#all older pictures of cele have him looking 5 years old

[v3lnys]

crying real tears btw

[fall0utmind]

Chapter 10

Hi guys,

I am frankly absolutely shattered, so sorry in advance for any mistake. Here is chapter 10 of medical leak au! All other chapters under the tag or on my pinned

AO3 HERE

feedback is appreciated. Much love for you all <3

Marc wakes up with a raging hangover and a few regrets. He is momentarily thankful for the lack of nausea except that it feels like someone has taken a drill to his head, splitting it in too and he has been hit by a truck. He rolls over, pressing his face into the pillows and groaning. His head is pounding. It’s a startling reminder that he’s no longer 20. He would be perfectly happy to stay in bed all day, lazing around and wallowing in self-pity.’ He wishes he was at home, in the comfort of his house in Madrid, alone apart from dogs. But no matter how much he tries to will it into the universe, he is stuck in his motorhome in Misano with last night’s memories fresh on his mind. He pulls himself upright, wincing as it jars his sore head. The clock on his bedside shows that it’s only 10 am, far too early after a night of heavy drinking at 30-something years old. His stomach rolls threateningly, destroying his earlier gratitude.

The hangover makes him give up on all pretence of getting up straight away, rolling over and pulling the duvet around him, cuddling into the warmth. It only takes 5 minutes to realise that sleep is elusive, so he pulls out his phone to see last night's damage on social media. Thankfully, there are only a few photos of Marc, although he looks worse for wear in most of them. The comments mainly consist of people laughing at how drunk he looks or praising him for handling the weekend and his subsequent win. He is hopeful that means he did not do anything too embarrassing, or if he did, it hasn’t made its way online (yet). Upon further scrolling, Marc realises that a lot of the photos of him feature the academy boys. One picture in particular catches his eye: he is beaming at the camera as Pecco laughs beside him, and Bez is staring at Marc with wide eyes filled with wonder. Looking at it now, Marc can’t remember who had taken the photo, maybe Cele, but it is odd to see Bez look at him with something other than hatred and bitterness. He can’t help but feel fond as he remembers that there was a time when Bez was quite a fan. Marc found that he got on with Pecco more than he realised and that Bez and himself have quite a few similar qualities (perhaps they would make quite the dramatic pair). He hopes their relationship can flourish beyond civility from now on, but Marc knows not to get his hopes up too soon. He keeps scrolling, stumbling across a photo of him and Fabio dancing on a table. He isn’t sure his media team will be chuffed about it but it isn’t the worst that could have been captured on camera; his mind flashes to Valentino kneeling in front of him and he groans. He tosses his phone back onto the nightstand and closes his eyes, willing away the pounding behind his eyes.

He drifts in and out of slumber for some time, until he is awoken by someone knocking on the door. He groans, dreading the thought of interacting with another person when he feels like hell warmed over. Hauling himself out of bed and shuffling to open the door, Marc tries to muster up a smile. Relief floods him when he sees Dovi standing on the other side with two cups of steaming hot coffee. Dovi winces in sympathy when he sees Marc, which is never a good sign. He must look worse for wear, unsurprising considering the sheer quantity of ethanol he drank last night. Marc smiles grimly and moves aside to let the older man in, trailing behind Dovi into the living room and throwing himself onto the sofas. He instantly snuggles into the comfort, prompting a loud laugh from Dovi, which echoes in his skull. He glares at the older man, who promptly quietens, suitably chastised. A light kick to his calf from Dovi tells him to shuffle over with a huff, making more room on the sofa. He sits down next to Marc and hands him a coffee. The younger hums as he sips it, closing his eyes in pleasure.

“So about last night”, Dovi starts, a slightly humorous tone in his voice.  

Marc stares at him in confusion. Last night? What had happened? He furiously wracks his brain, drawing a blank. Memories of dancing ridiculously to a pounding bass and drinking far too much bounce around his head. He pointedly does not allow his traitorous brain to slip to Valentino, not now. Nothing else comes to mind; he tilts his head at Dovi in confusion. 

