Chapter Text
Of course, Marc had always known about the red string; the media was full of it. It was inescapable. You first found out when you were young, through stories about soulmates and happy endings. In school, it was all people talked about, from regurgitating love stories told through generations to gossiping about the first girl or boy in the class to see their red string. Everyone that Marc knew was obsessed with the concept. But no one ever spoke about the other side, about what happened when soulmates didn't work out, and hearts were broken. It was more taboo than the idea of dying and a worse fate in many people's eyes. So most of the world continued on their merry way, actively ignoring those few failed cases where soulmates simply did not work. For it was easier to avoid it than to sit with the knowledge that it could happen to anyone.
Marc never paid too much attention to the gossip and the love songs, too interested in riding to care about love. Yet, despite this, he had always secretly harboured the hope that there was someone out there made for him. A soulmate who would love him unconditionally, no matter what happened on the track. It only became more important when he was practically blacklisted by the grid in the aftermath of 2015. He dreamt of a soulmate who would love him no matter what happened between him and his idol-turned-enemy. He imagined the day when the universe would take pity on him and reveal his fate to him, binding him to his future in the form of a piece of red string wrapped around his little finger. In his imagination, it was a future where he belonged, a future where he was wanted and respected, with someone who adored him without asking him to change who he was. It was easy to let himself get caught in daydreams on the days when things became particularly bad.
Marc knew he could be a lot of things: stubborn, overly competitive, and willing to do anything for the win. He was forever chasing his dreams, racing to be the best and nothing else. But there was someone out there for him, who would love him despite all of his flaws, and he would love them too. It was a soothing balm to the stinging pain of the catastrophe that the past few years had been. It provided relief to the humiliating burn of his idol turning his back in front of millions of people. There was someone out there who would love Marc no matter what, and there were days that the knowledge was all he could cling to.
Except, it didn't quite go to plan.
Marc manifested his red string in early 2018. He was sitting in a press conference, listening half heartily, only really paying attention when he was asked a question or when he heard the familiar Italian accent at the other end of the table. The one that equally sent sparks racing down his spine and formed a ball of lead which sank in his stomach. Marc didn't know what triggered the bond to manifest; no one ever really did. One moment, he was chuckling at Valentino's answer; the next, he was looking down at his hand, where the soft red thread was knotted in a neat bow on his little finger, secure and permanent. There was something else, too, like something anchored to his soul, an extra sensation that wasn't there before.
His forever.
Marc spent the rest of the press conference staring at his hands in shock, trying to piece together the fact that this was it, the moment he had waited for since it had all gone wrong in the paddock. With the collapse of his respect in the place that was meant to be his second home, Marc found himself yearning instead for someone who could fit into his life without any pretence. This was it.
The string was red, perhaps slightly duller than he had imagined, but he could write it off as the bond being undeveloped, perhaps. The string was thin, delicate, and unnoticeable where it was tied around his finger, invisible to everyone but himself. Marc carefully, deliberately placed his hands under the press conference table and subtly tugged on the string, waiting to feel the pull in response from the other end of the bond. But there was no feedback, no tug in return, and no one on the other end. It was not exactly an uncommon phenomenon for one end of the soulmate pair to manifest the visual representation of their bond before the other, but it was never easy. Marc felt slightly lost at the idea of his tether not having an anchor on the other side, leaving Marc floating alone. He sat with the discomfort, reminding himself that one side of the bond almost always manifested before the other. This was not something to panic about, he thought, trying desperately to soothe the cruel voices which began to rear their ugly heads.
At the end of their allotted press time, he was still consumed by his thoughts, filling his head with doubts and questions which he did not have the answers to. Marc did not make a move as it wound down, too busy staring at the red material wrapped around his finger to notice the scraping of chairs on the floor as people around him stood up. He felt empty and confused; this wasn't how he imagined it going. He didn't take his eyes off the string for more than half a second, wondering how long he would have to wait for a response from the other side of the bond. In the end, the others must have become impatient at his inattention. Dovi elbowed him out of his trance, eyebrows raised in question. Marc offered him a smile that felt hollow, and slowly made a move, keeping his eyes downwards. He refused to interact with the others, uncaring of how rude he may look. There were too many other things to consider.
