La dernière danse

Where we all cry

"So, Bo, any chance you're willing to share the Alpha Tauri strategies with us?" Esteban Ocon smilingly turns towards me, knowing I'm Pierre's best friend. "Esteban, mon ami, she'd have to understand those in order to be able to tell you guys anything." Before I even get the chance to react, an annoying bitchface known as Pierre Gasly answers for me. "You really are an asshole, aren't you? JJ?" Ever since I found out the initials of Pierre's middle name were JJ. I've used it as a new nickname. Well, at least until I find out what his real middle name is. He doesn't want to tell me, the idiot. 

"Oh shut up Julia, it's not like you didn't know that before.." The Frenchman is positioned with Kika's head on his shoulder and his legs in my lap. I'm going to be honest if it wasn't Pierre I'd probably kick them off my lap instantly, but the blonde somehow managed to win me over when we were younger and stuck with me ever since.

"Pasta pesto for miss Bo Wolff?" A familiar accent sounds from behind me. Indicating Charles was back with food. "Thank you Charlie. Although this is very unnecessary since I'm not hungry.." I'm still trying to get him to change his mind, but it's pointless. "You haven't eaten anything since what? 10 am? Absolutely not. You're going to eat your food." Charles pushes the food into my hands, giving me a stern look. "I'm really not hungry Charles.." I plead, trying to get him to leave the food. "You have to eat something Ju." He's trying to be strict, to get me to eat the food, but his eyes betray him. He hates this forcing things on me act. "Half of it?" I'm not going to eat all of it, and I know he's not going to make me. "Alright. But at least half of it okay?" I nod in agreement, taking the fork he gives me, before Charles puts his arm over my chair again.

"Charles, you are so easy to give in mate." Pierre, who had watched our whole conversation, shakes his head smilingly. I give him a middle finger and lean towards Charles chest without really realizing it. When my head meets his chest, the arm he previously placed on my chair moves to my leg, drawing little circles. "It's not because you choose to force me to eat every single time, others do it too Pierre." I give him a stern look, which he completely disregards. "Well, dear Bo Wolff. If you wouldn't refuse your food, or simply forget you quite literally function on food every single time I see you, I wouldn't have to force you." I send a glare to the frenchman. "I can't help the fact I'm not hungry most of the time??" Pierre and I both know damn well that's not the real reason I refuse to eat. I might be forgetful sometimes, but the frenchman had soon realized there was something else going on. 

"Just eat the food Jules.." 

I freeze at the name. No one has called me that in years. My eyes instantly shoot up to meet Pierre's blue ones, both recalling the painfully sweet memories the nickname holds. Jules Bianchi was one of the drivers who was like a brother to me, playing hide and seek on the track whenever there was the slightest gap in his very full agenda, dancing with six year old me,... Needless to say he meant a lot to me. 

When the crash happened, I was at the track, watching from the garage. My dad had covered my eyes as soon as Jules crashed, telling me a driver had lost control over the car. Afterwards I was told said driver had been Jules, ever since I'd spent every moment I could at the Bianchi's, next to Jules while he was in coma. Every minute I could spare was spent next to Jules, taking the train from Monaco to Nice as soon as I got out of school. Then, nine months later they told the world we'd lost Jules. I was devastated, as were Pierre and Charles.. Oh god Charles. 

The thought instantly snaps me back to reality. Pierre's eyes are glossy, I feel claustrophobic in the gigantic room and Charles is picking his nails with shaky hands. It seems like no one else had noticed the shift in conversation between the three of us, so no heads turned when I told the two men I needed their help with something. 

"Bo I'm so sorry I don't know why it just slipped ou-" The second we're out of the room Pierre starts apologizing for using the nickname. "Pierre, Pierre!" I finally get his attention. "Calm down, it's okay, it's not your fault, breathe." I pull the blonde boy into a hug, before tears roll down my cheeks. When we let go I'm pulled into another hug, this time by Charles. He's holding onto me as if I could vanish any second. His face is buried in my neck, arms tightly wrapped around my waist. His tears had been streaming down his cheeks before he hugged me, but seem like they're not going to stop anytime soon. We stood there for a solid five minutes, joined by Pierre after one. The three of us, barely adults, nonetheless thrown in situations we shouldn't yet have to handle. I leave the two boys in each others much needed company as I myself sit down against the wall, closing my eyes for a few seconds.