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The checkered flag seemed to blur in his vision as he crossed the finish line. The unbearable tension in his body finally relaxed under the suffocating orange suit, his feet reducing its weight upon the heavy gas pedal as he slowed down the car. He felt a wave of relief as everything seemed to have paid off within that minute, closing his eyes as he let himself be drowned in joy.
Back-to-back Formula Three and Formula Two champion, Gabriel Bortoleto, is finally a Formula One champion.
In an instant, it felt like those late nights spent staying up analyzing data and every break testing out the car with his engineers finally paid off. Gabriel tried to not put all of the credit to himself, some people will call it a polished, PR-approved response for an interview, but deep down he knew that it was the truth. He wouldn’t be here without his parents' sacrifice, without Enzo’s sacrifice. They’re watching him right now, witnessing the exact moment he claimed his championship title.
He let one of his trembling hands off of the steering wheel as it slipped through the car’s halo, waving to the crowds that were witnessing him make history.
“Gabriel Bortoleto, you are the winner of the Abu Dhabi grand prix, and most importantly, a world champion. I’m—we’re very proud of you, Gabi,” after what felt like eternity of radio silence from the pitwall, Gabriel could finally hear him from the other side. His voice was breathy, his smile was practically radiating through the radio, in the background there were muffled sounds of the team screaming and celebrating in the background.
“Thank you… thank you, Franco. This wouldn’t be possible without you,” his voice cracked over the radio. Gabriel tried to not put all of the credit to himself, he forgot to mention that Franco is also one of the reasons why he got here. Franco might not have been his family member, but he was the one who kept him grounded the most without his family. The race engineer was there beside him when he was taking a late night data analyst in the motorhome, silently sliding a cup of hot coffee onto his desk.
“I didn’t remember there being any milk at the hospitality?” Gabriel had questioned one time, taking a slow sip of his coffee. Franco smiled softly, rolling up a chair right beside him, “I stopped by the Red Bull motorhome to ask for some."
Gabriel shook his head, feeling a soft laugh threatening to escape, “Franco it’s literally just coffee, you don’t have to do any of that.”
“It was just a couple of steps away,” Franco scoffed lightly as he nudged Gabriel’s knee. “Besides that’s the way you like it, I remember.”
When Gabriel felt the confusing warmth in his chest, he cleared his throat as he put down his coffee. “Well, you should work on tomorrow’s tire strategy instead of memorizing my coffee order,” Gabriel deflected, leaning closer towards the computer screen in hope that he could focus better on the data in front of him. “I’m not too happy with this evening’s debrief, there’s no way I’m starting on softs.”
This has always been Gabriel’s concern after positioning ninth on the qualifying that afternoon, he couldn’t afford to lose any position because of an early pit stop—especially under questionable weather, and he does not have much faith with the pit crew.
Franco just took a soft sigh, adjusting his thick rimmed glasses before wheeling his chair closer towards Gabriel, the other refusing to look back. “Look, I get it. It was a horrible result—your words, not mine,” Franco emphasized. “But the team has thought this through thoroughly. And before you disagree again, Gabi, your opinion does matter to me. I thought about it too and—”
There goes his rambling once again.
Franco was a brilliant race engineer, Gabriel admits. He’s amazing at trying to keep Gabriel composed mid-race, but the only issue is that Franco couldn’t manage to calm himself down, especially on days when he forgot to bring his mate.
“Alright, Franco,” Gabriel interrupted, finally turning the chair to look at him. “I trust you, okay? And the team too. But strategies sometimes just don't always go to plan—and you also need your gut feeling. This is my home race, Fran. I just want to give the best result possible.”
Gabriel felt completely stupid, like he had just lost it. Maybe he had spent too much time scrolling on twitter and started believing in home race curses, or maybe it’s just his nagging gut feeling telling him that there could be a better strategy than the current one. Beside him, Franco was lost in deep thought, resting his head onto his open palm while absently running his fingers though his messy brown hair as a sign of distress.
