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After Gabriel Bortoleto retired from Formula 1 at just 24 years old, no one ever heard from him again.
It seemed like he had disappeared. There were rumors that he had moved back to Brazil, but there was never any concrete confirmation.
It was only a year after his retirement that a few drivers admitted to still being in touch with him: Fernando Alonso — which was a surprise to no one, since everyone knew the Spaniard treated him like a son — Nico Hülkenberg, and Ollie Bearman. The three were the only drivers who had information about Gabriel, and they were firm in stating that they wouldn't say anything about him, only that he was doing well.
Deep down, Franco Colapinto felt good that there were no exceptions. That the ones chosen to know about Bortoleto were only the obvious choices, no one beyond the expected. As much as it hurt not to have any contact with the Brazilian anymore, no one knew what he was truly going through.
Franco had already resigned himself to the fact that he would never see Gabriel again — two years had already passed. So perhaps for this, and many other reasons, he couldn't believe what was happening right in front of him.
He was hallucinating. Yes, definitely, this was a side effect of fatigue. His mother had warned him that he should eat and rest as soon as he got home, since his flight back to his house in Argentina had been long, but Franco had a lot of things to tidy up after being away for so long and had spent almost the entire night cleaning everything.
And maybe his three hours of sleep were the reason why he was hallucinating seeing Gabriel Bortoleto at his doorstep. Holding a child in his arms. Did Gabriel have a son? Colapinto was on the verge of passing out; none of this could be real.
It was the Brazilian who broke the silence.
— Fran, hi. Did I come at a bad time?
— N-no! H-hi, please come in, sorry for the mess… — he stepped aside to let him in, almost tripping out of nervousness.
— If you're busy, I can come back later.
— Stay, please — he said desperately, without thinking too much.
He mentally thanked himself for managing to clean and tidy the entire living room yesterday, as he walked to the sofa, followed by Gabriel, who sat down adjusting the child in his lap.
— Um... do you guys want water? Or something? I don't have much in the fridge, but I can order something and all...
— Don't worry, Fran, I just came to talk. I want you to meet Felipe, my son.
— Nice to meet you, Felipe — he smiled, stepping closer until he looked into the little one's eyes, who just laughed and clung tighter to his father.
It was only after calming down a bit that Franco was able to pay attention to Felipe. He was still small, probably a little over a year old. His hair was a curly mess, just like Gabriel's, but his eyes were very light — leaning toward green, or maybe blue, Franco couldn't really tell.
Colapinto was so immersed in looking at little Felipe that he almost didn't notice that Gabriel was speaking
— I... don't know how to sugarcoat the truth for you. And to be honest, in a situation like this, I don't think there's any way to sugarcoat it. Franco, Felipe is your son.
Okay, Franco was absolutely certain he was hallucinating. He definitely should have slept more. Or maybe this was a dream. Yes, without a doubt, all of this was just a dream, an extremely realistic dream where he could even feel and touch.
— Franco — the Brazilian gently squeezed his hand, pulling him out of his trance. — I know this isn't what you expected, but I've been keeping this for two years and I think it's only fair that you know you have a son. I didn't come to ask for anything, I came more for myself than for you.
The Argentine felt terrible that his hesitation implied that he didn't want to give something. He would give anything Gabriel asked for, regardless if he wanted money, if he wanted Franco to take a break from his career, to disappear, or any other absurd request.
The truth was: Franco was madly in love with Gabriel. He always had been, ever since they met for the first time at a karting championship when they were 13 years old. And Colapinto had tried, really hard, to win the Brazilian over. So when Bortoleto finally gave him a chance, Franco couldn't hide his happiness and agreed to everything demanded by the other — even with one of the demands being to keep the relationship a secret.
To say Franco was devastated when Gabriel disappeared was an understatement. The Argentine even traveled to São Paulo to visit the Bortoleto family, but they seemed to know as much as he did. For a long time, he thought he had been such a terrible boyfriend that he didn't deserve a goodbye, that this was his punishment.
Never, in his two years of overthinking everything he had done wrong and what he could have changed, did he imagine there was a baby involved. They had sex, obviously, but they were always careful. Gabriel was even a bit obsessed with being cautious, so Colapinto couldn't fathom how Felipe had happened. Or worse of all: how Bortoleto felt with this happening despite all his caution.
