fags on bikes

Disclaimers:

I'm more active on Twitter, so I tend to forget to reply/follow back

Again, this blog is used for my RPF archive

I post writings, occasionally edits, and probably just poorly edited memes

If you want to be mutuals just hit me up (like actually say it to me because I don’t check notifications)

Active replist are MB72 & MM93

As for marcmarc, I only write top!bez x bottom!marc, so if that's not your thing then this blog isn't meant for you

Other ships I enjoy (sometimes write) : alecco, valex, marinaia, razgatlega, setetino (and many more actually, I eat anything as long as it's interesting)

My ask will always be open for rpf-ing *cough*

This will be updated if I need to add anything

hope you enjoy your stay!

To finally hear his call connected is truly relieving for Marc.

He had been occupied with all the high of winning, winning, and winning throughout the weekend; the King of the Ring reigns once again. Though, his brother’s incident left a sour taste at the back of his tongue—and Marco. He hadn’t got the chance to actually say anything to the Italian when the news came out. He did say that everyone’s wishing him the best through the press, but he didn’t know if the message had come across—neither did it lower his concern. Even when he himself is a frequent hospital visitor.

So right now, he’s more than glad to see his lover’s face on the small surface of his phone.

“Hi.” The painkiller did its job correctly, Marc thinks, judging from how out of space Marco is looking right now.

He himself is still dressed in his racesuit, with it pooling around his hips, his hair and face wet with champagne and sweat. “How did it go?” It had to be the first thing he asked.

“Good, good. As you can see–” Marco tries to raise his phone to show Marc his surroundings, “–I’m still here, but I’ll be home soon.”

Home. What Marc will trade to also be there with him. For him.

Yet before he can get deeper into his thoughts, Marco continues, “Congratulations, champ. You didn’t make it easy for anyone, huh?” He ended it with a weak laugh.

“How did you know?” It’s a dumb question, but Marc just had to do it.

“Are you serious?” And of course Marco finds the question ridiculous, a wide smile forming on his face. “Without watching I already knew that you're going to win it.” 

I would never doubt you.

It goes on unsaid.

“I’d like it more if you were here.” He didn’t mean to say it, but his mouth acted faster before he could think it over. He doesn’t want to rub salt over Marco’s wounds by reminding him about how unfortunate the situation is.

Thankfully, what he feared didn't happen. He was expecting Marco to be quiet again, maybe even find some excuse to hang up on him, Marc wouldn’t be upset if that’s the decision. But, he didn’t. Instead, Marco has returned to his usual banter mood, saying “What? So you could beat me?” Not once his smile fades from his face. It’s like they’re back on the seats at press conferences, sitting next to each other and joking together. Sometimes he found himself longing for those moments again.

Marc rolls his eyes at the response, he does agree with what Marco had just said. “Yeah yeah, it’s fun. You’d give me a fight, and I’d win.” He teases him back.

Marco shakes his head in disbelief. It’s foolish, he wouldn’t debate Marc on the matter, and he wouldn’t mind a P2 right behind Marc. Especially in these moments. Yet fate offers him otherwise, and he has to settle for another month of recovering and finding his footing back.

They fall into silence, both hesitating to hang up first—stalling time so they can feel one another’s presence. Psychically? It’s not possible, maybe later; if Marc manages to find a way to sneak a trip to Italy during summer break. He’s definitely going to try. But for now, the only thing connecting them is the small device on their hands while kilometres of distance keep them apart.

It’s Marco who breaks the silence. “Marc?” 

“Hm?”

“I miss you.”

Marc is an emotional man, he admits, and he’s not shy to express his emotions. He has experienced ups and downs in his career, and in his personal life. Still, the amount of them doesn’t always prepare him for every situation. Like this one.

He choked on his own spit. The weekend was a long one, for sure there were also many things going on—he had tried to push any negative thoughts aside in order to keep his focus. But since it has ended, a simple confession such as ‘I miss you’ sounds like it could break him into tears. At first, he was planning to ensure Marco comfort, to make sure that he knows that Marc will support him no matter what. However, now, it seems like he needs that comfort as much as he wants to give it.

Maybe he does.

“Marc, tesoro, are you okay?”

He’s tearing up.

Sniffling, he replies. “I should be the one asking you that.”

“But you already know that I’m okay.” Both of them aren’t new to injuries, being an athlete means you’re practically meant to face it at some point. But it wasn’t about broken bones and scars anymore. “Please tell me what’s wrong.” Worry starts to show on Marco’s face.

“Nothing—it’s been perfect,” he says, “I just wish I could be there for you right now.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Basically, what I’m trying to say here is, I miss you too, okay? I was worried, maybe still—I don’t know,” he’s just rambling at this point. “I want to share my happiness with you.” He didn’t even realize he was holding his breath this whole time.

“You’re already doing it.” He stops because he starts coughing, his voice sounding more hoarse. “Maybe I haven’t watched the whole race, but I know you did amazing. I’d very much prefer to also have the chance to fight you there, but this is also fine—what happened was in the past, and we still have so much time ahead.”

Before Marc gets the chance to reply, the sound of a door opening is heard, followed by Marco’s name.

“Shit, sorry Marc—I need to go now.”

He wipes his face, trying to gain his composure again. He nodded. Half of him is glad because he can’t figure out what’s getting into him just now.

Marco hasn’t hung up on him yet. “Hey.”

“Yes?”

“I’ll call you back again later?” He asks.

“I’d love that.”

Marco smiles as he waves at the camera, with Marc returning the gesture before he ends their call. It directly opens up their text screen, then a sticker of a dog throwing a big heart pops up. Marc chuckles, typing his response.