Missing Pieces (Sebastian Vettel)

9. Solitude

A/N: Trigger warning ⚠️ This chapter contain scenes that some readers may find upsetting.

November 2024

Seb pulled the zip up on his leather jacket, then wrapped his burgundy scarf around his neck, tucking it in at his collar. Opening the front door, he stepped outside into the crisp Autumn air.

November had just arrived, and already the leaves on the numerous trees surrounding his property had turned brown, yellow and red, preparing to fall to the ground before the winter came.

After locking the door behind him he walked over to the black and silver Triumph motorcycle that was parked next to his blue Alfa Romeo Stelvio. He picked up the plain black crash helmet that was resting on top of it and put it on. He threw his leg over it and made himself comfortable.

He was about to start the engine up when he heard his phone ringing in his pocket. Sighing, he took it out and glanced at the screen. It was Rocky again. His old engineer had either texted him or tried calling him every day for the last eight days. He hadn't replied. He didn't want to talk about some kid, some new hope for Red Bull's future. He was done with racing. He wanted nothing to do with it. He'd tried when he'd driven Senna's McLaren at Imola months before, but it hadn't felt the same.   All he wanted was to be left alone.

Rejecting Rocky's call, he shoved the phone back into his pocket before pulling his gloves on and flipping his visor down, then starting his motorbike up.   He pulled away down the driveway, the gates opening automatically when he activated the sensor. 

He slowly made his way down the small lane that led to the main road.  Once on the main road he accelerated until he was going a good ten kilometres an hour over the 80 km limit.

Several minutes later he brought the bike to a stop outside a small village shop.  He climbed off of the bike and removed his helmet and his gloves. He shoved the gloves into his helmet, and carrying it in one hand made his way over to the small old fashioned cottage that housed the shop. 

A small bell above the door jingled as he pushed it open and stepped inside, relieved to see he was the only customer. 

"Sebastian!" exclaimed the old man behind the counter.   "It's been far too long.  How are you?" Seb smiled at the man.   He'd known Wilfred for a long time.  

"Getting by Wilf.  How are you?" he asked. "How's Gretchen?"

"She's not been too well. Her arthritis is playing up."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Give her my love."

"I will. That will cheer her up.  She misses you."

Seb smiled wistfully.   There had been a time when he'd regularly come to the shop to buy Gretchen's homemade banana bread.  Now he only came here a couple of times a year. 

He walked around the small shop, looking at what was on the old wooden shelves. There was no banana bread anymore, but Seb didn't care.  He hadn't come for the banana bread.  

As he reached the back of the shop he saw what he had come for.  He picked up a bouquet of yellow roses and took it back to the counter at the front of the shop.  Wilfred smiled at him.

"For your wife?" Seb nodded.  Yellow roses were Nora's favourite.   They always had been.

With shaky hands, Wilfred rang the flowers up on the till.  Seb pulled a fifty euro note out of his jacket pocket and gave it to him.

"Keep the change. Buy Gretchen something nice," he said.   Wilfred thanked him but Seb was already heading out of the door. 

Putting his helmet on the ground, he slipped the bouquet into one of his saddlebags, hoping it would stay safe there.   Maybe he should have brought the car.   He usually did, but he hadn't taken the bike out for a while and he'd felt like it when he'd woken that morning.