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xdacted · 8 months

Text

i think you were drunk (you spelled wedding wrong)

Paring: Reader x Carlos Sainz Jr.

Warnings: Hurt/no comfort, Fluff, Childhood love

Word Count: 5,807

Status: Complete

Inspired by: "Why'd you invite me to your wedding?" - Kevin Atwater

____________________

Carlos hadn’t seen the message until the next morning.

A message from a number he thought forgot about him. For a moment, he wondered if it could be true. If it was real.

“Hey! I’m sorry this is so out of the blue, I know it’s been a while. I hope you’re doing good, I watch your races so just know I’m always rooting for you. I miss being at the races with you, it was always so fun. I’m sorry it’s been so long. But I wanted to invite you to my weddign, which will be next month. I’ve sent an invitation to your family, I hope that’s alright. I wanted to invite you myself because I could not imagine that day without you. Let me know if you can make it, I know how busy you are. Love you.”

Then, right under it, is a smaller bubble that reads:

“Text me back if you can. I miss you.”

Carlos thinks he might be sick. He rereads the message, pulling his phone closer to his face. He can’t stop himself from whispering her name. It’s been years. This girl, his girl. His entire life, she’s been there, since he was little. They were fast friends, but, of course, to Carlos, it was more than that.

To him, it was everything.

__________

“Someone has a crush on Carlito!”

Her brothers were running around them, stomping across the grass. She groaned at them, they had moved twice - each time prompted by them coming around to pick at their sister. Carlos liked to giggle at it, he and Blanca weren’t as rambunctious.

Carlos knew that they liked to pick on her, but would always stop the moment she began to cry. She was their baby sister after all.

“Shut up! I do not!”

Her face was a violent red, the blush spreading up to her ears. She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest, and puffing her cheeks. Her brothers come to pull at her hair, pinching at her sides. She whines for them to leave her alone and Carlos can only giggle.

He thinks about what they’ve said. A crush? On him? The thought alone makes his face go hot. That kind of thing, with moms and dads and kissing. He hadn’t given it much thought.

Would it be so bad? Carlos didn’t think so. He thought that if he did have to marry anyone, he’d like it to be her. She liked racing and played golf with him.

“Maybe Carlito has a crush on you!”

“Stop!”

Carlos looked down at his lap. Did he? He pulls at the skin of his fingertips, his head full of thoughts. He shakes his head, trying to laugh it away, “No way!” He says.

It’s easier like that.

When he looks over at her, she’s staring straight at him, a smile on her face.

“We’re best friends!” She declares, glaring over at her brothers, “Right?”

“Right!” Friends. If she wanted to be friends, Carlos thought that was perfect. “Best friends.”

Because even friends could marry each other, right?

__________

He spent the morning staring at his phone.

Carlos thought that perhaps it would go away, fade into nothingness, but it was still there, a blue bubble glaring right at him. He had spent hours rereading it, so much so that he was sure he could recite it from memory.

‘I miss you.’

He squeezed his eyes shut. The memories of her were something that he kept away. Secret treasures that he held so close to his heart. Even after all these years, at just the simplest phrase, Carlos could feel his heart begin to pound.

It was only her.

It would only ever be her.

Evidently, he recalls bitterly, he wasn’t it for her. Carlos has to stop himself from throwing the phone. Even in the darkness of his mind, he can see those words. He can hear her voice, reading them aloud. It makes him sick.

He knew that they would meet again - he prayed for it - but never like this. It wasn’t fair. Almost cruel, he thinks, that he would be subject to loving her for the rest of his life. But, how beautiful it is to love her.

He thinks of her smile. The smallest quirk of her lips, something so shy and tiny. It was only full with him, or at least, it was. His mind wanders to who she might be now. There’s a part of him that knows he could find out, the quickest search of her name would tell him everything.

But there’s a reason he hasn’t, he was afraid of seeing her happy without him.

He couldn’t.

Carlos sighed.

His chest was heavy with emotion. There was a sea of them - anger, sadness, happiness, longing. He might just explode. Fall apart on his couch and just a mess of a man.

They were so young then. Just kids. Carlos thinks of the irony, they used to sit and laugh at the thought of people getting married so young. Thinking that you could devote yourself to someone you hardly knew, he remembers how they thought it was so stupid.

It isn’t as funny anymore.

__________

When Carlos got the call from Red Bull he cried.

His father had been pacing the room with him, talking about his chances and pondering on the season. But as soon as that phone rang, he was right at Carlos’ side, already pulling him into a hug as soon as he confirmed a date for contract negotiations.

It was his time.

His start was here and now.

When he managed to calm himself down, he called her.

She picked up and screeched in his ear when he broke the news.

“OH MY GOD! CARLOS! YOU DID IT!”

He started to cry all over again, “...I know…”

“I’m coming over,” She said hurriedly, he could hear her bustling around the room.

“Wait! You don’t have to -” She’d already hung up on him.

He was waiting outside for her, fidgeting with the dirt around the steps of his house. The excitement was buzzing in his veins, he could still hardly believe it. She rode up only a few moments later, dropped her bike onto the lawn, and ran up to him. He caught her in a hug.

Carlos couldn’t help the few tears that escaped him. His dream was finally happening. He would finally get the chance to be known as more than just the son of Carlos Sainz, he was going to make a name for himself.

