There’s a large platform north of the room, where the DJ is, and from where you sit, you can see the hooded figure prepare tonight’s set. Above him is a large screen lined with an impressive array of speakers in varying sizes. The TV itself is still turned off — you overheard from an earlier conversation that they’ll be hosting a watch party of some sort later. The scale of it all keeps your eyes on it for a moment too long, and your friend, Vanessa, nudges you.

“Hey, you good?” She asked. You can barely hear her voice above the rising noise around you. You nod stiffly before looking at your phone to check the time: 8:30 PM. The night was still young. Plenty of hours left to leave rhyme and reason left to dry while enjoying the moonlit thrill that awaits you. But whether it was because you rarely go to these kinds of events or an entirely different reason completely, your heart thuds in your chest as you eye the numbers again. 8:30 PM.

You’re not one such individual often consumed by sonder. Your friends were all here — one of them pitched this idea to try and “get everybody out of their homes”, given that it was the peak of summer and many of you didn’t feel that interested in going to the beach this month. And so, the function eventually landed at a late-night party. Not that you were complaining, of course; again, you were with your people tonight, the drinks have just begun pouring in, and you had one hell of a night ahead of you. You were excited — but you’d be lying if you said your heart was fully in it.

8:30 PM. Somewhere out there, not even far from where you were, someone’s putting on fireproofs and wired earphones while getting handed his helmet and a bottle of water. He’s getting debriefed for some last-minute updates on a track you both know all too well, a natural retention born from repeated visits and late-night walks circling the asphalt while everyone’s asleep. Kimi Antonelli is preparing for the Singapore Grand Prix, his 100th start at Mercedes, and his first race without you.

Vanessa’s voice bleeds through your fragmented thoughts. “…you know that, right?”

You whirled your head at her. “Huh?”

“The watch-party they’re hosting is for Kimi’s race. Heard it from down below.” she said. The sound of his name from someone else’s mouth makes your blood run cold.

Your lips are dry when you replied. “Right.”

It’s not that you didn’t know. In fact, you still have the entire season calendar of this year memorized — not that you had to. Not anymore, at least. Looking back, who would have expected that your boyfriend would break up with you just before the season opener, right?

Your eyes wander back to the TV at the center of the room. Its massive size suddenly feels suffocating. The thought of Kimi’s face being flashed on screen in front of the dozens of people in this four-corner room makes you sicker than you expected. Not because you’re jealous — you weren’t crazy like that — but because seeing him from where you are now reminds you of the reality: of how far you’ve moved on from him, so much so that you’re just another watchful gaze now.

From being by his side each day and night, moments before he dives into the swarm of flashing cameras, prying eyes, and the slow, tantalizing pressure that keeps his very sport alive: reduced to another face in the crowd. It stings. Because at some point, you were more than that. You two were way more than that.

You saw the silent reflection that shadowed him after every weekend and how it gnawed at him constantly. You saw the fear he refused to show anyone else. You grounded him like an anchor before he could reach the blazing sun that you both knew he couldn’t handle then.

“Not now. Not yet at least,” you’d whispered to him. It was a rough weekend. The car was good; the pace was there. But pressure was building up all weekend, and Kimi caved. He couldn’t forgive himself. But you did. With that gentle touch and the soft hum of your voice against his hair as he shook beneath your embrace. You unraveled him in moments he refused to, even if it was slowly killing him.

You were there for it all. The highs. The lows. But that’s the heartbreaking crux: you were there. You aren’t now. Now, you’re left thinking of him in the form of fleeting thoughts, unsaid questions, and fragmented memories. Even amidst the loud music, the raving lights, and the screams of pleasure around you, nothing compares to the cacophony of your unfinished story with him. It lives on in your mind, and minutes from now, the object of your forsaken attraction will be broadcast live in front of millions to see.

It was clear: no matter how far you run, whichever corner of the world you choose to hide in, echoes of the man you love will always find you.

Now, after several months of being around him, you realize this is exactly the case. You talked to him, you guess, if the small talk in between classes and when you’re with your bigger group of friends count. He laughed at a few of your jokes, too, and you swore you saw him smile at you a few times during org meets or hangouts where everyone miraculously doesn’t mention coursework or academics more than five times.

You swore to yourself that you didn’t like him. Not in that way, at least. And you were convincing yourself pretty well, save for the times your heart would skip when you see him pass by the hallway, his head held down while he’s on his phone. Or when you run into him during vacant periods and you end up walking the same way sometimes because your lecture halls are near each other. Or when he laughed at your joke the other day and even complimented you and your work for the org.

No, it was simply nothing. Really. Truly. Not a crush at all, whatsoever.

And then you remember how he looked at you with intent and genuine pride. “Good job, this was a great initiative from you.” he said. And then you were a goner.

Or, “Hey, it’s you again! On the way to the same lecture hall?” He smiled at you, and you barely process your own words when you shake your head and say, “I’m at 203, you?”

“Bummer,” he puffed. There was no “bummer” look in his eyes. “I’m 205. Just one room away. You coming?”

You don’t even hesitate to nod. You choke out a “yeah, sure,” before following him, completely ignoring the concerningly irregular beating of your heart.

Yeah, you were a goner.

Even though many consider his legendary three films as his big break into the industry, this new project he was a part of was quickly becoming the new talk of the town. An upcoming production featuring an all-new cast of rising stars; and Kimi, the leader of this new age in the field, was at the center of it all as the director.

The first time Kimi sees you, it’s on the second week of official production. The last seven days was dedicated to mostly logistical responsibilities, like planning out sets, reviewing scenes, and a myriad of other obligations that he couldn’t be bothered to deal with. Not anymore, at least, because he’s a firm believer of never looking back once something is marked complete and accomplished. As he ticked your name off the list of confirmed cast members two days ago, he thought you were another one of those variables, too. He couldn’t be more wrong.

The usual shuffle of actors and extras poured into the room that day. A mix of excited whispers, gasps, and stunned stares filled the air as each member of the cast took their respective seats around the long table. A copy of the screenplay’s manuscript was neatly placed on top, and you carefully take the one labeled with your name in your hands. Your character’s name was neatly written on the right-hand corner, and seeing the printed ink made your chest swell in excitement and nervousness at the same time.

A director’s eyes are sharp and precise. They cover the whole room, like an inhuman sixth sense. Naturally, a prodigy like Kimi shared that affinity. And so, without even five minutes of seeing the entire group of actors, he already knew which face matched the name on the cast list. Which character he had to call the cast manager in later for adjustment. Which ones to keep, which ones to prioritize. And of course, he knows a star when he sees one.

Despite your quiet entrance, there was a glow to you that Kimi just couldn’t miss. It wasn’t the aura of a “main character”, like what George would always babble to him about. It wasn’t some commanding presence that intimidated the rest of the cast, either. It was neither of those; There was just a calm, confident, grounding air to you. Like you were immune to the usual pressure of a table read and having to impress him, the director. Like you didn’t need to prove yourself to the rest of the cast. You were just… you.

And something about that left Kimi’s gaze on you linger for a second longer than the rest. He took a look at the other cast members, of course — a brief once-over to evaluate them and some initial first impressions — but he knew it in himself that they were all fleeting. Irrelevant. Not to the play — no, he’d never allow that — but to him, personally.

As the director, everyone was important for the film. If even one member was missing, cast or production, it was Kimi’s responsibility to pull that weight. But for him, just regular Kimi Antonelli without the accolades and achievements, you were oddly important. Even creepily important. Some random cast member of a play he was working on that he met less than ten minutes ago. Important.

What was he saying?

“Everyone’s here now,” Bono said. Kimi turned to his side a little too quickly, blinking at his stage manager. Bono gave him a look.

The table reading went rather smoothly, for the most part. That is, if you could ignore the way Kimi was staring bullets at you whenever it was your line. You tried telling yourself that it was probably just another director quirk — you’ve met your fair share of animated superiors in your short time within the industry — yet you still couldn’t shake off the weight of his gaze every time you spoke.

It didn’t bother you that much, not in a significant way; but you did notice. Was he judging you? Did he think your acting was bad? Maybe he and the casting director got lost in translation and you weren’t supposed to be playing this character. Or maybe that’s just how he was.

You couldn’t really get your answer either way, because by the time you finally mustered up the courage to return the creepy stare, the stage manager had wrapped up the table reading session. You looked back down at your copy of the script and noticed that you were already on the last page of the marked scene. There goes your chance at confrontation.

You didn’t really mind. After all, it might just be Kimi’s specific quirk — most, if not all the directors you’ve worked under had some sort of eccentricity to them — and it was what made them and your experience with them unique. It created this sense of individuality within them, like they were their own person, and their work was truly theirs.

This one film you starred in had a director with a weird affinity for the color pink; She made sure that each set design had some kind of pink object present, no matter the size. Another director always made sure to always gather the entire crew together at the end of every filming day for a brief talk that would consist of him thanking everyone for their hard work; It was a kind gesture that never failed to reassure you.

Of course, these were all wholesome, harmless oddities that didn’t carry any malicious intent to them — and although you wanted to give Kimi the benefit of the doubt, that heavy look he gave you hours ago just wouldn’t leave your head. Maybe he was just perceptive. Observant. Directors are like that. They’re particular with their actors not because they’re judgmental, but because they want the best for them and the film. Right.

The next time Kimi sees you, it’s on set. Everyone is preparing for the first mounting of the day; Stagehands were talking off his right ear about angles, spikes, and queues while Bono was on his other reminding him about his schedule after rehearsals. Put simply, he could have easily been so overstimulated from all the noise around him — but Kimi simply couldn’t care less. Or he did, just the part of him that was actually focused on the film and being responsible and a good role model to the team and whatnot.

