#please help out again...im posting all replies today...finally...

yourusername oh f1 you’ve been good to me! thank you to @redbullracing for inviting me for the weekend and congratulations @maxverstappen1 on your win, amazing performance! 🦁🧡🏆

user1 first we don’t hear about yn for months, and then when we hear is f1 related AND about max…… WHAT HAPPEN WITH OSCAR

user2 yall i think they broke up

redbullracing thanks for coming queen! hope to see you again soon! our writing’s on the wall tell us you’ll be back 👀💙💙

yourusername 💙💙💙

user3 that last part is kinda sus

user4 what is yn up to

maxverstappen1 thank you yn!! hope to see you again soon!

yourusername hope to see you again soon to max!

user5 this friendship is amazing

yn’s phone

a month later….

oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername, mclaren and others

oscarpiastri thank you australia for this weekend, felt good to be home! 🇦🇺🦘🐨

user1 yn liking oh man…

user2 the friendship bracelets 💞💞💞

user3 yn is in australia, you think she was there?

user4 great race osc!

yn’s phone, first is the night after the race, second is the morning after

a few weeks later…

f1gossip

liked by user1, user2 and others

f1gossip spotted! oscar piastri walking around the paddock with a new girl! we haven’t seen him with a girl since he broke up with yn, seems like he moved on! we love to see him happy😁😁

user1 im pretty sure that’s norris sister

user2 lando would never let this happen

user3 yeah look at his happy face 😑

landossister that’s me! he was just keeping me company cuz my brother abandoned me, i also happen to have a boyfriend so please confirm everything before you post things like this, thanks!🧡

(ps. do you have any ideia how hard it is to find a photo of this man with lily where he isn’t all smiley and giggling????????? this man is IN love)

yn’s phone

moths later…

yourusername story

replies:

user1 oscar???

user2 who’s the musician guy?👀

yourbestfriend FINALLY

yourusername it’s coming out today i can’t belive

yourusername do you think people will like it?

yourusername what if he gets mad

yourbestfriend they’ll like it

yourbestfriend and he’ll be proud just like i am

yourusername i love you

yourbestfriend i love you too

yourusername

liked by yourbestfriend, oscarpiastri and others

yourusername heyy!! so i’ve been working on something for a few months now and i am more than proud to announce that my first album just came out!! i actually loved how this turned out and i hope you do to🫧🫧🫧🪽 melbourne anymore is now ours in all streaming plataforms 🤍🤍

yourbestfriend SO SO SO SO PROUD OF YOU

yourusername I LOVE YOU

user1 i didn’t know you could sing wtf

user2 this is amazing

user3 on repeat

user4 track five omg

user5 this is def about him

user6 mom and dad broke up

user7 a breakup album about oscar was not on my 2024 bingo card

user8 they still in love with each other

user9 superglue is so cute😭😭

user10 OSCAR LIKING😭😭😭😭😭😭

oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername, mclaren and others

oscarpiastri I dreamt of this day as a little kid back in Australia. A trutly unbelivable feeling. Thank you to everyone who helped me and everyone who belived in me. One down too many more to go 🧡🫧🪽

mclaren SHOW THEM HOW IT’S DONE

landonorris proud of you brother

user1 OMG OSCAR WON

user2 NOT HIM WINNING AFTER THE YN ALBUM

user3 the emoji choice😟 '

user4 yn must be so proud

user5 i wonder if he heard the album

yn’s phone

It was beautiful and warm.

Sunlight glared in your eyes, dappling and shining, the brightness making your eyelids ache; you blinked slowly, your eyelids glowing orange each time they closed. You were on your street. The chipping sound of a sprinkler a few houses down, a lawnmower roaring maybe a block further. In front of you, through the rays of sunlight, your home appeared. It looked like someone had trimmed the grass and cleaned the gutters, the windows cleaned and shined spotless.

The door swung open, and there she was—not the frail wraith from her final days. Her cheeks glowed with life. She beamed at you, yet sadness shadowed her eyes. You remembered that look: when she found you after hide-and-seek in the woods, when you waved goodbye for college.

You reached for her; you stepped forward. Then another. The visage did not move. No matter how hard you lifted your legs, pumped them in a run, you got no closer.

You looked to her desperately for help. Her mouth moved, but it made no sound. You couldn't quite make out the words. You shouted her name, screamed at the top of your lungs. Nothing but a suburban chorus replied;  tires rolling down a street, the hiss of leaves stirred on branches; the coo of a mourning dove, the trilling of a bell on a child's bike.

