can0fwworms

So that's how you ended up in your RV, water bottle in hand, watching the rest of the race as you relaxed on the couch. You told your crew chief that you would talk after everything finished. If you talked now, the most productive part of the conversation would be making up new slurs for Kyle Larson. Plus, there was nothing to discuss. You were running mid-filed one moment and then the next, you were looking at the wall from the grass. It is what it is. You were sure they were arguing over who's fault it was in the marshal's room but that was not a conversation that you wanted any part of.

You wished to be racing still.. Talladega was one of your favorite tracks. Hell, any super speedway could be your favorite, but Talladega held so many memories for you. It was the first ever NASCAR race you attended as a child. It was the first race you won when you raced in O'Riley.

It is what it is though.

You couldn't be mad. Especially because, currently, your boyfriend was leading the race.

You should be getting changed - like you were doing before getting too invested in the race - or at least taking a shower before going to do your media duties, but you were glued to the couch, eyes trained on the TV as you watched Carson and Buescher exchange positions every lap. You tied not to get too excited, remembering how Daytona fucked him over in the last lap. Yet, you couldn't help the excitement from bubbling up.

As the laps ticked down, you watched with growing anticipation as it became more and more evident that Carson had a definite shot at winning. You lowered your legs from the table, eyes still locked on the race. If he pulled this off, God, this would be wonderful for him. He had been snuffed time and time again, either by bad strategy calls, a slow pit stop or something completely out of his control. May this time he'd be the winner and show everyone that he wasn't just some kid who fucked around too much on iRacing and managed to get a Cup seat.

By the last lap, you were on the edge of the seat, foot bouncing up and down with the anxiety that was flooding your system despite the happiness for Carson that was also there. No matter what else was going on around you, you wouldn't be able to take your eyes away from the screen. Your heart was beating out of your chest. He was going to do it. 168 laps, one large wreck, a handful of minor crashes, and six cautions later, Carson Hocevar was going to win his first race. At Talladega of all places.

They turned the last corner of the tri-oval and your breath caught in your throat. He was going to do it. He was going to win. You couldn't help the shout of joy as Carson crossed the finish line, a car length in front of Buescher.

Nothing was stopping you from running to him at this point, not even the confused look from your manager as you accidentally bump into him as you run in the direction of victory lane. You didn't care how absolutely stupid you may have looked in the moment with your race suit tied around your waist and team polo on instead of your fire proofs, you were going to go kiss your man.

You could hear Spire's shouts for joy from the paddock. This was monumental. For them. For Carson. So much work had gone into this. You knew it from the countless nights Carson stayed up running a new sim set up or the nights where he had gotten up in the middle of the night to review a new bit of data in a slightly different perspective. This was three long and hard years of planning and discipline for Carson and you couldn't be prouder of him.

You wanted to run to him as he somehow managed to do that incredible stunt down the straightaway. Only your boyfriend would think of something so charming - though you assumed he would be getting a hefty fine tomorrow. Instead, you ended up running into him as the car was pushed into victory lane. He smelled of burnt rubber and sweat and as you hugged, you were surprised at the comfort that that smell had.

You looked up at him, placing your hands on his cheeks, forcing him to look at your with his beautiful baby blue eyes that were red with tears.

"You did it baby!" You wren't sure if he could hear you over the sound of the crowd and the general chaos of this celebration. "I'm so proud of you!"

His hands were on your waist as he pulled you into a tight hug once again.

"I did it," he whispered in your ear. A confession, coated in tears only for you to hear. "Holy fuck I did it."

You thread one of your hands through his hair, using the other to take off that stupidly cute cowboy hat he loved to wear after the races. The whole world faded away at that moment. In the chaos of victory lane, for at least a moment in time, it was just you two. He rested his forehead against your shoulder and you didn't need to see his face to know there was still a smile on his face.

This was a position the two of you often found yourself in. Carson was always physically affectionate the second you two were alone, so it was odd to have this affection where everyone could see you. There were cameras trained on Carson from basically every angle, and yet he still relaxed into your arms.

"You did so good babe." You briefly kissed the shell of his ear, something so brief that it could be mistaken for just a private conversation. Nobody knew about you two. Neither you or Carson wanted to deal with the potential issues that came with being gay in NASCAR, though you were incredibly sure that at least now, it might be somewhat okay for you two to be gay on the grid.

