Chapter Text
A tyre slipping on tarmac, a bike bucking, another rider hitting him, scrapped leathers, a hit of the helmet on the asphalt and Joan found himself deep into a gravel trap again.
His elbow had clipped the small dip between the run off area and the gravel trap, the hit had sent a sharp sting up his left arm, leaving it numb as he laid in the gravel for a few seconds, trying to catch his breath. He stayed still on his side for a few seconds, tired, before sitting up.
The bike groaned a bit farther away, almost similar to a whimper of pain before death, bits of the red fairing spread across the small rocks, looking like blood splattered everywhere. He wanted to yell bloody murder at the other rider, but he couldn’t even muster up the energy to do that, trying to get up to his feet again was already draining enough.
The marshals ran towards him just as he pushed himself up from the ground, three of them dragged the bike behind the safety barrier as another one went up to Joan, helping him up to his feet and asking him if he was okay. He just nodded and gave them a quick thumbs up, his hand going back to cradling his left arm after, hoping they’d leave him alone quickly. He didn’t acknowledge Ogura past an annoyed grumble, the rookie tried to apologize for having run into him.
He was numb the whole scooter ride to the paddock, numb during his visit to the medical center, only wincing when they rubbed disinfectant on his injury and applied the medical plaster. He completely dissociated through the debrief with his team and the post race interviews, saying the same things over and over again, simply going through the motions, if he was asked to repeat whatever he said, he wouldn’t be able to do so, the words falling out of his mouth didn’t even register to him.
He was exhausted.
It was always the same; get on the bike, race.
Crash or get crashed into.
Or finish in pointless positions.
Justify your existence to a room of journalists you’ll never remember the faces and names of.
Rinse.
Repeat.
What did he even want to achieve ? He had won a race, a championship, more than some could ever achieve in their entire existence, some people’s lifelong dream.
What else could he do ? Win again ? Be the most successful ? He felt like he had already stolen some riders' dream in 2020 when he won, he wouldn’t and couldn’t take that away from Marc, the Spaniard looked set on winning the most races and championships out of everyone in the premiere class.
Joan closed the door of his motorhome behind him, letting out a shaky sigh. He felt like someone had been strangling him all day, his throat feeling tight and scratchy. He quickly kicked off his shoes and went to sprawl on the uncomfortable tiny couch in the corner of his room. He was too exhausted to set his bed up and he felt like he deserved the sore back for his pitiful performance.
He felt cold, a sharp shiver running up his back and arms, he curled up on himself, crossing his arms as a sort of self hug for comfort and pressed his forehead on the couch’s back cushions.
The Spaniard tried to take a nap, but his head was pounding, a migraine had settled in his brain, tiny needles pricking at his neurons, his eyes burned when he closed his eyelids, he felt feverish. This was so frustrating, he couldn’t even have a second of peace with his own body before it decided to fuck him over. He just wanted some rest.
He groaned when he heard a soft knock on the door, Joan didn’t want to move, he simply sniffed and blinked away his watery eyes, he was too exhausted to even cry properly. Another knock broke the silence, followed by a soft, “Joan ? Can I come in ?” An Italian accent curling around his name. “It's open.” Joan mumbled, Luca could enter his room if he wanted, Joan wasn’t going to move from the couch.
Joan had his back turned to the door, so he only heard the little click of the door opening and the gentle thud sound when Luca closed it behind him, his footsteps grew louder as he approached the couch.
“Hey” Luca greeted, his voice low as he sat on the floor next to the couch, crossing his arms and resting them on the armrest next to Joan’s head “Did I wake you up ?” The Italian asked. “No, couldn't sleep anyway” Joan grumbled, shifting with a small wince to lay on his back and turn his head toward Luca’s. The Italian’s piercing blue eyes greeted him, Luca always managed to calm him down, his erratic and painful thoughts instead zeroing on his blond teammate.
It made Joan’s heart a bit warmer that his teammate still took time to check up on him after a race. They stared at each other for a few seconds, the silence comfortable, Joan tried to smile at him, but he was so tired he only managed a half smirk, Luca smiled back, his eyes crinkled at the sides, blue eyes sparkling and beautiful.
Luca uncrossed his arms to free one of his hands to push the hair out of Joan’s forehead, the Spaniard let him. Joan closed his eyes to enjoy the contact of Luca’s cold fingers against his overheated forehead. “Are you okay ? You’re burning up and pale.” Luca asked as he pressed the back of his hand against the Spaniard's forehead.
Joan raised his left arm, showing the bandage on his elbow. “It’s just my arm, hurts.” He mumbled, a half lie, his arm did sting but the exhaustion had settled way before that, he’s been feeling tired for years, nevertheless, he didn’t want to cause unnecessary concern to Luca, a little white lie never hurt anyone. Luca simply hummed in acknowledgement, dropping his head back on the arm rest, his hand dropping on the pillow next to Joan’s head.
Both men stayed still for a few seconds before Luca stood up. Joan watched him walk up and rummage through the little closet next to the folded up bed, taking out a white blanket with a little red Honda logo stitched on a corner.
“What are you doing?” Joan asked. “Hm ? Well you said you couldn’t sleep, so I thought a blanket could help and maybe… Maybe we could watch a show together, it might bore you enough that you fall asleep.” Luca chuckled with a sheepish smile as he turned back to the Spaniard with a shrug. Joan could see Luca’s fingers were playing nervously with one of the corners. The Italian held the blanket towards Joan, a little blush on his cheeks. “So ?”
The Italian seemed so happy to spend time with Joan. The Mallorcan knew Luca could have anyone he’d ever wanted to watch a show with, a cute smile and a bat of his lashes and everyone would fall for his charm. It made him feel a bit better. He sat slowly up and took the blanket Luca handed him. “Yeah, I’m down.”