“Ah, you don’t remember. You were rather drunk at that point. Um, you kissed me, yes. Although not long after you went on a rant about Valentino. Something about him looking good on his knees… I believe.” Dovi blurts with a mixture of embarrassment and amusement. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Marc remembers soft lips and tongue. Marc blushes furiously, turning bright red. The thought of forcing himself onto Dovi makes him grimace in humiliation. They’ve hooked up a couple of times before, but to kiss him in public feels wrong. Especially when Marc knows that he still has strong feelings for Valentino, as misguided as they may be. He forces himself not to think about Vale in this situation, of the vague form of the older man on his knees in front of Marc – God had he told Dovi?

“Oh god, I can explain”, Marc stutters. Dovi holds up a placating hand, laughing slightly at Marc’s panicked face. 

“No need. You love him, yes? I understand. Well, maybe not understand, but you love him and that is what matters. Do not worry about the kiss, water under the bridge. I think you’re a fantastic friend and I’m very happy to leave it like that. Although, I don’t think I approve of your choice of men”, Dovi remarks. He sighs slightly, staring at Marc in consideration.  

“I think he will try, for you. Valentino will give up at nothing to get what he wants, you know that. If he wants you, for real, he will stop at nothing until he has you, or at least until you shut him down. You should talk to him. Preferably when you’re sober.” Dovi continues. 

Marc considers the statement carefully, mulling it over in his brain. He knows Valentino is determined and annoyingly stubborn; he has unfortunate first-hand experience. It is a shared trait that has previously ruined their relationship. Yet, determination is also their strength; Marc’s resilience to misfortune and Valentino’s longevity in the sport show that. Last night, Valentino got onto his knees for Marc and practically begged for forgiveness, showing such raw emotions that it was jarring. Marc was captivated, barely listening as Valentino apologised and promised to make amends. He doesn’t know how truthful it was. Marc isn’t stupid, he knows Valentino was drunk and there is every possibility it meant nothing, that Valentino doesn’t care. It’s terrifying. But then Luca showed up, berating Valentino as if he were the older sibling. He told Marc that Vale loves him, destroying any hope of him putting this behind him, or getting ‘over it’.

(Then again, it had already been ten years, what’s another ten?)

 Luca isn’t a cruel person and he certainly isn’t a liar. He and Marc have always had a civil relationship, despite Valentino and Marc’s poor rapport in recent years. It is not in Luca’s nature to do something like that to retaliate, yet Marc cannot seem to believe him. Love? People in love don’t act like Valentino does, talking down on their beloved and being obsessively critical. Marc heaves a deep breath, mulling over the idea, inspecting it from every angle. Valentino’s obsession makes more sense in this light, a potential reason for the endless onslaught of criticism and nit-picking. Years of bitter hatred and heartbreak make love feel like a foreign concept. For Marc, it has been a decade of resentment turned into resignation. He has never allowed himself to imagine their future, always safer to assume they would remain legends of the sport, orbiting each other but never crossing paths again. Valentino would continue to go on his talk shows and make comments about Marc, whilst Marc would pretend not to care. Now though, he allows himself a glimpse of the daydream. Of soft mornings in bed and midnight rides along coastal roads. He closes his eyes and can almost hear the rumble of engines at the ranch and the sound of the academy, laughing as they whipped around the track, Marc and Valentino amongst them. Marc tries to hold back the hope unfurling within him.

Dovi sits beside him in companionable silence whilst Marc has a minor breakdown over Valentino. Their knees brush as they drain the last of their coffee. Dovi starts the conversation about the next race in Aragon. They decide that Dovi will visit again on Sunday, and keep in contact in between; Marc is torn between gratitude and embarrassment that his friends feel they need to babysit him like this. He settles on gratitude but promises himself to be stronger next time; Dovi appears to pick up on Marc’s self-criticism, elbowing him gently with a knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. When Dovi gets up to leave, Marc follows, pulling him into a grateful hug.

“Thank you. For everything.” He whispers against Dovi’s shoulder.

The older man pulls back and grins, ruffling his hair affectionately. Dovi has stayed with him through it all; he has allowed Marc to cry on him, and laugh with him.

