Willy stood in the center of the suite, his chest heaving with a volatile mix of raw anger and deep, aching betrayal. Never been in a relationship before? That's what Tim had sworn to him just an hour ago. If that were the absolute truth, then who on earth was sending him late-night messages packed with affectionate pet names? It certainly wasn't his mother; their relationship was completely fractured. And Tim didn't have a sister. Who else could she possibly be? Willy's mind spun with increasingly dark, painful theories.
Tim watched him from the edge of the mattress, a slow, deeply amused smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. "Willy... are you honestly jealous right now?"
"No," Willy snapped, his voice tight and defensive as he crossed his arms aggressively. "Why on earth should I be jealous? Do whatever you want."
"Because I am officially your boyfriend," Tim purred, his eyes dancing with dark mischief. "And look at how some mysterious queen is blowing up my private notifications."
Willy couldn't bear to hear another single teasing syllable. The humiliation and jealousy were suffocating. He spun on his heel, preparing to storm out of the bedroom, but Tim's reflexes were flawlessly sharp. In a split second, Tim lunged across the sheets, catching Willy tightly by the wrist and pulling him back down onto the mattress.
"Where do you think you're running off to? Hold on, look at me," Tim laughed softly. Without letting go of Willy's waist, he grabbed his phone with his free hand and dialed the contact entry. Before Willy could pull away, Tim hit the speakerphone icon, placing the device directly on the space between them.
The line rang twice before a soft, crackling click echoed through the quiet room.
Queen:Oh, my sunshine! I absolutely didn't expect you to call me back so incredibly soon.
It was undeniably a woman's voice but it carried a distinct, raspy, and deeply affectionate weight that instantly caught Willy off guard. Tim shot Willy a burning, triumphant look, deeply curious to see how his captain's micro-expressions would shift. Willy stiffened, desperately forcing his face into a mask of complete, icy indifference.
"I missed you, my Queen," Tim spoke into the receiver, his tone shifting into something incredibly warm, sweet, and naturally respectful. "I'm actually flying in to visit your estate one of these days. And don't worry, I'm bringing a highly important guest along with me this time. He's dying to finally meet you."
The elderly woman's voice softened instantly, a pure, radiant wave of happiness vibrating through the speaker line.
Queen:Oh, Tim, you truly make your old grandmother so incredibly happy. You know I am always overjoyed whenever you find time to visit the countryside. Just make sure to text me a few days in advance so I can prepare the guest rooms and cook a proper feast for you both.
"Alright, but please don't overdo it with the kitchen preparation this time," Tim chuckled softly, leaning back against the pillows. "And don't you dare start claiming that I look entirely too skinny and need to gain weight the second I step through the door."
The woman burst into a melodious, ringing laugh, a comforting, familiar sound that made it glaringly obvious she had repeated those exact words to him a thousand times throughout his life.
Queen:I absolutely cannot promise you that, my boy! If you show up looking thin and exhausted, the neighbors won't realize that you're my absolute favorite grandson. They'll start gossiping that your old grandmother doesn't take proper care of him.
Willy's head snapped toward Tim, his eyes wide with utter shock and sudden, burning embarrassment. Grandmother. Tim was smiling radiantly, a soft, genuine warmth completely overtaking his regular arrogant expression.
"Okay, Grandma, I have to let you go tonight," Tim said softly. "I have an incredibly important international shooting competition first thing in the morning, so I need to clear my head and go to sleep early."
Queen:Of course, my dear. Sleep deeply, and don't you dare forget your promise. Be absolutely certain to come see us after the bracket ends. We will be absolutely thrilled to welcome your special guest into our home.
"We'll definitely be there. Good night, Grandma."
The moment the call disconnected, Tim tossed the phone aside and rolled over to face Willy. Willy stared down at his own lap, his cheeks burning a furious shade of crimson. He knew for a fact they were going to be trapped in a long, agonizing conversation now, mostly because Tim would never let him live this down.