But at the end of the day, he was just a kid, too. Some teenager who somehow landed a big opportunity to make a theater production with a bunch of adults and a few other teenagers. And sometimes, when he’s not looking at the script and the cues, his teenage mind wanders off to one of the other teenagers in the room.

You’re reading your script for one last time while one of the assistant stage managers, Aliyah, fusses over what seems to be one of your props — which he thinks is already perfect — as you prepare for the first scene. From afar, Kimi sees you mutter a ‘thank you’ to her, smiling.

Whether it was the set’s artificial lighting, the makeup that accentuated your features, or just the genuine joy and warmth in your expression, something in that fleeting moment made Kimi’s heart stutter.

He blinks away before you catch him looking. Some part of him thinks that he’s a little creepy with how much he stares at you. He’d be right, if only he knew.

It’s Bono’s voice that unfortunately shakes him back to reality. He's nudging him on the shoulder.

“Kimi? Kimi, hello?”

“…What?”

His tone comes off as deadpan, although it wasn’t on purpose. But Bono doesn’t seem to mind.

“We’re starting in five. Have you reviewed the notes from the table reading?” He asked.

Kimi opens his mouth to reply yes, but he realizes that would be a lie. Not entirely, at least. He did review both his and Bono’s notes from the table reading, that’s true; Except he only really, truly, obsessively read through yours. Just the bullet points written down under your name and your character. And then he passively skimmed through everyone else.

Kimi wanted to slap his past self for his smitten behavior. What was it about you that was so special, anyway?

As he thought about it, his eyes wandered back to where you were on the stage. From where Kimi was at the side, you looked as if you truly belonged on this side of the theater. Even without all the cosmetics and spotlight, your aura and your person just seemed so perfect for the story that was already unfolding in his mind. And this wasn’t biased.

For once, it wasn’t Kimi’s heart who spoke for you. Your own experiences were language enough that translated your raw skill as an actor and further solidified not only the director's, but the entire team’s trust in you as their leading lady.

You were still considered somewhat of a starlet in the industry, having done roles in a few known productions and appearing in some short films. These sporadic appearances, although meager, were — in the viewers and fans’ eyes — nothing short of spectacular. They considered you a criminally underrated actress who deserved ample recognition in a film that was equal to your caliber.

But unlike Kimi, you were yet to receive your first big break; So, many consider this upcoming production to be the one for you. With your role as the leading lady and the news of the industry’s hottest rising director collaborating with a promising talent like yours, noise was bound to accumulate.

When reading your name off the cast of characters two weeks ago, Kimi expected to be affected by it — the rumors, the racket about your skill — but watching you read your lines with razor-sharp focus in your eyes and an air of silent confidence, he realizes that the chatter wasn’t the only thing that got to him.

It was the silent discipline that shadowed your every move; the intent behind every line delivered, raw emotion dripping from each word. You had talent. And beyond that, you had this charm to you that captivated Kimi in a way no one ever had before. It was an intrigue that laid beyond the stage. It was you.

He gives a short nod to Bono before turning your way. “Yeah, I have. Cues in ten? I’ll just give her some of my notes.”

“Huh? But you could do that after the first run—”

Kimi was already walking towards you.

You were still focused on reading a page off the script, scene 2, it said on the upper left side of the paper, when you notice a new figure approaching you. You look up. It's Kimi.

"Hi," he said. "I don't think we've properly been introduced."

You blinked at him. He was your age, the few that were on the team. His uncanny professionalism alongside his almost rigid stance that you notice from one look made you crack a smile and a few giggles. "Hi, yeah, this is our first conversation."

Kimi sees the glee in your face and his heart skips. Again. Did he have something on his face? Did he say something wrong? Either way, he made you smile. And giggle. He wanted to do it again. He's willing to go through flaming rings just to hear your laugh again.

He drags himself back into reality before he sinks even deeper into the abyss of his own feelings. Steadies his voice before it cracks mid-sentence. "Your delivery yesterday was great,"

And just like that, Kimi was back in his element. The teenager front retreated into the back of his head, and the sharp professional took over both mind and body. You noticed this too, and you fix your posture subconsciously. Like it was muscle memory, to keep your ears perked up when you know the director's about to give you notes.

"But I'll need you to translate that into action today. Our first run is in a few minutes, and I see that you've been hard at work since earlier today at the briefing," He gestures to the forgotten script in your left hand. "That's good. I'm looking forward to your first scene."

His compliment makes your chest swell. The words pierced through your heart and cemented themselves in your mind, like a mantra that you'd be repeating for the next month of rehearsals. "Thank you. I hope I don't disappoint." You said with a smile.

Kimi's words reach his mouth faster than blood to his beating heart. "I know you won't."

"Oh—"

He doesn't even see the surprise on your face. He just turns his heel, back to Bono's direction, all while hoping he sinks in between the creaky floorboards underneath him. That was embarrassing. That entire conversation was shameful, actually. His pathetic excuse for "notes" earlier didn't even make sense. What did he mean by "translating into action"? It sounded like he didn't trust you enough as an actress to do your job. It was stupid. He was stupid.

Kimi bumps into Bono's chest, and it's his third awakening that day from his entrancing crush on you. He looks up at the older man, who's looking at him with one brow raised.

"You know," he said, "you've been out of it since yesterday. You're not the type to have coincidences."

Kimi looks away. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Don't play with me, Kimi." Bono laughed. "So, you've got a crush?"

"No, I don't."

"Really? Then what was those notes for Miss Leading Lady over there, then?"

"Exactly what you said," Kimi shrugged. "Notes." He hoped he was convincing enough.

Bono gives him a look. Glances over his shoulder to you, who was now practicing a few lines with a prop. Then back at Kimi. "Notes. Really."

"Really. Now, can you cue them already? It's almost ten." He said with false irritation in his voice.

Bono catches that, the quip in his words as he speaks, but only smiles. "You got it."

Over the next few weeks, you and Kimi entered some state of harmony. It usually took a few several weeks for a director to confidently proclaim that his vision is realized on the stage, but with Kimi, it felt like either his standards were too low that it was fulfilled long ago, or they were so high and you were such a talented actress that you reached it before he even made it exist.

Put simply, you were the perfect instrument to the music he wanted to create. The perfect storyteller that brought his tale to life. You knew exactly what he wanted to achieve through this play — the message he wanted to send, the emotions he wanted you to portray in every scene — it was like you were reading his mind with every note that came your way.

Kimi felt so seen by this. Both as a director, and someone who was hopelessly smitten for you. On one hand, he was awestruck with how your acting filled the stage with so much life; And he was absolutely captivated with your personality both on and off the stand.

Acting was your life. It was what made you feel alive, you once told him, and he understood why. Someone so full of love and fervor is bound to spread it to those around them, just like what you were doing. While Kimi had skill and discernment in the arts, you had talent and passion. Together, you formed a powerful duo capable of creating and telling the most compelling of stories.

Noise from the outside began to grow louder and louder as each week of production passed. PR had absolutely gone crazy with the promotion, capitalizing on your amazing acting and teasing Kimi's next magnum opus in the industry. It was quickly becoming one of the most anticipated plays of the year, directly putting the both of you under the watchful gaze of the world.

If it were any other production, Kimi would have been drowning in self-doubt by now. The shadow of a thousand eyes on him and his creation always made Kimi shake. Not on the outside — never — but inside. He hated the thought of people hating his art. Months of work poured into a long, continuous strip of frames and photos defined who he was. And although the critiques would always be overwhelmingly positive, the shadow of uncertainty and disingenuity haunted Kimi everywhere he went. It was like no matter how many films, productions, and art he made, he'd still feel like it wasn't enough.

But this one was different. What felt like pressure from thousands seemed to melt at the thought of you carrying it beautifully — after all, Kimi was the director, but your face was going to be on the headlines more. It was you who was going to be on that stage, being watched by an audience comprised of all kinds of people. Dozens of eyes on you, under the limelight, with the pressure of months of work riding on your shoulders on one scene. Your position was just as terrifying as his.

And yet, when he asks you if you're nervous, you simply give him a smile. One that reaches your eyes, like you were waiting for that question. Then, you shake your head. As if you just shook off all the mounting pressure that was building up around the both of you.

It was the day before the first showing. The entire team had finished packing up a few hours ago, excusing themselves to prepare all the props and equipment for tomorrow morning. Bono gave Kimi one more knowing look before going on ahead with the rest of the stage managers that evening, laughing as he disappeared into the black curtains.

The stage is oddly peaceful. All the technical lights have been turned off in anticipation for tomorrow, with only a few dimming light bulbs illuminating the otherwise dark but cozy theater. Each and every seat in the audience's side was empty, a sight that the both of you knew was the opposite of what awaited the next day. You both took a seat at the edge of the stage, legs dangling above the red carpet down below.

That's when Kimi asks you the classic question: were you ready?

He didn't know what kind of answer he was expecting. All he knew was that he was going to listen to whatever you were going to say.

"No, I don't think I'm that nervous," You told him. "If anything, I'm excited. I always am, with these things."

"Excited?"

"Yeah. I mean, it's my job now, but it started as a passion." You said. "Before I had all these opportunities, callbacks just one ring away, I was just a kid who was willing to do anything for a chance to be on stage."

Your smile shrinks. "I took every chance I got back then. Whether I was an extra in just one scene, part of the ensemble, or juggling multiple shows at once." A laugh escapes your lips. "You could even say I was pretty greedy."

