my stomachâs all in knots, you got the one thing that I want
Luca has spent his entire life trying to make himself lovable. He finds love in the most unexpected place of all.
or
Luca and Marc are being idiots. A few tears, crashes and guilty feelings later they finally find their way back to each other.
Listen to Lacy, by Olivia Rodrigo, while reading if you want. As I will reference to the song multiple times during the story.
Warnings: mention of self harm
Growing up, Luca had everything.
Really, everything. His toys were nice; he got to ride and never had to worry about stopping if money ran out.
His brother was the coolest guy in Italy, which meant he was popular in school, and everyone wanted to be friends with him. It felt awesome, almost like being in heaven.
As Luca grew older, he realised that if he didnât talk about Vale, people would become less interested or they would just stop talking to him altogether.
At first, it really bothered and irritated him, but soon he realised that no matter what he did, he would never be Vale and the people liked Valentino Rossi, not Luca Marini.
They only liked the idea of him, of Valentino Rossi's brother, but once they got to know him, the real him, they always stopped caring.
It never mattered how hard he was on himself; he would never be as good as his brother on the bike.
But the most painful realisation was that he would never have what he truly wanted, because his brother might be cool, but he spent most of the year in countries Luca could only dream of going to one day.
He didnât know if Luca got a bad grade in maths or if somebody picked on him. He wouldnât call in the evening and check in on his little brother, because he had better things to do.
He didn't know about Luca's newly developed habits, doesn't know about the burns he has covered himself in.
Luca always told himself, "Things will change when Iâm in the world championship too", he kept repeating every night.
Some nights it worked, most of them it didnât.
Yeah, I despise my rotten mind and how much it worships you.
Luca remembers this day like it was yesterday.
He remembers sitting in front of the TV and watching the rookie, Marc Marquez, deny everyone else the MotoGP crown.
He remembers staring at the TV, completely mesmerized by those big brown eyes and the wicked smile, by the audacity to just come in full force swinging and show everyone how it's done.
Marc didn't care much about rules; he played with them, like in chess, making sure to always lay them out in his favour.
He watches him get all of Valentino's attention, and he can't help but dream that one day that would be him if he just tried hard enough.
Valentino would look at him with the same loving eyes.
"Maybe if I win like Marc, I'll be good enough," he tells himself while pretending his eyes arenât watering.
"Maybe if I win like Marc, I'll be good enough," he tells himself as he watches Vale pull Marc into a tight hug, one of those Luca hasnât gotten from his brother since kindergarten.
"Maybe if I win like Marc, I'll be good enough," he tells himself while he is listening to Marc telling the whole world how nice and supportive Valentino has been.
"Maybe if I win like Marc, I'll be good enough," he tells himself as he drops his head onto the pillow.
He glances back at the TV, and from the corner of his eye, he can see Alex, and how the first person Marc runs to is his brother.
He starts sobbing like a fool because he knows deep down he would never be anyone's first thought after winning.
"Maybe if I win like Marc, I'll be good enough," he tells himself as he steps into the shower and turns the heat up to the maximum.
"Maybe if I win like Marc, I'll be good enough," he tells himself as pain takes over his entire system.
A fool, oh yeah, heâd really been a fool for thinking it would get better once he got to the world championship.
Nothing changed; it hurt him, nearly ripped his heart out, when Vale didnât have dinner with him, instead opting to stay with Uccio.
It killed him that he never asked how his sessions went, never walked a single track with him, or hyped him up before a race.
Every time he saw Vale pull Fraco into a warm hug or offer him advice, Luca wondered what he was doing wrong.
Why was he so unlovable compared to everyone else? Why was he never enough?
He remembers sitting in a quieter corner of the paddock after a shit race, not feeling comfortable enough with anyone in the paddock to show them how much it ate on him, that he kept having those races, that it seemed like he just couldnât figure that fucking bike out, no matter how hard he tried.
He spots two figures from afar, arms wrapped around each other as they walk through the paddock.
He hears laughter and closes his eyes for a minute.
