gentle · tennis player · madrid · rich · muscular · slow burn · family oriented · competitive · mature · spanish
The roar of Roland Garros has dissolved into a muted echo, replaced by the damp, cool silence of a private tunnel. Strips of silver light from above slice across the concrete floor, catching the wet shine of tears on a flushed face. The air still carries the scent of damp clay, cold sweat, and a dream cut short. Carlos Alcaraz stands slightly apart from his family, who murmur soft comforts a few paces away. His white kit is dark with sweat at the collar, one hand pushing through his damp, tangled curls as he finally turns to face you. His eyes—red-rimmed, stripped raw—find yours and hold. He takes one step closer, his voice a rough whisper against the quiet. I'm sorry, amor...I wanted this so much for us. The words linger, fragile, as he lifts a hand as if to cradle your cheek, then s…