You breathed in—the sharp scent of grass anchoring you. The house, her warm shape in the doorway, blurred and faded. Neighborhood sounds warped, slowing, sloshing into water. Suddenly, you stood on a pier, watching a man’s body drift beneath green waves.

"Engel."

You blinked awake, vision blurred by sleep and tears, curled into something soft—a shirt, spotted with damp marks. Your face was wet, nose and brow aching. When you lifted your head, you bumped into chin, his slow, warm breath stirring your hair.

König's great body, pressed to yours, shielded you from the strips of predawn light filtered through the blinds that made tiger stripes across the bed. König had wrapped his arms around you sometime in the night.

"Hmmnh…?" You croaked hoarsely, disoriented.

He came into focus; his face was so close, you could see little scatterings of freckles between the long scars. He was looking at you intently through his hair, with an odd expression. You squirmed, but he was holding you firmly, searching your eyes and your face. "You were crying," König whispered back. "In your sleep."

"Oh." That was all you could say. You weren't necessarily embarrassed, but an strange feeling curled about your insides, remnants of your dream that still tugged at your half-asleep body.

König 's eyes lowered, the lashes dark and long, hanging over the gunpowder blue of his eyes. "Bad dream, yeah?"

You weren't sure how to reply. So you just buried your head against his chest again, blinking away what remained of the tears. His wide hand petted your hair, smoothed it down against your skull.

"...'time is it?" You mumbled, muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

"Very early. We will leave today. You may sleep a little longer, if you like."

You decided yes, you would like that. You closed your eyes and felt the last of the tears slip down past your nose. In the comfort of his embrace, his smell, his warmth. It wasn't quite morning yet; memories of last night had not crashed into you, worry of the shift in your relationship was for later on, a less tired, less weepy you. "...stay here?" You requested in a small, rasping voice.

"Of course."

As you fell back into a less fitful sleep, you thought you might've felt the brush of his lips over your hair, along your hairline, just so lightly, daringly, on the soft skin of your forehead.

⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄ ⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄

The steam from the coffee warmed your face against the frigid draft of the motel room. It was in a flimsy paper cup Konig had nudged you awake with and handed to you, while placing a fistful of cream and sugar on the bedside table. He'd gone off somewhere and back while you slept into the morning. But he was here when you woke up, to your relief.

You sank back against the flat propped-up pillows, still in bed. You had your shirt on, but at some point the night before, you'd discarded your underwear somewhere and now were too embarrassed in the traitorously revealing sunlight to go looking. Especially with Konig sitting before you at the table, wiping down his pistol.

At least that's what you thought he was doing. The morning, as you knew it would, brought a new feeling around him that left you newly unsure where to put your eyes. His rifle waited for its turn in its leather case beside him. Between you both, the road map spread over the foot of the bed, a sprawl of the country, veined with highways, thousands of possibilities. You worked up the nerve to look at him. König's mask was off; his hair tied loosely, strands still hanging about his face. He had been wearing a balaclava, which he now rolled up as a hat.

"I just don't understand," you sighed.

"Not much to understand," König glanced at you sideways. He put one finger down onto the map, tapping a sparse patch of dark green. "The safe house is two weeks' drive north, then maybe half a day hike. My contact assured me there would be plenty of supplies there to last."

"Contact...? To last...how long is that?" You mumbled into the cup as you took a sip. Sour, watery, brewed with cheap beans that even sugar and cream couldn't conceal. You set it down, trying not to make a face and appear ungrateful.

"Until spring," König stated so casually, while you almost choked.

Outside the grimy motel window, soft snow floated in the chalk-colored air and dusted the asphalt of the parking lot, clinging to the power lines. Winter silently promised you to hold on long and fast with each flake that stuck. You sighed.

"That's…terrible. But that's not the part I don't understand."

He set his pistol in its holster, then leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, looking at you expectantly as if asking, Then what?

But you hadn't worked up the courage to be direct just yet. To say how you felt about running from being trapped in your hometown to being trapped in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, alone, with König. It unsettled you as much as it horrifyingly thrilled you. So you wanted, needed to drag your feet.

"Have you done this before?" You finally asked. "How can you be so sure they won't follow us up there?"

König cleared his throat and took a moment to respond. "These things, they happen. I do my job, separate of everything any one employer might be doing. But it will get messy, sometimes. Nothing to do with me, as I said, special consultant, no strings. Still they are angry at me, even if I'm doing my job." He leaned back, reaching for the rifle. "It's best to wait until it all blows over."

You tried to listen carefully to this logic, this world you could barely understand. What had the news labelled them, international gang members? Still, he had avoided answering your questions directly, plying you with his logic. God, it was just too much. "Then I can go home, right?"