— Gabi… — he took the Brazilian's free hand, kissing it. — Are you staying at a hotel?
Bortoleto blushed at the sudden kiss, but didn't pull his hand away.
— Yes, but I'm leaving tomorrow.
— Don't go, please. Spend this break with me, give me a chance. Let me be a dad to Felipe, just for a few days.
🪽
The first few days were tough. After so many years without talking, neither knew what to talk about, and Felipe was super attached to his dad, refusing to let go of him for anything.
But Franco had always been very persevering, and this time would be no different. He learned everything Felipe liked — strawberry yogurt, car noises, and sweet potatoes — while relearning how to talk to Gabriel.
Seeing how much Felipe enjoyed watching cars, whether on TV or passing by on the street, Colapinto bought him an electric toy Jeep. Gabriel complained, saying he had nowhere to store a car that size in his garage back home, and Franco answered without thinking much:
— You can leave it here. He can use it whenever he's here.
Bortoleto didn't answer right away, and only later did the Argentine understand what his words implied. As much as a huge part of his heart wished they could get back together and raise their son as a family, he knew how different things were now.
Idiot, Gabriel probably had someone waiting for him at home. Someone as handsome as him wouldn't stay single like that. And even if there wasn't anyone, there must be countless people wanting him, and he certainly wouldn't choose Franco among them.
As the days went by, Franco and Gabriel fell into a simple routine. Colapinto would wake up first, prepare breakfast for the three of them, and leave to train. When he returned, Gabriel would already be awake working on his laptop — even though he had retired from Formula 1, he remained passionate about motorsport and worked remotely analyzing data for a karting team.
And the rest of the day, they would spend together — except for the rare times Franco had to work with sponsors, though he had already requested all his meetings to be scheduled in the morning. To protect Bortoleto and Felipe's privacy, they didn't really leave the house, but Franco lived on a ranch, so it was relatively spacious and there were always new things to do.
As much as he loved spending the afternoon with Felipe, helping him drive his little electric car, accompanying him to feed the little pigs, or doing whatever he asked — maybe that was spoiling him, but Franco didn't know about the future, so he was going to spoil Felipe as much as he could — his favorite afternoons were when the baby slept and Colapinto was left alone with Bortoleto.
They talked about the past and the future, but always managed to avoid the present. Franco taught Gabriel how to run a ranch — caring for the animals, maintaining the structures, and much more — while Gabriel taught him how to take care of Felipe. They rarely talked about the Formula 1 season, but when they did, Colapinto preferred to stay quiet and listen to the Brazilian talk — his voice was addicting and his intelligence off the charts; if Franco had him as his engineer, he would follow all his orders without complaining or questioning.
But just like all good things must come to an end, the break ended and Franco had to prepare to go to the Netherlands. On their last day together, they avoided talking about it and just enjoyed the day — even letting Felipe eat a little bit of chocolate while the adults had fondue.
— Give me your number — the Brazilian said suddenly, while they waited at the ranch door for the car that would take him to the airport.
For a few seconds, Franco forgot his own number, and when he remembered, he could only say the digits in Spanish. But Gabriel's laugh at seeing him stumble was so satisfying that he would play the fool as many times as necessary.
🪽
On the plane, during media day, and throughout practice sessions, Franco could only think of Gabriel and Felipe. But the only thing possible to do was to think and wait for the Brazilian to text him something, since he didn't have his number.
It was only on qualifying day that his prayers were answered. Franco was already at the hotel reading the team reports when he received a message from an unsaved number.
xxxxxxxx
[ video ]
someone was happy with daddy in P5 🥰
Colapinto couldn't tell if he cried because he finally had Gabriel's contact again, because they were both watching the races and focusing on him, or because Felipe had called him dad on his own.
Even with the race and training calendar, Franco always tried to find a gap to check and reply to messages. They mostly talked about Felipe, but sometimes the topic drifted to racing and personal life.
After much insisting, the Argentine finally got Bortoleto's address and started sending gifts he bought wherever he traveled. He used the excuse that the gifts were for Felipe, but he always sent something he knew Gabriel would like.
🪽
Franco thought a lot before sending the message. He thought, reflected, and even spoke with his psychologist, but everything led to a single answer: you won't know unless you ask. That's why he spent the whole day checking the time zones and waiting for a decent hour in Brazil so he could send the message.
