Fics like every now and then I get a little bit lonely

“I’m in Madrid.” No unnecessary embellishments. No hello, no sorry to call you so late, no how are you doing. There’s a beat of silence on the other end of the line, as if Marc is taking a while to process what Valentino is implying, and he knows, he knows he isn’t supposed to call, that’s not how it works between them anymore, but. It’s late, he’s tired, he’s in Madrid. Too soon, maybe. Soon enough to turn the medicine into poison – not something Valentino can afford, considering the state of things. Being here is the same as admitting defeat, to some extent. Showing his soft underbelly to the very person who won’t hesitate to use his vulnerability against him. And yet. Perhaps Marc is also the only person that could – maybe not understand, but something akin to it. Or perhaps it’s just that Valentino is irredeemably fucked, in more ways than one. Following his non-consensual farewell to WEC, Valentino needs a place where to bury his head under the sand. Madrid looks like a palatable option, considering that a certain Marc Marquez lives there...

Fics like every now and then I get a little bit lonely

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