Chapter Text
Strella is obsessed with some racer named Shane. Or is it Sean? Vanny doesn't know, nor does he care. It's been over a year since he kept up with anything on the circuit...
All he knows is one minute she's pleading and begging him to get her two tickets to the first round of tryouts for the motorcycle Grand Prix, then the next, he's texting Lily out of the blue to see what deals he can get on front row seats.
Lily didn't ask many questions at first.
He gets the tickets, sends them to Strella, and thinks that's that. Only, hours later he finds out her date bailed. It's too last-minute to find someone else and of course, she doesn't want to go alone, so... Vanny is clearly the next best option...
I can't. Never again.
At least... that's what he thinks to himself.
In the moment, it seems like the right thing to do: ask Lily if she would sit with Strella for the evening so she isn't alone, but no. No, no, no. That's where he went wrong. Very wrong.
He receives a call out of nowhere. It happens so fast...
"Strella is your friend after all," Lily explains, "so why shouldn't you go with her? Plus, you and I haven't caught up in a while either, and oh my, what's this? There just so happens to be three seats available together on the front row and one happens to already be mine?"
He'd walked right into her trap, unable to think of any excuse to back out even though there are plenty.
And that brings him to his current predicament—his heart pounding as he sits in the front row, adrenaline flooding his system every time the row of bikes zip past at top speeds. He squints at the massive screen in the distance that supposedly covers up-close footage, but it's a fuzzy blob.
"Here Vanny, you can view it here," Lily says, and he looks to his right, forgetting for a moment the others are there too.
She hands him a tablet, the images now a foot from his eyeline and clear as can be expected. He nods gratefully, taking it. "Thanks."
"No problem!" She tosses the long white braid over her shoulder, smiling at him. "So, how'd you and Strella meet? Did you finally get a roommate, or you still living alone?"
He gives her a look when Strella answers shyly: "We were friends in high school. We haven't hung out in a while though, but I knew with the past racing experience and all—er." She looks at him quickly and her face pales, standing out against the color of her bright pink hoodie. "I mean! I just knew that you and Lily knew each other, and seeing as though Lily is Caio's sports agent..."
"It's alright, Strella," Vanny says reassuringly, ignoring the way his heart sinks. "You're right. I do have nice racing connections."
"You and Caio still talk regularly," Lily states, not even trying to pose it as a question as Vanny looks at her curiously. "He might be the only one that you do, it seems."
"Wait, how do you know?"
She snorts, pointing to herself. "His sports agent. Remember? You two are constantly texting. It can be a real hassle sometimes, you know, especially when he needs to be on the track in five minutes and he's sending that last message to you."
Vanny's lips part. "I told him he doesn't have to answer back right away! He promised he wasn't going to do that anymore!"
"Well, he does and is. Nothing I say will stop him."
Vanny pulls out his phone, immediately bringing up their messages by impulse. He's already pressing send on a scolding text to Caio when Lily swipes his device. "Oi! Seriously? I can't have him checking his messages right after his race! He'll never get changed and out the door anytime this year!"
"Hey! Give it back!"
"Ms. Lily?" Strella cuts in quietly, and they both look over at her, Vanny's hands around Lily's wrists, the woman still clutching his phone in her hand. "Do you get to interact with Shade much?"
She lets go, and Vanny's pocketing the phone again. "Shade, huh? That's who you're rooting for?"
She nods silently.
"Well, first of all, it's just Lily. No Ms. needed. Secondly..." A look passes over her face, and Vanny can tell she's holding back as she nibbles on her bottom lip. "Well, Shade is an interesting fella to be sure. He was top of the charts last season in the MotoSummit circuit, and it's looking like he's going to pull something similar this time around too."
"What is he like? Is he... d-dating anyone?"
"Dating anyone?" She bursts into laughter, and Strella blinks back at her blankly. "One thing that's constant about Shade is he has a bad attitude, and he works alone."
"He doesn't have a sports agent?" Vanny questions curiously.
