somethingsomethingwords

[somethingsomethingwords]

Hello dear readers. It's really been a while. I'm here again because I want to get back into writing, and what day is better than this page's first anniversary??? Thanks to every single one of you, and let's hope in another year full of words.

As always thanks for reading. Enjoy💜

It had been one hell of a weekend. All fp sessions had ended because of a red flag, quali was postponed because it kept raining and raining, and when they finally started doing their outlaps, the track was still wet.

Both Aston Martins made it to Q3, with Fernando in p4 and Lance in p6, and both drivers wanted to get a podium.

The actual race was just as chaotic as the previous days: crashes and DNFs all around, with at least 3 safety cars issued.

It was a miracle no one got seriously injured.

Fernando couldn't complain: he barely missed the podium and defended well.

Despite the slight disappointment of missing the 15 points, he couldn't stop smiling, because Lance had gotten the podium.

With a masterclass of well timed pit-stops and overtaking, he managed to get to P3.

They were out celebrating in a club, when he was tapped on the shoulder.

"Ehi, podium boy"

It made the Canadian giggle, which in return made Nando smile even wider.

"Hi Nando. How's it going?"

"Can't complain now you're here. You? Enjoying your night?"

"Yeah, it's been intense" he said, eyes shining.

"Everything ok?" Fernando couldn't stop asking. He could see the boy was happy, but also something else was starting to show in the tense slope of his shoulders.

"Yeah, yeah, just tired of the weekend"

"Want to go back to the hotel?" He could already see the objection on the other's tongue, and was quicker. "It's no problem, am tired myself and just want to sleep"

"Thanks, I think I lost my ride back when Este "disappeared" outside with Pierre and Charles. You know how it is"

"Of course. Come, let's go" he instinctively held out his hand for the younger one. Lance took it and intertwined their fingers.

"Lead the way" he simply said, smiling softly.

When they got to Fernando's car, the older man opened its door for his boy.

"Nando.." chuckled Lance when he did a formal bow, still holding the door.

"You deserve to be pampered tonight, and want to do it. Get in the car, mi vida" he said, loving the deep crimson shade spreading on Lance's cheeks.

With a small thank you, Lance sat in the car and made himself comfortable on the leather seat.

When Fernando got behind the wheel, he noticed how at peace the other man looked, with his head resting against the headrest, and his eyes closed.

The drive back at the hotel was quiet, no music breaking the light atmosphere.

When they arrived, Fernando left his car in the underground garage and once again opened the door for the other, and got a sweet kiss on his cheek for his trouble.

He would never admit that every gentle gesture still made his skin tingle and his heart stumble, but that was the truth.

When they started dating, he was so scared of involuntarily hurting the younger man, because he had had bad past experiences. No one could have prepared him for the tenderness Lance showed him and how he was always deeply touched by it. They had learned together how to be together, through thick and thin.

Now, after almost three years of dating, Fernando couldn't imagine his life without the other, and he didn't want to.

He was rudely awakened from his daydream by a light pat on his shoulder and a light chuckle.

"Already sleeping old man? Come on, let's get you to bed" Lance said, smile never leaving his face and slowly backing towards the elevators, still looking back at Fernando.

"¿Ay cariño, que voy a hacer contigo?" he said, an adoring smile on his face, starting to move.

When they got to their room (nobody even pretended to book two rooms anymore), Lance opened the door and, barely leaving his shoes at the entrance, he started undressing. In the middle of the room. The boy was soon going to give him an aneurysm, but Fernando couldn't complain. He also couldn't help himself from asking.

"Want some company there, handsome?" badly winking because he knew it always made Lance laugh.

Lance did laugh, and in only his boxer, got closer and closer to his partner.

"Mon cœr, I love you so much. But I'm so tired, and I know what sharing a shower would mean. So, regrettably, I have to decline. Pass and double it for tomorrow" he said, then kissed the already forming pout on Fernando's lips and quickly escaped to the bathroom.

"Ah, the things I put up with for you mi amor" he sighed, thinking about the contract of a bigger house already signed and paid, and a small box hidden in his luggage, waiting for the right moment to be shown.

Soon, he will find the right moment, romantic and intimate and perfect, he will kneel (hoping no too loud crack would escape his not so young anymore knees) and ask Lance to be his husband.

Soon, but not right now, when they are both tired and sleepy and ready to gain energy for a sex marathon waiting for them come the morning.

So he patiently waited for his turn, knowing Lance was far too tired for one of his hours long showers, but not tired enough to be sensible about the water temperature: when he opened the door, the stream erupted as if it was smoke from a dragon's mouth.

After appreciating his boyfriend, basically naked if not for the white towel wrapped around his hips, and a quick kiss to Lance's still wet shoulder, he entered the bathroom for a quick shower.

Nothing could have prepared him for what awaited on the other side.

When he reentered the bedroom, he found Lance sat on the bed, black pajama pants and pink shirt, back against the headboard with his eyes closed and a colorful plastic bag on his lap.

Perceiving his presence, Lance opened his eyes, and smiled at him like he was seeing the sun for the first time in his life. It made him feel powerful and precious and bigger than life itself, warmth spreading everywhere.

Lance patted the space in front of him on the bed and patiently waited for him to put some boxer briefs and one of his own t-shirts, so big it almost reached his knees.

When he sat, Lance handed him the bag.

"What's this for, mi sol? Is not my birthday, nor our anniversary" he said, a bit confused.

They weren't big on gifts, and even when they exchanged them it was always for a special occasion.

"Just open it" he rolled his eyes, impatient but excited.

Nando chuckled, and opened the bag to find some sort of peluche. It was a brown cat, with big brown eyes and a small smile. It instantly made Fernando smile. Cute.

"It's lovely, gatito. Just like you" he said raising his eyes and looking Lance in the face. He looked happy and satisfied, and kind of nervous.

Fernando looked back at the cat, studying its tail and its ears.

It was only when he heard Lance move again that he lifted his eyes up, only to see an open box, and a ring inside.

"Fernando, I could tell you about how much I respect you as a driver, as a colleague, as a person, but that's not even a quarter of what you mean to me. I could tell you I love you, but there will never be enough time to explain how much. I could tell you a million and one thing now, but I'd rather tell them for the rest of our lives. So, Fernando Alonso Díaz, will you marry me?"

"No" Fernando answered breathlessly.

"Mh, I kinda didn't think this would happen" he said, shifting awkwardly, hoping he didn't ruin their relationship, confused about what he did wrong.

"No, idiota, that's not what I meant. ¿Espera un segundo, vale?"

"Sure dude" Lance was starting to feel self conscious at the moment, and Fernando couldn't have it. So he rose and kissed him, leaving him dazed and breathless.

When he came back, Lance was still exactly where he left him, red cheeks and looking at the air. So Fernando kneeled again on the bed and presented the love of his life with his own ring, putting down a stack of papers.

"Lance, you beat me once again today. You arrived in front of me on the grid, and you proposed first. I want you in my life from here to the end. For the last few years, racing was feeling like running away from something. Now I think I was running towards you. Lance Strulovitch, be mine forever" he just said, no question nor doubt in his mind.

Lance stared at the ring, and then at Fernando. His eyes were misty, but his big smile revealed his true feelings.

Without wasting any more time, he grabbed Nando by his own t-shirt and pulled him in a deep and passionate kiss.

They went on for what felt like hours, and then they separated, leaning against each other.

"Yes, today and tomorrow and for the rest of my days. Now put it on my finger" Lance said, putting out his left ring finger. The golden band fitted perfectly, as did the tungsten black one he put on Fernando's.

After long minutes spent staring at their left hands intertwined, and at how the light shone against the rings, Lance realized there was another thing that Fernando brought to the bed.

"What are those? Already ready with the divorce papers?" he asked, nodding towards the small pile of paper, grinning from ear to ear.

"Ah, very funny. Those are... no easy way to say that, so I'll just say... I bought us a house" he said quickly, waiting for Lance's response.

Lance's eyes widened, grin slipping off his face, mouth open because of the surprise.

"You bought a house for us?" he asked, incredulous and on the verge of tears.

"I didn't want to be rash, but I want a place that's only ours, where we can start the rest of our lives together, maybe a kid or two, no?" he simply said, keeping looking at Lance.

"You want to have kids with me?" he was now seriously crying, eyes red and snot coming out of his noise.

"I want everything with you" he answered, caressing his betrothed's cheeks and cleaning up the tears.

"I love you so much, mon ange" he said, gently kissing his lips.

"Forever"

"For always"

[somethingsomethingwords]

Hello everyone and happy pride month🏳️‍🌈 As always thanks for reading. Enjoy 💜

"It's ok."

"No, is not."

"No, but I can't do anything about it. So I'll keep my mouth shut, pretend it doesn't hurt me, or my friends, and keep going."

"Lance, I'm sorry. I ..."

"Fernando, really, it's ok. I just need a few hours to get over it"

"They shouldn't say stuff like that to you."

"Yeah, no, but they did and they'll keep doing it. And all I can do is swallow in silence."

"You don't have to be silent here, with me. Scream, cry, break stuff. I'm here now and I'll be here later."

"Nando...AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

Lance screams so long and so loud that, when he runs out of air, he can feel his throat hurting. But it doesn't matter, he doesn't care.

It's all too much, and there is not enough of him left to carry all of this suffering.

He stands up and starts banging their thickest wood cutting board against their kitchen island. They are sturdy enough to take the abuse without breaking. He should know, he bought them specifically for it.

He wishes he was sturdy in this moment. Strong and certain and never-faltering. Instead he feels small, and broken, and worn down to the bone.

When he feels his arms starting to hurt, after rising the board again and again and again, he drops it and goes to the bedroom. He reaches for a pillow, and smothers more angry shouts with it. When he can't scream anymore, he starts crying, pillow still against his face.

He curls on himself on the bed, and lets out all the repressed stress in his body, sobs rattling him and pained whines leaving his throat.

When he holds out his hand, the other man's one is there in seconds, like it was already reaching for him, unwilling to let him fall and ready to support him. The silent shadow that followed him from the living room to the kitchen and finally to the bed is now solidly touching him.

He can feel the calm chest rhythmically moving against his trembling back, arms that engulf him and promise a calm port in a stormy life. He is there, his rock, his anchor, his lighthouse. Strength, balance and safety. That's what Fernando is to him, what he will always be.

"Thank you, for being here with me."

"Do not need to thank me. I'll always be here, nothing will ever take me away from you."

"I know, but, like, thanks anyway."

"Siempre y para siempre."

"Always and forever."

[somethingsomethingwords]

Good evening *said sliding down a ramp*! Here's another fic. It started as a study of shadows and light, then it got derailed. As always thanks for reading. Enjoy 💜

When Fernando raises his eyes to the window, he is surprised to see it is already late at night, his watch reading at 00:30.

The moon shines, yellowish and full, creating a path of bright squares and dark lines.

The desktop in front of him is starting to become blurrier and blurrier, and he definitely needs a break.

He raises his arms, stretching and hearing the pops of his back. He stands up, deciding for a reinvigorating midnight snack, when he remembers he is supposed to have company.

The screen on the desk in front of his own is still on, but from his position he can't see anyone looking at it.

It is only when he walks around the table that he solves the mystery of his missing companion: Lance is sleeping sitting at the desk, face on his bent arms and soft breaths leaving his slightly parted lips.

The bright artificial light gives him a white hue, ghostly pale. It only serves to highlight the bags under his eyes.

He's pushing himself too hard, Fernando thinks, feeling worried seeing the toll the season is taking on his teammate.

Sighing slightly, he reaches for Lance's shoulder. He wants to lightly shake him, but in the exact moment he touches the other, Lance flinches away, waking up and looking around, searching for the disturbance.

When his eyes land on Fernando, he relaxes a fraction, before diverging them and starting staring at the screen, not saying anything.

"Lance, is late. Let's go home" he says softly, not wanting to disturb the quietness of the room.

"It's ok, you can go. I'll just stay for a couple more minutes" Lance tries to smile, but Nando can see it doesn't reach his eyes.

"Lance, we came together, remember?"

They didn't. They are strict about trying to keep their private lives separated from their professional ones.

But Lance seems so tired Nando isn't sure he can drive back home. And with the silence stretching, with Lance trying to figure out why he doesn't remember it, Fernando is sure it is the right call.

"We... did...not?"

Fernando is actually going to pick him up, put him on his shoulder and carry him to the car.

"No, we didn't, but you thinking about it this long tells me you shouldn't drive"

Lance has the audacity to look annoyed, before sighing and admitting defeat.

"Yeah, fair enough. But I still need to analyse the data from the last race. I'll call an Uber" he says, before turning to his computer and seemingly starting ignoring Fernando.

I love this man, and arguing will lead to nothing, Fernando has to remind himself.

From the look of it, Lance wouldn't stay awake for long. So Fernando simply leaves him alone to retrieve a water bottle from the adjacent kitchen, forgoing his snack.

When he comes back, he can see Lance's head slowly losing its battle against gravity, lowering and then rising up, each time deeper and slower than the previous one.

He waits until he is once again in front of the Canadian, leaning back against the desk, then taps Lance's cheek with the cold bottle.

Lance flinches again, but he doesn't seem to have the energy to look angry or even annoyed. He simply takes the bottle and drinks a little bit, before giving it back while offering a small smile.

Fernando takes it, and waits. Still as a statue, he can see Lance looking up at him from time to time.

Lance could be patient, but nothing compares to Nando's psychological warfare methods. If he put his mind to it, he could wait until next year.

"I know you think I can't do it. But I have to. So just, please, leave. I'm enough of a pathetic show already, there is no need for an audience"

Lance's words cut deep, fast and cold, straight to Nando's heart.

"Lance, I'm the first one who believes in you. But won't solve anything on a Tuesday morning at one a.m."

