#a brocedes melt down

[lecilly]

i saw this one video of lewis speaking an entire sentence in italian and i got reminded of this..

seriously what the fuck is wrong with them????

like, what kind of italian did nico teach him? why do they consistently sound so gay?

"this is a family show" really??? someone please play 'talk dirty' by jason derulo because nico taught him only dirty words for sure ✨

[sionisjaune]

Post Australia emotionally fraught brocedes phone sex set loosely in the dirty valentine verse for @blorbocedes who has been bothering me about teasing brocedes and not following through:

“Hey,” Lewis gasped into the phone. He felt the way his throat was raw, chafed-at by his own breath. “I didn’t think you’d pick up.”

Nico snorted. Lewis imagined him combing his fingers through his hair, holding his phone between ear and shoulder and rolling his eyes. “I have the broadcast on,” Nico said. “What a shit show. Where are you?”

Lewis glanced side to side, as if he should verify where he was. The cold walls of his driver’s room greeted him.

“Driver’s room,” said Lewis. He could still hear the sound of his engine failing. He’d had a bad premonition since free practice.

Nico clicked his tongue. “Good,” he said. “I want you to touch yourself.”

Lewis pulled the phone away from his ear, shocked. He replaced it, cupping it gently with one hand against his ear. “We’re not—“ said Lewis. He and Nico hadn’t spoken in a handful of weeks, Lewis busy with the foundation and the team and next year’s team and Nico jetting across Europe doing whatever he did.

“We can,” said Nico. “If I were there, I would fuck you right now. Let’s pretend I’m there. Do you remember Qatar?” Nico’s voice twisted slyly. Of course Lewis remembered Qatar. He remembered his leg draped over Nico’s shoulder, splayed open on the massage table inside the hospitality, Nico rushing to dress afterwards so he could run back to the Sky box in time for the post-race press.

“You do,” said Nico. “Lewis, touch yourself.”

Lewis slipped a shaky hand down his body and cupped himself through the thin material of his fireproofs.

“Are you doing it?” said Nico. “I think you are.” He was nearly purring through the phone now. Lewis performed a mental calculation and ascertained that, in Ibiza, Nico must be awake at an absurd hour in order to take Lewis’s call. Lewis pictured him standing on the back porch, leaning against a bleached wood rail and gazing onto the beach, his phone glowing beside him.

“Slowly, at first,” Nico instructed, and Lewis listened despite himself, his eyes fluttering shut and the white walls of his driver’s room melting away as he massaged his dick through his fireproofs. He heard the sharp intake of breath when Nico paused. “You’re trying to deny yourself,” said Nico. He laughed flatly. “Take your clothes off. I know you don’t want to enjoy this, but I’m going to make you. Sit up.” Lewis shifted his phone to the other side and lifted himself off his back. He shimmied his fireproofs down his hips and pulled them off. “Shirt too,” said Nico through the phone, as if he could see Lewis. “Now lie back down,” Nico insisted.

Lewis flattened himself back on top of the sofa, completely naked, his thighs splaying. His hard cock flopped against his thigh, thick with blood. He wrapped a hand around it and bit down on a groan.

“Good,” said Nico. “At least you’ll get something good out of today. At least you won’t—“ Nico paused. Lewis knew that pause—the diabolical silence when Nico was planning some scheme to catch Lewis off guard. “At least you can’t fuck this up.”

Lewis’s lungs seized, and simultaneously, a disorienting wave of arousal coursed through him. He squeezed the base of his dick instinctually, his hips arching off the bed.

“No,” he pleaded.

Nico seemed to hesitate before speaking. “Oh, I think so. I think you’ve been underperforming. But you can perform for me right here, right now. I want to hear you get yourself off.”

“Fuck you,” said Lewis, stripping his dick, eyes squeezed shut.

“You wish I would,” said Nico, bored. If he had a landline, he’d be twisting the cord around his phone. Instead he was probably sleek and wireless and holding a giant iPhone to his ear, expressionless. “You want someone else to take charge. You want your life to stop being on you. But you have to do it yourself now. Come on, Lewis.”