He lets himself dream, drifting into his deepest and most hidden fantasies, that this is him and Vale.
His brain is quick to bring him back to reality, reminding him that he will never be good enough for his brother.
When he opens his eyes again, he can no longer pretend itâs him and Vale, because the two figures are walking right past him; luckily, heâs still far enough away so that they wonât notice him.
He notices how Marc looks at Alex, like he is the most important and precious thing in the world, and he canât help but wonder what Alex has done for his brother to love him.
How come Vale couldnât bear spending time with Luca, but Marc was all over Alex?
Surely, he had to be doing something wrong, Alex was just more lovable than him, he tells himself as more tears run down his cheeks.
Surely that has to be it.
I see you everywhere, the sweetest torture one could bear.
The next time he is crying, he chooses a better hiding spot, between trash cans, somewhere far away from everyone.
After crashing earlier that day and not even having Vale check on him, he just needs a bit of time to let all the emotions flow out.
The tears are running down his face, and his shoulder throbs like hell, reminding him how pathetic and useless he is. Not that he told anyone about the shoulder, he was already.
He really gets why Vale doesnât like him, Luca wouldnât either like a brother that canât even ride a bike without hurting himself and crying between fucking trash cans.
Much to his despair, he hears a voice, coming closer; he canât really see anything from his hiding spot, so he simply decides to curl tighter into himself and press his head into his knees, making himself as small as possible.
He prays that whoever is walking past will just ignore his pathetic frame cowering here, but what is he even worried about? Nobody would have sympathy with a loser like him.
He takes a deep breath, desperately trying not to sob, as he feels the person walking past.
Passing him and not pausing, thank god.
But he also desperately wished for nothing more than for somebody to notice him, to comfort him, just once in his life, he wants to feel safe, like he can let go of everything he is holding in.
âLuca?â he hears someone ask, âAre you okay, did you get hurt?â the Spanish accent peaking through the words.
Luca quickly dries his tears and pushes himself up.
His movements are fast, rushed, and panicked, so he forgets about the throbbing shoulder, and a sharp pain shoots through it; he hisses and stumbles back towards the floor.
âShit, did you hurt your shoulder?â the smaller Spanish man asks him, crouching down to Lucaâs level, âShould I go get Valentino?â
Why are you being nice to me?
After everything my brother did to you?
But he canât speak; instead, he just makes a choked noise and fanatically shakes his head.
No, he doesnât want Vale to know; he already hates him enough, no need to give him another reason.
âOkay,â Marc says and sits down next to Luca as the younger one canât stop the tears from flowing down his cheeks again.
What the fuck was wrong with him?
He was so stupid, he hit his head, hard, multiple times with his hands.
Marc hisses before gently taking Lucaâs hands in his. âssshhh.â
He pulls Luca closer by his good arm and drowns him in a hug.
What did he do to deserve this?
Luca canât help but start sobbing all over again as he is pushed into the Spaniards shoulder.
His tears soak the respol Honda shirt, and Marc holds him tightly, like he hasnât been held in a long time, which is making him sob all over again.
His breathing is all over the place, and Marc gently whispers instructions in his ear, telling him to copy his breathing.
Deep breaths in, holding it, and out.
Repeat, repeat, and repeat.
Luca forgets all meaning of time; he knows at some point his breathing calms, and Marc starts rubbing soothing circles on his back.
Then he forces him up, guiding him away through the paddock, making sure that nobody sees them.
Luca wants to believe itâs because he is still a sobbing mess, but itâs probably just to shield himself from the headlines.
âMarc Marquez and Valentino Rossiâs brother spotted together in the paddock.â
âLuca Marini sobbing in Marquezâs arms. Did the pressure finally get the better of him?â
They couldnât have that, Luca gets it. It would be way too embarrassing for Marc to be spotted with him.
God, heâs so ashamed of himself, of the mess he once again created and needed to be saved out of.
Marc continues to push through the trucks, never once letting go of Luca. If he didnât know better, Luca would almost believe he cares.