(and snog him whilst off his face on cocktails)

As he watches Dovi leave, Marc cannot help but feel indebted to the older man for all he has done. Marc sighs, spinning away from the door and mentally collating the list of things he must do today, most importantly packing up and leaving Italy. He pulls himself into the bathroom, hoping to make himself feel more human. The hot water from the shower beats down, washing away the grime from last night. It is always Marc’s go-to after a rough night; the warmth settles into his bones. Afterwards, he steels himself to swallow a couple of ibuprofen pulls with a protein bar, to soothe his aching head.

He puts on a casual outfit before he heads out to find his brother (hopefully not in Franko Morbidelli’s motorhome). As a last-minute thought, he places a pair of sunglasses on the bridge of his nose- he’s done post-race celebrations enough times to know how to conquer the next day. Marc is barely down the steps when he spots him, freezing in place. Valentino is walking across the path, his eyebrows creased into a small frown of pain- he looks like he’s suffering as much as Marc. Valentino must feel eyes on him, as he stops in his tracks and meets Marc’s gaze, Marc feels pinned to the spot. He’s instantly assaulted by the mental image of Vale begging on his knees at his feet He physically shakes his head to dislodge the thought. Valentino shuffles closer whilst Marc is distracted, now only a foot away. 

“Marc” Valentino whispers, looking slightly in awe. 

“What, Vale?” Marc sighs, he feels tired and the nickname slips out by mistake, again. Valentino stares. 

“I’ve missed you calling me that” Valentino admits. Marc’s heart aches at the admission. 

Marc licks his lips. Valentino eyes follow the movement. Marc tilts his head and swallows slowly, deliberately. Valentino has to tear his eyes away. Interesting. Maybe his hopes were not completely unfounded.

“We should do this away from prying eyes, huh?” Marc questions.

The younger man sighs, turning around and pulling Vale back into the motorhome. If they’re going to have this conversation, they should definitely do it in private and sooner rather than later; Alex will have to wait. Once they’re safely inside, with the door locked, Marc looks at Valentino expectantly. Vale can't seem to decide where to look, bouncing from Marc’s lips to his eyes, to the wall, to the rumpled blankets on the sofas. When the older man looks back, Marc feels drunk on the determination set in Valentino’s eyes. It is such a familiar look on Valentino, but it’s so attractive that it makes him a bit stupid, his brain lagging as Valentino begins to talk.

“Congratulations on winning, you deserve it. It was one hell of a race. The top step looks good on you. It always has.” Valentino admits, leaving Marc gobsmacked. Valentino’s worried face tells him that he hasn’t finished his speech.

“I hope you and Dovi are happy” Valentino chokes out, sounding resigned and slightly upset. Marc startles, that certainly isn’t what he expected from this talk.  

“Fucking hell, not you as well”, he groans. 

Valentino's eyes widen, shock evident.  

“I saw him leave,” Valentino says, his voice exasperated. Marc laughs, Valentino looks sceptical like he thinks Marc is tricking him.

(and isn’t that on brand)

“We aren’t dating, Vale. He’s a friend and a good one at that. But nothing more”, Marc comments, purposefully gentle. He wants to say more but is distracted by how Vale relaxes in relief. Maybe Luca was right. 

Marc takes a step closer, encroaching on Valentino’s personal space and cataloguing how the older man’s gaze darts across his face. It feels powerful, to have Vale like this, hooked by every breath Marc takes. Valentino exhales. Marc takes another step, placing them chest to chest; Marc has to tilt his head up to watch Valentino, whose irises are engulfed by the black of his pupils. Very slowly, Marc stretches onto his toes and brushes his lips against Vale’s, praying that he hasn’t read this wrong. Vale reacts like he has been shocked, spurring into action and he pushes back into Marc, deepening the kiss as he leans down. Marc groans into it, unable to form any coherent thought, only focussing on the sensation of Valentino pressed to his front and his tongue in Marc’s mouth. Valentino huffs a breath, breaking for air. It thrusts Marc back into reality – he remembers last night.

 Marc pulls away from Valentino slightly, they have to talk about this, Marc promised himself that he wouldn’t just fall at the first sign of reciprocation from Vale. There is still a decade’s worth of hurt between them that they cannot ignore. Valentino tries to reach for him, to reel him back in, but Marc steps away.