He couldn’t wait.

When she pulled away, she was quick to seize his shoulders, “You did it!”

He could only smile, there was so much joy, he was bursting with it.

“I’m so proud of you, Carlos,” She said, smiling up at him.

He felt his face go red. She would never understand how much those words would mean. Everyone could hate him, everyone could be against him, but so long as she wasn’t, he could do anything. Since the very beginning, she had always been his biggest supporter. Every race she could go to, she was at. It got harder as he climbed the ranks, races were farther and farther. But it always seemed like she just knew.

When he would come back she would insist on a very detailed account, getting angry with him when he left anything out. She claimed it made her feel like she was there. Carlos always just rolled his eyes, but he could never deny how much he loved it. To know that she wanted him to do well.

It made every victory sweeter and every loss harder.

Above all, he hated losing in front of her. To know that she was watching, to know that she could see him fail. He hated it. But she always said that even champions have bad seasons, it wasn’t untrue, but Carlos hated it nonetheless.

They had moved to the steps of his house. Sitting beside one another, their knees touching, she bumped him with her shoulder.

“So, you’re going to remember me when you’re rich and famous?”

He rolled his eyes, “I don’t know. I’ll probably be super busy being too cool.”

“You are not cool.”

“Whatever,” He shrugged, “Don’t come crying to me when I’m champion.”

“As if,” She shoved him, he caught himself on the step and turned to her.

He began to laugh before hooking his arm around her neck, “Of course, I’ll remember you.”

‘I love you.’

“You’re my best friend.”

She looks up at him. Carlos thinks that there’s something that passes across her face, but then, it’s gone. She smiles a true smile. Wide and beautiful.

“Good.”

_________

His mother calls him on the way to a meeting.

As much as he wishes he could just let the phone ring, he knows he can’t.

As soon as he answers, she’s gushing in his ear, “Carlito, I can’t believe she’s getting married! How wonderful! She will be the most beautiful bride! The invitation is just gorgeous.”

He lets her speak, leaning back in his seat. It hurts to know that his mother is so excited. He always thought that she wanted him to marry her, that’s what she always said when he was a kid. Maybe everyone let it go but him.

“Did you know about this?”

“No, Mama,” He lies. It’s awful, lying to her. He can’t try to explain his feelings now, there’s still a part of him that wishes they’d go away. Hoping to drown himself in whatever work Ferrari will give him. The pain burns and he just wants to breathe again.

“We should send her something,” She adds, he can hear her moving around the house. He wonders if she has the invitation in his hand.

He hums, trying to keep the anger from his voice. This wasn’t her problem and he wasn’t going to make it hers. She doesn’t need to know - even if she did, what would she do?

His mother seems to think for a moment, humming a mindless tune before saying, “You should send her something!”

Carlos nearly chokes.

“What?”

“Yes!” Her voice is so bright, “You two were so close, why not send her something? A ‘congratulations’ of sorts. Yes, that would be nice.”

“Mama…” He begins, unsure of how to tell her, “I - I don’t know -”

“Carlos,” She warns.

With a sigh, he just hums again, “I’ll look into it.”

“Good,” He can hear the excitement ramp up in her voice again, “Isn’t this just so beautiful?”

Carlos can’t respond.

It isn’t. It makes him sick. The very thought of it makes him want to cry and scream. Anger burns within him, stomach twisting. He hates this. He hates it because he loves her. He loves her more than anything.

“It is.”

__________

It was quiet, the summer sun dancing on their skin. A breeze pulling through the air, tall grass blades dancing. The smell of the garden roses drifting around them.

Carlos’ heart was pounding, thudding against his ribs, nearly jumping into his throat. He tried to swallow the anxiety that nearly lept from him, but the nerves in his stomach made it impossible. He felt like he was choking. Just sitting beside her, so close, but so far.

He could feel the heat of her hand, he yearned to touch her, to intertwine their fingers. It wouldn’t be wrong, they held hands a lot back then, but he wasn’t sure he could do it, afraid his heart would’ve exploded.

“What is it?” She looked over at him, her eyes trying to pry the information out of him.

He tore his face away, fists clenching at his side. He was always so afraid to tell her. Just a boy terribly in love with a girl, but he could never bring himself to say it. When he tried the words would abandon him and he would just end up brushing it off.

But there, in the silence of the garden, he knew there was no hiding it. Not when she was boring a hole into the side of his head. She stared right through him. He took his lip between his teeth, horrified at the thought of it all slipping out.

She would hate him. If he ever dared to say something like that she would kill him, he was so sure. It’s funny to look at it now, but he just focused on the blades of grass beside him. The green was bright and strong, small weeds blooming within the folds of dirt. He reached over to pluck at a dancing flower, but his hand was caught.

She grabbed him, fingers around his wrist. Her hold was hardly there, he could break free from it if he wanted. But he didn’t want to. He wanted to stay there with her.

He was sure that she could feel his racing heart, but she said nothing. Just bringing her hand up to rest in his palm. His stomach flipped, and he shut his eyes.

This wasn’t like him. Carlos had never been a coward, but for her - and only her - he was reduced to nothing. He loved her, his feelings brimming inside him.

