Take a Chance on Me

by cozy_sunshine

Summary:

"Because I can understand a 'no.' I can cry, I can hurt... but at least I know what happened. Instead... everyone left me waiting. They left me thinking that maybe I'd done something wrong. That if I was sweeter, calmer, more obedient... maybe then they'd love me." He finally raised his gaze, damp but firm. "I felt... discarded. Like I was too little to be loved."

 

Or the series where the pack navigates the challenges of all being pups.

 

Spanish version available on my profile.

Chapter 1: The consequences of your actions

The Miami paddock buzzed with the usual chaos of a Grand Prix Thursday: mechanics, engineers, reporters, flashing lights, and voiceovers. But in the pack room Oscar had secured (it was still unclear whether extortion had been committed), the atmosphere was radically different. There, the noise had been kept outside, and what remained inside was an expectant, tense silence, charged with what was about to happen.

Oscar had asked for all the puppies to gather there. The space was prepared: sofas arranged in a circle, a few bottles of water on the coffee table, and the dim afternoon light filtering through the windows. It wasn't a cold environment, but it wasn't comfortable yet either. It was a neutral space, an agreed-upon ground for the inevitable.

Oscar's protective presence at the front, Logan glued to his side, Jack nearby, Gabriel pacing like a calm wall, although his eyes monitored every corner. Kimi, Liam, and Ollie arrived with tense, almost feline movements, alert to any change. Paul hung back a little, though his posture conveyed calculated calm, supported by Dino at his side. Franco and Isack entered silently, more withdrawn, but still keeping their distance from the others.

A few seconds later, the door opened. George entered first, with Lance pressed against his side as if to reinforce his presence. Behind them came Esteban and Mick, the former with tense shoulders and lowered gaze, the latter with a calm expression, his hands clasped in front of him in an almost humble gesture. Yuki and Alex brought up the rear, discreet, carrying an air of genuine discomfort.

The silence stretched for several seconds.

George was the first to speak. His voice, soft and clear, pierced the air like a carefully measured caress.

 

“Thank you for letting us be here. We know it’s not easy, but… we needed to do it. And we think you do too.”

 

His gaze lingered on each of those present, as if he wanted to make sure each pup felt seen. Then he took a deep breath.

 

“I was wrong. I was wrong not to warn you, not to put in more effort before leaving with Lance. It wasn’t because I didn’t value you. It was because I thought it would be easier to disappear than to face the conversation. And that wasn’t right.”

 

Lance lowered his head, pressing his lips together, and then spoke in a sincere murmur.

 

“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have…” He trailed off, as if the words caught in his throat. “George loved you, and so did I… but I did it wrong. I didn’t know how to say it.”

 

Oscar leaned forward on the couch, his tone firm but calm.

 

"This isn't easy to hear. But it's true, we need it to close this chapter in our lives."

 

Dino, sitting next to Paul, nodded silently, though his body remained rigid.

It was then that Yuki and Alex took a step forward. The Japanese man took a deep breath, staring at Isack, who instinctively shrank back a little on the sofa, taking refuge in Gabriel's arm.

 

"Isack," Alex began, his voice soft. "We should have told you the truth directly instead of waiting for someone else to do it. Not that we didn't love you. But that we weren't ready. Neither was I nor Yuki. We thought—mistakenly—that if we told you directly, it would be worse for you. That it would hurt more and you'd feel rejected. We didn't want you to start associating with the pack after that experience. So we avoided them. We avoided you."

 

Yuki, serious, leaned forward a little, his hands clasped together.

 

"We failed you by not trusting you with the truth. You weren't the problem. We were. And if you never want to come near us again, we'll understand. But if at some point…" he stopped, taking a deep breath, "if at some point you want to try again, we'll be there. We have no expectations. We'd just like to be able to try to make up for our mistake, if you're willing to let us."

 

Isack didn't respond. He just lowered his gaze, and Gabriel stroked his shoulder with a calm, protective gesture.