Lewis rubbed his thumb under the head, teetering on the precipice of a toe-curling orgasm.

“Do this for me,” Nico murmured. “Make up for the boring fucking race I had to watch. I pay to see Lewis fucking Hamilton, but I didn’t see him on track today.”

“Not my—“ Lewis groaned, jerking himself ruthlessly. “Fault—“ he said. His back arched when he came all over his stomach, ropes of come painting his abdomen. Silence followed over the phone while Lewis panted. He didn’t think Nico was ever trying to get off, was probably just high-handedly directing Lewis’s orgasm before breakfast. Lewis tried to imagine a younger Nico that Lewis would have actually listened to. At that time, he would have been more inclined to throw Nico around himself and make him follow Lewis’s commands.

“Was that,” said Nico, “okay?”

A thick exhale escapes Lewis’s mouth. “That was fucked,” he said.

“No kidding,” said Nico. Lewis noticed that he grew laconic when he was unsure of himself.

“You know it was just a mechanical error,” said Lewis.

Nico clicked his tongue again. Lewis could picture him rolling his eyes. “Of course I fucking know. But it doesn’t fit with the ‘you fuck yourself to make up for your shit performance on track’ narrative I was building.”

“Of course not,” said Lewis, growing aware that he was completely naked in his driver’s room, his own come all over his stomach, and Nico’s voice on speakerphone while the race still raged outside. “Hey. Are you going to be staying in Ibiza for a few more days?”

“I can,” said Nico slowly.

“I’ll… stop by,” said Lewis.

“I’m working in China,” said Nico.

“China,” said Lewis.

“I’ll be there,” Nico clarified, sounding impatient.

“That’s not for—“ said Lewis.

“Four weeks,” Nico finished.

“I’m booking a flight for tomorrow,” said Lewis. He was already swiping through his phone, messaging one of the assistants to find him a flight to Ibiza that worked with his schedule at the factory.

Nico sighed. “Should I prepare to get back what I gave today? You might have to warm me up first. I haven’t—”

“See you,” said Lewis

[gokartkid]

3 brocedes?

carefully negotiated

“I want the flat in Budapest then,” Nico said, hands reaching for the piles of paperwork to deftly extract the sales agreement, “if you’re taking the one in Spain.”

“Sure.” 

Lewis was trying his best to be agreeable, leant purposefully back on the sofa. His therapist had told him that he often defaulted to having closed off body language in difficult conversations. It was perfectly normal, but it made him all too aware of his limbs; open shoulders, legs not crossed, hands loose. 

He had few demands for this meeting: the apartment in Spain, the house in California, two of the Mercedes-Benz cars. Simple things. He was trying to not be so materialistic these days. 

The rest was up to Nico. 

Everything about their negotiations felt like stepping carefully on ice that was cracking just under the surface. 

This meeting even, hosted in their London flat which they shared but just barely. It was as close to neutral territory as they could get, this grey, not lived in apartment that was still filled with the styling from the original real estate company. There were only hints of either of them inside, a dog bed for Roscoe, two almost new toothbrushes sitting intertwined on the bathroom countertop, bedside tables with miscellaneous rubbish in the drawers. 

“And of course,” Nico paused here, glancing up at Lewis and then away again, “there’s Monaco.”

Monaco. It did all lead back there in the end. 

Lewis could still remember the first time Nico had invited him there with his family, trying not to look starstruck as Keke hosted his famous friends, leaning over the balcony to stare at the Formula 1 cars as they raced around the narrow streets. Golden sun-kissed memories melting on his tongue, Nico’s sweaty palm against his, kissing under the warm cover of night with clumsy mouths. 

“You can have Monaco.”

Nico startled, visibly. That was extreme for him. His hands seemed to flutter for a moment before resettling, white doves on a parapet. 

“Monaco? Really?”

Lewis shrugged. 

“Have it man.”

Nico was staring at him unabashedly, his perfect brow furrowed. He had the same snooty tilt to his mouth that he’d had since the day Lewis met him. He could almost sense Nico’s brain turning itself over, twisting itself into knots to try to understand him. 