Memories of your first time under the spotlight flood your mind. The adrenaline of all eyes on you. The applause that came after the curtain call. "But I was happy. I was so happy to be up there, to have people watch me make an utter fool of myself, shape shift into different people, scream at the top of my lungs — I just loved it all."

"And I still do," you said with a breath. "That's why I don't get nervous. Because my time on the stage is too short to be wasted fussing over what to say or where to go next. I just follow the light — wherever it goes, I follow. And I hope the audience remembers me."

Kimi watched as you continued to tell stories of your past. How you were roped into your first production, the moments that cemented your commitment as an actress, and the failures that reminded you of how much you still had to learn despite having come so far.

"You know," you said, looking at him, "I've never actually gotten flowers from anyone."

Kimi blinks. "Ever?"

Actors would be given bouquets of all kinds of flora after a successful project, as a form of thanks for all their hard work. Kimi looks at you like you've grown a separate head, because he wonders how someone like you couldn't have been rewarded something like that at all. You had to be joking.

"Ever," you laughed. "It's not that it matters. I'm there for the audience, and, flowers or not, I got my chance to be on stage."

Kimi frowned. You deserved some kind of recognition beyond perception. He's seen how hard you've worked the past several weeks, and as a director, he's incredibly grateful for the time and effort you've put in not only as an actress, but as a person. You were committed, focused, and disciplined, alongside being incredibly talented and passionate. Thinking of all your virtues made him fall even more, and knowing now that the rest of the world can barely pay you back for it, irritates him in a way he can't explain.

He doesn't even hesitate. "I'll get you some, then. After the first night."

It was your turn to blink at him this time. "Huh?"

"Flowers, right? I honestly think you deserve more than that, if you ask me, but they seem appropriate for the occasion, so…"

Kimi is about to explain how you were worthy of so much more than a grand bouquet and more of a two-month long vacation for your service, but he cuts himself off when he hears the familiar sound of your laugh. The sound he loves so much.

He turns to you and sees the smile he's fallen for all those weeks ago, but bigger. Brighter. "What?"

"Nothing," you said, still laughing, "I just never thought that my director would be the first to give me flowers in my entire career."

Kimi clears his throat louder than he should have. Almost chokes, actually. "Well, again, like I said, you technically deserve more than just that, but since you explicitly—"

"And you're being overly corporate. Again,"

"Sorry."

Your smile widens. He thinks it could light up the whole stage tomorrow. "Don't apologize. I think it's cute."

The moment lingers for a while. Your words hang suspended in the air, and Kimi freezes. He just stares at you, wondering to himself if he heard right and wasn't being delusional and entranced like usual — and when you stare back, he realizes it's real. The moment is real.

Neither of you move. Just staring into each other's eyes, the promise of flowers and maybe something more left as an unanswered question. Kimi's practically reeling at this point, replaying your words in his mind as if it could bring back the moment in time. But nothing is repeated. Nothing is left behind. You simply stare at him with an unreadable look in your eyes, and he realizes then that he wants nothing more than to close the cavernous distance and kiss you.

But he doesn't. You don't seem any less disappointed or surprised. Your mask persists, and he realizes that you, too, understand that some lines shouldn't be crossed. In Kimi's eyes, you were both an actress he respected and a woman he deeply loved. Somehow, his unrequited pining went unnoticed throughout the past weeks, and yet his heart doesn't bleed from it's illicitness. In fact, he appreciated it in some ways; This way, he can look at you fondly from afar without prying eyes or overly curious questions.

Kimi sucks in a breath, and the moment ends. His inhale is sharp. Forced. But needed, given the situation. You both had a show to catch tomorrow; the last thing he wanted was for his leading lady to be distracted by his own flowery words, literally and figuratively.

"We should get going," he said, to his own dismay.

You wordlessly nod, your smile persisting. Despite his own heart sinking from the missed opportunity, Kimi leads you out into the exit of the theater. As the both of you walk into the night, he feels as if he left a part of himself within the velvet walls. It takes everything in him not to look back.

The day of the show arrives. It's a whirlwind all throughout, from first light until first chimes. Kimi himself is lost in the chaos of actors, audiences, crew, and everything in between. Directors usually stay with the stage managers at the tech booth, tasked with overseeing the entire program. It's a heavy task that consumes the entire halve of the team all-day, and in some cases, Kimi would be so busy that he'd go unseen by the entire company until the last curtain call.

He's around Bono, Alyssa, and all the other stage managers and assistant directors at the tech booth from eight in the morning for spotlighting until twelve in the afternoon just before lunch time. If that even exists for him right now. He wonders if you're eating well while he's overlooking the fifth run-through of the day when one of the stagehands calls for him. Something about notes for the cast before the second show this evening.

As he walks toward the stage, Kimi realizes this is the first time he'll be seeing you today. Second, if you count the glimpse of white, yellow, and silver that he saw of you five hours ago. Both his ears were being talked off by Bono that time, and you were in the middle of preparing not only your costume, but the other cast members' too, which meant neither of you had time to stop and greet each other mid pre-show chaos.

He catches himself wondering what you look like in your full show attire. He reviewed the costume pegs ages ago, and he still vaguely remembers Alyssa's incessant nagging on "detailed notes" when she first showed the binder of clothing, cloth, and palettes to him. Kimi wasn't a fashion connoisseur by any means, but he was still the director, and he had a responsibility over what the visuals of his production would look like under the spotlight. That didn't mean he was picky, though. Whatever looked good in his eyes was enough.

And when he saw the board for your character, Kimi thinks that it's perfect. No notes whatsoever. He already knows that you're beautiful, and the audience will frankly be blessed once they see you donned in layers of fine cloth, glimmering jewelry, and your radiant smile to top it all off.

He gets the very late realization that he will see that all first-hand in mere seconds, and he doesn't get a moment to prepare as the holding room doors swing open. Inside, there is an organized calamity within the four-cornered room; Cast members passing makeup brushes around like a hot potato, a silent mess of quick change costumes abandoned in one corner, snacks piled up next to the vanity mirror like bunker rations. There is a faint smell of various perfumes, a pleasant mix of vanilla and wood wafting around the air, as if separating the cast from the audience outside. They all freeze when they see Kimi at the door.

"Hi, Director," they all say one after another. He hears your voice among them, and he smiles.

"Hey everyone, just checking in. Great show earlier." He said. A few cast members clap, the others smile. Morale is still high, even after an exhausting program. That was good.

And then he hears you. By the corner, mascara on one hand, a piece of white ribbon wrapped around the other. "Couldn't have done it without you."

You're covered in white from head to toe, like a bride to a wedding he wishes was yours and his. Layers of satin and silk wrap around you, from the beautiful dress masterfully sewn to your frame

Kimi chuckled. "I could say the same."

No one catches the nuance in his or your words. They laugh alongside him, but he sees your smile before you turn back around to the mirror. His chest swells. The room shrinks, and he knows it's just his own eyes and not the world. He turns around before he can feel anything more that could ruin your focus, or himself.

He's still reeling when he returns to the tech booth, and he's greeted by Bono's knowing look once again. Kimi rolled his eyes. "Not what you think. Again."

"I didn't say anything this time, son," he said, holding up his hands. "Although you were probably starstruck, weren't you?"

Kimi doesn't even open his mouth to speak. Doesn't nod, either. Bono already knows the answer, and he smiles.

There are no words for the kind of performance you throw in the second show. To say it was beautiful or even life-changing is an understatement — You were wonderful, beautiful, a whirlwind of talent and grace and elegance all throughout. Kimi wasn't the only one mesmerized by your presence on that stage. It wasn't just the tech booth who stayed silent as you sang, danced, screamed, and cried. It was everyone in the theater. You had captivated them all, and not a single eye in the room could tear their gaze away from you.

Every time you entered from the backstage, he could feel your energy fill the entire theater, and he, too, sensed the anticipation within the audience once the spotlight hit you. You just had this way of acting, of showing the raw emotion through action and words.

He was there for every rehearsal. Every scene. He memorizes this show and its cues like the back of his hand. But you? You took all of that, everything he knows, and shaped it into what could only be described as a work of art. Kimi is confident to say that he was the director of this show. But he was proud to call you his actor. The person who brought his canvassed work to life.

That was it. That was what you were so good at doing. You breathed life and spirit into stories, and through it, you captivated people, audiences, him. You didn't just play a character. You became them, in those short bouts of monologue and action — those fleeting moments of you on stage were genuine in a way that pierced the hearts of everyone in the room. And he loved it. He loved you.

He loved how talented you were. He loved how beautiful you were on stage, shining underneath the limelight like a radiant star. You were so full of love, passion, and life for this craft that he was so blessed to share with you. And as a director, he was beyond amazed and grateful to you for picking up the script and joining him in the creation of this show. But as a person, as someone who was so hopelessly devoted and smitten for you and all your beauty, he was proud. So, so proud and elated that he met someone like you, to see you doing what you love the most, and being by your side throughout this journey.

The show ends with cheers and applause from the audience. As the cast shuffles onto the stage, bowing and thanking the crowd and those above, Kimi remembers something you once told him. It was a month ago, a little over a few weeks after that fated meeting at the table read.

"I think my favorite place in the world is on stage, immediately after a show." You said over a cup of hot chocolate. You both wanted to grab a drink after rehearsals, and he found out earlier that day that you had an aversion of caffeine during show season. Something about taking care of your voice and health.

He looks at you taking a sip from your cup. "Really?"

