State of Emergency: Guillaume's tennis weekend

Weekend of the NCAO Doubles Championship
Saturday, 7 Nov.

Morning routine

Guillaume wakes early, and makes herself a cup of espresso. The room feels too quiet without MC, who'd taken to stopping by for a morning coffee/tea/juice before practice.

Today, however, there's no thump of footsteps, no soft, sleepy grin, no brainless conversation.
Guillaume hadn't noticed how much he'd begun to enjoy this particular way to start the day until now.

Ridiculous, Guillaume sniffs, draining the rest of the tiny cup.

He heads to the library to complete a political theory essay, determined to get on with his weekend. Things can't just grind to a halt because one particular freshman's not around.

He makes it about two sentences in before his phone beeps.

New Message (1)

Guillaume's heart jumps, and he taps to read it before he can stop himself.

MC: "Got through to the quarter-finals. Here's the tournament draw, if you're interested. Talk to ya later, maybe?"

The attached selfie shows MC biting into a giant meat sandwich, teammates laughing in the background—pure American Jock energy.

Something twists in Guillaume's chest. Not jealousy exactly, but…he does find herself wondering what would it be like to inhabit that world. Traveling, training, competing together, laughing and joking around between matches. He frowns, and tamps it down with a small flicker of surprise.

Utterly ridiculous. It's certainly not the kind of life he'd ever wanted to have.

That doesn't stop him from clicking on the link that MC had sent, though.

Down the rabbit hole

The Official NCAO tournament website swallows Guillaume whole, and spits him out a completely changed person.

Player profiles, match histories, 'Favorites to win' the Doubles Championships, special features, YouTube video links—Guillaume devours it all.

MC and his/her/their {national_doubles_partner} are featured in the 'Favorites to win' section of the men's/women's/mixed doubles category, which makes him grin, surprised. He'd watched MC move and hit, of course, but he'd never truly realized how good his hall mate is in the context of the college tennis circuit.

Guillaume discovers several videos of MC playing tennis on YouTube, and even finds a grainy middle school doubles match where Sam and MC completely decimate their opponents. Somehow, that video has 870 views—which makes Guillaume wonder who else is watching a bunch of teens play tennis.

Three hours later, Guillaume now knows more about MC's win-loss record than the essay she's supposed to be researching. He's even figured out the bafflingly un-mathematical concept of tennis scoring. The only thing that kind of makes sense is that love is "zero", as if someone as anti-romance as Guillaume had come up with it.

"Merde," he mutters, slamming her laptop shut with more force than strictly necessary. The other students look up, but Guillaume doesn't notice. He's still replaying the videos in her mind, thinking about how MC transforms into a different person on the tennis court. It's undoubtedly a turn-on, but it also makes Guillaume curious about all the other sides to the freshman that he hasn't yet discovered.

Usually, Guillaume prefers keeping people at arm's length—wants only to know bits and pieces of a person at a time, so that there's still a sense of mystery before things go stale.

But with MC, that hasn't happened yet—and Guillaume wants more. Wants to get closer, wants to peel back every layer until he can get to the very core of him/her/them.

That, he thinks, feels like trouble.

Code Red

Over lunch, Guillaume dissects the situation.

He had never before been afflicted by the wide-eyed, head-over-heels, throw-caution-to-the wind type of romance. He remains deeply suspicious of grand gestures and promises of forever, and that hasn't changed. He has always prefers clean boundaries. Lines drawn between mind and body, between the concrete now versus the nebulous future, enjoyment versus commitment. And... he'd never had trouble maintaining those boundaries before.

But with MC, those lines had begun to blur.

Speaking of the devil, Guillaume phone begins to ring. MC's face lights up the screen.

Guillaume wants to say 'I miss you,' but instead, what comes out of his mouth is, "I figured out how to read tournament draws."

Maybe it means the same thing.

...

The call is everything Guillaume's been longing for all day.

