Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Marc can’t pinpoint exactly when he fell in love with Dani Pedrosa. It happened so gradually that he barely knew what was going on; starting as hero worship, changing to friendship, somewhere along the way becoming more than that… And Marc knows that he’s in too deep. He shouldn’t feel this way about Dani; a man seven years his elder, with so much more experience and talent and who happens to like girls. A lot.

It’s wrong that he should feel this way, he knows that. He knows it every time he glances longingly across the garage, every time he laughs that bit too hard at one of Dani’s jokes, every time he sleeps with someone and shuts his eyes tightly, pretending it’s Dani who’s kissing him- Dani whose hands are wandering all over his body… But he is powerless to stop it.

Because you can’t help who you fall in love with.

And has Marc tried. It’s not like he wants to feel this way. He doesn’t want to meet another of Dani’s girlfriends and then go home that night and cry himself to sleep once again. He doesn’t want to feel like his heart is going to explode in his chest every time Dani casually touches him. He certainly doesn’t want to feel that he would forgive him absolutely anything. Dani could purposely take him out in the last corner and ruin his championship chances and Marc would still find a way to forgive him. It could take a couple of weeks or months but eventually everything would be forgiven.

It makes him weak.

He doesn’t like feeling week. He also doesn’t like getting his heart ripped from his chest every day when Dani treats him as nothing more than a friend. The worst part is, he’s pretty sure everyone in the world, bar Dani of course, can see that he’s completely in love with the older rider. He sees it in Alex’s eyes every time someone mentions Dani. He sees it in his parents’ whenever they catch him crying alone in his room. He sees it in his team’s eyes every time Dani snaps at him.

And Marc would give absolutely anything not to feel the way he does. Because it’s tearing him apart; day in, out. Because Dani can have anyone he wants- he has had anyone he wants- and Marc isn’t included it that special group. Because it seems that love and happiness revolve around Dani.

But the worst part of it all is that Marc won’t lose hope. Because he knows that as long as Dani is still breathing there’s a chance. That chance may be practically non-existent but Marc will still try until the day that he dies or Dani turns around and tells him that he no longer wants him in his life. Whichever comes first.

So he’ll keep waiting and maybe the day will come when Dani will see that he’s waiting right there.

Because waiting makes me love you even more.

Chapter Text

Nico wins the race. Just like he has the last couple of times. Whole load of good it does him, though. Yes, he gets the points and retains the lead in the championship and that’s great, fantastic even, but he’s got more stuff than Formula 1 on his mind these days. He has other problems.

Ironically, all those problems seem to stem from F1 anyway.

He doesn’t bother turning on the light when he makes his way into the bedroom. There’s no point. He just sheds his clothes and climbs into bed, which is far too cold for his liking now that there’s no longer anyone sharing it with him.

A lot has changed in the space of seven months. Things weren’t always like this. It seems laughable that there was a time when race nights would be spent celebrating together. Content but positive that they could do better, that they could push that little bit further and get the results that they were really looking for. Nights that were spent with kisses and caresses and promises…

And now Nico is left with nothing. And it’s not his fault.

Lewis has changed. Competition has brought out the worst in him. Nico understands that he really wants to win this championship, they both do, but surely there has to come a point when one decides that enough is enough- that it’s not worth pushing too far.

But Lewis doesn’t get that. He doesn’t see what he’s done to the guy who used to love him more than anything; win, lose or whatever. He’s too focused on winning to see that it’s all broken beyond repair.

The truth is, Nico is sick to death of the lot of it. If he wins the championship, he’ll be happy but at the moment it just feels like all it’s brought him is pain and suffering. And the worst part is that Lewis can’t even see what he’s doing to him. The comments to the media, the little things he’s implying, the person that he has turned into…

It’s not someone that Nico wants to be involved with.