There had been a point in time where he’d hated Nico’s examination of him just as much as he’d enjoyed it. It was strange to realise now, as he stared back at him, all pale eyes and tight mouthed, that his stomach wasn’t twisting. In fact, there was nothing at all.

“You love Monaco.”

Nico said it like it was a fact, like it was one of the fundamental truths he knew about him: Lewis loved Roscoe, Lewis drove Formula 1 cars, Lewis loved Monaco.

It was drizzling outside, fat sporadic grey circles beginning to fill up the sidewalk. He watched as there was a flurry of umbrellas raised, people ducking under cover, hurrying to their next appointments.

“Jeez,” he tried to laugh it off; it didn’t land quite right in the stifling silence of the room, “as if there aren’t places going all the time. It isn’t that serious man.”

The Monaco apartment had the most of the both of them. They’d spend days lounging in the sun on the couch watching something stupid on the TV, sipping coffee on the balcony, Nico’s bony ankles twining around his as he read loudly from the newspaper. Lewis had felt comfortable there, like he hadn’t in a lot of places in a long time. It was hard to settle in a job that took you around the world almost every week.

Nico reached for the pile of papers once more, fingers skimming down until he pulled at the particular folder. He paused, looking back at Lewis. He had a strange unreadable look on his face. A year ago Lewis might’ve known what he was thinking. 

“You’re sure?”

For the first time in this whole endeavour, Lewis let himself feel just the slightest bit annoyed. He knew what he was doing. 

“Yeah. I’m sure.” 

[milflewis]

brocedes and 50 (out of love)…. :’)

[50: out of love]

Lewis leans against the wall, eyes closed, and slides down until he’s sitting on the floor, shoulders squeezed in between the legs of his massage table and the side panelling of his half open wardrobe. He presses his head back against the wall until it aches dully, feet flat on the carpet.

He breathes. He just needs a few minutes before the post race briefing. His shirt sticks to his back with shower water and the residue of champagne.

His music is loud enough, and his noise cancelling headphones are good enough, that most of the sounds of celebrations outside are muffled. He should be out there.

He stuck around for the podium and some pictures after and before and he’ll go back out — he will. He will. He just needs.

He needs a minute.

He doesn’t realise that he left the door unlocked until there’s a cold nose pushing at his hand. He flexed his fingers, knuckles sore and stiff. He blinks.

Enni blinks back up at him, the sight of the Artic Fox as familiar as Alejandra, who is watching them from under the table. The jaguar can just barely fit. Lewis can’t remember the last time he’s seen them with each other. Somehow, the thought is worse thing to happen today.

He tugs his headphones down.

“Lewis,” is all she says, and curls up next to him. She radiates very little heat, as tiny as she is, small chest rising and falling against Lewis’s forearm. When Lewis won his first title, she curled up and around the back of his neck, tail hanging down, and stayed there the whole night, even when Nico disappeared with Mark intermittently.

He runs careful fingers down over her head, circling the shape of her ear. She pushes back up into it. Ale stirs, barely just arching her back and settling back down, eyes yellow and glowing in the shadows, the rest of her near invisible, fur melting into the dark black. Lewis sends her a look. She only blinks defiantly back at him.

“He loves you,” Enni says, and Lewis hums. Nico and his problem was never one of love; not a lack nor overindulgence.

“He will leave.”

She doesn’t flinch. It is no surprise to anyone who knows Nico, even if Lewis doesn’t know if Nico himself even knows he’s going to yet.

There’s a messily handmade tiny collar tied loosely around her neck, interwoven strings of soft colours. Lewis was there when Nico’s kids presented it to her. He helped them tie it on. Vivian had laughed, delighted, hair tucked behind her ears.

“I can’t forgive him,” Lewis says, quiet and tired and heartsore. He considers this for a moment. “I won’t.”

“That’s part of why he’s leaving,” she insists, curling in closer. He drags a hand gently down his back, smoothening her snow white fur.

“Maybe.” Lewis watches Alejandra. “And that’s just something else I can’t — won’t — forgive him for.”

