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They had been together for years now, a solid duo both on and off the track, navigating through the chaos of racing and their personal lives. But this season felt different. With new teammates at both RB and Alpine, the pressure was on. The entire team dynamic had shifted, and the workload was more demanding than ever. Both were adjusting, both had to focus more on their individual roles.
Yuki, ever the team player, knew the importance of staying in touch, whether it was for support or just to share a moment of normalcy. But lately, his texts to Pierre had been left on "delivered" for hours, sometimes even days. Yuki didn't expect constant responses, but the silence was different this time. It wasn’t just the notifications getting ignored; it was him. He felt the shift, the distance growing between them.
At first, he brushed it off. It was a busy time, after all. Pierre had a lot on his plate, with the new teammate and all the adjustments that came with it. But as the days went by, the texts piled up: “How are you?” “I miss you.” “Are you free this weekend? ” No replies. Not even a simple thumbs up.
One late evening, after finishing a long day of testing, Yuki sat in the hotel room, his phone in hand. It was the same story again. His text had been read, but no reply. He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated, and hit the send button one last time:
"I know you're busy, but this is starting to feel different. Talk to me when you can."
He stared at the message for a while, unsure if he’d even get a reply.
His phone still in his hand, screen dimming to black. He hadn’t expected a response tonight—maybe not even tomorrow.
It was past midnight. But then there was a knock at the door.
Yuki didn’t move at first, just stared at the door as if it wasn’t real. Then, slowly, he got up and pulled it open.
Pierre stood there, hands in his jacket pockets, looking tired, looking unsure. He had that guilty look Yuki had seen before—the one he always wore when he realized, too late, that he had hurt him.
“…I’m sorry,” Pierre said, voice barely above a whisper.
Yuki didn’t answer. He stepped back, letting Pierre in, but even as the door closed behind them, the silence stayed. Pierre stood in the middle of the room, like he didn’t know what to do, like he didn’t know how to fix this.
Yuki sat back on the bed, staring at the floor, jaw clenched. He had been waiting. He had been waiting so long.
“…He’s gonna replace me, isn’t he?”
Pierre froze. “…What?”
Yuki lifted his head just slightly, his eyes unreadable. “I saw you two smiling at each other,” he said quietly.
Pierre frowned, confused. “Yuki—”
“More than you needed to,” Yuki cut him off, his voice sharp but unsteady. His hands curled into fists. “Just like how you did with me.”
Realization flickered across Pierre’s face, but he stayed silent.
Yuki let out a small, bitter laugh. “You got along with me because I was a rookie,” he muttered, eyes flickering away. “You said it yourself.
Pierre inhaled sharply, his heart sinking. It took him a second too long to understand.
Yuki was talking about his new teammate.
He knew Pierre. He knew how easily Pierre connected with people, how charming he was, how he made people feel special. It was one of the things Yuki had loved about him—until he wasn’t the one Pierre was making feel special anymore.
Pierre took a slow step closer, trying to read Yuki’s face, but Yuki wasn’t looking at him anymore. His shoulders were tense, his whole body stiff like he was bracing for an answer he already knew.
“…That’s not true,” Pierre said, his voice soft.
Yuki let out a small laugh—cold, humorless. “Oh, really?”
Pierre clenched his jaw. “I chose you, Yuki.”
Yuki shook his head. “Then why am I always the one waiting?”
Pierre exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve been busy,” he said, almost defensively.
“Oh, fuck your busy,” Yuki snapped, his voice rising. “You think you’re the only one busy, Pierre?” His chest was heaving, anger bubbling to the surface after weeks of silence, of being pushed aside like an afterthought. “Just say it to my face if you don’t want this anymore.”
Pierre’s breath caught in his throat. He stared at Yuki, his mind scrambling for the right words, but nothing came.
Because that wasn’t what he wanted.
Yuki scoffed, shaking his head. “See? You can’t even say it.” His voice was quieter now, but the hurt in it cut deep. “You just leave me waiting instead.”
At first, he had just been annoyed—annoyed that Pierre kept ghosting him, that his texts were left on delivered for days. But then he saw Pierre earlier today, laughing, smiling like nothing had happened. Like Yuki hadn’t been waiting, like Yuki hadn’t mattered.
And that was when the frustration turned into something else. Something heavier. His emotions were everywhere, crashing into each other like a storm he couldn’t control.
Pierre squeezed his eyes shut for a second, trying to keep it together, but something cracked inside him. His shoulders dropped, and he finally let out a breath he’d been holding for too long. “I’m under so much pressure, Yuki,” he admitted, his voice raw. “This season is different. If I don’t prove myself now, I’m out.”
Yuki’s expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes softened.
Pierre swallowed hard, running a shaky hand down his face. “I’ve been so fucking stressed, and I didn’t want to put that on you. I didn’t want you to worry about me when you already have your own career, your own problems.” His voice broke slightly. “So I pushed it away. I pushed you away.”
Yuki was silent.
Pierre let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “And I fucked it up, didn’t I?”
Yuki sighed, looking away, his fingers gripping the sheets beneath him. He was angry—he had been angry—but now, there was something else, too. Something deeper.
He had spent so long thinking Pierre didn’t care anymore, that he was just moving on without him. But now, hearing all this, he wasn’t sure what to feel.
After a long moment, he finally spoke, his voice quieter than before.
“…You should’ve told me.”
Pierre lifted his head.
“You don’t get to decide what I worry about,” Yuki murmured, still not looking at him. “You don’t get to push me away just because you think it’s for the best.”
Pierre swallowed hard. He knew Yuki was right.
Yuki finally looked up, his expression unreadable. “Do you still want this?”
Pierre didn’t hesitate this time. “Yes.”
Yuki searched his face for a moment, and whatever he found there must have been enough. He let out a quiet breath, then shifted on the bed, making space.
“…Then sit down.”
Pierre blinked. “What?”
Yuki sighed, rolling his eyes. “Just sit down.”
Pierre hesitated, then moved to sit beside him. They didn’t speak, but the silence felt different now. Less empty. Less heavy.
Without thinking much about it, Yuki leaned into Pierre, resting his head on his shoulder. His body relaxed slightly against him, the warmth familiar, comforting.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t mean everything I said. I was just mad.”
Pierre let out a soft chuckle, his hand resting lightly on Yuki’s knee. “I know.”
They sat like that for a moment, the silence between them no longer suffocating. It was just them again.
Then Pierre smirked a little. “You jealous?” he asked, a teasing lilt in his voice.
Yuki tensed slightly but didn’t answer. He didn’t want to answer. He wasn’t going to admit it.
Pierre grinned, leaning in just a little. “Don’t be.” His voice was quieter now, softer. “There’s only you.”
Yuki still didn’t say anything, but his grip on Pierre’s sleeve tightened just slightly.
Pierre smiled, reaching up to brush Yuki’s hair back gently. “No rookie can beat your menace.” His fingers trailed lightly along Yuki’s cheek. “And no rookie can make me fall off my heel.”
Yuki groaned, burying his face in Pierre’s forearm to hide his expression. “Shut up.”
Pierre chuckled, dipping his head slightly as he breathed in the familiar scent of Yuki’s hair. The faintest trace of home—comforting, grounding.
“It’s true,” Pierre murmured against him. “You’re my only one. My Yukino .”