It was only the two of them there, the rest of the team had already gone home to take a rest for tomorrow, the silence in the room is slowly killing him. Before Gabriel could say nevermind and tell Franco to forget whatever nonsense he had just said, the other let out a heavy sigh of defeat and finally looked up.
“Fine. We can work with the tire changes. We’ll try starting on mediums,” Franco murmured. “Look… the boss wouldn’t like it for changing these last minute, but I’ll push for it. I promise.”
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he nodded softly, “thanks, Franco.”
There were still so many things Gabriel wanted to say, as if he hadn’t managed to let all of his gratitude out. Maybe it was the cause of the season slowly crushing him, getting a constant reminder that he’s the current championship leader with a margin of just ten points.
Fuck it.
“Seriously, Fran… you have no idea how much it meant to me that you listened to my thoughts on this,” Gabriel muttered, his eyes couldn’t manage to look at the race engineer, fixing his gaze onto the floor tiles while his fingers drummed anxiously against his chair’s armrest. “You’re always the one pitching my opinion to the team and sometimes it feels like I’m interfering with what you guys are trying to do.”
Franco straightened up his posture, his brows furrowing in confusion. He rolled his chair even closer, bringing them close with each other and Gabriel is embarrassed to admit that he’s completely aware how their knees are practically touching right now.
“Gabi, of course I listen to you. In fact, the team should listen to you more. You’re the one behind the cockpit after all and you’re the one who actually knows how the car feels out there. You’re my driver, Gabi, and I have to give the best for you—” Franco cut himself off, his cheeks flushing as he realized how off-putting his words might have sounded.
“I mean, your performance,” Franco stammered.
And when race day happened, the Interlagos rain came earlier than expected, working well with the mediums he started on. That afternoon, Gabriel crossed the finish line in a P2. A podium finish in his home race. “Thank you, Fran. Incredible from the team—especially from you. That was an amazing race,” Gabriel said through the radio, the emotion in his voice drowned by the humming of the engine. “Congratulations on the home race podium, Gabi. You deserve it, nice work from you too. Let’s keep pushing.”
As soon as he stepped out of the car, Gabriel sprinted towards the team to celebrate the podium finish. It was obviously a tense morning for the team, after Franco forced through the sudden strategy change, there was a sour look from the boss. But finishing on the podium, Gabriel is glad that he could pay Franco back with a great finish.
When it was time to go back to the garage, Franco approached him with a hug that had lasted a little too long and a little too tighter than usual, causing the sweet scent of champagne from Gabriel’s suit to linger a lot longer on Franco’s skin the whole day.
Gabriel stayed in the cockpit as he couldn’t bring himself to stand up after parking the car. It still felt completely surreal. He slumped forward, resting his helmet against the steering wheel as he felt dizzy, waiting for another radio message from Franco while the Abu Dhabi night was lit up by blaring fireworks overhead. Instead of that familiar voice, his team boss came through the radio, showering him with praise for the championship-worthy drive. He appreciated it, he really did, but all he wanted was to hear Franco. The one who truly understood him.
Snapping out of it, he managed to unbuckle his seatbelt with shaky hands. When Gabriel climbed up and stood on his car, the adrenaline was surging through his veins as he let out a loud, triumphant scream of victory—the exact same one that he did long ago when he got his F2 championship title—as the grandstands erupted in cheers for him. He could spot his parents and Enzo already present at the parc fermé, their presence pushed Gabriel to jump down and took off his equipment, handing it to one of his engineers before running towards them.
His racing heart finally began to calm down as he melted into their embrace. Enzo was still trying to crack jokes to keep their mother from crying even more, though Gabriel could hear quiet sniffles coming from his older brother too. “Ah meu filho, você é incrivel, estamos muito orgulhosos de você,” his mother muttered under trembling breaths, her hands gently cupping his cheeks.
The last time he had seen his mother this emotional was two years ago when he took his very first ever win at Monza. The crowd of fans outside of the pit lane’s fence were waiting for him, cheering and calling for his name, eager to see their race winner. Unfortunately, he has to hold that for a while as he has to calm down his crying mother somewhere private in the McLaren garage.