Mick was the next to speak. His tone was calm, measured, but imbued with sincerity.

 

"I want to apologize too. For not being there. For not making an effort to make you feel like you could count on me. I'm not going to make excuses. I just want to tell you that I care. That I truly care about you."

 

Esteban swallowed, his voice trembling a little as it came out.

 

"I... I did wrong. Running away without explanation. It was sudden, yes. You all know what our... situation has been, but it's no excuse. You had the right to know, to have me face you, to have me trust you to tell you that I wasn't in a good place and needed to leave. And instead, I left you with doubts, with wounds you didn't deserve. I'm sorry."

 

Silence fell again. Heavy. Painful. Franco shifted uncomfortably, not looking up from the floor. Liam had his arms crossed, his jaw tense. Ollie tapped his fingers on his leg, restless.

Oscar looked around, letting them react first. And it was Jack, in a low but firm voice, who spoke:

 

"It's appreciated hearing that. But... we can't pretend everything goes away just because we say 'I'm sorry.' We need time."

 

Dino immediately intervened, his tone gentle but charged with meaning.

 

"Time, yes. But this... this is a step."

 

Kimi nodded slowly.

 

"We can respect each other. Be civil. That's what matters now."

 

Logan, his voice soft but clear, added:

 

"And we can start here. With a truce. With the promise that, even if it still hurts, we're trying to move forward."

 

George, his eyes shining with suppressed emotion, bowed his head.

 

"That's all we asked for. A chance."

 

No one smiled. No one rose to hug. But the air, though still heavy, was a little lighter. As if everyone had accepted that the journey wouldn't be traveled in a day, but that at least they'd taken the first step. A tentative truce. A silent promise of respect. And the faint hope that, with time, the wound might begin to heal.

 

"Thank you for letting us be here." Lance looked around, making sure to meet each pup's gaze even though some avoided it. "I know it hasn't been easy. I know you didn't have to do this."

 

Mick merely nodded, not interrupting.

 

"It hurt." Paul's voice was low, but firm. "Not because you left. That was your decision. It hurt because we were left without an explanation. Because from one day to the next... we thought we didn't matter anymore."

 

Dino, at his side, supported him with a slight nod, his hand almost automatically reaching for his omega's.

 

"It wasn't fair to us," he added, his tone calm but laced with restrained reproach. "We were trying to learn to trust. And you..." he looked directly at Yuki, "you were our role models. When you left without saying anything, all we were left with was the thought that we'd done something wrong."

 

Esteban closed his eyes for a moment, as if the words were digging into his chest.

Logan spoke then, his tone soft, but the sadness in him evident:

 

"I... I felt abandoned. And not because you owed me anything, Este, but because I thought I had a place in your world. And suddenly... I didn't." He squeezed Oscar's hand for support. "Sometimes I think you never gave us credit. That you never trusted that we could understand if you'd spoken up."

 

George swallowed, his eyes shining, and replied slowly.

 

"You're right. I have nothing more to say about that. We were stupid people who decided to follow the communication style of very misguided references, even though we knew it wasn't good."

 

A soft murmur came from the sofa where Isack was lying. The Frenchman stirred, curled up on Gabriel's side, staring down at his own hands.

 

"It was worse than a no," he whispered, barely audible.

 

Everyone turned to him. Isack didn't look up, but continued, his voice trembling:

 

"Because I can understand a 'no.' I can cry, I can hurt... but at least I know what happened. Instead... everyone left me waiting. They left me thinking that maybe I'd done something wrong. That if I was sweeter, calmer, more obedient... maybe then they'd love me." He finally raised his gaze, damp but firm. "I felt... discarded. Like I was too little to be loved."

 

The silence that followed Isack's words was so profound that the clatter of cutlery could be heard in the hotel restaurant on the other side of the wall. The Frenchman was breathing heavily, as if daring to say it had opened the wound again, fresh and vulnerable. Ollie, sitting next to him, slid his arm behind Isack's back until he embraced him completely, pulling him against his chest with an almost instinctive tenderness.

