#hitech racing

. . . For as long as you could remember, you and Paul had been connected. It wasn’t something you had asked for, but it felt like it was always meant to be. Every day, you heard his voice in your head, clear as day.

The first time it happened, you had been terrified. You were alone, walking home from school, and suddenly, you heard a voice in your mind.

"Hey, are you okay?"

You had frozen in place, looking around, trying to figure out who had spoken to you, but no one was there. It took weeks before you realized that the voice in your head wasn’t a hallucination or some kind of weird glitch in the world.

It was Paul.

He explained to you that he had the same ability, and he was just as confused as you were. The two of you quickly learned that you could only communicate telepathically, no spoken words, no physical contact, just thoughts exchanged in the quiet spaces of your minds.

And so, over time, you both built a connection. You got to know each other in the most intimate, invisible way. You shared everything. The good, the bad, the joys, and the fears, without the hidden stuff that often came with speaking out loud.

You’d both learned to help each other when things felt overwhelming, offering support when life was too hard to navigate alone. But there was always this unspoken rule; you couldn’t tell each other your names.

At first, it didn’t matter. You both laughed about it, making jokes and creating silly aliases. You had ended up calling him Blondie because of the way he described his hair; golden in every way, from the light shine to the warmth it seemed to radiate.

He’d called you Curls, a teasing nickname for your wild, curly hair. It became your thing.

He was Blondie, and you were Curls, and for some reason, it was perfect.

But that didn’t mean you weren’t both curious. You wanted to know more about him. You wanted to meet him, see what he looked like, hold him close when he had a hard day. But there was always that one, simple rule; no names.

And yet, after years of talking like this, you both had grown closer than anyone else in your life. You had supported each other through heart ache, listened to each other’s frustrations, and celebrated each other’s victories. You couldn’t wait to finally meet in person.

"I’m counting down the days, Curls. I just know you’ll be even more beautiful than I imagined." Paul’s voice echoed in your mind one night, his thoughts filled with affection.

"I can’t wait either, Blondie. I swear, I’ve been dreaming about it." You closed your eyes, smiling, already imagining the moment when you could finally hold him, feel his warmth. "It’s all I think about."

The world outside of your telepathic connection seemed so small. Conversations with friends and family felt distant, almost irrelevant. All that mattered was you and Blondie. But you couldn’t help the anxiety that gnawed at you, what if he didn’t like you in person? What if it was awkward?

"Do you think it’ll be weird when we finally meet?" You asked, the uncertainty creeping into your thoughts.

"No." Paul’s response was immediate, confident. "I’ve been talking to you for years, Curls. It’s going to be perfect."

You had talked to him about your job internship, how you were working behind the scenes in the paddock for a Formula 1 team, assisting with everything from logistics to preparation, and experience to complement your course in motorsport management.

You’d mentioned how exciting, yet nerve wracking, it was to finally get the opportunity to be in such a fast paced environment, learning from professionals in the industry. You’d also shared how there was a possibility, just a small one, that you and he could meet face to face for the first time during the race weekend, though you hadn’t expected it to happen so soon or so unexpectedly.

And now, here you were, standing in the bustling paddock of a Formula 1 race, running around trying to do your job done amidst all the excitement. You were barely keeping your focus, distracted by the knowledge that you were just a few meters away from meeting him, your soulmate, the person who had been in your head for years. You couldn’t help but wonder if he felt as nervous as you did.

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.

You were walking with a team member down the crowded pit lane, carrying a stack of equipment for a quick setup. As you navigated the sea of people, your foot caught on the edge of a toolbox, sending you tumbling forward.

You braced for impact, but before you could hit the ground, a pair of arms shot out, catching you in mid fall.

"Fuck, I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where I was go-"

Your heart skipped a beat as you collided with his chest, the impact leaving you breathless. You instinctively looked up into his eyes and froze.

There was something… something so strangely familiar about this person. His bright blue eyes locked onto yours, and everything else seemed to fade away. It was as if you had always known this person, and the realization hit you like a wave.

This was him.

"Curls?" His voice was low, hesitant, but somehow it sounded exactly the same as it did in your mind. You felt a jolt of recognition.