Any more and he was sure that he would come apart at the seams.

“Carlos,” Her voice whispered.

He cracked his eyes open, and she was there, leaning over to peer down at him. Her hair fell from her shoulders, so close that he could smell her shampoo. It was the same one she’d used since they were 6 - one her mother made. The scent was her and her alone.

Carlos swallowed.

She lowered herself closer. Carlos was sure his heart was so loud that she could hear it, surely she could. She smiled down at him, cocking her head to the side.

“What are you thinking?”

He just shook his head, afraid to trust his voice.

“Then?”

“‘Then’ what?”

“Why won’t you look at me?” A pout made its way on her face, jutting her lower lip out dramatically.

He chuckled, trying to rein in his heart. But it was so difficult, her beautiful eyes looking down at him, the lines of her lips and nose and cheeks. He had memorized it all. He would know her no matter what, from the way she laughed, to the way she spoke, to the way she just breathed.

Carlos loved her so much it hurt.

‘I can’t,’ He didn’t say, ‘I love you too much.’

She didn’t say anything. Just smiling down at him. Carlos thought that just for a moment if even for a moment, something shifted in her eyes. A foreign look floats in them, dancing in the color and making them shine.

It was odd.

He wanted to know what that was, the smallest change. Silence pulled over them.

The sun shined through the parts in her hair, falling onto his skin, a gentle stroke of warmth. The breeze carried the scent of the roses, and the grass below them swayed. Around them, the world seemed to slow. It was like the only person he could see was her.

The only person that she could see was him.

Lost somewhere in time, just two hearts dancing away in the summer. Nothing else would matter, just them, just at this moment.

Carlos lost himself.

He leaned up, closing the space between them, and kissed her.

The softest thing, a barely there press of their lips.

He hadn’t even realized he’d done it, pulling himself away as soon as he did.

Neither of them said a thing. Just staring at the other with wide eyes. A pink blush dusted her cheeks, and that look in her eyes changed again. She drew in a sharp breath, and Carlos was sure he’d ruined everything.

It was destroyed because of him.

But he couldn’t even mutter out an apology. There was nothing to say, nothing to do. She moved away, rolling back to sit on the grass. Carlos felt like crying, bringing a forearm to cover his face.

What an idiot.

He felt the regret sit against his chest, so heavy he could hardly breathe. Why did he have to lose control of himself? They were supposed to be friends, but all he was doing was making it complicated. He was in love with her, she loved him - it was supposed to be enough.

Carlos let out a deep sigh. He could hear the grass shifting beside him, he spared a look over and she was still there. She sat with her knees pulled up to her chest, tucking her chin on them, arms wrapped around her legs.

When he opened his mouth to speak, she beat him to it, “I - I guess…I mean, I guess it would be lame if you went to Red Bull without having your first kiss, huh?

He shot up, “That’s - that’s not what this was! I - I’m sorry!”

She turned to face him, her face still bright red, but with a shy smile, “It’s ok.”

He hadn’t realized that he reached for her hand, and she squeezed, “I didn’t mind. If I’m going to have my first kiss, at least it’s you.”

Carlos could only stare at her, mouth hanging open.

This wasn’t what he thought.

“Are you sure?”

She leaned against her knees, “Yeah. Isn’t that what friends are for?”

The word struck him deeper than it had any right to. But he couldn’t help the relief that flooded through him, “Yeah…yeah…of course.”

“It would be lame if I was the only F4 driver without a kiss.”

“Super lame.”

“Hey!”

She burst into laughter. Her laugh filled the garden and he was soon to join, throwing his head back. This was easy. Being like this with her was easy.

“That means you would’ve been lame too.”

“Not as lame as you.”

“I’m super cool.”

“No, Carlos, you’re not.”

They never spoke of it again.

__________

Carlos nearly has a heart attack when his phone buzzes in his pocket. But, upon further inspection, it’s only Blanca.

‘I talked to Mom,’ Her text says, ‘She told me what happened.’

He just stares at it. Pocketing his phone, he’ll answer it later. Too many texts have been sent to him today. Carlos contemplates running over his phone. Maybe that’ll shut everyone up.

His pocket buzzes again. And again. And again.

With a groan he pulls it back out, scrolling through the messages.

‘Answer me.’

‘CARLOS.’

‘Ok,’ Is all he sends back, ready to tuck it away once more, but there’s another text that pops up.

‘Are you ok?’

For a moment, Carlos thinks about telling her. Though he never said a word about his feelings Blanca had this way of knowing. She called it a ‘sister thing’. Carlos just thought she was nosey.

‘Yes,’ he sends, following it with, ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’

The text bubbles appear and disappear, it’s not very fair. He knows. But there’s too much happening and he can’t - he just can’t. Tomorrow he will apologize, but today, he just needs a break.

In one of her ‘sister thing’ moments, she only ends up sending.

‘OK, I’m here if you need anything. I love you.’

Carlos can feel the lump in his throat and struggles to swallow it.

‘I love you too.’

__________

She called him sobbing.

It was nearly midnight, Carlos had just gotten back from a race. He’d fallen onto his bed, sighing into the night air, when the rang. He thought about letting it go, the rings growing louder in the silence of his room.

Against himself, he reached over and answered.