"Nope. No team of any kind, if you don't count his mandatory, assigned pit crew. He's always pissing off other racers, you know. He may have a rabid fanbase, but that's the only positive attention he gets. Not gonna lie, he's a real piece of work."
"He's misunderstood!" Strella shouts, and they both look at her. She shrinks back under the gazes, face turning red. Clearing her throat, she continues in a quiet voice: "H-he's a total mystery. No one knows his background, where he came from, how long he's been racing! He just kind of showed up, and I mean, you can't deny he's handsome!" As she says this last part, she looks away shyly.
"He was really top of the charts in MotoSummit?" Vanny asks, looking down at his little screen. He scans the side bar for the names when Strella grabs his arm roughly.
"There he is!" she screeches, her normally reserved voice gone again. "There, there! Oh! He's so amazing! GO SHADE!"
Her voice rings in his ear while Vanny blinks at the screen, the camera zooming in on the lead racer.
"And no surprise, Shade takes the lead!" a voice booms over the intercom. "He's sure to make finals again no question!"
This Shade has a distinct blue helmet with cartoon eyeballs printed all over it that catches Vanny's attention. His body armour is a light blue, and underneath it, leather: the entire right arm black and the left white. His bike is black and white with a blue snake printed on it.
That's when his profile pops up on screen.
It's the pose every biker is required to make for their profile pic—helmet off and under the biker's arm—and it has Vanny temporarily distracted. Shade is smiling (more smirking than anything), winking at the camera. Vanny's heterochromatic eyes trace over the waist length, bright blue hair with white bangs, lingering on the glittering cut crease coated with a similar blue eyeshadow. The single white eyebrow and white lashes of his left eye stand out starkly against the mirrored right which are black. He's even wearing lip-gloss...
"Isn't he stunning?" Strella says into his ear, and he jumps at the proximity. "I wish I could get my hair to grow that long..."
"I'm sure he spends a fortune dying it," Lily remarks flatly.
He is very attractive, Vanny has to admit; pretty in fact, which isn't a word he's used to using to describe a guy. It makes him stare. If only he was brave enough to dress the way he wants, the way this racer does... Not that anyone would take him seriously. He doesn't even look like a guy, much less sound like one...
"And Shade is being overtaken by Caio!" the announcer cries. "He's coming right behind and—Oh! This should be interesting!"
Vanny squints, watching the two bikers on his little screen—Shade in front with Caio right on his tail—then his eyes widen. At a tight turn, Shade slams on his brakes late into the corner, cutting into Caio's lane, forcing the black and silver leathered rider to swerve and slam on his own brakes. Caio falls behind as a result. With lightning quick reflexes, Shade weaves for a moment, then continues ahead in first, his movements not even human.
It was a cheap trick, one Vanny isn't fond of, but alas it was legal and admittedly an impressive feat.
"Of course, he would divebomb," Lily murmurs under her breath. "He knows Caio is the one to use it on too. Bastard."
"Go Shade!" Strella cries, not hearing Lily's gripes.
Vanny grips the tablet harder, watching his friend fall into fourth place, adrenaline pumping through his veins. "Come on Caio..." he whispers, the black helmet and silver visor hiding the stern face he knows so well.
As if he heard him, Caio recovers, getting back up to full speed. The camera angle is to the side now, showing off the black and white twin dragons painted on the side of his motorbike. He takes his corners extra hard, drifting in and out of them expertly, taking the next two competitors with ease, getting right up alongside Shade again.
His tire management and line optimization have always been superb, somehow better now than when Vanny used to follow his every race back in the day. His experience and precision definitely have Shade at a disadvantage.
They're turning, Shade taking it sooner than Caio, and with a grin, Vanny knows exactly what his old friend is planning. Waiting until what looks like the absolute last second, Caio finally turns, carrying visibly more speed into the turn, successfully passing Shade. And it's just in time too as Caio crosses the finish line first.