"Yeah. You know, when the audience is clapping so much and it's so loud that it's the only thing you hear in the room? And then the spotlights are so bright you can barely see anything at all. It's like, all you see is white, and all you can hear is this.. sound of applause."

There's a glint in your eyes as you describe it. Something shines in your irises, like pride and passion. "It's amazing. Life-changing, actually. The first time I heard it, I wanted to cry."

"Was it overwhelming?"

"Yeah. But it was so fulfilling, too. Knowing that I just poured my heart out on stage — practically left my guts there and everything — and everyone who watched loved it. That sticks with you, you know?" You frowned after taking another sip. "Wow. That was hot. And kind of bitter."

Kimi fishes for a tissue in his pockets. "Ah, are you okay—"

"Yep, it's fine," you said. "Anyway,"

"That kind of thing… the audience clapping, the spotlights shining on you.. I love that. All of that. It's one of my favorite parts of this job. Of this dream. I can't believe I get to do all of this, you know? It's kind of surreal sometimes."

Kimi watches you silently as you take another hesitant sip from your already half-emptied cup. Even as you've both finished your drinks, you continue to talk about your first curtain call, and how you felt so fulfilled and certain afterwards. He listens without a word.

When he blinks, it's finally your turn on the stage. You're smiling from ear to ear as you practically run to the center, taking a deep bow for the audience three times. The crowd cheers, and your grin widens. You pause, still smiling, your eyes daring all around the room. You're content. Happy. He can see that all the way from here.

And, as if you heard his thoughts, you make a gesture towards him and everyone else on the tech booth. The audience claps again, and you clap with them. This time, your smile is fully toward him, and your gaze sends Kimi a silent message. Thank you.

The theater was slowly cleared of its occupants, and the stage was cleared of its props and taped spikes. Cast members excitedly rush to their family, friends, and loved ones awaiting them near the seats, welcoming them with a hug and a squeal of pride and congratulations. There's a small, controlled cacophony of "I'm proud of you," "Congrats on your show," and "You did amazing" floating around each tiny group of people, as Kimi struggles to snake through all of them to find you.

He finally gets to the end of the crowd, and he spots you among a small gathering of crew members. He peers at the bouquet in his hands. It's quite obvious because of its size, and the flowers he chose were even more eye-catching. He sighs in relief when he sees they're unharmed. The last thing he wants is to give his leading lady a bunch of squeezed lilies wrapped in paper and ribbons.

Your laugh is within earshot from where he was. It's melodious as usual, but this time, Kimi notices a little more joy and contentment in between each giggle. Your smile is also brighter, like you just won an award. In his heart you have.

You don't even notice him walking toward you. He taps your shoulder, and that's when you turn around. Kimi doesn't waste any time, and you can barely react when he hands the bouquet to you. "Congratulations on your show,"

He says your name with such soft tenderness that he's scared of ever saying it again. It's a fragile thing, calling you by that, like something only saved for special occasions. He wonders if you think that, too.

Your eyes widen at the flowers. They were your favorite. Kimi made sure to get them specifically, but you didn't know. There's a pause, a brief moment of silence between you two, and he notices that the crew members earlier had deserted you both ever since he got here. His sudden lonesome adds to his ever-increasing anxiety.

"Kimi, I.." You trailed off. You don't even get finish your sentence as tears begin to fall from your face, and you start crying. Your thank you is choked up in between gasps, and Kimi doesn't know what to do. His chest tightens at the sight of your tears, but you're laughing while sobbing, and he understands that these were happy tears. You were grateful. And he was glad.

"Hey, don't cry —"

"Sorry, I just didn't expect you to do this," you sniffed finally, gesturing to the bouquet. Your eyes are red from all the crying — which you still were — but you were smiling. "Just because no one has ever gotten me flowers before doesn't mean I was asking for them."

Kimi shook his head. "I know. But you didn't need to ask. I was going to give you some, anyway. I told you, didn't I?"

You nodded, still in shock, as you held the bouquet close to your chest. "Thank you. So much."

"Always."

Kimi doesn't know what the future held for the both of you from here. After today, you both would go back to your normal lives, with no guarantee of seeing or hearing from one another without a rehearsal or a cast meeting tying you both together. It was all uncertain. A mystery that could only be solved by greeting tomorrow. And yet, both you and Kimi knew this wasn't the end.

From now on, you will always receive flowers after every show. There will always be a crowd watching you on the stage, and Kimi will always be supporting you, whether that be from the tech booth or the audience's seats. He was going to be there for every milestone. Every film you were to star in, every production you'd become a part of — he was always going to be there. He's promised himself to be there for when you go on stage not for a role, but for an award recognizing you and all your talent and glory.

He knew you by name once, in a passing gaze as he read yours in a cast's list. His heart had been yours from then on. And when he sees the look in your eyes as you walk out of the theater together, he realizes that he may have won yours, too. In between all the cliches and cues.

You wouldn’t exactly call it workplace drama. It technically doesn’t fall under that category, you and Kimi — but there was history. Whether it was negligible is up to debate, and something you’ve battled with yourself for the past two months. There were, however, some undeniable facts amidst the gossip that you were secretly hoping dissolved into forgotten bygones now.

The two of you were an item for quite a while last season, but you weren’t some big shot wag who made waves in the gossip circle. You were a quiet, constant presence, someone who managed to avoid the cameras and the glitz and the glam that came with it all — but people knew who you were. What you two were. The important names, at least, recognized you, acknowledged what you two had, and respected it.

This deliberate secrecy wasn’t out of shame or fear; it was something you two agreed to do, because of so many reasons and factors that you both didn’t want to risk involving. Mostly, it was the unnecessary pressure and prying eyes that haunted every couple on the track. The unwanted glances that stayed all throughout the week, the gossip that swirled around the paddock before and after every session — neither of you wanted any part in it all.

And yet, even if you both promised to never look behind your backs and into the piercing gaze of critics and knockers alike, they found you anyway. In the quiet silence in between races that you both once claimed as your peace slowly devolved into a temporary calm before the storm. Suddenly, the paddock seemed to pay more attention to the pair of you — to Kimi and his mistakes, to you and how they pointed their fingers at your presence as if you were to blame for it.

It was bearable at first. Two days before one of the triple headers last season, Kimi reassured you of your worries. You still remember how you stood by the glass window, away from him on the bed. You wanted to keep your distance that night. Try and put his mind off you, because the talk of you being a “distraction” to his improvement had become a hot topic that week.

“I’ll be okay, I promise,” he said. His voice was gentle and warm, like a blanket laid on you to hide away from the rest of the world and their noise. You wanted to trust him. You wanted to sink into his familiar arms, close your eyes, and watch time pass by.

You kept your back turned to him. “I know. But I still think it’s better that I stay low for a while.”

We, you wanted to say. **You wanted to tell him that we should stay low for a while, because you were scared of the pressure that might crush him before he even notices it. You knew that this was a crucial point in time for Kimi — the car was doing good, he was doing good, everything felt like it was building up into something great — you were scared to be the one thing that would bring him down.

But you bite your tongue. Hold the words back. Maybe you could tell him another time.

You never do. It turns out that time had different plans for the both of you; and some words are better off unsaid than spoken into existence.

So, they die in the back of your mouth. Rot until you forget they’re even there. And overtime, your memory of what you wanted to say will soon fade, too. Until they come back in moments like this. When you think you’ve outrun the tide you almost drowned in, but you’ve only truly just waited for the tide to sink.

News of Kimi Antonelli cinching a record pole position spread like wildfire across the track. When you thought it couldn’t reach you, whispers of how he made history and is now practically immortalized into the asphalt somehow still made itself heard. It didn’t feel real. Not because you thought he was undeserving, but because you still remember the way he used to talk to you about these achievements that were once milestones he struggled to believe were attainable.

“Where do you want your first win to be?” You once asked him. He gave you a look and a laugh first before answering, as if your question was something silly.

“Well,” he started, his face a mixture of excitement and confusion. “I’d obviously want it to be Imola, you know? Closest to home and stuff. But…”

He trailed off in deep thought, as if a haunting memory stopped him from saying the next words. You knew what it was. The pressure, the uncertainty. The constant weight on his shoulders carrying a reputation bigger than him. It was heavy, and you wanted him to know that he never needs to bear it alone. That you’re there.

The thought feels so distant now. Like a bygone era that faded from everyone’s memories. You wonder if he thought of you, though. Against your logic and the thousand nights of tears, you find yourself restrained to the thought of him remembering you.

You get your answer sooner than you expected. Maybe too soon, but when it comes to love, is there truly such a thing as timing? Or is it all destiny?

You push the rest of your questions down into the earthy ground when you see him catch a glimpse of you across the garage, and whether he was too quick with his stride or you were slowed by shock, the two of you ended up face to face with one another eventually; Sandwiched in between shuffling engineers, mechanics, chaotic callouts of data, parts, and everything under the sweltering Australian sun.

You blink once. Twice. According to Charlotte, your friend and workmate from George’s side of the garage, you weren’t supposed to see Kimi until tomorrow during practice. It was a Saturday afternoon. Hours after practice. Why was he here?

Then again, to be fair to him, you technically weren’t supposed to be here. Kind of. Maybe it was a mutual fault. Or maybe you should’ve asked to switch garages over the summer to avoid this fiasco completely. You didn’t, mostly because you felt at home in Kimi’s side of Mercedes.

You didn’t want to admit it, but your obligatory presence in his garage was one of the only things you had left of what felt like being close to him. And even if you claimed to have gotten over everything, you still wanted to be here. Nearby. Waiting. A constant in his world that was always in motion.

