2014.
Truthfully, Seb isn’t sure what the real problem is.
Mark is gone; has been gone for months, and the new season should be a welcome, fresh slate. Instead, Seb sits with his head between his hands after a disastrous third day of testing, cringing away from the data on the screen before him, barely listening to Christian as the man prattles on.
Across from him, Daniel says something unintelligible—honestly, after all these years, Seb still can’t understand Australian for the fucking life of him—and the tension in the conference room dissolves, just a little bit.
His voice is all wrong. The timbre of it is too deep, the articulation of every word too calculated, each vibration through the air reeking of an unhinged desperation.
Relax, Seb wants to say. Everyone already likes you. But Daniel’s palpable insecurity seems to have teeth, and after five years of dealing with Mark, Seb is wary about dog bites.
“Are you all right, Sebastian?”
Blinking, Seb turns to the source of the voice. Adrian offers him an encouraging smile. Or, it would be encouraging, if the circles around his eyes didn’t give his exhaustion away.
The least he can do is offer his own grimace in return. “Yes,” he says. Are you? “Thank you.”
Christian carries on with the debrief. The words swim around, useless and limp in the face of the year’s upcoming challenges.
If he was here, Mark would tap Seb’s foot with the tip of his shoe beneath the table. They’d exchange small bruises on their shins, if he was here. And if Rocky was in his old spot, he’d catch Seb’s eye and glare until they stopped.
Hiding a sigh, Seb crosses his ankles under his chair.










