on earth we're briefly gorgeous

He was wrapped in a woollen muffler, a beige beanie and a sweater under his long coat as he stood on your porch steps. He was shuffling on his legs, his toffee tan standing out against the snowflakes that fell around him, clearly not made for the grouchy New York weather.

But you weren’t going to let him in. No way.

“Hi,” he beamed at you, accompanied by a tiny awkward wave.

A thousand questions ran through your head, so quick that you couldn't do anything except simply blink at him.

A storm similar to the one that cracked the sky roared inside of you when he raised a hand, his thumb swiping the frosting you hadn't realised was smeared at the corner of your mouth.

That was when your brain finally decided it was indeed capable of forming coherent sentences. “Yeah, I was just baking…”

His touch lingered a moment too long, stirring an ache you had tried hard to burrow deep while all this time away from him. You watched his forehead crease when he realized the same, your gaze then flitting to his tattooed hand as he flexed it and shoved it back into the warmth of his pockets.

“Vanilla,” he said.

Oh, how you had missed his voice.

“What?”

“You smell like vanilla,” he stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s my favourite.”

That was what he wanted to talk about? Your temper bubbled up. You raised your brows, shaking your head in disbelief. “You flew all the way from Perth to tell me that?"

He gulped at your tone, as cold and unkind as the weather, realising you weren’t going to make it easy for him. At all.

You had half a mind to shut the door in his face. The other half was insufferably ready to rush into his arms and let go of everything, every stupid feeling you had pent up since that last race.

But then your mother's voice called out from inside the house, sparing you from doing anything drastically stupid. “Y/N, who’s it?”

Daniel tilted his head, trying to follow her voice as he looked past you. You just prayed she didn't come out to see for herself because then your Dad would follow, and it would just lead to a million nosey questions. And this big ass question mark over what the hell was Daniel doing in fucking New York was more than what you could handle for now.

“A friend from work, Mom!” You bellowed.

An amused smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he peered down at you so fondly. Standing at your doorway, slightly swinging to and fro to cede himself a little warmth only because you were too stubborn to invite him in, and he knew and was utterly fine with it, looking so domestic and lovely and ready to bare it all.

“A friend from work?” He mouthed, a cheeky glint in his eyes. It made you all queasy inside, ultimately annoying you more.

“Why are they still out?" You winced when she shouted again.

Cause he deserves it, you wanted to spite.

He cocked his head smugly, giving you that same iniquitous look you were so familiar with. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

Halfway turning in the doorway, you passed him a smile as phoney as a three-dollar bill.

“Let’s go for a walk.”

-

You strolled alongside him, shamelessly studying the limns of his side frame. Crooked nose pink from the cold, dark stubble shadowing the slant of his jaw, a full bottom lip. Yes, that man did seem a whole lot like Daniel Ricciardo and not something straight out of your wishful thinking.

“How did you know where to find me?” You narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously, and he continued to ignore your stare as he walked down the disgusting muddy pavement leading to a park nearby.

“I pestered your media head into telling me your address." He shrugged, a cloud blowing past his lips as his breath met the chilly air. “You may be getting a call soon to ask if you want a file a harassment case.”

You snorted.

Then you both quietly made your way into the park beneath the shadows of the trees and the weight of the looming conversation. Yellow lamps lit and cast your silhouettes on the grey stone pathway. You focused on the snow and leaves that crumpled under your boots, lost in thought. He had flown all this way. Why? For you? It couldn’t possibly be.

He came to a halt beside you and gestured at a bench for you to sit.

You stood firm. You had no intention to amble and sweet talk on park benches with him. “Why are you here?”

He sighed as he settled down anyway. “Isn’t it clear already?”

You watched him silently.

“You’re really gonna make me say it, huh?” He pursed his lips, searching down the path for something that wasn't there, trying to dodge the topic as best he could.

You hated the fact that you couldn't win this fight, or any fight if it meant it was him you were up against. You never even stood a chance. He could mould you at his whim. You knew. You didn’t care. You sat down next to him.

“I like you,” he breathed out. He faced you then, as nervous as a teenager confessing his first love, but relieved at the same time to finally let go of whatever had him holding back.

“I’ve liked you for years. Like is a very,” he shook his head as if he was unable to find the right words, “very small word compared to what I feel.”

He clasped your cold hands in his, bringing them to his lap, his thumb smoothing over your knuckles. “I was afraid if I truly spoke what I felt you might run away."

You tried to avert his gaze. You couldn't manage him so vulnerable, apologetic, urging you to listen. Who were you trying to fool? Sitting there, so busy trying to find fault in him when all along it had been you pushing and prying just because you couldn't face how much he meant to you. However happy, however special he made you feel, it didn't matter. Years had gone by concealing what you had really felt and you had not cared. When in truth, you had never been that strong. You still weren't. Daniel's words, however wrong and hurtful, had just been an excuse to push all the blame on him.

