Chapter Text
The noise of the track faded the moment the heavy doors of the locker room slammed shut.
Desire stood in front of the mirror, her hands trembling so hard she could barely unfasten the buckles of her racing gear. The trophy sat forgotten on the bench behind her, its polished surface reflecting the harsh overhead lights.
To the rest of the world, she was the champion of the Al Maktoum Challenge. To herself, she was just a small puddle of sweat and worry.
She peeled off the crimson racewear, the fabric heavy with Dubai sand and the heartbreaking reminder of Vodka's blood on her sleeve, the silks matching the exact shade of the others liquid.
Why.
Why did it have to be you?
Why must i see your cyans and yellows covered in red?
Scrubbing her face hastily with a cold towel, she threw on her casual clothes, a comfortable grey track jacket and jeans, and grabbed her bag.
Her chest was tight, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm born entirely of worry as she slipped out the back exit of the venue, desperate to get to the hospital.
Before she even hailed a taxi, no, she won with these legs, she can run there. Desire forced herself to stop at a brightly lit convenience store just outside the venue grounds. The shelves were packed with foreign brands, Arabic text, and unfamiliar labels, making her feel completely isolated in her panic.
Her eyes scanned the aisles frantically, her breathing shallow as she searched for anything familiar, anything Vodka would be fond of.
.
.
.
The door swung inward as Desire practically stormed inside. She was still panting slightly, her casual track jacket slightly disheveled from her frantic run through the Dubai night.
In her hand, she clutched a crinkling convenience store bag like a prized trophy, far more tightly than she had held the actual one on the podium just an hour prior.
Propped up against a mountain of stiff pillows, Vodka moved her head toward the entrance. A white gown had replaced her dirt-stained racing silks, and her nose had finally stopped bleeding, though her face was still pale beneath her usual tan.
"Desire?" Vodka blinked, her eyes widening in genuine shock. She immediately tried to straighten her posture, even if it was difficult for her to get up.
"What the hell are you doing here already? You're the champion today!” Vodka exclaimed, in genuine worry. “Y..You can't just dive out the back door.. For me."
"I don't care about the press conference," Desire said, her voice high and tight with panic as she kicked the door shut behind her with her foot.
Never in her life would she think she’d be this.. Rough? Kicking doors, rushing through establishments. Presenting herself in such a delinquent-esq state?
But the worry.
The worry ate her alive. It was hard even for a saintress like her.
You can’t pray away worry.
She crossed the sterile room, the plastic bag rustling loudly in the quiet space.
"And I told you I was coming the exact second I could leave the track, Vodka.."
Vodka was genuinely surprised, a faint prickle of warmth bloomed in her chest. "I told you I was fine.. It’s just a stupid nosebleed from the desert heat.”
“..You didn't need to skip your own celebration to come sit in a..Boring hospital room. This is so embarrassing.. Seeing me like this."
"It wasn't just a stupid nosebleed, Vodka.." Desire countered softly, her tone shifting from frantic panic to something agonizingly earnest.
She stepped directly into Vodka’s personal space, sitting down on the edge of the mattress. The comforting scent of Desire’s perfume instantly cut through the clinical smell of antiseptic in the room.
She set the plastic bag on the bedside table and began pulling out the contents: two bottles of an electrolyte-heavy sports drink, a couple of high-protein recovery bars, and three bars of the exact, ultra sweet milk chocolate Vodka always kept hidden in her Tracen dormitory drawer.
Vodka stared at the candy, her jaw dropping slightly. "Are those... how did you even find these? We're halfway across the world."
"I looked through every single shelf at the store down the street.." Desire murmured, her fingers lingering on the edge of the chocolate wrapper before she looked up, her gaze locking onto Vodka's face. "I know you hate hospital food. And I know you pretend to be bulletproof, but you still need to recover, Vodka.."
Beep... beep... beep…
The steady, slow, mechanical cadence of the heart monitor hooked to Vodka’s arm suddenly hitched.
The machine spiked into a semi-rapid rhythm, the digital green numbers on the screen climbing higher with every passing second that Desire remained sitting on the edge of the mattress.
Vodka froze, her entire face instantly flushing into a deep red. She looked at the monitor in absolute horror, her jaw tightening as she prepared to stammer out some defensive excuse about a technical glitch. How could something so simple as remembering her favorite chocolate get her this flustered?
But the words died in her throat.
Desire didn't say a word. She just turned her head and met Vodka’s eyes. Her expression was a silent reassurance that she wasn't going to push, break her pride, or make her explain the sudden racing of her heart.
Under the weight of that gentle gaze, the tension in Vodka’s shoulders finally broke. She let out a defeated sigh, casting her eyes downward toward the white sheets.