"There is no more time, Nando. I've done anything I could think of, and nothing changed. I feel like I'm just wasting time and resources here. I need to get better, to do better. If not, then all I've done, the sacrifices and the things lost and the time spent would have been for nothing. I need this to work" he is basically vomiting the words, rubbing his eyes in the vain hope the tears he can feel filling his eyes don't actually leave them.

Fernando feels like he can't do anything for his lover. He can't promise him a better car, a better strategy, a better season. He can see his partner being crushed by the pressure put on his shoulders, and he starts searching for some kind of sign of when it had started.

He knows how people talk about Lance, what they say and think, but it never seemed to bother the younger man. He starts wondering how he had been so blind to not realise their words had chipped a hole in Lance's armour.

Anyway, the damage is already done. He can only pick Lance up, and support him while his shield is under maintenance, lending his own.

"Lance, it's not going to work right now. You are tired, we both are. Let's just go home, and tomorrow we start fixing this"

Lance has a moment of hesitation.

"What if there is nothing to fix. The car is ok, the tires are ok. You have good results. What if I'm the problem, and I cannot be fixed?"

Enough is enough.

Fernando takes the face of the man he loves in his hands, forcing Lance to look at him, his grip firm but still gentle.

"Lance, listen to me. The car is shit. We know it, Mike knows it, the mechanics and the engineers, even the waiters know it. I have results because I see a problem and hammer at it so hard until it goes away. You are not the problem. Doing what we do, is difficult. Training, travelling, racing. It never stops. We keep going but is hard. So just stop, for tonight. Tomorrow we start again, but for now, let's just rest"

Fernando knows it's over when he feels Lance's head falling against his chest.

He won, but at what cost?

They stay like this, Fernando caressing Lance's hair while the younger man just breathes, trying to hide his quiet sobs and the light tremble of his shoulders.

When his watch starts vibrating, reminding him time is real, Nando gently pushes the other up, wiping the tears away.

"Let's go home" he repeats, and helps Lance get up.

With their hands intertwined, Fernando leads them outside, not turning around, sure of Lance following him, close behind.

They'll be back tomorrow, so they can leave Lance's car for the night.

Once in Fernando's car, the ride is quiet, neither needing any more words, just needing each other.

They fall asleep pressed against each other, united in a mess of fears and tiredness and love, because no matter what will happen tomorrow, or the day after, they are sure they will continue to have each other's backs.

So, when they get home, and start settling for the night, it's no brainer that Lance attaches himself to Nando's body, in need of being reassured through touch and presence. Fernando is more than happy to comply, the need in him to provide and protect finally calmed when Lance is in his arms, watching the boy falling asleep, calmer and more settled, with just the light of the moon to illuminate half his face, and for the first time, he looks real and solid and alive.

He pressed a kiss to the crown of his head, not able to limit his affection anymore.

[somethingsomethingwords]

Hello hello hello!!! This was born because I needed more Nando being besotted and Lance getting some deserved rest, no other reasons. Thank you for reading. Enjoy 💜.

Fernando was starting to feel some not so vague sense of annoyance at himself.

He and Lance were supposed to go on a date, the first one in a while, because their lives were chaotic and busy as hell.

They were both in Canada, Lance staying home, relaxing after a rough start of the season and some previous commitments, while Fernando was there for some sponsor event that absolutely required his presence, not at all having begged for something to do in Canada, granting him an excuse to be near the other man.

But he must have prayed a little too hard, because not only the event had run later than programmed, but it was followed by a long wait in the car due to the heavy traffic.

While he was sitting in the car, he started making a mental list of all the things he would have to do to make it up to Lance.

The young man had been so happy about finally having some time off together. Despite being visibly tired, he had made some plans, and the promise of more to come once they were back home.

It was strange to think about a manor in a forest as a home for Fernando, but it wasn't home, not really, just like his own house in Monaco wasn't. It was Lance that made every single building that they were in a home.

Love-safety-protection.

But right now, he had to think on how to apologise, because Lance must have been mad as hell.

Usually, when Fernando was late, Lance would write him a text every 10 minutes until he arrived. It was his way of annoying him and still making sure he knew he cared.

Now, it had been radio silence the whole evening. He prayed Lance would let him in, even if just to take a change of clothes.

When he finally arrived, he parked the car and went to the front door.

It was strange, because it was getting dark, but he couldn't see any of the lights on.

He started feeling worried. What if Lance was so mad he left? What if he fell and knocked himself out?

He took a deep breath and opened the door.

First things first, he turned on the lights, and he was going to scream Lance's name, when he finally saw the Canadian.

He was lying on his very comfy sofa, asleep and without his shirt on, because on his chest was napping a peaceful looking blonde baby, thumb in her mouth, wrapped in a blanket, that he recognised as Lance's favourite, and protected by Lance's arm around her. Her cheek rested on his naked skin, seeking his warmth and lulled by his heart beat.

Oh.

Oh.

This tender moment, the softness of niece and uncle bundled together and asleep in the safety of a house Lance promptly opened to Fernando, it was getting to him.

He could almost see Lance with another baby, their hair brown as their eyes, grins mischievous and big smiles, crawling slowly on this same parquet, then running on some sandy beach, speaking fast English then Spanish then French then Italian, their pale skin easily turned red by the sun.

He could see them starting karting, or playing hockey, or maybe wanting nothing to do with sports.

He could see them graduating, moving out, having a family of their own, while he and Lance grew old and grey, happy and satisfied and together.

Together. It seemed impossible, but maybe it wasn't, after all.

The thoughts of a home somewhere quiet, a ring and a child filled his mind, and he softly smiled at a future now lying sleeping on a couch.

At that exact moment, the baby girl started waking up, moving her little arms and softly whining.

He could see Lance starting to wake up as well and decided to intervene. He smiled at the baby, picking her up and gently rocking her. He bent over his lover, and left a kiss in his hairline.

"Keep sleeping cariño, I got her" he whispered, melting at the sight of Lance relaxing once more and mumbling something along the lines of "safe with you".

He rose up and walked to the kitchen. There was already a bag for the baby full of clothes and diapers and baby bottles.

"Are you hungry, mi amor, or you didn't agree with waking up, uh? Your uncle is the same, don't worry" he said, while waiting to understand what she needed: that was pretty clear when she put her whole fist in her mouth.

"Hungry it is. Just give me five minutes, and don't eat your hand" he laughed softly, before sitting her on the high chair Lance had stressed over while buying.

He quickly heated up the milk, making sure it wasn't too hot before feeding it to the girl.  She hungrily took it, and made her way through it, almost finishing it all, before pulling away.

Fernando took her up, and started walking, gently tapping her back until she burped. He then cleaned her up, and returned to the living room.

The moment her eyes were on Lance, the baby tried to reach for him.

Fernando giggled and re-wrapped her in the blanket, depositing her once again on his chest.

Instinctively, Lance put his arm around the baby, and their breaths soon synchronised.

Fernando was left once again the only one awake. He decided to wait for Lance to wake up, sitting on the armchair near his head, just at touching distance. He started passing his hand through the younger man's hair, and was rewarded by a deep sigh of happiness.

Date night could wait, when they had a baby to take care of and some well deserved rest to look forward to.

[somethingsomethingwords]

Hello to everyone. I wrote this a while ago, and today it seems like a good day to post it. As always thanks for reading. Enjoy 💜.

The quake was the first evidence that something was very wrong. When Sebastian arrived at the control cabin, the air was heavy with the smell of smoke, but there was no fire in sight.

He quickly scanned the room, but all he could see were the empty seats. He shouted his partner's name, but no answer was heard.

He sprinted to his bedroom, hoping he was asleep there, but he wasn't that lucky.

The last place he wanted to search was the most probable to be occupied.

He ran toward the engine room, and there he was.

Charles sat on the floor in the middle of the room and was surrounded by cables of all sizes and materials. They hugged his legs, and some seemed to be starting to climb his chest.

Seb quickly kneeled in front of his teammate, and called his name while cupping his cheeks.

"Charles? Can you hear me?" he whispered, hoping not to be too late.

The light touch seemed to shake Charles, but when he opened his eyes, they had an unnatural metallic hue to them.

"Charles, no. It's too dangerous. Let's get you out of here" he pleaded, even if he knew what Charles was going to say.

"Too late... Danger... Protect" were the robotic words he spoke.

"Charles, please. They are not worth your life. You don't owe them this" he wanted to cry.

Charles was going to almost completely fuse with the spaceship, trying to keep it together long enough to reach safety, so that their stupid mission was successful and their idiotic scuderia could gain new information.

It had been an honour to travel under the black horsed flag. Now it was becoming his worst nightmare.

He wanted to destroy the damned ship, but knew that it would only hurt the other man further.

He didn't have saints to pray, Gods to ask for help or mercy. He only had his beloved, this foolish brave young man, and he was slowly losing him, too.

He lowered his head, feeling the tears starting to fill his eyes and fighting them, when he felt a hand on his cheek.

He suddenly raised his head, staring in two differently coloured eyes. One inhuman blue, the other that natural green he loved, that reminded him of the Earth, of sunshine and mountains and lakes. The prettiest, most wonderful colour he had ever seen.

Both eyes were now crying, even if the face had no expression.

"Not them... You, Sebee" he pronounced these words with such conviction that Seb could do nothing but stare at him, letting the tears flow.

Then Charles closed his eyes, and didn't reopen them. He fell backwards, and even more cables moved to take his chest, his arms, his head, until all Seb could see was the right side of his face.

The ship shook once again, and now he could smell the burnt flesh of his beloved. He was burning up, branding his skin for a man who never had the courage to say me too, to say I feel the same, to say I love you more than I've ever loved anything or anyone and I don't know how to handle it and I'm scared you will soon realise you could have someone better, but if you'll have me I'll never leave your side for as long as you allow me.

And now he could have lost that chance forever.

The only thing he could do was wait and hope.

It felt like years had passed, not mere hours, when Sebastian opened his eyes.

He was sitting against a wall, facing the tangle of wires that hid Charles.

He suddenly stood up when it began to recede from him, leaving his unconscious body lying there, as he hadn't spent hours being fused with the ship. It was littered in small cuts and deep burnt markings, with rings of bruises circling his neck, arms and ankles.

He ran to him, and kneeled to check his pulse. It was steady, but he probably would sleep for a few days.

So Seb picked him up, and brought him to his quarters, slightly bigger and where he could always keep an eye on the younger man.

He was right. It took Charles two full days and a half to wake up, and when he did, it was almost worse.

He only spoke French, couldn't seem to recognise Seb and cried for only the Stars knew what reason.

Seb didn't abandon him, he couldn't. So he sat through all the tears, the light punches and the mumbled words.

He sat and stayed and waited, until all energy ran out and Charles passed out again.

It was the day after, when Charles woke up properly.

He was pale, and the shadows under his eyes were deep and almost purple, but he was awake, and he wasn't going anywhere.

"Ehi, Cha. How do you feel?"

"Like I've been chewed and spat out and chewed some more, same as usual. You? The ship?"

"Everything is ok. The ship isn't reporting any damage, and I'm, well, not fine. But you are here, and that's what matters"

Charles just looked at him for a couple of seconds, then softly smiled and lifted his arm.

"Come, lie with me. We are both tired" he almost whispered, and it sent shivers down Seb's spine.

"Charles, we need to..."

"Cuddle and rest. Then, we'll do anything you want" he interrupted the blonde.

But Sebastian was a weak old man, and the few days of solitude had taken their toll. So he lied down, hugged Charles and inhaled his scent.

"Only 10 minutes"

"Mhmh" agreed the other, already half asleep.

They, in fact, slept for more than ten minutes.

[somethingsomethingwords]

One Day

Written for @somethingsomethingwords’s and their request for:

Once again, this one was written in my notes app in a frenzy. Apologies in advance for any typos.

It is raining when Lance enters Aston hospitality on Friday afternoon, the misty sort of rain that’s cold and irritating and glazes the steps in a fine layer of water that he’s busted his ass on once before. He’s not looking to repeat the humiliation, so he’s careful when he makes his way up the steps and into the building. Which is maybe why he doesn’t notice Fernando until he’s already through the doors and scuffing his shoes against the entry mat to dry them.

AirPods in, music playing, he’s doubly distracted - until a baby’s laugh pulls his attention up from where he’d been kicking loose dirt from his sneakers. There’s a lot of noises he’s come to expect from the paddock, but the gurgling giggle of an infant is not one of them.

He glances up with a confused expression, half expecting to see an engineers happy family crowded around one of the tables. Instead it is Fernando that greets him.

“Lance!” He hoists the baby higher in his arms, angles the kid so Lance is making mutually befuddled eye contact with the newborn. “Look!”

Lance looks. The baby looks back, chubby cheeked, bit of drool dripping down their chin, gripping one of Fernando’s fingers with a twitchy little hand. They’re wearing headphones bigger than their own head, green, Aston Martin logo branding the side.

Fernando’s smile is wide enough that Lance can see his dimples, the lines that form with the crinkling of his eyes. It’s wide enough that Lance’s heartbeat is thrown off kilter.

He swallows.

“Come say hello,” Fernando commands, and Lance listens. Shoes squeaking across the laminate flooring, water slicking off his raincoat and leaving a trail. There’s a couple standing next to Fernando who look a little too much like the kid. They’re wearing matching Aston merch and the lanyards that mark them as guests, fans.

“Uh, hi,” he greets them first, waving awkwardly even though he’s standing right in front of them. They don’t seem to mind, seem excited enough that he’s talking to them in the first place.

He asks them how their day has been as he slides off the raincoat and throws it over the back of a chair. Asks if they’re enjoying themselves as he puts his AirPods back in their case. Trying to be friendly in the way the socials team always hopes he will be. It’s easy to do when there’s no camera in his face and pre rehearsed talking points he’s supposed to hit.