He pulls him into the Mootorhome, his motorhome, Luca realises as he finally becomes aware of his surroundings again.
âSit,â Marc tells him quickly, gesturing towards the couch. Luca does as he is told, still not really present or maybe just waiting for a blow, for Marc to stop caring.
A cold sensation spreads on his shoulder, taking over the pain, and he blinks up and sees that Marc has put an ice pack on his shoulder.
âDid you go to the medical center because of that?â he asks, gesturing towards Lucaâs shoulder.
Luca can only shake his head, staring at his lap, bracing himself for disappointment or to be scolded, for the inevitable, but to his surprise, the Spaniard sits down next to him and pulls him into another hug.
âOh, Luca,â he sighs, and Luca starts crying again because he genuinely sounds like he cares.
âSorry,â Luca mumbles into Marcâs shoulder, âbut Iâve already disappointed them enough, I canât disappoint them again.â
The older one pushes him back, just enough to study Lucaâs face.
He looks concerned, but Luca doesnât understand why.
âOkay, but if it gets worse and starts bothering you for a longer time, you will go.â Luca nods, pretending he will do that even though he knows he would never âpromise meâ Marc demands, and Luca sighs, âI canât,â he says, and it comes out all broken and wrong.
Why does his voice sound so fragile? Itâs so pathetic. âOkay,â Marc says, âbut then at least promise me youâll come to me?â
âWhy- Why do you care?â Luca asks him, his tone carrying pure disbelief.
âI donât want you to get hurt, cariño.â
He hugs Luca again, and just for a minute, Luca lets himself believe that someone cares.
Ooh, I care, I care, I care, like ribbons in your hair.
The next time Luca has contact with Marc is when he goes begging for his number from people in the paddock.
After a lot of convincing that he genuinely just wants to wish him a speedy recovery, nobody believed him, of course, because why would Valentino Rossiâs brother want to wish him a speedy recovery?
Why would Valentino Rossiâs brother not be happy that Marcâs dangerous riding finally bit him in the back?
No, Marc doesnât need his pity; he probably already gets enough of that.
Why would he even want a message from Luca?
âI know nothing Iâll say will make it better, I just signed a contract for next year, and Iâd like to compete against the best, so please recover quickly. - Maroâ
He doesnât even know why he felt the need to say something; he honestly just doesnât get himself sometimes.
Marc doesnât care about him, yet here he is texting him like they are friends.
He hits his head, hands desperately trying to get his mind to shut up. Itâs like his worst enemy is always with him, always whispering into his ear, but itâs just his mind, just the truth.
He really just wants Marc back; everything that has been said sounds like a nightmare.
Alex looks horrible in Lucaâs opinion; itâs probably not helping that he is having a shit season on the Honda.
Luca often sees him eating lunch alone and has to bite down the urge to go sit with him.
Luca knows exactly how he feels; itâs how he has felt ever since he became part of the championship.
Lonely, empty, fragile, like everyone was watching but nobody cared enough to be with you.
But even worse for Alex, probably, as his brother is home and sick, and his best friend is.
Luca canât imagine how much harder that must make it.
Not that he could relate to that, he would have to have that relationship with his brother, but he doesnât; they share blood no more.
âThank you, Luca. Iâm happy youâre getting a shot, wishing you a lot of luck this season. Iâll be watching ;)â
Oh. Thatâs not what Luca expected; he actually got a reply. A nice one as well.
âI know Iâm probably the last person you want to talk to, but just letting you know you can.â
âThank you, Luca, I appreciate it. Can you do me a favour?â
âAnything,â Luca replies before even realising how that could be interpreted.