"Blondie?" you replied, nearly breathless. You weren’t sure if you’d said it out loud or thought it, but the words came so naturally.

His eyes widened in disbelief. "You-how-how are you here?" He looked around, clearly trying to piece together the situation.

You smiled, heart pounding in your chest. "The internship."

For a moment, neither of you knew what to say. The shock and joy of the moment hung between you like a heavy blanket, but the connection you felt in your chest was undeniable.

You had been waiting for this day for years, and now that it had finally arrived, you were left speechless.

He held you at arm's length, still unsure, his fingers lightly brushing your arms as though confirming you weren’t just a figment of his imagination. "I-I didn’t expect… This wasn’t how I thought it would happen. I thought we’d… I don’t know… meet some other way."

You laughed, a sound that felt more freeing than anything you had ever experienced. "I didn’t expect it either. But here we are."

"Yeah," he said, grinning now. "Here we are."

And just like that, you both stood there, in the midst of the busy paddock, overwhelmed by the realization that everything you had shared in your minds for years was now physical, real, and right in front of you.

"What's your name, then? Mine is Paul."

You told him your name, smiling when he repeated it, as if testing the way it felt on his tongue.

Paul’s gaze softened as he stared at you, the same intensity and adoration you had always felt from him radiating in his eyes. "I’ve waited for this moment for so long. It feels… unreal."

You reached for his hand, your heart fluttering as your fingers brushed his. The sensation was electric, like every piece of you had clicked into place. "Me too," you whispered. "I’ve always known it was you, but now I can see you, and it’s more than I ever imagined."

He smiled, a tender, almost shy expression that made your heart swell. "So, you’re actually here… and I’m not dreaming?"

"I’m here, Blondie, or Paul," you reassured him softly. "And I’m never going anywhere else."

And then, without thinking, you both moved closer. You didn’t need words to tell him how much this moment meant.

You simply leaned in, your lips meeting his in a kiss that felt like the peak of everything you had been waiting for. Soft at first, but as if everything else in the world had faded, you deepened it, feeling a connection so deep it was almost overwhelming.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, Paul rested his forehead against yours, his grip on your hands tight. "I can’t believe it. You’re here. We’re here."

You smiled, the weight of the years of waiting slowly lifting off your shoulders. "We’re here," you agreed, "and I’ll never leave."

He kissed you again, this time more passionately, as if he never wanted to let you go. And in that moment, you knew, more than ever, that no matter the distance, no matter the years, the connection you had was real.

You had finally found your way to each other.

You scoff, leaning back on your hands, the warmth the sun caused against the tan stone of the fountains edge warming your fingertips. “Missed you?” Your lips curl, “You’re delusional, Aron. If anything, I came here to enjoy the peace and quiet until you showed up.”

“Peace and quiet?” He repeated, his beautiful blue eyes narrowing with mock offense. “You’ve been following me around since we were kids. You’d totally be lost without me.”

“Following you around?” Your mouth parts with a short laugh, “I think you’ve got it backward. You’re the one who can’t go more than a few hours without sending me something stupid or calling me to boast about the smallest of achievements!”

You push yourself back up to straighten your back, rubbing your hands together to get the small particles of dust off. “It’s exhausting, honestly.”

The blonde grinned, leaning in slightly. “You love it when I do that, though.”

“Not nearly as much as you love listening to yourself talk.” You shoot back, dipping your hand in the fountain water and flicking some in his direction.

He dodged it with ease, his grin widening. “Careful, loser, you’re starting to sound jealous.” His eyebrows wriggle accusatorially.

“Jealous of what? Your overinflated ego?”

The boy chuckles, his voice low and warm. “You know, if you weren’t so damn stubborn, you’d probably admit you find me quite irresistible.”

Your eyes rolled, but you couldn’t ignore the way your pulse quickened as he shifted closer, the space between you shrinking just enough for you to become adequately aware of how close he actually is.

“Irresistible?” You lift one eyebrow, “Please. If you weren’t such an ass maybe—maybe, I’d consider kissing you.”

Paul’s eyebrows raise shortly, he didn’t know kissing was on the table. His surprise quickly fades and a smirk grows on his lips, something else passing across his face but it’s gone within an instant. “Maybe? That’s the best you’ve got?”