Gabriel didn't move away; quite the opposite. He leaned forward slightly, his hand resting on Isack's knee, a firm, silent touch that said "I'm here" without any words.

It was then that Alex cleared his throat. His voice wasn't his usual, joking spark he usually carried on the dance floor: it was broken, low, and had a barely perceptible tremor.

 

"Isack... I..." He paused for a second, as if searching for the right words. "I know. I was one of those who didn't take care of you. And I never fixed it.” It was hard to look him in the eye, but he tried. “It wasn't that I didn't want you around. It was that I didn't know how. I thought someone else would do it better, and I hid behind that. I didn't have the courage to say anything to you, and what I did was worse. I'm sorry.”

 

Isack swallowed, his face half-hidden against Ollie's chest. His voice came out low, raspy.

 

“I never asked for you to take care of me. I just wanted you to tell me. That you wouldn't. That would have been enough.” A small sob broke his voice. “But you ignored me like I didn't exist. Both of you did.”

“I was your teammate, Isack,” Yuki began. “And… I wasn't there for you. I thought being distant was best, that not getting involved would give you freedom. But really, I just left you alone. And now I understand that that hurt you. That… I failed you as a friend.”

 

The Algerian's breathing quickened. He squeezed his eyes shut, his fingers pressing against the fabric of Ollie's T-shirt. Gabriel leaned closer, putting an arm around his back and stroking his shoulder, firm and steady. 

Liam, who had been keeping calm until then, spoke suddenly, his voice dry and sharp:

 

"You have no idea what that meant to him." His eyes were fixed on Yuki and Alex, dark and intense. "It wasn't 'just a mistake.' It was something that shaped how he saw himself. You went on with your lives while he wondered what was wrong with it."

 

Silence fell again, heavy. No one dared to contradict him. Isack, still in Ollie's arms, murmured with difficulty:

 

"I felt like I was... disposable. Like my presence had no value to you." He leaned slightly toward Gabriel, as if seeking a double refuge, between Ollie's embrace and the Brazilian's secure touch. "And even though I know it wasn't malicious, it hurts just the same."

 

Ollie gently kissed Isack's temple, murmuring a soft "shhhh" to calm him. Gabriel held him a little closer, making it clear that he didn't have to continue bearing the weight of those memories alone.

Yuki lowered his head, visibly affected. Alex did too. Neither of them tried to justify themselves. There was something about the way Liam had spoken that had closed the door to any excuses: the only thing they could do was listen.

Oscar, sensing the intensity of the moment, intervened in a calm but firm voice, as if trying to keep the conversation flowing without breaking:

 

"This is what we needed. We're not here to sugarcoat what happened. We're here to say it plainly, so you understand what we're feeling and so we can let it go."

 

Gabriel cleared his throat, breaking the rigidity of the moment a little.

 

"We're here to listen to each other." His eyes searched the others in the pack, then returned to the six. "We can't promise things will change overnight. But we can promise we'll be honest."

 

The atmosphere was charged, as if every word spoken had stirred the air and left scars floating between them. For a few seconds, no one spoke; only the murmur of the air conditioning and the occasional nervous rustle of clothing could be heard. Then Logan straightened.

 

"We're not going to solve everything today," he said calmly. "Not even in a week. But what we can do is make one thing clear: we don't want war, or resentments that keep accumulating. We want to... try."

 

Esteban nodded immediately, almost with relief.

 

"That's all we need. We know it hurts, we know it won't be easy. But if you'll let us, we want to be here, even if it's just to show with actions that we do care about you."

 

Liam crossed his arms, tilting his head, thoughtful.

 

“No one is telling you it’s impossible. But don’t think it’s a done deal with a couple of apologies.” His tone was honest, without cruelty. “If you want us to trust you again, you’ll have to prove it. Little by little.”

 

Yuki, with a serious expression, lowered her head.

 

“We will. We’re not asking for immediate trust. Just the opportunity to build it.”