He pulled back from the hug, nodding at you before pulling you close by your waist. You cocked your head at him, a silent question between you two as you wrapped your arms around his neck. This pose was undeniably romantic and before you could warn Carson about the photographer focused on you two, he pulled you into a passionate kiss.

It was an unconventional way to come out, but it was also perfectly Carson and that's all that mattered to you.

[a photo of you and Carson, passionately kissing in victory lane with the setting sun behind you]

@yournameracescars: be gay. drive cars. happy for you my Dega winner 🩵🏳️‍🌈

↳ @carsonhocevar: couldn't have done it without you my dude love you 🫶🩵

↳ @yournameracescars: you did not just "my dude" me after making out with me 💀

Gris was driving as fast as as he could with blood covering one of his eyes, but Tamsy couldn't find himself caring about getting back to base safely. He just needed to make it back before he was gone too far. He was barely breathing now. Every breath seemed to take more and more of his depleting energy. If they didn't hurry, he was going to die in the back of this car.

The fight replayed in Tamsy's head. Logically, with his distaff and his sphere, this should have gone smoothly. Tie up the giant beast, stab it through the core, then make it back to the base in time to enjoy some drinks before relaxing the next day. That was always their plan and their plans usually worked fantastically.

But how this beast broke through Tokushin, Tamsy didn't know. However, he knew he would forever remember the moment the tail end of the beast stabbed him through the chest.

It shouldn't have happened.

Nothing was supposed to break through Tokushin. The more they struggled, the more they suffered.

Yet here he was - seeing the proof of his own ego bleed through his fingers as he watched the man he loved die so slowly and painfully. He knew they weren't immortal. Nobody was. And yet, he held onto the foolish hope that they would be the exception to the rule.

"Tams," he rasped, voice barely carrying over the sound of the car rumbling down the road.

"Don't talk." Tamsy tried to hide the way his voice broke. "You'll waste your energy."

This shouldn't be how he was going to die. It was too soon, too painful.

"Tams, look at me." He tried again, reaching a bloody hand up, gently forcing Tamsy to look at his face and not the blood pooling around his hands. "I'm so sorry.'

"Don't - no." The words were stuck in Tamsy's throat. "I don't want to hear it. Not like this. Not now."

He looked at him, the last twinkle of light in his dying grey eyes fading as he gave him a smile. The same charming smile he had when they met, the same one he had when they started working together on research.

"No, please no." Tamsy couldn't help the tears welling up in his eyes. "Please you promised me you wouldn't go."

He didn't answer. He would never answer.

Tamsy cradled his head, finally letting the tears fall as Gris pulled into headquarters. He looked so peaceful, so calm. Tamsy wasn't sure how he would be able to accept his death like this, especially since he loved him more than he could ever say.

He still remembers the first night he met Zekaryah, when he was still trapped on the Sphere, when he was still just an object to be placed on a pedestal and admired.

He couldn't remember what compelled him to sneak out of his tower that night, but he remembered how nice it had been outside.

The breeze whispered through the trees, carrying the smell of the fresh cherry blossoms with them. He hadn't bothered to put on shoes and he remembered how the cold concrete felt against the soles of his feet, how nice it felt not to be an object for the evening. He knew it wouldn't be long before someone noticed he wasn't where he was supposed to be and hunted him down.

But for now, he couldn't help but enjoy the freedom and the freshness that came with the night.

He had been in his head, sitting by one of the cherry trees and spinning some yarn with his distaff and spindle that he always carried with him, admiring how the fallen petals looked floating in the fountain when he heard the sound of the cane hitting against the ground. His first instinct was to run, to hide behind the fountain and stay out of the sight of whichever guard was sent to hunt him down. The voices became clearer as they became closer and he realized they weren't guards. They were strangers.

"Alto said not to touch or take anything." The taller one said, his coat trailing behind him and he carried something over his shoulder, but Tamsy couldn't make out what it was in the low light.

"They have thousands of books up here, Enjin. I doubt they will miss one or..." The one with the cane hesitated for a moment, looking at the bag at his side. "Five. Look, what Alto doesn't know won't kill him."

They were teenagers still. Skinny and gangly. They hadn't seen Tamsy, he doubted they would. He should have run away the second he heard their voices, but something about them caught his attention. They were unlike anyone that Tamsy had met.

