naiam

David was playing with Luca. They were kicking a ball between each other. David did a few tricks, balancing the ball on his foot, keeping him in the air with his knee.

He had fun. At least, it looked like that to him. He was laughing and yelling to the other Italian.

Vale couldn’t help but smile, just watching Luca and David interact. Luca was cheering on the boy, teasing him. The familiarity between them was undeniable.

But for the first time, Vale actually noticed it. For the first time, he didn’t just saw his brother play with a kid. He saw his brother play with his kid. He saw Luca play with his nephew. He saw David play with his uncle.

They were family. They were each other’s family.

Regardless of Vale. Or drama. Or anything else.

Luca and David were family. And Luca had stuck to David despite everything Vale had done.

And now they were playing together. They were playing and Vale couldn’t help but recall what it was like when Luca was that age. When he had played the same games with Luca at Tavullia.

Back then Luca had been the one proudly showing off balancing a ball. And Vale had been the one cheering.

Yet now it was David. His son.

And Luca was the one teaching David.

The situation felt both perfect and wrong at the same time. Because as much as he loved seeing Luca and David interact, knowing his son was being cared for, as much did he hate that Luca had to be the one, taking over the role.

Because he hadn’t. Because he hadn’t taught David how to do football tricks. Instead it had been Luca teaching David the same way Vale had taught Luca.

Because he had stepped up when the older brother left.

The thought hurt Vale.

Luca had taken his place. Not because he wanted to but because he didn’t want to leave David. Unlike Vale.

The Italian swallowed hard. He let the situation settle in. He let his life choices settle in. The implications. The consequences. It all came back to him within seconds.

Roser, who was sitting on a bench, watching her boys was the first to notice to the other man. She sighed. Her eyes were fixed on Rossi.

For a moment, she just wanted to take David and leave. She wanted to keep him away from her grandson. She wanted to shield him from potential hurt.

But she knew this wasn’t her call. It wasn’t her decision to made and she wouldn’t meddle in family situation just because she was unhappy…….. Unlike other people.

So she just stood up. Slowly. With the authority of a woman that wouldn’t back down and would stand up for her own and her believes.

Her movements were deliberately drawing her grandsons attention to her. She walked over to him, making eye contact with the younger Italian for a moment, just to be sure he had noticed him to. To make sure they were on the same page.

Luca – who was currently holding the ball – stilled, silently nodding behind David as the boy stared at him in confusion, silently asking what was going on.

He had noticed that something was behind him. Or someone. So David turned around. He expected to see his tio Alex. Or maybe his grandfather. Those were the people that would make sense.

And he wanted to his papa. He wished to see him come down to play so bad. No more hospital bed. No illness. No troubles. Just his papa playing football with him.

But he knew that this would remain a wish.

So when he turned around, he expected anyone. Not him. His father. His dad. Vale. Valentino. Rossi.

He had no idea what to call him now.

He froze on the spot. He felt his muscles locking up, unable to move. It felt like his breath was stuck in his throat and the air was sucked out his lunges.

He stared at him.

He just stood there. His hands twitching, fidgeting around. He felt the same feeling wash over him as a few days ago when he had been just a boy begging for his father when he stood in that kitchen in Tavullia.

He had no idea how to react.

He felt like he was a kid again, looming in the door way like a shadow, hearing his papa and his grandparents argue. He remembered them yelling. Sometimes he heard names he couldn’t sort to a person. Sometimes he heard his own names.

He had felt as helpless and confused as now. He hadn’t known what to do back then and neither did he know what to do know.

And all he wished for was that his papa would come just like back then and swoop him up, cradling him, kissing his head and promising him to go back home now.

He wanted that comfort. He craved that safety. But he knew that it was impossible. His father was still hospitalized. He wouldn’t come. If anything, David had to go to him.

He knew there was no one taking him away. No one saving him from this confrontation. He had to figure out how to handle this on his own.

A part of him wanted to run to him. He wanted to hug him. Act like all this never happened. He wanted to pretend that fight never happened. That everything was like before it came crashing down. That Vale still liked him, having warmed up to him. That he never yelled. And cursed. And destroyed his art. He wanted to pretend this never happened.

