It's race day
Pedro has better things to focus on, he knows that
But—
Fermín has a girlfriend. And she's here. In the Gresini garage. In the paddock– in his territory.
It's not just that she's there, it's also the way Fermín exists around her
It's familiar to Pedro in a way that spreads a bitter taste in his mouth.
The way his eyes sparkle when he's amused.
Or the way he laughs right from the bottom of his stomach
Even the slight hint of vulnerability he allows around the people he only trusts, when he stops using humour as his defense mechanism.
It's sickening, in a way, to see someone know what used to be his person in all the intimate ways that were once reserved for him.
It's not like he intends to hyperfixate on it; but how can he miss the cloyingly sweet way they hold hands
He was the one that pushed Fermín away.
Or how pretty, how right she looks in his garage, wearing his shirt
Even the way they kiss
He thinks he's going to throw up. It's not like he has anyone to blame but himself. He was the one to push Fermín away.
He was the one who had been so certain that it would be better off this way.
He was the one who had kicked out a teary eyed Fermín after telling him that he meant nothing to him, as if years of laughter and whispered confessions and lingering gazes could be erased so quickly.
The race was about to start, he had to go out now,
But maybe— just maybe, both of them would pull up in parc ferme next to each other, and maybe that was a part – the only part – of Fermín he could keep.