “There is no one else who makes me feel like this on the court.” 

Jannik’s expression changes into something raw for just a split second, barely a crack in his mask, but Darren sees it. He sees the subtle twitch of his mouth, the surprised quirk of his eyebrow, the harsh swallow of his throat before it all morphs into nothing. 

Maybe he’s imagining things. Maybe he’s finally going crazy. He has a stressful job after all.

Jannik addresses Carlos directly, something urgent in his voice, weaved with some emotion Darren’s never heard in his tone before. “Thank you for this battle. You—”, he stutters, as if self-aware, but continues with the very same intensity, the very same honesty. “You are my inspiration.” And Darren knew it, it was obvious to him for years, but hearing Jannik say it, here in Melbourne, in front of thousands of people… He thinks he might have underestimated the strength of Jannik’s— “What you do on the court… I— I think it’s art.” 

—feelings.

Cahill glances at Carlos quickly. What Jannik said may not have been much different from what he usually says about his opponents but the vulnerability in his voice was clear. (At least to those who know him.) And Darren is sure that Alcaraz heard it too. He doesn’t think Jannik understands what he just gave away. 

But Darren has a feeling Carlos is going to be careful with it. Even though he probably doesn’t truly get what it is yet.

Neither does Darren. All he knows is that it’s important to Jannik. And what is important to Jannik is important to Darren. 

And he will make sure that Carlos can be trusted with it.

Lately, Darren can’t stop noticing.  

In Indian Wells, he sees Jannik observing Carlos during practice. His gaze is intense. He keeps looking in his direction, seemingly unable to take his eyes off the Spaniard, even though he’s supposed to be returning Sonego’s serves. And Darren figures it makes sense – he wants to keep an eye on his competition. Cahill always advised him to do so. But there is something else in his eyes, something heated, flaming, that suggests there is more to it than simple espial.

In Monte Carlo, he spots Jannik smiling at his phone, looking like he was caught doing something he shouldn’t when Darren asks who he’s texting. The Australian catches a glimpse of Alcaraz’s Instagram profile picture before Jannik angles his phone away and he tries to excuse his panic: He’s probably embarrassed. He insisted he hated the guy for years. We gave him so much shit for it. He’s too proud to just admit he was wrong, even if he changed his mind. But he can’t quite convince himself that there isn’t a different reason. 

In Madrid, he notices Jannik acting distracted whenever Alcaraz is close, glancing at him instead of listening to his coaches. He seems irritated. Snappish. Darren realizes that he hasn’t seen the two of them interact since the tournament in Monaco. He can’t help but laugh to himself because… Why on earth is lack of interactions between them considered weird now? When did that happen? 

Jannik doesn’t lose control often. But each time it does happen, Alcaraz is somehow involved.

The crowd in Rome is ruthless when Sinner takes on Alcaraz in the final of the Masters event. They’re loud – clapping, whistling, shouting and even booing. And Darren isn’t surprised. It’s normal for an Italian crowd to be… animated. 

But when the momentum shifts in Alcaraz’s favour, a line is crossed. 

Darren doesn’t speak Italian but he understands some of it. So when the first insults towards Carlos reach his ears, he’s scandalized. Outraged, even! 

But apparently not even half as mad as Jannik.

His protégé turns to one of the stands, his eyes dark and furious. Darren doesn’t recognize him. He yells at the fans, a short command but it’s filled with anger. And a strange note of— protectiveness that Cahill doesn’t quite understand. 

He feels like he shouldn’t try to. He probably couldn’t anyway.

Jannik’s been lighter ever since his trip to the mountains before the French Open. Darren has no idea what caused this change in him but it not only makes his tennis better but he also seems happier.

When he steps onto the court in Paris for the first time this year with a smile on his face, Darren’s chest feels warm.

In hindsight, Darren probably should have expected it. He knew Jannik had a secret. But he never thought—

He really, really should have seen it coming.

In Cincinnati, Jannik asks him to talk, his tone serious. Darren, of course, agrees. But it still doesn’t cross his mind that— 

“So, what is it? You can tell me anything, Jan, I mean it.”

“I know. Darren. Thanks.” Jannik scratches the back of his neck nervously and puts his shaking hands in the pockets of his pants. He takes a couple of steadying breaths, looking a bit sick. “Fuck, I hoped it would be easier.”

“Take your time”, Darren says, gentle but slightly confused.