As soon as he did, he could hear her heaving breaths, the sound of her hiccuping cries. He shot up and pulled the phone closer.

“What happened? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

There was no answer, just another broken sob. The slick sound of her sniffling, wet breath.

“Please,” He whispered, already standing, “Please tell me what’s wrong. Carino, please.”

“W-Will you come o-over?” She managed.

He did. Shoved his feet into his shoes, pulled a shirt over his head, and stormed right out the door. It never crossed his mind to take a car - he just ran. Pushing his way through the gate and rounding the corner into the street. He could hardly see a thing, the moon clouded and fuzzy.

But he ran to her.

He was there faster than ever, crawling over the small fence to get to her backyard. The garden stood tall, and the roses nicked his ankle. But all he could think about was the light coming from the upstairs bedroom, a shadowy figure pacing across the curtains.

He had half a mind to scream for her, but she peered through the curtains and he could see the relief spread across her face. The sight of her made his stomach drop, he nearly tripped over himself to climb the ledge. It was a path he’d taken countless times, jumping to grip the railing and hoisting himself up. As a kid, he used to need her help, but they weren’t kids anymore.

And Carlos is sure he would’ve found a way. Nothing could’ve stopped him from reaching her.

Dropping himself onto the wooden floor, he breathed her name, but she was already pushing herself into his arms. He felt her trembling against him, wet facing pressed into his shirt. He couldn’t have cared less. Wrapping his arms around her, he brought her closer. Claros dropped his head to whisper into her ear.

“I’m here…shh…I’m right here.”

Where her arms were locked around him, she fisted at his shirt, the fabric bunched between her fingers. Her grip was so tight he worried it might rip, but how could he ever worry about that? She pulled away from him, just enough to look him in the eye. Her face was blotchy, cheeks wet with tears, eyes red-rimmed.

But Carlos still thought she was beautiful.

The heartbreak on her face made something crack within him.

“W- What’s wrong? Please, tell-”

“My dad,” She gasped, sucking in a large fit of air, “It - it’s my dad…he’s dying, Carlos…”

The world seemed to go still. Her words hadn’t seemed real, and Carlos half expected her brothers to jump from the dark hallway and laugh. It wasn’t possible. Things like this weren’t supposed to happen to them. Things like this - losing people, losing friends, and family - happened to everyone else.

But not them.

It seemed that the world had finally come caving in on their little bubble. It was shattering around him and all Carlos wanted to do was stop it. Carlos felt so cold, that he hadn’t even realized that he began to cry too. Silent tears rolled down his face before he could stop them.

The pain was unbearable.

But they held each other. There, on her porch, they stood crying. Falling apart and having the other to lean on. Carlos clung to her, afraid that the world would try to take her too. That it would get greedy.

‘I’m sorry,’ He wanted to say, but he couldn’t. The words lost to him, stuck in his throat.

He prayed that she would know. That she would know his feelings, the way he needed her. The way he loved her.

“Stay,” She whispered to him, her words almost swallowed by her cries, “Please.”

‘I need you.’ Went unsaid, but Carlos heard it anyway.

“Always.”

‘I love you.’

__________

“Everything alright, mate?” Charles’ voice pulled him back to himself

Carlos shakes his head, blinking a few times, eyes stinging, “Yeah..fine. Sorry.”

He looks up, Silvia glaring down at him. The P.R. briefing was never anything he truly listened to, but perhaps his disinterest had gotten far too obvious.

“As I was saying,” She rolled her eyes, flipping the papers in her hand.

Her words fell past him again, something about interviews and language. He could feel Charles’ eyes still on him. He was far too kind for his own good, sometimes that meant trying to understand things that he had no business knowing.

The meeting rolled on, and when they were dismissed, Carlos tried to slip away, but he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey!” Charles hooked his arm around Carlos, “Everything alright?”

“Of course,” He tried to sell it with a smile.

Charles didn’t believe him, green eyes boring into his own. When Carlos looked away, Charles was quick to bid those around them goodbye and steer them to an empty conference room.

Damn, empath.

“What is it?” Charles said, shutting the door behind him.

Secrets had never been Carlos’ strong suit. He threw himself onto a chair, bringing his hands up to his face. He hadn’t spoken to anyone about the message and was unsure how to start. He was lost in the sea of his emotions, torn between his sadness and anger.

He felt like an idiot.

“Carlos?”

Charles sits across from him, concern written across his face. Carlos takes a deep breath, he steadies himself on his knees, resting his elbows on his legs.

“There was this girl - we were friends when we were little,” Charles nods along, letting Carlos speak, “And earlier today, she texted me to tell me that she was getting married.”

“OK?”

Carlos looks over at Charles. He’s unsure of the face that he makes, but it seems to be enough for him to understand. His face falls and he puts his hands over his heart.

“Mate, I - I’m so sorry.”

Carlos waves him away. This isn’t his fault, and yet, it’s just like Charles to act as if it is, “I will be fine.”

Charles is silent for a while, looking down at his hands. He’s fiddling with the rings on his fingers, eyes darting around the room. Carlos has known him for far too long, he could practically see the cogs turning.

“What?”

Charles doesn’t answer right away, but when he does, there’s a look in his eye, “Do you still love her?”

