my Roman Empire or whatever is that G-man isn’t really called G-man their files are just called that. like oh yeah we just call em that coz the files say so. THE FILESNDKDM😭😭😭
Pedro hadn’t planned to be in Austin this early — truthfully, he hadn’t planned on being here at all.
His schedule was supposed to look very different; he was meant to be racing in Australia, battling for points and pushing himself to the limit on the track. But fate had intervened in a way that made him feel small and powerless. It was during the sprint, an unexpected slip that sent him sliding and left his shoulder injured, throbbing with a pain that was more than just physical. His team had tried to keep his spirits up, assuring him that he’d recover in time for the next race, but the withdrawal from the main event still stung like a fresh wound. It wasn’t just the missed opportunity, but the sudden isolation that followed.
The medical staff had cleared him to fly after some evaluation — Pedro didn't understand why he could fly and not ride — and once Pedro heard the news, there was no second thought about where he needed to go. Even though it was thousands of miles in the opposite direction of where he should have been, he was desperate for a kind of comfort that could only come from one person. He had booked the earliest flight to Austin he could find, not caring about the jet lag or the exhaustion that would come with it. He just knew he needed to see Oscar — needed to feel something familiar and steady when everything else felt like it was slipping out of his control.
Now, standing outside Oscar's hotel room, the quiet hallway felt almost unnaturally still, the faint hum of distant traffic the only noise. It was nearly 4 AM, and Pedro hesitated for a moment before raising his hand. He knocked softly, a tentative sound that seemed too quiet to be heard, as if he were afraid of disturbing the silence of the night or waking up the entire hotel. For a heartbeat, there was nothing but that stillness, and Pedro wondered if Oscar would even hear him, or if his boyfriend was sound asleep after a long day.
But then the door creaked open, revealing a bleary-eyed Oscar, still half-caught between sleep and waking. His hair was tousled, and his expression shifted quickly from confusion to concern as he took in the sight of Pedro standing there. The dim lighting of the hallway highlighted the weariness etched into Pedro’s features, the way he was holding his injured shoulder stiffly, as if any movement might aggravate the pain. There was an exhaustion in his eyes that ran deeper than the long flight or the time difference; it was the kind of tiredness that came from feeling like everything was falling apart and not knowing how to put it back together.
“Pedro?” Oscar’s voice was thick with sleep and surprise. He blinked as if to make sure he wasn’t imagining things, his gaze darting from Pedro’s face to his shoulder and back again, reading the silent distress there. "What are you doing here, baby?"
In that moment, Pedro felt the last of his composure crumble, the tight control he’d tried to maintain on the flight and the long walk to Oscar’s door slipping away. He opened his mouth to speak but found no words, just a sharp, overwhelming need to be held, to have the reassurance of Oscar’s arms around him. Without thinking, he took a step forward, his legs suddenly feeling unsteady. He barely made it another step before his strength seemed to give out, and he fell into Oscar's arms, his face pressing against the familiar warmth of his boyfriend’s chest.
Oscar caught him instinctively, his arms circling around Pedro’s waist to keep him steady, his concern deepening with each passing second. It didn’t matter that he was half-asleep or that it was the middle of the night; nothing mattered except that Pedro was here, clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping him from falling apart completely.
“Jus’… needed to see you,” Pedro whispered, his voice hoarse and barely audible, the weight of his exhaustion evident in each word. “I didn’t wanna be alone.”
Oscar’s heart clenched, a pang of helplessness mixing with a rush of relief that Pedro was here, safe, even if battered and worn. He’d seen the post-race report the moment he stepped out of qualifying. His heart had dropped to his stomach as he scrambled to call Pedro, his fingers fumbling over his phone in a rush to hear his boyfriend’s voice, to get some kind of reassurance that Pedro was okay. But each call had gone unanswered, every message left unread. The hours of silence that followed had been suffocating, his thoughts spiraling from one worst-case scenario to another. He had assumed Pedro was too upset to respond, shutting the world out as he dealt with the aftermath of the crash — not on a plane across the ocean just to be with him.