The crowd erupts. It's deafening, and Vanny is out of his seat in half a second, screaming Caio's name, nearly dropping the tablet as he pumps one fist into the air. He's shouting, rabid, coursing with adrenaline. He barely recognizing the voice coming out of him.
As much as he won't admit it, he's missed this, maybe more than anything he's ever missed in his entire life. The roar of the crowd, the bikes peeling across the track, the loud engines... The very air tastes like liquid exhilaration. He remembers his own last second wins—the way it feels to whip around the track at unfathomable speeds when you overtake someone... He clenches his hands, remembering the touch of his handlebars, the pressure on the throttle...
A flash of something resurfaces. He's immediately pushing it away, the shock of the memory making him drop the tablet for real this time.
"Shit! Sorry, Lily..." He's bending down, picking it up, but his hands are shaking, his breathing rate increasing, his chest tightening, heaving... He's trying to calm himself, trying not to think about it. About everything that happened that day and what followed...
He's there again, peeling around the corner, in first place, the crowd is cheering. He's confident, over the moon, but he's taking the turn too quickly, he's colliding with another competitor, then he's no longer on his bike, soaring through the air. He's landing, another bike collapsing on top of him and there's pain, but he passes out before he can feel it. But he does feel it later. He's waking up, his vision completely gone, everything is agony.
His parents are so disappointed he's out of the season for good. He can try next year. He tells them as much in his hospital bed, but they aren't having it. If he'd just worn the body armour they'd commissioned, maybe he wouldn't be out of the season... It's laughable. As if any type of body armour would have made any difference in that crash.
He's kicked out of their house, recovering alone in his shitty apartment he's barely managed to afford, and any future medical appointments are put on hold until he can get the money to pay for them, which is likely never considering the condition of his eyes... It's not until Caio finds out about his situation, that his friend insists on helping him, insists on covering the eye surgery. The doctors say it's a miracle he retained any of his sight after waiting so long to get it. They say he's lucky...
"Vanny, are you okay?"
Blinking into the present, he exhales shakily, standing. Looking out at the fuzzy stands and the blob that is the racing track, a bitter knot wells up in his throat. Swallowing, he shoves the tablet into Lily's hands. "I shouldn't have come here." He says it more aggressively than intended. "I'm leaving."
"Leaving?" Strella exclaims. "But they still need to interview them at the podium!"
"Come on, Vanny!" Lily chimes in, putting a hand on his arm. "You just got here and—"
"You knew I wasn't ready," he snaps, turning on her and yanking his arm away, and both women blink up at him in surprise, "that I might never be ready, and yet you pushed me into this! Why would you make me come here? Do you even know what this place means to me?" Emotion fills his voice. "Of course you don't! All you care about are the numbers and the social media! This is why I never reached out, you know!"
She blinks, clear hurt flashing over her face. "I was pushy because I knew if you came, you'd enjoy it, and you were a moment ago! Come on, Vanny!" She stands. "You were the best racer in the women's division! Probably the best in the world. Racing is a part of you. I know it's still important to you! I thought if I got you to come here, then maybe if you got used to it, your spark would come back and you could—"
"Could what?" he spat, getting into her face. "Race again? I can't even view it from the stands..." His chest heaves, lip trembling. "Fuck you."
Strella gasps, and he turns, storming away.
"Vanny, wait!"
"Fuck off. And don't follow me."
He's pushing through the crowd; everyone is still on their feet and going crazy. The noise which had just been his source of excitement and euphoria is now a piercing agony he can't escape from. The sounds of his regret, his anguish, his loss. He walks faster, speed walks, then he's full sprinting, ramming into a few people who aren't in his direct line of sight.
He needs to get away, far away from the noise and the people...
Tears he can't control well up in his eyes, and the dreaded things become even more useless as he feels his way down the railing, descending the blurry steps to the exit.
To think he could ever be okay with this again is laughable. For him to get back on a bike is even more ludicrous. That life is over whether he wants it or not, and he can't ever look back. Never again.