Carlos takes a deep breath. There is only one answer, there has only ever been one answer.

“Yes.”

__________

Her father died 4 months later.

And she was gone two months later.

Her mother couldn't take the pain of being alone in the house her husband built, so she left. All things packed, the house empty, they were gone.

Carlos couldn’t even say bye. His negotiations with Red Bull ran longer than they were supposed to, when he threatened to walk out his father nearly smacked him.

“This is the opportunity of a lifetime!”

“She’s my best friend - I love her!”

“There will be other girls, she is not the only -”

“Yes,” He nearly screeched, “She is! She is the only one!”

His father just stared at him, sharp eyes squinting. He would never understand and Carlos didn’t have the strength to make him. He called her instead.

She picked up on the second ring. Neither one of them said a thing, but Carlos could feel her disappointment. It was his own.

Eventually, he can bring himself to utter her name, trying to find the apology, but she beats him to it.

“I’m going to miss you,” She says.

Carlos nearly cries. They’ve been apart, his racing often keeping them away from one another for months on end, but she has always been at him, waiting for him.

“I wish you could stay.”

He was being selfish - he knows - but the fear of her leaving, going far away. Carlos thought he was dying. His chest was tight, breathing shallow. His mind was racing, trying to think of something to make her stay - anything.

“I do too,” He could hear the faintest hint of a smile in her voice, “But I can’t.”

“I could…” He began.

But there was nothing. There was nothing that he could’ve done. The decision was one that was far beyond both of them. Spain held so much sadness for her, and it would be wrong for Carlos to ever want to have kept her there. It wouldn’t have been right.

Silence ballooned between them once more. They were just there, breathing with one another. There was so much Carlos wanted to say, so much he needed to say. His love felt like it was bursting from his chest, trying to force its way out. Carlos choked it back.

This wasn’t the time. It wasn’t the right moment to -

“I love you, Carlos.”

The words hit him and he nearly collapsed. He could imagine her face, hand curled tight around her phone, beautiful face red. His heart was pounding, blood rushing.

All these years, all this time. He loved her in silence, but to know that she loved him. It made him feel like he was floating.

“I -”

“Carlos!”

His father was standing right before him, eyebrows drawn tight together, “They are waiting!”

“I’m going, I just have to-”

“You should go, Carlos,” He heard, her voice thin. She was crying, he knew she was, “They’re waiting for you.”

“NO!” He demanded. This wasn’t how he’d say goodbye, he wanted to tell her.

“Please, I just need to say something.”

Again, his father just stared at him. But there was something different, his eyes were softer. Carlos thought if even for a moment, he saw understanding. With a click of his tongue, his father turned away, “Five minutes.”

He breathed a sigh of relief.

He took a deep breath, “I - I need you to know-”

“I already do know,” There was a slight laugh to her words, just the smallest thing. Before Carlos could say anything else, she kept going, “Go show them who you are, Carlos.”

“But I need to tell you that I -”

“I love you too,” Was all he heard before the dial tone.

She was gone. Just like that.

__________

Though Charles offers to take him out to treat his sorrows, Carlos declines. He watches as Charles’ smile falters, but he still pats Carlos on the shoulder.

“Of course,” He says, turning to fish his keys from his pocket, “But if you change your mind, let me know. Okay?”

Carlos nods. He waves Charles away. When he’s alone in his hotel room, he collapses onto his bed. He slips his phone from his pocket. It opens and he’s face-to-face with her message.

Carlos wanted to be angry.

After years, this was the first thing she said.

He could say something, call her. It wouldn’t be right, he can’t be the reason that she breaks someone’s heart. He can't be the reason that someone else has to live without her. What a terrible existence that is.

It just makes no sense, to think that after all these years, she invites him to her wedding. Carlos always thought that once they made their way back to each other, they would marry. In all his dreams, she was his wife. To love her forever would make the distance worth it.

She told him that day. She said that she loved him, Carlos couldn’t help but think that maybe she was just being nice, just telling him what he wanted to hear on the most important day of his life. Thinking that maybe he had taken it wrong.

“Love you.”

But she would never love him the way he loved her. Completely. From the first day he met her, bumping heads in class, to the day he lost her. He has always loved her. He can see her still, smiling and bright - like the stars. He can feel the summer breeze, the smell of their childhood. He can see the rosebuds right before they bloom, waiting with her as the rain comes and they get sick. He remembers going to all her Flamenco performances - acting like he really cared about dances and not just seeing her face light up when she saw him.

There is no part of his life that he can look back on and not see her. She is everywhere. And Carlos knows that she always will be.

‘Text me back if you can.’

He couldn't bring himself to say no but knew he’d die if he had to see her marry someone else. It would break her heart, he’s sure of it. He can almost picture the disappointment on her face. Carlos wishes he could be stronger, to just put on a brave front, but he can’t. He’s only human.

He’s just a man hopelessly in love with a woman he can’t have.

What a pitiful thing to be.

Carlos looks down at his phone.

The words are searing. If he saw her, what would he even say? Would he be able to hold himself back? Keep himself from spilling his feelings?

The answer is simple.

He won’t.

There is something small inside of Carlos’ mind that feels giddy, she still thinks of him. He was still important to her, she wanted him. She cared about him. She missed him. Maybe she still loved him. Maybe he could -

He shakes the thoughts from his head. No. That was a lifetime ago, those feelings were alive when they were 16. Not now.