And maybe he would have. Maybe he would have ignored all the hurt. Maybe he would have focused on the fact that at least he was hear now.

But only if he hadn’t heard them talking. If the picture hadn’t ended up in the trash.

Maybe otherwise he would have run to him. Clinged to his leg and begged for comfort.

But he didn’t.

The part that had stepped past its breaking point was stronger. The part that was angry. The part that was tired. And upset.

He had tried everything. He had given his all. He had tries so hard to be a good son. To became a son his father would want and it had not been enough.

It hadn’t been enough.

Salucci had won over him. Again. Just like he always had and always would.

That had been the truth. And he wanted to make peace with that. He wanted to move on. To stop chasing someone attention when he so clearly had been tossed away over and over and over and over again.

He wanted to draw a line. He wanted it to be enough. He wanted to no longer be treated like that.

He wanted to stand up for himself.

But in that version, Vale didn’t fit.

It didn’t fit that he was there. In Spain. At the hospital. It didn’t make sense. Not really. It didn’t fit that he had been watching him.

And David had no idea how to handle that twist.

He didn’t know how to handle that part of him that wanted to forgive him. He didn’t know how to handle that part of him that still wanted to be Vale’s son. Because after all, he was still just a 10 year old boy, wanting his father.

And he wanted his father to want him to.

There was no turning off of this part of himself. He was just a kid. And kids want their father. No matter how ridiculous it sounded. No matter how stupid they felt for it.

And now that David knew what it was like – or could guess what it was like – to be Vale’s son, he didn’t want to miss that. Because he knew the Italian could be a good man. He could be a good father.

So how can you blame a kid for wanting his father?

He swallowed hard. He felt his grandmother next to him. He reached for her. Subconsciously, his fingers grabbed onto the fabric of her clothes.

It felt like safety. An anchor keeping him a float from all the emotions he was too small for.

“You wont be able to talk to him from over there!” Luca yelled in Italian but David had understood every word. He stiffed. So Rossi was here to talk to…. Him?

Almost at the same time, he watched Vale move. He stepped closer to them until there were only a few meter separating them.

Instinctively, David stepped back. The boy huffed and pointedly looked away. He was facing Roser who took pity at the visible shocked and hurt Italian.

Not really for him. He deserved that. But she knew her grandson. She knew that even when he was rude, he’d later feel guilty. And this… The thought that made he had pushed his father away, was a guilt she wouldn’t let stir in him.

“You don’t have to talk to him.” She offered, her hand in his hair, gently caressing his head. Her voice was full of love. “But… You know, maybe you wanna hear what he has to say?”

“Why do I always have to listen?” he whispered. He was tired of it. He was tired of explanations. Of excuses. Of apologizes that would get broken again. And again. And again. He was fed up with words that no longer hold meanings. Phrases he couldn’t rely on.

“Because you, David Marquez, are a good boy.” The Spanish woman explained, without missing a beat. “You are polite. And your papa raised you right. So what do you wanna do?”

David hesitated. He turned back around, staring at the older man. His father. Then he looked up at his grandma.

“May I say a bad word, Abuela?” “You may.” She allowed. He took a deep breath, then he turned around.

He faced him. His young face holding a cold, wavering expression. Like he wasn’t sure what he was doing. How he was doing it.

“What the fuck do you want?” he hissed. His voice was shaking. He wasn’t used to cursing. It wasn’t something he did. But now it felt like the one right thing to do.

He heard Luca chuckle. But for the first time, he didn’t care. He just stared at his father. “Give him hell, kiddo” Luca whispered before he pulled Roser away.

“Let them talk. They need to figure this out on their own.” He explained. She was reluctant. It felt wrong, leaving David alone with him. But she knew it was the only right thing to do.

As they left, Vale kneeled down. He was still keeping his distance but he was as close as he dared to get to David. He looked at him. His brown eyes. The brown eyes. The eyes he knew so well.

The eyes he never wanted to miss. Ever again.

“Hello David.” He started softly. “I just want you to know that, I… I’m here because I-“

“Aren’t you supposed to be in some small fucking Italian village and talk shit about me and my papa with that old bastard!” he continued.

