Archive of Our Own

They're driving out of Maranello and Sebastian can't help but marvel at the beautiful scenery that whips past them. He's grown so fond of this place, fallen so deeply in love with all its flaws and imperfections that he's not sure he'll be able to do so much as merely exist without it.

“You're still going to visit, though, aren't you?” Charles asks as if Seb had been saying all of this out loud.

Despite his witty brain, Sebastian can't decide on an appropriate response. He wishes he could simply yank on race overalls that are not red and be done with Ferrari but... Ferrari means far too much to him and shoving his memories into a dark corner where they could never be found is not at all what he wants, even after the horrible season they've had. In fact, this sounds virtually as painful as trying to rip his own heart out.

Also, he doesn't know which answer would please Charles more. They're not quite on bad terms, they hang out occasionally but it's not like they share some special bond, a profound understanding of the other's passion. He doubts Charles would appreciate him tinkering with his toys.

He settles on a shrug, eyes devoid of any emotion, and Charles glances at him with concern.

“Take a nap. You look like you need one.”

Sebastian quickly checks himself in the rear view mirror and immediately winces at the sight of his own face. It's been a long week, filled with handshakes, press duties and making a note of thanking everyone personally. He's happy for it to be drawing to an end.

Charles' road Ferrari is warm and comfortable. It smells of bright red paintwork and pristine leather seats.

Sebastian reclines his seat and watches his teammate as he changes gears. He is unusually quiet today, almost as if he's bothered by something but lacks the words to voice it. Sebastian can give him as much time as he needs in order to figure it out; they're bound to be stuck together at least for a few hours.

He doesn't hate Charles, although illustrious front pages of La Gazzetta might suggest otherwise. There had beeen moments in the past - Brazil last year, Austria this year, bloody Monza, he thinks scornfully to himself - when Charles had made his skin itch and crawl. He's fairly certain Charles has entertained the same kind of thoughts about him at some point. But what reason do they have to be bitter to each other any more?

In many aspects, Charles reminds him of his younger self. He's so young, so full of dreams and ambition as if it doesn't cost you every breath in your lungs and every drop of blood in your veins to meet even your lower standards. When he smiles, it's full of sharp edges and his eyes spit blue blazing fire. He walks with a confident spring in his step, conquers everything that's on offer and he's nice while doing so. The one single time he'd been in his house in Switzerland he'd seemed far more interested in Sebastian's vast collection of shiny trophies, fan gifts and souvenirs from all the countries they travel to than the actual memories they are connected to.

Charles is a complex code that he'd studied for over two years and yet he'd failed to crack. Maybe Sebastian should have been better prepared, fold his cards and keep them close to his chest. Now, he's lost the only thing he's ever dared to dream of.

So be it then, he sighs silently. Sebastian has always been his own person, he wrote his own story and emboidered his name in golden thread with his bare hands. He's been denied of his crown but he's still a king.

He falls asleep at some point during the journey and only blinks awake again when he senses the car coming to a halt.

He feels well rested but his mind struggles to catch up. Eventually, he realizes they have stopped at the side of a narrow country road and he frowns in confusion as they were supposed to only use the autostrada in order not to miss their flight.

Charles has stepped out of the vehicle, perched up against the side of it, arms crossed tightly. Sebastian leans forward and peers at him through the open door, massaging at a sore spot in the back of his neck.

“How do you do this?”

He barely catches the whisper. Charles' eyes aren't visible behind his dark shades but he looks vulnerable. Seb doesn't recall a single occasion when his teammate looked vulnerable. More often than not, he'd exhibited killer instincts and he'd been thoroughly praised because of this throughout his junior career. He's the last person Sebastian anticipated to doubt themselves or be unsure of their skills.

He shifts his body in one swift movement and dangles his legs over the footwell. “What do I do?” he asks curiously as if he hadn't immediately picked up on what Charles truly meant.

Charles scoffs. “This!” he insists and when his hands unfold to wave furiously in the air, Sebastian remarks that the flesh around his nails has been gnawed and chewn on. He doen't comment. “Be told that you're not good enough and still smile. Lose and still be happy.”

Sebastian chuckles weakly. There are many things he could tell him but he doubts Charles would understand half of it.

“Racing isn't everything” he chooses to say instead and unsurprisingly Charles isn't impressed.

“It has to be everything” he mutters mostly to himself and turns a bit away from Sebastian.

Sebastian jumps out of the car as well, patiently waiting for Charles to arrange his thoughts before he speaks again. He stretches to get rid of the stiffness and at the same time flicks his eyes over their surroundings.

Charles has picked a nice secluded spot near a forest. In this time of the year, it's probably not quite as fascinating as it could have been since the trees are stripped of their leaves and the grass is a shade of dull brown instead of healthy green but Sebastian likes it. He has always basked in spending time outside and he drags in a breath of fresh oxygen.

It's going to be beautiful here in spring. He imagines the blooming flowers and his kids chasing each other in circles, giggling, and he smiles. Maybe he should bring his family before the new season.

The grin on his mouth pulls wider. “Do you think I'll look good in green?”

It's said on a whim, something to joke about and dispel some of the palpable tension.

“Yes” Charles replies seriously. “I think you'll look stunning.”

Sebastian is taken aback, not expecting to be told such a thing. He spins around to stare at his teammate and realizes that Charles' eyes have narrowed and darkened. His breath catches in his throat.

He moves to stand beside the younger man, one leg folded on the knee and the heel of his shoe pressed against the tyre. He remains silent, however, not daring to cross the delicate line between them.

“I won't apologize” Charles clarifies and it's uttered with so much firm convicton that Seb has the urge to laugh.

“I'd never ask you to” he says gently and Charles allows the miniscule of a smile.

“It's not goodbye” he offers kindly, noting Seb's glossy eyes. “It's just farewell.”

Sebastian quietly agrees. “Yeah...”