Fernando elbows him in the ribs with the arm that’s not holding the baby, but is attached to the index finger the kid is holding tightly.

“Look at him,” he coos, in a voice Lance has never heard from him before. Something new, soft, similar to the way he talks to Chloe’s dog when he visits Lance during breaks, but different enough that Lance has to catalog it away as something new. His heart thuds again.

He has to lean to get close to the kid, close to Fernando, brushes a finger along the top of the kids fist that’s tight around Fernando’s knuckle.

He hasn’t interacted with babies much. Being the baby of the family himself and all. He had a cousin twice removed that he’d held at a family reunion once when he was fifteen, but that kid had been squirmy and crying and Lance had quickly passed him back to whatever distant aunt had handed him over in the first place. This kid seems much more mild mannered, maybe it’s the headphones muffling the noise around them, or maybe it’s just the effect Fernando has.

Fernando who keeps smiling, who’s looking over the top of the baby’s head to direct that smile at Lance. Both of them, Fernando and the kid, looking at him with big brown eyes and-

Oh.

Lance figures it’s probably a good thing he lacks the productive means to give Fernando a child. Figures he probably would have been willing to try the moment Fernando passed the baby back to his actual parents.

“He’s cute, no?” Fernando asks, shifts closer to Lance so the baby starts to reach for him instead. Lance offers his own finger, lets the kid grab it with his chubby little hand. His other hand rubs awkwardly at the kids back, a pantomime of behavior he’s seen from parents before. The baby grins at him, gummy and slobbery and babbles something.

Fernando, nonsensically, babbles back. Makes a string of noises that pulls the baby’s attention back to him and then they’re both giggling at each other.

Lance feels suddenly warm, flushes through with pure yearning and blames it on the constricting fabric of the Aston polo around his throat.

“His name is Presley,” Fernando says, turning back to Lance, like he wasn’t just speaking in senseless sounds.

It shouldn’t make Lance’s stomach do cartwheels, and yet he finds the feeling in his gut anyway. Whatever, he’s twenty-five, blame it on his ticking biological clock and the paternal nurturing he’d been comfortably raised in.

Fernando keeps smiling, and yeah, it’s not a new expression but it almost is in the way that his eyes go soft and his nose crinkles when he goes back to baby-talking with Presley. Lance can’t stop staring, can’t seem to make his heartbeat go back to normal. Can’t stop seeing a future where Presley isn’t Presley, but instead a kid of their own.

And oh. Oh. Oh no.

“Do you want kids?” He asks later, in the hotel, when they both naked and sharing the covers.

Fernando’s fingers stall the dance they’d been doing along Lance’s side pausing at his tattoo and then tracing along the Hebrew there.

“Why?” He asks, as Lance shudders at the touch, “you are pregnant?”

Lance scoffs, “Yep. Pissed on the stick last night actually. Congratulations, you are the father.”

Fernando laughs, pauses where he’d been mouthing along the line of Lance’s neck, his breath hot when he says, “Lucky me.”

In the muted light of the singular lamp they’ve left on this is simple. Lance is warm, sated, the press of Fernando’s body solid against him.

“I’m being serious though,” he presses, turns his head enough that Fernando is forced to pull away and make eye contact with him.

“Do you?”

Fernando shrugs, “Eventually, yes. Maybe.”

“Oh,” Lance says, lacking the ability to think of anything better. Something heavy settles on his chest. Fernando’s hand is quick to replace it, palm flat over his heart.

“But not now. We have time.”

We. Lance swallows. Fernando must feel the way his heartbeat thuds, mistakes it for apprehension when really it is relief at the realization that Fernando does not mean for him to be a stand-in. Realization that Fernando intends to keep him, put the comforting weight of a ring on his finger one day, maybe, build a home with him. Lance realizes he maybe wants that.

“If you want to. If not then, no, I will be okay without. I just want you.”

Lance thinks of Fernando’s smile when he’d held Presley. So raw and honest, open in a way that Lance is only used to seeing when Fernando looks at him. Or when he looks at his sister, a look reserved for family. For people he loves.

“I want to,” he says, and means it. “Eventually, yeah. You’d be a good dad.”

Lance would know, he’s somewhat of an expert in the fantastic parents department - got the team and the boyfriend to show for it.

Fernando smiles, soft, fond. His hand comes up to cup Lance’s neck in a way that is familiar.

“One day, then,” he promises.

Lance smiles back, “One day.”

After the rings of course, after he beats Fernando in a race, after tomorrow and the day after that, because they have time. Lance is, of course, already thinking about the wedding band he’s going to slide onto Fernando’s finger though. He’s always twenty steps ahead like that, drivers instincts and all.

Fernando is probably thinking the same thing.

When they kiss it is with the hint of the future. A wedding, and a shared home, and a baby’s laugh all caught up in the hotels ac kicking on. Present and future entwined with Fernando’s quiet deceleration of, ‘I love you’ that gets lost somewhere in the space they share.

[somethingsomethingwords]

Hello everybody. Long time no see, but it's been one of those months, you know. This was something I've been thinking about for a while, but I only finished it because of @nico-di-genova. So this is for you honey.

As always thanks to everyone for reading. Enjoy 💜

Everything was going great. Fernando was at a party, where people were drinking and having fun. All around him, the younger drivers were finally decompressing, enjoying the alcohol, the food and the company.

At the center of the sea of people, there was the brightest star of the night.

Lance had finally won a race, and he was celebrating as loudly as he could, sandwiched between Esteban and Mick.

He envied the joy written all over their faces, and how close they were.

He loved the sport, even after his fake retirement, even after all those years, but there was something about maiden wins that still no other win could recreate.

Jóder, soy tan viejo was thinking Nando, when someone tapped his shoulder.

"I think it's late enough, no?" asked Pierre, and it really was getting late, and the trio seemed to be losing energy.

"Yeah, sounds about right. How about we split them? I'm taking Mick, and you take your teammates?" said Lewis, already stepping towards the boys.

Pierre started following him, muttering some curses that would have made blush a sailor. Nando snorted at the scene, and looked as the Brit took the German, while the French men started bickering.

The Canadian was looking around, confused after losing his partners in crime, but then he turned towards Fernando and smiled, slowly making his way towards the Spanish.

"Hola Lancito. Want to go?" asked Nando, seeing the younger man swinging slightly on his feet.

"I lost Estie and Mickie. Où sont-ils?"

Half drunk out of his mind, and he was still worried about his friends. Lance's loyalty really knew no bounds.

"They're ok, with Lewis and Pierre. I will take you home." and with that, he placed his hand on the younger's lower back.

The reaction was immediate. Lance's whole body shivered and pressed against his side, lowering his head on the shorter man's shoulder.

"Too loud. Je veux du silence"

"Oui mon amour. Let's go somewhere quiet" his French was heavily accented, but Lance seemed satisfied enough.

Nando guided the other man to his car, and drove them to their shared hotel, while Lance napped with his face against the window and his neck in a weird position.

When they arrived, Fernando struggled a little to wake the other enough to put him vertically in the elevator and walk to his room. At the door, Lance refused to lean against the doorframe, and settled only when he was hugging Fernando. "Warm" was the only word he said.

"Lance, I need the key"  Fernando spoke softly.

"Poche" just answered the taller man, with no visible intention to loosen the embrace.

Fernando tried to be respectful, and to not feel the solid curve pressed against his hand. He soon found the key in his back pocket, and opened the door.

Once they were both in, he quickly realised that Lance would not move further, so he just put him on the bed, and went to take a glass and fill it with water.

Returning to the bedroom, he found Lance half naked.

"Where are your pants?" he asked, voice an octave too high, almost dropping the glass, before setting it on a nightstand.

"Lost them. Too hot" he shrugged.

Then, even more bafflingly, he started giggling.

"What is now?" he asked, fondly looking as Lance tried to take off his shirt without opening a single button. He succeeded, but his hair was now a fluffy mess.

"You remind me of Nano"

The use of his nickname surprised Fernando. The younger man refused using it, always sticking with his full name. Then the absurdity of it all hit him, and he started giggling as well.

"Ah, sì? How so?"

He was getting curious, sue him.

"It's your voice. It's soft and warm. Would listen for hours"

Fernando wasn't expecting this answer, but it melted his heart anyway.

"Mhhh. Then want a bedtime story?"

Any more time spent with Lance was a gift and a surprise wrapped in wonder. He was not going to deny himself this experience, even only for blackmail reasons. Jokingly, he was done with mind games and tricks. He would never do them again, especially not against Lance.

"Nah. A secret"

"A secret, mh? Let's trade. You tell me, I tell you" if Fernando was going to indulge him, at least it was going to be funny.

"Ça va...Ah, oui, daccord, j'en ai un. I like him so much" and then started giggling again.

Fernando felt like all of his body had gone stone cold, and couldn't move a muscle. He couldn't believe what the other told him. But before he could say anything, Lance nestled in the sheets, and softly said while closing his eyes:

"I like him soooooo much, even if he doesn't feel the same. It's ok, don't think I'd deserve him. What we have, it's special. It is enough"

And with this, he was done for the day.

And he wasn't the only one. Fernando felt like he was going to explode, too many thoughts in his head and words on his tongue, with no one to talk to. He could feel his hair turning gray.

But a single look to that peaceful face, and his heart stopped beating erratically. Everything was going to be alright. They could face this together.

This and more, hopefully.

They were going to solve this tangled mess, but first they both needed to rest.

So he left a note for Lance, simply writing "Call me in the morning. -FA" on a piece of paper and leaving it on top of Lance's phone, where he was sure the other man would see it, and then he left the room, dreaming of his own bed and a restful night of sleep.

---

He was never going to win another GP ever again, if the results were the pounding headache and the rancid taste in his mouth.

He slowly opened his eyes, careful of the half opened blinds, and looked around.

Thanks to some sort of divine intervention, he had made it to the hotel safe and sound.

He got up and went to the bathroom, peeing, washing his face and brushing his teeth.

When he came back to the bedroom, he started looking for his phone. He almost missed it, but then noticed it was just half covered by a yellow post-it. It simply said "Call me in the morning. -FA".

Ok, so he probably would have to thank Fernando for making it to his bed unscathed. He tried to think about the night before, especially trying to remember his interaction with the Spanish driver.

At first, he couldn't remember anything out of the ordinary, then it hit him.

An echo of his own giggle, soft brown eyes, the whisper of a "like him so much".

Oh, no.

Oh no.

He had done it. He confessed, and now Fernando was going to be overly amused about it. Or overly nice, and Lance didn't know what was worse.

Rejection was always a bitch, but basically having to live with your unrequited crush for 24 week-ends? That was going to be a nightmare to go through for all parts involved.

Or maybe just for Lance, with his stupid feelings and his too-hopeful heart.

Ugh, Lance just didn't know what to do.

On one hand, he wanted to call Fernando and be done with all of this. On the other, he wanted to pretend nothing happened, and everything was fine and normal and good.

He sighed, because deep down he knew he was going to have to talk with Fernando, if he liked it or not.

Ok, let's analyze. He knows I like him, and still wants to talk to me. So, he is going to reject me kindly, at least. Ok, we can totally take it like champs. Basic rule still applied: no tears in front of him. It should be quick and painless. Ok, we can do this.

So he took his time in the shower, and ordered a healthy if slightly generous breakfast.

When he was done, he brushed his teeth, wore his comfort hoodie and left his room in a controlled chaos.

One mess at a time: first his love life, then his room.

He knew that Fernando's room was the one across from his, so he didn't even bother calling. He simply knocked.

When the door opened, Lance was sure he had hit his head badly the night before. Maybe the possible concussion and heavy hepatic failure led him to an early grave.

But if death meant he could get to see a still semi-wet Nando, covered just by a tiny towel low on his hips, well, he lived a rich and full life, if a little short.

He could feel himself staring, but also couldn't take his eyes off the view.

He just waited for the self-combustion to take him.

Then he heard a light chuckle, and a hand gently gripped his sleeve, pulling him inside.

When the subject of his awe turned his back on him, walking to the adjacent kitchenette, his brain seemed to be back online.

He shook his head and closed the door behind himself like a particularly stupid rabbit that voluntarily enters the den of a particularly fascinating fox.

Fernando must have known how nervous he was feeling, because he gave him a glass of water and led him to the couch.

"Wait here, I'll be right back" said the Spanish man, leaving Lance alone, stunned and with the glass still in his hand.

You're being ridiculous, grow a pair and just talk like the adult you supposedly are, a voice in his head that sounded like his sister's gently scolded him.

He drank the water while waiting, and felt slightly better.

When Fernando re-entered the room, calm and collected and clothed, Lance waited until he was seated before looking him in the eyes and starting speaking.

"Thank you for last night. For bringing me here safely, I mean"

Not the smoother transition ever, but Fernando had to be used to how stilted he sounded, and would appreciate it anyway.

"No need to. We are friends, no?" he asked with something in his eyes that Lance couldn't describe, but that made him want to talk more.

"About that... I also wanted to say sorry if I said something weird yesterday"

See Chloe? He was actually talking about things that embarrassed him instead of forever avoiding them. Well, not really being super specific, but small progress was still progress.

"Hmm... And what are you referring to?"

The bastard was actually going to make him say the words. Well, in for a penny...

"That I like you"

Lance could feel his cheeks heating up and could no longer stand Fernando's gaze, so he moved his eyes until he was watching a particularly boring patch of carpet.

"Lance, look at me"

It only took those four words, spoken in a tone so gentle and warm to bring Lance's eyes back to Fernando's.

"Why are you apologizing? Did you lie?" he asked softly.

"No" he half shouted, and then flinched because of the reaction. "No, I do like you" he said, exhaling.

"Then what are you apologizing for?"

Fernando could be soft when he wanted, but that didn't stop him from being stubborn.