So whenever he sees a newspaper with a headline saying ‘Hamilton: I’m better than Nico’ or ‘He’s Not Even German’, Nico just laughs and pretends that it isn’t tearing him apart. But it is because no matter how he tries, he can’t forget that until very recently he loved Lewis. And even then that love was slow to go away. But it’s completely gone now and it makes him sad. Sad because he knows they could have been happy together, that they could have shared success and failure until the day they retired, because they could have spent the rest of their lives together.

But all of that is lost forever now. And Nico is okay with that. He gets on with his life as he usually does. It’s just a lot lonelier. He just keeps reminding himself of what it will feel like when he wins his first championship, how proud of him his father will be. How he will write his name into that exclusive book of drivers. The all-time greats. Joining Lewis right there.

This time on equal terms once again.

Chapter Text

“Do you want to get out of here?” Daniel wonders, eyes dark and glimmering after one too many beers.

Jean-Eric arches an eyebrow suddenly feeling defiant as a result of some liquid courage. “Oh yeah? And where do you suppose we go?”

Dan grins and takes his team-mate by the hand. “Come on. I’ve been here before.” The Frenchman doesn’t need any further persuasion. They make their way through the dense crowd, weaving their way through the swaying bodies towards the door on the far side of the room. Neither realise just how hot it is in the function room until they step outside and are hit with a blast of frigid air.

“Where to now?” Jean-Eric asks as he stares out into the dark car park, wondering where they could possibly be going that didn’t involve them actually driving to another location.

Dan doesn’t answer. Instead, he tugs gently on his team-mate’s wrist once again and leads him down the path parallel to the hotel and around the corner, meaning that they are now submerged in darkness. It doesn’t take long for their eyes to adjust and Jean-Eric realises where they are stopped; right in front of the fire escape.

He immediately finds himself shaking his head as Dan looks at him with a devastatingly beautiful smile. “No way. I am not going up there.”

“Oh, come on, Jev! You’re not afraid of heights, are you?”

“Yeah, I am. So what?” He wonders, pride obvious in his voice. Make fun of me, he dares.

Dan doesn’t make fun of him, instead just looks at the younger man pleadingly. “I’ll hold onto you, I promise. I’ll be right there.”

At first Jev is sure that he’s going to say no again but that resolve falters slightly when he sees the adorable look on his team-mate’s face. It’s one of those ones that makes his heart melt and gives him butterflies in his stomach. Stupid butterflies… So he finds himself sighing and conceding, much to the exultation of the happy-go-lucky Australian.

Jean-Eric goes first, climbing carefully and slowly up the (unstable) metal ladder. Dan, as promised, stays right behind him, climbing each step very slowly so that he can keep one hand on his team-mate’s lower back just to reassure him that he’s there. They quickly make it to the top (in one piece) and Jev doesn’t even want to think about how they’re going to get back down again.

The roof is not what he expects. Instead of being dirty and dark, it is actually quite nice and illuminated by small lamps. If he didn’t know any better, he would say that Daniel put them up there before the party. That notion is quickly proved to be true when he spots a picnic blanket with beer and wine and treats of different sorts and Jean-Eric can definitely say that he’s impressed.

“So… what do you think?”

“It’s… very well thought out,” the Frenchman replies honestly, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Dan blushes and awkwardly rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah… I just had inkling that the party was going to get a bit busy and I thought it would be nice to just…”

“Have a party of our own here?”

“Yeah. We can still hear the music and everything.”

Jean-Eric chuckles fondly and places a soft kiss on his team-mates lips. “It’s a very good idea.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

So they get their little party started and Jev has to admit that it’s a much better idea than being squished downstairs. They’re able to lie beneath the stars and drink good wine and just talk about things they wouldn’t ever talk about under different circumstances. Because there’ just something about being under the stars that does that. So Jean-Eric confides in Dan and Dan confides in Jean-Eric and they talk and laugh and talk some more.

