Chapter Text
May 1 1994. Imola...
Ayrton Senna crashed really badly and went into a coma and never woke up again.... Well at least for the living...
Everything was spinning, shacking. Everything was so loud, so painful... It felt like an earthquake of magnitude 7. Ayrton woke up. It was like slowly coming out from water after thinking that he would drown for so long...
Everything was so bright. He couldn't see but he heard the bipping sound machines made. There was someone crying by his side but he couldn't recognise them. He heard them crying and calling out his name but everything was so loud. He couldn't understand properly.
Then a tired voice with a thick Austrian accent came afar.
"Alain... They need to take him now... It's too late."
It was Niki Lauda. Ayrton recognised his voice immediately after all not recognising his accent was more like impossible. Niki gently cupped the person's shoulder. The person slowly lifted his head at that point Ayrton recognised him.
"Alain?" Ayrton asked.
But Alain didn't look at him. He slowly stood up and started following Niki. Ayrton's feet moved without his consent and started following Alain. He tried to talk and understand what was happening but either Niki or Alain answered. Ayrton started getting frustrated. He tried to leave and found someone else but he couldn't get so far away from Alain, only a few meters. He was puzzled. What was happening?
He finally understood when he saw his own body being taken. Ayrton realised that he was actually flying instead of standing. Alain fell down onto his knees. Niki did his best to comfort him but nothing worked...
Now he was standing beside Alain at his own funeral. It was awkward as fuck. Alain was a mess. He was stumbling while walking. He was dizzy and starving but he didn't have any appetite. He wanted to bury himself with Ayrton. But he was still standing strong. After all, it was the only thing he could do right now.
Micheal was blaming himself for some reason. Ayrton didn't understand why. Alain comforted him. Micheal was still crying but at least he wasn't blaming himself now. Alain gently hugged him and started telling him that there was nothing he could do anyway.
"You are the one who needs those sweet nothings now. You dumbass..." Ayrton muttered.
Of course Alain didn't hear him...
Alain came home. Throw himself on to bed and didn't move for too long, Ayrton thought that he had died. Then he heard a sop... Alain couldn't control himself anymore. Ayrton felt like Alain's tears were drowning him. He tried to wipe his tears away but failed. Alain was screaming, calling out Ayrton's name and cursing Willams for not listening to him but it was too late... Ayrton sat beside him.
"I'm here, Alain. It's just that you can't see me, but I'm here... Come on, you will be fine. You hated my ass anyway... Come on, Alain... Pull yourself together... Please..." Ayrton's voice cracked at the last part. God... He had never in his life wanted someone to hear or see him this much until now.
Alain cried for weeks whenever he was alone, well more like he thought he was alone. Ayrton mocked him about crying over his rival at first. But after a while the only thing he wanted to do was to tell Alain that he was here and he never left...
Damn reporters kept asking Alain about him. He wanted to scream at them to stop but they wouldn't hear him anyway. Alain felt like drowning but he answered all the questions honestly anyway. He was talking about Ayrton as if He was the greatest thing ever happened to him. Ayrton didn't know he was this important to Alain. They would fight constantly so he assumed that Alain was sick of him... But god... He was wrong... He was so damn wrong.
"What was it like your relationship with Ayrton Senna?"
Alain stayed quiet for a second
"He would call me every day even if it was winter... Even after I retired, he kept calling. So I guess you could say he was a friend.... He would wait for me to come and eat something. He wouldn't eat without me for some reason... He would wait and I would come and take him to lunch or dinner whatever... He was always there... Even after all those years you can't talk about Alain Prost without mentioning Ayrton Senna and you can't talk about Ayrton Senna without talking about Alain Prost... So he's a part of my life and my career... We are practically inseparable"
Ayrton was stunned. He never realised how much they were in each other's life, how important and valuable they were for each other... Something shifted inside him. He felt a strange warmth in his heart...
He got used to being stuck with Alain easily but he could never get rid of the urge of hugging him tightly... He wanted to tell Alain how important he was to him... He prayed to the god to be able to touch him again just for once and tell him that he was there for him no matter what.
Alain's sadness did not decrease but he started getting used to...
Ayrton followed and watched Alain for over 30 years. He learned every small thing about him. The way Alain hummed while doing something, the way Alain wrinkles their nose while thinking something serious, the way he seemed hollow whenever he saw or heard anything about Ayrton... He watched all his happiness and sadness. He was always by his side no matter what happened... Alain would talk to him sometimes thinking he wouldn't hear him anyway. But Ayrton answered everytime...
One day Alain got really sick, it wasn't something like cold. He was hardly breathing and he couldn't even open his eyes properly. He stood up and tried to reach the phone... He just collapsed onto the floor and stopped moving. Ayrton panicked. He wanted to do something so badly but his hands went through Alain's chest instead. All he could do was sit there and watch. Then Ayrton felt so sleepy for some reason. He was a ghost so why was he feeling so tired all of a sudden? He fell asleep.
For some reason it was so bright again. Just like the day he woke up in the hospital. But there was something else: the ear shattering, monstrous engine sound of an old f1 car... He felt the steering wheel in his hands. He could touch it... It felt unreal. He could touch things again. He could stand and sit. He didn't have to fly against his own will... He was driving a fucking f1 car. It was real, everything was so damn real and beautiful that he wanted to scream with joy. He turned the corner and won the race. Everything was real.
Other drivers finished and started getting out of their cars. Then he saw him. The Frenchman he followed over 30 years... Ayrton jumped out of the car, pushed everyone before him and reached Alain. There he was... The gorgeous and intelligent Frenchman...
Ayrton jumped on him and pulled him into a deep, long waited kiss.
Alain was stunned. Everyone around them stopped and looked at them. Flashes popped, people whispered, some laughed and some left but Ayrton ignored all of them. He just hugged Alain tightly and buried his face in Alain's neck. He smelled like cloves and red wine... He could touch Alain... He finally could... He finally found peace...
Alain was so shocked that he couldn't say anything but when he realised Ayrton crying silently on his shoulder, He chose not to question and patted Ayrton on the back.
Ayrton didn't leave his side during the whole press conference; he was practically glued to him. He ignored the questions and didn't answered anything just buried his nose in Alain's chest.