Now, seeing the raw vulnerability in Pedro’s eyes and feeling the tremor in his body as he leaned into him, Oscar didn’t hesitate. He wrapped his arm around Pedro’s waist and gently guided him inside, kicking the door closed behind them to shut out the world and its chaos. He kept his grip steady as they moved, one step at a time, until they reached the bed. Pedro sank down first, his movements slow and stiff, and Oscar followed immediately, sitting beside him and drawing him close, as if the act of holding him could somehow make the pain go away. Pedro leaned into him fully, his head nestled under Oscar’s chin, his good arm wrapping tightly around Oscar’s waist like a lifeline.
“It’s okay, you’re here now,” Oscar murmured, his voice low and soothing as he rubbed gentle circles on Pedro’s back, feeling the tension in his muscles slowly easing under the touch. “You’re with me, and that’s all that matters.”
The room was dark, the heavy curtains drawn, with only the faintest traces of light seeping in from the city outside. The silence that settled around them was thick but comforting, like a cocoon where time seemed to slow and blur. Pedro let out a shuddering breath, his body finally starting to relax in Oscar’s embrace. All he wanted was to stay like this, held close, with the warmth of Oscar’s body surrounding him and making the world feel a little less harsh. The throbbing in his shoulder was a constant reminder of the crash, but the ache seemed less acute, less unbearable, with Oscar there to hold him together.
Oscar’s hold on him tightened slightly, as if afraid that if he let go, Pedro might slip away. He could feel his own heart beating faster, a mix of relief and a quiet desperation he hadn’t even realized he was carrying. Pedro was here, in his arms, when he should have been resting in a hotel room across the world, recovering from his injury. It was a lot to process, and Oscar pressed a soft kiss to the top of Pedro’s head, the gesture more instinctive than deliberate. “You didn’t have to come all this way,” he whispered, even though there was a part of him that was secretly, deeply relieved to have Pedro here, no matter the circumstances. The thought of Pedro suffering alone, thousands of miles away, had gnawed at him for hours.
“I know,” Pedro replied, his voice muffled against Oscar’s chest, the fabric of Oscar’s shirt damp where his breath lingered. “But I needed you.” There was a raw honesty in his words, a confession that spoke to the emptiness that had settled inside him after the crash. The truth was, he didn’t know how else to cope, didn’t know how to navigate the disappointment and the hurt on his own. He needed the steadiness that came with Oscar’s presence, the way his touch seemed to soothe not just the pain in his shoulder but the ache that had settled deep in his chest.
Oscar didn’t respond right away. He didn’t need to. He simply held Pedro closer, letting his hand run up and down his back in slow, rhythmic strokes, coaxing the tension out of his muscles with each gentle pass. The sound of Pedro’s breathing began to soften, the ragged edges smoothing out as exhaustion finally started to take over, pulling him toward sleep. Oscar could feel the weight of Pedro’s body leaning heavier against him, and he adjusted his hold, cradling him more securely. No matter what the time or the place, no matter what chaos or heartbreak lay outside these walls, Oscar would always be there to catch Pedro when he needed him most.
And so, they stayed like that, entwined in the quiet comfort of each other’s presence, the world outside slipping further and further away with each passing moment. As Pedro drifted off, Oscar whispered into the darkness, his voice barely more than a breath, “I’m not going anywhere, cariño. I’ve got you.” And with that promise, Pedro’s grip on him relaxed, his breathing evening out as he finally surrendered to the pull of sleep, safe and loved in Oscar's arms.
I met a super nice guy today, we shared a lot of interests and we were having sm fun until i said something about my bf - he got up, excused himself and left
WHY CANT WE BE FRIENDS, MY GUY???? YOURE SO NICE AND I WANTED TO KEEP TALKING TO YOU ABOUT F1 AND KARTING ;-;-;-;
Making myself upset thinking about Bakura and how he deserved to be heard out and he deserved to have the offer of friendship extended to him and he was a victim of zorc too and he deserved apologies for everything he went through and he didn't deserve to be tossed to the side and treated as irredeemable he had feelings and hurts and trauma and love in his heart even though it was twisted and used against him and he deserved better