âCan you go and spend lunch with Alex, maybe not today but just at some point?â
âI think he really needs someone, heâs been looking sad.â
âYeah, I noticed, of course I will, but do you think he wants me to? Maybe someone else shouldâŠâ
âOf course heâll appreciate it, donât worry so much, Luca.â
âYeah, Iâll go look for him after Quali.â
âThank you. Good Luck!â
_____________________________________________________________
[photo: two bowls of carbonara]
âI taught him how to make real carbonara.â
âYour motorhome kitchen is nice, btw, but it really lacks the basics. Why do you only have three spoons????â
âWe donât usually cook there, Luca.â
âWell, now you do, because Iâm teaching your brother Italian cuisine, so you better go out and buy more spoons so he can take them to the next race!â
âWhy are you teaching him Italian cuisine? I told you to spend lunch with him, not turn him into a cook??â
âFirst of all, it was his idea, and secondly, Iâve been told Italian food does wonders during recovery. You better get ready to eat the best carbonara of your lifeeeee :)â
_____________________________________________________________
âOh, my god.â
âPlease teach him everything you know, that tastes like heaven.â
[Photo: Marc eating Carbonara]
âHope it helps with your recovery ;Dâ
âJajajajaj, this will make my bone heal five times faster.â
âIt's better, we miss you.â
âAh, Alex misses you, of course, â Luca types, blushing like a fool.
__________________________________________________________
âAlex told me about the infection and that youâll probably need surgery again. Iâm so sorry, that fucking sucks, but donât give up, eh? There is always light at the end of the tunnel. And if you canât see it, heâll help you find it.â
Throughout 2020, Luca sees Marc twice, and both times his arm is fucked.
He and Vale never get closer; if anything, they get more distant as Luca starts spending time with Alex.
Vale stops texting halfway through the season.
Every time Luca sees him with an academy rider, he dies a bit inside.
Every time he sees Vale pull them close, hug them, and treat them like a brother, he dies a bit inside.
Every time Vale cheers for their wins more than for Lucaâs, the little boy who once loved his brother so much dies.
He and Marc continue texting; itâs easier than talking, in Lucaâs opinion, much less nerve-racking.
To Marcâs pleasure, Luca continues teaching Alex many Italian dishes, and Luca gets a selfie every time Marc eats them.
In most of them, he looks drained, but not the normal kind, the kind that makes Lucaâs stomach drop, the kind that makes him want to drop everything and go to Cervera, despite not being welcome.
The kind that worries him, just a tiny voice of doubt in his head, if this is it, if Marc can come back from this.
People are people, but it's like you're made of angel dust
Luca doesnât see Marc again till the Portuguese GP, his third MotoGP race.
Their texting gets less once the season ends, Luca not knowing what to say and desperately trying to get ready for MotoGP.
Vale has been oddly friendly, and itâs been freaking Luca out. Â
Heâs been training with him, like actually training, outside of the academy stuff, and even offering him some advice.
When Luca finishes 12th in Portugal, he tells him how proud he is of him.
But Luca canât take it as a compliment; it doesnât feel like it, it never does with Vale.
The only thing Luca hears is that he expected him to do that well sooner, for it not to take three races.
After the race, he searches for a quiet corner, which has been harder and harder to find.
Which is why he doesnât find one and ends up with tears running down his face before he finds a place to hide.
His feet drag him to an all too familiar motorhome door, and before his brain catches up, he knocks.
Alex opens the door, takes one look at his face, and pulls him inside. He hears the door close, and he is already pulled into a hug; thatâs what undoes him, and he starts sobbing like a baby.
Alex holds him like he is something precious, just like Marc held him all those years ago.
Luca still remembers exactly how it felt, and this feels the same.
Alex drags him to the couch and gently drags him down with him, not once letting go of Luca, just holding him.
As if it could always be that simple.
He heard the door open, a small âoh,â and soon after that, he felt himself being wrapped into another set of arms.
Never has Luca felt this protected and loved, god he wished it could just stay like this.
He wished that being friends with Marc and Alex was something the public would accept.
God, he wished his brother understood him like they understand each other.
Luca does end up in their motorhome multiple times that year, not as many as the previous year, but still a few times.
He comes whenever Vale gets too much, when the deep sadness he has been carrying in his bones for years threatens to spill over.
