Work Text:
That morning the sky was gray, rather strange for a June 12th. The birds weren’t singing, and Tavullia was deserted. The boys from the Academy had left the evening before, leaving behind empty pizza boxes and half-finished beer bottles. Valentino had gone to bed early, well, earlier than usual, overcome by a sudden fatigue.
When he woke up, it was only 3 a.m., but he couldn’t fall back asleep. So he sat down and checked his socials, a little scroll through Instagram to look at the funny videos Bez had sent him. Out of boredom, he even went through his emails. Time seemed to pass so slowly that he ended up drifting into memories, and without knowing why, Vale thought back to Marc, and the bitter end of their relationship.
At 9 a.m., he finally decided to shake off his stupor and headed mechanically to the kitchen to turn on the coffee machine and grab a slice of bread. To distract himself from the memories that had resurfaced, he turned on the TV. It became little more than background noise, barely listened to, while he focused on his breakfast.
Until the moment when a presenter mentioned Marc’s name. At that, his attention snapped back to the screen and what was being said: “We have unfortunately received the news that Marc Márquez has passed away today following a crash during…” Valentino stopped listening. He couldn’t believe it. He didn’t want to believe it. Marc couldn’t be dead it was impossible. The news hit him like a train at full speed.
He stood in the middle of his kitchen, not understanding anything anymore where he was, what he was doing. Everything had vanished, replaced by that unbearable information, one his mind couldn’t accept. He sat down, unable to remain standing, and noticed his phone buzzing nonstop with missed calls from his brother and the other boys, who had surely also heard the news and worried about his state. But he didn’t have the strength to answer.
He just sat there, on the floor of his kitchen, unable to process the news, not knowing who to call, what to say, what to do now that Marc was gone. He didn’t know how much time had passed there on the floor, in the dark of his living room, his only link to reality the murmur of the television drowned out by pounding rain, clouds smothering every natural light.
The next thing he heard was the rattle of keys in the lock, and footsteps. He raised his head slightly and saw his brother, soaked to the bone, looking equally devastated.
“Vale… I… I’m sorry.”
Valentino didn’t answer.
He just looked at his little brother, who broke the silence: “I know you must regret a lot of things, but you can’t just stay..”
“I regret nothing,” Valentino cut him off.
“Wh… what?”
“I regret nothing. It’s just… disturbing that he’s dead. But it’s fine. I just need time.”
“I… you know, it’s okay to take your time to grieve, Vale. You don’t need to just move on like that.”
“I SAID I’M FINE, LUCA!” Valentino shouted with anger.
“Okay okay, I was just saying that for you, but if you’d rather act like everything’s fine, that’s your problem.”
“But everything is fine. That bastard is dead, sad for him, but at least he won’t ruin the sport anymore.”
Luca shot him a dark look. “You’re really sick, Vale. Saying you’re happy he’s dead just because you can’t take responsibility for what you did to him, because you couldn’t forgive him for something he never even did. Keep believing your lies if you want, but one day the truth will come out, and when that day comes, I won’t be by your side, Vale.”
At those words, Luca left the kitchen. Valentino heard his footsteps fade toward the front door before Luca shouted: “I’m going to Pecco’s keep being an asshole on your own!”
______
For three days and three nights, Vale didn’t sleep. Not a single minute. Every time he closed his eyes, Marc’s dead face appeared. Every second spent awake felt longer than the last, and his anger grew stronger, though he didn’t even know who or what it was directed at.
He started walking slower, hallucinating seeing Marc in his hallways. His image haunted him constantly, making him feel watched, judged, criticized at every step. He thought of him all the time. His mood shifted between rage and sadness, blaming Marc for everything for what he had turned him into, a nomad wandering his own house, searching for rest and peace.
Then on the fourth night, while desperately waiting for sleep, he saw him. Sitting at the edge of his bed, staring at him. He too looked angry. Valentino felt less alone.
“Stop staring at me, Marc… And fuck, why am I talking to a fucking hallucination? I’m going crazy.”
“Not as crazy as when you unleashed a whole army of media against a 22-year-old because of your own delusions, Jajaja. And besides, I’m not a hallucination I’m a ghost.”
“Yeah right, even in my hallucinations you’re a liar guess that really is your nature.”
“Sure, Valentino, believe whatever you want, I don’t care anymore… But I’d suggest you get some sleep, unless you want to join me sooner than expected.”
“If I sleep, you’ll disappear. So trust me, I want that to happen as soon as possible.”
“JAJAJA, yeah right, Valentino believe what you want. You’ll see tomorrow.”
______
When Valentino woke up, Marc wasn’t there. He smiled, though deep down he felt a strange emptiness. He hadn’t gotten the chance to say everything he wanted to, even if it was just an illusion. Insulting him would have made him feel better.