Vale nodded. He accepted the  snarky remarks. It was a low price to pay for this chance. He took it without complaint because he had deserved it. “I…. No. No, I was – David, I know you’re angry. I understand-“ he tried.

His was voice calm. Almost quiet. Like he hadn’t caused this anger in David’s chest. Like he wasn’t responsible for the storm in the boys head.

And it made David angry. It made him even more angry so he cut him off.

“No you don’t! You don’t know anything and you don’t understand!” David yelled in frustration and hurt.

“You – I thought I had my dad back! I thought you’d like me. And then… Then you… Then you toss me aside like I am trash?! AGAIN?!” The words fell out his mouth, quickly and with no hesitation.

He didn’t thought about what he said. He just said what felt right.

Rossi felt his face fell. He stared at David, realizing this was exactly what had happened. He had put his son through that. He had made his own child feel like that.

He opened his mouth, gasping for air, trying to say – anything – but he couldn’t. There were no words coming out. Nothing he could say.

But he didn’t need to. Not yet for David was not yet ready.

“I could have understood if you just… If you would just hate me. If you had ignored me and cursed me away. Fine. Then you’re just a meanie. I’d leave and never see you again. GREAT.  But this-!” His voice spiked. His words started to shake as he continued, like his words were breaking soon.

All the thoughts came flooding back to the boy. He remembered his fear when he arrived at the ranch. He remembered his hesitant approaches. He remembered trying so hard to get the older Italian to notice him.

That was all that he wanted. To be noticed by his father. To be more than a footnote in the great book of Valentino Rossi. He wanted to be more than a remark on a page he had turned years ago.

And he had let him in.

It had been good. Gentle. He had been cared for and David had thought he had been loved. He had thought he had his father back.

But oh, how wrong he had been.

“I thought… I thought you actually liked me. I thought you would be nice from now on. I thought you actually cared about me and then… Then you toss me away. Just because he – or you…” his sobs were no longer hidden.

He cursing himself for believing Rossi. For wanting to believe him. He cursed himself for being a naïve, stupid boy whose voice broke while speaking. He felt the sobs tear apart his chest and he felt like he could barely breath.

“And I am so sorry, David.” Vale whispered in between the chaos that David felt. The words did little to calm the boy.

They weren’t perfect. But they existed.

Vale gently reached out for the kid, unsure how far he could go. He was sure David would not want a hug right now so he offered holding his hand. He was careful as he slowly wrapped his hand around his.

“I have never regretted anything more than how I treated you and your father.” He said. He kept his eyes low. The regret was visible in his face. But David no longer trusted it. He wasn’t sure how honest it was.

“I… Walking away from you was the biggest mistake of my life. Losing you because I believed… What did you say? That old bastard?” he asked. David nodded.

“Losing you because I believed that old bastard was the worst thing I ever did. Of all the wrongs I did, of all the mistakes I made, this had been the worst one. And I will never forgive myself for that.” He stated.

He wasn’t sure where he was going with this. He wasn’t sure what he was trying to do. So he just decided to say what he thought David should know.

“You hear me? I am so, so sorry, bambino. You… You are my kid. And I… I left you. And I know that there is nothing I can do or say that will fix this. I know that there is no way out. And I respect it if you don’t ever want to see me again. I do.” He swallowed hard.

It was difficult to say but he was the only one to blame to be in this situation.

He could have had it all. A career. The academy. David. Marc. He could have had it all for the last 10 years, but he had walked out on them.

“You have every right to be angry… But I need you to know that I am here. Doesn’t matter if you care about that now or next week or in a year or in a decade. I let you down so many times and I swear to you I will do anything to never let you down again.”

David huffed. He crossed his arms infront of his chest. “But you left. Again.” He reminded him. “You threw my drawing away just like you threw me away! I am worthless to you, aren’t I?”

A small voice in his head whispered that all he needed to do was be worthy. Get into moto3. Moto2. Motogp. And win.

He remembered Pecco. He had won a championship and was Vale’s favorite. He was his golden boy. So if he managed to do that too…?

David swallowed, silencing the voice in his head.

“No. I mean – I… David, that I let that happen will haunt me forever.” Vale hurried to say. “Everything I did to you will. But please… Even if you never want to see me again, I need you to understand that you are worth more than how I treated you.” He said strongly.

