CHAMPION ; arlecchino

017

[🏁🏁🏁🏁🏁🏁🏁🏁🏁🏁]

Lap 17:

The love that bounds us.

[⚙️⚙️⚙️⚙️⚙️]

❝ Satellite, shine on me tonight,
I will be your gravity, I will stay and never leave. ❞

[⚙️⚙️⚙️⚙️⚙️]

[!] paralysis, abuse of alcohol
- A little bittersweet
- Arlecchino and her bis are home !!
- I want Clorinde next (carnally? lmao)

You don't move much. The weight of Amber's words anchor you down. There's a gloomy expression on your face. Jean, Lisa and Klee had already left to get back to their hometown, so you're alone with your thoughts in the paddock now. You inch yourself forwards and off of the chair after a while, finally standing up.

Now you realize, you hate Arlecchino. — No... you don't hate her. Rather, you hate the fact that she was dishonest with you. What you hate is not her as a person, but what actions she had done.

Maybe she's just like all the others. You think, walking out of the Mercedes paddock and along the pit lane — that's empty since it was getting quite late. It's uninteresting anyway.

You spot Furina not too far away and decide to walk over to her. She's kneeling, or rather crouching down in front of the podium step with the trophy on said-step and the red helmet in between her hands. You take a few cautious and silent steps towards her. She doesn't move, and her eyes are closed, like a state of deep repose.

"Hey." You whisper, pausing as she stands up slowly. "How are you feeling ?"

Furina's deep blue eyes open and she glances back at you; "Ah, it's you."

Her voice doesn't carry the usual confidence she possesses. This time, it sounds softer to your ears. It's as if she had let her guard down. This time, you knew that you were facing Furina. The real one. The unveiled woman, and not simply the person she was for the media.

Maybe talking to Furina is a better idea in the end... You sigh internally, chewing on the inside of your lip. You're in denial. You don't want to believe that Arlecchino Di Knave wasn't perfect. You refused to think that the person you were starting to feel interested in was such a... letdown. And you couldn't seem to shake the feeling somehow. She seems kinder and more of an honest person than her.

You look back into her eyes once more. They're pretty, despite the sorrow visible in her irises. A little moist, shining with a tear; past or present it was. The freckles upon her face are light, like a constellation of stardust dancing in the skies.