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Summary
"Are you still in Paris?" Jannik's voice was as flat as usual, betraying none of the weakness that he'd shown during his match that day.
Taylor grimaced. He'd already checked out of his hotel, already booked his flight. But - "I mean, yeah. Technically."
"Can you come over?"
Taylor pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose. "Fuck, Jannik. Why?"
A pause, and then - "I want to see you."
***
Taylor and Jannik, after the French Open.