There’s only one question he thinks back to.

Why?

After all these years of silence, why now? Why this?

They were kids back then, but Carlos likes to think that even what they felt then wasn’t nothing. That’s the very problem. Nothing was the same. They weren’t the same, the world around them wasn’t the same - even if Carlos so desperately wished it was.

The screen begins to fade, but he taps it. It lights up once more, illuminating in the darkness of the hotel room.

She’s getting married and she wants him to come.

She’s happy and in love. She’s moved on. Carlos thinks of her smile again. A crushing sense of finality passes over him. He hopes that whoever it is makes her smile, and makes her laugh. He hopes that they hold her when she cries, and catch her when she falls.

He hopes that one day he’ll be able to look back on her without so much pain.

Why?

That question refuses to die, still floating around in his mind even as he tries to shake it away.

He’ll never know why, but maybe it’s better that way. To keep her as who she is in his memory, to keep them as they were. Young and beautiful. That’s all.

Her message will sit unanswered. He can’t. He won’t.

Carlos whispers an apology, he hopes that it might reach her. That she’ll catch the drift of his words in the wind, maybe even forgive him. He lets himself think of her, wondering what she’ll wear, what her hair will look like.

Beautiful.

He’s sure.

He just won’t be there to see it.

____________________

A/N:This work has been cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. All are under the name XDACTED. Thank you for reading and feel free to request fics about any of the drivers <3

Check out the song, it's not available yet, but it's up on TikTok

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #female reader #formula 1 #one shot #x reader #charles leclerc #ferrari #carlos sainz #ferrri and i actually have beef and that's why i've spelled thier name wrong #i hate them but love charles and carlos #carlos sainz jr #light angst #fluff #kid fic #no comfort #this hurt to write but i did it anyway #love you bye

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vlp-wrtng-prctcs · 4 months

Text

Conversación 2.0

No es un regalo en la exactitud de la palabra, pero sigue siendo un día especial y, ciertamente, sigue siendo alguien que me sigue inspirando bastante.

Así que @spinergy-69, nuevamente, le agradezco que escuche e incremente mi obsesión por este fandom. Y, otra vez, también espero que este haya sido un día maravilloso para usted.

Así que le dedico especialmente esta nueva versión inspirada en el drabble que hice de Cindy.

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-

Fue como una señal del destino.

No había esperado encontrar más belleza lejos del oleaje, una suavidad mayor al de la arena debajo de sus pies, ni siquiera esperó encontrar un calor mucho más abrasador y tierno que el mismo proporcionado por el sol; pero, otra vez, algo la empujó a caminar hacia el magnetismo de la figura que se realza como un sentimiento conocido, predestinado.

Su mente, aún incapaz de traducir ese sentimiento, ignora a la entidad que comienza a difuminarse junto con el paisaje, hasta que este mismo llama su atención.

Es perfecto, peligrosamente perfecto, no necesita tocar su piel para saber que el algodón apenas es una comparación paupérrima, no necesita preguntarle si tiene una rutina de belleza para una tez tan maravillosa. Cindy ni siquiera necesita preguntarle quién es para saber que es, quizás, el destino presentándose como un hombre. Su hombre ideal.

Pero, se recordó, que la cautela incluso en las almas gemelas siempre será la elección correcta. No importa cuánto brille algo, podría ser simplemente oro para tontos. Aunque, piensa casi de inmediato, sus ojos ámbar no parecen piritas sin valor.

Se mantiene fuerte, orgullosa; los hilos rojos son una posibilidad mínima de encontrar. Y su corazón no necesita falsos lazos para subsistir.

Es fuerte, inteligente, en su alma arde determinación y superación.

Más las llamas danzan inestables cuando lo ven intentar acercarse, a veces torpe, a veces galante. Y ni siquiera puede comenzar a cuestionarse si se está riendo por adoración o porque, de cierta forma, ese hombre está comenzando a derribar cada muralla que alza con una inexplicable facilidad.

Tulio, como según se presentó, no dejó ningún espacio para dudar en su declaración inocente: estaba interesado. Nunca mencionó el romance, ni una estabilidad en esa confesión, únicamente pura atracción y curiosidad. Lo que Cindy respetaba, especialmente ante la identificación sobre esos pensamientos iniciales; también creía que Tulio era atractivo, un adonis, demasiado perfecto para considerarse verdadero, lo que, por ende, avivaba su curiosidad. Más no permitiría que esta última reinase sobre su lógica, sin importar que tan cómodo y familiar se sintiera estar con él.

Pero el hombre no se rinde, tampoco presiona, es tan solo un explorador que busca, con una atención dulce, un mapa para explorar el alrededor. Cosa de la que no puede negarse durante más tiempo ya que la hace sentir tan cómoda, como si ya hubiesen caminado ese camino, como si ya hubiesen tenido esa conversación.

El mar fue especialmente hermoso ese día, e incluso si una pizca de tristeza la inundó en la despedida, sabe que sus huellas no se borraran en la arena.

Y fue el destino quien murmuró, una vez sus contactos se intercambiaban, que estaban hechos para el otro.