Enni doesn’t understand it. She might never will. She is, fundamentally, an extension of Nico’s soul and Lewis knows, this will probably never be something that Nico will understand. Will scoff and roll his eyes and tell Lewis to stop being so dramatic and it’s just racing and he does it with everyone. And that might be true — it honestly probably is — but he didn’t do it to everyone. He did it to Lewis. And Lewis let him.

Lewis went along with it. Lewis did it with him.

He slides down until he’s lying in his back, head turned so she’s up against his face. His nose brushes hers. He presses a kiss between her eyes, cheek warm on the top of her head. She growls lowly under him, bumping his throat and staying there.

“Take care of him,” Lewis says, the only thing he’s able to give her — and him — right now. “Take care of all of them.”

[singsweetmelodies]

can you imagine a piarles collection of fics based on Taylor swift song? like, each album is a collection and each fic is based on a song of that album???

like, when we have London boy but adapted so it would be ‘you know I love a Monaco boy’ because this one would be Pierre saying ‘I saw the dimples first and then I heard the accent’ just because it fits though I do think most of everything would be just Charles’ pov because he’s a dramatic bitch just like Taylor

one telling a summer fling they had but one of them fell and screaming at the other “I love you ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard?”

one telling the story of how they met and some stories in the middle until the “now” where Charles says “I like shinny things but I’d marry you in paper rings” and Pierre goes and buys him a ring shaped as a piece of newspaper and propose with it

THE ONE TELLING ABOUT ALL TOO WELL 10 MINUTES VERSION WOULD BE LIKE KNIVES IN MY HEART though definitely not the saddest, that would be tolerate it

and one where Pierre goes on about how they broke up because of *something* and then on a random day they meet again and Pierre tells him “if my wishes came true it would’ve been you” (they do not get back together though)

and when they have a *bad* break up and Pierre is talking shit (for the hell of it) with the press and Charles goes “I keep my side of the street clean but you wouldn’t know what I mean”

I am rambling so much but god I love this idea so much and like

I’m NOT here to kindly ask you to do it (REALLY, that would be waaaaaay too much), I was just procrastinating and I thought about it and I had to share this with someone so thank you for listening to my Ted talk 🫧

AHHHHH, sorry, i completely missed this one last night 🙈🙈 bloody tumblr... but oh my god, i absolutely love this idea! the amount of times i listen to a taylor swift song and just think "whoa my god... piarles au" is insane really. INSANE. so i absolutely adore you for this concept

and!! your SONG EXAMPLES omg 🥺🥺 i absolutely melted because yes yes yes London Boy is such a them song. i am particularly soft for this song + piarles, because i wrote a fic with a London Boy lyric for a title for them a little while ago. it's my Monaco vlog fic, and this one is very close to my heart for many reasons, but most especially because it always reminds me of my wonderful @leclerctops, @welightitup and @redyellowstupid, and the very START of our birthday fic surprise tradition 🥺🥺❤️💙💚 bless, the best memories, and all the love, really.

but enough sentimental nonsense! you know, i actually hadn't considered the "Monaco boy" dimples spin on it, but oh my god you are actually a genius. Pierre "I saw the dimples first and then I heard the accent" Gasly - LOVE LOVE LOVE IT!!

oh my god, and Cruel Summer - okay, so, this is actually an idea i wrote down in my personal discord server for fic ideas (lmao). i was listening to this song and my brain just went EXACTLY what yours did here: "piarles summer fling but they're idiots and they forgot to communicate." still obsessed with this concept ngl. (unfortunately it's not one i have any sort of time to write, but, oh well. it will live in my head like an unfinished melody 🙏)

AND PAPER RINGS!! your idea of pierre getting him an actual paper ring!! that is the cutest thing i've ever heard omg 🥺🥺 and he so WOULD!! these idiots in love... i adore them ❤️❤️

whoa my god, and all too well. ALL TOO WELL!! ngl that's always been more of a brocedes song for me, but that's just because i can't bear the thought of hurting my piarles babies like that 🙈🙈🥺 but if a piarles ATW fic was ever written... you are unquestionably right. that would be a knife to the heart.