After what seems like an eternity, the song changes once again and Dan grins so much that Jev actually thinks that he’s going to pull a muscle or something. He clambers to his feet and dusts himself down before extending a hand to the younger man.

Jean-Eric stares at it for a moment before throwing caution to the wind and taking Dan’s hand. He was quickly helped to his feet. “What now?”

Once again, Dan just grins and takes both of the Frenchman’s hands and places them on his shoulders. His own hands are placed firmly on Jev’s hips and he finally understands what’s going on. Dancing, we’re dancing. Neither says a word as they begin to gently sway to the lilting music. The only thing that goes through Jean-Eric’s mind is how bizarre the whole thing is. He’s on a roof, in a suit, slow dancing with his gorgeous team-mate to a romantic song… It’s definitely not the way he envisioned the night going… but he’s more than willing to accept it.

“Oh, show me heaven, cover me, leave me breathless…”

The sound of Daniel singing along startles him to say the least and he looks up once again into warm brown eyes. “You like this song?” Jean-Eric wonders, a playful smile on his face. “Mr. Punk-Rock also likes cheesy eighties music?”

Dan rolls his eyes but his cheeks are a rather appealing shade of pink. “It’s a classic. Is that okay with you? I do like other types of music you know.”

He removes his arms from around the Australian’s neck briefly to hold his hands up in mock surrender. “It’s fine. Just shows another side of you. I like that.”

“You do?” his team-mate wonders, head cocked to the side and shining once again.

Jean-Eric bites his lip and nods, taking a deep breath before leaning in to kiss the taller man once again. It’s not the same as before though. It seems more… intimate. Like Daniel showing that little piece of himself somehow makes things more serious. There’s an obvious shift but it is not necessarily unwelcome. “How many men or women have you had up here?”

Dan looks right into his eyes, gaze burning with intensity. “None. I only found it this morning.”

Neither say anymore on the subject. They just continue to sway to the music in silence, sharing smiles and kisses regularly and it’s so perfect that Jean-Eric never wants to leave. He just wants to stay there beneath the stars forever.

Yes, heaven seems like a pretty accurate description.

Chapter Text

Mark is expecting the knock. So when hears the sound of a fist urgently colliding with the wooden hotel room door, he immediately gets up from the bed and answers it; his heart beating a bit too unsteadily for his liking. It’s who he’s expecting. Fernando is standing right there in front of him, a wary expression on his face as if he’s torn between going inside and fleeing the hotel altogether. Eventually, the former seems to win out.

“Hi,” he greets the Australian plainly, pushing past him.

Hi. Mark pauses for a moment before closing the door. It’s crazy how different everything seems now. Even with the copious amount of alcohol he had consumed at the after party still running through his veins, it’s still a little hard to digest. So Mark takes a deep breath and swallows hard before he finally turns around to face the man that he’s been through so much with over the years.

He wants to say something- he really should- but he doesn’t get the chance. Fernando’s are suddenly on his and it’s all pressure and force and desperation and so far removed from what it’s usually like that Mark is too startled to respond for a minute. But he adjusts quickly enough because this is Fernando and Fernando always gets a reaction out of him.

Soon his hands are tangled up in Fernando’s hair, pulling him closer and closer though it probably isn’t physically possible. Clothes are shed quickly and desperately before they topple down onto the bed, both needing to feel something more- something to tell them that it’s not as bad as it seems.

But even the sex isn’t the same. It’s rough and impersonal and over far too quickly for both of their liking. And all Mark can think is they’ve done it wrong. Because it wasn’t meant to happen like this. Because it was never meant to be like this but somewhere along the way something went wrong. Neither of them are at fault, it just is what it is.

But Mark knows that if he could he would go back. Do it all over again and do it right; do it right so that they end up together instead of saying goodbye like this, give them the happy ending they should have. So that their carefree plans for the future would actually come in fruition. He wants to cry and he’s sure Fernando does too because it’s just too hard to believe that this is it- that they will never sit next to each other in a press conference again or battle for the podium or kiss… Because what they have just done will never happen again. And even if it does, it will never be the same. The carefree attitude they once had is long gone.

