#:').

bonus: Seb’s dreamy expression and Will Buxton (?) dancing

Sebastian Vettel in his post-race interview during the 2015 Brazilian GP 

@viduamor​ sent:  “ are you sure you want to do this? “

“ no. ” the response came with a smile that could be a parody, a ghost of itself far more a grimace with good intent. in direct contradiction, thin fingers relieve the large manilla envelope from her hands. there was a tremor there he does not give a name to, and surely she understands. 

of course she did. that was why he had asked her, not juli, not even sebastian - they didn’t need to relive it all any more than he knew they did already, and his questions to either never failed to stick in his throat like barbed wire had whenever he witnessed the weight of it. 

ignorance was supposed to be bliss, yet all it did was hurt and fester. waking nightmares, death like a shadowy companion wrapped in white gauze; would knowing leave him any less off than he was already?   his gaze lingered for a long moment on the star and cross seal on the front corner of the envelope, the letters and numbers beneath it in aged black ink enough to make him swallow a shudder. how often he had seen them in memory, painted on walls, etched into his flesh so deep the assurance it was not real still rang hollow. cb-204. 

“ i just ... need to know. ” 

why. would he be satisfied with the answer? would he be satisfied to know if there was no reason? they had been pawns; to MOBIUS, to the damn police department, to -- god, who knew who else. the clock on the kitchen wall sounded louder than it had before somehow.