“Mãe, por que você tá chorando? A gente deveria estar comemorando,” Gabriel whispered softly as he used his thumbs to sweep the tears from the corners of her eyes. A small grin broke across his lips, “eu quero te ver sorrir.”
Unfortunately, his PR manager was a pain in the ass and in Formula One public image is much more important than spending time with his mother. Ignoring the roaring crowd chanting his name outside would be a horrible image for him and the team.
From afar, he had heard someone calling his name from inside the garage, from the loud and thick spanish accent he could tell who it was. “Bortoleto! They’re waiting for you outside! I can’t hold onto this flag any longer—it feels like I’m betraying my country.”
Franco appeared from the corner with a Brazilian flag draped over his arm. When Franco saw the state of his weeping mother, he offered to take over as Gabriel could go outside to celebrate with the awaiting fans. Hours later, when Gabriel gets to see his mother again, she couldn’t stop mentioning how sweet and charming his new race engineer was.
Gabriel whispered more soothing words and thank yous towards his mother’s ears, Enzo leaned in to give one last peck on his cheek and a ruffle on the hair before letting Gabriel go to celebrate with the team. They were already waiting for their champion to greet them from the paddock’s fence, loud cheers coming from them.
The second Gabriel saw Franco from afar, the other was already opening his arms wide for a hug—and as if gravity had pulled him, Gabriel ran straight towards Franco in a rush. It was the familiar warm embrace that they had shared in Interlagos, Franco burying his head in the crook of Gabriel’s neck.
“There’s nothing more I would say other than thank you, Fran,” Gabriel whispered, holding the other tightly. “Thank you for trusting me all this time and especially thank you for your hard work.”
They stayed there for a while as the silence continued on, accompanied by the sounds of fireworks and running engines. When Gabriel noticed that there wasn't any response from the other, he shifted back to look at him, hands still around the other’s waist. To his surprise, Franco’s eyes were wet, glistening with tears behind his glasses.
“Wait… Fran, why are you crying?” Gabriel couldn’t help but giggle. Franco immediately looked away, lowering his gaze as if trying to hide his face. “Yeah—no, I’m just… just very happy for you, Gabi. God, we’ve been through a lot, and—and you deserve this,” there was a weak smile on Franco’s face, sniffling as he reached under his glasses to rub his eyes.
Gabriel was lost for words. Franco always seemed so composed in front of him, giving him encouragement whether the results went well or not. He had never complained about spending endless time in the factory. Looking at Franco now, it’s like the other didn’t do this only for the team, but also for Gabriel personally. He wanted to see Gabriel here, he wanted to see Gabriel win.
“We deserve it,” Gabriel corrected, his voice cracking slightly. “We did this together, Fran. There’s nobody else I’d rather celebrate this podium with other than you,” Gabriel sniffled as he meant every single word. If there was anyone else in this team that would know how exhausting it is to go through this title fight, the answer would only be Franco. Not even his teammate, not even his boss.
When Gabriel’s name was called out over the loudspeakers, Franco walked with him as the constructor representative on the podium. They shared the long walk out together side by side, with Gabriel cheering and shouting with the crowd. The Brazilian national anthem felt much more alive that night, he closed his eyes as he let the breeze of the Abu Dhabi night settle him down.
When the trophies were handed out, Gabriel popped his bottle of champagne and sprinted towards Franco who was ready with his own bottle. It was a shared podium that felt different than any other, the ones that would stay with him forever especially during nights where he couldn’t go to sleep.
While Gabriel was busy drenching his champagne at the other drivers on the podium, he couldn't stop sneaking glances at Franco. Every glance was met with the exact same sight of Franco staring back at him, wearing the biggest smile that Gabriel had ever seen.
—
Media duties were as boring as it usually was, except the difference was that everything still felt electric—the adrenaline still rushing in his veins. Gabriel answered every question with an extra cocky confidence. He could practically hear the public calling him arrogant and snobby, but who were they to judge? He’s the world champion.