"I didn't want to offend you" and also didn't want you to really know, because it's embarrassing and you deserve better and I can't be normal about this nor you.

He didn't say the words, but Fernando must have been able to hear them anyway, because he responded firmly.

"You didn't"

That lifted a huge weight from Lance's shoulders. Maybe this partnership could still be saved.

"Ok. Good, I'm glad" he was being awkward and subtly twisting his fingers. But nothing escaped Fernando's attention.

Seeing how the younger man was spiralling in his own thoughts, he didn't hesitate, reaching out to him and taking a hold of his hands.

"There is no need to be nervous. Just tell me again, tell me properly"

Lance could see in his eyes the want and the patience and something else.

They were in this together, he suddenly realised.

You are not alone anymore, said his mental Chloe.

He inhaled as much air as he could, held it and then exhaled. He found the strength he needed in a pair of brown eyes that were already looking in his own.

"I've been wanting to tell you for so long. I like you. I like how you drive, how you give feedback on the car and how you are always, no matter what, the best. But that's just racing stuff. I like how you compliment me, how you never made me feel less than, or just a spoiled kid, how you make me feel. But those are selfish reasons. I like how kind you are with kids, how ready you are to help any of the other drivers. But most importantly, I like you, Fernando Alonso, two times world champion, menace on and off track, mentor and teammate and friend and so much more. I like you, Nando"

He barely finished talking that there was a pair of lips on his own, soft and warm and gentle.

He realised he closed his eyes only when he opened them, and in front was Fernando, bright and shining and perfect in every way that mattered. To Lance, at least.

"You made me wait a long time, no? Let's not waste anymore" he said before diving in a second kiss that was hot and passionate and demanding.

Fernando broke the kiss and stood up, starting to walk, and Lance could only follow the man leading him towards his bed, and towards a life together.

[somethingsomethingwords]

Hello guys (gnc). Do any of you remember, or even care anymore, about these three bad boys? Yeah, this is the sequel. They are not really needed for you to understand this, but they do give context. As always, thanks to everyone who reads. Enjoy 💜

Ok, so maybe the distance thing wasn't as smart as initially thought.

It did give Lance the time to think clearly and the space to breathe. It also gave insomnia and the feeling of lack of warmth.

So, desperate times call for desperate measures. After that hellish race, 14 hours of travel and barely 36 of being in Canada, he was being driven to the airport, the sun already set and the lights on.

He was fidgeting with his phone, unlocking and relocking it, thinking about sending a quick message to the object of his thoughts.

Fernando had told him to let him know when he landed in Spain, but his thoughts were telling him it would have been a bother to the older man.

Logically, he knew he was going to Spain for the sole purpose of being with Nando, that Nando himself had invited him, but his brain stilled his hands.

So he took the time of the ride to calm himself.

A phone call wasn't exactly in his mind. Nando would have heard his distressed voice and the last thing Lance needed was to appear more pathetic than what he was already feeling.

So, after having passed the security line, he arrived at his gate. He still had half an hour before the flight, so he sat down, anonymous clothes and baseball cap firmly on his head, and started typing.

"hi, sorry if this is last minute, but I'm leaving Montreal, I'll be in Madrid in 12 hours"

Ok, that didn't sound horrible, nor too forward. Just informational enough. Good, safe.

Knowing Fernando, who was never apart for long from his phone, Lance expected him to answer in a few minutes.

When he stopped to think, he realised it was currently 2 in the morning in Spain.

Fuck, he'd already fucked up. He didn't want to wake up Fernando for something silly as his flight, but the thought of Fernando waking in the morning and finding his message and being exasperated, maybe even annoyed by it was just as bad.

He was spiralling so much that didn't notice both the ping from his phone and the last call for his flight. In fact he almost missed it, but was lucky enough to see the hostess almost closing it, and ran towards her, shoving his phone in the back pocket of his jeans.

She took pity of his sorry state, and made him board anyway.

Lance was so stressed by the situation that he only really settled when the plane was already flying.

Only then he took his phone out of his pocket and saw the message notification.

This is a nightmare he thought, as he read the message Fernando had sent him not even five minutes after his own.

"u 📗 the ✈️ for Asturias?"

The emoji were hilarious and helped calm him down.

Fernando could be silly, but most importantly, he understood Lance. He understood him better than Esteban, than his sister and sometimes even better than himself. He knew how hard words could be for him, how a mix of shyness and anxiety could hold him back.

He knew, and still accepted it. Still accepted him.

Despite the altitude and the locked doors, it seemed like a kaleidoscope of butterflies had taken residence inside Lance's stomach.

With a smile on his face, a little bit redder than before, he let himself doze off at the thoughts of bright days and warm arms.

-

Lance used his stopover in Paris to buy some sweets and wine for Nando. His mother had taught him well, and he was already invading Fernando's house, he wasn't going to show up empty-handed.

After finding and sitting at his gate, he quickly unlocked his phone.

On the screen appeared a new notification for a message sent 6 hours prior.

"Lancito? U ok?"

He giggled at his nickname, and quickly responded.

"yeah,sorry,just completely fell asleep on the plane, I'm in Paris, one hour and I'll leave"

Not even 5 seconds later, the phone started ringing. Did this man even have the time to read his text?

He settled in his seat, a smile spreading on his face while he brought the phone to his ear.

"Hola Nando. ¿Cómo estás?"

"Ahora mejor. Buenos días Lancito. How was the flight?"

"I slept the whole time. How is your morning going?"

"Well, stayed up too late. But woke up with your message, so is all good"

Lance could feel his cheeks growing redder and hotter.

Before he could even begin to find a reply, his flight was called.

"Ok, so I'm boarding right now, and I'll land in Madrid and then I'll take the plane for Asturias. I'll see you at the airport?" He asked, praying to see the other man as soon as possible.

"Of course, cariño. I'll see you there"

They said their goodbyes, both dying from the necessity to be near each other.

-

Fernando had always been impatient. With a personality like his, and a job where speed was the most important requirement, nobody could fault him if he didn't like to wait.

What the years had taught him, though, was that sometimes, there are some things that are worth waiting for.

Like that damned 33.

Like a long hot shower after a busy day spent in the mountains, surrounded by snow.

Like Lance.

He could admit to himself that, after the Qatar incident, he had been slowly losing his mind.

Lance had been so vulnerable and honest, it had pained him to leave as if nothing happened. But he understood and respected Lance and his choices.

And most importantly, he knew that even if they didn't see each other during the two weeks break, they would still find each other.

So he spent the first 36 hours being restless, then scolding himself for being so impatient, and then getting lost in his thoughts of soft brown hair and even softer brown eyes.

The cycle was getting to him. He found himself sleeping only a few hours the previous night, and even then he was easily woken up by the sound of the wind passing through the branches of the trees outside his window.

So it wasn't a surprise, when the light vibration of his phone on his night stand roused him.

After managing to not blind himself, he smiled when he saw the sweet update from Lance.

After sending one massage and not being responded to, he sent another one.

He was now fully awake, going back and forth between his bedroom and the kitchen.

When he started calculating how long the trip would be to the Madrid airport, and simply go and pick up Lance, he realised he was becoming insufferable even to himself.

So he forced his body to stop and inhale a deep breath.

There were a million reasons why Lance wasn't answering him. It didn't mean he was ignoring him (he was literally coming to his home to... hang out and stuff, question mark) or something bad happened (unknowable, but no news channel had reported any plane crush; he had checked multiple times, in at least 4 different languages).

Lance was probably sleeping. A bit early if his timezones calculations were right, but at least in this way he could avoid being jetlagged and too tired later on.

Smart boy he thought to himself, fond and proud in equal measure.

Reassured by these thoughts, he finally went back to his bed, and enjoyed the rather few but at least restful hours, before being woken up again by his phone.

When he read the message, he put together that Lance must have landed for his stopover and was now free.

So he didn't waste any time, and thanking his quick reflexes, he pressed the call button.

Lance's voice was like honey for his ears. He sounded well rested and impatient to see him, and Fernando couldn't help but feel the same.

He couldn't wait to have Lance in his arms again.

-

The two successive flights passed in a blur of nervousness and impatience.

When he finally landed to the Asturias airport, he could feel the vibrations running through his body.

He waited anxiously for his luggage on the baggage carousel and took it with shaky hands.

He really should calm himself, but he just couldn't.

The Spanish man was ecstatic to see him. Lance had to control the urge to run to him.

Then he stepped out of the doors, and the first face that he saw, already staring in his direction, was Fernando's.

Oh, was the only thought in his mind, now still and placid like the sea in a calm day at the beach.

He walked at a normal pace, but allowed himself to engulf the shorter man in a long and heartfelt hug.

With every second, he could feel his body relaxing more and more, the nerves leaving him with only the gentle flutter of wings in his stomach.

He disentangled his arms, and really looked at the man in front of him. He seemed to shine with the power of a thousand suns, his smile blinding and his eyes warm. Lance couldn't look away, taking long seconds to enjoy the view and the presence of the other.

They stayed quiet, until Lance's stomach grumbled, evidently empty apart from the butterflies.

As Lance blushed slightly, Fernando grinned but held out his hand.

"Come, lunch is ready. Let's go home" he said, smiling gently.

"Yeah, let's go home"

[somethingsomethingwords]

Hello y'all. Here's another little thing I wrote. This time it's just dialogue, because why not ig. Lance is not kind to himself in this one, but that's what Fernando is there to do. Enjoy 💜.

"You know I like you, right?"

"... What?"

"You know I like you, right?"

"I mean, I surely hope so after what we have done tonight"

"No, what we do is great, but I like you"

"I'm... really not following"

"Lance, you're not just a pretty face or a bed warmer, you are more to me, yes?"

"Oh, I didn't think..."

"Why, because am the bad guy? Just using the innocent boy?"

"Ok, first of all calm down, I'm anything but innocent. Second, I know how I am. I didn't think anyone would like me"

"Lance, what are you saying?"

"I mean, I have Esteban and Mick, and I have friends, but I never thought you would like me"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Mhhhh, because I'm the spoiler kid who you are literally paid to endure?"

"LANCE, is that how you see me?"

"No, of course no. You are Fernando Alonso, 2 times world champion, hungry and focused and magnificent"

"So, is that how you see yourself?"

"I mean, that's who I am, no?"

"No Lance, not even close. You're wonderful, and full of talent, and kind and brave"

"I don't understand, we are already fucking, so why are you trying to butter me up?

"Cariño, this is not about the bed. This is about who you are"

"Am I not my father's son? Or the kid who gets what he wants easily? They are right about me, you know it"

"No Lance, they don't know the real you. They don't know that every father would do what Lawrence does, if they could. They don't know how hard you work and how hard you are on yourself. They don't know shit. And if you think they do, you also don't know shit"

"Oh and tell me, oh mighty one, what is it that I don't know?"

"You don't realise how lovely you are, and how easy is to love you"

"If I was, there would be proof. But there is none, so..."

"Just because other people are shitty, doesn't mean it's on you"

"Ever considered I am the shitty one?"

"Never, not for one second"

"Why?"

"Because I see you, even when you hide yourself, when you lose yourself, when you don't know anymore. I'm always there"

"You really are, aren't you? But why?"

"Because I love you"

"Don't play with me, Nando. It's one thing to think I have some redeeming qualities, it's another to lie"

"There is nothing to be redeemed. And am not lying"

"I don't believe you"

"You really mean you can't believe me. But that's ok. I am patient. I can wait for you, and in the meantime show my love for you"

"I don't know if I can..."

"Is ok. We have all the time in the world to figure it out, no?"

"Yeah, I guess so"

-

"You know I like you too, right?"

"Mhhh?"

"The other day? We moved past it, but I wanted you to know that I really really like you"

"Ah, is it so?"

"You don't have to be a dick about it. But yeah, I like spending time with you, I like talking with you, I like sleeping with you. Yeah, both ways, not just sex you asshole"

"Wasn't going to say anything"

"Sure you weren't. Anyway, I just wanted to say it explicitly. I like you"

"You are the sweetest, Lancito. Come here, and show me how much"

"Right now it's close to zero"

"Of course it is. What about now?"

"Co... compelling argument. Tell me more?"

"Claro que sí"

-

"So, that was intense"

"Yep"

"...Is it too soon to say I love you"

"Probably, but who cares. Tell me"

"I love you. For a million reasons, but mostly because you are you, and I am who I am"

"M... Would you believe it?"

"What?"

"I love you for the exact same reasons"

[somethingsomethingwords]

Good whatever-time-of-the-day-is-over-there. Here's a new thing. I played a little with their characterisation in this one. Stay safe out there. Enjoy 💜

Lance is bothered. And what's worse, Fernando is bothered that Lance is bothered. Not that caring about someone is wrong or strange and, while personally it isn't his MO, neither is caring about your teammates.

No, Fernando cares because of reasons that are still not clear. And that's what is driving him mad. And also the frown on Lance's face, but he'll face one problem at a time.

First point on the list, why does he care about this kid.

It had been easy signing the contract, even when Lawrence had heavily hinted at his mentor's duties.

He obviously had heard about Lawrence's son, about his achievements in the minor categories, and his average results in Formula 1.

And he couldn't escape the rumours about his rich spoiled kid behaviour, his lack of a strong personality or his evident disinterest in the sport.

Hell, he had even met the guy in the paddock before arriving at Aston Martin.

And then he met Lance, with his goofy smile, his sweet personality, his seriousness about the job, the fire that burnt when getting inside the car and the evident hard created persona for the media that completely melted when in private, the spark of a prankster spirit with Mick and Esteban.

(Ugh, he already couldn't stand the Frenchman when they were teammates, and now it was even worse when he saw how close the two young men were.)

The point is, when he started he didn't think highly of baby Stroll, and now here he is, knocking on the door of Lance's hotel room, because there is something wrong with the Canadian, and that meant Fernando cares because. Just. Because.