“This doesn’t mean we’ll go back to what we were. But we can try to be… something. Whatever that ‘something’ is,” Kimi explained.

Lance nodded. “That’s already a lot more than we thought we’d get. Thank you.”

 

There was a positive murmur, and while the tension didn’t completely disappear, it did ease. There were no broad smiles, but there was a tacit understanding: they were opening a door, even if it was slow, even if it was hard to look straight ahead.

And with that, the conversation closed. Not with a perfect closure, but with a fragile truce, an implicit agreement to walk slowly forward, with the understanding that lost trust can only be restored with time, patience, and action.

 

Notes:

Tomorrow I start uni and I'm nervoouuus :)

Very happy for Max's win, although the McLaren drama is already starting to get in the way😅 In F2 I almost cried with Alex Dunne's DNF, but Pepe's podium made up for it a bit🥰 And Tsolov securing the runner-up spot was great, although not as much as THE FIRST CONSTRUCTORS WIN OF CAMPOS RACING AHHHHHHH😆

Chapter 2: Strong emotions

The room was bathed in the warm light of the Miami sunset, which streamed in through the half-open curtains and dyed the sheets of the nest a soft, golden hue. The unmistakable scent of Kimi's peppermint and Ollie's sweet cherry scent floated in the air, permeating the space, marking every corner as theirs. The nest in the bed felt like a small fortress: pillows, blankets, a couple of Kimi's T-shirts, and several soft items belonging to other members of the pack that Ollie had carefully arranged.

Kimi flopped back into the blankets, his hair still slightly damp from his quick shower after qualifying. The smile he wore was impossible to hide; bright, wide, almost childlike. He was beaming at the sprint pole position.

 

"You know what the best thing about taking pole is?" he asked suddenly, tilting his head toward Ollie, who was hovering nearby, adjusting a corner of the blanket as if he really needed it to be just right.

"What?" Ollie looked at him over his shoulder, with that smile of his that always hid something mischievous.

"I can come here and brag to you," he replied, cheekily raising an eyebrow.

 

Ollie burst out laughing and threw himself on top of the other without warning, burying him in the pillows.

 

"As if you needed more reasons to brag!" he accused, laughing as he wrapped his arms around him. His cheeks were flushed with pride, and his eyes shone with that spark that always appeared when he talked about Kimi. "I'm so proud of you. You know that, don't you?"

 

Kimi feigned a haughty gesture, though he couldn't hide the tenderness in the curve of his lips.

 

"Maybe I know. But if you repeat it to me a few more times, I'm sure I'll believe it."

 

Ollie rolled his eyes in amusement, but leaned toward the other, brushing his nose against his own.

 

"I'm going to repeat this so many times you'll get sick of it," he whispered, and before Kimi could respond, he kissed him. A short, playful kiss that broke into soft giggles.

 

The Italian hugged him tightly, squeezing his back, and then flipped him over in a swift movement so he was on top.

 

"Careful, flirtatious omega," he murmured against his lips. "I'm the poleman today."

"And what does that mean?" Ollie asked, laughing, his hands tangled in his alpha's dark hair.

"That I should be getting cuddles... all I want." Kimi tilted his head with a playful smile and moved down to kiss his neck slowly, drawing a soft sigh from him.

"More cuddles?" Ollie raised an eyebrow, amused. "If I give you half of what you asked for, you won't be racing tomorrow."

 

Kimi let out a low laugh against his skin and looked straight at him, his eyes shining.

 

"If I get in the car with your kisses, I'll cross the finish line first."

 

The Brit gently punched him on the shoulder with an incredulous laugh, but his cheeks burned with tenderness. He looked at him for a second in silence, his hands still tangled in his hair, and spoke in a more serious whisper:

 

"Seriously, Kimi... you're incredible. It's not just the pole. It's how you do it. How you race, how you enjoy it. I'm so proud of you."

 

The alpha stood still for a moment, surprised by the raw sincerity in his voice. And then, with a gentle gesture, he lowered his forehead to rest against Ollie's.