You shrug, trying to ignore the way your heart was pounding in your chest. “I don’t hand out things like that to people who think they are God’s gift to humanity.”

“Fair enough.” He says, his voice softening as he leans just an inch closer. “But you’re not denying that you’ve thought about it, y’know?”

Opening your mouth to argue, the words get stuck in your throat when you realize just how close he was to your face. The teasing glint in his eyes had changed into same expression you’d seen pass over him earlier—something softer, sweeter. It send a shiver down your spine.

Paul’s head tilted to the sigh, his breath fanning across your already warm cheeks, his voice hoarse and quiet now. “So, if I wasn’t an ass—“

“Paul,” you interject, the words coming out barely above a whisper.

His blue eyes blink, startled for a second as the teasing look shifted into one similar to worry. Had he read this all wrong? Was this not what you wanted? Because it is certainly what he wants. So, so badly.

The air was thick enough to cut with a knife. “Yeah?” He murmurs back, just as quiet, but still steady. His gaze flickers down to your lips for a split second before returning to your eyes.

The same eyes he could get lost in if you’d just let him.

You hesitate only for a second before letting out a small, exasperated laugh. “Just shut up and kiss me.”

His lips were on yours before you could take another breath. It was warm and urgent, like he’d been waiting for this moment as long—if not longer—than you had. His hand slid up your bare arm, coming up to cup your cheek, tilting your face toward him, while his other hand found its home on your waist, pulling you just a little closer so that your chests were touching.

His lips molded against yours, like they were meant specifically for you. Like they were sculpted just for yours.

When you finally pulled back, you were both breathless. The Estonian boy was grinning down at you, his forehead resting against yours. “Does this mean I have to stop being an ass now, or do I get to stay as perfect as I am.”

Your eyes rolled, but the way you were so clearly fighting a smile gave yourself away. “Let’s not push it, Aron.”

His head tilts back slightly as he laughs, the sound warm and familiar and your heart lurches at the sound. He leans back down to kiss you again and your lips swallow his leftover laughter.

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. . . The night was quiet, save for the hum of a far off engine and the crackle of leaves underfoot. You leaned back against Paul’s car, arms crossed and fingers hidden in the sleeves of your jacket.

The faint glow of the streetlights lingered between you both, casting soft light in the cool air as you exhaled slowly, letting go of the tension that had been building all day.

Paul stood a couple of feet away, hands shoved in his pockets, watching you like you were the only thing worth noticing tonight.

There was a look on his face, something thoughtful but teasing, like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to say something ridiculous or if he’d actually just tell you the truth for once.

The silence hung there for a moment, heavy yet somehow comforting.

"You’re staring again," you muttered, trying to sound unimpressed.

He grinned in that lazy, Paul sort of way that always made you want to punch him. Or kiss him, depending on the day. "Can’t help it."

"Can’t help what?"

He tilted his head, his eyes skimming over your face as if searching for something. "I saw her in the rightest way…"

"Oh my God." You groaned, cutting him off before he could go any further. "You’ve been listening to too much music again."

But Paul wasn’t done. He stepped closer, a lopsided smirk tugging at his lips as he ignored your complaint.

"Looking like Anne Hathaway," he finished softly.

You turned your face away, half laughing to cover the way your cheeks burned. "What does that even mean?"

"It means you look good," he said simply, voice exceptionally quiet.

You fiddled with the strap of your bag, anything to keep your hands busy, to keep from focusing on how Paul was looking at you.

The nervous energy in the air made it hard to breathe, but you tried not to let it show, but failing as you coughed slightly.

"Inhaling while she fidgeted with her bag. And coughed, and coughed," he murmured, more to himself now than to you.

You glanced up sharply, raising a brow. "You’re so dramatic. Is this a monologue?"

"Maybe," Paul teased. He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, kicking at a random rock. "Or maybe I’m just telling the truth."

"You wouldn’t know what to do with the truth if it smacked you in the face," you shot back, but the words didn’t hold much truth. Ironic much.

That made him laugh, soft and warm in the space between you both. "You think too much."

"You don’t think enough." You frowned at him, already half defensive before you’d even thought of a reply.