Still, his hand gripped the mic a little too tightly, still feeling the lingering touch that was left by Franco. When it came time to take photos with the trophies and the top three finishers on the podium, Gabriel smiled brightly towards the flash of the camera, trophy held high in one hand—while behind their backs, his fingers were tightly intertwined with Franco’s.
Franco’s hand felt soft and surprisingly warm under the cool Abu Dhabi breeze, Gabriel could feel the faint tremor from the other’s hand. He gave Franco’s hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze before pulling away, causing Franco to glance at him. Gabriel could have sworn he saw the other’s eyes glistening with unshed tears.
Sitting under the harsh lights of the press room covered in champagne manage to turn into hell when he felt a heavy wave of missing Franco creeping up the back of his neck. He’s curious about what Franco would be doing right now. Is he planning a surprise for him with the team? Damn, Gabriel wished that the celebration could just be the two of them.
Oh. Oh.
Gabriel realized that was definitely not the right thoughts to have about your race engineer. Oh god, he sighed as he rubbed his hands over his face, the sticky residue of the champagne still itching on his sensitive skin. Changing his sitting position, Gabriel tried to ignore his thoughts and forced his brain to focus on one of the reporter’s questions instead. Realizing his feelings for his race engineer mid-conference, right after winning a championship was definitely one of the worst timings in the world.
When he finished his press conference, the night was thick with the smell of sweat and champagne. It was a huge and wild night for the team, the McLaren garage was filled with mechanics singing, chanting, and jumping around. He felt his face muscles grew sore from grinning so hard for hours on end, but God, he hasn’t felt this alive in a while.
The night was as alive as ever as camera flashes lit up the pit lane, more champagne was sprayed covering the asphalt. Gabriel felt like he was living at the top of the world as he was being carried around by his engineers, this was the exact dream he had been chasing his whole life. It just felt horrible and suffocating that this whole time he was trying to search for Franco that hasn’t been spotted ever since he got back. As he laughed and raised his fists, his eyes glanced everywhere, in desperate search of the other.
Nearly half an hour had passed and still no sign of Franco. God, all Gabriel wanted was to celebrate the victory with him. While everyone was too busy listening to the boss’ grandstanding speech about something like teamwork and competence, he quietly slipped out from the crowds as he headed to the garage. After all, what does he know about team work? He makes questionable strategies and throws Franco under the bus whenever it goes downhill.
It’s not hard to spot Franco inside the garage. When Gabriel stepped past the heavy stacks of hard Pirelli tires, he could hear soft, muffled sniffles coming from behind the rubber walls.
“Franco?” Gabriel called out before actually seeing the other. It was quiet before he heard a faint clearing of the throat, the gentle voice replied, “Sí.”
Gabriel stepped forward, rounding the stack, and he felt his heart sank when he saw the sight. Franco was tucked away sitting on the concrete floor, knees pulled tightly to his chest. His folded glasses were clutched in one hand, his head resting heavily against his knees as he leaned against the tires.
“Fran, are you alright?” Gabriel asked softly, kneeling right beside him. “Is there anything wrong? Did I do anything wrong?”
When Gabriel heard no response from the other, he slid down onto the floor beside him. There were no audible sobs from Franco, which was kind of a relief, but he still doesn’t know what to do having a crying race engineer beside you. This sucks, Gabriel thought, a wave of guilt hit him. Maybe he did something wrong at the podium, or even had unintentionally said something over the radio mid-race.
Before Gabriel could doubt himself even deeper, the Argentine lifted his face to look at him. A small, weak smile tugged at his lips. Under the dim light of the garage, it was obvious that the other had been crying for some time. His eyes were red and puffy, much worse than what he saw at the parc fermé.
Suddenly, Franco broke into a fit of soft giggles, leaving an even more confused Gabriel. Okay, this might either be some kind of cruel prank or Franco had just lost his damn mind. “It looks like your eyes are about to pop out from looking at me like that,” Franco teased as he lowered his gaze, trying to hold back the giggles from coming out again.
“Why are you even here anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be celebrating with the team?” Franco asked once he calmed down, his voice sounding raspier than usual.