“Hi,” he said. One word. Just a simple greeting, is all. He doesn’t smile at you, but he isn’t frowning, either. You realize then that his expression is completely unreadable.

Your lips are dry when you reply. “Hi, ready for tomorrow?”

Ready for tomorrow? What did that even mean? The metallic sheen of the floor suddenly seemed so interesting. You wanted to dig yourself right down into it.

“Yeah, definitely,” Kimi said. Almost too fast, you note to yourself. There’s an unusual glow to him today. And it wasn’t because of clinching pole, you thought to yourself. There was something else. Something that you’ve been wanting to confirm for yourself but are too ashamed of admitting to. You push the feeling down along with everything from earlier, though, and focus on a specific curl on his hair. Anything to keep your eyes off his own, you thought.

“That’s great. Means our work paid off, you know?” You joked as you gestured to the idle screen across you. Kimi barely reacts, his mask persistent, and you swear that the data from your screen just laughed. Tough crowd.

You barely hear the laugh that escapes his mouth. It sounds exactly the same, the sound echoing in your ears and taking you back to simpler times. When the two of you were just… you, two kids with dreams and a life full of surprises and twists waiting ahead of them. Back when there weren’t any prying eyes hiding in between clandestine meetings, or the shadow of inevitable pressure that threatened to consume Kimi alive. As you painfully drag your gaze back to meet his own, you wonder once again if he’s thinking of the same possibilities and bygones as you.

But before the nostalgia drags you back down into the abyss of yearning and longing, you clap your hands together. Almost a little too loud, you notice, when you see Bono peek his head from the ginormous cubicle at your side. You mutter a sorry before turning back to Kimi. Looking at him is a little less painful now, after being in his midst for a few agonizing minutes.

“Right,” you began. “I have to go. Data to analyze, laps to look at. You know, the usual,” you said. Almost too quickly, you notice, because as you turn back around to scurry off into some random corner of the paddock, you hear Kimi call out to you. His next words render you still in your tracks.

“Wait. You’re an analyst here now?” He spoke. Even if you didn’t see him, you could hear the surprise in his tone. Like he was asking a question he was uncertain rather than sure about.

And that’s when it hits you. Right. You didn’t tell him about your promotion. About how you climbed the corporate ladder and was one step closer to your dream, just like how he was slowly inching towards his.

“Yeah,” A shaky breath escapes your lips. “I, um, got promoted a little over a month ago.” Just after we broke up, actually, “We’ll be working closer from now on.”

You didn’t want to look back at Kimi and see his reaction. You were scared of what kind of expression would greet you if you did. Maybe he’d smile and say he was proud of you. Maybe he’d be too stunned to speak, and he’d just stare at you wide-eyed before leaving. Or maybe he just wouldn’t react at all.

Four months without him, his presence, and his love taught you to not look back. Countless nights of telling yourself to get over it and reassuring your mending heart that it’ll heal wasn’t going to be shattered by just one glance.

Kimi’s voice cuts through the thickening air around you. You don’t even realize how much time had passed. It was just a beat, because you hear him say, “See you tomorrow, then.” with the same unreadable tone from earlier. You feel yourself flinch slightly. Barely. You hope he didn’t notice.

The next sighting you had of a secret flowery holiday was over the phone with your friend, Mia, who proudly showed her singular yellow daffodil that she bought for herself just earlier. Even though it was simply a picture on the screen, you couldn’t help but smell its pleasant scent out of the pixels. Weird.

Although you haven’t been in Florence for long, you recognized your general neighborhood enough to know that the closest flower vendor was at least several minutes away. So, what’s with the sudden floral sale?

You didn’t know, and you didn’t really care, until you received a message from Kimi that he was in town this week for some testing. This gave you an idea, albeit impulsive, but was enough to push you out the door and search for your own flowery present yourself.

Eventually, after several minutes of walking and shopping, you dropped back down to your apartment floor with a fresh posy of daisies, carnations, freesias. You were able to place them on the counter before dramatically reuniting with the shiny wooden floor to ponder about how to give Kimi his gift.

Turns out, you didn’t need to mull it over for that long, because after an hour or so, a knock came through your door and swung open. Kimi waltzed into the apartment like he owned it, looking around as if there were new trinkets that were born into the world in his absence.

You peeked out from the kitchen, where you were in the middle of rearranging the posy to look a bit more homely and presentable — just in case Kimi decides to throw away your money’s worth and give it to Maggie or something.

“Kimi,” you said, blinking at him. He was patting down the sofa to sit down when he looks right back at you, an expectant smile on his face. “I almost thought you weren’t here.”

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up.”

He laughs, and you emerge from your marble counter to reveal the neat bunch of flowers in your hands. The daisies, carnations, and freesias were positioned in a round pattern, creating a view of yellow, white, and pink shades. It truly seemed like an uncharacteristic gift for a teenage boy — a clump of colorful petals — but since the occasion seemed to call for it, you decided to disregard society’s rules just this once. Who cares, anyway?

Much to your surprise, Kimi didn’t either, because his eyes immediately light up when you hand them to him. There’s a mix of amusement and gratefulness in his gaze as he looks between you and the flowers. “Are these for me?”

“Well,” you huffed, “if you don’t like them, you can give them to Maggie.”

He shook his head. “No, no, of course not. I mean- if she wanted it, then-”

Kimi blinks at you. There was a silent conflict in his contemplation, and the sight of him made you giggle. “I get it.”

He stares at the flowers silently for a moment. He doesn’t look up, as if the shaded flora had captivated him the same way those lilies caught your eye earlier. You wonder if he feels the same emotions you felt then, too — You can only hope that the flowers give him the assurance of love that you struggle to say yourself.

Your smile falters barely for a moment. And then, Kimi looks up, with a brighter grin than any other you’ve seen on his face. There’s genuine happiness in his eyes. “Thank you for this, really. I’ve never gotten flowers before.”

He laughs to himself. “Well, that would be obvious but, you know how it is.”

It was now your turn to blink at him. His word of thanks sounded like music to your ears, as if a symphony had played through his laugh and the sunset reflected in his smile. A warm feeling spread through your chest — it seems that flowers have begun to grow in yourself, too.

Your next words are like spring petals in full bloom. “You’re welcome.”

The same lantern you used to complain about flickers in the distance. The sight of it reminds you of all the times you crawled through the darkened state of your neighborhood during the absence of its light — seeing its luminescence still waver, even years later, comforts you in a small way. The thought of some things never changing consoles your beating heart.

The Holiday season is nearing. The nights are slowly getting longer, and the city is beginning to prepare its festivities. A few children carrying handfuls of bread, flowers, and decorations bump into your legs every now and then, and you smile each time when they mumble out an apology in their wake. Some of the older kids, who carry more things, even stop and pluck a flower from the beautiful bouquet in their hands and offer it to you. You graciously accept, and the flowery scent takes you back to better times.

As the sun slowly sets in the distance, painting the neighborhood in shades of pink and orange, an idea comes to your mind. As if a light had been lit up like the lantern nearby in your head, you begin walking forward. Even though it feels like your body has forgotten, your heart definitely didn’t — soon, you find yourself face to face with a familiar wooden door and glass casings, the very same pastries, cakes, and bread displayed in beautifully decadent rows beside you.

Peering through the window, you notice that the sweet lady is already packing up for the day. Although the clock just ticked past five in the afternoon earlier ago, the sun seemed to be setting at a faster pace, and her swift movements reflected that. As you silently observed from afar, you realize that you’ve never asked her for her name; After almost an entire year of residence, you never got the chance to actually get to know the sweet individual who was behind all your warm breakfasts. The thought of it makes your heart drop like an ornament from a Christmas tree.

It makes you think about everything else you’ve forgotten to truly know in these past years of your absence: your neighbor who you’d always see in the morning when she’d see her daughter off to school, the gardener just a few blocks away that you’d bump into during your walks, this one child that once asked you for advice on what to wear for Sunday church — these were all people you’ve met in passing, but have been permanently etched into your memory all this time.

The thought of memories refusing to be eroded by the seasons leads you to the final thought you refused to bring into light. Among the numerous currents that have passed through the river of your memories, this was the lake that led back to it. It was the last thing you wanted to think about, in fear of what it would make you do.

Prolonged absence, setting suns, lingering memories — all of these things led back to him.

Even after your disappearance, you could never really live in a world that didn’t know him: every other day, you’d hear about him through your friends, a random stranger, the morning radio, or some large commercial billboard in the middle of a bustling street. You’d see his face, too, the same piercing eyes somehow still finding its way to look into the windows of your soul despite the distance you’ve gapped in between you two. His name never left your life; it just lingered now, and it lived in the background while you tried to live out the rest of your days.

Coming home was exactly like you expected. It wasn’t anything fulfilling, and it was a stark contrast to the temporary life you became accustomed to in Europe.

While you were in Florence, you were a completely different person. You were a free soul, someone who just happened to live nearby and had all the time in the world to spend with Mia and the others. Whether it’d be the early sunrise or the late evening, you were always somewhere with someone, making memories and leaving your mark in the faded walls — not a single day went by without your laughter, and you made sure to share it with everyone around you.

Back home, you were insignificant — forgotten, cast aside, and overlooked at every moment — it was as if the girl you were back in Florence was a bygone dream that disappeared the moment daylight broke, and you returned to your bleak town. You were just another nobody again, burdened by responsibilities forced on you by people who couldn’t grow up into individuals that could carry it out themselves. You were back to that perpetual state of drowning after spending so much time on land where you could actually breathe.