No obstante, se limitó a seguir a su razón, sin importar cuánto su corazón comenzara a latir por el desconocido. Era una mujer cautelosa, precavida, no podía dar su alma sin estar segura de las cosas.

Entonces la venda fue cayendo lentamente sobre sus ojos.

La frecuencia con la que hablaban o se veían aumentaba con cada día, al grado que el sol comenzó a broncear la unión de sus manos, sus mejillas, daba un tono caramelo en esas delicadas mejillas, lo que provocaba un pulso desenfrenado debajo de su pecho, el cual trató de contener antes de un ataque; lo que se volvía complicado con los días. E incluso por más esfuerzo que colocara, sus barreras flaqueaban ante las caricias que le brindaba.

Suave, delicado, íntimo y seguro.

Tulio Triviño era un helado de fresa en pleno verano: refrescante y dulce.

Entonces el destino gritó con más fuerza, anunciando que no existen almas tan perfectas como las de ellos ahora.

Más lo niega, o trata de hacerlo.

Cindy Miraflores no es una mujer inocente, mucho menos ingenua. Sabe que el verano tiene un principio como un fin.

Pero queda ciega prontamente a mitad de verano.

Había comenzado como una pequeña duda, inspirada en su propia curiosidad, hasta ir aumentando en una serie de cuestiones en las que el contrario poseía la libertad de negarse a contestar; lo que no pasó. Triviño, sin ningún tipo de vergüenza o timidez, respondió cada una de sus dudas, confesando sus propios sentimientos, expresando ideas tan privadas que le hacen sentir como un confidente importante, narrando expectativas, sueños, placeres y miedos. Ninguna de sus palabras se intimidaba ante cada enfrentamiento amistoso, al grado que suena como poesía. Cada verso está tan bien formulado que es incapaz de sostener por más tiempo un suspiro.

La vida, compartida en una tarde que se vuelve anochecer, hace que todo se sienta relativamente fantástico.

No conocía a Tulio Triviño de antes, y de alguna forma, se sentía como si llevara toda su vida haciéndolo.

El mundo ya no necesitaba decirle que estaba, completa, y perdidamente, enamorada. Lo supo cuando lo besó, cuando la besó, cuando danzaron bajo la luna y Tulio compartió tanta sensibilidad, mostrando una diferencia ante el mundo que había conocido.

Es único, especial. Tulio era un hombre que no encontraba tragedia en ser frágil y delicado.

Cegada ante el amor, ignora las imperfecciones iniciales de un romance fugaz, lanzándose a sus brazos, creándose un espacio en su pecho, buscando un sitio en su corazón. En el cual cree estar cuando habla sobre él, sobre los dos, cuando sus palabras se vuelven discursos que compiten contra Zhang Jiuling. No era de sorprender que fuera un conductor de noticias de renombre, era un orador sorprendente; conocía como hablar, cuando ser tan vibrante o una brisa; sabía exactamente cómo hacer que sus palabras coincidieran con sus demostraciones físicas.

Se sentía amada, adorada, podía sentir el verano insertarse en su cuerpo como una segunda piel; con un amor cálido, fresco, que se siente misteriosamente joven y etéreo.

Entonces quedó sorda, incluso cuando se profesaba como la mejor oyente que alguna vez podría existir en la vida de su amado. Pasó por alto todas aquellas lagunas verbales.

Y era demasiado tarde para darse cuenta, el verano había concluido, y con ello, la despedida de la que nunca estuvo preparada.

Varias promesas se hicieron, palabras se marcaron al fuego, y su corazón se coló entre las maletas que él se llevó.

Y se fue, quedando solo el “adiós” que murmuró en sus labios.

Solo que Cindy había pérdido sus ojos y oídos, incapaz de recuperarlos, por lo que cada día sus sentimientos se fueron escribiendo en cartas, mensajes, cualquier señal que mantuviera viva la flama.

Entonces pasó: el reencuentro, el rechazo, las mentiras, las negaciones. Señales que debieron devolverle la cordura, el raciocinio. Lamentablemente no pasó, Tulio confesó saber su número, llevándola prácticamente en sus memorias, declarando frente a los testigos que sigue siendo el hombre que conoció en un día de playa.

Entonces lo perdonó, lo sostuvo, volvieron a fundirse entre caricias y sentimientos que solo ellos entenderían, como si hubieran repetido esa historia una tras otra vez. Lo que justificó cada uno de los tropiezos que el hombre egoísta cometió. Lo que la hizo apretar más la venda y tapar sus oídos.

Porque el destino había exclamado, con furia y esmero, que es algo que todos pasan. Opacando su voz que trataba de advertirle que esto quizás solo era ese terrible proverbio: yǒu yuán wú fèn.

Y ellos estaban hechos para estar juntos, él se lo había dicho, ella lo había sentido. Debía ser verdad.

Entonces los años pasan, ellos siguen, a veces en un período longevo sin verse, otros tanto parecen ser solo uno. Están llenos de altibajos, de malos ratos, de chispas electrizantes: son una relación real. O eso es en lo que se trata de convencer para esas alturas.

No importaba cuántas veces sostuviera su mano, no importaba cuántas veces lo besara, no importaba cuántas veces recorrieron el cuerpo ajeno con adoración. No importó. Ni siquiera todas esas veces en que le dijo que la quería; era una conversación vacía, un monólogo aprendido.