and?? TOLERATE IT?? excuse me?? that would be the one to absolutely shatter us all, i agree. "i know my love should be celebrated but you tolerate it" EXCUSE ME?? no?? i could never do that to my beloveds. just. never 😭😭😭😭🥺🥺💔

(though, thinking about it... isn't "tolerate it" good for a sort of heartbreaking charles + ferrari character study? the true otp if you will... the beautiful agony of being a ferrari driver... AHHHH)

and. the 1?? THE 1 FOR PIARLES?? IF MY WISHES CAME TRUE IT WOULD'VE BEEN YOU?? you're right, that one couldn't have a happy ending, but... 😭😭💔💔💔 i could also never do that to them. MY POOR BABIES

hehehehe ngl the karma one made me CACKLE 🤭🤭 pierre ABSOLUTELY is the kind of petty bitch who would talk shit for the hell of it. just look at pierresteban, after all! and for piarles to have a bad breakup... HEARTBREAKING. but omg it would make for such a good character study! love this 👌

ahhhh omg, sorry, i got a bit carried away with this answer 🙈🙈 but come on. TAYLOR SWIFT + PIARLES?? two of my favourite favourite things?? it was never going to be any other way, come on. (in other words, ilysm for this, and thanks a load for sharing your FAB Ted talk/concept with me ❤️❤️ <333)

[lecilly]

hear me out i think i just found THE brocedes song, it is insane because it's literally them, like.. look at the lyrics?? hear me out.. i even colorcoded yellow for "it links to brocedes" and pink for "insanely accurate" 😭 but everything fits so well so read it all for your own well-being ✨

the "can't quit cause it is not in my nature" is so lewis coded 😭

the part "but power can also be blinding" is literally nico!!

[milflewis]

Ok, Valewis + ☕️. We all already know how you feel about them, but let's go

sob i think everyone and their mam knows how i feel about them but you’re right imma scream anyway

it’s the amount of time and energy and care that they put into their relationship. it’s valtteri coming into mercedes knowing he’s on a one year contract, knowing the garage is so divided, knowing in the way that every other driver on the grid last year knew what happened with nico and lewis but also didn’t know. it's lewis coming from the shitshow that was brocedes and not caring about val - that one this or that video where he was asked jenson or val and he went 'i dont care' to waxing poetry about valtteri whenever he gets the chance.

it’s val waiting on his car to congratulate lewis in silverstone. it's brazil 2021 and lewis saying to tell val that we can get them !! it's jeddah 2021 and val's 'i think me and lewis may be the best teammates in formula one' and the way val watches lewis when he's sitting down, exhausted, and asks if he's ok and gives him space. it’s lewis nearly missing the podium in baku 2018 to say sorry to val and tell him that the win should've been his.

it's 'in this picture, lewis was trying to kiss me, it was a really confusing moment' and 'this is an interesting picture because i wasn't sure if valtteri wanted to kiss me or not'. it’s writing love letters on main and zooming in on val’s face and posting this in front of your 23 million followers. it's 'he's the best teammate i've ever had'. it’s 'you’re greater than you know'. it’s the 'dream team. thank you lewis'. it’s val giving lewis aesthetic nudes of his bare ass in front of everyone and looking at him Like That bc they’re not like the other girls and they swap nudes as well as helmets. it's 'not that i don't already have something to remember you by'. it’s the way lewis is so careful about the space around him but will push into val’s space without even thinking about it and val will throw his arm around lewis and lewis won’t even blink. it’s the casual easiness. it's the being each other's safe space in this insane sport. it's the playing video games together during the delayed quali of the italian gp 2017 and lewis being a sore loser over val beating him. it's the way valtteri melts when lewis talks to him, goes all blushing and flustered and 🥰☺️. it's sharing flights. it's valtteri posting pictures of roscoe on his story and not lewis. it's the way they gravitate towards each other, even when they're not teammates. it's 'we're starting side by side, it's pretty cool. i just saw him and we were both smiling. it should be fun. if somebody had told me in bahrain we're going to be starting side by side with lewis, i'd take it'. it's 'valtteri has just been a great teammate'. it's 'when i can't win the title, i want lewis to win it'. it's years of hearing lewis sing and talk to himself through the motorhome walls. it's val saying that he told lewis he was a better driver than he was. it's lewis absolutely losing his shit and giggling so much he nearly falls off his chair while valtteri tries to explain why he knows exactly how long a beaver's dick is.