“I really thought you were going to win this one,” Fernando comments, his voice is alarmingly emotionless and vibrates against the bare skin of his chest.

Mark knows he’s talking about the race- his last race- but at that moment it’s the last thing he wants to think about. He steadies himself for a moment, because one wrong move and he’s sure all his walls will come tumbling down, before replying “Yeah, me too.”

He’s not talking about the race.

Chapter Text

Seb knows it’s probably a bad idea to let Jenson pick the movie. Once he comes back from the bathroom and sees the delighted/embarrassed look on the older man’s face, it’s pretty evident what’s going to happen. He’s learned not to fight it by this stage and just cuddles up next to his boyfriend on the couch under the blanket he’d brought from the bedroom. Seb silently presses a kiss against Jenson’s temple and the Englishman presses the play button on the remote.

Once again, a very familiar song fills the room as the credits he’s seen about ten times already appear on the screen. Seb rolls his eyes and throws his head back. If he wasn’t so amused by the whole thing, he would probably would be annoyed. “Dirty Dancing? Again? You could probably get a role in the musical at this stage- I could probably get a role and I haven’t seen it nearly as many times as you!”

Jenson, whose expression is a weird combination of sheepishness and mischief, sticks out his tongue. “You said I could pick the movie, so tough luck.”

The German doesn’t say anymore; he knows better to say anything negative about Jenson’s favourite movie. So as the seemingly never ending opening credits continue to roll, he gets to work on stuffing his face with popcorn.

“It was the summer of 1963, when everyone called me baby and it never occurred to me to mind. It was before Kennedy got shot, before The Beatles, when I wanted to join the Peace Corps and I didn't think I'd ever find a guy as great as my dad.”

Seb mouths the opening lines in perfect timing, not sure whether he should be amused or very alarmed. There are a few more instances like that but, despite it all, he couldn’t really find it within himself to care. Because Seb loves Jense and Jense loves Dirty Dancing so, therefore, Seb loves it too… well, to a certain extent anyway.

“Remember that time we were on holiday in Italy and you insisted we recreate that,” the Red Bull driver recollects with a massive smile as they watched the famous lake scene.

Jenson blushes slightly but still manages to shoot a glare at the younger man. Seb is just surprises that he can tear his eyes away long enough to actually do that. “Yeah and I tore a muscle in my back. You’re a lot heavier than you look,” with that simple statement, his attention is once again turned back to the movie.

 But in all honestly, Seb doesn’t really mind watching Dirty Dancing once again (not at all because he thinks that Patrick Swayze is actually really hot in it…). He comes up with a plan, one that is actually quite genius, if he does say so himself. For Jenson’s birthday in two months’ time, they will fly to London to see the musical, stay in a really nice hotel in the city centre and go for dinner in a really nice restaurant. Jenson will have the time of his life (pun intended) and at that dinner Sebastian will slip a ring into his boyfriend’s glass of champagne and, given that he doesn’t choke on it, he’ll ask Jenson to do him the honour of marrying him.

With a knowing smile on his face, Seb leans over and places a gentle kiss on the corner of his boyfriend’s mouth which soon becomes an actual kiss when Jenson turns his head so their lips meet.

And hopefully he’ll say yes.

Chapter Text

Aleix takes a deep breath before saying the words that he’s been wanting to say for the past three months, two weeks and four days. “Stay.”

Not exactly sure that he’s heard correctly, Jorge freezes while in the process of pulling on his pants. He turns his head to look at the younger rider who is now tangled up in a sheet with a curious expression on his face. “You want me to stay?”

Aleix suddenly blushes, hoping he doesn’t look too embarrassed. “Yeah? I mean, it’s raining pretty heavy out there and it is three o’clock in the morning… Only if you want though. If that’s not your thing-“

“Aleix?”