[ you ]
hey
are you free? can we talk?
[ bibi ]
what happened?
[ you ]
don't worry
just wanted to ask something
[ bibi ]
go ahead
[ you ]
would you, by any chance, hypothetically, just thinking out loud
be willing to come see interlagos?
[ bibi ]
fran, you know how it is
[ you ]
bibi, please, let me talk
I'm just asking
I know you still love F1, and felipe has that same love
if you don't want to, it's fine, but I needed to ask because I know how much you love this sport
and even if you won't admit it, how much you miss it
besides, it's been almost 3 years, don't you think it's a good idea to reappear? you don't need to talk to anyone, just show up and show that you're okay
I'm sure there are thousands of people who still care about you to this day
and interlagos would be the best place for that, it's your home!!!!!
there is no place in the world that loves you more
please, just think about it
[ bibi ]
ok fran
I'll think about it, no promises
[ you ]
thank you bibi ❤️
Franco put his phone away and got ready for bed, before he could impulsively write and send something like ' I love you and I miss you '. As true as it was.
🪽
Franco had never won the lottery, but when he was a kid, he used to think a lot about what that feeling would be like. In his head, winning the lottery would be the happiest thing in his life, but now he wasn't so sure.
Finding out about Felipe and becoming part of his life was one of the happiest moments of his life. But seeing Gabriel Bortoleto's message agreeing to go to Interlagos with him managed to feel even better.
Colapinto couldn't hide his happiness, to the point where his own team was confused by his sudden change in behavior — he couldn't really blame them, he had spent a long time anxious about the Brazilian's potential rejection.
Even though he was bursting with joy, he avoided talking too much about it, afraid that Bortoleto might change his mind at any moment. But his heart skipped a beat just sending the pass details to him — obviously they would have access for every day, full passes to walk around the entire paddock and his garage. If he could do more, he would, but he knew he'd be lucky if Gabriel even showed up on race day.
🪽
Mexico flew by in the blink of an eye, and as much as he was frustrated by missing out on points by a narrow margin, he couldn't stop thinking about seeing Gabriel and Felipe again.
He caught a flight to São Paulo as soon as the race ended, trying to rest as much as possible during the flight — no conversations with his team, promising he would be as obedient as possible and attend all the meetings they wanted once they arrived in Brazil.
Franco wanted to arrive as rested as possible, since he had booked a room in the same hotel he was staying in for Gabriel and Felipe. He had received a message from him saying they were already heading to the hotel, so he was eager to arrive and see them right away.
He knew he wouldn't be able to see them as soon as he arrived because of Felipe's sleep schedule, so upon checking in, he just set an alarm to wake up early and went straight to sleep. For the first time in his life, he woke up smiling to the sound of his alarm.
The hours before meeting the two felt like a test of patience, but as soon as he went down to the hotel lobby on Thursday morning, Franco felt his chest warm up. Gabriel was already settled at a more secluded table in the restaurant, and Felipe, grumbling sleepily, was trying to hold a spoon of fruit.
Franco didn't even try to disguise his enthusiasm. He sat down next to Gabriel, giving him a kiss on the cheek and picking Felipe up in his arms, showering his son with kisses.
— ¿Dónde está el bebé de papá? ¡El bebé más hermoso de Brasil!
— I'm sure he doesn't understand you. — Gabriel grumbled, returning to his breakfast.
— Bibi, my son has Argentine blood, it's obvious he understands Spanish.
The Brazilian turned his face to hide a laugh while Franco continued to shower Felipe with kisses, now speaking only in Spanish to him.
🪽
The rest of the week passed in the blink of an eye as Franco split his time between his obligations and every free minute he could spend with them at the hotel. Thinking that his two favorite people in the world were waiting for him at the hotel made everything feel lighter.
Gabriel and Felipe preferred to stay at the hotel during practice and qualifying, but just knowing that both were watching him made Franco drive with a lightness he hadn't felt in a long time. Plus, the Argentine support in the stands made it all the more special — he truly felt like he was at home.
On race Sunday, Franco, who usually went to the racetrack alone, was accompanied by a nervous Gabriel and a super anxious Felipe — who still couldn't understand much, but got excited whenever he heard the word "cars."
He walked with them to the garage, using internal routes to avoid the eyes of journalists, even though he knew that as soon as they entered, a thousand cameras would be aimed at them.