Eran palabras maravillosas, pero no son más que un guion en el que ambos quieren creer.

Solo que no pueden, al menos, él no puede.

Cindy lo había visto con los años, incluso si no desease admitirlo, Tulio era otro. Más no sabe cuál Tulio es el verdadero o el desconocido, ya que cuando él habla, cuando verdaderamente habla, sus ojos se iluminan, sus mejillas se tensan; la luna menguante incluso se posa en su rostro, dibujando la sonrisa que haría sonrojar a cualquier estrella. Es un cielo claro, radiante, una noche estrellada. Y es tan apasionado, tan ligero, tan libre.

El problema es que no recuerda haberlo visto nunca con ella.

Quizás al inicio lo hizo, quizás cuando hicieron formal su relación.

El problema es que los “quizás” nunca son una certeza. Mucho menos, cuando está segura de haber descubierto esas características cuando su pareja era quien no se percataba que se había deshecho de su propia fachada cuando su mejor amigo estaba cerca.

Había escuchado sobre él, tantas anécdotas del pasado que sería imposible de enumerar, había visto el orgullo que siente al presentarlo como una de sus relaciones más longevas, presumiendo de la genialidad contraria, yendo en contra del todo el egoísmo que lo caracteriza. Un desconocido, o quizás, la versión pura del mismo. No ha dejado de debatir en eso desde que le carcome la cabeza, especialmente, cuando no es el único en reflejar tales microexpresiones.

Juan Carlos Bodoque a su consideración era ruin, un mentiroso, indigno y sin una pizca de orgullo; no merecía su atención, más la obtuvo, porque conseguía lo que ella no hizo durante todo ese tiempo: a Tulio Triviño. No solamente a ese hombre encantador que sabe recitar las más dulces poesías, o hacer las más terribles humillaciones en algo dulce, sino al hombre que habla sin usar palabras, al que toca y te deja tatuada la piel con su roce, al hombre que no le importa dejar de lado, por un efímero segundo, su existencia para brindarle al otro todo lo que desea. Lo que sería injusto, si no fuera porque, de hecho, el apostador parece poner todo el juego sobre la mesa y él se abalanza, a su vez, en darle lo poco que tiene.

Y duele, duele increíblemente cuando escuchas y ves todo lo que no has deseado en la vida, ver que los intentos son solo eso, fracasos.

Porque sin importar cuánto se esfuerce, nunca tienen esas pequeñas conversaciones tan profundas. Nunca conversan con la mirada. Nunca hablan. No como quisiera. Y desearía tanto poder estar en su lugar, desearía poder tener el privilegio que la entidad arrogante desprecia por el miedo natural a ser iluminado por un astro tan intenso, a ser amado, querido de verdad.

Y tuvo que admitir que comprendía ese miedo, porque ella también estaba horrorizada de lo mucho que estuvo, y está, enamorada. Porque se siente como una vitalidad que en esos instantes la está matando.

Deseaba gritar, gritarles, reclamar a todo pulmón a Juan Carlos qué le daba derecho a ser la persona que Tulio escogió, a pesar de que este mismo no era consciente de ello. Qué le daba derecho de ser acreedor de sentimientos que no parece querer consigo.

Anhelaba tanto poder exigir que dejara ir a Tulio si él no podía quererlo como ella lo hacía.

Más no puede y acalla, escuchando con mayor cuidado, desenredando los mensajes inconscientes; sobreviviendo a sus pequeñas conversaciones en las que suplica, en el fondo, ser la razón por la que existen.

Lamentablemente nunca lo será. Ya lo aceptó. O al menos eso trata de hacer.

Sigue siendo doloroso, una atrocidad tener que verles, especialmente ahora que su amor es libre de ella pero encadenado a esa bestia que se suaviza con el toque de la margarita. Y desearía odiar a Tulio, desearía poder incriminarlo por darle esperanzas…lo que, definitivamente, no es enteramente su culpa. Ella inició con esa idea, él había rehuido de eso apenas tuvo la oportunidad. Luego cuando ambos se encontraron, creyeron, más ingenuamente de su parte, que lo suyo tendría salvación.

Solo que es imposible salvar algo que estaba extinguido.

Es cruel, insensible y un antagonista completo. Más no puede manchar su imagen por más que quiera.

Sigue enamorada de sus pláticas, de sus palabras, de la pasión que hay tras cada oración; ama a Tulio, incluso si todo lo que dice nunca será para sí. Lo ama aún cuando duela; porque su corazón quebradizo aún palpita fuertemente por él.

¿Pero qué más quedaba?

El Tulio que ama no existe, no existió, ni existirá.

Solo es un recuerdo de ese verano del que nunca se va a recuperar en totalidad.

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-

Datos:

Zhang Jiuling: fue un ministro destacado, destacado poeta y erudito de la dinastía Tang Yǒu yuán wú fèn: significa 'Tener destino sin destino', es utilizado a veces para describir a las parejas que se encuentran, pero no pueden permanecer juntos.

#fanfic #one shot #31 minutos #tulio triviño #juan carlos bodoque #cindy miraflores #light angst #tudoque #redtie #unrequited romance #new version

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