So, here he is, ready to find out what's going on.

He hears some muffled words behind the door, and then it's opened by Lance, his hair really messy and his shorts really short.

He is slowly losing his mind, when the younger one starts talking.

"Hey, Fernando. Do you come here often?" he says, languid and with those big doe eyes of his.

Fernando is completely baffled. They don't flirt, that's not how they are. He is usually the one that lightly teases Lance, just to see him blushing, and jokes around, just to see his smile and make sure that he is happy, but nothing more than that. He doesn't understand this sudden change.

Lance must see his confusion on his face, because he chuckles and shakes his head.

"Sorry, just the painkillers, they are kicking my ass. Also I'm tired as fuck and I'm really thirsty" he says, with an adorable snort.

Lance isn't exactly shy, but he has always seemed to like keeping to himself, and to contribute to a conversation rather than starting it. All this openness and honesty are very surprising, and somehow even a little bit worrying.

"Don't worry. You ok?"

And Fernando is winning dumbest person ever, because the answer is staring right at him, eyes glassy and unnaturally red cheeks, the aura of sweat and sick all over Lance. But the younger doesn't stop smiling.

"Yeah, it's all good, just high temperature and sore wrists"

And that's what Fernando had first noticed. Lance had been particularly careful with his wrists all day, never actually wrapping them in bandages, but massaging and rubbing them continuously, discomfort clear on his face.

ok, now you know, now you can leave he thinks, but something won't make him move. He had always been attentive, after all.

"You have a fever?" he asks, starting to worry.

Lance shrugs, but everything about him is screaming tired and sick.

"It's nothing serious, really" as he says this, Lance has to grip the door because of the sudden dizziness.

Fernando, now seriously worrying, just stares at him, until the other sighs.

"Ok, it may be a little bit serious, but everything is fine. I just need some sleep. Goodnight" and goes to close the door, but Fernando is faster. He puts his foot in between the door and its frame.

"Let me help you" he simply says.

He finds himself being looked through as if he was inconsistent by Lance's unfocused eyes. And then they refocus, and they are starting deep into his soul.

"Why?" Lance says simply, and Fernando feels like this is a test. Lance won't let him in if he fails, and Fernando has no intention of failing.

"Can see you're not well. Want to help. Because... I care" the admission tears something in him, something that has been hardened after all the years on track. Something that starts feeling warm and light and bright when Lance smiles softly and lets him in.

He enters and then closes the door, leaving behind the last vestiges of embarrassment and doubt. He has a job, a mission, and he won't make mistakes nor disappoint.

Looking around, the only sign of life is the crumpled blanket on the couch.

"You were sleeping on that?" ask Fernando, looking at the small sofa and his tall teammate.

"It was closer to the door" answers the other, shrugging again.

"Must have been uncomfortable" because even if it was of the right size, which it wasn't, it still looks stiff and leather cold.

"What's a little more pain when your whole body tingles and your wrists feel on fire?"

It's the simplicity with which Lance speaks, as if nothing bothers him, as if pain is inevitable and he shouldn't complain. That doesn't sit right with Fernando. Lance deserves the world's softest blankets, its warmest beds and its coziest socks. Fernando could give him everything. Fernando wants to give him everything. That's terrifying. But admitting it is also freeing, somehow.

soul shattering revelations later, nurse duty now he thinks, not without fondness.

Fernando follows Lance to his bed, and when the taller man just falls into the bed, not bothering with his clothes or the sheets, Nando realises he's going to have to work hard. He's always loved a good challenge.

Fernando reaches for the other's luggage, easily finding his pajama and fresh underwear. Then he returns to the side of the bed.

"Now, get up. Take a shower, dry, new clothes and bed. Can you do it?"

He infuses a bit of a challenge at the end, just to rile the man up.

What he doesn't expect is Lance's laugh at his words.

"Dude, I can't feel my legs. I'm not gonna reach the bathroom on them. I think I'll just skip everything and just go to bed" he says, burrowing further into the covers, which still aren't actually covering him.

"Ok, I'll help you" he says, as if it's something they do normally.

Fernando basically drags Lance to the bathroom, sitting him on the closed lid of the toilet. When he looks at Lance's face, he worries. It is redder than before, and his eyes are strangely focused on his arm for no apparent reason.

"Lance, everything ok?" he is starting to feel like a mother hen, but Lance's behaviour is really messing him up. And his answer really doesn't help.

"So strong" says Lance, completely spaced out and lightly stroking his bicep.

The caress is absolutely doing nothing to him, no sir.

Fernando gently takes Lance's hand, and waits until his eyes are focused on him.

"It's ok. Just a quick shower and then to bed, no?"

Lance nods, but Fernando can tell he's not completely there. So he quickly removes his clothes, leaving the underwear, and after turning on the water at a lukewarm temperature, he guides him into the bath.

It's not even ten seconds later that Lance starts shaking. Fernando is immediately grabbing his hand.

"What's going on, Lance? What's wrong?"

"The water... Is hot... It hurts" he is shivering and biting his bottom lip so hard Fernando can already see blood.

"Lance I need you to listen to me. The water is not hot. Your body is not feeling it right. Let me wash you and then it's the bed" he says, feeling like he is kicking a puppy, but he knows the lukewarm bath will help Lance in the long run. So he washes him as fast as he can, and then turns off the water. He starts wrapping the younger man in the preheated towel, gentle and careful.

He can see the other is losing himself faster than he'd like. So, when Lance seems dry enough, he wastes no time taking off his boxers and putting on a new pair, without peeking, he swears.

All dressed up, he carries him to the bed, where the other can finally sleep under the covers. He's just about to go get Lance some water, when the other starts.

"Thank you,,, for being here,,, but don't leave,,, it hurts" he says with his eyes closed and a pained frown, his breath moving his chest with a staccato rhythm.

Fernando kneels on the floor, so he is face to face with Lance, and starts stroking his hair.

"Am not leaving. Just going to get some water, then we sleep. I know it hurts, but it's going to be ok. Trust me" and the last sentence came out more like a question, and he worries for a second. Then he sees the other relax before opening his eyes and looking him in the eyes, whispering "Always" and closing them.

Fernando feels a weight lifting from his chest, but also a growing responsibility. For the first time in a while, he isn't scared of committing to whatever this is.

He shakes his head, a soft smile gracing his face, before standing up and retrieving two bottles of water from the mini fridge in the kitchenette.

He deposits them, one on each of the nightstands, and lies on the free side of the bed.

He tries to keep a modicum of distance, but Lance is having none of it. He simply turns towards him, and hugs him, reminding Nando of an overgrown squid.

He is out like a light in five seconds flat.

cute, he thinks, and for the first time in what seems like months of their dance, Fernando allows himself to properly drink Lance's sight, his long eyelashes and his strong nose and his pink mouth, slightly open in his sleep. He allows himself to think about how he likes being with the other man, how he likes to make him laugh, how he can't stand seeing him upset.

He allows himself to simply be, to simply feel whatever he feels for Lance. And it feels good.

[somethingsomethingwords]

Ok so, here is another one. This is a little bit different from what I usually write or even like reading, but alas, sometimes an idea just enters your brain and just doesn't leave. Also this one has a title ig. So here it is. I hope you'll like it. Enjoy 💜

Of course I wanted you to stay

(but you didn't, no you didn't, no you didn't)

Lance was so full of adrenaline he almost dropped the mic. He was shaking from head to toe, but there was a huge grin on his face.

There was no sadness, because even if this was the last concert of the tour, it had been one of his best ones like, ever.

Also he was home, so he knew that after all the crazy partying he would do tonight, tomorrow he'd meet his sister, he'd go to that bakery that sells the best cupcakes, and he'd be able to roam the streets with his thick glasses and ugly beanie and scarf combos, and no one would recognise him.

But still, that's tomorrow. In that moment, there was the encore.

It was always different, so it was always special, but that day even more so. It was composed of three of his older songs, about pain and heartache and moving on despite the past, maybe in spite of it. He loved it very much. Because he was home, singing his first hits and he was ending one of the happiest and saddest tours of his life.

It had started great, new album, in love and energetic. Then he was left behind, alone and with nothing to show for it. Because it had to stay a secret. He had to keep his love secret. He had had no one to complain to, because the only people who knew would have been put in an uncomfortable situation, and he didn't want that. So he hid his hurt and did what he always did. He put it in his music. He sang his pain until the only hurt he could feel was the one in his throat.

It really had been a rollercoaster. But now it was the end, everything was better, and he wanted to send a last fuck you. He may have matured, but nothing would make him lose his pettiness.

So he sang.

Are you sorry like you weren't at the time?

Loving you was easy,

that's why it hurts now

The worst way to love somebody

is to watch them love somebody else

and it works out now

And sang.

Cause someone loved me,

someone fucking loved me

Someone fucking loved me,

I loved him too

Goddamn it, I was worth something,

I fuckin' earned something

I have a right to die, a right to live,

a right to choose, too. And God, no!

Of course I don't wanna feel better!

Can you fucking imagine?!

And sang.

Because, in the end,

you can see how much I loved you

from the fact that I'm fine now

It's a lie, but I say it anyhow

He put every single emotion into these songs, and finally let them go.

When the crowd roared, it all exploded.

He felt a solitary tear wet his face, but nothing could have stolen his smile. He waited for his band, then bowed and left the stage.

The night was young and he was feeling free and wild. And quite hungry, actually.

So he took his band to his favourite pub. They ate, and drank, and ate some more.

On the taxi towards his house, Lance realised that, no matter how much it had hurt, he didn't regret having what he had with Fernando.

Even the tears, even the heartbreak, they all shaped the person he was today.

He liked to think he was loyal, and dependable and kind. But most importantly, he liked to think he was better than the person he was yesterday.

His house appeared, and after paying and tipping the taxi driver, he opened the door.

Yeah, it was big and a little bit empty and a little bit cold. A little bit like his heart. But it was something to be proud of, because it was his, and he was working on it.

---

The next day he really started to rethink all of this rock star thing.

His head pounded with his heartbeat and his mouth tasted rancid.

He got up and drank some water, downing a couple of aspirins for his headache.

After the shower he felt somewhat normal, and decided to go out for breakfast.

He reached his favourite bakery and ordered two pastries to go. He wanted to retreat and lay warmly in front of the fireplace.

Lance noticed him as soon as he stepped out, but he decided to ignore him. His house wasn't that far, he could reach it quickly and without having to talk to him. For once, he wanted to thank whoever made him with long legs.

But even if he could go fast without running, so could the other.

They walked in silence, side by side, for a few minutes.

When the silence and the presence were getting to him, he abruptly stopped and turned towards the other man.

"What do you want?"

Fernando didn't deserve kindness nor gentleness. He forfeited those when he left Lance. Via text. Without explanation and blocking him immediately after.

Lance had spent too many days crying; now he wanted nothing to do with the man.

"Hello Lance. Was just around" he said, as if it explained why he was in Canada and not in England, in Monaco, hell even at home in Spain.

Lance huffed and started moving again, having had more than enough, but stopped when he felt a firm grip on his wrist.

He stared at the hand on his arm with wide eyes, before raising them to Nando's face.

"You have three seconds to either take your hand off or have it broken" he said shakily.

There must have been something in his voice that made the threat a real one, because suddenly he was free again.

"Lance, am sor..." Nando started.

"Shut up before I make you. We can't discuss here, someone could recognise you. Come to my house" surely not his finest moment, but all Lance could feel was fury. Still, he wasn't raising his voice, so he could consider it a win.

you are still protecting him, Este's voice said in his mind.

shut up, of course I am, but what else could he do?

They arrived at his house. He quickly opened the door and closed it when Fernando got in.

"You have no right to come here with your flimsy excuse and expect me to be ok with it. Now, tell me what you want and get the hell out of my house" there, simple and direct.

For a moment, Fernando seemed seriously sorry. But Lance didn't care. He was the one left behind, the one who had to pick up his pieces when he fell apart. He healed as best as he could, and he would not apologise for building up his defences.

"Lance, I am really sorry, for what's worth. I want to explain"

"You are a few months too late. At this point, I don't even know if I care. I only ever asked one thing, Alonso. One. I was ok with being kept a secret, and avoiding being seen together, and the distance. I only asked you to openly communicate and shit like that. You just left without a word" now that he had started, he couldn't seem to stop.

"You knew, I told you why I wanted that. Why I needed you to be honest and open, yet you just disappeared. I had to ask Este, who had to ask Mick. And for what. To be told that you had a new model girlfriend? So no, Alonso, I don't care anymore. It would just reopen old wounds. Now go, I'm sure you have somewhere else to be"

and someone else to be with, it wasn't said but both could hear it.

"That's not right. I have nowhere to go. Am alone, Lance" he said, something hurt and teary in his voice.

Lance was about to replicate, sharp words already on the tip of his tongue, when something in Nando's expression made him stop. His eyes showed how open he was being, how vulnerable.

Lance sighed, and led the man into the living room, making him sit on the couch, while he went into the kitchen and brought back two glasses of water. He would have preferred something stronger, but this felt too important of a moment to have it tainted by alcohol and not being in the right mind.

He sat on the opposite side of the couch, and waited for the other to start talking.

"First of all, am sorry, really. I knew it would hurt you, how I left you, but I did it anyway. And I know you have no reason to believe me or care. Am here because I believe you deserve the truth about everything"

He seemed honest, but Lance wouldn't trust him so easily, not again.

"What are you hoping for with your confession months later, mh? I'm not going to obediently come back to you, waiting to be heartbroken again. You're not gonna fuck me and leave, either. So, what do you want?" he was probably being unfair to the other man, but anger and confusion had never been a good mix of emotions for him.

"Lance, I would never..."

"Like you would never leave, Alonso? Don't make promises you can't keep and don't say things you don't mean" he interrupted, harsh and stubborn.