Marc was forced to rip his eyes away from his new red string, if only to prevent making a further fool of himself by tripping on the way out. It was a short-lived hope, because when Marc finally looked up, he still managed to stumble in shock, tripping over thin air, and only saved by Dovi's firm hand on his arm. Marc was not paying attention to that, though, because the string did not stretch far, not far at all. He followed the red material wrapped around his pinkie finger, leading him straight to the one person that he kind of always knew would be the one for him, as much as he was in denial. Marc froze in shock, stopping dead in the corridor, as he analysed the man who was once his world, the anchor to his red string, and his soulmate. Dovi almost crashed into the back of him, and Crutchlow swore loudly at the sudden holdup, but Marc was rooted to the spot. The Italian behind him gently nudged him forward, forcing his legs into action as his mind raced with newly gathered information.
Valentino never made it a secret that he disliked Marc, that he wanted nothing to do with him. It was known to everyone, so it was some cruel joke from the universe to make them soulmates; even more so to conceal it until now. Perhaps, if they had known sooner, the fallout would never have happened, or perhaps it was always going to be part of their story, if you believed in that kind of stuff. The older man looked behind at that moment, prompted by the British rider's loud complaint at Marc's sudden braking. He made brief eye contact with Marc, who stood only a few feet away, and scowled. Marc blinked as Valentino turned away, trying to ignore the red fabric which bound him to his destiny, his soulmate, and his biggest rival. The Italian didn't like Marc at the moment, but it was hit and miss with Valentino, and had been for the last three years. Sometimes he laughed at Marc's jokes, like they had been transported to 2013 and he was still enamoured by the ballsy new rookie. But most of the time, he spat vitriol in Marc's direction and looked at him like he was nothing. Marc never knew which one he would get day to day.
The universe had a funny sense of humour.
Red strings were complex, something that scientists and philosophers were still trying to study and to understand. (Which said a lot, because soulmates were not exactly a new concept). According to Marc's understanding, bonds were different for each soulmate pair, whether it be their manifestation, the development, or the relationship. The confusion often stemmed from the fact that the manifestation of a red string didn't necessarily develop immediately when someone met their soulmate for the first time, or even over the course of a relationship. Some soulmates would realise almost immediately, seeing the string and feeling their connection. For others, it would take years to be visible (see Marc and Valentino). There was no definite scientific basis for it. Nobody really knew what triggered the red string to appear, whether it appeared straight away or took time to develop, whether it was proximity or timing. It was one of the mysteries of the world.
Of course, the other complication was that one person seeing the string didn't necessarily mean that both did (again, see Marc and Valentino). One thing that was known was that when new bonds formed, the string often only became visible to one side of the soulmate pair. It was as if the manifestation started in one person before the other - like a half-formed bond, waiting for the other end to click. So, Marc thought he had time, with the bond not fully formed yet. Red on Marc's side, visible to him, but unknown to Valentino, which was probably why Valentino never reacted in that press conference. In hindsight, Marc would not have wanted Valentino's manifestation to occur there, not with the media sitting before them, ready to lap up Valentino's nasty comments about Marc, soulmate or not. With the Italian's mood changes, Marc could not predict what kind of reaction a manifestation would elicit, which is why he had to keep it secret, make sure Valentino did not find out that they were soulmates, until their relationship had cooled off enough to avoid any impending eruptions.
As previously covered, Marc was told all of the stories and fairy tales about soulmates when he was growing up, and he had believed them to some degree, certain that his soulmate would be the perfect ending. How naïve he was. He remembered the adults telling him how his soulmate would make his life complete, fill his whole heart with love. Instead, his heart began to feel like a void, devoid of anything at all. Whilst Marc was trying to conceal this new relationship from Valentino, he was also desperately attempting to keep things from boiling over on track, which was easier said than done.
It did not go well.
Their battles were tougher than ever, and there never seemed to be a way out. Marc couldn't transform himself on track; he was a different person with the helmet on, and that man would do anything for a win. With tensions high, Marc was desperate to try to repair their relationship into something that could be salvaged, but to no avail. His attempts were seemingly only making things worse.
His worst fear was coming to life before his eyes.
Things had not been doing so badly until Argentina. Marc didn't even know how it happened. The race was a blur, the crash more so, guilt threatening to close up his throat as the panic set in, even through the haze of adrenaline. Afterwards, when the endorphins had receded from his system, leaving a gaping hole of panic, he realised just how bad this could be. With Valentino unaware of their bond, there was no incentive to restore their relationship, to work towards a solution, or to keep the peace. Marc had the distinct feeling that he was tripping into a disaster that day as he walked towards the garage with his head held high.