He went down to the kitchen, but as he passed the living room, he heard the TV. He wondered if he had forgotten to turn it off last night, and stepped inside. Unfortunately, he had the bad surprise of seeing Marc stretched out on the couch, half-watching an Italian series Valentino had started the night before when he couldn’t sleep.
“Heeeyyyy Valeeeeee, so? Not too disappointed to see me?” Marc asked with a grin that could rival the Cheshire Cat.
“I… what? How…?”
“I told you, I’m a ghost, not a hallucination. But since you’ve got that old man brain, I didn’t want to push it,” Marc replied condescendingly.
“Oh, you little shit, you’ll see ” Vale rushed at Marc to hit him, but his hand went right through his body. As soon as it passed through, Marc screamed.
“Uh… you okay, Marc?” Valentino asked nervously after hearing the scream of pain.
“JAJAJA, your face you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Marc smirked.
“You… you faked it? Bastard, I’ll get you exorcised, then you won’t laugh anymore.” Vale snapped angrily.
And he wasn’t joking. An hour later, he was heading to the village church to ask for an exorcism. Inside the old, history-filled building, he searched for a solution to his squatting ghost. He was warmly welcomed by a kind young woman who introduced herself as Gemma and led him to the priest.
“Hello, Father,” Valentino said, removing his cap.
“Hello, my son. What brings you here at such an hour? Mass was an hour ago I usually see you then.”
“Yes… well, I need a favor… There’s… well, I think a ghost, a spirit I don’t really know some evil creature haunting my house.”
“Oh, my poor child, that’s awful… I suppose you’d like an exorcism? I can come this afternoon if you wish.”
“That would be perfect, thank you, Father.”
______
That afternoon he welcomed the priest, who toured the house before stopping in the dining room, near the cabinet with photo frames of Valentino and Uccio since childhood.
“Hmmm, indeed you were right, my good man. Certain parts of the house are inhabited by evil spirits especially this area.”
Behind him, Valentino looked confused. Marc was still lounging on the couch in the living room, and when the priest walked past him, he didn’t even notice as if he couldn’t see him. As if Valentino was the only one cursed to see this brat.
The priest exorcised that part of the house before Valentino spoke up.
“But uh… Father… in the living room, you didn’t feel or see anything?”
“Absolutely nothing, my dear. Why?”
Vale almost told him about Marc, about seeing his ghost but then, afraid word might spread around the village, he held back.
“Oh, just curious.”
“Well, if you’re interested, you should talk to Francesca. She’s at the parish every Thursday and very knowledgeable on the subject.”
“Thank you, Father. Shall I walk you out?”
They walked toward the door, and as they passed the living room, Valentino noticed Marc was gone. Maybe the exorcism had worked after all.
After the priest left, Vale collapsed on the couch, exhausted from sleepless nights and recent events. When he lifted his head, he saw Marc was back.
“Where were you this time?” he asked, drained.
“Nowhere, why?” Marc answered with fake innocence almost convincing, if Vale didn’t know him. Suspicious, Valentino wondered what that brat had done to be in such a good mood.
He went to the dining room the room Marc had come from. At the back, he saw the photo frames the priest had blessed were gone.
“What did you do with them?” he snapped, glaring at Marc a glare that would have scared most people.
“Who says it was me? After all, I’m just a ghost I can’t touch material things.” Marc smirked.
“Oh really? So the TV turned itself on? That’s new I didn’t know it had that function.”
Marc’s smirk faltered. He sighed. “You’re really no fun, huh. Look out the window.”
Through the window, Vale saw the photo frames lying on the fresh grass.
“Go get them back, or I swear I’ll do everything to make you disappear,” he shouted furiously.
“Try me,” Marc said condescendingly before vanishing. Furious, Valentino had no choice but to pick up the frames himself and rehang them.
______
That evening, Vale lay in bed, scrolling his phone, trying to distract himself from Marc sitting at the foot of his bed.
“Do you really think you would have won a tenth title without me?” Marc asked pensively.
“Of course,” Vale replied after a break.
“Hmmm, I think if you hadn’t convinced yourself I was trying to make you lose it, you would have won. So in a way… you’re a bit right.”
“What do you mean?” Vale asked.
“Well, you know… if you hadn’t kicked me, you wouldn’t have gotten a penalty, and you might have had a chance.”
“If you had raced me like you raced everyone else, that wouldn’t have happened.”
“You know, Vale, I always raced you like everyone else… I was just angrier that day because of what you’d said because of the hurt you caused me,” Marc replied, staring into the void with a sad look.
“I… I don’t want to talk to you tonight. Or ever, really. Goodnight, Marc.” Vale muttered, unsettled, before sliding under the covers, turning his back on Marc.