 

"Thank you, tesoro," he said softly, using the nickname with intimate affection. "Really. You saying that... that's what matters most to me."

 

A warm silence enveloped them, broken only by their shared breathing. Then, as if neither could stand for too long without the other's laughter, Ollie reached out and tickled the other's side, causing the other to flinch.

 

"Hey!" Kimi protested, trying to catch him.

"Poleman or not, no one's safe from my tickling," he laughed, escaping between the blankets as if it were a children's war.

 

And so they remained, between laughter and stolen kisses, playing in the nest as if the outside world did not exist, with both of their hearts light, proud and happy.

 

---

 

On Saturday, Kimi's wide smile thanks to pole position had faded as the sprint progressed. What had begun with promises of glory ended with a seventh-place finish, a crash that weighed more heavily on his chest than he was willing to admit. In the paddock, he tried to maintain his composure with the calm that used to protect him, but it showed in the small gestures: his lips pursed, his shoulders slightly slumped, his gaze lost in the mechanics.

 

"Hey, third in qualifying tomorrow," Jack reminded him gently, touching his arm when he reached him. "That's what really matters."

 

Kimi nodded, and although he didn't say anything, his eyes softened. Being on the second row gave him back some air.

Sunday arrived with the weight of a real race. The humid Miami heat clung to the skin and emotions, and the day left no one indifferent.

The lap in the LEGO cars was an unexpected respite before the race. Between laughter, clumsy crashes, and wheels that seemed to wobble with every turn, the drivers forgot, even for a few minutes, about timers, pressure, and strategy. They weren't all in the same session—each one was with a teammate—but from a distance they exchanged gestures, smiles, and even the occasional friendly joke. Seeing Kimi, serious even in a toy car, casually answering a call, was enough to make Ollie laugh until he cried.

 

But it wasn't all fun and games that day. Jack ended up staring at the ground, gloves still on, unable to look up after the DNF. The collision with Liam had put him out too soon. Jack knew what consequences he was going to receive before he even got out of the car. 

The New Zealander tried to put on a brave face, but his frustration was evident even in the way he roughly touched his hair. Memories of Red Bull filled his mind, absorbing, reminiscing. But now it was different. He had Isack by his side to support him, and the Frenchman had assured him that he was always welcome in his nests, which filled him with peace of mind.

In another corner of the paddock, Ollie and Gabriel shared the same bitter sadness. Neither of them had even seen the checkered flag. Their treacherous and fragile engines had let them down when they were still dreaming of fighting for points.

Amid the retirements and frustration, one flag waved high: Oscar, with his trademark relentless pace, crossed the line first. Victory was his. The pack greeted him with a hug of pride and relief, because although the day's injuries weighed heavily, having him at the top reminded them that there were still reasons to smile.

 

---

 

The night in Monaco had a different feel. After weeks of traveling, impersonal hotels, and noisy circuits, returning home was like taking a breath for the first time after a long time underwater. However, that peace wasn't complete in the nest. Something creaked in the air.

Jack had been acting strange since they got off the plane. Quiet. It wasn't unusual to see him melancholy after a bad result, but that night there was a new tension in him: he walked as if carrying weight with every step, his jaw clenched, his brow furrowed. During dinner, he barely spoke. In the nest, when the others huddled among blankets and clothes, he found a secluded corner before making his excuses and going out into the corridor.

The silence that followed was awkward, as if everyone was sharing the same question in a low voice.

 

"Do you know what's wrong with him?" Liam finally broke it, looking at Franco and Paul. "He's worse than usual."

 

Franco looked down at his phone, ready to see if they'd missed anything online after the race that could have affected the Australian like this, but he didn't answer. Paul, more practical, turned on his phone and checked his email with a frown. It took only a few seconds for him to let out a soft gasp.

 

"Uh, guys," he said, showing them the screen. "Looks like Alpine's going to announce Oliver Oakes's public resignation tomorrow."