Tim stared at him for a quiet beat before he absolutely lost his composure. He burst into a loud, uncontrollable fit of laughter, burying his face in his hands as his shoulders shook violently.
"I honestly cannot believe it..." Tim gasped for air, his eyes sparkling with pure, unadulterated ecstasy. "Oh my god, that was the most spectacular thing I have ever witnessed in my entire life."
Willy remained entirely silent, clenching his jaw because he knew that opening his mouth right now would only fuel the boy's teasing.
"Willy, if you still don't believe me, I will literally drag you to her estate tomorrow afternoon," Tim gloated, poking his flushed cheek. "The second you see her pinch my face, you'll be entirely convinced that she is my biological grandmother and that I would never dream of lying to you."
Willy turned his face toward the window, his arms locked tight against his chest.
"No, seriously, I am going to replay this moment in my head forever," Tim continued to laugh.
Finally, unable to bear the teasing any longer, Willy managed to force the burning question out. "If she's your grandmother... why on earth did you save her contact name under 'Queen' with a heart emoji, Tim?"
Tim's laughter slowly dissolved, a soft, incredibly nostalgic expression overtaking his features. He leaned back, staring quietly at the ceiling. "Because... My grandfather has called her that every single day since they were teenagers. He always says that she is the only true queen of his universe. And my grandmother always tells me that Grandpa treats her like royalty. Growing up, I used to watch them sit in the garden together... I always wanted to find love like that. I wanted to love someone with that exact same intensity, though I never imagined I'd actually find someone who would completely consume my entire heart like you have."
Tim turned his head, his gaze softening as he looked at Willy. "I called her my Queen when I was just a little kid, and the habit stuck. That's the only reason she's saved like that in my database."
Willy's heart did a strange, painful flip at the raw confession. He cleared his throat, looking away. "You... you should have just explained that to me right away instead of making a scene."
"I know," Tim grinned wickedly, sliding his strong arms around Willy's waist and pulling his back flush against his chest. "But you were just so insanely cute when you were throwing a possessive tantrum."
Willy scoffed, still harboring a residual wave of embarrassment, and kept his face turned away. Tim sighed softly, burying his face directly into the crook of Willy's neck, his voice dropping into a sincere whisper. "I'm sorry, Captain. I promise I won't play with your feelings like that ever again."
Willy still didn't look at him, but his rigid posture began to soften under the warmth of the embrace.
"I know I'm entirely guilty of a crime here," Tim murmured, his lips brushing against Willy's shoulder. "I am fully prepared to atone for my sins tonight." He rested his chin on Willy's shoulder, his eyes wide and dark. "I love you so much, Willy. You are genuinely magnificent when you're being protective over me, but you need to remember I only want to be with you. There isn't a single soul on this earth you ever need to be jealous of."
Willy let out a quiet breath, his voice barely audible. "I know... but it doesn't matter where we go, Tim. Everyone who looks at you instantly falls for you."
Tim let out a delighted chuckle, squeezing him tight. "I had absolutely no idea you were this intensely jealous and possessive over me, Captain. If you want to permanently lock me down so that I belong entirely to you, you already know the solution. But don't drain your energy thinking that tonight tomorrow is the most critical day of your career."
Tim was entirely right. The sheer wave of emotional drama had caused Willy to completely forget about the high-stakes international arena waiting for him in the morning. They quietly settled back down beneath the heavy duvet, the lights auto-dimming into pitch black. Tim leaned over, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss against his forehead.
"Sweet dreams, Captain. I love you."
"Good night," Willy whispered back, his fingers tightly interlocking with Tim's beneath the sheets. "I love you too."
The next morning, the bright rays of dawn had barely broken through the sheer curtains when Tim quietly slipped out from beneath the duvet. He carefully ordered a premium room-service breakfast suite for Willy, moving around the room with silent, calculated grace. He pulled his clothes out of the leather suitcase, making sure not to click the zippers or rustle the fabrics, entirely intent on letting his captain secure every single minute of restorative sleep.