it is ofc the parallels and narrative foils of coffee being one of val’s greatest loves and one of the things lewis hates most in this world. it’s lewis ‘coffee doesn't taste good though does it’ hamilton and valtteri ‘i need to give you good coffee’ bottas and valewis 'we've had coffees between races travelled a lot together' like. shut the fuck up

send me a topic + ☕️ emoji and i’ll tell you my honest opinion about it

[sionisjaune]

today @blorbocedes-main and i discovered during this wip game that we are both entertaining a brocedes superpower au! in MINE most drivers have subtle psychic powers...lewis can see the future and nico can turn his emotions off at will (i don't really elaborate on this):

There are two kinds of futures, Lewis learns. Probable futures and certain futures. The only problem? You don’t know which is which. 

If Lewis sees a crash ahead, he doesn’t know that it’s real until he’s reeling from the shock, already in the wall. Doesn’t know that it’s only a possibility until he weaves left and narrowly avoids a five-kart pileup. 

So, Lewis learns, you can choose to change the future. But only sometimes. And then—is it even a choice at all?

-

Lewis watched Senna, the fastest man alive, on the television when he was eight years old. His dad sat on the couch, and Lewis sat on the carpet leaning back against his legs. He clutched his crash helmet, bright yellow, in his lap because he’d forgotten to put it away when he arrived back from the track.

The camera panned over the pitlane, mechanics spilling like insects from every garage, and landed on Senna. He was standing in the shade of his garage, head ducked down and speaking rapidly to the team boss. He was pointing to his helmet, gesturing passionately with one finger. Lewis wondered what he was saying. 

He elbowed his dad in the calf. “Why does he have to wear that?” Lewis asked.

“Everyone has to,” his dad explained. “It’s the regulation.” 

“No, the dampener. Senna can’t run in the car. How could he use his power to cheat?” 

“They say he can think faster, too. The FIA doesn’t want to take any chances. You know how often the teams protest.” 

Lewis crossed his arms, stared at the TV. Senna was tugging his race suit up his torso and fastening it at the neck. His helmet remained tucked under one arm. 

“Well, he wins anyway,” Lewis said sulkily. “It’s not like there’s a point.” 

His dad patted him on the head and then left his hand there, palm warm. “There are rules, sometimes, and you have to play by them,” Lewis’s dad said. “Otherwise, people complain.”

-

In the days of Senna and Prost and slim cars with open cockpits, the technology was in the helmet, some kind of rudimentary dampening field that wasn’t for the drivers or the mechanics to understand. Now it’s a millimeter-thick chip sewn into the collars of their race suits. It doesn’t feel like anything, really—Lewis just doesn’t get the visions. It’s better that way, actually. That way they don’t distract him. He doesn’t bleed tenths trying to figure out if they’re real. If they’re actually going to happen, or if they just might. 

-

They keep track of whose turn it is to tell the story. Nico tells it best, because he’s the one who didn’t believe it. 

“Did you ever picture this, the two of you in Formula 1, competing for race wins with the same team?” Jennie Gow asks them. She’s asked this question before, and she knows it, and Lewis and Nico know it, but it’s what the fans clamoring at the barriers want to hear. 

“It’s funny,” Nico says. He talks animatedly in that voluble, media-pleasing way he’s mastered. “In between karting championships, we took a trip to Greece. I can still remember talking about it then, fourteen years old. Lewis and I said that one day we would both make it to F1 and drive for the best team on the grid.” He shrugs, and Lewis smiles, lips pressed together, for Jennie Gow’s camera. “How many kids can say that? That their dreams came true?”