“Marc, please, come on”, Vale gasps.

Marc pointedly does not relent.

“We need to talk Valentino”, he says.

“We have talked, you are not dating Dovi. I congratulated you on the race and now we should kiss more.” Valentino suggests. Marc rolls his eyes, trying to contain his frustration. If only it was that easy.

“That’s all you wanted to talk about? Nothing else?” He forces his voice to stay neutral but gets nothing in return, there is no sign of recognition. Marc tries not to let the anger bubble over, instead he grinds his teeth. 

“Do you remember last night Vale?”, he snaps. 

Valentino frowns, “What about last night?” he replies. Marc grinds his teeth. 

“You know, the bit where you got drunk and then fell to your knees and begged for forgiveness.” Marc snarls, frustration finally boiling over.  

Valentino shakes his head, looking slightly embarrassed. Marc isn't sure he’s ever seen the older man embarrassed. He can’t even bring himself to feel vindictive. 

“No, I didn’t” he proclaimed. Marc glares in response, his eyes filled with fury.  

“Oh, you did. I knew it was just because you were drunk. Fucking hell Vale, we can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep doing this. You need to leave me alone”, Marc growls. His face shutters as he speaks, giving away nothing – a blank slate.  

“That’s what you want is it?”, Valentino says, his voice raising to almost a shout.  

“No, of course I don’t Vale, don’t be stupid. It has always been you pushing me away. You’re being cruel. Do not act like I am the bad guy now, it is not fair”, Marc shouts. He shocks himself with the pain evident in his voice. He feels like he will never heal from this. Valentino has injected poison into his veins, destroying his heart one day at a time. A concoction of rage and hurt boils inside him.

“Don’t do this to me again. Please don’t fucking do this. God Vale, I can’t keep getting my hopes up and having them crushed. We have to stop this. You have to leave me alone.”  Marc spits, the words flowing out of him, uncontained now that he’s started.  

“I don’t want to leave you alone”, Valentino growls.  

“That's not fair, you need to make a decision.”, Marc replies. 

Valentino scowls, “I’m trying to make one, I try to tell you but it’s hard!”. 

“You either want me or you don’t. You either love me or you don’t. I love you so fucking much it hurts.” Marc whispers. Valentino falls silent, his hand by his sides and his face slack. Marc doesn’t want silence, they don’t do silence or feelings, they do pure visceral hatred and shouting.

“Come on fight me on this, tell me you hate me. It’ll be easier than whatever the fuck is going on”, Marc is shouting now, a few tears rolling down his cheeks. Valentino lets him shout- Marc hates it.  

“What are you doing? Fight me, you bastard. Just do something. You’re meant to hate me.”, Marc yells. 

Valentino simply stands there, letting Marc yell. Years of anger, heartbreak, and hurt burst out, filling the room with harsh truths and insults. Marc tells Valentino his darkest secrets and sobs as he says ‘I love you’. A part of Valentino breaks. Marc shouldn’t be crying when he says those words, he shouldn’t be crying at all.

“For God’s sake what’s wrong with you?”, Marc sobs.  

“I’m tired, Marc. I’m tired of pretending that I don’t love you.”, Vale whispers back.

Marc chokes. 

“I truly am sorry. I will be forever and I regret so many things. I realise I have so much to sort out. I may still feel some anger over the past but you are right that it was not your fault. You were an easy person to blame and that was not fair. I spent too long trying to push you away, to destroy you. I never looked to see what it had done, it was easier to pretend you weren’t human, that you didn’t feel. I was so afraid of everything I felt for you. I understand if you can never forgive me but I will spend every day till the end of my life trying to prove to you that I’m sorry.”, Valentino gasps, fighting for breath through his stumbling words.  

Marc can’t cope with this anymore. He can't cope with the ghost of Valentino’s lips pressed against his own, nor the enormity of all he has just said. He cannot believe it has come to this- arguing in Marc’s motorhome and shouting ‘I love you’. Marc might cry, he doesn’t look back once as he rushes to the door, pulling it open and stepping into the bright sunlight outside. He can’t do this right now; he can’t look at Valentino and his promises for another second. His heart feels fragile in his chest, beating out of time.

Marc flees.