They stand in front of the cheering crowd, looking out at the screaming fans of all genders, all ages, and all races. He looks over to his teammates, all of whom have stupidly huge smiles on their faces as they triumphantly hold their prize.

He feels himself smiling as they hug him, their coach and their staff all piling on top of him in a congratulatory celebration.

This is what victory feels like.

As if something is tugging him, his gaze is suddenly drawn towards the crowd, looking for that one person in particular. He scans the faces, but none of them look familiar. He hopes that he can find her within all the people.

Then, when his eyes land on her, he smiles. She’s holding up a giant sign with his name on it, and the words I love you. It’s written in her cute handwriting, the same writing that she traces on his palms on nights when they can’t sleep.

He’s dying to hear her voice. He wants to run off the giant stage, away from the cameras and the cheering crowd. He wants to run towards her and hold her. He wants to tell her that he won, even though she’s been sitting and watching the matches.

But instead, he holds up the trophy a bit higher, like he’s showing it off to just her.

And she smiles widely, that same loving, gentle smile that he’s memorized. His smile grows as hers does and as she holds up the sign just a little bit higher. He nods to her, and she nods back. It’s a moment shared between just the tw