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“They had to open it again.” Marc points to the crusted scar on his arm. “And then they had to get all of the titanium screws out of there and replace them.”
He registers the disgusted and shocked looks of the reporters but goes on. “Then they closed it again – or tried to – and since then it just kinda looked like this. It just looks like this, no matter what. They checked for infection, but all tests came back negative.” He halfheartedly shrugs. “However, I am fine to ride the bike. I have to watch it a bit, but I can drive unhindered.”
Most of the reporters don’t even dare to ask any questions. Only a few are brave enough – and don’t look like they might vomit every second. “Does it hurt?”
Marc shakes his head. “Nah, Nah, not really. I don’t feel it for most of the time.”
After a few more questions the press conference finally ends, and Marc goes back to where his brother stands. Silently, Alex reaches him a bottle of water and his pills, and they walk back to their trailer, while Marc takes his antibiotics on the way.
“Did you watch the new episode of the Witcher already?”, his older brother asks him after they entered the trailer and made themselves comfortable on the couch. “You really just will skip the entire topic?”, he responds. Marc holds for a second, surprised by the tone his younger brother uses, he raises an eyebrow. “Which topic?”
Alex feels the rage rising inside of him. “Which topic, do you really wanna play dumb right now? Come on Marc, that doesn't suit you.” He glares at him. “You know which topic I mean. You just lied to everybody about it.”
Marc laughs, but it sounds noticeably forced. “You don’t have to worry so much, Alex. Everything will be okay, it’s just a small infection.”
“It isn’t and we both know that. This is serious, Marc. If you continue to ride, it may get amputated. Nothing you can fix with money or operations, you’ll lose your arm, don’t you get it? Then you can never ride a bike again.”
His brother stares at him, suddenly fully honest. “I know Alex. I know that. But if I don’t ride now, I won’t get any championship points. The problem is you don’t understand. I don’t get younger, and my arm doesn’t get healthier. This is the last year in which I can realistically win my ninth title. And I’m already so close to it.”
Alex glare softens a bit. “I just worry about you. You’re my older brother, I have to.”
“Bullshit”, teases him Marc. “The older has to watch the younger, this is the way it works. I can take care of myself.”
“Can you? Would you have gone to the doctor by yourself?” Alex gives him a sharp look that basically silences him. “See? Knew it.” “This isn’t fair!”, he tries to protest. “Who is the taller brother?” “But I’m the older, that matters most!” “Sure, keep telling that yourself, gnome.” “Hey!”
A pillow hits Alex in the face. Entrusted he throws it back, aiming it at his brothers chest. The pillow fight begins. Alex is careful not to hit his arm, what sadly results in his defeat. In the end, Marc lies on his chest with all his limbs stretched out wide, making breathing a bit hard. “You’re heavy, go down fatass.”, mumbles Alex tiredly and tries to shove his brother to the ground.
Surprised, Marc actually falls down and lands on his arm. He lets a shrill scream out, which makes Alex instantly turn around. “Sorry, I didn’t wanted that”, he stutters and helps Marc back up. “No problems, it doesn’t hurt anymore”, his brother insists, but his grimacing face gives him away.