But now, even as you’re struggling to open your eyes in the muddy water of your life, there is a light that helps you through it. It’s small, barely there, but it wasn’t here before.

The memories you had with him guide you through the life you were so terrified of living again, and his words echo in your mind when the noise around you threatens to consume you whole. Despite the distance, he still managed to draw you a path that you could trust to walk on amidst the uncertainty of your life.

It was only a matter of time until it led you back to him.

The timely sound of a petal falling and the wind howling in your ears was enough for you to turn around. It was as if the entire street had frozen in time, and the moment your gaze met his, everything was sent back to the day it all began. The burning heat of the summer sun, the momentary warmth that you both felt for the very first time.

Andrea Kimi Antonelli is still as captivating as the day you first set your eyes upon him.

It doesn’t feel real. You knew that you were bound to run into him eventually, what with your itinerary being conveniently aligned to all the places you used to frequent during your residence here — but being in the actual moment, with Kimi being only an arm’s length away — was something that you could have never been able to prepare for.

You were wearing the same brown coat you had on your first day moving in. You’re still the same person, but in a completely different time. He was the same, too — that intense gaze seemed to only grow in the time that has passed, and his energy still radiated like a ray of blinding light around him — unlike you, Kimi hadn’t changed at all.

He didn’t need to, because he stayed true to himself all these years; something you didn’t do.

The silence between the two of you resounded stronger more than any word exchanged — every second wasted, every unspoken word binds the space in between and cracks it open — leaving the pair of you at a stalemate, standing at the edge of a large rift created by all of the agonizing years spent apart. The distance is nothing more than an arm’s length apart, but the tension hung like an all-consuming void that threatens to devour you both.

It took every fiber of your being to look into Kimi’s eyes. They were unreadable, and it held an emotion that you couldn’t explain. Was it relief — that after all these years of barely hearing from you and watching your life through pictures, you were finally alive and well in front of him again? Or was it anger and resentment, one that slowly built itself in place of your absence?

It frustrated you that you didn’t know what it was. You once could read this man like an open book, but now, staring into his eyes, that point in time feels so far away.

Kimi breaks the silence. “Why did you leave?”

The question was simple, and something that you expected him to ask. Of course he’d be curious on what made you walk away all those years ago. It wasn’t something he was able to piece together in your absence, either.

But all of that didn’t mean you were able to answer him.

Some things are better left unsaid; To this day, he doesn’t know who you truly are — and after all this time apart, you feel as though it would be better if it stayed that way. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Why?”

Ah, there it is. The reason behind the reason. The motive that drives the action, an additional layer added beneath the already thick, emotionally captivating mystery that is your departure. How could you explain to Kimi the method in your ways without pulling him down a rabbit hole about your true identity and the complexity of your life before him? How could you tell him about the dismal, dreary, and somber days you used to lead before that golden opportunity from your aunt came down upon you? And even then, would he believe you? Could he find it in himself to sympathize with you once you’ve showed him the truth of it all?

You didn’t think he could. And as selfish as that sounds, it’s the reality you choose to believe.

But Kimi is relentless. He doesn’t falter or shake in his resolve — what reason does he have, when he hasn’t done so all this time — and he prods you once more.

“You were at one of the races,” he began, “once, during Singapore last year.”

You suck in a breath. You knew he was going to find that out. But it didn’t mean you were prepared for him to tell you.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Kimi’s voice cracks, and you feel your heart go along with it. “Mia told me not to do anything — to not call or text you, because you left for a reason — but you looked so happy, like…”

What he says next breaks you.

“Like you wanted to reach out to me, too.”

His words spoke the burning truth. But you were like water, and you wanted to drown it out. “You don’t know that.”

“I do,” his reply is immediate. “You wouldn’t have gone into the garage and be only meters away from me if you didn’t want to see me again.”

“Seeing you and actually going back are two different things, Kimi.”

Your next words are a mix of labored breaths and teary eyes.

“Of course I wanted to see you. You’re right, that’s why I went. But that didn’t mean I was able to do whatever I wanted. That was all I could do at the time — watch you from a distance, support you among the crowd as you looked forward, not knowing that I was somewhere below you, looking up with pride and joy.”

“Some people are born without the privilege of a choice. I’m one of those people, Kimi. Even now, my time here is temporary. I won’t be here for long,” you continued. “I’ll leave again. But this time, I want to do it properly.”

Those who grew up with the privilege of making their own decisions think differently than others. They bargain for things that some would not even dare to imagine — and Kimi wanted to try.

“Stay.”

A bitter laugh escapes you. “You know I can’t.”

A burning feeling began to settle in your chest as another thought enters your mind. Why was he still here? Why did he look so crestfallen despite all these years? He should be happy — he deserved to be, with or without you — why was he, after all this time, still begging for someone like you to stay in his life?

You decide to take the risk and ask. “Don’t you have a girlfriend or something? You’re bound to find someone, you know.”

Kimi doesn’t even hesitate. “No. You were all I’ve thought about.”

His words cut through you like a knife.

“In all of my races, I’d think of you in each of them, one way or another. I’d always wonder if you were somewhere in the grandstands cheering for me or—”

He cuts himself off, like the next thing he’d say would be blasphemous. Your stare pushes him to blurt out the words. “… or maybe you’d be hiding somewhere in the paddock, waiting for me.”

“But every weekend, you were never there. Not in the grandstands, the paddock, or the garage. Even though I never gave up, I began to think that maybe I just wasn’t worth your time anymore.”

You didn’t know what to say. You expected him to tell you about all of his achievements the past year, every milestone he’s reached while you were gone — but instead, you were completely floored by the reality he’s given you.

“You know my decision won’t change, right?” you asked. “It’s not something I have control over. I told you already.”

“I know that now,” Kimi began. He took a step forward, and you swear that you felt the cobbled stone beneath you both shift along with him. “But it doesn’t mean I won’t try still.”

“What?”

“I’ll wait for you, properly this time,” he said. “Even if you leave again now, give me a chance. Let me back into your world, your life. I won’t make you let go of me. Not again.”

You blinked at him. Letting him in your life? It sounded almost impossible. Your world couldn’t even light a candle beside a single day in his life. What made him want to throw all of that away for a chance with you?

There was a newfound fire in Kimi’s eyes now. “I’m not letting you disappear on me again. I don’t care about what’s waiting for you back home — if you even want to call it that — I just want you to let me back in. Please.”

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat. Teary eyed, you could barely choke out a “yes” as you slowly nodded your head.

It was a simple answer to a complicated question that hid an even more complicated mystery behind it. You still didn’t want Kimi to discover who you truly were. Thinking about it gave you chills down your spine and left a cold, uncertain feeling in your chest. But it was undeniable that your life was permanently changed ever since meeting him. There was no escaping his voice, his name, or the memories; No amount of distance would be able to erase the mark you two left with each other, and despite the fear of the future, you were willing to take the risk.

You tried accepting that what you two had was just fleeting, momentary warmth. But standing here with Kimi, in the streets that once told the story of the love you both held for each other, you realize that it was never temporary. That passion was always meant to return. And that moment is now.

As impossible and unlikely as it may sound, he wished you were here. He knew that this was just him denying your absence. At the end of every race, Kimi silently hoped that you were waiting somewhere within the crowd. When he did well, he thought that maybe you’d be waiting for him at the barriers in front of parc fermé— or you’d be hiding somewhere in hospitality as he prepared for another weekend.

In Monza, he thought you’d be somewhere in the garage, lingering with Carmen just before free practice began. Maybe since it was in Italy, he hoped you’d be there— it’s where you both met, after all.

But you weren’t. You weren’t in Miami when he took pole, or Monaco when he crashed, or in Imola when he won.

He was in Singapore now. And as he took his helmet in his hands, he found himself hoping for you again. He heard from your friend, Mia, a few days ago, who told him about her suspicion that you lived nearby. And so, he spent his free time in between practices the past weekend looking for you— in random residential areas a few blocks away from the city, or a cafe that you mentioned to your friends once— but you were never there.

At some point, he even enlisted George’s help— who he accidentally told everything to, when the silence between them during a free hour in the conference room had become too deafening. He told his teammate about how the two of you met and your sudden disappearance during one random day.

George raised a brow. “You sure you can’t find her? Surely a background check could do the trick.”

Kimi shook his head. “It’s not that simple.” Pauses, and then laughs, “It’s like she was under… what do you call that? The thing that police officers do when—”

“Witness protection?”

“Yeah.”

His teammate chuckled. “She couldn’t have disappeared without leaving anything behind, mate. Surely, she left some kind of trail?”

Kimi opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn’t find the words. George was right to a point— you couldn’t have truly disappeared. Maybe if he looked closer, visited your apartment again with Mia, they’d find something that they overlooked, and would find their way back to you again.

It was as if you had lived under a false identity— almost all traces of you were gone, and he was grasping at straws to try and find whatever remained of you around his life. Even now, as he silently prepared for the race, he feels like a part of him is still stuck back home; flipping through a photobook with pictures of you and him, looking for leads that could guide him to you.

He hears Bono’s voice in his ear, and it pulls him out of his thoughts. “Alright, Kimi, radio check,” he said.

Kimi closed his eyes. He was here to race. In this moment, he had to focus on racing, winning points, and ensuring a good weekend for the team. He’d always try to find you— but right now, he needed to concentrate on the steering wheel, the cars, and the track.

Then it was lights out, and away he went— but even as he raced through the streets of Marina Bay, he found himself wishing you were among the crowd, somewhere in the grandstands as he passed them by with each lap.