“Well, aren’t you supposed to be celebrating with us? Instead of sitting here alone?” Gabriel tried to counter, but his voice turned soft with genuine confusion. Gabriel threw his head back, “the boss is giving his speech about teamwork and competence again. I didn’t want to hear any more of that bullshit, so I bailed out, came looking for you.”
Franco leaned back, joining Gabi as he rested his head towards the wall of tires. “He’s the worst.” Franco muttered under staggered breath, causing a laugh out of the two of them. When their fit of laughter died down, Franco shifted closer towards Gabriel. “Gabi, you don’t have to come searching for me. This is your moment. You should be out there… popping champagne and blasting loud music outside of the garage.”
“I want to celebrate it with you, Fran. It’s not just my title—this is also the team’s. It’s ours,” Gabriel muttered softly, wanting Franco to understand every single word. “I’m not discrediting myself, but I wasn’t there working on this alone. You built this win with me, you’re a part of this, Franco. And.. I just wish you’d tell me what’s wrong, and why you’re hiding from me.”
The last part probably came out with a sharp edge in his voice under a fit of frustration. He was still desperate to understand what was wrong and he hated that he couldn’t figure it out. A heavy moment of silence fell between them as Franco was still not saying anything and Gabriel tried to not push the other any further.
Gently, Gabriel reached across the small gap as he rested his palm onto Franco’s back, tracing small, soothing circles. He was trying to recreate the familiar touch that Franco had given him once before.
It was back at his very first race with McLaren, right after an unwanted crash in Melbourne. After getting out of the wrecked car, he dragged himself straight to his driver's room to cry about the disappointing DNF.
Not long after Gabriel had closed his door, Franco had come knocking to make sure if the other was doing alright and not injured in any way. When he found Gabriel curled on the floor in tears, Franco had dropped down beside him. He whispered soft comforting words and rubbed soothing circles that calmed Gabriel down—filling the empty space when his family couldn’t be there to hold him.
“I’m proud of you, Gabi. I’m—I’m glad that I could bring you here,” Franco said, his voice was raw as it broke through Gabriel's thoughts. “I know I don’t look like it right now, but I’m very happy for you,” Franco added another breathless laugh as another tear shed from his eyes.
It was obvious that there was still something else that Franco wanted to say so Gabriel remained quiet, a gentle smile present to comfort the other.
“I’m not trying to hide things from you. It’s just… it’s hard to say, Gabi,” Franco stammered, the tightness in his chest making him gasp for air. “I don’t want to ruin your night, but… I’m being transferred next season.”
When the words left Franco’s lungs, it felt like he could finally breathe. There were tears spilling over his long lashes as a fragile smile tugged at his lip, his hand reaching out to catch a grip of Gabriel’s shoulder to anchor himself.
“This is such an asshole move to tell you this now, Gabi. I only got the news this week and—and I’m just grateful that I got to see you achieve what you’ve been working your whole life—”
Before Franco could finish, Gabriel leaned in to close the gap between them and pressed his lips against Franco’s in a kiss. Franco’s lips had tasted like the sour champagne from the podium celebration, mixed with the bitter salt of his tears. It felt warm and fuzzy—overwhelming like he had just crossed the finish line once again.
When Franco responded to the kiss, Gabriel deepened it without any hesitation. His hands reached out to caress the other’s cheeks, his thumbs gently wiping away the remaining tears on his skin. Franco’s trembling hands placed down his glasses before it slid up to the nape of Gabriel’s neck, fingers tangling into his hair to pull him closer.
Gabriel felt Franco’s body finally loosen in his arms, his stiff shoulders dropping as a soft exhale left his lungs. Their kiss was gentle and intimate, unhurried as they took their time tasting every corner of each other’s lips in the shadow of the garage.
When Gabriel finally broke the kiss, an ache of longing hit him as he already missed the feeling of Franco’s soft lips. He rested his forehead against Franco’s, inhaling the smell of the other’s musky cologne and sticky champagne.
A soft giggle erupted out of Franco, causing both of their bodies to tremble lightly against the tires. “I didn’t even get to finish what I was saying.” Franco murmured softly.