“I— I’ve only told my mum about it. And Sophie. And, well, Jack knows too”, Jannik rambles. Darren listens. “Actually, I should probably tell Alex about it because it could be important, or even destructive, to my career, but I wanted to tell you first because you’re sort of a father figure to me” Oh, kid. Don’t make me cry. “and, God, I haven’t even told my dad yet—”

“Jannik.” He takes him by the shoulders, attempting to calm him down. “Breathe. You don't have to overexplain yourself.” You never do. Not to me. “Just tell me.”

“Okay. Okay.” He exhales, his breath shaky. He looks like he’s fighting to get the words out, his eyes glassy. “I—” Come on, Jan. You can do it. Darren squeezes his shoulder. “I like men. I’m bisexual”, he rushes out without looking Darren in the eyes. 

Darren takes a sharp breath, his heart stuttering in shock. Oh, damn. Damn. 

He looks at Jannik. His eyes are closed, his face buried in his hands like he’s trying to shield himself from—

—from Darren.

“Open your eyes, Jan”, he pleads softly. “Look at me.”

Jannik finally looks up, his face full of anxiety. Fear. He looks like a kid again, inexperienced and scared. And Darren hates that he doesn’t know if he can trust him. That he doesn’t know he will love him and support him no matter what.

Carefully, he starts, “I wasn’t expecting it, I won’t lie to you.” He sighs. “But, kiddo— You’re like a son to me.” I mean it. I love you. “I care about you. And I’m proud of you” I really am. “because it takes balls to come out as a professional male athlete, even to your coach.” He pauses for a few seconds, thinking. “Maybe especially to your coach. I’m glad you chose to trust me with this.” Jannik’s eyes fill with tears and Darren’s heart breaks for him a little. “Oh, damn, don’t cry.” He wraps his arms around him, hugging him tightly and trying to make him understand how proud he is of him.

Jannik wipes the tears from his cheeks with his thumbs, awkward but calmer. He mutters, “Thank you, Darren.”

The Australian smiles at him encouragingly. “Anytime, kiddo.” But it’s not this easy, is it? He rubs his temples and inhales deeply. “But as your coach, it’s my responsibility to tell you, even though I’m sure you know it already—” He’s trying to sound gentle, hopeful. He doesn’t know if he’s succeeding. “Tennis is not exactly a welcoming place for gay players. Or bi players. You have to be very, very careful if you don’t want your secret to be splashed on the front page of a gossip magazine. You should tell Alex. He needs to come up with a plan in case of an emergency.” After a moment, he adds, “But I won’t pressure you. You will tell him when you’re ready. And I think it will only get easier, each time you tell somebody.” I hope it will. “Don’t be afraid, alright, Jan?” Please, kid. Be brave. I know you can.

Jannik nods, his bottom lip trembling with emotion. “Thanks for your advice, Darren. I— I really appreciate it.”

Making sure you’re happy is my job. And I don’t plan on ever retiring. 

He squeezes Jannik’s hand briefly. “You’re welcome, kid.” 

“But… please, don’t tell Simone. Or anyone. I want to do it myself.”

“Of course, Jan. It’s yours to tell, not mine. No one else’s.” He hesitates for a second. “Is there… somebody?”, he asks, unable to stop himself. Out of concern or curiosity, he cannot say.

Jannik’s answer is fast and firm. “No. No.” Too fast. Too firm.

But Darren decides to let it go.

When Jannik plays Alcaraz in the final, he’s distracted. Unfocused.

Their eyes meet above the net and Darren…

Darren wonders.

Jannik is nervous before the US Open final. He brushes it off when Darren asks him what’s going on but Cahill still worries. 

The match starts well for the Italian. He wins the first set and manages to break early in the second. Barely an hour passes before he has another set point. After a short rally, he sends a powerful forehand across the court, aiming for the corner. Alcaraz dashes in the direction of the ball, a routine defence for him.

But something goes wrong.

He missteps and trips, his knee twisting awfully. He stumbles to the ground with a pained cry as the crowd gasps and grim silence falls over the stadium right afterward.

On the other side of the net, Darren sees Jannik freeze. The coach’s own chest constricts as he watches Carlos writhe on the court, holding his knee to his body, his face crumpled with pain. 

Cahill has to look away.

When he looks at Jannik…

When he looks at Jannik, suddenly everything becomes clear.

The obsession, the denial, the passion. All the shared looks, all the careful touches, all the empty words so full of meaning when one just pays attention—

Darren looks at Jannik and sees a man who aches. A man forced to watch someone he cares about get hurt.