 

Murmurs rose immediately, a mixture of surprise and bewilderment. It was no secret that the atmosphere on the team was strained, but no one expected such an abrupt move.

 

"That would explain part of Jack's mood," Dino whispered, though his voice held more doubt than conviction. "Changes in management tend to be quite disruptive."

 

The Brazilian noticed his fingers trembling on the screen, and that his normally expressive face had gone cold, save for the moist gleam in his eyes. His attention toward the blond was noticed by more members of the pack.

 

"Franco, what's wrong?" Logan asked carefully, leaning toward him slightly.

 

The Argentinian opened his mouth but didn't respond; his voice choked on itself. Just then, the door opened and Jack walked back in. Everyone instinctively turned. The beta wore a tired expression, his shoulders slumped, yet he stopped when he saw his companion's distraught face. Franco looked at him from the couch, his breath catching in his throat.

 

"I'm sorry," it escaped him in a small voice, barely audible, at the same time a tear trickled down his cheek.

 

Jack sighed deeply. He walked slowly to kneel before him, and without saying a word at first, he wiped the tear away with his fingers. The gesture was delicate, intimate, filled with a painful affection.

 

"I understand," Jack murmured, his voice hoarse with suppressed emotion. "And I don't blame you. You don't have to apologize, Franco. Take advantage of this opportunity."

 

The silence in the nest was absolute. The only sounds were the rustling of the blankets and Franco's shaky breathing, which seemed to be debating whether to slump or raise his head. He hesitated for a moment, paralyzed by guilt, before slowly leaning forward and gently embracing Jack. It was an awkward, restrained embrace, as if he were afraid of breaking something.

Jack sighed again, but didn't push him away. On the contrary, he wrapped his arms around him and pulled him against his chest, closing his eyes. There was a fierce tiredness in his expression, but also a tender resignation.

The others looked at each other, not fully understanding. Gabriel frowned, Kimi tilted his head slightly, Logan opened his mouth to ask, but then Jack looked up. And everyone saw it. The tears. Silent, rolling down his cheeks with the calmness of a storm held back too long.

 

"Franco is replacing me," he finally announced, his voice cracking with the weight of the moment. "Starting with the next Grand Prix, he'll be the Alpine driver."

 

The blow was sharp and piercing. No one breathed for a few seconds. Franco tensed against his embrace, as if he still couldn't believe those words. And Jack, between rage and helplessness, tenderly stroked his companion's neck, forcing himself to smile at what was a dream come true for the pup... even though it was destroying him inside.

 

 

 

Notes:

I'm here to complain, double angst, sorry :) You can skip it if you want, there's nothing of much interest other than my dramas.

In case you haven't guessed: uni. I've been there for two days, and well, yesterday was horrible. Everything that could have gone wrong, did. I got home two hours later than I should have and completely soaked, and on top of that, there are problems with the class schedule because it turns out the first-year subjects overlap for some reason I don't understand. There's also the fact that I share all the first- and second-year subjects with two other degrees, and they've told us that mine is the only one not covered in the first year at all, that there's some stuff in the second year, but for now we're screwed with the rest.
At least today, the classes have been better, but people are acting very fake and closed off. There are a lot of closed groups of people who already know each other, and they look at you strangely when you try to socialize. I know I look rude (I've been told that soooo many times), but I don't think it's just my face.
It's also that I'm a little down because I've stopped getting along with some friends. I've known one of them for way longer than any of the others, but she's been acting really self-centered and toxic for months. I tried to give her an ultimatum, but she tried to play the victim and only contacted me again when summer came and she had no plans. And three other friends I made in high school have been really mean and distant. I hadn't seen them in months (which is common due to difficulty coordinating schedules), and they just happened to hang out a lot when I was on vacation. Now they're trying to blame me for not making an effort to see them, even though I literally planned the hangout when I got back. They made me feel really uncomfortable and like a nuisance.
The two friends I usually lean on if I need it are out of town right now, so it's not helping. At least one long-distance friend talked to me today, and I was able to vent a little. We haven't seen each other in a while, and I miss her a lot. She says starting college can bring up a lot of emotions, and that's exactly what it's doing.