God, he was right. Valentino's words were beyond cruel, splintering Marc's already fractured heart. He stood in shock for longer than he would have liked before he was eventually turned away by Uccio, who seemed almost gleeful at the opportunity.
The worst part of it all, however, was not Valentino's scathing words, nor the humiliation of being turned away, nor the heartbreak of his once-hero hating him. It was that, before he could bring himself to leave, Marc glanced down and noticed that the string was duller than usual. Panic momentarily seized him. He could not see the other end of the bond, not where it was wrapped around Valentino's finger, but he could see the slight fraying of the fabric fibres. The primary stages of soulmate rejection. His heart cracked, and panic rushed through him. He tried to go further into the garage, to push past Uccio, following every instinct inside him that screamed to reach his soulmate, despite his brain telling him not to. But then there was shouting, and Marc was pushed away, frantically trying to grasp at the ruins of their relationship as his chance slipped through his fingers. Marc somehow ended up alone walking down the pit lane, flanked by Honda personnel, with only cameras for company and the dull red string wrapped around his finger.
Marc never told anyone.
Soulmate rejection was not common. Marc knew, though, that during rejection, the red string turned grey and dull over time. The fraying of the string was just a warning, but there was no knowing how long a bond could last under the strain of the relationship crumbling. Each fight worsened the rejection until the symptoms became physical. Marc's tentative research was done in secret. He hadn't told anyone about his soulmate manifestation; no one knew that Valentino was his soulmate, and no one knew that the worsening of their relationship would be disastrous for more than one reason. When only one end of the soulmate bond had manifested, only that end of the pairing would be affected by the relationship decay. Marc knew that in the final stages of rejection, the red string would be sapped of all colour at Valentino's end, a sign of the bond dying out at the root. Then, over time, the greyness travelled across the string, slowly sucking life out of one side of the bond. There was no cure. The poor sods who were rejected by their soulmates were pitied across the world. Marc was one of them. No one knew that his life was literally in the hands of the one person who hated him more than anything else in the world.
The outcome was fatal.
Rejected soulmate bonds would kill you, slowly leaching the life out of you until you become just a shell of yourself before you finally pass. It happened rarely; when you are destined to be together forever, it wasn't very often that one rejects the other. For most, it was a fate worse than death.
His research couldn't tell him how long he had. That, like everything else with the bond, was something nobody could work out. With only signs of dulling and fraying, it was likely that Marc would be okay, so long as their relationship didn't get worse, and that the bond didn't break more. Fraying was not outright rejection, just a warning. But, if more went wrong, he would be, for lack of a better word, fucked.
It made Marc nervous, not knowing and being out of control. He didn't tell anyone; his relationship with Valentino was already strained, and he feared that telling others would only make it worse. In his worst nightmares, Valentino finding out would lead the Italian to reject Marc outright. It was only a fear, but Marc wasn't taking any chances. Marc knew what was happening; he knew the fate was playing a cruel game. He knew that his and Valentino's relationship was already ruined beyond repair, and he was just lucky that it hadn't been enough to snap their bond entirely. Now, he just needed to get through the rest of his life without their relationship crumbling any more than it had already. If it meant flying under the radar and staying out of Valentino's way, then that was his goal.
Life went on there. He managed to contain the string and his secrets for another 5 years. He avoided Valentino like the plague in 2019, and then the pandemic happened. Marc's near career-ending injury helped, with him spending more time under the knife and at home recovering than on the track. In that time, Valentino retired. Marc didn't know whether to feel upset, happy, or relieved. Once the announcement was made, Marc thought that he was safe. Then time moved on, Valentino brought a team into Moto2 and then moved to MotoGP, because of course he did, but still they ignored each other. Even with a team on the grid, Valentino didn't have much to do with Marc anymore.
Marc left Honda and cried himself raw. He never looked at his little finger much anymore; it hurt less that way. He carefully schooled his face whenever Valentino was brought up and pretended he wasn't booed in Italy. He never spoke about Valentino of his own volition. It was no secret that Valentino still hated him, and they would never be real soulmates, but that was fine.
Marc could deal with that, or at least he told himself as much.
That was, of course, until it all went to shit.