Someone he loves.

Finally, it all makes sense. 

God, I was so blind— 

Of course he loves him. It’s so obvious now. 

Jannik drops his racquet and jumps over the net to get to Carlos. 

Don’t do anything stupid, Jan, Darren begs. He watches Jannik say something to him, trying to comfort him. To no avail. Carlos is still looking around in distress. Jannik crouches next to him, putting his hand on his shoulder. Be careful, kid.

Jannik steps back when Carlos’s team gets to him but he stays near. When the Spaniard is being carried off the court, Jannik follows him. 

“Where is he going?”, Alex asks.

Simone moves.

Darren tries to stop him. “Vagno, wait—”, he says, but the Italian is out of the box already, stalking in the direction of the tunnel. “Fuck.”

“What is going on, Darren?”, Alejandro questions, puzzled. 

“I—” Jannik trusted you. Don’t mess up. “I don’t know. He probably wants to check on Carlos. Simone will handle it.” 

Alex’s leg starts bouncing.

Jannik doesn’t show up at the country club a couple days later. After reading a Marca article, Darren thinks he can guess where he is.

They keep blowing up his phone but it’s only a few hours later that Jannik calls Darren back.

He sighs. “You know, Jannik, I can’t really say I’m surprised”, he starts. 

“What?” A small smile tugs on Darren’s mouth. He thinks he’s clever, huh. I wonder what lie he was going to sell me.

“Simone told me about your… little breakdown in the tunnel. I’m guessing you went to see Carlos?” 

“I—”

“Kid…” Darren sighs. “I get that you’re worried and you’re blaming yourself for some reason but you should’ve told us you were flying to another country.” To see your main rival that you are in love with. 

Damn, I need a spa retreat. 

“You would have stopped me, Darren, come on.” Simone would have. Alex would have. But Darren isn’t sure he would have. “You wouldn’t have let me go visit him and you would have been right. Because it’s extremely stupid” Yes, it is. “and I don’t even know what I’m doing or if he wants to see me at all” Oh, kid. Darren fights a snicker. “but I just— I had to.”

“I know, Jan. I noticed you started to care about him.” I know you love him. But Darren doesn’t think Jannik would admit it. He doesn’t think Jannik even knows. “Honestly, I think you always have.” Careful. “But just because you’re…” Lovers? “friends now, doesn’t mean you can neglect your responsibilities ‘cause you’re worried about him. I’m sorry”, he adds, truly apologetic.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, Darren. But I have to— I have to make sure he—”

“Alright. Listen. I expect you back in practice the day after tomorrow. Understood?”

Simone is going to murder me.

“Yes. Yes, thank you, Darren”, Jannik says, gleeful. Darren smiles tiredly.

“And, Jannik? Be smart”, he pleads. 

Jannik hangs up and Darren shakes his head. God. What a mess.

“He’s insane”, Simone comments after Darren tells him where Jannik has gone. “Irresponsible, dumb boy. What was he thinking?”

“I don’t think he’s insane”, Darren defends him. Irresponsible and dumb? Yes. But not insane.

Simone raises an eyebrow angrily and huffs. “No? Then how else would you explain his behaviour?”

“Well…” Darren chuckles weakly. “I think Jannik is in love.”

They do say that love makes you crazy. Maybe he is insane after all.

“In love?” Simone scrunches his eyebrows, causing wrinkles of confusion to appear on his forehead. “With who? And what does it have to do with Alcaraz?”

Darren laughs a little hysterically.

“Everything, mate. Everything.”

Jannik finally joins them in Beijing. 

“I’m sorry, guys—”, he starts apologizing as Darren and Vagno approach him in the hotel lobby. 

Simone doesn’t want to hear it. “Cut it out, Jan”, he says harshly. Then, his voice softens. “Let’s just focus on winning the tournament.” Jannik nods, looking relieved. “First step: lunch. Very important.”

The Italian walks away but Darren stops Jannik from following him with a hand on his arm. Cautious, he asks, “How is he?”

Jannik’s eyes become clouded. “He’s… alright”, he says, hesitant. “But he’s going to be out for at least three months. He wants to come back for Melbourne.”

“Damn”, Darren mumbles, feeling genuinely sad for Carlos. “I should probably call Juan Carlos. Ask about Carlos’s recovery. Did you see him in Madrid?”

“No, he— Carlos said he was at home, in Villena. He was supposed to visit but something came up. His child was sick, I think. Samuel came to see Carlos, though.”

