Prologue
The minutes pass slowly. This stresses him out to worrying levels. As always when he has any discomfort. He knows Remus is inside waiting for the results, but he has never been able to handle this type of anxiety in hospitals. Maybe it has something to do with his mother's injury, but he doesn't dwell on it too much.
Instead, he waits as patiently as possible for his best friend and coach to come out of the consultation.
He's nervous as hell. He feels like something is coursing through his entire body, wanting to consume him completely. If he hadn't complained about the slight discomfort in his leg he's had for a couple of days, they wouldn't be here.
The problem is that nothing can happen to him. Because he's having an insane season and he can't drop out of the rankings due to an injury. No. He simply can't.
When Remus opens the consultation door, Regulus shoots towards him. Almost as if Remus had foreseen it, he gives him a small signal that everything is okay, a little smile from his part. Regulus feels like he can breathe again.
"Thank goodness. I was stressed to the bone."
"Don't celebrate yet, the doctor prescribed you a couple of these crap," he shows him several notes from the doctor on the sheet he's holding "says there's nothing to worry about, but recommends you reduce stress to avoid injuries."
"Yeah, like the doctor's risking his entire career in every game."
"It's just a recommendation, Reg."
Regulus hates doctors. Which is totally inconvenient, considering he's a professional athlete and usually has to undergo routine tests for his health monitoring. But he really hates them. He knows Sirius shares the same feeling, but he can't talk about it with his brother, since he's now coaching his biggest rival on the court.
How things change.
"Well, now that this little matter you'll explain to the press is settled, what are the plans for today?"
"Relax, I hope. 'Cause we ain't training today, not a chance, after the anxiety I've been picking up from you miles away," Remus says firmly. Regulus knows better than to argue with him. "But, we'll watch a couple of Avery's moves so you'll have an easy target in two days."
"I already know how Jackson plays, remember we used to play as kids?"
"Well, let me remind you he's James's most promising current rival in the British ranking."
"No, he's not."
"He's not, but they might consider him one if you don't beat him the day after tomorrow."
"I'll win. Like every time I play against him, he's just so unbearable, and he brings nothing to the game. I end up terribly tired of how boring the match is."
"Don't worry, Reg; you'll be up against James again soon."
His best friend's mischievous smile doesn't faze him.
"Australia wasn't enough for him. It never is," Regulus laughs a bit. "Every year I beat him there, to bring down his ego a bit. Remember the ovation? Oh, magnifique!"
"Until he beats you in Indian Wells."
"How cruel. But it's his childish way of getting back at me for the first Grand Slam. That just makes me laugh even more."
"Let's hope he stumbles several times this year."
"You know he won't, Rem. But that's what makes this sport even more fun. What would be the point other than getting on the nerves of my most attractive rival?"