Lewis remembers it too. Except it wasn’t a dream, it was a certainty. 

-

The both of them were spread out on a towel on the cooling sand under the stars. The last vestiges of daylight were melting on the horizon, glimmering on the still water in a deep red spot. 

Lewis saw it, staring at the sky, Nico’s hand clutched in his. It came to him softly, a truth slipped into his head, notching into place like something he’s always known. He had turned his head, feeling the sand against his cheek, and Nico had turned too. 

“I’m gonna be in F1,” he told Nico. 

Nico scrunched his nose. “I don’t believe you.” 

“I saw it,” Lewis insisted, squeezing Nico’s palm. 

“What about me, huh?” Nico said, turning his nose back to the sky. “Did you see me?”

Lewis didn’t do it, back then, still doesn’t, but it’s possible for him to look further. It’s like peeling back a heavy curtain, straining to keep it open wide enough that what needs to be seen can be seen. For Nico, he would try to peek. 

On the beach, he squeezed his eyes shut and looked as hard as he could, until white spots flashed behind his eyes. 

The danger of looking was always what Lewis saw when he looked too far. The Nico in his mind’s eye was older, mouth twisted underneath a black and gold cap. Lewis knew he shouldn’t look further. 

“Well?” Nico said, poking him in the arm. “Do I make it too?” 

Lewis opened his eyes. Nico was looking at him, again. “You do.”

Nico smiled, slowly, joy unfolding across his face. Lewis wanted to kiss him, but Nico had already declared he was all out of kisses, rolling off of Lewis at the end of the afternoon. “I still don’t believe you, you know. I don’t think I’ll believe it until it happens or it doesn’t.”

-

“He didn’t believe me,” Lewis says to Jennie Gow. The PR team says that the gap between his front teeth is marketable, so he smiles wide. 

Nico pats him on the shoulder. “Still don’t. Unbelievable. Just unbelievable.” 

-

Lewis kissed a girl for the first time in Greece. He remembers tasting a trace of Vaseline on her lips, faint like it had been mostly licked off. When he pulled away, she was smiling, and the sea-salty air tossed the dark ends of her hair around her face like a storm cloud. He pulled away from her face and held her in his arms.

Sometimes the future came to him clearly, like a page read from a book, and sometimes it hit him like a knee to the gut, invading his sense of sight and overlaying his vision double-exposure style. It happened like that, punching the breath from his lungs.

He was on the beach, but he was also on another beach. The girl was in his arms, but so was Nico. Nico was staring at him, eyes wide, but the girl was smiling still. The sun was setting, but it was also bright midday. 

The vision faded like bath water spiralling down the drain. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, sheepish like his dad taught him. His arms slipped from around the girl’s waist. She was still smiling, probably because she didn’t speak much English, didn’t understand the importance of what Lewis was trying to tell her. Lewis didn’t either, at the time. 

Lewis turned away from the sea and ran down the coastline back to Keke’s boat, bare feet slapping the sand. He saw himself arriving before he was halfway there. 

-

The day everything ends, Nico asks, “Be honest with me, for once.” He paces the cooldown room, agitated. “Did you really see me, on the beach? Tell the truth, Lewis.” 

“I saw you,” Lewis says, twisting his fist around the neck of his water bottle.

Nico’s mouth twists, and he stalks over to the chairs and throws himself onto the cushion. Lewis knows, with an incurable certainty, what he would have seen if had looked any further, that night in Greece. He knows it’s coming before Nico throws it, but doesn’t move to catch the hat anyway. 

Later, Nico confronts him about it again. He’ll push any issue, poke at any soft spot, these days. Lewis doesn’t know what he turned off, but it must be whatever made him human, before. 

“You didn’t see me, did you?” Nico says, and he sounds hysterical. “You hate that I’m here, Lewis, don’t you, because you thought it was only going to be you. I fought to be here. You followed the fucking path you always do, already laid out, ten steps ahead of everyone else.”

“I saw you,” Lewis says, calm. I saw this, right now, he doesn’t say. “Get out of my trailer.”