I'm sorry for the nearly-longer-than-the-chapter complaint. I haven't seen my psychologist in a few months, and we still haven't been able to make an appointment🥲 Thanks if have read that whole thing. I needed to get it out somehow, and I guess this is where I've felt the safest in a while.

Thanks for reading my stories and giving kudos, and commenting if you do. Receiving that support and positive reinforcement makes me feel so appreciated😊💙

Chapter 3: Limitations

The silence after Jack's confession was so thick it was almost painful to breathe. No one seemed to know what to make of the words that had just fallen into the nest. Paul brought his hand to his mouth, Oscar narrowed his eyes as if trying to understand an impossible equation, Logan looked at him with trembling lips.

 

"What...?" Ollie finally murmured, unable to stop himself. "But... how?"

"Is Alpine really going to...?" Dino didn't finish his sentence because Jack raised a tired hand, as if pleading not to be made to repeat himself.

"Yes," he said, his voice deep and low. "It's already decided."

 

Franco pressed against him, his forehead buried in his shoulder. His body vibrated with tension. No one could tell if he was crying or holding his breath to keep from breaking down completely. Gabriel opened his mouth to try to soften the moment, but Jack was already on his feet.

 

"Sorry, guys," he said, his tone harsh from holding back what was burning in his chest. "I need a moment."

 

And before anyone could stop him, he left the room. The door slammed softly, but the absence he left behind was deafening.

The entire group fell silent, all staring at Franco, who had slumped to the floor with trembling hands. The Argentinian barely looked up, his eyes red-rimmed and wet.

 

“I… I don’t know what to feel,” he confessed, his voice breaking. “This… this is what I always dreamed of, but not like this. Not again. Now taking Jack’s place. Not seeing him suffer like that. I love being able to get in that car, but it breaks my heart that it comes at the expense of Jack’s dream.”

 

Paul leaned toward him and placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

 

“Franco, it’s not your fault. You didn’t steal it. Alpine has made his decision, and Jack himself told you so: take advantage of it.”

 

The Argentinian nodded weakly, but his expression was a tangle of pain and tentative pride.

The following days were strange.

On Wednesday, the house felt more like a sanctuary where everyone tiptoed around. Jack was barely visible. He came and went like a ghost: he ate breakfast in silence, went for a walk alone along the port, returned late, locked himself in his room. No one dared to pressure him, and yet everyone suffered at seeing him so subdued.

At the same time, they tried not to rob Franco of the excitement he deserved. At times, they sat with him to talk about what was to come: preparations for Imola, the flight logistics from now on. But every smile Franco let slip seemed tinged with an immediate shadow, as if every laugh were a betrayal of Jack.

 

"You shouldn't blame yourself," Gabriel told him one afternoon, seeing him silent on the terrace, looking out at the sea. "It's your dream. And Jack knows it."

 

Franco lowered his head.

 

"Yes, but... when I see him walk by without speaking, I feel like he hates me."

"He doesn't hate you," Oscar chimed in from the doorway, his tone calm but firm. "He's hurt, with the team. Not with you. I know him well enough to know that."

 

The blond swallowed, trying to convince himself.

On Thursday the 7th, the news broke.

Social media exploded. Headlines spoke of a “new beginning” for Alpine, of a “generational change.” But what hurt was the fans' reaction: fierce criticism of Jack, insults, comments calling him a failure, a mistake, someone who should never have made it to F1. It was cruel. Unfair. And the Australian driver, although he showed nothing on the outside, looked increasingly depressed.

Franco, on the other hand, became withdrawn. The excitement of the early days faded under guilt and external pressure. He withdrew into himself, unable to enjoy his dream knowing he was fulfilling it over the tears of his beloved friend. He felt guilty, not only for getting the seat in this way, but also for the hatred his own fans spread toward Jack.