“You deserve the world. You are a good kid and I… I should have been proud to be your dad. But I… I lost that right. And that… That is entirely my fault. But I need you to know that the fucked up way I treated you, is not how you should let anyone treat you. Please… You are a great kid. The best boy I ever met. And I don’t want you to ever forget that… Okay?”

Even if David never wanted to see him again, the Italian needed to make sure his son knew that. If all he would turn out to be, was a lesson in self-respect for his son, then he’d accept that.

David looked at him. His eyes were big and glassy. There were still tears running down his face. He tried to find something to say. Anything.

“I… I don’t forgive you. And… I still don’t like you.” He muttered. He looked down, helplessly, kicking a rock laying at his feet. “But… But my papa always says something about second chances… So I guess…”

He shrugged as he squeezed Rossi’s hand. A small sign. But a sign.

Vale smiled gently. He knew some words wouldn’t fix this. Thing weren’t alright. And it was impossible for him to fix years of hurt and abandonment with a simple conversation. He knew this wouldn’t be so easy.

But it was the first step to proving David that he meant it. It was the first step of being able to show him that he meant it.

And he would. For the rest of his life, he’d make David his priority.

“I… I think you should talk to papa.” David muttered. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he looked up. He didn’t want this to be a secret. He wanted his papa to know what was going on.

And if the Italian meant it, he’d do it. He’d talk to him. Even if it was just for David.

Vale felt his eyes go wide at the suggestion. Marc. Right. He needed to fix that mess too… And he wasn’t sure what would be more difficult.

“Yeah… I spoke with him earlier.” He explained. “He allowed me to talk you. I didn’t want to do that behind his back.”

David looked up at him. His lip suddenly wavered. “Wait… He made you talk to me?” he asked, his eyes getting big as he asked. He looked sad.

Slowly Vale realized what he just said. How it sounded like Marc had made him talk to David. As if Marc had initiated their conversation, not because Vale needed these things to be said.

“NO!” he immediately blurted out. “I mean – I mean I wanted to talk to you and clear things up but I didn’t want to go behind Marquez back and get his permission to talk to you. I fucked things up so it should be his and your call if you allow me to make things right.”

David chuckled. “I know. I just wanted to see you panic” he admitted.

“Oh you are a smart boy.” He laughed.

“Now come on.” David said. He grabbed his father by the wrist and started pulling him in one direction. The Italian followed him without hesitation. “Where are we going?”

“To see papa.” “David, I don’t know if this is a good idea. I mean, your papa has to-“ The Italian tried to say.

He remembered the terror look Marc had given him when he had heard about David in Tavullia. The though of David with Vale. He didn’t want to add to that.

And he thought about all the things he put Marc through. He had done unspeakable things to him. He had let him walk through hell with a baby on his hip.

That wasn’t something someone could forgive so easily. He’d have to beg on his knees. And he would…

But he was sure that Marc being hospitalized wasn’t the time for that. Therefore he was sure the last thing Marc needed was having him around and the connected drama. But David wasn’t hearing it.

“Yes it is a good idea.” He insisted.

“And why do you think he would want to see me rather than getting some rest?” the older tried to suggest gently.

David stared at him.

“Because you haven’t been here these past… 8 years. I have. And I have never known how he was with you around. So…” he shrugged.

He knew what his papa could be like. Anxious. Worried. Overbearing and highly overprotective of his son, to the point of forgetting his own needs. To the point of ignoring he’s the one hospitalized.

And if all the stories David had been told were anything to go by, maybe his papa could focus less on David and more on himself if Vale was around.

He remembered Dani telling him that the Italian had looked after Marc in a way Marc would never let anyone else take care of him…

So maybe, just maybe…

“So, yeah, I want to see if he’s doing better with you around. And you said you want papa or me to make the call. Well, papa isn’t here so I do it. I say he wants you around and if he doesn’t, he will tell you yourself.”

David swallowed. He stared at his father and chose Italian. Because in that moment, he felt more than a Rossi than he ever did before.

“Get your fucking ass in there and prove my papa that you care.” He said clearly without breaking eye contact.

Vale nodded. “Fine. But just so you know… Jorge and Pedro are setting bad examples for you.”