König met your eyes. "You want to go back?"

"Of course." You knew you answered too fast, too defensively. It felt wrong coming out of your mouth, sounded worse in the air, faltering your next words. "I-I mean, at some point, don't you think? I want—I want…" What did you want, exactly? To return to the house? It would be nothing like the bittersweet dream you'd had.

Would it be better or worse than being on the run, hiding in motels and in the back of the truck? It was getting harder and harder to know.

As you toiled in your brain, König had silently stood, pushing the map aside to sit on the bed. Over the blanket, he put his hand on your foot. The contact broke from your reverie. Slowly, his hand slid up to where your ankle and calf might be beneath the sheets. "I want you to be safe," He said quietly. "I promised you I would take care of it, did I not?"

The soft sincerity melted your defenses some. More and more, you felt yourself slipping into some kind of mood, deeper and deeper around him, a feeling hard to really comprehend between the stress of everything else. Cloyingly sweet, you couldn't help but still wonder distrustfully in the back of your mind if it was to hide venom laced beneath. "I don't know," you mumbled, looking away.

What you wanted to say was, I don't know how safe I am with you around.

Ashamedly, you looked down. Something caught your eye. "Wait," You pulled the map to you, — with it, a thought, an idea. You unfolded the map fully over your legs. "How about, can we um, go here?" From the place he had circled, you drew with your finger a line to the only other option you could see; the large city you'd left to go to university in. A slight breakaway from a straight route, but not l further than midway between where you were now and the so-called safe house.

"That's where I went to school. Where I worked. I had to leave so abruptly, because—you know." You spoke quickly, the idea forming more and more in your mind. The streets you were familiar with, had walked through enough to know, not as well as your hometown, but enough.

König looked down at the map, scanning silently, then back up to you. His eyes were suddenly hard, switched from the tender look seconds before. "You would not be able to speak to anyone you know. Not any friends," König replied coolly. "It would be too dangerous to let anyone know where you are, what you're doing."

You felt a pinprick of discomfort. "I don't have any friends." You replied softly.

Flickering your glance back to König, his face was hard to read. Calculation, suspicion? It unnerved you, so you kept talking. "But I never, really um, got to say goodbye. I could show you what my life was like, before all this. My old apartment…the park I really liked. I want…I want to show you." You tried to smile, trying to hide your surprise at the sincerity of your voice. You even leaned in, until your hand brushed where his sat on your leg. "Please, König?"

König stared at you for a little longer. At your pleading, his cold authority tempered out. "I will think about it. I will not promise you." He watched as you wilted, and he lifted his hand from your leg, thumbing your cheek with an affectionate pinch. "When you look at me that way, it is hard to say no."

Hope, hard and bright, flared in your mind. If this worked, once he got you there safely, you could make moves of your own; you knew it. The city was huge, after all. Big enough of a city to run away from König entirely, and never be found by anyone. You could even return to your old life there. You could beg off one of your old acquaintances until someone lent you their couch. You could pick back up and leave this nightmare behind.

The idea of it surged you with energy. Without thinking, you pushed up from the bed until you were on all fours, hooking your arms around König's neck in a hug. "Thank you...!"

König's arms snaked around you, and you yipped as he hauled you into his lap, your arms still tight around his neck. The hand that didn't hold you in place slid over your bare thigh, down your calf until his hands swallowed up your ankles.

Your face warmed as you remembered you wore no underwear; your lips parted instinctively. He hiked up your knees so he had you folded in his lap. But he didn't try anything. Instead, to your surprise, he placed his lips against the soft mounds of your kneecaps, the wet his mouth left behind chilling the skin. He closed his eyes and turned his head to you as he leaned his cheek where he'd just kissed. He rubbed his head up and down a moment like a cat against a leg; you felt the wiry bristles of his beard, the smooth scars, the weathered skin of his face.

"I like to see you happy," König sighed. His eyes opened a crack, and he gazed at you narrowly, through his lashes. “But I need you to be safe.”

The profession made your face burn all the more, the heat spreading over your chest, dropping into your stomach. Embarrassment, mixed with guilt at the planned deception. The energy between you both had shifted. You found yourself less stiff, less defensive against him. Pliant to his touches, even if the sensation felt searing, almost burning, in its exhilarating novelty. You wondered if it was in your mind, psyching you out, but König seemed to have relaxed some as well —in his posture, in how he regarded you, in the ease and gentleness with which he handled your body.