“Goodnight, Valentino…” Marc said before getting up and walking through the door.
______
The next morning, Vale woke up early. The Academy boys were coming for training today. Unfortunately, the night hadn’t been restful he had nightmares of Marc, dead or dying, in every one of them. He got up and headed to the kitchen to make coffee.
But as soon as he walked in, the first thing he saw was Marc, waiting, pretending to read a book.
“Morning, Vale. Sleep well?” Marc asked.
“What the hell are you still doing here? Seriously, why don’t you leave me alone? Couldn’t you haunt people who actually loved you like your brother, or another rider like… Dovi or Quartararo?”
“Oh, come on stop acting like you don’t enjoy it!”
“You really think I enjoy being haunted by the ghost of an ex-rival who stole my tenth championship? Really, Marc?”
“Eh, first of all, stop blaming me. The only reason I’m here is because of you.” Marc snapped.
“What do you mean?” Vale asked, confused.
“You really think I chose to haunt you? That I like being here? Absolutely not. I didn’t have a choice. I was forced to come here.” Marc said more calmly.
“But why?” Vale asked.
“Ah, that’s for you to figure out. I’m not telling you everything.” Marc grinned mischievously.
“Brat.”
______
Hours later, the Academy riders were gathered after training, sitting in a circle around the barbecue. One of them finally brought up Marc’s death.
“Are you okay, Vale? Since Marc died, you’ve been quieter. We get it you two had a… special relationship, and since you never really made peace, you must have regrets…” Bezz said softly, nervously fiddling with his hands, afraid to touch such a sensitive subject.
“I’m perfectly fine, Marco. Thank you. But I don’t think I have anything to regret.” Vale answered coldly before walking off to the kitchen, irritated.
“Nothing to regret? Really, Vale?” Marc said, amused.
“If you hadn’t done what you did, I wouldn’t have held it against you. So yes.”
“Well, that’s the problem I didn’t do it. I didn’t race you harder than the others. You were just paranoid. And with Uccio feeding your delusions, you weren’t exactly helped,” Marc retorted harshly.
“What does Uccio have to do with this? I know you don’t like him, but don’t blame him for your shit.” Vale shot back.
“Oh, I was just saying. But maybe you should be careful with him. He’s a liar too. And yeah, you’re right I don’t like him, and he doesn’t like me. That’s probably why he faked telemetry data to convince you I was against you…” Marc said before disappearing.
Alone in the kitchen, Vale wondered if what Marc had said was true. All his hatred toward Marc was based on that data he didn’t even want to imagine it was fake. Could he really have been that wrong?
______
Days passed since that discussion. Marc still hung around the house, mostly ignored. But Valentino was increasingly plagued with doubt. Eventually, he decided to confront Uccio. He went to his apartment with a pack of beer.
They chatted for an hour, about everything and nothing, until Vale finally asked what was weighing on him.
“I… I wanted to ask you something, man. Someone told me recently… that the telemetry data from Marc in 2015 was fake. Is that true, or just rumors?” Vale asked, embarrassed to accuse his best friend, but desperate for the truth.
Uccio’s reaction gave him away. He turned a little red, avoiding Vale’s gaze.
“Who told you that, Vale?” he replied.
“Just answer my question.”
“Well… it was only to protect you, Vale, you kn..”
“So it’s true. You really did it, Uccio? You really lied to me like that? I thought you were my friend!”
“I am your friend, Vale. That’s why I did it to protect you from him. He’s dangerous ,he was going to betray you anyway, I’m sure of it. I had to keep you away from him before..”
“I don’t want to hear your excuses, Uccio. I’m leaving. I never thought my best friend would betray me like this. I can’t believe you actually did that.”
Valentino didn’t give him time to reply he slammed the door and left. When he got home, Marc was lying on his bed, pretending to read.
“What are you doing, Marc?”
Marc rolled over, smiling faintly.
“Not important… So, did you finally talk to Uccio? What did he say?” he asked smugly.
Vale didn’t answer. Instead, he stared at the floor, avoiding Marc’s knowing eyes.
Then suddenly, Marc laughed loud and hard making Vale look up.
“Admit I was right, Valeeeeee,” Marc teased.
“No.”
“Come oooon.”
“I said no! Leave me alone, Marc!” Vale snapped, storming into the kitchen, turning on the TV.
He saw Marc pass through the bedroom door and follow him.
“You’re really no fun, Vale. But now that you know the truth, maybe you can finally start the process to let me go.”
“What process, Marc?”
At that, Marc covered his mouth, as if he’d slipped up, then said before vanishing again:
“Oops, said too much.”