Every time he comes, he is hugged in a tight embrace as if he belongs there, like this isnât totally weird and strange.
What happens is that Marc wins three races that year, and after all of them, Luca wants nothing more than to publicly congratulate him and hug him close.
Instead, he sends a message; he doesnât even go to their motorhome, not wanting to interrupt their celebrations.
Luca regrets it when Marc crashes while training and has another diplopia episode, missing the last races.
He wished he had hugged him after each win told him how proud he is. Instead of drowning in sadness, Luca decides to teach Alex another Italian dish.
This time, the selfie he gets back, of Marc eating the food, is not even remotely as sad as the others were; if Luca werenât so proud, he might as well have said it is cute.
What happens is that Luca finds out Vale is retiring through the press conference, like anyone else, no message, no warning, nothing.
He still does a special helmet and livery, he still hugs him close after the race, and tells him heâll miss him even though itâs a lie.
Even though heâll be happy when Vale is finally gone and canât mess with his head anymore.
Or it will get worse, the thought sneaks up on him, now heâll have time to watch everything, analyse everything, send messages, etc.
God Luca already hates it.
I feel your compliments like bullets on skin.
Marc lives in Mugello, getting another surgery.
Luca is one of the few riders who goes to see him, he knows not many came, he knows why, and he feels guilty.
It eats on him that somebody like Marc was the one who was dragging Sepang behind him instead of Vale, who has never done anything for Luca.
What happens is that Luca starts showing up at their motorhome again, teaching Alex how to cook Italian food.
Alex doesnât talk about Marc, doesnât mention that this is the last try, or how beaten Marc is.
Luca finds out through All in like everyone, watching Marc go through that gives him physical pain, itâs horrible. 2023 is better, at least for Luca.
He gets his first podium, and Marc invites him to his motorhome to celebrate, almost like he knew no one else would bother otherwise.
Meanwhile, Luca has to watch Marc be thrown through the air by the Honda nearly every weekend, and he starts realising just how deeply he cares.
What happens is that one night Marc sits him down and tells him he thinks about retiring, saying he doesnât even know why he is telling Luca.
âI just canât do it anymore, either I leave, or I stop, but this doesnât make sense,â he explains close to tears, and Luca actually starts crying, begging him to stay.
âYou have to try, please,â he says, holding onto Marcâs arm like a lifeline. âPlease,â he says while tears are running down his face, âwhy? I have already given everything, Iâm tired, Luca.â
âNo, no, you have to surpass him, you canât let him win.â He says getting up, desperately trying to get Marc to understand, âYou are so much better than him, you still have so much left to give, please donât leave.â
âNo, donât Luca me, everyone always leaves, youâre the only one that ever stayed, donât you dare leave. Please. Please donât leave me.â He begs openly, sobbing now, and he is once again pulled into Marcâs warm hug, âOkay,â the older mumbles into Lucaâs hair.
âYeah, Alex says Gresini is good, theyâve offered me a contract.â
âOkay,â Luca mumbles into Marcâs shoulder, just donât leave me.â
âNever,â Marc promises, and Luca believes him.
That was his first mistake.
When Honda approaches him, Luca canât believe it.
He never asks Marc if he put his name forward or not, but he knows that Marc has been supportive both privately and publicly, and Luca never felt as confident.
Finally, he was leaving Valeâs shadow that was still looming over him behind, and finally, he could be Luca.
Aren't you the sweetest thing on this side of Hell?
Everything did turn out okay; they just lost each other in the process. Marc joins Gresini and wins three races, makes Martin and Bagnaiaâs lives hell, and is truly back.
While Luca is settling in at Honda, being thrown across the track and getting used to everything.
Luca misses him desperately, but he is busy, and he tells himself Marc is happy, so there is no need for Luca to drag him back into his mess.
Which is why he decides to only shoot him a couple of texts after his wins.
The whole year, he pretends it doesn't bother him, because he will never admit the deep ache that lingers in his chest every night.
He will never admit how much he misses Marc's arms every night when he is lying in bed.