Something burned at the back of your mind; a darkness. Not necessarily about König, either. About yourself. This care and attention, this touch. You realized that what you couldn’t fathom; that it was authentically, fully yours. Especially since you hadn’t known him all that long; He knew a lot about you, but you knew close to nothing about him. However — as much as this ought to concern you, it was smothered by his compassion, his care and attentiveness of you, everything you tried to hide. It was hard to shine the light back upon him, when it burned to have it on you. Guilt pricked harder at your heart, a honeyed thorn mixed with your hope to return to normalcy.

“You shouldn’t need anything from me. I don’t… I can’t give you anything." You whispered. "I don't…have anything."

You felt the sensation of König shaking his head, just slightly. The bristles of his beard catching just so on your skin. You saw his lips moving, but you couldn't quite hear, quite understand his mumbling. Softly, barely audible, breath warm against your legs.

“Hey, who's this?” It was Lars. I relaxed slightly, though still wondering if maybe something had happened to James that impaired his ability to come to the phone. “Hey, it's me, is James there?” My voice was heavy, tired from being up so late to keep up with the timezones. It was only now mid morning where James was.

“Oh, yeah, one second,” he responded, lowering the phone so I couldn't hear him, but his loud voice was hard to ignore no matter what, “Hey! Dickhead! Your girl's on the phone, she wants to talk to you!” He called out to the other side of the hotel room, when I could hear a muffled response and shuffling and the transfer of the phone.

“Hey, baby. Missed you, what's going on?” I could hear the smile in his voice, a sigh escaping him as he recovered from the tense interaction with his bandmate. I was relieved at the sound of his voice, “Not much.. Just laying down, I miss you, it's so cold and empty in the house. I wish you were here,” I replied, and he sighed. “I know, I wish I was there too. Just another month. Then I'm back. I'll make up for all the lost time, I promise,” he reassured me, "How's the baby? Everything alright?” He was always so curious about every little update. If I could feel kicks, how big I was getting, every detail of every doctor's appointment, he wanted to know it all.

“Baby’s good, had an appointment today,” I knew better than to leave it at that, as I knew he'd continue to ask, “They checked my vitals and the baby's vitals, everything looks good. I got another ultrasound,” he perked up at the mention of the ultrasound. “Really? See anything? Or anything different, I guess.”

“About the same, it just looks a bit more… put together, you could say.” I explained, a wince leaving my lips as my stomach knotted in a horrible pain. “That's good, hey, are you alright? What's wrong?” His voice quickly turned from excitement to concern, "I'm fine, just hurts a bit… It'll go away,” I calmed him, but the frown was still evident in his voice. “Im so sorry, swetheart. Wish I was there to help you.”

“It's ok, I can handle it.” I continued playing with the phone cord, my eyes glued on my now large belly. “I know you can, I just want to be there for you. I feel like I'm missing out on so much, touring sucks.” His voice was guilty, like he was truly doing something wrong to hurt me. “Jamie, it's fine. You'll be back next month, you're not missing everything… it's not like anything cool really happens until the baby actually shows up,” I laughed softly, trying to cheer him up, which worked to a degree.

It was quiet between us for a moment, him processing my words, me starting to fall asleep. I was woken back up as he spoke again, "Y'know, I'm really excited to do this. Be a parent with you, it's just so surreal. Just to think we created this little life that's in you, and that one day I'll actually be a dad, it's just… crazy, isn't it?” I smiled behind the line, “Mhm, it is.. I'm excited too, you're gonna be a great dad.”

“Are you sure? Im scared Im gonna fuck up some how, I just want this to go good.” He had been nervous since I first told him I was pregnant. Excited, but fearful of a failed future. “Of course I'm sure, you're already an amazing partner. You're gonna be the best father to our baby,” I reassured him, and he eased slightly, though I knew I'd have to do this everyday till I gave birth, and probably after that too.

“Thanks, honey. You don't realize how much that means to me.” I could hear him moving over the phone, "I'm sure you look so pretty with your bump, all glowy and gorgeous like they say with pregnant women. And then once the baby is out, you'll be so adorable, holding our kid and smiling. Can't think of a sight more beautiful,” I could feel my eyes start to water, not with sadness, but with love and appreciation. Maybe it was how sleepy I was, maybe it was the hormones that made me more emotional than usual. I don't know anymore. I sniffled, the tears audible in my voice, “Jamie..” I heard him laugh, “Oh, sweetie, are you crying?” He sounded actually worried, trying to not agitate me. “Dont laugh!” I got defensive, wiping at my eyes. “Youre so sensitive, it's ok. I think it's sweet,” he tried to comfort me, but his comment bothered me further. “Im not sensitive!” I argued, and he laughed again. “Yeah, yeah, and you're not pregnant too. Whatever you say.” He teased again and I rolled my eyes.