“Yeah?”

“Stop talking,” Jorge says with a small smile as he chucks his pants into the corner before climbing back into bed next to his fellow rider. He wonders if Aleix sees through his bravado, because inside he’s kinda freaking out. This isn’t something they do. They have sex and then say goodbye and repeat. Not once has his fellow Spaniard asked him to stay the night.

And it’s awkward. Neither of them say anything and neither knows how close together they should be (or far apart) or where to put their hands or where to look…

After a moment of discomfort, Aleix sits up in the bed. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. It’s weird. You can go if you want.”

Jorge wants to take his lover up on his offer, he really does but that’s only because of the part of him that likes to run. And he knows he probably should run because staying will only make things complicated but he also knows that there’s a reason Aleix asked him to stay. So Jorge sighs, quiet enough so his fellow rider won’t feel even worse than he obviously already does and scoots closer so he is almost pressed up against him. “Talk to me. What’s going on in that mind of yours?”

He may look relatively collected on the outside but a million thoughts are whizzing around his mine at the same time. And he doesn’t know which or how many or if any he should voice. So he opens his mouth, then closes it and opens it and closes it again before finally deciding that he should just tell the truth. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

Not exactly what I was expecting. “Oh?”

“Yeah… And it’s not because I don’t like you or whatever. I just… I just can’t keep watching you walk away like that. And I know it’s stupid because you’re you and you’re just… well, who you are but I can’t help it.”

Jorge is officially lost for words. Aleix isn’t looking at him and that’s probably a good thing because he hasn’t got a clue what his expression is like right now. Because it’s impossible to mistake the affection and hurt in the younger man’s voice and it gets him a lot more than he could have ever imagined. He’s pretty sure he knows what Aleix is getting at. “Look at me,” he tells him after a prolonged moment, needing to actually see his fellow rider’s face.

Aleix hesitates for a moment before complying, feeling like a complete idiot. I should have just kept my big mouth shut.

“You’re right. You deserve better than what I’ve been giving you. I’m sorry.”

It hurts Aleix a lot more than he thought it would. He has to take a deep breath to keep his voice even. “Right. So I guess that’s it then…”

Jorge can’t help but smile. “No, that’s not it.”

“Then would you mind enlightening me because it’s three o’clock in the morning and I’m done assuming things.”

Right. Yeah, I guess an explanation is needed… The Mallorcan hesitates for a moment before leaning over and placing a soft kiss on his lover’s lips. “Is this what you want? For me not to leave? For us to put all our cards on the table?”

“Is that what you want? Because my cards are pretty much already on the table…”

That’s the question. “It’s just… not what I’m used to,” he replies truthfully and a wounded expression immediately appears on Aleix’s face, “That doesn’t mean it’s not what I want, though. But what bothers me the most is that you seem to think that I don’t care about you at all… and I do. So if you want me to stay, I’ll stay. I’ll stay any night you ask- I’ll stay every night you ask. So if you want to be more than what we are now, you just have to ask.”

Aleix’s eyes widen and he observes the other man very carefully for any sign that he might be joking. “I just have to ask?”

Jorge nods, hardly able to believe that things have taken such a turn. “You just have to ask. So ask.”

And for the first time in a while, Aleix smiles- he really smiles. He scoots a little bit closer so that their faces are only centimetres apart. “Jorge Lorenzo, will you be mine?”

The Mallorcan returns the smile and closes the distance between their lips. “Yes.”

All you ever had to do is ask.

Chapter Text

Vale used to be able to sleep. But that seems like a lifetime ago now. The days when he would crawl into bed alone on race weekends at ten o’clock and sleep through the night are long gone. Now the nights are filled with kisses and whispers and burning dark eyes that seem to be able to see right through to his soul. So he’s given up on sleep.