“You know how much I hate that?” He continued, frustration now lacing his voice. “When you don’t look me in the eyes when I talk to you? When I’m so fucking crazy over someone who acts like they can’t even stand me?”

“That’s not true,” you tried to assure him but your voice cracked.

“Well, that’s how it feels,” he said as he shuffled closer to you, your legs touching, the clouds of your breath mixing now. Tears brimmed at the waterline of your lids and his warmth called on you. Let go, it seemed to implore.

“All that time we spent together, I finally thought I got through to you." Yes, you thought, you could finally see me. "And when you let me in, I managed to colossally fuck it up."

He huffed. “I was a cunt.”

You cracked a sad little smile. “Yes, you were.”

He rested his forehead against yours, noses nuzzled. “I’m sorry I spoke to you the way I did. It was shitty and misdirected. I have no excuses."

I know, I'm sorry too.

“I can’t take those words back." He kissed a tear on your cheek, brushing your hair out of your face. "But one thing I’m sure of is that I didn’t mean it. I could never."

You bit the inside of your cheek, pondering over the massive heap of feelings that had just come your way. You had waited for god knows how long to hear those words. Still, something compelled you to push them aside. Here he was, thousands of miles away just for you. And you couldn’t even meet him halfway to his heart.

He drew back to search your face. “Please say something.”

"I called you, you know." You recalled sitting at the airport far from all the celebrations and feeling extremely lonely. "After the final race. That blonde friend of yours picked up."

At that moment you had felt so small. You had just wanted to go home and sink yourself into the arms of your parents, desperate to erase the whole of the race season despite your team having won the championship and all. You had done exactly that, and now they were maybe the only people in the world who disliked Daniel Ricciardo.

"Who is this blonde you keep referring to?” He asked, breaking your train of thought, and you were taken aback to see him genuinely clueless.

"The one on the yacht. The one in the club. How many blonde women have you been hooking up with, Daniel?" You lightly shoved his chest with the back of your hand, hot clear envy dripping from every word you spoke.

He wrapped his fingers around your wrist, pulling it to his heart. A look of ease crossed his face and he seemed rather pleased with your reaction.

“She’s no one," he spoke calmly, the other hand gently cupping your cheek. "I tried but I couldn’t. There was always someone else on my mind.”

You let out a deep breath. "We don’t make any sense.” It was true.

“Do you really feel that way?” He asked you. His expression was stern, just daring you to refute him. You just wanted to lean in and forget the world.

“You wouldn’t even give us a chance, yeah?” He stood up from the bench, evidently done with you. “You’ve already made up your mind. I’m not worth it.”

It made you tear up. Daniel thinking the way you had been thinking about yourself all this time.  

“I made a big mistake coming all this way. I should’ve known better. I’m sorry I even bothered."

He began to walk away without a second look. You were frozen in your spot on that damned bench, your chest laden with something gruelling. As if something significant was slipping past your fingers and however hard you tried, you just couldn't hold on.

"You're not worth it? Are you fucking kidding me?" You called out after him.

He stopped but refused to face you.

Your throat constricted due to the tears you attempted to hold back, but you continued anyway. "You're a walking, breathing celestial body, Daniel. I look at you and you shine so loud and bright, it's fucking annoying."

You stood up. "You pull me in, again and again. You have gravity. So overpowering, I'm so tired of fighting it. I can't."

"You burn me.” You took a step in his direction. Another. And another until you caught up to him and clutched his elbow, willing him to turn around. You clasped onto the collars of his coat, refusing to let go. "Whenever I'm close to you, you burn me.”

"I don't care what jumbled up perception you have of me. Fuck it." He shook his head, tugging you close.

"I came all this way and you still don't get it, damn it. I look at you. That's the first thing I do. What will she say, what will she do? You're in my head. All the damn time and it's been so, so long. It's fucking pathetic, that's how much I crave you. I feel real, genuine pain here—” he pointed at his chest "—when I think of you."

You kissed him. Your heart was full to its brim, spilling even. Your tears were trailing down your face, or were it his? It didn’t matter. You had lost to him. A loss that felt much, much more than a win.

You kissed and kissed and kissed him until he had to pull back, breathless. "You know I would love for this to go on. Hell, even if this is all I do. Ever. But I'm freezing my balls off here. You gotta help me."

You couldn’t help but let out a giggle. “You’ve been flirting with me all these years?”

He looked at you, really looked at you, while he ran a thumb over his swollen bottom lip. “Thank you for finally catching up. What else did you think?”

You pecked him lightly this time, running your nails along his stubble. "Let's go home."

As you were walking back, his arm locked around your waist and your temple slanted on his shoulder, your mobile started to buzz. A homely warmth flooded your chest as you looked into his ardent eyes, showing him the screen.

You both burst out laughing. It was your team head calling you.

-