“Sorry, it just looks like you were about to pass out,” Gabriel teased, a wide grin present on his lips. Gabriel slid his arms down, wrapping them tightly around Franco’s waist as he pulled the other against his chest. Resting his chin on Franco's shoulder, a sheer longing was felt in his heart as he tried to process the reality of what Franco had said before. Franco has been there as a part of his everyday routine, through every high and low. He couldn’t imagine sitting in the cockpit without Franco’s voice through the radio, not when Franco was the one who had always fought with him.
“It’s not a problem if you’re getting transferred, Fran. I’m sure it’ll be so much better for you than staying here,” Gabriel murmured softly, feeling tears forming at the corners of his eyes. “I’m glad that you could end it here with us celebrating our victory,” Gabriel felt his voice grew shaky as he lifted his head, trying to catch a glimpse of the other’s face clearly under all of the tires. “It just… wouldn’t be the same without you here,” Gabriel sniffles.
Franco couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh as he saw Gabriel’s current state, his eyes crinkling shut above his wide grin. “No, no, why are you crying now? We can still see each other, right?” Franco giggled, now wiping the tears off Gabriel's face. Gabriel lets out a shaky breath, giving a soft nod, “Yeah… yeah, we can still see each other. But your new team will probably think you’re leaking team secrets.”
They settled back against the stack of Pirelli tires, their fingers intertwining lazily as it rested comfortably on Gabriel’s thigh. Franco rested his head lightly on Gabriel’s shoulder, breathing slow and steady as they stayed there for a while. They soaked up each other’s presence as the cheer and loud music from outside continued, mumbling behind the thick walls of the garage.
Gabriel hummed softly to one of the songs he used to sing to himself in a cold hotel room back in his early karting days after being left alone to compete in Europe. It was a horrible memory, filled with loneliness. As Gabriel rubbed his thumb along the soft skin of Franco’s hand, he hoped that whenever he caught himself humming that song later on in the future, he’d hope that the loneliness would be forgotten with this moment instead.
“I’m proud of you, Gabi,” Franco murmured against his shoulder, breaking the comfortable silence.
“You’ve said that many times already, Fran,” Gabriel teased, looking down at his race engineer.
“Well, I don’t feel like I’ve said it enough—especially after ruining your night like this,” Franco said, tilting his head up so their eyes met. The tears in his eyes had finally stopped, but it was obvious Franco’s eyes were still red and swollen under the dim garage light. “You didn’t ruin anything. When I was at the press conference, the only thought I had was to celebrate with you,” Gabriel assured.
“You mean the press conference where you put on that awful, cocky attitude?” Franco pressed playfully. Gabriel rolled his eyes, letting out a huffed breath, it’s sweet to imagine that the other still managed to get his time and watch the press conference live. “Well, I have to give the media what they want, there’s nothing more entertaining than the championship winner being awfully snobby about his win,” Gabriel defended with a smirk.
“Do you even know where they are transferring you to?”
“Mercedes.”
“They almost stole my title, and now they want to steal my race engineer,” Gabriel scoffed as he recalled all the moments of wheel-to-wheel battles with both of the Mercedes cars, fighting for the first-place position. “I’ll order them to make way for you next season.”
Suddenly, muffled voices could be heard from outside of the garage, mechanics and the team calling out for Gabriel as they wondered where the new world champion had gone. “They’re looking for you. Go,” Franco murmured softly against his shoulder.“I will if you’d celebrate with me,” Gabriel insisted. With that, Franco let out a defeat sigh as he nodded. As embarrassing as it is to come out with puffy red eyes under the bright garage lights, at least he could make up excuses that the champagne was stinging his eyes. When they both got up from the cold tiles, Gabriel wrapped his arm snugly around Franco’s shoulders, guiding him out of the garage.
Returning to the party, it’s definitely not a surprise that the celebration felt much more lively than before. With Franco right beside him, the noise and flashing camera doesn’t feel as suffocating as before. The embrace that they shared was now much tighter than before, not wanting to let go any longer. They tried to forget the sorrow, drowning it with more champagne and music knowing that they’ll still have each other even from afar.