Paul shrugged like you hadn’t just hit a nerve, like it wasn’t something you’d both known for a while now. "One of us has to keep things interesting."

You stared at him, heart caught somewhere between frustration and something softer, something you weren’t ready to name. He made it look so easy.

Letting go, letting things just be, while you sat here, overanalyzing every glance, every breath, every moment that hung too long in the air.

Paul leaned against the car next to you, so close now that his shoulder brushed yours. "And then," he murmured, his voice low and teasing, "she came up to my knees, begging, 'baby, would you please?',"

You groaned, rolling your eyes hard enough to hurt. "Please shut up, Paul."

He ignored you completely. "Do the things you said you’d do to me, to me…"

"Paul," you warned, though it didn’t stop the corner of your mouth from twitching upward.

"Say what you want, but you like it when I talk like this," he said, his voice holding that infuriating self assurance you’d come to expect.

"I really don’t," you said flatly, glaring at the smirk on his face.

He leaned closer, his voice soft enough to send a shiver down your spine. "Oh, won’t you kiss me on the mouth and love me like a sailor?"

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry. Paul always knew how to toe the line between a joke and something more. Something dangerous.

"That’s enough," you whispered, your voice straining just a little.

But he didn’t pull back. He stayed close, eyes still locked on yours, his grin softening into something quieter. "When you get a taste," he murmured, "can you tell me what’s my flavor?"

"Why are you like this?" you muttered, though you didn’t step away.

"Because you keep coming back," Paul replied easily, like the answer was obvious.

You didn’t know how to respond to that, so you just looked away, staring at the dark street stretching out in front of you.

For a few seconds, neither of you said anything. You could hear Paul breathing, steady and calm next to you, like none of this was a big deal, like you weren’t absolutely losing it on the inside.

"I don’t believe in God," he said finally, "but I believe that you’re my savior."

The words were quiet, but they hit you harder than any of his teasing lines before. You turned to look at him, your expression softer now, thrown off by the way his gaze held steady.

"Paul…"

He smiled faintly, like he wasn’t expecting you to say anything else. "It’s true."

You opened your mouth to argue, to brush it off or tell him he was being ridiculous again, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Not this time.

"I know you’ve got all those thoughts swirling around in that head of yours," he added, his voice almost shy now. "But you don’t have to think so much all the time, you know? Not here."

You stared at him, and for the first time tonight, Paul didn’t look so cocky. He looked real, just a boy leaning against a car, trying to say something he didn’t have the words for.

"You’re exhausting," you finally said, but the fondness in your voice gave you away.

Paul grinned again, some of that familiar mischief returning to his face. "And yet, you’re still here."

You sighed, shaking your head as you looked away, but you couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. "Yeah," you murmured. "I’m still here."

And in the quiet that followed, Paul just stayed beside you, close enough to touch but not pushing, not forcing anything else.

Maybe, for once, you didn’t need to think about it too much.

Maybe, for tonight, this was enough.

It was almost noon now, Paul knew damn well that he should be practicing on the sim, but he wasn't. 

He re-read the messages between him and (Y/n), for what seemed like the millionth time. Was he really that much of an asshole? He couldn't believe how she didn't physically attack him, he'd want to do it to himself.

Cocky, annoying and asshole-ish. That was he was to (Y/n), and he didn't understand why she still dealt with him. Perhaps homicide of oneself would be useful now.

His fingers lingered over the keyboard, aching to send her a message. It was so painful to restrain himself, he basically longed to see the blue message appear on his phone.

Sighing, he closed his phone and looked at himself in the mirror. His hair was messy, he looked rougher than usual. He guessed that this would happen when the thing you love most is taken away from you.

He brushed his hair slightly with his hands, and put on the rings (Y/n) gave him, the ones he always wears. Grabbing the bouqet he had bought off his bedside table, he closed his hotel room and went out into the dangerous, dangerous hallway. 

Paul knew he had fucked everything up when (Y/n) didn't respond to his text. Usually, she'd reply within seconds, always surprising him with her fast replying speed.

If only she was as fast to forgive him.

Something like this happening was inevitable, whether they liked it or not. They were both foolish to think that they'd have a relationship with no fighting whatsoever. Stupid of them.