And it’s not because they’re up all night. No, the Moto3 rider lying close to his side is fast asleep, lips moving gently every now and again as he half-mumbles about nothing in particular. Valentino is not awarded any such luxury, however. Because sleep just isn’t an option, not when his mind is running overtime every single night that Alex occupies the space next to him in the bed.

As the Italian reaches out to touch the younger man for what seems like the hundredth time that night to check to see that this is all real, that it is actually happening and not just some restless dream, his fingers tremble before brushing against soft golden skin that is not yet taken over by scars. That’s another thing that gets him- the scars, or lack thereof. Because scars are part and parcel of their world and it just shows how little experience the youngest Marquez has.

Vale withdraws his hand once again and sighs, letting his head fall back on the duck feather pillow that is much too soft for his liking.

The guilt never really hits until moments like this. When Alex is there but not really and he’s left alone with his thoughts that are buzzing like bees in a hive that has been violently shaken. The afterglow is long gone and reality weighs heavy on him once again.

What they’re doing is wrong.

Or, rather, what he’s doing is wrong. Because Alex is so young and young definitely isn’t a word that could be used to describe Vale any more. It can be seen in his eyes, the way he moves, the way he speaks with such excitement… And Valentino loves it. He loves that, despite being more mature than a lot of people his eyes, he’s got this incredible innocence and naivety about him.

And Vale doesn’t really know what that says about him. Surely not anything good. Alex is too young for him by everyone’s standards. He knows it himself but that thought seems to disappear every time the young Spaniard kisses him, or smiles at him. In those moments, it’s as if everything is clear and right. It makes him feel like the age gap doesn’t matter; because it shouldn’t matter… but yet it does. And when they’re lying together like this, Alex long dreaming, he’s reminded of just how much.

Marc would kill him if he ever found out, that is one thing he knows for sure. Their friendship would be over once the eldest Marquez discovered what they have been doing. The betrayal. Julia would be right there with him. Dani would probably forgive him but that would be affected by his allegiance to Marc…

To put things plainly, everything would be a mess. He knows the logical thing would be to just stop but, then again, he’s never really been one for logic.

Because somehow, fully aware of all the risks, Vale can’t bring himself to stop whatever is going on between him and Alex. Because somewhere along the way something changed. When it became more than just sex. When lust was replaced by something more.

When he started to care.

And he cares a lot more than he ever thought he would. That’s really the only thing that keeps him going. If he didn’t feel the way he did, Vale would have walked away a long time ago. And he tried. But something just wouldn’t let him go. And he’s glad that it didn’t now.

Because Valentino hasn’t felt this way about someone in years; the excitement, the warmth, the affection... So he’ll put up with the guilt and the sleepless nights for as long as it takes. He’d rather have Alex there beside him any day of the week.

Because this time it’s different and that’s all that matters.

Chapter Text

“Where are you going?” Nico comes home one day to find Jenson’s bags all perched innocently by the front door. His heart immediately falters and his fists clench at the sight. He tries to remain calm, tries to see a logical explanation for this. One that doesn’t involve his heart shattering into a million little pieces to be swept away with the wind.

Jenson involuntarily flinches at the sound of the very familiar voice and looks up from where he had been putting his laptop back into its case, blue eyes locking with green. He doesn’t smile like he always does, however, and that sets off even more alarm bells in his boyfriend’s head. “Nico,” he breathes in deeply, “I didn’t think you would be back this early…”

Cut the crap. “Yeah, well I’m here. Now tell me what the hell is going on.” Nico’s voice is a lot stronger now and he folds his arms impatiently across his chest. But do I actually want to know?

The older man stands up straight now, fidgeting with the strap of the case over his shoulder. His eyes dart from the floor to the door and everywhere in between but they never seem to meet the German’s. After a moment of silent contemplation, Jenson sighs, shoulders slouching just enough to tell Nico that this really isn’t good at all. “I’m leaving.”

