if you write for them 9. things you said when i was crying for beznaia
Mandalika 2023, Sunday Night.
His left hand playing with the bedroom access card, Pecco uses his right hand to refresh his text thread with Bezz, very aware that this is not how things work and he’s not going to have an answer appearing to him like this.
It’s not unusual for Bezz to forget about the existence of his phone but given his current condition, Pecco couldn’t help but worry. He hadn’t managed to catch up with Bezz after the race but he knew the heat and the distance must have taken a toll on his collarbone.
Pecco looks at the slim piece of plastic that Bezz had placed in the back pocket of his jeans on Friday night after they shared an elevator ride after dinner, the words “I know the view in my room is better than yours, you should come check it out before we leave” liberated in the air between them like Bezz was simply talking about the weather before he disappeared from the elevator, getting out on his floor.
People always tell Pecco that he needs to learn how to turn his brain off, stop thinking so much, go for his instincts, don’t overthink so much. That’s what Pecco does as he pockets his phone and heads out of his bedroom to knock on another door two floors down.
“Bezz, it’s me,” Pecco tries when he hasn’t received an answer after rasping his knuckles against the door a bunch of times.
Any other person, any other time, Pecco would have taken that as a sign to leave.
Trust your instincts.
Pecco swipes the plastic card against the magnetic reader above the handle. The LED at the top of it goes green, mechanism of the lock making sounds that appear stupidly loud in the otherwise silent hall.
Pecco calls for Bezz as he walks in but he only needs to take two steps in the room to find him sitting at the top of his bed, left hand holding his right arm against his chest, his head bent down over himself.
“Pecco?” Bezz lifts his head and that’s when Pecco realizes that he’s crying, the red of his eyes an harsh contrast to how pale Bezz’s skin looks.
The short distance between them gets eaten up fastly and once he’s in front of Bezz, Pecco’s hands immediately want to reach out before he sees Bezz wincing in pain, his eyes blinking away a couple of new tears.
Pecco settles for a hand on Bezz’s nape that has Bezz slipping his eyes closed for a second.
“Hey, I’m here, it’s okay,” Pecco says quietly, his thumb drawing circles against Bezz’s skin while his brain tries to take in the situation.
“How did you get in?” Bezz asks after wiping his face with the palm of his hand.
“You gave me your key, remember?”
“Oh, right. Sorry. Did you try to reach me? I left my phone in my pants and I haven’t had the force to get it.”
Pecco winces. It’s been a long time since he has seen Bezz like this, years, even. He was there when Bezz injured himself at the ranch and he kept a brave face in front of everyone —they all do whenever they need to— but Pecco knows you can’t always win against pain.
“Nothing to apologize for,” Pecco says easily, now not the day to guilt trip Bezz because he made Pecco worry. Maybe later, when Bezz is back on his feet and the injury is far enough for them to be able to laugh about it. Not now. Now— “Marco, when’s the last time you took pain meds? Do you have some with you or do you need me to call someone?”
“Flavio gave me something after the race but I think it’s starting to wear off. He gave me another pill for tonight, it should be in my jacket.”
Pecco checks the watch on his wrist and does the quick math to figure out how long it’s been since the race ended. Then, he turns around, looks for bright yellow in the mess that is Bezz’s bedroom and find his jacket on the floor next to the foot of the bed.
He grabs a water bottle from the mini bar, opens it for Bezz, and takes the pill out from the foil paper before presenting both objects to Bezz who still grimaces as he uses his left hand to take the medication.
“Good,” Pecco says, his hand catching the water bottle again, capping it and setting it on the nearby bedside table. “Have you eaten?”
Bezz shrugs and immediately regrets the gesture, painful wince distorting his face and making Pecco wince in sympathy with him. “I had dinner with the team. Wasn’t very hungry, though.”
Pecco frowns. He’s more surprised by the admission than the fact itself. “Okay,” he nods carefully, thinking about the next step here.
There is a small part of him that wants to call for someone else, someone more competent than him that will for sure know how to make sure that Bezz is fine. And then there is the part of him that knows that’s not what Bezz wants and the part of him that wants to do this for him, all on his own.
Pecco picks up the bedroom phone from the bedside table.
“Hello, I’m in room 307. Would it be possible to get a bag of ice, please?”
Pecco feels a tug on his t-shirt and when he looks down, he finds Bezz’s fingers fiddling with the hem of his shirt. Pecco smiles, puts his free hand on Bezz’s forearm.
“You have food options, right? What about sandwiches? Okay, yes, I’ll have the chicken one please. And a side of fries. Thank you.”
Bezz frowns at him and Pecco rubs his thumb against Bezz’s skin. It’s not the most nutritive of food and it's not a piadina but it’s something Bezz can easily munch on now and something he can eat cold later if his appetite comes back.
“You’ve won from the 5th row and you’ve taken the lead of the championship back, you should be out celebrating,” Bezz says once Pecco has hung up and pocketed his phone again after texting the handful of people that were expecting him to go out.
Bezz’s head is still leaning against the headboard and he looks so pale, Pecco wishes he could put some colors back into his skin.
As things stand, Pecco lifts his hand to Bezz’s face, pushes some curls away from his forehead and uses his thumb to wipes away some leftover tears. “It’s okay, I’d rather be here.”
Was Pecco in the mood to release some tension after how intense and mentally draining this weekend in Mandalika had been? Yes. Could he party without Bezz if Bezz wasn’t available? Sure. Did he want to when he knew Bezz was in this condition? Absolutely not.
Pecco remembers the days after Barcelona, how Bezz had called for Pecco’s physio when Pecco woke up in excruciating pain, unable to get out of bed. He thinks about Bezz bringing him stuff so he wouldn’t have to move and continuously offering Pecco his arm or his shoulder when his crutch wasn’t there.
Bezz had said “It’s okay, Pecchino, you’ll repay me later” with his usual laugh showing all of his teeth and Pecco had smiled back, some heat pooling on his cheeks and at the pit of his stomach.
“Oh,” Bezz muses. “Okay.” Pecco lifts his thumb to smooth the creased lines between Bezz’s brows. In answer, he gets tugged to the bed after Bezz’s hand has grabbed on his belt loops and Pecco stumbles a little, catching himself on Bezz’s thigh, avoiding his chest and the arm he’s still cradling there. “If we find the good position, I might be able to give you a decent celebratory BJ.”
Pecco feels very hot and then very cold, the sensations sobering even if he hasn't had a drop of alcohol. A stupid noise escapes his mouth. “If you injure yourself more because of sex, I’ll kill you.”
What Bezz does with other people is the last thing Pecco wants to think about right now. The concept of Bezz thinking an orgasm or two are the only reasons Pecco came tonight? Definitely makes Pecco feel a little sick.
“I only came for the view, remember?” He tries, conscious that his joke is going to fall flat the moment the words leave his mouth.
Pecco can hear the fingers on his waist fall back down on the mattress right before there is a knock on the door.
Follow your instincts.
Pecco leans down to press a kiss to Bezz’s forehead before turning around to get the door.
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