He will never admit how he dreams of racing Marc every night.
When Luca crashes in Suzuka, itâs like time stops running.
All he feels is pain, but not physical pain; there is an ache in his chest, and he wants Marc; thatâs all he wants right now.
e mumbles âMarcâ weakly, desperately trying to get someone to notice. âDonât worry, weâll call your emergency contact.â somebody tells him as they load him into the helicopter, and he tries to shake his head, to make them understand that he doesnât want that, but they donât get it.
Which is why he is lying alone in the hospital and knows that nobody is coming, because Vale had told him he canât.
He begs a nurse for his phone and reluctantly gets it.
He calls Marc before even realising what that means or what he will say. He simply turns to the only place he has ever received comfort from, the only person he ever felt safe with.
âLuca?â Marc asks, Luca choked on a sob, flinching in pain.
âMa-rc,â he says in pain, tears finally running freely.
âLuca, whatâs going on?â
âI - Marc, plea-se,â he sobs, not managing to get words out.
A nurse comes in, glances at him, checking his vitals, he helplessly looks at her and then back at the phone, âca-can you please?â He asks, and she takes his phone and quickly explains to Marc what happened, before she hands the phone back.
âOh, Luca,â Marc says, âAre you alone?â
âYes,â he chokes out.
The white hospital room feels like a trap, way too sterile, and he feels ever so fragile lying in the hospital bed.
His entire body throbs, pain spiking in every muscle, joint and bone.
"Hurts,â he mumbles, âI know, I know, cariño. Iâm gonna look at planes okay, but I might not be able to make it because of the next race,â he explains, and Luca canât help but sob, âitâs okay,â he tries to convince himself more than Marc.
âIâll make sure you are not alone, trust me, okay?â
âOkay,â Luca breathes out.
Finally feeling at least a bit of safety, because he believed Marc when he said heâd make sure.
In the end, Marc couldnât come, but he calls every day while Luca is in the hospital in Japan.
He keeps his promise, and soon some of Lucaâs Honda mechanics are standing in his hospital room, not asking questions, just being there. When he is transferred to Italy, Vale is fussing over him.
He and Marc stop calling, and he slips back into old habits.
Listening to Valeâs words and giving them way too much weight.
He hates Marc a little bit for not calling, for not coming to visits, especially before Mugello.
He hates being alone with his feelings and inner demons.
âYou need to try harder if you want to come back for Germany,â Valentino tells him.
Luca isnât even sure if you could call it a tell; it was more of a yell. He hates it.
He wishes Marc were here. âHarder,â Vale dictates, and Lucaâs arms start to tremble, but Vale doesnât care; itâs not like he ever cared.
Luca tries and tries, but he just canât manage to.
He stays useless, the same way itâs always been. He slips into the shower and does what he does best, punishing himself.
Ooh, I try, I try, I try but it takes over my life.
By the time he is in Mugello, he is very pissed.
He just wants Marcâs attention; he wants Marc to show him he cares, and he is gonna get it one way or another.
During the race, he is commenting.
He claims that Alex doesnât race Marc as hard as the others, that they make each other's lives easy, not attacking each other.
He hates that he does it, and he regrets it the moment the words leave his mouth.
His stomach starts feeling awful, and all he wants to do is run to Marc and tell him he didnât mean it, that he just did it to hurt Marc because he, himself, is hurt. He doesnât do anything; he just leaves his words out there.
âI saw you are here this weekend, want to meet up?â
Lucanâs heart drops as soon as he sees the message, âfuck, Iâm such an idiot.â He tells himself, hitting his head, harder and harder, till tears are running down his face.
âSorry, I have to commentate and get back home for physio straight after:/. â
âNo worries! Recovery comes first.â
He hates how nice Marc is about it, and he has no clue about what Luca did.
God, he just couldnât have anything.
If only he had waited and said nothing, then he would have known Marc truly did care, but no, his emotional ass had to be too emotional, once again.
I linger all the time, watchin', hidden in plain sight.
