Chapter Text
For Marc it has always been not usual, but kind of normal, to wake up in a hospital bed. His body hurts so much that it seems that he was kicked by a hundred men. When he tries to move his head almost kills him. He hadn't the guts to open his eyes yet, it was just too much, it feels like he has a stone tied in his head.
He hears some voices but can’t recognize them, almost like if he is hearing underwater. But after some time, he is not sure how much, because time seems so relative now that he can't properly wake up and is fighting with his body to try to understand what is happening, he hears a so familiar voice that he wants to cry.
He knows he is in a hospital, so he knows he has crashed, and when it happens it is never a good sign for him. And he probably hit his head because the voice can not be real. Why would Valentino Rossi, the person who hates him, be in the hospital with him?
What if he was involved in the crash too? Fuck, if he did crash too, it is sure that he lost the title and it's all his fault again. He can’t race straight on a bike and has to fuck Valentino’s hope too.
The thought makes him want to cry, now he doesn't want to wake up and face the reality where he will never be worthy again and will never be able to look at his stupid crush face again.
And he stays still the longer he gets, but apparently his ability to always move is not affected. So he hears a female voice that he doesn't recognise, so she is probably a nurse or his doctor.
“Don't worry, giving his last brain activities in the CT he will wake up soon… look, he is moving”
But he can't feel anyone approaching, and he does not want to wake up, too ashamed of his behavior in the last couple of weeks.
“Go ahead, talk to him, it may help” He hears the voice again. And then he feels a hand in his arm, a soft touch.
“Marc”. And now he definitely cries, hearing that accent saying his first name, it brings memories of a time that will never return, of moments he will never live again. “Can you hear me?”
He now feels the hand wiping away the tears that kept falling. Why is Valentino touching him? Why isn’t it his mum, dad or even Alex? What did he do?
He tries to open his eyes. At first it hurt, there was too much light. Once he opens his eyes, the hand on him withdraws and he feels another one, colder, touching him instead. He doesn’t want this nurse or whatever, he wants to talk to Valentino and ask him what is happening.
“W-What…” he tries to say, but his throat hurts and he can’t keep it like this. He also closes his eyes again, he doesn’t want to feel lost anymore.
“You had a big highside, Mr Marquez, but you are being taken care now, don’t worry,” the nurse explains. Well, of course he crashed, he tends to do stupid things even when he is fighting for the championship, imagine now that his chances are long gone alongside… But he can’t keep the track of his thoughts anymore and falls asleep.
When he woke up again his head didn’t hurt anymore and he could properly open his eyes. It was also darker, which helped, he must have hit his head badly. When he looked around it didn’t take him too long to find that Valentino was still there. He was sleeping and Marc still had no idea why he was there.
He tries to move and the noise the bed made woke Valentino up too, who quickly gets up to reach him. “Hey, how are you feeling?” And the Italian’s voice is tender, with a hint of love .
“Sore,” he manages to say. This time Valentino helps him with a glass of water, that he drinks as if he was in a desert and just found an oasis. “Thanks,” he says to be polite.
“I was so worried, Marc...” it seemed like he was going to say more, but Marc didn’t let him, he can’t stay there listening to Valentino saying these things to him like this . The italian can’t pretend he likes him just because he is in a hospital bed. Yesterday he was yelling at him, saying that he didn’t want to see his face ever again, and now he is worried?
“What are you doing here, Valentino?” His tone was probably too harsh as he saw a hint of hurt in the italian’s eyes. He is about to apologise and say he didn’t mean it, when Valentino spoke up again.
“Marc, what’s the last thing you remember?”
He tries to think. He doesn’t remember the race, but he was in a room in the paddock. “We were fighting, you said again this was my fault and you wouldn’t reach your dream because of me,” he is surprised that he said everything without his throat complaining, he guesses he is already getting better.
“I will find the doctor,” Valentino says, rushing to the door and leaving Marc with no idea of what just happened. Is he really ok? Or maybe he died and is in heaven dreaming with Vale?
A different person from before enters the room, probably the doctor, she greets him, makes some examination in his chest, eyes, and Marc tries to follow Vale’s expression from behind the doctor, this time he seems really worried.
“Well, nothing was showing in the CT and the other exams are also looking good,” Valentino nods and Marc just looks at them.
And then the doctor turns to him again and asks:
“In which year are we?”
With no hesitation he answers.
“It’s 2015”