The race ended with the usual fanfare. Kimi clinched P2, while George snagged P1 and another win under his belt. As he climbed out of the car, he fell into the same routine again.

It was like second nature: his eyes scanned the crowd in front of him, a sea of applauding team members celebrating another victory. He tries to find your familiar face among them— and for a moment, Kimi thought that he saw your hair somewhere— but it was just a trick of the eyes.

It was probably from the adrenaline of the race, he thought, as he jumped down onto the asphalt. As he does, he ignores the sinking feeling in his heart.

When he enters the media pen and begins answering questions, he sees that flicker of brunette again, gone as soon as it came.

The interviewer is asking him about possible strategy changes for next weekend that could set him up for a win, but the question is fleeting in Kimi’s mind as he focuses on the split second that just passed him by.

Was that really you? Or were his eyes just playing tricks on him, trying to delude him into thinking that you’d actually come back?

“…Kimi?”

He blinked. He sees his reflection in the camera lens, and the reporter’s expectant eyes. “Ah, yeah, sorry. About strategies…”

The hotel was silent at this hour of night. Even now, Kimi was on his laptop, talking to Mia about what she found about you back in Italy.

miaaamor: so you’re telling me you saw her today?

kimi.antonelli: idk if it was her

kimi.antonelli: she was gone before i could check

miaaamor: that’s weird.

A beat, and then the ding of another notification:

miaaamor: you need to check this out

Kimi squinted at his screen.

miaaamor: www.instagram.com/blank.jpg

He doesn’t even hesitate. He clicks on the link immediately.

The profile loads, and Kimi’s breath hitched in his throat. His eyes go wide.

The account didn’t have a profile picture, and the username didn’t have any individuality to it. It didn’t even have a bio or highlights.

It only had one post, a slideshow of photos. But Kimi saw the thumbnail before anything else.

It was a shot of the Marina Bay Circuit— specifically, somewhere in the paddock— the Mercedes garage was seen in the back, the three-pointed star twinkling under the sunlight captured by the camera.

Kimi recognized the background and the person standing in the center of the picture.

You were wearing a white polo and a pair of jean shorts, posing at the front of the garage with a cheeky smile on your face. Your hair was tied up in a bun, with a few strands left out in the front of your face as you wore a cap— the cap he gave you, he realized— on your head. You held the edge of the brim as your other hand pointed at the camera. The caption read: I’ll always support you :)

A simple phrase, one that could probably be directed at anybody. It’s a saying you pass onto someone as a form of encouragement. But Kimi knew the message beneath it. The garage perfectly adjacent to where you were in the photo, the cap, and the way you pointed to the camera as if you knew he was going to find this.

He found you, and you were just as beautiful as the day he lost you.

Kimi spends the next minutes looking at each photo closely. There were pictures of you all around the circuit, and there was even one you took of his car— he wonders how he wasn’t able to spot you so easily with how close you were to him the entire time. It makes his heart ache when he thinks about it; you were right under his nose, and he didn’t even know it.

When he swiped to the last photo, his heart sinks. It was a picture of him on the podium, celebrating his P2 finish. He wasn’t looking at the camera— he was looking ahead, raising the trophy high.

You were right there. Right beneath him, where he could have just ditched the entire awarding as a whole and jumped down to you— if he just knew.

Kimi almost presses the message button when he hears another ding. It was Mia.

miaaamor: don’t message her

miaaamor: i know you want to, but think about what this would do to her, kimi

kimi.antonelli: i know

kimi.antonelli: but she was right here

miaaamor: she went because she knew about the risk

miaaamor: she knew that you’d find her

miaaamor: but she left for a reason

miaaamor: remember?

And he does. Kimi remembers everything they found out with the little traces they worked with back in Italy— there were many signs pointing to how you were forced to leave, and that circumstances were more complicated than they had thought. The moment it was confirmed, your vague words to him that night began to make sense.

How you didn’t want to leave, but that you had to because you didn’t belong— Kimi still wants to prove you wrong. He wants to find you and talk to you again, to tell you that you didn’t have to belong anywhere. He wants to tell you to come back, but he knows that it isn’t that simple. It was never that simple.

miaaamor: she’ll come and find us when she’s ready

miaaamor: she’ll come back and find you, kimi. one day, she will

That night, Kimi barely gets a wink of sleep. His thoughts are haunted by your smile, and how you looked up at him during the ceremony. He spends the entire night thinking about how he could have locked eyes with you, too, if he was just a second earlier.

By the time he finally closes his eyes, his heart isn’t as heavy as it used to be. Because even if he couldn’t be with you the way he wanted to anymore, you were still there, supporting him. You never broke your promise.

“Kimi, her vitals are fine. You can slow down,” Oscar said from beside you.

Then, Alex: “Franco, can you get me the extra med kit from under your spot? I need the bandages.”

You laid flat on the middle row chairs, with Alex’s lap serving as a pillow for your head. From the rear-view mirror, you were tangled in your own hair, bandages wrapped around your arms and legs. The sight of you made Kimi tighten his grip on the wheel.

You hear more shuffling around you as Franco passes Alex some more gauze. Alex shifts in his place as he tries to steady your head, while he rolls out the gauze. Then, he lifts your head slightly, rolling the white cloth around your forehead. “Tell me if it hurts,” he said.

You wince. Your head immediately spins, and your vision of the world around you becomes more fragmented. You open your mouth to speak, but no words come out— only blood, and it spills onto your dirtied clothes.

The engine screams. Kimi turns the corner, almost too quickly, accelerating with each second that passed by. He doesn’t look at you from the mirror. He avoids even glancing at it— George can handle the blindsides, he thought.

Alex continued to nurse what he could of your wounds. Every passing minute felt like an eternity— the tense silence, broken only by Lando’s commands.

“Turn left in 300 meters,” he said, peering at the driver. Kimi’s hands on the steering wheel were paper white under the moonlight, as if the blood had been drained out of them. His body was stiff, back straightened as if he was bracing for impact. His eyes and his driving betrayed his otherwise calm demeanor— he was panicking, and fear was suffocating him from the inside out.

Kimi knew that. He was well aware of how sweat began to trickle down his forehead, how his heart was beating so fast that he swore all eight people in the car could hear it. He could feel you, separated only by a seat. You were behind him, barely conscious, barely holding on, and it was up to him to get you the help you needed.

And that terrified him. It felt like he was racing with time itself, and he was barely in the lead. While his eyes were on the road, his mind was elsewhere. He was thinking of you, who was bleeding gallons of blood behind him, coughing out bile and vomit while desperately hanging on to whatever consciousness was left.

Kimi didn’t want to think about it, but his mind is a prison that he can never escape. All kinds of possibilities began to materialize in his head— what if he doesn’t get to the base in time? What if the medics aren’t there? What if, because of his mistake, you reach HQ— but he’s a beat too late, just a second off— and you’re gone?

The thought of it makes him sick.

He turns another corner and watches as the streetlights zoom past him in his window. He knows he’s going fast— too fast— and he could hear Oscar’s stern voice telling him to slow down, how your vitals were still fine and that you could last for more time. But he didn’t want to leave anything to chance. Not now.

His mind is still reeling when he sees the familiar light of headquarters. He pulls over to the medical dock smoothly, but his heart is still racing even as he watches Alex and Franco carry you out of the car and into the medical bay. Even as he follows Charles and Lando inside the sterilized room, he doesn’t squint when the overhead lights hit him. He remains wide-eyed and shaking even when he stays behind and watches over your unconscious body, staring at you and watching your chest rise and fall. The simple action, steady and constant, calms him down. It’s a reminder that you’re breathing, that you’re still here.

Despite the bandages and hospital dress, Kimi still thinks that this is the most peaceful he’s seen you. You were always so fierce in and out of operations, like you were made for heists. You were always so concentrated, your focus adamantine and unyielding— nothing could break you. That’s why Kimi always trusted you, no matter how impossible your plan was. He thought that there was no bullet too fast, no knife too sharp that could hit you.

Until today.

He wasn’t there when it happened. You were with Oscar and Charles, escorting them back to the vehicle where he was waiting. Everything was going well until Lando alerted the three of you about an alarm going off from the outside, and that police cars were on their way. You immediately told the two that you’d cover for them as they went to retreat with the goods— and you did.

You weren’t just any member of the team. You were one of their most proficient fighters, exceptionally skilled in combat of all kinds. It didn’t matter if you brought a knife to a gun fight or challenged a rifle with a fist— you would win every time.

You could handle the guns. You evaded the bullets like you were dancing in a forest of thorns— dodging a fist here, throwing back a dynamite there. It was going fine, and from your peripherals, you could see Oscar and Charles close in on the truck. They were about to throw themselves into the vehicle, and Kimi was about to book it to the next rendezvous point; you just needed to get there in time.

That’s when it happened.

You couldn’t even break into a run as the ceiling above you collapsed, and the sound of a bomb arose from the inside. The explosion launched you out of the hall, sending you tumbling into the outside road. The force was so strong that it threw you almost instantly into the truck— but you were injured. Heavily.

The strength of the blast left you sustaining numerous injuries. You suffered from a concussion, several wounds, and possibly a fractured rib. Kimi doesn’t remember the details, despite the assigned Doctor being here just now; he was too busy looking over their shoulder and at your unconscious state to properly listen. All he needs to know is that you survived.

He doesn’t know how much time passed in that room, him watching you as you peacefully slept. Kimi watched your steady breathing like it was the most important thing in the world. His eyes never left you— whether it was your hands laying at your sides, or your chest that rose and fell with each breath. He never tore his gaze away.