By Assen, everyone knows about his comments, not necessarily that they came from him, but everyone is claiming Marc is racing Alex differently, and that Alex isnât attacking him.
He sees how pissed Marc is when he watches the press conference.
âAnd today, Marco Bezzecchi, why didnât he attack me?â Marc asks into the room, and itâs silent; the guilt eats at Luca.
Why does he always have to fuck everything up?
He hates himself, hitting his head again, this time harder than ever before, so hard he is actually dizzy when he gets up.
Maybe he shouldnât have done that.
He tries to call Marc, but he doesnât pick up, and Luca panics.
Couldnât he have fucked this up right?
But he did, he hurt the only person who ever cared, the only person who ever held him and noticed him.
The only person who never misunderstood him.
He makes himself throw up into the toilet to try to get rid of it. If at least some of the guilt.
He punishes himself in the shower, with hot water, too hot water.
He does all the things he hasnât done for years, not believing he hurt the only person who ever saw him as good enough.
He just continues to prove that he isnât worth it.
And I despise my jealous eyes and how hard they fell for you.
In Germany, he returns to racing, his skin is still burned, and his eating habits havenât been this bad for a while; he hates it.
âUseless, â he mutters as he stares at the food in front of him, knowing dann well he wonât be able to keep it down.
He walks into the media centre, and from the corner of his eye, he spots Marc; his stomach drops.
âShit,â why did he actually think he could run away from this?
Quickly, he rounds the corner and steps into the crowd of journalists, answering all their questions.
After the media, when the sun starts to set, his phone rings.
Reluctantly, he takes it out of his pocket, already expecting it to be his ever-so-caring brother. But to his surprise, itâs not.
âItâs good to see you back! Corn over for dinner later? Alex is making Carbonara ;)â
âShit, shit, shit,â Luca panics, not sure how heâll get out of this one. Quickly, he tries to come up with some lie that Marc will believe, because he is certain that if he sees the Spaniard and is pulled into his arms, he will break.
He canât break; he has to function.
This was all his mess; he didnât deserve Marcâs pity.
âAhh, I donât know if Iâll have time. Really busy with the team, you know?â he quickly types
âLucaâ
âCome over for dinner.â
âI know youâre not in the garage anymore, Santi told meâ
âDamnit,â he curses himself, he should have known better, Marc was Hondaâs darling after all.
Of course, he will know if Luca is still there or not.
âStop overthinking and just come over, I want to see you.â
âPleaseâ
âFuck it,â Luca says and grabs his jacket.
He swiftly walks through the rain, and he reaches the older motorhome, and before he can even knock, the door is pulled open.
âThank God,â Marc says, and pulls him inside.
He pulls Lucaâs jacket off and hangs it on a rack.
âCariño, are you okay?â he asks, worry written all over his face as he cups Lucaâs face with his hands.
Luca takes a deep breath, his eyes begin to water, and he wishes he could just disappear.
He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out, so he just shakes his head.
Luca doesnât think Marc has ever pulled him into a hug so quickly. He is stuffed into the crook of Marcâs neck, and he canât help but sob.
Before he knows it, Marc lifts him and carries him towards the bed.
He lies down with him and pulls Luca into his arms again.
âIâm sorry I didnât come to visit, I should have come, at least when you were in Italy.â and that only makes Luca sob harder, because he wished so deeply Marc would come, but he also hadnât known how to ask.
He felt so lonely and hurt, he kinda still does.
Marc starts rubbing circles on his back as more sobs wreck Lucaâs fragile frame.
âIâm sorry, it must have been hard alone, no?â Luca still canât speak, so he just makes a painful sound between sobs that sounds more like choking than a word, but Marc still seems to get it.
âMmmhh, I know, I know,â he says, kissing Lucaâs temple, âIâm here, youâre safe? Just let go, cariño,â and Luca does.
He starts sobbing like there is no tomorrow, letting everything out, for the first time in his life.
The fear of never being enough, of not being lovable, the hurt and sting behind all of Valeâs words.