Tim slipped into the master bathroom to shower and change into a sharp, tailored athletic ensemble. When he stepped back out into the bedroom, Willy was still sleeping peacefully, the soft lines of his face entirely relaxed against the pillows. A soft knock at the door indicated the arrival of their meal. Tim opened the door with absolute care, rolling the hot breakfast tray inside. Everything was prepped and perfectly laid out. All that was left was to wake the sleeping beauty.
Tim tiptoed over to the edge of the mattress, leaning down to press a soft, warm kiss directly onto Willy's cheek.
"Good morning, Captain," Tim whispered close to his ear. "I honestly didn't want to break your peace, but if we don't move right now, we are going to be severely late for the tournament registration."
Willy groaned softly, his long eyelashes fluttering open as he blinked against the morning light. "Good morning..."
"Breakfast is fully prepped," Tim smiled, gesturing to the steaming silver covers on the tray. "I ordered a fresh batch of chocolate-chip pancakes and a hot black coffee."
Willy's eyes focused instantly. "Thank you. Give me five minutes, I'll get ready right now."
Willy threw off the covers, grabbing his athletic gear, and bolted into the bathroom to take a rapid, freezing shower to shock his system awake. When he emerged, his hair damp and his uniform perfectly adjusted, he sat down next to Tim at the breakfast table, the lethargy completely wiped from his frame.
He took a bite of the fluffy pastry, staring across at the boy. "Wait... how on earth did you know that I love chocolate-chip pancakes specifically? I don't remember ever mentioning that to you."
Tim took a slow sip of his own espresso, an amused look on his face. "Willy, I know pretty much every single detail regarding your personal data log. Have you completely forgotten that you are literally the most popular, high-profile student athlete on the entire university campus?"
Willy paused, his fork hovering mid-air. "Wait... does the entire student body casually know about my specific breakfast preferences?"
"Pretty much," Tim gloated. "They learn absolutely everything there is to know from Alex's gossip circles."
Willy's jaw tightened. "What? Are you seriously telling me Alex is leaking my personal data?"
"Yeah," Tim chuckled. "And Logan was the one who personally handed me a digital copy of your academic and training schedule before the term started. I'm entirely certain the rest of the club members secured their intel straight from his source logs too."
Willy pinched his temples, let out a long, heavy groan. "I honestly cannot comprehend how I managed to curse myself with such incredibly stupid friends. The second we get back across the border, I am having a severe, high-level talk with every single one of them."
After finalizing their gear checks and securing their specialized rifle cases, they departed the hotel and headed straight into the massive, echoing grand hall of the international tournament arena. The sheer scale of the venue was paralyzing. Thousands of spectators filled the towering spectator tiers, and elite participants from ten completely different global powerhouses were already occupying the warm-up platforms.
Willy felt a sudden, freezing wave of intense anxiety crash through his chest. His fingers began to grow cold against his rifle case. Sensing the sudden drop in his partner's aura, Tim immediately reached down, his large, warm hand firmly gripping Willy's trembling fingers.
"Completely block out the noise, Willy. Only think about me," Tim commanded, his voice incredibly grounded and steady. "I am right here by your side, and I believe in you with everything I have. You are the absolute best marksman in this building. I am entirely certain you can easily dismantle their scores."
Willy swallowed hard, the pressure suffocating. "Tim... I have never stood on a firing line for a tournament of this magnitude in my entire life. Look at the rank boards. I'm terrified that I'll lose my focus and entirely ruin everything the university worked for."
Without a shred of hesitation regarding the crowded hallway, Tim stepped directly into his space, pulling Willy into a tight, fierce embrace. He held him flat against his chest, creating a protective barrier against the chaotic energy of the arena.