MC describes the tournament atmosphere, the match he/she/they'd just played, and how good the 'Philly cheese-steak' had been. Even through the phone, Guillaume can picture MC's smile. He finds herself asking questions they wouldn't have known to ask, thanks to his newfound tennis knowledge. The pleasant surprise in MC's voice makes his heart flutter. Suddenly, spending the whole morning on 'research' feels like it'd been worth it all along.

"Look what you're doing to me," Guillaume had joked at the very end of the call. The words land closer to the truth than he'd intended.

After hanging up, Guillaume actually makes progress on her essay.

That is…until he finds out that the tournament site has just refreshed with the latest quarter-final results.

"Merde," Guillaume mutters, for the second time that day. He settles back against his chair. "There goes my productivity."

If MC won

Cargill pair advances to semi-finals with spectacular win

Guillaume swells with pride. He continues reading eagerly, grinning in spite of himself.

If MC lost

State University of Southern California advances to semi-finals with spectacular win
Guillaume stomach drops. MC must be gutted. He bites her lip and continues reading, making a mental note to text him/her/them right after this.

The interview coverage features a whole section of quotes from the players, and Guillaume reads MC's effusive praise for:

• Sam

• MC's doubles partner

with a slight twinge of… well—he's still adamant that it's not… jealousy.

If praise Sam

Still, he can't help but what it would be like to have grown up with MC, or what it would be like to awe MC with her artistry on the court.

Well. That's something he'll never know. Not unless he picks up tennis and gets very good in the next couple of months. Impossible, but an intriguing idea nonetheless.

If praise doubles partner

Still, he wonders what it would be like to face down opponents with MC—what it would be like for MC to talk about her with that warm trust and awe.

Well. That's something he'll never know. Not unless he picks up tennis and gets very good in the next couple of months. Impossible, but an intriguing idea nonetheless.

...

If Sam romanced

Another paragraph catches Guillaume's eye.

"The partnership between the protagonist and Sam has been one of the most compelling storylines of this tournament. Their on-court chemistry is undeniable, and off the court, their friendship clearly runs deep…"

• "Sam means the world to me" or "One day, we're gonna be on a front cover together, next to the words: 'Tennis power couple.'"

• Other response

"Means the world to me/ Tennis power couple"

MC's response makes Guillaume's throat constrict. What exactly did they mean by that? It certainly sounds like an admission that they are dating. Guillaume frowns, and re-reads the quote, wondering if he had misinterpreted it. Something lost in translation, perhaps? But even after reading it a third time, it still stings.

Guillaume frowns, and takes a slow breath.

If open relationship:

He knows Sam and MC are in an open relationship. He has no issue with that. But sometimes, he wonders if MC would've preferred being in a committed one with Sam if they'd both gone to the same college. Was MC only with her because Sam's not here?

Technically, MC's feelings for Sam shouldn't affect how he feels about them. That's supposed to be the point of an open relationship. But why then does his chest feel so tight?

Other response

MC's response neither confirms nor denies anything. But what Guillaume does wonder is what the reporter had seen, to ask that question point-blank like that. Had it just been because they'd been doubles partners in high school?

Guillaume frowns, and takes a slow breath.

He decides there and then that she needs to acknowledge this for what it is: a state of emergency.

'Casual' does not involve spending the morning obsessively learning about a topic that she'd previously had no interest in.

It certainly should not result in one's heart jumping into one's throat whenever a particular someone calls.

Before Guillaume can talk herself out of it, he knocks on Jordan's door.

The Diagnosis

Thankfully, Jordan's the only one in the room—Shan's apparently out playing 'quidditch'.
They're sprawled across their single bed, printed essays scattered around them like academic confetti (and looking more like room decoration than actual materials that Jordan's been reading).

Instead of his usual dry smirk, Guillaume looks almost embarrassed. "Can we uh… can we chat for a bit?"

Jordan waves a hand for him to come in, not at all surprised. "I kinda knew this was coming," they say, gathering up their readings to make space for Guillaume on the bed.

The French exchange student raises an eyebrow. "You did?"