— Fran, you're more nervous than I am. — Gabriel teased, looking at the Argentine who was standing still, lost in thought before entering the garage.
— I... I just want it to be a good experience for you... I want you to be able to enjoy it without a camera in your face disturbing you.
Gabriel let out a soft laugh, looking at him.
— Franco, I'm not fragile and I'm not afraid of cameras. If I were worried about that, I wouldn't have come. As much as I love you, I'm big enough to make my own choices. Now, let's go inside before your team comes and drags you by your hair to the car.
— ... You love me? — when the Argentine snapped out of his trance, he was standing alone in front of the garage.
🪽
The race passed in a blur. He felt as though he had blinked a few times and was already crossing the checkered flag. His engineer was saying something, but Franco couldn't pay attention — he was too busy listening to the crowd cheering in the grandstands.
P1. Franco had won the race. Maybe he was crying, but he couldn't tell. The emotion of winning his first Formula 1 race, in front of his country and with the love of his life watching, was something impossible to explain.
— Franco, — his engineer's voice broke his trance. — someone wants to talk to you.
— .. Huh? — was the only thing he managed to reply before hearing the headset being passed to someone else.
— Papá. — Felipe's childish voice made him cry even more. — Papá. Parabéns. Beijo. Amo você papá.
Franco parked the car with blurry vision, completing all the necessary procedures on autopilot. Even amidst the adrenaline of victory, his mind was flooded with thoughts of Gabriel and Felipe. He needed to see them right away. That was why, when signing the champagne bottle, he made it very clear who that victory was for.
He thought he had no more tears left to cry, but was proven wrong upon hearing the Argentine national anthem. Bringing his country back to the top had always been his biggest dream, and seeing that dream come true with Argentine fans watching made everything even more special.
The exact second the anthem ended, he was soaked by the other drivers on the podium, but he didn't care at all, walking over to where his team was and pouring all the champagne over them.
🪽
He could still feel his body pulsing with adrenaline, even though the race had ended hours ago. When Franco finally managed to leave the paddock, his only thought was to get back to the hotel, take a good shower, and sleep until the following weekend.
As soon as he opened the bedroom door, he realized he wasn't alone. The main light was off and the curtains were closed, with only the bedside lamp softly illuminating the room.
Gabriel was sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing an Alpine hoodie that Franco was sure was his, rocking Felipe, whose eyes were already heavy and his breathing rhythmic. Seeing Franco walk in, the Brazilian put his index finger to his lips, asking for silence with a subtle smile.
Franco froze at the entrance, taking in the scene. The dim lighting made Gabriel's features look even softer, and the Argentine began to wonder if it was possible to fall even deeper in love. Carefully, Gabriel stood up and laid the little one on the bed, building a castle of pillows to keep him safe.
Gabriel walked up to Franco with slow steps. He stopped right in front of him, crossing his arms and taking in the Argentine's state.
— You smell like champagne. — the Brazilian whispered, the corner of his lips curling into a smile.
Franco laughed softly, hesitating for a second before reaching out to hold Gabriel's waist, pulling him close.
— Thank you for coming. Truly. I missed you so much in the paddock... I thought I was going to go crazy without you.
Gabriel sighed, finally letting himself relax for the first time in days as he placed his hands on Franco's shoulders.
— It took me three years to gather the courage to face all this again. And I'm grateful I got to experience it all with you. I... I thought I had destroyed everything when I left.
— You didn't destroy anything, Bibi. — Franco interrupted, fixing his eyes on the Brazilian. — You and Felipe are the best things that have ever happened to me, and every day I'm grateful to have you by my side. I would do anything for you.
— Franco... Please don't say things you'll regret later. You don't seem to understand the weight of your words.
— Please, never say that again. I would never regret anything that involves you, Gabriel. You are the best decision I've made in my entire life, and I would choose you every single day of my life. Nothing makes me happier than being by your side. I love you. — he murmured, before sealing his lips in a calm kiss.
Gabriel returned the kiss, wrapping his arms around Franco's neck and burying his fingers in the Argentine's messy hair.
— I love you. — he whispered as they pulled apart, eyes welling up with tears.
Franco kissed his face all over, finishing at his eyes, kissing away the tears that threatened to fall.
— I love you more.