midnight rain [f. colapinto]

s e v e n t y - s i x

The Brazilian Grand Prix weekend was finally beginning. Evita had been looking forward for this race for weeks. With the race being located so close to her home country, she knew there would be thousands of Argentine fans there to support Franco. There had been plenty in Austin and Mexico, but she anticipated that this would be next level.

Evita and Franco walked towards the paddock's main entrance. This was the first time they'd arrived together, and though they weren't keen on announcing their relationship to the whole world yet, avoiding each other on purpose so fans wouldn't make assumptions wasn't an option either.

The pair had to stop a few times so Franco could greet crowds of fans at the barriers outside the paddock and sign merchandise for them. This slowing down their progress to the point that they would almost be late, but Evita didn't mind. She loved that Franco was able to make connections with his fans at a track so close to his home, and she was willing to be a few minutes late if it meant he got to have those moments.

Evita crossed her arms loosely over her chest as she watched Franco talk to a family with two young children. He crouched in front of them, talking animatedly as he signed the older child's football jersey. The way he spoke to them made Evita wonder what had taken her so long to see the real Franco. She'd seen him as cocky and arrogant, when he'd been clearly the opposite, and she'd been too blinded by the past to see it.

Once Franco was finished chatting, they moved on. Franco continued smiling and waving at the fans. Evita's chest tightened as she took it all in. The sheer scale of the passion of this group of individuals was overwhelming. But it wasn't the crowd that got her, it was him. He belonged here. The fans, the cameras, and the attention felt like a perfect fit. It was as if the F1 world had been waiting for Franco Colapinto to take his place there. Evita smiled at her boyfriend with watery eyes, her throat tightening with pride.

She didn't notice Franco turning back toward her until he was only a few steps away. His grin softened as he caught sight of her, but it quickly turned playful.

"Evita," he teased, tilting his head. "Are you crying?"

She scoffed, blinking rapidly and averting her gaze, scanning her lanyard to get into the paddock. "Don't flatter yourself, Franco."

"Too late," he said, scanning his own pass and catching up to her. "But seriously, Ev, what's going on?"

Evita sighed, trying to fight the blush spreading across her face. "It's just," She waved vaguely toward the fans. "All of this. They're here for you, Franco. I don't know, it's a lot, I guess."

The teasing glint in Franco's eyes softened. "Of course they're here for me. I'm a national treasure," he joked, his hand reaching out to rest on Evita's forearm. It wasn't an inherently romantic gesture, but Franco had an incredible ability to make even the slightest of movements into the most intimate thing in the world.

"Don't ruin the moment," she muttered, looking away as she tried to swallow the lump in her throat.

"You know, mi amor, I wouldn't be here without you," he said softly.

"You and I both know that isn't true," said Evita, wiping at the corner of her eye.

"Sure it is," said Franco. "Without you, I would made a mess of my media duties and gotten myself fired or hated by every fan out there."

Evita laughed. "Okay, you've got a point there."

Franco's hand trailed down her arm, giving her own hand a quick squeeze. "Now where do we need to go first? I know how you are about being late."

"Press conferences. You're with Lewis and Lance this time."

Franco grinned widely at her. "I'm with Lewis?"

"That's what the schedule says," confirmed Evita.

Franco pumped his fist in the air with excitement. "Best home race press conference ever!" he cheered.

Evita giggled. Either this was about to be the smoothest press conference Franco would ever attend, or being in the same room as his idol would turn the whole thing into a disaster. Evita hoped it would be the first option, but she knew Franco well. "Come on, maybe if you get there early enough, you'll get to talk to him," she joked.

Franco leaned in to swiftly kiss Evita's cheek before hurrying off towards the media center, his girlfriend following close behind.