Jordan nods, completely unfazed by Guillaume's uncharacteristic vulnerability. "It's the first time MC's been gone over the weekend," they say knowingly. "Figured you might or might not be having an existential crisis."

Guillaume lets slip a surprised laugh. "Jordan, I came to talk to you because I wouldn't have to tell an extra person about uh, what you saw in the student lounge that day, between me and MC." The two exchange a wry look. "But now I'm starting to wonder if you're some omniscient being in disguise."

Jordan laughs. "Just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. And please just sit down, you're making me antsy too."

Guillaume sits down gingerly at the foot of the bed.

"So… what's wrong?" Jordan asks.

Guillaume sighs, and stares up at the ceiling, as if it might offer some insight into his predicament, before looking back down at Jordan again. "I uh, I spent the past day watching tennis videos on YouTube and trawling through tennis websites."
Jordan snorts. "Oh no."

"Exactly." Guillaume groans. "I know two meanings of 'bagel' now, and before this semester, I didn't even know that word existed." The French exchange student squeezes both eyes shut and blows out a breath. "It's bad, isn't it?"

Jordan smiles, and reaches out to pat him on the shoulder. "I was going to say congratulations, actually." They bite down an even bigger grin from spreading across their face. "You've caught feelings."

Guillaume looks distraught. "I thought I was immune."

Jordan smirks. "You're in a new country. We have different viruses here."

This makes both of them snort.

...

After a while, Jordan sobers up. The freshman tilts a chin at Guillaume curiously. "Why're you so against emotional entanglements, anyway?"

There's a long pause, as Guillaume mulls over his answer. "The more attached you are to something or someone, the harder it becomes to live without them. But you can't control that, really. So… I've just figured the least painful way of dealing with that is to not get attached."

Jordan arches an eyebrow. "Huh. How's that been going?"

"Alright, I guess," Guillaume says. "Until now."

Jordan shrugs thoughtfully. "What happens if you're already attached, though? Do you just sever those ties?"

Guillaume bites his lip, and stares out the window. He'd spent countless afternoons looking out of the window of his own room, observing American college life with bemused interest, like a wildlife photographer watching animals in their natural habitat. Now, suddenly, he can no longer deny he's just another part of this ecosystem.

"I don't know," he says finally.

Jordan's expression softens slightly.

The late afternoon sun is beginning to slant into the room, casting long shadows across the hard-wood floor.

Eventually, Jordan says, "It's November, so you've got, what, a little less than 7 months left? That's either enough time to see where this goes, or short enough that it doesn't have to be forever if you don't want it to be."

Guillaume considers this. Seven months. In the context of one's entire life, it's nothing. But in the context of how quickly he'd begun developing this… 'attachment'—seven months felt both impossibly short and terrifyingly long.

"I guess I should just worry about this... if, or when, it's about to break my heart," he decides eventually.

Jordan nods. "Exactly."

Guillaume shoots the freshman a wry look. "You know, you've been so helpful that I'm probably going to keep bugging you about this."

Jordan gives his a small shoulder squeeze, then flashes the older student a sly grin. "So long as you don't make me see anything else I'm not supposed to see..."

Guillaume laughs, lips curling upward into a far more typical grin as he reaches out to punch the freshman in the shoulder. The tension breaks.

...

"For what it's worth," Jordan drawls. "You're a cute couple. Of everyone on this floor, I think you and MC make the most sense."

Guillaume raises an eyebrow. "Not Addie and D?"

Jordan squawks, and begins wheezing.

Soon, the two of them are tossing out ridiculous pairings for the rest of Haynes Hall. "So... does that mean I can tell the rest about you two now?" Jordan asks. "D keeps prodding me about it."

The French exchange student chuckles, feeling a weight lift off his chest. "I don't care." He shrugs. "You'll have to ask MC."

At some point, he's going to have to worry about what happens when his time at Cargill's up. But he'll cross that bridge when he gets there.

For now… he's convinced this isn't an emergency after all.

Not yet, anyway.