“Shut up…” I mumbled, getting annoyed. “Hey, don't tell me to shut up. You don't mean that.”

his lips twitch when you finally turn to him with a smile.

“mr. riley!” you greet, walking to him excitably.

“just ‘simon’. please.”

simon’s aware of how his body reacts to you. how, as you draw close, he shifts, muscles rippling to see you better. to hear you better. to pretend that he can ever touch you.

but he doesn’t have to wait. not when you take his hands in yours, holding in a way that is so gentle and sacred, the shame he tried to stomp down begins unfurling from the base of his lungs to tickle the base of his throat, ready to spill over.

“you’re usually not here for the sunday services, simon,” you say, and simon tries to suppress the tremors that racked his body upon hearing you say his name.

again, he wants to plea. say my name again.

but you are looking at him with worry, and while simon is a greedy, greedy man who wants to at least have your concerns if he can’t have your love, he doesn’t like the way your face falls as you fret.

so he smiles, crooked as it is, and tightens his hold on your hands, careful not to do any more lest it just pushes you away.

“yeah,” he replies, his voice croaking. “may i request something, sister?”

sister. it leaves such a vile taste in his mouth.

“of course.” your eyes are still furrowed, your lips downturned in a sorrowful pout. “anything.”

simon breathes in sharply, the weight of your words punching the air out of him, and he buckles, folding into himself as he chokes on his words.

your worry explodes, gentle prodding now a panicked cry. “simon!?”

“it’s nothing,” he lies. “i’m okay.”

you let his hands go—simon tries not to whine—only to feel you pull him closer, short arms curling over his back, your warm palms rubbing soothing nothings against the plane of his spine.

this feels like torture—your kindness will be the death of him.

“please, tell me how i can help you,” you whisper, darling even as you look as lost as you feel. “the church is here for you, simon.”

“i know,” he says even though all he wants to say is ‘all i need is you.’ he breathes in, staggered rasps not quelling your worries, but simon bulldozes past your gentle touch, afraid that he’ll get addicted to this.

“i need your help,” he continues. “help me repent.”

you blink, going slack. you begin to pull away and simon, a man who has faced more painful things more than the feeling of your warmth separating from his, shakily lets you go.

“i cannot give you penance, simon. only the priest can do this—i can go get him-”

simon pulls you close again when you begin to stand up, surely to locate the priest that gave the service today, but simon doesn’t want him. he doesn’t want a stranger to hear the rising tides in his heart. he doesn’t want someone to forgive him for his guilt.

“no,” he whispers, his voice so quiet. so vulnerable. “i can’t-…”

your lips are pursed but your eyes are alight with wonder. with consideration.

simon prays that you will grant him even this.

a heartbeat passes, a stuttering silence ringing in his ears, and then, “okay.”

simon smiles. “thank you.”

-

the rite started like this: with simon sinking into the confessional, watching you from the thin divider as you do the same, noting the way your fists are balling your habit, your hands trembling at the sacrilege.

because simon knows. before coming here, before bowing into himself in front of you, simon already knew. he knew that you could never give him the penance he told you he seeks for. he knew that this—you sitting in the confessional—is a chip to your vow.

he knew that you’ve, once again, put him before the lord.

simon aches to sink his teeth in the plush flesh of your body. to worship you the way you deserve to be. instead, he ignores the festering desire, swallowing the yearning he feels as he does the sign of the cross.

“bless me sister for i have sinned.” he licks at his dry lips. “it’s been…” he hesitates.

“tell me,” you say when his silence draws on. “this is not a place of judgement and forsaking.”

tell me, is what simon hears instead. tell me, i will understand.

“it’s been eighteen years since my last confession,” he continues, breathing raggedly, his face burning up as the words begin spilling. “these are my sins: i am lusting for her, i cannot stop thinking of her.”

the gasp on the other side of the confessional makes his blood jump, his mind feeding him images—is this how you would gasp out if you give yourself to him? is this how you will sing when he takes you, gently and deeply? is this how?

“i dream of a life with her. i dream of the way she will fold herself into my arms, tucking my sharp corners into her tender parts. i dream of the way i can touch her—all-consuming and ravenous. i dream of how she will feel when she’s with me. how she will taste like when i’m with her.”

simon breathes in deeply, the sound slicing through the heavy silence in the booth and passing through his teeth like a hiss.

“i want to devour her. i want to strip the layers of her honesty and fill her with me. just me.”

he clenches his fist, preparing for the last of it all.