______
For days, Vale racked his brain over how to get rid of Marc. He thought of everything hiring an online witch, using salt, invoking entities to banish Marc. But every idea was worse than the last. Then he remembered what the priest had told him about Francesca. Maybe she could help.
On Thursday afternoon, he went to the parish to find her. He finally found a young woman sitting at a desk, reading.
“Hello, excuse me, I’m looking for someone named Francesca,” he said softly.
“Yes, that’s me. You’re the man with the ghost, the priest told me about you, right?” she smiled.
“Uh… yes, that’s me.”
“Well then, tell me more who is haunting you?”
For over an hour, Valentino explained everything: who Marc was to the world, but also to him, what had happened between them, and especially what Marc had told him. Francesca listened carefully, occasionally jotting notes with a concerned look.
“I… I only know of one similar case. It took them years to fix everything.”
Vale’s face went pale. He didn’t want to be stuck with Márquez for years… but maybe he had no choice.
“And… how did they fix it?”
“They forgave each other.”
“Excuse me? Are you kidding me? You’re telling me the only way to get rid of him is to apologize? And for what? I have nothing to apologize for. He should be the one apologizing!” Vale snapped angrily.
Francesca had kept a serious expression throughout his tirade, then added.
“You know, I’m simply here to offer you a possible solution. If you don’t want to do it, that’s not my problem, but I hope you’re ready to live together for the rest of your days.” With that, she left, slamming the door.
______
Vale slumped on the couch, unsure of where Marc was in the house. He reflected on everything that had happened between him and Marc over the years, but also on what Francesca had said. He began an internal monologue, wondering if he really had things to regret, replaying all his interactions with Marc, as well as the ones he hadn’t had the moments when he had left Marc alone with the media after his statements, and other similar moments.
He finally decided to call his brother for advice. He had initially thought about calling a friend to ask if he thought Vale should apologize to Marc, but at the last minute, he felt it would be better to call his brother, who always gave incredible advice especially after the last conversation he had with uccio.
“Hello, Vale, how are you?”
“Answer me seriously…do you think I should apologize to Marc?”
“I… yes? But… Vale, come on, he’s dead. I know you must feel guilty, but it’s not really possible anymore.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll find a way.”
“Huh… what? Vale, don’t do anything stupid,” his brother replied, worried.
“Don’t worry,” Valentino said before hanging up.
After that, he set out to find Marc in the house, searching every room for his new housemate. He looked everywhere from the kitchen to the bedroom, even the attic ,but couldn’t find him. Then he remembered that the last time Marc had been at the ranch, before everything went wrong, he had shown Marc the garage. So he went there and found Marc staring at his motorcycles.
“Marc…” Valentino began.
“What do you want?”
“Talk… I want… I want to apologize for everything that’s happened between us these past years, for everything I’ve done to you. I know I didn’t react the right way. I accused you of things you didn’t do. I hated you… when I should have tried to understand. I chose grudges over truth. I let myself be blinded, and I destroyed you with me. And for that… I’m sorry.”
“You know, apologies don’t fix everything,” Marc replied, his dark eyes shining with a strange, almost wet light. “Especially after all these years.”
“I know… but it’s something that needed to be done, and even if it doesn’t make you disappear, I’m glad I did it,” Valentino said seriously.
“Well then… I forgive you.”
“R… really?” Valentino asked, surprised by Marc’s response.
“I always said I’d forgive you if you made the first move… but if you want to be sure, I’ll totally forgive you if you beat me in a race.”
“You… you can even ride as a ghost?” Valentino asked, shocked.
“Of course! Otherwise it would be torture,” Marc replied, offended.
“Well, let’s do a race and if I win, you forgive me,” Valentino said.
“Sure, let’s do it,” Marc agreed.
And then, for a good twenty minutes, they rode together, battling through the corners. Sometimes Marc was ahead, other times it was Valentino. Just after crossing the finish line, Valentino turned his head and saw Marc’s bike on the ground. At first, he thought Marc had fallen and rushed over to help him.
But when he got close to the bike, he saw no sign that Marc had fallen and then he realized that Marc had disappeared. At that moment, a feeling of unease washed over him, and his head began to spin.
_____
Valentino woke up with a headache. It was 7 a.m. He picked up his phone, which was lying on his stomach, and figured he must have fallen asleep with it. Then he remembered what had happened on the track. He opened his phone and saw the date June 12th.
He hurried to check social media, searching for any information about Marc’s death, but there was nothing. Everything had been in his head. He quickly realized it had all been a dream, spending several minutes wondering if he had gone insane.
Yet he still felt lost. He was certain his feelings for Marc had changed because of that dream and now wondered how he could approach him without looking strange.
But his thoughts were interrupted by a notification on his phone:
Instagram: marcmarquez93 started following you
The End