All the while his thoughts ran rampant in his mind. Despite the truth laid in front of him in this very moment, Kimi couldn’t help but think of what could’ve happened earlier. One of the many possibilities that could’ve replaced this reality, if he just hesitated a second too late.

What if you really did die? What if he wasn’t quick enough and you all reached headquarters just a moment before your pulse stopped— what happens then? Who would the people blame? Would you fault him then, cursing him from the afterlife?

The possibility of it makes both his heart and head hurt.

Your hands are cold when you grab his arm. Kimi almost falls off the chair when he realizes it’s your fingers wrapped around his wrist. His eyes are wide, and he can barely speak, and a thousand emotions surge through him like a dam just broke inside his heart—

But then he sees your smile and the adoration in your gaze. He feels all the air in his lungs get knocked out of his chest.

Your voice is hoarse and quiet when you speak. “Thank you, Kimi.”

He barely blinks. He doesn’t want to, he realizes, because he thinks you’d disappear if he closed his eyes for even a second. The accident made him see you in a different light; You weren’t just this skilled thief that could steal anything in broad daylight — you were a person, too. You could get hurt, and as much as it terrified Kimi, there was going to be times where he couldn’t be there to protect you.

He’d cover you with his whole body and take a thousand bullets if it meant you’d get back home safe, even without any precious jewel or money in your hands. You were worth more than anything in this world. But he knew that despite your pricelessness, you’d always go back to the life of thievery you loved so much.

And although that’s absolutely petrifying — the thought of you putting yourself in danger again — Kimi doesn’t stop you. Because it’s thanks to the chaos, blinking lights, and starry nights that he met you. And he’d wait for you by the getaway car time and time again, if it meant one more day of adrenaline and thrill with you, despite the uncertainty of tomorrow.

Kimi had the choice. He could have chosen to watch you walk away again; watch as two entire years of silent yearning culminate into an anticlimactic ending where he just sees you go and never return. He could have quietly sent you off in his mind without a word and continue on with his night, maybe actually pay attention to what his friend was talking about.

But he didn’t. He chose his dreams over you once, and your absence was a brutal price to pay. He doesn’t want to make that choice again. Two years ago, he made the difficult decision to prioritize his dream of racing over you, and he’s never forgiven himself; the memory of you and what could have been has haunted him in all of his waking moments. Each victory was sweet, but he knew that deep down that it would be sweeter with you watching.

And so, when you’re fully out the door, Kimi doesn’t even hesitate. He doesn’t need lightning-fast reflexes to make this choice, not when he’s been agonizing about it for so long.

He mutters something under his breath — towards his friend, although it probably wasn’t obvious since he was in such a rush — before rushing out of the restaurant.

It was practically like instinct, the way he spotted you in the crowded streets immediately. His eyes were meant to always find you in every place he was in, constantly yearning for that familiar face. You were the light he was constantly running towards, and now that you’re back, he wasn’t going to let you go again.

As Kimi pushed past several walking bodies, he felt the weight of the past begin to press down on him. Memories of bygone moments that were all stolen away by time resurfaced in his mind like twisted reckoning; arguments about the future, how you felt unsure and out of place with him as he pursued his dream— and how he failed to reassure you. The picture of your face is still clear in his mind: there was such clear uncertainty creeping into your eyes that day, and you were trying so hard to fight it back because you trusted him— but he broke that, along with the future you were building together. He threw it all out of the window back then, and he’s been trying to collect its broken pieces ever since.

He chased you all throughout the city— through the streets the both of you would sneak into to escape meetups, sidewalks he could swear you knew by heart, alleys where you shared more secrets to him than in any other place. Somewhere in between crossing the third avenue and squinting past the thick crowd to spot you, Kimi was hit with a daunting revelation: this entire place, the asphalt these cars were rolling on, the smooth concrete of the pavement he was standing on— they were all proof of his story with you.

Despite the time that passed, the metropolis in which you built your love story remained standing, resilient and unmoving amidst the all-consuming tide of change. It continued to tell the story of you and him, even after you both left the pages behind. You closed the book because Kimi chose to write a new tale— now that you’re back, he’s not letting the pen go.

This odd, one-sided chase soon met its culmination in the bustling underground of the subway. It was almost 5:00 PM; rush hour for most workers and students, which meant that terminals would be overloaded soon as people from all walks of life begin to flood the trains. The city was going to move on again in its usual routine, but Kimi didn’t want it to yet— he needs to get you back first.

When Kimi finally caught up to you, he was too busy catching his breath to notice that you weren’t even waiting for a train— you were just… standing there, near the benches, stuck in the boundary between where one would wait for the cars and people who’d wait in the sidelines. There was a look in your eyes, something that was familiar to Kimi all those years ago but was eroded by his time apart from you.

You looked… sad. Lost, even, which was odd because you knew this entire city like the back of your hand. There was an emotion in your eyes that Kimi had seen only once in your time together before— it was the same look you had on your face when he broke your heart.

He doesn’t want to make the same mistake again. He knows he can’t turn back time and go back to the moment when he took your future together with him and shattered it. But if that truly marked the end of your story together, then why are you here standing in front of him again? Was this just some cruel trick from the heavens to remind him of what he lost, or is this fate bringing you both back together?

Kimi doesn’t want to think about it anymore. He’s haunted himself with enough thoughts about how he could’ve done things differently to learn that no amount of reflection could bring back what was once there. What’s important to him now is the fact that even after everything, you’re somehow back and a mere arm’s length away from him— and he wasn’t going to lose you to some pipe dream or shot at the future anymore.

You don’t even look up when he approaches. To you, it could have been anyone; some random stranger that got too close by chance, or another lost soul that was trying to find its way back home. It’s only when he speaks that you look up— and when you do, you’re suddenly looking at your past and the future you thought you left behind.

“I don’t want to ask anything from you,” Kimi began. He’s suddenly made aware of how the station became increasingly more crowded with each word he spoke— as if the flood of people were a way of counting down on the time he had left. “I just want you to know that I missed you— I miss you. Even now.”

You furrowed your brows. Your silence was heartbreakingly deafening, but he didn’t care. “I never stopped thinking about you. Every time I won, it was nice, yeah, but I always thought about how much better it would be if you were there celebrating with me.” He thought about all the times he was on the top step of the podium, raising the trophy high with a proud smile on his face. It was always a fleeting yet fulfilling moment for Kimi— but deep down, he knew that if you were there somewhere in the crowd cheering for him, it wouldn’t be as momentary as it was.

“I shouldn’t have had to make that dumb choice all those years ago,” he said. “I didn’t need to pick between you or my dreams. It was always going to be both— because you were my dream, too.”

His next words aren’t practiced. It didn’t have to be. “You always have been. And you still are.”

From the corner of your eye, you see the conductor raise the megaphone to his mouth; he mutters something about a train approaching. Kimi hears it too, but he doesn’t care.

“I don’t know why you were here today,” he said, and you blinked back tears. Something about how he knew you were here for a reason made your chest ache, because it felt like he was waiting for you. And it didn’t matter why— just the fact that he cared. After all these years, he still did. “Hell, for all I know, this is probably the last time I’ll ever see you again for the next two years—”

“Kimi,”

“And honestly? That’s okay, because I’ve accepted the fact that I fucked up back then and I get it if you don’t want to talk to me ever again but at least give me the chance to—”

“Kimi.”

He looked at you. All this time he spent chasing you across the city, he only ever looked at your hair, your nose, your mouth— never your eyes. He only saw the sadness in them from afar and never up close, because he knew that he didn’t have the courage to face you fully.

You opened your mouth to speak, but only a few words come out. “I get it. I do,” you said, smiling. “I’m glad you came. I saw you at the restaurant, actually,” you recalled how you spotted him with his friend earlier. “I wanted to tap you then.”

You shook your head and chuckled. “I didn’t, and I guess that’s why we’re here.”

Kimi sighed. “You almost did.”

“Almost,” you nodded, “but I didn’t.”

And that was the thing. It’s always almost, almost, almost. You almost went up to him then, he almost let you go again. He almost watched you leave silently; you almost left without seeing him again. You and Kimi were always caught up in this state of limbo where it’s either now or never— but since you both can’t choose, you opt to just… stay. These two years weren’t one-sided at all— you were there, too, hoping and wishing the exact same. Just on the other side, where he couldn’t see you.

Somehow, even after so many promises, you both never find a compromise. At the end of the day, even after fleeting moments of seeing one another in the same city again to rushed conversations in the middle of a crowded subway, nothing can ever amount to either of you saying yes to one another. Because despite everything— the truth was never going to change. Kimi made his choice then, and in turn, you paid the price. Even if there was a chance to continue what you both believed was unfinished, would you want to? Does he want to?

Kimi wants to. He knows that; he sees his choice in the past as a grave mistake— and despite his inability to fix it, he wants to redeem himself, at the very least. That’s why he was here.

But did you want to? In your heart, you did; but there was something that was holding you back. Was it the uncertainty of the future again? Or something new entirely?

Whatever it was, it kept you from crossing that boundary you’ve been stuck in. It held you back from taking Kimi’s outstretched hand, and even if it broke your heart to reject it, you knew you had to.

There was always going to be something. It was always going to be just almost. You were near him, just close enough to be with him in the heart of this bustling city— but far enough to be unable to live the kind of future you both wanted for yourselves.

You were almost there. He was waiting for you, always was— you just needed to meet him halfway.