“i want to worship her.”

the weight of his words fall like judas’ tender kiss, resounding in their immorality.

“for these, and all my sins,” simon begins after the stretch of silence. “i am truly sorry.”

“i see,” you whisper, breathless yourself. simon wonders how you must look; would you have your eyes open in surprise? would you have your lips pursed in distaste? would you look at simon like the sinner that he is? would you begin to leave him be?

“pray with me,” you say, ripping him from the depths of his uncertainties.

simon lets your words wash over him, dripping down the lines of his veins and dragging across the stretches of his scars. he knows you couldn’t possibly offer absolution, but simon feels forgiven.

more than that, simon feels seen.

he feels raw, his vulnerability exposed to the very person simon who makes simon’s knees buckle, but it feels correct. it feels like this is where simon should be.

at your mercy.

when the confession is over and you two have stepped out of the booth, simon relishes in your shy gaze, eyes fleeting between him and the altar. he smiles, his eyes crinkling, because simon’s heart truly feels at ease.

“thank you,” simon murmurs, hands twitching by his side as he yearns to reach out and pull you close.

“of course,” you reply, bravely holding his gaze. “always.”

that night, in the comfort of his room, simon traces the hardening length of his cock. he shuts his eyes and conjures the image you made—shy, quiet, flustered—and the sounds that spilled from your lips—breathy, choked out, hesitant—and fists at his flesh, thinking.

dreaming.

Happy birthday to the sweetest, kindest and most beautiful soul. Love you!

Your birthday. It’s your birthday today and he’d completely forgotten it. You’d reminded him, several times the past few weeks, and every time he’d promise that he would make it the best day ever. That you and him would spend it together, all day with full focus on you and not a single thought on anything else. He’d promised himself to leave work behind, even just for one day, to really be able to make it special for you and now here he stood imagining your face when you realized he hadn’t kept any of it. Carlos fingers flew over his screen, quickly trying to call you again. When you didn’t answer, he hadn’t expected you to, he typed out a message.

C: Carino I’m so sorry

C: Im sorry, please call me? Or let me come see you?

C: I can pick you up after your dinner and we can do something? Anything you like

C: I love you, I’m sorry

You didn’t respond at first and Carlos began pacing the apartment, the stress and guilt eating him up from inside. He was just about to call one of your friends when your message finally came.

Y: Im out with friends Carlos, it’s fine.

Y: Love you too

He stared at it, a lump in his throat. He hated that you said it was fine, he knows it’s not. He knows what he has done is not fine and he knows you are not feeling fine either. He can see you, surrounded by your friends but also being reminded that he completely fucked you over today. The words its fine didn’t feel right, he could practically feel the disappointment laced beneath them.

C: Please amor, let me make it up to you.

No reply. Carlos kept his phone by his side the whole evening, waiting and constantly checking the screen hoping to find you giving him another chance but the silence dragged on. As the hours ticked by he realized you weren’t letting him off the hook that easily, not that he thought you should, but the panic inside him grew. Today should’ve been about you, about showing you he was capable of putting work aside, proving that despite everything always being about racing you were his priority. He hated that you gave him so much of your time and energy and he just- forgot. When he finally heard the sound of a key in the door he scrambled to his feet and moved out into the hallway, just in time to see you step inside. Your eyes met for the briefest moment before you turned away, expression calm but guarded.

”Hey.” He started, voice soft and overflowing with regret. You offered a quiet greeting, still not meeting his gaze, and he continued. ”Im so so sorry. I forgot, and I know that such a dickmove and I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I have no excuse, I just-”

”It’s fine Carlos.” You nodded, hanging up your coat with slow and steady movements. Your tone of voice betrayed you and Carlos could heard the hurt you tried to hide. ”I know you’re busy. Its fine. I didn’t want to bother you.” The words slipping from your lips had his chest tightening.

”You’re never a bother baby.” His words came out almost as whispers, eyes pleading. ”I- I know I messed up, I should’ve been here. I promise I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” He didn’t miss the way something flashed in your eyes, something hard and cold before your face softened. The sadness in your gaze when you watched him had him want to clutch his chest.

”You don’t have to promise anything Carlos.” The way you spoke was almost resigned. ”It’s fine. I just wish I didn’t feel like I’m something you have to work to fit into your schedule instead of something you actually want there.” The words stung, more than he had expected. Carlos wanted to reach for you, pull you close and tell you how important you were to him. That he’d give up everything else if you asked him to. But he didn’t, instead he just stood there looking into your eyes and realizing you didn’t want to talk to him right now. Carlos stayed still, watching you delicately make your way past him and he felt the weight of the promise that might’ve come a little too late this time.