No shit, Sherlock. He chuckles humourlessly. “I can kinda see that! Would you like to tell me where exactly you’re going or do I have to guess?” Despite his outward bravado, Nico finds himself struggling to keep himself together more and more by the second. He tightly grabs at the material of his shirt, the action all he can to stop him from shaking.

This time Jenson doesn’t hesitate at all. There’s no point in delaying the inevitable. “It’s not about where I’m going, Nico, it’s why. I think it’s time we called it a day.”

That’s what you think. Don’t I get a say at all in the matter? The younger man shakes his head in disbelief. Okay, things hadn’t been the best between them for a couple of weeks now but this seemed a bit drastic. There’s always ways of making things work, isn’t there? But, like he had tried to avoid, his heart shatters there and then. And it hurts. It hurts more than it ever has done before… it hurts more than he ever thought it would. Because he always thought that Jenson was his true love.

“What can I say to make you stay?”

The words, weak and full of desperation, fall from his lips before he even knows what he’s saying. And he knows they’re useless anyway because once Jenson makes a decision, he sticks to it.

Jenson sends him a pitiful glance that says ‘you already know the answer to that’. “Nothing,” his voice is a lot softer now as he finds himself equally wounded, not by what he’s doing but by the clearly devastated reaction of his now former boyfriend. And Jenson has to admit that it’s sad; because there was a time when he was absolutely certain that one day Nico would be the one he called his husband but that seemed only like a fantasy now.

“Is this because of Mercedes? Because, Jense, I’m still the person I was-“

“It’s not because of Formula 1, Nico. Don’t be so naïve. That’s the thing, isn’t it? You can’t fix relationships like you can fix cars. No matter how hard you try,” Jenson says plainly with only a small bit of malice before slowly making his way over to where the younger man is standing. He hesitates for a moment, Nico unable to even look at him, before placing a soft kiss on the top of his head. His lips linger there for a prolonged moment before they’re gone and he’s gone and Nico is left feeling completely empty.

“Jenson?” he manages to get out just as the Englishman is about to close the door behind him.

“Yes?”

Nico takes a deep breath, trying his absolute hardest not to break down and cry in front of him. “You’re going to realise that this was a mistake. It might take a while, but you will. Don’t come looking for me when that happens.”

Because I won’t be here.

Chapter Text

No.

That’s all Valentino thinks as he watches it happen; the rider tumbling from the bike, being thrown out in front of Edwards, losing his helmet… He narrowly avoids a collision but Vale’s running on autopilot by that stage. He feels numb; like this is all a dream, that he’s going to wake up and it will be just another nightmare. But it isn’t.

He looks back once from the grass. Every fibre of his brain, heart and soul is telling him to stop, screaming out to turn around and make sure that he’s okay. But he can’t. It’s not allowed and even if it was, he’s pretty sure that his body wouldn’t physically let him. So Vale sees that the race is red flagged (that’s never a good sign but he tries not to dwell too much on that) and tries his hardest to just get back to the pits because the bike… well, it’s fucked.

But yours is worse.

Vale doesn’t know how he actually manages to get there. He doesn’t remember anything from the time of the crash to the point when he plants his feet back on the ground again outside the Ducati garage. It’s not until then that what has happened finally catches up with him.

“Marco.”

The name falls from his lips in almost a whisper as he is surrounded by his engineer and some of his team, all demanding, wanting to know if he’s okay. Vale feels like he’s being suffocated. They’ll all too close and making too much noise and he just wants to lose it and scream at them all to go away. But he can’t. He’s far too busy processing the incident to do anything but assure them that he’s fine and brush past them to get a good look of the tv screen.

But he’s not.

The reality of what’s actually going on hits him the moment he sees the limp figure on the track. All kinds of medical staff and stewards surround him and Valentino feels like he’s going to be physically sick.

He’s not moving an inch.

The Ducati rider knows that this isn’t good. Not good at all. He can feel it in his bones. Why aren’t you moving?!