The thing was, it wasn't only this recent fight that made them like this. No, it was multiple mini fights that just made their frustration build up to the point where they both snapped. 

Paul was wrong, he knew that. But he couldn't bring himself to admit it, always so stubborn, both of them. He knew that if he did, he was going to be teased, even though it was the right thing to do.

And after a very heated argument with himself, he'd decided to go apologise to (Y/n). He had promised himself to not get cold feet when he arrived at her hotel room. But as he stood there, a large bouquet in his hands, he felt the urge to run off and never return. 

He was already regretting his choice of flowers: white lilies, blue hydrangeas, and a few blue hyacinths thrown in just for the aesthetic. Why'd he chose blue specifically? He'd never know. 

The shame and guilt felt heavy on his shoulders, weighing him down as he took a deep breath, finally bringing himself to knock on her door. Two heavy knocks and one light knock, that was their code. Paul slightly regretted doing the secret knock, what if she didn't open the door because she knew it was him?

Stop that, take deep breaths and calm down. He'd told himself, the dread slowly enveloping him the longer (Y/n) took to open the door. It was very dreadful.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she opened the door. Paul had to force himself to not start sobbing from relief. (Y/n) had opened the door! This was one small step for her, but a giant leap for him. 

He was brought back to reality by his girlfriend clearing her throat, glaring at him, as if urging him to speak. Her eyes were slightly bloodshot, her face a bit paler than usual. Had she been sick? He knew that she got sick easily, and more often than not, he'd find her sniffling and shoving pills into her mouth.

"Uh-hi! How have you been? I....I brought these flowers for you. I know you don't like red roses so I choose against them but then had the weird urge to-"

"Yes, yes. Thank you. Why'd you come here?" (Y/n) cut him off, her tone frustrated, or maybe annoyed. He didn't know why he started talking so much, good job you idiot.

He should've asked Ralf or even Dino for help. This was a bad idea, he already regretted it. Now he'll never be able to get his girlfriend back and she'll never forgive him.

"Paul! What is the matter with you? Speak." He was so caught up in his own thoughts that he forgot about (Y/n) standing infront of him. Ironic.

"Ah, yeah. I just came here to apologise to you, I was an asshole and I knew I was wrong. I am so sorry, kallis," He mentally facepalmed when she raised an eyebrow at that. "I just want you to forgive me, I should have cared and noticed when people were hating on you. I love you so much and don't want to lose you. So please, just forgive me, (Y/n)."

Wow, where'd he pull that from? He should start considering a job in film writing, or even writing books. His lines would probably have people sobbing.

(Y/n) narrowed her eyes at him, her face pulling into an awkward, forced smile. Maybe he should stick to being a racing driver.

"I appreciate all this, Paul. I really do. But..."

But what?! 

"You really didn't need to bring flowers, you could've just came and apologised. Thank you."

Paul's anxiety vanished instantly, all hints of the shaking hands he had vanishing. His face formed a grin, his whole body relaxing.

"I-h....I love you so much and I can't deal with losing you again. " He managed to say. His voice shook, as if he was going to cry. He really couldn't lose (Y/n) again.

"I can't either, ange. And I'm sorry, for everything. I love you too." (Y/n) gave him an apologetic smile, and he could see in her eyes that she really meant it.

Paul felt immense happiness flood him, all tension from the past few days disappearing. He wouldn't have known what to do if (Y/n) hadn't forgave him

"So...are we back together?...." Paul trailed off, he really didn't know at this point. 

"We broke up?" She said, tilting her head at him. 

"Oh... Well, I thought we did. Uh, sorry, it was a stupid question. I don't know what I'm saying." He scratched the back of his head. Great, Paul, you ruined it now

"How have you been?"

"Quite depressed, actually. You really did light up my life," (Y/n)'s eyes widened, and her cheeks were tinted red. He still has the charm. "Well, I have to go now. I have to do the track walk with Amaury. See you around, I guess."

"See you."

He didn't know what to do with his arms, part of him stepped forward to hug her, and part of him raised his hands to wave. (Y/n) sighed and pulled him into a hug, rubbing his back while she laid her head on his chest. His heart was propably beating out of his chest, still not used to the feeling.

Then, he swore he heard her mutter something like 'I missed you'.