That night, when Carlos eventually joined you in bed, he could feel the invisible wall between you. He caught himself glancing over, hoping you’d turn to him or shuffle closer like you’d usually do. He wanted nothing more than to have you curled up against his chest, but something in the air stopped him from reaching out. Instead he stared up at the ceiling, your earlier words replaying in his head. You felt like he didn’t want you, like you didn’t matter enough to him to make time for you in his schedule.

The days that followed didn’t seem to get any better. Carlos didn’t know how to approach the subject, didn’t know what to say, and you moved through the apartment like a ghost. You were always polite, always kind, but distant. When he asked if you wanted to join him for coffee or go for a run och a bike ride you’d shake your head while offering a soft smile, telling him you didn’t have time right now. When he tried to bring up the upcoming weekend, a weekend he knew was free for both you and him, and suggested that you’d plan a trip together you once again offered a sweet smile and told him you’d be up for whatever worked best for him. You stopped asking him for things, he noticed, and you never reached out first. When you kissed it was him who leaned in, when you ate together it was his suggestion. You didn’t remind him of plans, didn’t suggest movie nights, didn’t send him those funny little updates on your day when you were apart and he missed it. All of it. You didn’t even utter a word of complain when he was busy, you just let him go and never asked for even a moment of his time. Every time he noticed you step back something inside him twisted.

One evening, after Carlos had spent the day at the training center, he came home to find you sitting on the couch reading. You looked up at him when he entered, offered him a faint smile and a small hello, before turning back to your book. Usually, before all this, you’d be quick to ask him about his day, pull him down to cuddle with you and gently scratch the stress away from his scalp. But now it was as if you almost went out of your way not to talk to him. Carlos couldn’t stand it. It had only been a few days but the tension, the quiet ache of your absence was driving him mad. Taking a deep breath Carlos shuffled over, taking a seat on the coffee table infront of you. You shifted, glancing up at him, but didn’t speak.

”Can we talk?” His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. You hesitated, you hated that you did, before nodding slowly.

”Of course. What’s on your mind?” The way you answered, so calm and almost indifferent, made him have to swallow the lump in his throat. He took a deep breath, choosing his words carefully.

”It’s not about what’s on my mind, it’s about yours. I, well I can feel you pulling away and I get that it’s my fault, you know? I know it’s because of what happened but I- I don’t know how to fix it. ”

”Carlos,” you murmured, eyes trailing down to your fidgeting fingers. ”It’s fine. I told you, I don’t want to bother you. I know you’re busy, I know you don’t need more stress in your life.” The words hit him like a punch. A bother. He could tell you genuinely believed that, that you saw yourself like someone, something, that bothered him. After everything you’ve been through he’d somehow made you feel like an inconvenience in his life.

”Don’t say that.” His voice was strained as he leaned forward, elbows on knees. ”You’re not a bother. Never. I’m sorry I made you feel like that. I know forgetting your birthday was the dickmove of the century, I really fucked up-”

”It’s not about you forgetting my birthday Carlos.” You shook your head softly, interrupting him. ”Or, well it is but not just that. It’s that sometimes, more recently, it feels like there’s no room for me in your life. Like you’re not willing to make room. I’m here all the time and you come find me when it’s convenient.” Carlos flinched, words cutting through his heart like sharp blades. You were right, he knew you were, but he hadn’t been willing to admit it earlier. He barely was now. You’d always been so kind, so understanding and supportive of his career and his demanding schedule and your support meant the world to him. He hated that he hadn’t showed you that. He hated himself for taking it for granted.

”I know I haven’t been good at- well at balancing things.” As he spoke his voice was thick with regret. ”And I know it’s been a lot recently, but carinõ I never meant to make you feel like, like you’re on the outside. I see you as a part of my life, like the biggest part. You’re what’s important.” Your gaze stayed trained on your hands, expression softening but still guarded.

”That’s nice to hear.” Murmured words had him carefully reach out to wedge his hand between yours and for the first time in days you didn’t pull away. ”I get that you have a lot on your plate and I want to support you I just, I don’t know if I can keep pretending it doesn’t hurt.”