Luca gave him a bigger grin as he strolled over to his small backpack he had left by the door. Joan hadn’t heard him drop it to the ground when he entered. The Spaniard unfolded the blanket and draped it across his lap.
Joan suddenly realized he hadn’t asked Luca how he did in the race, he mentally cursed himself for being so selfish, Luca kept giving him his attention when Joan didn’t give half of his own back. “Where.. Where did you finish ? In the race I mean.” Joan tried, the question feeling a bit rehearsed and fake on his tongue.
Luca took out a tablet from his small backpack, turning it on and quickly typing something on it before bringing the small table closer to the couch and setting the screen upright on it. “It doesn't really matter.” He shrugged as he launched whatever episode of his favorite show on the screen. “Come on scoot over.” The Italian grinned at him, sitting on the couch as Joan bent his legs to leave some space for the other man.
“Lucaaa” He complained, Joan wanted Luca to tell him things, even if it didn’t matter, he needed their conversation to keep going. He was scared that, if they settled in silence again, his thoughts would come to eat at him. Luca’s smile twitched before he let out a little sigh, looking away from Joan. “P6, I finished P6.” He tried to say non-chalantly, adding a little shrug to the answer, Joan perked up quickly at that. “Luca ! That's your best result with the team, you should be out celebrating !” Guilt flooded through him, his socked feet found Luca’s flank, he wanted to push him off the couch and urge him to go join the team.
“Joan.” Luca gave him a look, his hand gently held the other man’s ankle. A pleasant warmth spread under Joan's skin where the tips of Luca’s fingers brushed the sliver of exposed skin between his sock and pants. “I won’t be able to celebrate properly until you feel better, I’d be too worried to enjoy the party.” The Italian gave him a soft smile, knowing exactly what he was doing, using the other man’s guilt against him. Joan groaned as he let himself fall back on the cushion. “Ok, ok” Joan relented as Luca chuckled. “Yes, now pay attention, it’s a good episode !” The Italian said, pulling Joan’s legs so they were unfolded and resting on his lap.
The Mallorcan shifted to be more comfortable on the couch, pulling the blanket up to his chin as Luca properly spread it across his lap and Joan’s legs. Joan did feel a bit more calm, the numbness and coldness going away as he warmed up under the cover and Luca’s attention.
The Spaniard breathed in deeply, trying to actually relax some more. He felt too guilty to enjoy the moment and he felt guilty to feel guilty about enjoying the moment. What a mess. He thought as he flickered his gaze from Luca's face, the Italian had a soft smile pulling at his lips, down to the hand the Italian rested on the Spaniard's leg above the cover, a small comforting weight.
He turned his attention back to the tablet screen Luca had set up for them, and tried to finally pay attention to the cartoon going on. It seemed to be in the middle of a storyline, something about some elastic guy fighting a blue dragon ? Luca seemed obsessed with it, he had already caught him a few times watching it between sessions on the Sunday because a new episode had come out in the night just before.
He had laughed when the Italian mentioned he was one thousand episodes in, thinking it was a joke. When he mentioned not wanting to start watching long shows because he’d thought he’d be gone before seeing the end, Luca had given him a pained look.
The same look the therapist had given him when he was an anxious teen. She had just chalked it up to teen hormones mixed with attention seeking and told him to suck it up. That it would get better as he got older. It didn’t.
Ah there it was, the moments his thoughts ate at him when the silence took over. He felt like he was too far from Luca, like they were kilometers apart, so he removed his legs from the Italian’s legs and sat up, the blanket polled in his lap.
Luca perked up at his sudden movement, a kind gaze searched Joan’s face. “Are you feeling better ?” He asked, hopeful. “Ehh” Joan complained, looking away from the blue stare, feeling bad for disappointing his teammate. He shifted on the couch and laid back down, this time pillowing his head on Luca’s lap, like a clingy girlfriend. The warm body under his cheek comforted him.
The Italian froze under him, and Joan felt his heart sink for a second, had he misread everything ? Would Luca push him away ? But before the Mallorcan could overthink some more, Luca properly pulled the blanket back over Joan’s shoulders and let his hand hesitantly comb through the Spaniard's dark hair.
They both didn’t say anything, they didn’t need to. Luca simply just scratched Joan’s scalp, like you would do if you had a cat in your lap, his fingers caressing the skin behind his ear and on his neck every now and then. The Mallorcan let his eyelids close, his thoughts quietening as he only focused on Luca’s touch.
He was fast asleep a few seconds later.
A phone ringing woke him up, the offending little tune he had chosen for whenever his personal trainer called him graced his ears. Joan buried his face in the warm pillow under his head, groggily opening his eyes. He groaned, his entire body slightly hurting from the crash and still half asleep from the impromptu nap.
He answered the phone with a groan and bit his lip to prevent himself from yawning as his trainer mumbled something about his flight getting delayed or something. Good, it meant he could sleep some more before having to go face the outside world again. He just hummed in acknowledgement when his brain caught up with the words and hung up.
His motorhome was darker than usual for an afternoon in July, the curtains were pulled to dim and filter the sunlight coming through. Luca was gone, probably off with the team or the academy. Joan let his head fall back down the little pillow, it smelled familiar and warm, like Luca, exactly like Luca actually.
He raised his head again, looking at the pillow under his head, which actually wasn’t a pillow, it was none other than Luca’s hoodie, neatly folded. Luca could’ve taken any pillow in the room but he didn’t, he must've sensed how much Joan needed the warm comfort of another human being. Joan sighed, his heart warming up a bit as he nuzzled the clothing again. He would give Luca his hoodie next time they saw each other.
Joan hopes the race next week in Czechia will be better.