"I understand you completely, Willy. I know your anxiety is skyrocketing right now, and it is entirely normal to feel this way before an international match," Tim whispered into his hair, his voice fierce and unyielding. "But hear me clearly you are not going to ruin anything. The second you step into your stance and anchor that rifle against your shoulder, your muscle memory will take over, and you'll realize you were paralyzing yourself for absolutely no reason. Trust your training. Trust me."
The absolute certainty in Tim's voice acted like an anchor, dragging Willy back from the ledge of panic. A profound wave of relief washed over him. He was incredibly grateful to have this boy standing in his corner.
The master overhead bells chimed, signaling the commencement of the official bracket. The international participants began migrating to their designated electronic targets. Willy was assigned to the very end of the line a position that filled him with immense satisfaction because it placed him mere feet away from the coach and alternate benches where Tim was stationed.
The master presenter's voice boomed through the loudspeaker arrays, translating the strict rules for the massive audience. The format was brutal: participants were required to execute a total of eleven shots. The first two sequences were designated as non-scoring practice trials, after which the elimination protocol would initiate, systematically dropping the lowest-scoring marksman round by round until only the victor remained.
The tension in the arena was thick enough to cut with a knife. The scoring margin between the top international seeds was dangerously narrow, a fraction of a millimeter separating the targets. By the final round, Willy was locked in a dead-tie for the gold medal. The entire weight of the championship rested entirely upon his final trigger pull.
Willy took a slow, measured breath, entirely blocking out the roaring stadium crowd. He looked at the black bullseye, aligned his sight, and squeezed. The shot cracked through the hall.
The moment the electronic display updated, Willy instantly closed his eyes, his heart hammering in his throat, completely terrified to look up at the master board.
Before he could even process the silence of the stadium, a pair of strong arms violently tackled him from behind, spinning him around into a fierce, suffocating embrace. It was Tim. He was beaming, his eyes wild with absolute pride as the stadium scoreboard erupted into flashing gold lights, displaying Willy's name at the very top of the international roster.
"I knew it!" Tim shouted over the roaring crowd, squeezing him so hard Willy's ribs cracked. "I knew for an absolute fact you would take the gold, Captain! Because I believe in you more than anyone else on this planet!"
Willy blinked, staring past Tim's shoulder at the flashing numbers. "I... I honestly cannot believe it. I actually did it."
A profound wave of pure, ecstatic happiness overtook them. Within seconds, the surrounding international competitors began migrating toward Willy's platform to offer their respect.
Participant 1:Phenomenal shooting, man. I honestly didn't think anyone in this bracket had the speed to out-score my final sequence. Congratulations.
Participant 3:Seriously impressive work out there. You completely caught the entire European seed by surprise.
The sequence of congratulations was endless. As Willy was thanking a coach, one of the elite competitors from the top-eight bracket a tall, intensely sharp-eyed marksman slowly approached their platform, his eyes locked entirely onto Tim.
Participant 8:Hey... hold on a second. Have you and I crossed paths somewhere before? Your face looks incredibly familiar. I swear I know you from somewhere in the professional circuit.
Tim didn't even blink. His expression instantly dropped into a cold, indifferent mask, his tone completely flat. "I get told that quite often. People constantly mistake my face for a famous international shooter and professional motorcycle racer."
The competitor's eyes widened in sudden realization.
Participant 8:That's it! The prodigy racer from the border leagues. You look exactly like him. Man, if you actually possessed a fraction of his legendary shooting skills, you should have been the one competing on the line today instead of sitting on the alternate bench.
Tim let out a sharp, venomous smirk, his eyes turning cold as ice as he looked the competitor up and down. "And if you had managed to shoot with a fraction of his precision today, buddy, your name wouldn't be sitting at the dead bottom of the last-place bracket right now."
The competitor went entirely pale, his jaw tightening in utter humiliation. Tim didn't even wait for a response; he casually turned his back on him and walked straight back to Willy's side, his demeanor shifting back into effortless calm.
