What if the time Pedro wins his first MotoGP race is the time he starts looking at Fermín again. Not just the one way glances he takes whenever he is forced to acknowledge him on a podium or in a cool down room. Like actually looks at him, sees the way Fermín looks at him back like he hung the moon, like there's nothing else to see, like it's just them.
…
I can picture him coming out the finish line in first and an ocean of people screaming his name. The load roaring of engines doesn't even face him anymore, too engulfed by the noise of his own heart racing against his chest like it has a mind of his own. He would let out a choked breath out of pure excitement and relief. He wouldn't even feel his limbs going numb and the soreness creeping along his body, after all that fighting, all those places he's gotten up, all the defense, it doesn't even matter. He has done it. He has earned it.
He would stop by the end of the pit lane first, his engineer waiting for him, maybe even his dad. They congratulate him, hug him, kiss him and he feels in cloud nine, never wanting to go back from the high he is on at the moment. Then that's when he feels it, a warm touch on his back and it gets him to turn around.
It's him, Fermín is there, his bike next to Pedro's almost perfectly fitting side by side. Pedro would look at him through his visor, he can't see much because of Fermín's own helmet but he catches a glimpse of his eyes in there. They are small and wrinkled at the end. He's smiling, smiling at Pedro. It brings Pedro's mind back to when they were younger, when they could just smile and laugh together, when things weren't so complicated. Something burns inside his body. Fermín's hand is stretched out to him, waiting, expecting. And Pedro finally gives in, he grabs Fermín's hand like an anchor, like he really needs it in order to stay here in the moment with him, like it means something. Maybe it does.
Right there, Fermín's pulls, not hard, he just pulls. Now Pedro's suddenly being pressed against his chest in half a hug. This feels familiar.
He remembers the day he won the Moto2 championship, Fermín was also there, congratulating him. He remembers how good it had felt, the warm and fuzzy feeling when he leaned into the taller man. It was all too damn familiar.
He feels the burn again, but this time it's deeper, like an ache, very close to his heart. He can't help it, his eyes are wet when he leans in, more rapid than he intended to. Fermín didn't expect that, he can tell by the way he jerked up a little before diving in, leaning against him in the same way he has been aching to do.
Their helmets bump, a soft clack in between, but they don't care. The embrace they have it's the only thing in their minds right now. It feel like something settling in, something unspoken, something that was cracked but not completely broken.
Something Pedro's didn't realize could've been saved, but it is. Now it is.
I have posted this from a different broadcast here but now I've got my hands on a way to do this from official translation !!!! They are dumb asf i hate them
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