The frantic beep-beep-beep of the monitor slowly, gradually began to level out, settling back into a rhythmic hum as the initial wave of panic subsided into a shared intimacy.
Breaking the silence, Desire tore open the wrapper of the milk chocolate bar she had just bought. The rich, familiar scent of cocoa immediately drifted through the sterile air.
"Here," Desire murmured, her voice a low, soothing melody. She snapped off a small square and held it out. "You need to get your blood sugar back up, Vodka.. I was planning to get you something with more Vitamin C, but that'll make you get a nosebleed again."
Vodka looked from the chocolate up to Desire’s face. Realizing she didn't have the energy to fight, and she didn’t want to, she leaned her head forward slightly, letting Desire pop a piece into her mouth.
The sweetness hit her tongue, instantly cutting through the metallic taste that had plagued her since the track.
"Thanks," Vodka mumbled around the bite, her voice still a little thick and raspy from the exhaustion. "It's... actually exactly what I wanted."
"I know, I remember the day that you told me this was your favorite chocolate.. " Desire replied softly. She reached into the plastic bag again, uncapping one of the drinks and placing it firmly into the others hand. "Drink slowly, Vodka.."
Vodka took a sip, the cool liquid soothing her throat. She watched as Desire stood up, walked over to the small sink in the corner of the room, and soaked a cloth in warm water. When she returned to the bedside, the cloth was steaming gently, radiating a humid warmth.
"Lean forward a little, Vodka," Desire instructed, her hands incredibly steady as she stepped closer into Vodka's personal bubble.
Vodka complied, closing her eyes as the warm cloth made contact with her skin. Desire worked with gentleness. She gently wiped away the sweat clinging to the edges of Vodka’s jawline.
Before moving upward to carefully clean the sensitive tips of her ears, causing the delinquent to let out a soft whimper from the contact.
Every touch was light as a feather, filled with a deep, protective devotion from the saintress herself. Under the soothing feeling of the warm cloth, Vodka felt the last of her "tough senior" defenses completely melt away, leaving nothing but the reality of being cared for by the person she loved most.
Desire gently set the cloth on the edge of the bedside tray. Turning back to her plastic bag, she reached past the remaining snacks and pulled out a wide-toothed wooden hairbrush she had slipped out of her own locker room bag before leaving Nad Al Sheba.
"Your hair is still a bit tangled," Desire murmured, her voice a soft, soothing whisper in the quiet room. She stood up, moving carefully around to the side of the bed so she could comfortably reach the back of Vodka’s head. "May I?"
She nodded, her head dropping forward slightly to give Desire better access. The tough, unyielding posture she usually maintained at Tracen was completely gone, replaced by a surrender to the comfort that was given to her by the crimson haired girl once again.
Desire began to brush, her movements slow and gentle. She started at the tips of Vodka’s hair, gently untangling the knots left behind by the sweat, before moving upward in rhythmic strokes.
Every pull of the brush was incredibly tender, reminding the brown haired girl about how her father used to do this when she was little.
Her father used to do this.
Her father.
Would her father be proud of this loss?
For a long time, the only sound was the soft, rhythmic hush... hush... of the bristles through Vodka’s hair.
"You really flew out there, you know," Vodka broke the silence, her voice cracking slightly as she stared down at her own hands resting on the blanket.
"When you dropped your stance and unleashed that spurt... I could hear the dirt kicking up behind me. I hoped.. No.. I knew it was you before I even saw the crimson.
It was so. Fucking. Cool.”
Desire’s hands paused for a fraction of a second before resuming their soothing rhythm.
“T..Thank you, it really is an honor. But,
I was only running the race we trained for, Vodka.
I don’t deserve praise for this, not when you’re hurt..”
"No, it was more than that, Desire," Vodka muttered, a familiar spark of intense, competitive pride flickering in her eyes, even as she sat helplessly under the brush. "That was a champion’s surge. You left Allybar like she was standing still.
When I lost my line... when my legs wouldn't move... I was terrified the pack would swallow us both. But you just blew right past them all!"
Desire moved the brush gently around the base of Vodka’s ears again, untangling the fine hairs that had flattened. She leaned in just a bit closer, her breathing soft against Vodka's neck.
"I only ran that fast because I was trying to catch up to you," Desire whispered, her voice soft-spoken.
"The entire straightaway, I kept waiting for you to stride right next to mine, turning it into the duel we promised we’d have."
Our reds and yellows, clashing together.
Vodka let out a heavy breath, her shoulders sagging as the gentle advances on her distracted her from the eighth-place finish.
"I wanted to. God, Desire, I wanted to spurt with you so badly. But the track just... turned to gray. It was so fucking hard to catch up for some reason. I’m so sorry.."
"You mustn't apologize for such," Desire exclaimed. She set the brush down on the bedside table and stepped back to meet Vodka’s gaze.