Shortly after, the official awards ceremony commenced. Willy stood at the very top of the podium, the gold medal heavy around his neck. Down in the press pit, Tim was frantically snapping dozens of high-definition photos, his fingers flying across his screen as he immediately dumped the images straight into the university club group chat, causing Miles, Al, and Seb to completely blow up his notifications with chaotic celebration texts.
By the time the media protocols wrapped up and they finally managed to cross back into the sanctuary of their hotel suite, both of them were thoroughly exhausted. Willy's phone was vibrating non-stop with a mountain of congratulatory messages from the university board, but he barely had the energy to read them.
Tim tossed his duffel bag onto the armchair, turning to Willy with a bright, competitive glint in his dark eyes. "I know your muscles are completely drained from the firing line, Captain, but it is officially time to change into your evening wear. We have a massive victory to celebrate tonight. Tell me honestly, are you mentally prepared for our official drinking match?"
Willy let out a confident, breathless laugh, unbuttoning his athletic jacket. "I'm more than ready, Tim. I gave you my word of honor yesterday, and I won't back down from a challenge."
They quickly changed into elegant, sleek outfits fitting for a celebration and headed back up to the private rooftop terrace. The moment the elevator doors slid open, Willy stopped, a soft gasp escaping his lips. The management staff had completely redesigned the space over the course of the afternoon. This time, the glass pavilion was entirely filled with thousands of pristine white lilies and deep crimson roses, their sweet fragrance filling the night air. Sitting directly in the center of the candlelit table was a massive, masterfully arranged bouquet.
Tim smoothly led Willy over to the table, lifting the heavy bouquet and handing it directly into his arms.
"Congratulations again, Captain," Tim whispered, his gaze deep and meltingly soft. "My boyfriend is officially the greatest marksman in the world."
Willy looked down at the flowers, a profound warmth filling his chest. "Thank you, Tim... I honestly don't comprehend how you manage to coordinate these elaborate setups in a matter of hours."
Tim smiled smoothly, pulling out Willy's chair for him. "I told you, I have an exceptional network of loyal helpers in this building."
"I know," Willy sighed, setting the bouquet down as he slid into his seat. "But Tim... you are spending an absolute fortune on these setups. It's insane."
Tim dismissed the comment with a casual wave of his hand as he walked over to the private bar layout. "Don't drain your brain cells worrying about my corporate accounts, Willy. Trust me, I am absolutely not going to go broke from purchasing a few flowers for the person I love."
Tim scanned the premium crystal decanters lined up on the marble counter. "Alright, we have an exceptionally wide variety of imports here tonight. Which specific vintage do you want to initiate the match with, Captain?"
Willy leaned back in his chair, a bold, competitive smirk playing on his lips. "Whatever you want, Tim. Pick your poison. I told you already I am an exceptionally strong drinker."
Tim paused, lifting a sleek crystal bottle, a highly dangerous, incredibly amused glint entering his dark eyes. "Are you absolutely certain about that claim, Willy?"
"One hundred percent," Willy challenged, tilting his chin up. "You make the selection."
Willy watched as Tim expertly poured the deep liquid, returning to the table a moment later with two elegant crystal glasses.
"Drink up, Captain," Tim smiled, sliding the glass into his hand. "I truly hope you enjoy the selection."
Willy didn't hesitate for a single second. Intent on proving his dominance, he lifted the glass and downed the smooth liquid in a single, confident gulp. It tasted sweet, remarkably smooth, and didn't carry the harsh burn of a high-proof spirit.
Willy set the empty glass down with a satisfied smirk. "Excellent vintage. Now, it's officially your turn to match my pace, Tim."
Tim didn't say a word. He lifted his own glass, locking eyes with Willy, and downed the contents without a shred of hesitation.
The lines were officially drawn. The celebration was rapidly devolving into an all-out, high-stakes competition and neither of them had any intention of backing down first.