Formula 1 One Shots [REQUESTS CLOSED]

Make It To Christmas - Franco Colapinto (1)

The soft snowflakes, each of them an original created with love, were falling down as if two cheeky angels were playing the pillow battle. The visibility was not going to be ideal. Y/N could tell it was windier than yesterday. In her head, she was already calculating whether or not two clicks to the left would be enough. It should, although the wind was a bit unpredictable to judge perfectly.

Y/N looked around, the starting grid being a mosaic of colourful jerseys representing the diversity of nations competing today. Ingrid Landmark Tandrevold, the championship leader wearing a bright yellow bib with a number two, passed her by, making it to the first row. Y/N smoothed her own with 10 on it. Then, she went on to check if her skies and poles were well prepared.

It was a shame she missed the very last target in the sprint and had to do one penalty loop. It cost her a possible podium finish. Maybe it was impatience, maybe the lack of experience, as this was Y/N's only second season among the adults. On the other hand, she had a great starting position in this pursuit. With the field not having big margins and weather gods playing Russian roulette today, anything could happen.

There was extra motivation that was fueling Y/N in this race, and that was anger. This morning, she had yet another fight with her boyfriend, Franco. After two years under one warm and wonderful blanket, their relationship hit freezing point. They were like icicles hanging by a thread. Y/N had to close her eyes when a memory of their recent argument made her blood violently boil.

"Ciao nonna, come stai? Beh sì, un po' nervosa, come prima di ogni gara. È normale. Cosa? Sì, certo, andremo con Franco questo Natale per visitarli. No, tutto è bene mentre noi, non preoccuparti. Non vedo l'ora di vederli. Va bene, ti voglio bene, ciao!"

"Let me guess, your grandmother is inviting us to her cottage," Franco, sitting on the bed with his phone, asked as soon as Y/N finished the call. She kept silent, confirming Franco's theory, "I hope you told her that you'll arrive on your own this year," Y/N didn't answer, preparing her overall and all the equipment for the race, "Y/N, we talked about this-"

"I know!" She interrupted him, harshly turning around to face him, "but...can't we just wait with our break? Try to make it to Christmas? Nonna likes you and she is so excited, it would break her heart. It's her favourite time of the year...and mine as well. We've already been pretending for a while, I think we can hold on for a few more days."

"Talk for yourself," Franco grunted, not bothering to look at his girlfriend. Their love used to be wonderful, the one for the pages. The stars of tomorrow. A future Formula 1 champion and a future gold medalist in biathlon. A king of wheels and a queen of snow. Hot and cold. A 'power couple', as some media outlets loved to call them. But everyone saw only what they let see: the beauty and the fairy tales.

"Listen, I made a lot of mistakes and you have every right to be mad at me," Y/N sat at the edge of the bed and Franco finally looked her in the eyes," but please, don't have me spend this Christmas alone. Then, you can do whatever you please, I won't hold you back." As time went by, the ice started to melt, showing their different life philosophies. Their demanding careers were also a significant hindrance. Snowdrifts were suddenly too deep to walk in. They could feel that someone would have to cut off the rope, but neither of them was brave enough, hanging above the abyss.

"You won't be alone. You'll be with your family," the way he was talking to her, it was like someone took Y/N's rifle and used her heart as a target. The love they used to be drunk on, once sweet and spicy like a mulled wine, was suddenly burnt like gingerbread in a careless minute of inattention.

"Can you imagine how it will be? What will I tell my dad when he asks why there is an empty chair? Lie and say you got sick? Or tell the truth and hear the never-ending carousel of 'I told you so' from my mother?"