"But Alto said," the one called Enjin started to say before being cut off by the laugh of the one with the cane.

"But Alto said," he mocked. "Since when were you such a stickler for what Alto says, Enjin? I've never known you to care to follow every rule he sets for us."

Clearly this was a well worn argument between the two. Tamsy couldn't help but continue to curiously listen, despite the voice in his head telling him to run.

"It's not that I want to follow the rules all the time, but that's like the one rule he gave us. We can explore, we just can't take." Enjin was taller than the one with the cane, casting an intimidating shadow over his accomplice, but he didn't seem intimidated at all.

"Look, go find Alto. I'll return the books and what he doesn't know won't kill him." His voice had a clear smile to it.

"Will you actually return the books?" Enjin seemingly glared at him.

"Absolutely! Just let me do it before Alto finds out. I'm not too fond of public humiliation in the form of a lecture from him." He was lying. Tamsy could tell by the fake sweetness that seemed to drive into voice, it was the same tone the Priest used when he gave directions to him.

A moment of silence passed as Enjin left, headed in the direction of the chapel. He held his breath for a moment, hoping the one with a cane would leave in the direction of the library. Just so he could slip back to the confines of his tower, completely unnoticed by the guards.

"You can come out now. I promise I won't hurt you." His voice was calm, if not a bit exhausted.

Fear ran down Tamsy's spine. He had been perfectly quiet. There was no way he should know. His body followed the directions without him even thinking about it. The Priest had trained him to follow every order without question, even if it caused him pain.

Standing in front of him, Tamsy tried to keep his composure. The Angel in his head wasn't happy about it, but it was better than lashing out. This man didn't deserve the wrath of the Angel.

"I apologize for intruding, sir." He bowed, not really looking at Tamsy. "My mentor brought us here and I got extremely distracted by your library."

"It is a wonderful place." Tamsy surprised himself by keeping his voice steady. "I apologize for interrupting your conversation with your friend."

"Nonsense." He stood up, giving him a smile that made Tamsy's heart flutter. "Enjin rarely says stuff worth listening to anyway."

In the pale moonlight, now that he wasn't hiding behind the fountain, he got a good look at the man. His hair was a soft blond, much like his own, mixed with a deep crimson red. Paired with grey eyes that seemed to shimmer in the night, part of Tamsy was afraid to admit that he was attractive. His clothes were unlike anything Tamsy had seen on the sphere. There was so much color, Tamsy wanted to take his time and admire it all.

"Where are my manners?" He passed his cane to his opposite hand, reaching out his left hand towards Tamsy. "Zekaryah McCannon."

"Tamsy Caines." He reached out to shake Zekaryah's hand, barely being able to hide his shock as Zekaryah leaned down to kiss the top of his hand.

"I do intend to return these books." He stood up again, that same smile on his face as he took a step back from Tamsy's hand. "I apologize for interrupting your evening stroll, Mister Caines."

"It's perfectly fine." He pulled his hand close to his body, trying to hide how bashful he had become at the brief physical contact from Zekaryah. "You are right. They won't notice if you take one or five books."

Zekaryah laughed, a clean crisp laugh. "I still ought to. My mentor will publicly lecture me for months if he finds out and I'd like to be able to come back here at least a few more times."

"Any particular reason?" Tamsy cocked his eyebrow.

"Maybe. But we can have that conversation later." Zekaryah bowed again. "Good night Mister Caines."

"Good night Mister McCannon." Tamsy watched, trying to fight a small smile as Zekaryah walked away.

He hoped there was a chance they would see each other again.

Tamsy sat in their bed, trying to rid his mind of the image of Zekaryah's dead body laying in front of him as he slowly spun the fibers that were wrapped around his jinki.

A knock sounded on the door, tearing Tamsy away from his mindless work.

His legs were shaking as he walked to open the door, his distaff abandoned on the bed. It felt like he was going to meet the Priest again. It felt like he was becoming the Angel again. He couldn't help the fear rising up in his body.

Corvus held Wisp in his hands. The fire poker seemed so lifeless without Zekaryah. It was freezing when Corvus passed it to him.

He couldn't help but fall to the ground, the floodgate finally breaking as he sobbed and clutched the jinki close to his chest. There were no words to could be said at this moment. There were no words that Tamsy wanted to hear. This was a simple enough message.

Zekaryah was dead.

And there wasn't much that Tamsy could do to fix that.