Hello Hurricane {English Translation}

1. Domen - Oberstdorf - Day before qualification

Hello dear ones out there! 

Welcome to "Hello Hurricane"! I'm glad that you have lost your way here and give the story a chance. As you may have noticed, this is a translation of my story. I just wanted to give it a try. But English isn't my native language, so I hope the translation isn't too bad to enjoy reading.

And before you start reading, don't forget: This is only fiction. I don't know any of the persons. ;) 

1. Domen - Oberstdorf - Day before qualification

"Hey kid! You should get up! Breakfast starts in ten minutes and Goran doesn't like it when we're late!" Anže told his roommate to finally get his ass out of bed. The older Slovenian didn't feel like getting into trouble with his boss because of this baby boy again.That had started happening more often lately. Actually, since his roommate, who obviously had problems with punctuality, had joined the crew. And it was not that early in the morning. Goran had helped them out of bed at far more ungodly hours than nine in the morning.

The older Slovenian looked around their room. Their stuff was scattered everywhere. Suits were hanging from the closet, shoes were scattered wildly on the floor, as were their clothes, and their open bottles of water were still on the table next to their laptops. Anže grabbed his sweater, ran to the windows and pulled up the blinds to let in more light, in the hope that the younger Slovenian would get up. But Domen just snarled and pulled the pillows over his head.

"Get up!", Anže hissed again, this time a little louder, and now stood directly in front of the bed of Domen, while he put on his sweater.

"Get lost! I'm tired!" An unfriendly growl came from under the pillows. Domen hated having to get up so early. He saw no problem there. He could start his training in two hours and he could have breakfast on the way there. Why did his roommate sometimes behave like a governess? Anže should go to breakfast on time if he wanted. After all, the older Slovenian wouldn't miss him. It wasn't like Domen had to feed him. And when Anže finally disappeared, he could sleep in peace, Domen thought wistfully. This hotel bed was a dream.

Then Domen felt a pull on his blanket. "Don't you dare!" he grunted darkly, clinging to his blanket with all his might. It wouldn't be the first time his roommate simply took his blanket away and forced him to get up.

"Okay! As you wish: come too late! I don't care. But don't say I didn't try," he heard Anže grumble. Shortly thereafter, the door fell into the lock and finally a pleasant silence fell. Satisfied, Domen snuggled deeper into his pillows. Stupid overdone sack, he thought. Anže could kiss the coach's ass, if he wanted, but Domen didn't need that. His achievements speak for themselves and no one would dare to punish him properly. And even if they did: what were they really going to do? Forbid him from jumping? Probably not. The audience liked him. In a very brief time he had gathered a respectable fan base who would rip his trainer to shreds if he dared. And not to mention the association's response. No, that would never happen. And he had never shied away from an extra training session. After all, his success took hard work. With a satisfied smile he turned over again.

"Don't run like that! There's still two hours until the press conference! That's enough for breakfast! "

Could they not go past his door a little quie-

PRESS CONFERENCE?!?! THAT WAS TODAY?! Shocked, Domen sat up hastily and stared at his cell phone.

"Shit!"

How could he have forgotten that? He was one of the favorites for the 4 Hills Tournament and should probably hurry up now. Domen hurried into the bathroom, brushed his teeth, got dressed, and straightened his hair at the speed of light. Goran wanted to discuss the press strategy with them today. That was immensely important for not getting in trouble with the Slovenian Ski Association afterwards. Not that he was blabbing something they didn't want him to. Regardless, information for dealing with the press was never to be despised. Especially if, like him, you put so much emphasis on cultivating a professional image. Maybe then the world would catch onto the fact that he was an adult now, and not a little child.