"You are right. I made promises and then I broke them and betrayed your trust. But I need you to know I had reasons. Not perfect, not good, but I had them" and goddamnit, Lance could feel himself beginning to soften.

just listen to him, said his conscience, suspiciously sounding like Mick.

"Would you care to explain them?" Was he being sarcastic or curious? He himself didn't know.

"Of course. Someone was starting to notice some...changes in me. I was happier, nicer, smiled more. Someone I don't like said something in a way I didn't like. Made me understand that he knew something was up, and would ruin me. So I decided that I needed to protect myself, to protect you. Left you because I couldn't see you. I knew I'm not strong enough to leave you if I saw you"

It all sounded logical, from a certain point of view, but Lance knew there was more, so he waited for the other to continue.

After a few seconds, Fernando raised his eyes, looking at Lance, before turning them down again.

"I didn't like the weakness. All the time, I was thinking about you, wanted you near. It was too much. So I thought I could just stay away, and forget about it"

about you, was left unsaid.

"And can you? Forget about it?" Lance not only wanted to know. He needed to, before going on with the conversation. He could feel his hands beginning to shake and his eyes starting to water, but he had to be sure.

Fernando immediately raised his eyes, and spoke with a tone determined and something like hope in his eyes.

"Of course I can't. I'm here right now, begging for a second chance" he said pleadingly.

"Then beg" Lance said, not meanly, but he also wasn't feeling particularly charitable, and it was better to make some things clear from the beginning: he wasn't going to repeat the same mistakes. He wasn't the young man staring at his teen crush, starry eyed and in love and grateful for every scrap of attention and affection. He was older, maybe a little bit more bitter, a little bit wiser. Fernando left some marks onto his heart, and he wasn't going to refresh them for nothing less than certainty.

"Lance, please give me another chance. I know I fucked up, was so wrong. I'm begging you, let me fix this. However long it takes, is ok. Just, tell me you'll think about forgiving me, and starting again" he was being so earnest, how could Lance resist?

"Even if I forgive you, and it's a big if, I'm not going to forget anytime soon, ok? I'll need time and space and for you to make an effort" he really was weak for this man, but who could blame him, he spent half his childhood idolizing him and then he met him and fell in love.

"Will do whatever it takes. But let me, please"

Realising all the air stuck in his lungs, Lance sighed.

"Ok"

He didn't even finish the word that Fernando picked him up and spun Lance around, making him laugh despite himself.

Fernando finally put him down, and took his hand to kiss it, maintaining the eye contact for a few seconds.

Lance could feel himself blushing, and quickly shook his head, still smiling.

After a few seconds of just getting reacquainted with one another, Fernando broke the silence.

"I liked the show yesterday. Especially the encore"

And now Lance was definitely blushing. His encore had been designed as a way of finally letting go, one last screw you to the man now in front of him. But he couldn't say that to him, even if it was pretty clear.

It would have been childish to throw shades at Fernando in one of his concerts, no?

"Yeah, I was inspired, I guess" his smile smaller but still there.

"Fuck the guy who made you suffer, the bastard" and in his jokingly way, Nando was telling him that he wasn't angry, and that they would be ok.

"Yeah, fuck him"

[somethingsomethingwords]

So, this is the third and last part of this. I really loved writing it and sharing it, and I hope y'all like it too. Enjoy 💜

His eyes fly open.

He can't see. All he feels is pain.

He needs to protect. All he sees is red.

He hurts. All he is is gone.

He soon falls again.

When he wakes up, he is not alone.

Something rough and warm is touching his right hand.

He can sense the sun on his skin, so bright its light is basically white.

He feels -not better, per se- but not as bad as before.

When he tries to open his eyes, he finds he can only see the right side of the ceiling.

Ah, so this is it. He takes stock of all the pains he is feeling. The left side of his face is burning, he has for sure some broken ribs, and his right leg is in a cast. Well then, could be worse.

He tries to lift his head, but it requires too much energy he doesn't have.

So he simply shakes his hand.

Suddenly, the pressure on it squeezes back. Soon, a mass of curly blonde hair colours his vision, followed by a face so beloved he almost aches watching it.

"Seb" is all he manages, but for his lover it's enough. He starts crying, then he can feel the same drops raining on his face, and a gentle hand in his hair.

When he stops, Sebastian dries his tears, and just looks at him like he is a miracle. Charles honestly thinks it's the other way around, but he stays silent, old arguments left behind.

Then he remembers the kids. Pierre with the cut on her arm and Dani with the wide smile and fear in their eyes.

He doesn't even have to ask, because Sebastian is already answering.

"Pierre is alright. Lando healed her cut and now she is napping with the other kids. The other one..." and then stops, not looking in his eye, expression sad.

"Dani. They distracted one of the last monsters. It threw them at a wall before I could slay it" he says, and actually feels like dying. Now that he is awake and his body pains are somewhat lessened, it's other things that are truly starting to hurt. Friends lost, children killed, trust betrayed.

He momentarily closes his eye, needing a second of stillness and quietness.

Then he opens it, determined to not stop, not yet.

"Ok. One step at a time. The kids?" he asks.

"All four of them are ok, not one wound. They have been helping around" Seb says, and his heart breaks once again. One more thing to add to the to-do list: make sure the kids are somewhat mentally supported.

"Losses report?" he needs to be focused for this part, cynical. He needs to know who was lost, who is alive and who is hurt.

"Charles, you don't have to..." Seb starts, but the son of Aphrodite doesn't let him finish.

"Somebody has to. We need to know. And I'm just lying down, with no way to really help" he is about to continue, when this time is Seb that stops him.

"No help? Charles, you sacrificed your eye. You saved Pierre. You were ready to die. Now it's your time to rest, and let others handle this"

But Charles has always been stubborn.

"No. My job is not done" then continues, after a deep breath "I know I need to rest, but I can't. The thought of me sleeping while you work is unbearable. So please, let me help"

And Sebastian never learned how to deny him anything. He is not starting now. He just sighs, and starts talking.

"Before the split, we were 279. Then 114 left, leaving us in 165. Right now, in these tents, we are 89, mostly injured but only a few heavily"

That's bad, but he can't change anything. So he starts making a plan.

"Ok. It's like this. We need to search for anyone who is still out there but can't move. And also for those who are too scared to return. We send a group out, at least four elements, so they can split up into groups of two. I don't want anyone alone. Then we..."

"Stop right there. Repeat to me who we are looking for?" he knows damn well, but he wants Charles to say it out loud again, and realize how stupid it is.

"People who can't move and people who are too scared to return" he says, defiant and stubborn.

"No. We are not going to help traitors" he spits out, the only thought already making his blood boil.

"Seb, they are our siblings. We are not going to leave them"

"They betrayed us. They sided with the monsters that killed Dani. That almost killed you. That torn Kimi apart" he can't hold back the tears anymore. All Sebastian can see behind his eyelids is his best friend missing the lower part of his body, left on the streets to die alone and scared.

Charles doesn't say anything, giving them both a moment to grieve. He didn't know the other as well as Sebastian did, but the son of Khione was the first to know about them, even before they got together, and often teamed up with him against Seb, speaking French just to make Charles laugh.

"Seb, believe me, I understand how you feel, and I'm not saying we should just forgive and forget. But we are still family. We are not like the gods, petty and vindictive and resentful. That's how Mattia took power and divided us. We help them, we heal ourselves and then we start rebuilding. It's all we can do" he says, and knows he won, once again, but the deep hurt will remain.

"I don't think I'll ever forgive them"

"And I'm not asking you to. I'm just saying, we all need to do better. To make sure something like this won't happen again. So, are you going to be by my side, philtatos?" he asks, but only because he loves hearing Seb's response.

"Always and forever and beyond"

[somethingsomethingwords]

So, part 2 of this. Faster than I imagined, but I really wanted to share this one. I honestly just love it. Enjoy 💜

And just like that, war is over.

The last monsters either turn into golden dust or run away from the Gods' fury.

At camp, Seb managed to protect the children. They are all safe, unharmed. They are alive.

Sebastian feels like he could cry for a week straight, then fall asleep for two months and wake up, just to start crying again.

But he still has duties.

Between the traitors and the fallen, they are gonna need every hand on deck.

First step: reassure the children.

They are four in total. The son of Apollo and the Hypnos kid are hugging so thigh he can't tell where one ends and the other starts. Then there is a daughter of Hephaestus that's just staring ahead, eyes wide and unseeing. The last one, the smallest one, his little sister, has a too heavy sword in her hand, and stands between her friends and Seb's back, the last line of defence if he was to fall.

When every threat is gone, he turns around to see all the kids are now crying, small bodies shaking with a weight that no one should bear, especially this young.

Sebastian falls to his knees, not caring about his wounds, and silently opens his arms.

The children rush to him, and the hug is like a balm for his battered heart.

This is why he stayed, to protect their futures.

When he disentangles himself from the hug, kids still clinging together, he looks around.

No one has returned, and he doesn't know what these old half burnt half destroyed wooden buildings could do to help even if they had.

He is about to stand up and start some sort of triage zone for the wayward wounded, when he feels his pant leg being pulled. His eyes meet the eyes of the son of Apollo, who left the arms of his friend but not their hand.

"I think we should go to the city"

He is shocked by this. The idea of bringing literal children to a battlefield horrifies him. He is about to firmly shut down the idea, when his sister speaks.

"We are useless here. There, we can help" as if it's normal, even expected, for these preteens to witness the horrors of the war.

"No, I'm not taking you. It's too dangerous" he hates the idea so much.

"We can help. We have to. We can heal them, or help them sleep" says the small child of Hypnos, and he hates that they are starting to convince him. After all, he has his own reasons for wanting to be there. Namely a pair of green eyes and two of the cutest dimples ever.

The last kid, the one that still hasn't spoken, is the final nail to the coffin.

"I know where we can find a car" she simply says, starting moving towards Hades knows where.

He'll just have to follow them and drive then. He doesn't even have a driving licence, for fuck's sake.

So he makes a plan. He is taking the children to the city. But first, he stops to prepare five bags with as many packs of ambrosia, bags of nectar and gauze as he can.

After giving one to each of the children, they start walking towards the car. There is no point in just waiting around, he tries to convince himself.

The car ride is bumpy, but nobody complains. They are all silently preparing for what they'll see, and storing all the energy they can master.

He leaves the car somewhere, and starts just going. He will find what he is looking for soon enough. It's destiny, after all, and he promised.

After two turns, they can see an improvised medic camp.

With his hands full of the smaller ones, he gets closer.

The first to notice them is Lewis. The son of Apollo looks exhausted, face pale and hands glowing. But when he is near, they just hug for the longest second ever.

"Seb, what.." starts saying Lewis, but his own brother interrupts him.

"We are here to help, Lew. I can help with small wounds so you can focus on the big ones, and Oscar can help people sleep, if we can't help them" Lando sounds so logical, and Sebastian really hates everything that led to this moment.

Lewis looks at the kids, then nods, sad.

"Ok. But I want you to never separate from each other, ok? You four stay together" the four demigods nod rapidly, only to disappear in the chaos.

Seb goes to follow them, but is soon stopped by Lewis.

He just looks at his friend in the eyes.

"Where is he?" he finally asks, needing to know what happened to Charles.

"I don't know. We saw you, well him, coming with your armour and making plans with some of the Athena's kids, then splitting his group and attacking" Lewis slowly shakes his head.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" he will not be useless as he was for the actual fight.

"Yeah, go find him. Bring him back, or carry his body back to us" with one final nod, Lewis disappears, going to heal as many people as he can.

Sebastian starts walking. He sees friends impaled and foes torn apart. A blond head without half of its body makes his heart stop. He thinks he recognises every body he sees, and he'll never be able to forget a single second of this, but none of them is the son of Aphrodite.

He keeps walking. He goes on and on and on for what feels like centuries, then a small sound makes him turn his head towards one of the lateral streets. There, sitting with a child under his right arm and another one with their head on his leg, that's where Seb sees Charles.

From this far away he can't tell if he is alive or not, so he moves as fast as his leg allows him towards the trio.

He must make some kind of noise, because the child quickly turns her head towards him and raises Charles' dagger, the black metal shiny in her shaking hands.

"Arrêtez-vous. Stop there, don't come closer" says the kid, shaking with fear but still protective of the other. Sebastian feels his heart warm just a bit. His lover has always been able to inspire absolute loyalty even after just a few minutes of people meeting him.

So he stops, and drops to his knees.

"Bonjour, je suis Sebastian. Charles est mon petit copain. Can I get closer, so I can help him?" he hopes his french is not so bad that the girl can't understand him. Charles was giving him lessons, but when he heard him speak his native language there was very little attention dedicated to learning, and a lot of focus on kissing.

The little one does a one eighty. She widens her eyes and drops the blade.

"You are Seb? He was talking about you before falling asleep. I tried to talk to him, but he said he was tired" the kid is now almost crying.

Seb walks closer and kneels in front of the girl.

"You did a wonderful job staying with him and protecting him. Now I'll take care of him" he tries to comfort the kid giving her a smile.

Then he looks at Charles, and everything stops.

His face is pale and with a bad cut from his eyebrow to his chin touching the left eye and his mouth and barely missing his nose; his chest, now free from his breastplate, is slashed open and his right leg lies at a strange angle.

And he has no idea what his internal conditions are.

When he goes to touch him, Seb sees Charles' right eye opening.

His lips mouth his name, but he emits no sound. Then his head minutely moves toward the body on his left leg.

How are they doing? I can't see, Charles seems to say. It breaks Sebastian's heart all over again.

When he looks at the body lying, he can see they are pale and not breathing.

He looks at Charles and shakes his head. Twin tears fall from his eyes, one salty water and the other bloody.

He slowly reaches towards the body, and lifts their head from Charles' leg to the pavement.