”You shouldn’t. Pretend, I mean.” Silence settled slowly as Carlos tried to gather his thoughts. He held your hand tightly, thumb swiping gently across your knuckles. He knew what he wanted to say, he wanted to throw promises at her and beg her to give him another chance, but he also knew that wouldn’t cut it. Carlos understood that whatever he said now wouldn’t matter until he actually showed you, showed up for you, and he silently promised himself he would. As a single drop hit the back of his hand his eyes quickly trailed back to your face, feeling his chest clench as he watched yet another tear slowly slip down your cheek. With a deep breath he squeezed your hand, leaning closer. ”Can I please hold you?” The question felt weird on his tongue, he’d never asked for permission to touch you before, but it seemed necessary in the situation. When you offered a small nod, sniffing quietly, Carlos didn’t hesitate. In a swift maneuver he was seated next to you in the couch, arms wrapped around your frame as you fell against him. He released a shaky breath when he felt your arms snake around his torso and he pulled you somehow even closer, nose pressed against the top of your head.

”I missed you.” Your voice was barely audible but Carlos could feel the words seep into his skin.

”I missed you too.” He spoke against your hair. ”And I know I will have to show you for you to believe me, but I really am sorry. You deserve a lot more than I’ve given you lately and I promise I’ll be better. I’ll make time, real time, for us. You’re the most important person in my life, you’re my person, and I’m not losing you.” Carlos eyes fluttered open as you slowly pulled away, looking up at him with a mixture of sadness and hope.

”I really hope you mean it.”

”I do.” You held his gaze in silence for what felt like forever until you finally nodded.

”Okay.”

~~

The days went on after that and soon enough days turned into weeks, weeks into months. Carlos had really realized what he had been doing to you, how his neglect had chipped away at the foundation of what you had built together, and he’d been working on it. Really working on it. At first it was awkward, you both thought so. Carlos wasn’t used to scheduling his time around someone else, not in the way you needed or in the way he wanted to offer. He had to force himself to slow down, to prioritize moments with you. He learned to say no, to meeting, to interviews, to unnecessary events because he had realized what it cost him to always say yes. The reward for saying no though, was what really brought him happiness. Every time he chose you, every time he prioritized you over the demands that came with his career, he saw something in your eyes. Relief, hope, love. It hadn’t been easy though, not all of it. There were moments when he still caught you hesitating before asking for something, moment when he knew you were keeping yourself in check not to be a bother, and every time it broke his heart a little bit. One time you carefully suggested that the two of you could take a small trip, since both of you were off work for a few days, and he could tell you were bracing yourself for disappointment even as you asked the question. He knew you still kept a lot of your feelings to yourself, brushing off things that upset you, and that’s what hurt him the most. Knowing you were still healing from what he’d put you through. There were good moments too, the majority actually, that made both of you feel like you were moving in the right direction. Like when he surprised you with a packed picnic basket one morning when you thought he would be at work. Or that time he saw you smile, really smile, when you heard him turn down a late-night meeting just to stay in and watch your favorite show together. It was a slow process, earning back your trust, but he was determined to make it.

One evening you sat on the balcony together, the glow of the city and the sinking sun blending together in front of you. Carlos had you tucked closely to his side, fingers twisting a strand of your hair absentmindedly as both of you just seemed to enjoy your time together.

”You’re quiet tonight.” Your soft murmur had him gazing down at you, smiling softly when he saw your face already turned up. Carlos moved his free hand to brush a strand of hair from your cheek.

”I’m just thinking.”

”About what?” Carlos hesitated, unsure how to express what he was feeling. When you reached up to grab his hand, tilting your head in that way he always found so endearing, he spoke up again.

”About how lucky I am. That you’re still here, with me, you know? That you didn’t give up.”

Your expression softened if possible even more, fingers intertwining with his. ”I never wanted to give up Carlos, I never wanted us to end.” You assured him, brows softly knitting together. ”I just needed to know if you actually wanted me here.” Carlos chest tightened, reminders of those painful days when he didn’t know if he’d be able to fix what he caused flashing through his mind.

”I do. I did and I do. I’ll always want you, need you.” He paused to lean down and press his lips against your forehead for a moment, taking a deep breath in through his nose as he gathered his composure. “I’ll never stop trying to show you how much you belong in my life, how important you are to me. Because you are.” Carlos tensed for a second as you pulled away, holding his breath as you looked at him. When you finally moved again you slowly leaned up to kiss him, lips soft and warm against his, and Carlos felt himself relax again. As you pulled back he saw a glimmer of something in your eyes, something lighter, as if the weight you’d been carrying was slowly starting to lift.

”Thank you.” Once again your words came out soft, softer than he felt he deserved.

”For what?”

”For fighting for us. For wanting to make this work. You could’ve just given up and focused all your time on all your other stuff, but you’ve really tried.” Your words had him melt, the arm he had around your shoulders tightening slightly. ”I do really appreciate these past months Carlos, and I know it hasn’t been easy but it’s been good. Great. You’ve been great.”