That’s when the panic and desperation starts to kick in. He’s suddenly completely taken over by unbearable pain as his heart and stomach feel like they’re being pulled into a million pieces and then set alight. Every inch of him hurts, though he has no broken bones or bruises. Because this pain is far worse than his worst enemy could inflict physically.  Move. Please move.

“Vale,” Uccio says quietly as he places his hand on his friend’s shoulder.

Before Valentino even knows what he’s doing he shrugs it off, eyes still glued completely to the screen; searching, yearning, praying for some movement, any movement that would indicate that things aren’t as bad as they seem. It doesn’t come. He watches them move Marco onto a stretcher and load him into the ambulance and he still sees nothing to make him feel the least bit better. And the ache gets worse- so bad that he can’t tell up from down or hot from cold.

He must falter because Uccio’s arms are suddenly wrapped around him, the only thing keeping him from the floor. “Vale-“

“I need to follow him. I need to go to the hospital.”

Tears begin to trickle down Uccio’s cheeks as he supports his good friend. They’re for Marco, but mainly they’re for Valentino. “You can’t. You can’t go, Vale.”

And even in his state of disorientation, the experienced rider knows that he’s right. No-one knows of their relationship and it has to stay that way. Marco’s parents are here. His girlfriend is here. And that only adds to the agonising pain he’s feeling. It should be me there with him. I should be the one crying by his bedside and ordering the hospital staff to try their absolute hardest. I should be there to tell him I love him- that I’ve never loved anyone the way I love him. That my whole world revolves around him.

Not able to take the pain any longer, Vale frees himself of Uccio’s grasp as runs over to the bin in the corner of the room and empties the contents of his stomach into it. He can no longer tell the physical pain from the emotional. All he knows is that it’s all consuming. Vale doesn’t know whether the vomiting is because of the pure unadulterated for or his way of making the pain go away. Either way, it doesn’t matter.

The doors of the garage are now closed and Valentino continues to wretch until there is nothing more that can possibly be expelled from his stomach. When that happens, he collapses to the floor, Uccio’s arms somehow having found him again. He just lies there, limp and crying, clinging to his friend for dear life; hoping that his suspicions aren’t true as the rest of the garage look on in sad and pitiful curiosity. But they will never know the truth, know what exactly what the two Italian’s were to each other.

After what seems like a lifetime, someone gets the call. The mood in the garage instantly gets more sombre that it was, more than seemed physically possible. That someone (he doesn’t take notice of who- he can’t take notice) informs him that the hospital have just released a statement. He’s gone.

And it’s right then in that moment that Valentino’s heart breaks. Because up until then there was still hope. But hope now seems like a concept so foreign that he begins to doubt whether it actually existed in the first place; if it was just an illusion.

He continues to cry more and harder than he ever has done before. He’s a million miles past caring what anyone think or what assumptions they come to. He stays in that same position until the lights in the garage are shut off and Uccio lifts him to his feet, not letting go of his friend for a second until he’s safe in his hotel room once again.

Vale mourns for quite a while. He mourns his friend. He mourns the love he lost. He mourns the life he would have had if things had turned out differently. But none of it makes a difference. How can it make a difference when my entire reason for existence is gone? When the sun has been ripped from my sky?

The days until the funeral pass in a painful blur. Before he knows it, Vale finds himself dressed in his best suit standing in a church in his native country next to the coffin of the man he thought he might marry someday. And it never gets easier. Not seeing the coffin being carried from the church. Not seeing the coffin lowered into the ground…

For now, the pain won’t go away. But he hopes that sometime in the future it will. That there will come a time when he can remember his boyfriend with a smile rather than anguished tears and ‘what ifs’. That someday his love for his fellow rider will overpower the all-consuming loss that he feels in every inch of him.

But for now…

Ciao, Marco. Addio finché non ci incontreremo di nuovo.