"Hey, what do you think about helping me carry him to the medical tents? There my friends will help him" he says calmly to the girl.

She starts shaking her head, and he frowns.

"I can't go back to camp. I have been bad. I followed my sister. I knew she was wrong but I still left. I can't " she starts crying, and starts to stand up and leave.

"Pierre, don't" starts Charles, trying to stop her.

Sebastian and her both stop breathing when he lets out a pained whine.

"You didn't hurt anyone and it's not your fault for your sister's choices" explains Sebastian, taking her hand and lightly squeezing.

Together, they manage to make Charles stand up, then as carefully as he can, Sebastian picks him up. He starts walking slowly towards the tents, two different hands holding his orange t-shirt, but he accelerates when he distinctly feels Charles' hand going lax.

They quickly reach the improvised hospital, and there Seb quickly finds Lewis already looking in their direction.

When he gets close enough, he deposits Charles on a makeshift operating table. He wasn't going to leave his side, but then he remembers Pierre.

Her big eyes are now watery, and he can clearly see she is holding her right arm.

After a silent conversation with Lewis, he takes her to the other kids.

Logan and Oscar are napping, while Lando seems to be rapidly falling asleep. Yuki stands guard, her face firm and fists tight.

When Lando sees Seb, he suddenly stands up.

"You're back" he says simply, half happy half surprised.

"Yes, and I brought a friend. She is Pierre, and she has a cut on her arm. Can you help her?"

"There is no need" says Pierre quickly, shaking her head. But the boy won't let go of her left hand, holding it tightly but gently, so Sebastian leaves them together.

He walks around the tent, not really seeing anything, too focused on where he needs to be.

When he reaches Lewis, his face tells him everything he needs to know. The situation is bad, and the son of Apollo doesn't know if Charles will survive.

Sebastian feels all the bones in his body shatter. After everything that has happened, he will get his happy ending.

He and Charles will go to college, studying environmental science and architecture respectively.

They will find an apartment and move together.

This is not the end. It cannot be.

So he just sits on a chair next to the table Charles is lying on, Lewis still stitching him up and muttering curses as much as prayers, and he himself starts praying to whichever divinity can help, no matter what pantheon they belong to.

He just needs this one favour, this one miracle.

Sebastian doesn't know how long he sits, but it must have been a while. So long he even falls asleep. He only wakes up because the kids arrive, looking dishevelled and tired. So he drops on the ground and just opens his arms. They are soon filled with little bodies.

After shuffling for a bit, they settle down. Skin contact is so needed and appreciated.

He spends the rest of the time watching in front of himself without seeing, and carding his hand through somebody's hair.

He only startles when Charles begins twitching.

He gently pushes the kids off his body, and goes to hold the other's hand.

He is now trembling so much he almost falls off the table.

Then, when he seems to have calmed down, Charles lets out the most animalistic scream of raw pain, back painfully arched, and collapses on the table.

[somethingsomethingwords]

Hello everyone. New year, new story. This one is kind of a niche one. It's a PJO!AU, and also keep in mind the myth of Achilles and Patroclus. I wanted to write about destiny and tragedy, and maybe succeeding in escaping them. As always, comments are more than welcome. Enjoy💜

When Charles enters the room, he knows that this is where his battle starts, still miles away from the actual battlefield.

He gently pushes the door to the infirmary open, and is not surprised to see the other sat on the bed, looking as though he had tried to stand up but failed, with his head in his hands and a bandage already stained with blood on his left thigh.

The blonde looks up, and in his eyes he can see the red hue, but not because of his father's powers. They are bloodshot and puffy.

He'd like to kneel in front of him, rebandage his wounds and comfort him, but he can't. He has to be strong. For the camp, for their friends, for him.

So he just walks until he is in front of Sebastian, gathering enough courage to pose the fatal question.

Everything seems to vibrate with the sound of the incoming tragedy, history repeating itself, never ending sorrow.

"Seb, where is the armour?" That's it, quick, simple, clean.

Many emotions cross his face, and then they all disappear, leaving behind a blank mask.

"No" he says, final.

"Seb, you know I have to. I'm the only one that's left to do it" he can feel the fear starting to make itself known, but he can't let it win, not today.

"Charles, you are not doing it. We'll find somebody else. Hades, I'll do it myself"

Even if his tone is low, his words are firm.

"Seb, there is literally nobody else. It's either me or we lose" And just as he says it, the desperation is starting to feel like something solid.

"I said no. Give me some ambrosia and nectar and I'll deal with it" As he says the words, he pushes on the bed to stand up. It's not even a half step later that his legs give out, and his knees dropping on the wooden floor.

Charles could see it coming, but he did nothing to stop his fall or help him up.

"Sebastian, look at you. You can't even stand, and other ambrosia will kill you, we both know it. Just give it to me, and then..."

"And then what, Charles? I watch you leave camp to never come back? Because you and I both know how this story ends"

"Thanks for the vote of trust" But even as he says it, he knows it's not about trust. It's about prophecies, about destiny, about eternal returns.

But Charles has to raise his temper, so that this will be an angry goodbye, not a sad one.

And, just like he always does, the son of Ares sees through his strategy, and the fury quickly fades.

But without anger, all that's left is shaky voices and wet eyes.

"Charlie, please, listen to me. Stay here, at camp. Defend the children. Let me go" he says as if it's the most logical thing in the world. Or, even if it were, as if Charles is going to listen to logic. He never has. He is not about to.

"Seb, we could fucking see your femur through the beast's slashes like two hours ago. Nectar is not magic. I believe in you more than I've ever believed in them, but even you have your limits. We are still human, Seb" he keeps talking while helping the other on his feet, leaving one of his hands in his and intertwining their fingers.

"So help me put on your armour, then let's go doing what we can to save as many lives as we can" This time he doesn't stop the shaking, doesn't stop the tears, but keeps looking straight into Sebastian's eyes, trying to express all that he can't say through them, trying to impress the colours there into his mind for the last time.

Even as Seb shakes his head, Charles knows he has won. Not because of the power of his words that he will use to rile up every remaining fighter towards the battlefield, but because he can see the despair, hopeless and cruel and inescapable.

He presses his free hand to his cheek, and slowly kisses him as if they have all the time in the world. One last kiss, one last shared breath.

When he pulls back, Seb uses their connected hand to lead him to his cabin, limping slightly.

It's dark and empty, all his siblings guarding the still too young kids.

Gods, they all are still too young for this. But they don't have a choice, it's either this or failure, and failure is not acceptable, for neither of them.

Sebastian's bed is the one nearest to the front. His evident need to always protect makes Charles smile, and it also makes him fall even more in love with Seb.

From beneath it, the blonde takes what looks like the sturdiest armour of all times: the Celestial Bronze culrass shone into the low lights, the helmet with its red crest, the wooden aspis.

Charles accepted all of it, except for the xiphon. He will not leave behind his Bronzen spear, nor his Stygian Iron dagger.

Dressed in Sebastian's armour, with the long cheek guards hiding his face, he knows he can get the other campers to fight. He has to.

Sebastian stares at him, maybe thinking this is the last time they will see each other. But Charles knows it is not. Even if he were to die today, he knows his soul will find Sebastian's. Even in another life, they are predestined.

When he begins to turn, Sebastian gently raises his still tied hand to his lips and he kisses his wrist.

"We will meet again. I swear it on the Styx" he professes in ancient greek.

With a final smile, Charles turns towards the door, towards where all the other campers are bundled.

He isn't Charles Leclerc anymore, Monegasque son of Aphrodite with the most powerful charmspeak of the last 3 centuries.

He now is Sebastian Vettel, German son of Ares, ready to lead his cabin towards the battle, ready to win it.

[somethingsomethingwords]

Nuovo giorno nuovo giro. Questa volta posto in italiano, because why not. Piccola storia, perché a volte se gli sceneggiatori non sono capaci di scrivere cose decenti allora ci devi provare tu. Tutti i commenti sono ben accetti. Enjoy 💜

---

Simone avrebbe finito la giornata vomitando, prendendo a pugni qualcuno o semplicemente andandosi a schiantare veramente sulla tangenziale, altro che spazzatura sotto casa di Manuel.

Se da un lato è sollevato che il cretino di 5C si sia svegliato, dall'altro non può fare altro che odiare un po' la situazione, Ernesto, suo padre. E forse anche un po' sé stesso.

Dopo aver salutato il commissario e lasciato l'ospedale, non gli era rimasto altro su cui concentrarsi a parte quelle due parole: futili motivi. Gli risuonavano nelle orecchie, gli rimbalzavano nel cervello, gli pugnalavano il cuore.

Suo padre non sembra notare niente, ma quella non era una novità. Poteva essere così attento in alcune situazioni, tipo in classe con i suoi studenti, e allo stesso tempo l'opposto a casa. O forse era così distratto solo con Simone.

Forse, dopo Jacopo, aveva concluso che Simone non ne valeva la pena.

Forse era Simone il problema.

Chissà se le cose sarebbero state diverse, se a morire fosse stato lui. La vita dei suoi genitori sarebbe stata migliore? Jacopo sarebbe stato migliore? Avrebbe scoperto la cura per il cancro?

Tutte domande idiote, ma che a volte si palesavano nel suo cervello e non volevano uscirne.

C'era solo una persona che lo aiutava a zittire tutto il caos in testa, ma in questo momento non era lì, e lui doveva imparare a sopravvivere da solo.

Improvvisamente sente una pressione sulla spalla, e si accorge in ritardo che il padre stava parlando con lui.

"Come?" si limita a chiedere.

Il padre lo guarda per un attimo come se davanti a lui ci fosse un nuovo filosofo che ancora non capisce ma che è disposto a studiare, per poi distogliere lo sguardo.

"Niente, dicevo ci vediamo a casa?"

"Sì sì, a casa."

Simone riesce a stento a processare quello che gli ha detto Dante che già non lo vede più, scappato verso chissà dove.

Ora è solo, Simone, in un'area affollata. Troppe persone, troppi sguardi, troppi rumoriodorilacrimeviavai.

Non riesce a concentrarsi su niente, tutto troppo presente ma totalmente inafferrabile.

Vede di fronte a sé un parco, e decide di entrare, perché qualsiasi cosa è meglio della strada, e sa già che non riuscirebbe a tornare a casa in moto.

Si addentra nella piccola zona verde, piena di spazzatura e con una vecchia panca arrugginita.

Si siede, e aspetta che il tempo passi. Ogni tanto un soffio di brezza gli accarezza il viso, o il suono di un clacson gli infastidisce le orecchie, ma lì, su quella panca, si ritrova ad esistere, senza doversi sforzare di essere il figlio perfetto, lo studente modello o l'amico comprensivo. Lì è semplicemente Simone, un corpo senza una volontà.

È solo quando gli vibra il telefono in tasca che ritorna un po' in sé, notando il sole sempre più basso e la sua pelle d'oca, nonostante la giacca pesante.

Con mani malferme risponde alla chiamata.

"Pronto?" la voce rauca, chissà se per il freddo od il disuso.

"Ao, a Simò, ma dove cazzo stai? So' du' ore che t'aspetto pa'a cosa de fisica!" la voce di Manuel è come un balsamo per le sue ferite, ma le parole lo fanno sprofondare. Sì, si era completamente dimenticato di qualsiasi cosa che non fossero quelle parole. Aveva lasciato perdere tutto perché non riusciva neanche ad essere felice quando avrebbe dovuto.

Ma che cazzo c'è di sbagliato in me? si chiede, perché ormai è disposto a tutto pur di non sentirsi sempre nel torto, sempre sbagliato.

"Ao, Simò, ce stai?" chiede Manuel, voce leggermente più seria.

"Sì sì, sto qua." e non sa proprio cosa aggiungere.

Nonostante voglia disperatamente la presenza dell'altro al suo fianco, non può che risentire l'eco di vecchie parole e porte di un garage che sbattono.

"Simone, che c'è? 'Ndo stai?"

"Sto tornando, a dopo."

Simone non aveva la minima idea di come tornare a casa. Si sentiva distaccato dal proprio corpo, quindi il motorino era escluso. Ma non aveva la forza di pensare ad altre alternative.

Il telefono continua a squillare, ma lui lo ignora spegnendolo.

Si riposiziona sulla panchina, ma poi sente una voce familiare.

"Accidenti!"

Si alza e trova Viola all'entrata del parco.

"Ehi Viola, tutto bene?"

La testa della ragazza scatta nella sua direzione, e si rilassa leggermente quando lo vede.

"Ehi Simone. Sì, tutto bene. Solo queste stupide buche che non aiutano le ruote."

In effetti il danno era visibile a chiunque: la ruota destra era deformata e lo pneumatico sgonfio.

"Mi dispiace. Vuoi chiamare qualcuno?"

"Probabilmente."

Quando la ragazza non continua, Simone la squadra velocemente. Ha gli occhi lucidi e sembra anche lei un po' distante da tutto.

Anime in pena entrambe. Ma si sa, mal comune mezzo gaudio.

"Se vuoi possiamo sederci sulla panca ed aspettare."

"Aspettare cosa?"

"Che ad entrambi torni la voglia di tornare a casa."

Questa volta è Viola a guardarlo attentamente, ma Simone non ha niente da nascondere, quindi rimane fermo ad aspettare una qualsiasi risposta.

"E come ci arriviamo alla panchina, genio?" chiede la ragazza, uno strano misto di rabbia e divertimento a tingerle la voce.

"Le opzioni sono due. O ti sollevo, oppure spingo la sedia."

"Ma sei scemo? O sei solo cieco? La ruota è completamente andata, non ce la faresti mai a spingerla."

"E secondo te io perché faccio rugby?"

"Ah, quindi non è la prima volta che ti trovi in questa situazione?" cerca di rimanere seria, ma si vede che trattiene a stento la risata.