“Good, good. Was he… surprised to see you there?” Does he know?

Jannik chuckles, dry. “Obviously. But he was nice.”

Darren decides to test the waters. “Supportive?” He wiggles his eyebrows, despite feeling a little awkward, and Jannik frowns. 

“Supportive of what…?”, he questions, sounding confused.

Darren sighs theatrically. Is he really this oblivious or is he just aiming for an Academy Award? “Never mind. Go leave your bags in your suite. We’ll be waiting in the car, by the entrance.”

“Okay. Give me ten minutes”, Jannik requests and moves in the direction of the elevators.

“Hurry up!”, Darren yells to his back.

After winning in the capital of China, Jannik loses in Shanghai, Vienna and Turin.

“You need a holiday”, Darren says to him. “You should take your mind off of these losses.” And Carlos’s injury.

“I know, Darren”, Jannik mutters, looking dejected. 

For a moment, Darren wants to tell him he knows. Maybe it would make him feel better if he could talk to someone about it?

No, he decides. It should be his choice to tell me.

He hugs Jannik before calling a taxi to get him to the airport.

“He’s looking good”, Darren tells Jannik in Melbourne as he watches Carlos practicing with Cobolli. “He’s not stiff or too careful. It’s a positive sign”, he says reassuringly. “All the pain must be gone.”

But you probably knew how he is already. Before we even came to Australia.

Jannik only hums.

Jannik loses a set in the Australian Open final and he laughs.

Darren laughs too. “He looks happy”, he says to Vagno.

“Whatever. He won’t be happy when he loses the match”, he replies grumpily.

“Maybe he will”, he mutters under his breath. I think he got the prize he wanted already.

“Can you come watch Carlos’s match with me?”, Jannik asks him in Monte Carlo. 

Darren’s eyebrows fly up comically. But he’s only pretending to be surprised. “What? You haven’t done it in years.”

“I know. But I want to. Please come with me.”

Darren smirks. “For reconnaissance, right?” Jannik blushes. 

Cahill wonders if Jannik is aware that he knows. 

A couple weeks after Monaco, right before Rome, Jannik knocks on his hotel room door.

“Hello, Jan. How are you doing?”, he asks faux-politely, a teasing smirk dancing on his lips. He knows what Jannik is here for. “Came to tell me something?”

He’s been waiting for this day for months.

“You are such a prat, Darren.” Jannik glares at him but Cahill can tell he’s fighting a smile. “How long have you known?”

Darren’s mood turns serious. “Since New York. At least, that’s when I realized you…”

Jannik sighs. “That I love him?”

“Yes”, Darren confirms. “So… You really do?”

Jannik’s eyes melt impossibly and his face lights up. Softly, he says, “Yeah. I do. I love him.” He sounds sure.

Darren smiles widely. “I’m happy for you, son.”

“Thank you”, Jannik chuckles, giddy. “And… It’s not a problem that we are— together?”

“Not for me, no.” But for some people it would be. “But you have to tell Alex”, he tells him firmly. 

“Yeah, I know. I will. I just wanted to tell you first. But…” He laughs. “It turns out you knew already.”

Darren chuckles. “You weren’t very subtle. Neither of you. Did you think I wouldn’t notice you sneaking out to see him any chance you got since Barcelona? Was that when you started dating?”

Jannik shakes his head, his face pink. “No. A little earlier. After— After the final in Monte Carlo.”

“Ah.” Darren puts his hand on Jannik’s nape. “I’m proud of you, Jan. For— For everything, really. But most of all for being brave. For fighting for him.” He’s getting a bit teary-eyed. “I’m glad you found love, kid. Both of you deserve it so much.” He adds, “I will talk to Carlos too but I don’t expect that I will have to give him the shovel talk.” He laughs around the lump in his throat.

“No, you won’t”, Jannik murmurs, smiling softly. “He—” Jannik laughs, embarrassed. “He cares about me so much. I can’t believe I used to hate him.”

“I told you”, Darren says, smug. 

Jannik snickers and continues, more serious, “He would never hurt me, not on purpose. I know it now. He loves me too much.” He adds, quieter, “Sometimes— Sometimes I don’t think I deserve it.”

Darren’s voice is gentle but sure when he responds, “You do, Jan. You do.”

You deserve everything you want.

“Darren?”

“Hm?”

“I love you.” His eyes are full of gratitude. “Thank you.”

He pulls Jannik into a hug and mumbles, “I love you too, Jan.”