She reached out, her cool fingers lightly resting over Vodka's calloused knuckles. "You mustn't downplay yourself either, you still pushed through despite your pain,
that takes more strength than winning ever could."
“You’re..
You’re the most amazing, coolest person I know, Vodka.”
Vodka looked up, her eyes locking onto Desire’s face. The sweetness of the chocolate, the warmth of the cloth, and the steady rhythm of the brush had completely re-anchored her.
The frustration was still there, but looking at the soft smile on her junior's face, the sting of the loss felt a whole lot lighter.
"You're way too good to me," Vodka mumbled, a faint, genuine flush rising on her cheeks as she squeezed Desire's fingers back.
"I'm exactly as good to you as you deserve.." Desire replied softly, her thumb tracing a gentle circle over Vodka's hand. “You’re everything to me, Vodka.”
Vodka stared down at her calloused knuckles, her jaw tightening until the muscles clicked. However, a still smile could still be seen on her face.
The eyes that usually could focus on every detail on the track, quite like an eagle, fixated on a tiny wrinkle in the sterile white hospital sheets.
But no matter how small the sting was, it was still there.
"The trainers were talking outside before you came in," Vodka said, her voice dropping into a whisper.
"They thought I was asleep. They were using words like 'chronic' and 'respiratory strain.' They were talking about Japan... about sending me back home for evaluations."
Desire’s heart squeezed painfully in her chest. She kept her fingers resting over Vodka's hand, feeling the tremor running through the senior's arm. "Vodka, they just want to make sure you're safe-"
"I don't want to be safe, Desire!" Vodka suddenly snapped, her head whipping around. The sudden burst of frustration sharp, cutting through the air.
She pulled her hand away from Desire's grasp, clenching it into a tight fist against her knee. "If I can't run... if my body is starting to give out on me after one bad situation... then what am I supposed to do?
I’m nothing like my seniors. I’ll never be as cool as them, winning G1s so fuckin’ effortlessly!"
She choked on the sentence, her voice completely cracked. She didn't finish the word ‘retirement’, but it hung in the air.
Vodka was terrified. For a champion who had defined her entire existence by her power, the sudden doom of her future was a nightmare she couldn't outrun.
She knew Vodka's anger wasn't directed at her; it was like hearing the thrashing of a caged lion desperate to find an exit.
Without saying a word, she leaned back into Vodka’s space. She didn't argue, and she didn't offer empty promises about how everything would be perfectly fine. Vodka was her pride and joy, the sun that woke her up, and the night that put her back to sleep. Saintresses can’t lie about future outcomes.
Saintresses can’t lie.
Saintresses can’t.
..Saintress?
Can you hear me, Saintress?
.
"Look at me, Vodka," Desire murmured.
Vodka blinked, her eyes glossy as she looked at her junior.
Desire reached out again, her hands completely unyielding this time as she slid both of her palms over Vodka’s tightly clenched fist, gently coaxing her fingers to open up.
She slid her fingers between Vodka's yet again, intertwining their hands together on the bedsheets.
"We don't know what tomorrow looks like, Vodka.." Desire whispered earnestly, her eyes locking onto Vodka's with a deep, heart-pounding devotion. "You are the senior that inspired me to start running. I’m.. I was so infatuated by you."
“You still have such.. Such amazing G1 wins.. You have friends that love you, you have family that loves you. I.
I love you.
I prayed for a moment like this - to travel with you, for our racing silks to cross paths while we stride for victory. I look at you for who you are not.. For what you could do.”
Vodka’s trembled slightly, the sheer weight of Desire's words breaking through her.
"But what if I can't run anymore, Desire? What if I'm...
..left behind?"
"You will never be left behind," Desire promised.
Desire has never broken a promise.
She leaned in a fraction closer, her chest pressing gently against Vodka's, their faces inches apart.
"If you run, I will be the late surger chasing your shadow.
If you have to step back, I will carry your fire onto every single track I step on.. Just like a motorcycle cutting through the wind.."
Vodka let out a long, shuddering breath. She looked up at Desire, her eyes focused only on the girl in front of her. With Desire sitting right there and holding her hand, the scary thoughts about the future didn't seem so loud anymore, even if the thoughts wouldn’t go away entirely.
The distance was so small - yet, both of them knew how much they wanted to close it.
She squeezed Desire’s hand back with all the remaining strength she had left, her thumb tracing the smooth fabric of her jacket.
Desire leaned in slowly, closing the remaining distance between them.
The kiss was gentle, tasting faintly of the milk chocolate Vodka was fed not long ago.
It was a promise that no matter what happened next with her racing career, Vodka would be the coolest person she’d know in her entire life.
“I love you too, Desire.”