"Pfff, tutti i giorni. Non sei così speciale."

Finisce la frase e, appena si guardano, scoppiano entrambi a ridere.

Quando entrambi riprendono fiato, Viola gli lancia l'ultimo sguardo, e poi sembra convincersi su qualcosa.

"Va bene, ma non ti fare strane idee."

"Non mi permetterei mai, my lady." dice nel suo miglior peggior accento british. Poi lentamente si avvicina, le passa un braccio sotto le gambe ed uno dietro la schiena e la guarda, aspettando un cenno di assenso che arriva poco dopo.

Allora, la solleva il più delicatamente possibile e la porta fino alla panchina, depositandola e poi tornando indietro per la sedia a rotelle, non pesante quanto si aspettava ma sicuramente non leggera.

Una volta riseduto, lascia cadere la testa all'indietro, e fissa il suo sguardo sulle nuvole arancioni che lentamente percorrono il cielo.

Non ha idea di quanto tempo sia passato, quando sente Viola sospirare.

Allora si gira verso di lei, e la vede con il viso ancora rivolto verso il cielo.

Il silenzio che si crea non è imbarazzante, anzi.

"Perché stavi piangendo prima?" le chiede Simone sussurrando.

"Non sono cazzi tuoi, ti pare?" risponde lei stizzita, lanciandogli un'occhiata torva.

E tutto questo fa sorridere Simo, perché lui a persone che si comportano da porcospini è abituato.

"Non è per sapere gli affari tuoi. È solo per sapere se ti posso aiutare in qualche modo." risponde pacato.

Lei lo squadra di nuovo, e per qualche motivo quella diffidenza, quella poca fiducia nel prossimo gli è molto familiare.

Sospirando, la ragazza distoglie lo sguardo.

"Non credo proprio che il ragazzo perfetto della classe possa capirmi,no?"

E Simone lo sa che è la cosa più scortese che possa fare, ma a sentire quelle parole scoppia a ridere.

Viola lo guarda torvo, e lui ha bisogno di qualche secondo per ricomporsi.

"Viola, ma che cazzo stai a di'? Solo durante l'anno scorso ho scoperto di aver avuto un gemello che è morto quando avevamo tre anni, me lo sono scordato come se non fosse mai esistito, ho quasi perso l'anno perché mi sono immischiato in giri loschi ed ho scoperto di essere gay. Non posso lamentarmi di come vivo perché so che c'è chi sta peggio, ma non è sempre stata una passeggiata, ah."

Finisce il discorso e vede gli occhi di Viola sgranarsi. Ma in quel momento non sente vergogna, o rabbia, o alcun sentimento in particolare. Quasi non si sente più umano.

"Scusa, non lo sapevo." comincia lei, ma lui scuote la testa.

"Non te l'ho detto per farti sentire male o in colpa. Voglio semplicemente dirti che le persone non sono tutte così cattive come pensi."

"Soprattutto tu?" chiede lei.

"Oh no, io sono il peggiore. Ma qualcuno di veramente buono c'è. Tipo Ryan" continua lui, vedendo la ragazza arrossire. Ah, gli etero e i loro stupidi motivi per non stare insieme.

"Non voglio parlarne."

"Va bene." annuisce svelto, e ritorna quel silenzio, come una coperta spessa che li avvolge.

"Ma tu perché sei qui?" chiede la ragazza, senza però girarsi.

"Ernesto si è svegliato e la polizia mi ha contattato per farmi sapere che non continueranno le indagini." dice in un tono di voce neutro, quasi robotico.

Viola si gira verso di lui e corruccia le sopracciglia.

"È un bene, no? Significa che non sei più sotto accusa."

"Si, per carità. Ma significa anche che non proseguiranno le indagini per l'aggressione nei miei confronti. E sai perché? Perché la rissa è scoppiata per quelli che ritengono motivi futili." non si accorge di aver gli occhi lucidi fino a quando Viola non gli tocca il braccio.

Sposta velocemente le mani, stropicciandosi gli occhi fino a vedere dietro le palpebre le stelle.

"Scusa, non volevo scaricarti addosso la situazione." dice dopo aver abbassato le mani.

"Macché. Mi dispiace per quello che ti hanno detto. Se vuoi mio padre conosce degli avvocati, potrei provare a parlargliene."

Ed è in quel momento che Simone vede davanti a sé non la nuova arrivata in classe, ma una persona che sa cosa significa soffrire e che, come lui, non vuole che altri soffrano.

"No, grazie, tanto non porterebbe a nulla."

"Se non ci provi non lo puoi sapere. Però sappi che è una scelta tua."

Ed è una cosa stupida realizzare che sì, la scelta è solo sua. Nessun fattore esterno, non suo padre né la scuola possono decidere se Simone denuncerà o meno.

In un mare in tempesta, dove la sua vita non gli era sembrata altro che sopravvivi o muori, questa è una scelta solo ed esclusivamente sua.

"Io..." inizia, senza saper bene come continuare.

"Ehi, prenditi il tempo per rifletterci. Ma sappi anche che qualsiasi cosa vorrai fare non sarai solo."

Ed eccolo di nuovo qua, a piangere perché qualcuno ha capito il suo dolore, non lo ha minimizzato ed anzi gli sta dando l'opportunità di fare qualcosa a riguardo.

Ed allora non può non buttarsi sulla ragazza ed abbracciarla e, dopo un attimo di esitazione, sente le braccia di lei stringerlo.

Rimangono così finché non le vibra il cellulare. È il padre preoccupato, e Simone coglie benissimo l'ironia, grazie tante.

Dopo che Viola dà l'indirizzo al padre, ritornano a guardare le stelle che ormai fanno capolino nel cielo blu.

Non c'è bisogno di altre parole.

Quando arriva la macchina di Nicola, Simone non ci pensa due volte a prendere Viola in braccio e portarla fino alla vettura, e lei non protesta, anzi gli posa il capo sulla spalla.

Dopo aver recuperato anche la sedia, Simone fa per andarsene, quando sente la manica del cappotto venire tirata, e si gira verso la ragazza.

"Ma che fai? Sali va, che incomincia a fare freddo e voglio tornare a casa."

"Ed allora lasciami?" dice Simone, anche se sembra più una domanda.

"Ho il motorino parcheggiato di là." indica una direzione che ad essere onesto non sa neanche se sia quella giusta.

"Se pensi che ti permetta di metterti alla guida in queste condizioni ti sbagli. Ora sali, ti porto a casa e poi domani torni a riprendertelo"

Simone avrebbe voluto ribattere, ma un'altra voce lo interrompe ancor prima di iniziare.

"Tu sei Simone, no? L'amico di Manuel? So già dove abiti. Sali che ti diamo un passaggio"

Simone allora accetta, per non sembrare scortese eh, non perché non riuscirebbe a distinguere la luce verde del semaforo da quella rossa.

"Abiti a casa di Manuel?" chiede la ragazza dopo essersi allacciata la cintura.

"No, in realtà è lui che vive a casa mia" risponde lui divertito.

Il viaggio verso casa continua silenzioso, con entrambi i giovani che guardano fuori dal finestrino e Nicola che lancia rapide occhiate alla "specie di fratello" di suo figlio.

Arrivano velocemente alla villa e Simone scende dalla macchina, dopo aver ringraziato ancora un paio di volte.

"Buonanotte, Simo. E, pensaci, ok?"

Si salutano così, con Viola che lo guarda serie, lui che annuisce piano e Nicola confuso.

Non fa neanche in tempo a chiudere la porta di casa che è assalito da un'ondata di ricci ribelli e giacca verde.

"Ao, ma dove cazzo sei stato? Vedi che se nun t'è successo niente de grave, te meno io, ah!"

Non ha la forza di rispondere, perché è a casa, in una villa che non ha mai ospitato la sua famiglia, o almeno non che lui lo ricordi. È a casa perché Manuel è lì, preoccupato ed arrabbiato, ma sempre accanto a lui.

E Manuel lo conosce, lo capisce, e gli toglie le mani di dosso, ma non si allontana. Studia attentamente il suo volto, poi lo prende per la manica e lo porta sul bordo della piscina, dove si siedono in silenzio, le gambe penzoloni ed i cuori pesanti.

"Vuoi dirmi che cazzo è successo?" sbotta Manuel, dopo un lungo silenzio.

Simone sospira. Non sa che cosa dire. Come si spiega alla stessa persona che ti ha insultato perché gay neanche sei mesi prima che ora il suo orientamento sessuale non è considerato un'aggravante abbastanza importante per un'aggressione?

"Niente Manuel, sono andato in ospedale per vedere il cretino di 5C, e poi ho incontrato Viola e abbiamo passato il pomeriggio insieme, tutto qui"

"Simò, smettila de dì cazzate che lo sai che n'e sopporto. Ch'è successo?"

Simone sa che dovrebbe mentire, minimizzare, non mostrarsi debole né sofferente. Ma non è mai riuscito a mentire a Manuel. Forse un giorno imparerà, ma quel giorno non è oggi. Allora fa un ultimo disperato tentativo.

"Mi crederesti se ti dicessi che mi sono incantato a guardare il cielo?"

"No, primo perché è palesemente 'na cazzata, e secondo perché a te il cielo fa schifo, troppo grande senza movimento. Preferisci guardare il mare, con la schiuma e le onde ed i pesci."

Vorrebbe ribattere, ma riflettendoci bene Manuel ha ragione, Simone odia la monotonia piatta del cielo. Solo che questo non lo aveva mai detto a Manuel.

"Come fai a saperlo?"

"Cosa che è 'na cazzata? Perché..."

Ma Simone non gli dà il tempo di distrarsi con le sue chiacchiere.

"No, scemo. Come fai a sapere che odio il cielo?"

Manuel sembra studiarlo per un lungo minuto, per poi distogliere lo sguardo.

"Eh, non lo so Simò, me sembri più 'n tipo da mare."

Manuel sta evitando l'argomento, e per quanto Simone vorrebbe insistere, lascia perdere il discorso. Ma solo per il momento.

Allora sbuffa e torna a guardare un punto indefinito davanti a sé.

"È successa una cosa, niente di grave, ma stavo a rosicà, così sono rimasto fuori a sbollire. Poi ho incontrato veramente Viola."

E come poco prima, anche Manuel deve percepire che Simone non ha voglia di parlare in quel momento. Allora si limita ad abbracciarlo per dargli conforto e calore. Simone gli sembrava così pallido al chiaro di luna, come una statua triste e sola.

Simone sente piano piano la stanchezza distendergli i muscoli e rallentargli i pensieri, e si rilassa tra le braccia dell'altro ragazzo.

Si potrebbe addormentare qui, ma sa che sarebbe peggio, anche se il solo pensiero di muoversi sembra impossibile. Così, si scosta leggermente dal corpo dell'altro e cerca di trovare la forza per alzarsi.

Manuel deve aver pietà di lui e, dopo essersi alzato, lo aiuta sù e lo porta praticamente di peso fino alla loro camera.

Simone usa le ultime facoltà fisiche e mentali per togliersi i vestiti e mettersi il pigiama e poi crolla sul letto.

Quando Manuel torna dal bagno, anche lui già in pigiama, trova Simone steso con ancora i piedi su pavimento e sopra le coperte. Sbuffa divertito, ma poi realizza che, se la giornata lo ha sfiancato fino a questo punto, qualcosa di grave deve essere successo, anche se Simone cerca di minimizzare. Si ripromette di farsi dire tutto la mattina, e poi si mette a lavoro per spostare quel testone sotto le coperte ed in un posizione più comoda.

Dopo essere riuscito nell'impresa, resta un attimo a guardare quel volto, ora disteso, e quei ricci arruffati.

Senza neanche accorgersene, si china e sfiora la sua fronte con le sue labbra, prima di ritirarsi. Non è esattamente imbarazzato, e si ripromette di riflettere anche sull'istintiva tenerezza che sente nei confronti del più giovane.

Ma tutto questo domani. Per ora c'è la sua branda che lo aspetta, e magari qualche sogno pieno di mare, di risate e di ricci ribelli.

[somethingsomethingwords]

Curly hair is MotoGP, wavy hair is Formula 1, straight hair is volleyball.

No, I won't elaborate <3

[somethingsomethingwords]

Hello everyone. I wrote this as a part of something bigger, but I actually liked the structure, so I'm not sure about continuing it. It is a journey through time, where the characters grow older and their relationship stronger. Enjoy 💜

I.

"Where are we?"

- In the woods, like squirrels-

"Sì, can see that. Why?"

- It's quiet, and cool, and I'm with you, so I'm not alone-

"Ah, don't know what to say..."

- Then just stay-

"I'll try my best"

II.

"Why are we at the beach?"

- Because it's your favourite place, no?-

"It is, but I thought this was about you"

- It is. Is it selfish to say that keeping you here is my ultimate goal right now-

"I already told you, I'm not going anywhere"

- You can't promise me that, you can't just-

"I can, and I am. For as long as I'm allowed"

III.

"It's a little bit hot here, no? With the desert and all"

- Mh... just go, Nando. There is nothing for you here-

"You're here. That's enough"

- It isn't. I'm not enough. You deserve better than this stupid freaky bond you don't want, and being burdened by an useless kid-

" Lance, what are you saying, this isn't you. What's going on?"

- Nothing, just me being me. Look around, this is literally myself, and it's empty and pointless and inhospitable-

"It's also full of life, resilient and beautiful, when you know where to look. Even if it wasn't, I'd still choose you, no matter what"

- There is nothing here-

"There is everything here"

IV.

"I like the lake"

- Yeah. Just wanted some quiet-

"Mh. Then let's just relax here, yes?"

V.

"This is new. We've never been indoors. Where is this?"

- My home, I think-

"You didn't envision it like this?"

- Haven't really thought about it. Just...-

"Just what?"

- Just you being here-

"Always, mi amor"