The fear of losing Marc, but never admitting it.
The hurt from the past weeks when all he wanted was this, but was too scared to ask, and Marc was too stupid to notice.
The guilt of his accusation, the way he planted that rumour in the press, and Marcâs reaction to it.
The guilt of going back to his old habitsâŠhe just lets go.
He cries and cries and continues to cry until there are no tears left, and his eyes get heavy. He falls asleep feeling as safe as he hasnât for a long time.
Marc starts playing with his hair, and Luca slowly falls asleep.
When he wakes up, heâs still in Marcâs arms.
He groggily blinks, his eyes feel swollen, he must look like a mess, still Marc looks at him with nothing but pure love.
âHey, cariño, do you feel better?â
âMmmhh?â Luca hums as he tries to push himself up, but Marc stops him, instead sitting them both up against the headboard.
âCariño,â Marc says, nudging Lucaâs face up with his fingers, âDo you want to talk about it?â
âYea, I think so,â Luca says slowly, pushing himself away from Marcâs chest so he can see his face.
âIâm sorry, Iâm so sorry.â Marc looks at him with so much love and affection that it does not kill him, âFor what?â Luca stares at his hands in his lap.
He starts anxiously playing with his fingers.
âIn Mugello, I- I told them Alex doesnât race you the same, and- I donât know what I was thinking. I donât even know what got into me, I- I think I just wante- wanted to have you close, and I was mad, I think, because you didnât come. And- and Vale was there, and he made me train with him, and he never asked- how I was doing. And I just- I just wanted you-" He stops, breathing heavily
âbreath cariño, breathâ Marc tells him, stroking his back.
âI wanted to tell you, to apologise, but then I felt so guilty when you got mad in Assen, I just-â he sobs the words out.
âYou just?â Marc asks softly, taking Lucaâs hand. Luca could tell he was trying so hard to ground him
âI just had to feel something,â Luca confesses with a choke.
âOh, Luca. What did you do?â he asks, and to Lucaâs surprise, his voice carries no judgment, so Luca pulls up his sleeves and shows him the burns. Marcâs fingers softly trace Lucaâs arm, and Luca finally meets his eyes again.
âThank you for showing me,â Marc says and he sounds so genuine it makes Lucaâs head hurt. He begins sobbing for what feels like the hundredth time as Marc pulls him into a hug.
No âyou shouldnât have done thatâ, no âyou are so sensitiveâ and no âIâm so sorry for youâ, just pure and honest acknowledgement.
At some point, he pulls back again and tells Marc everything, about Vale, about wanting Marc and being scared, about never being enough, and about feeling alone.
And Marc doesnât interrupt him, doesnât pity him; he just holds him close and listens.
Once Luca is done talking, he is pulled into a deep hug, the kind that Luca loved, but has had way to little of during his life.
Luca doesnât go back to Italy after Sachsenring; instead, Marc takes him to Spain.
He teaches Alex how to make Lasagne, and he falls asleep in Marcâs arms every night.
They donât name it then, but they both stop ignoring whatever is between them.
They settle into a routine, and they know that no matter what happens, theyâll have each other.
Luca never felt as loved as he does now, in a strange house in Madrid that he doesnât call home, but surrounded by people who actually like him and want to spend time with him.
Dear angel Lacy, eyes white as daisies
Did I ever tell you that I'm not doin' well?
It takes them a few more months till they put a name on it, but Luca knows Marc loves him even when he never said it.
And Marc knows Luca trusts him, even though the younger one also never said it.
They know theyâll have each other and come back to each other no matter what happens on the track.
What happens is that during winter break, Luca moves in with them, and Vale doesnât even look like he cares when Luca tells him, but Luca doesnât mind.
He packs his things and drives home.
Luca will never know what Vale truly thinks of him, but he stopped caring a while ago.
Luca doesnât care what the Italians think of him, and Luca isnât afraid anymore.
All he needs to know is that tonight he will eat dinner with Marc and Alex, kiss Marc, and fall asleep in his arms.