That's when Liam approached the beta. He found him sitting on the balcony, his eyes lost in the lights of Monaco. He sat down next to him, saying nothing at first.

Jack turned his head slightly, surprised to see him there.

 

"I thought you were coming to tell me to stop playing the victim," he said bitterly.

"No," Liam replied calmly, resting his elbows on his knees. "I only came because I know how it feels."

 

The other looked at him in confusion.

 

"What do you mean?"

"Being replaced. Being told you're no longer enough, even though you've given your all. Being told your effort isn't enough and having to smile while someone else takes your seat." Liam sighed, staring at the horizon. "It still hurts. Although at least I can still compete on the track."

 

Jack clenched his jaw. The anger was there, always on the edge, but hearing that broke him a little.

 

"How do you handle it?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"Because I learned that my worth isn't determined by a team or a contract. And because I have people who remind me who I am when I forget."

 

The silence between them softened. Jack lowered his gaze, letting out a long breath.

 

"Thanks, Liam." His voice trembled slightly. "Honestly."

 

Liam glanced at him and gave a half smile.

 

"You don't have to thank me. Just... don't wallow alone, okay? And keep in mind that dam would be a great help."

 

Jack nodded slowly. And for the first time in days, although his eyes were still red, he didn't seem so alone.

 

---

 

The days following the announcement were like walking on glass. Everyone in the pack tried to balance supporting Jack and Franco, without either of them feeling left out.

On Wednesday, Kimi and Ollie spent the hours together in private, celebrating the Brit's birthday lightly. Ollie wasn't in the mood for a party after everything that was going on, and the pack appreciated his attitude toward postponing his birthday celebration.

 

Jack was self-absorbed, though not completely isolated. He ate meals, was present at the nest at night, but didn't speak much. His anger was evident in the tension in his jaw, in his sometimes clenched fists against the blanket, in his long stares at the ceiling as if searching for answers there. Liam was the one who stayed by his side the longest. He wasn't one to fill silences, and perhaps that was what made him valuable: he accompanied without demanding, he listened without interrupting.

 

"You didn't sleep tonight either, did you?" he said quietly one night, when the Australian sat up with swollen eyes.

 

Jack snorted, looking away.

 

"I got just enough sleep. It doesn't matter."

"It does matter," Liam replied softly, not moving from his spot. "But I'm not going to push it. Just... if you need me to listen, I'm here."

 

That calm, pressure-free tone eventually drew a long sigh from Jack, who finally slumped against him, his body exhausted and anger still simmering, but grateful.

 

Meanwhile, Franco seemed to be splitting in two. During the day, Alpine kept him busy with meetings and calls. He himself used this excuse to hide behind an overloaded schedule. But the truth was different: he was forbidding himself from seeking the comfort he needed. He didn't want to monopolize Logan, because in his mind, only Jack deserved that kind of care now.

Oscar watched him silently. He knew that kind of sacrifice all too well. More than once, he saw him fake a smile when his phone screen went dark after hours of texts and emails. And every so often, the leader of the pack approached to test him.

 

"Are you sure you don't want to talk for a while?" he asked one afternoon, seeing him distracted in front of the computer.

 

Franco shook his head, without looking up.

 

"No, seriously. I have to finish this."

 

Oscar frowned.

 

"That can wait. You can’t."

 

The Argentinian bit his lip, uncomfortable.

 

"I don't want... I don't want to take away from Jack what he needs most right now. Dam has to be with him."

 

Oscar let it go, but took note. That puppy was drowning in emotions, and he didn't want to let out even a gesture that might seem selfish.

The whole week went by like this, until Monday, about seven days after the news, Franco couldn't take it anymore. His chest was tight, guilt and sadness warring with hope and fear. He knew he couldn't keep silent any longer.

He walked to the door, hesitated for a few seconds, and knocked softly.

 

"Jack?" His voice came out low, trembling.

 

There was a brief silence on the other side, then footsteps. When the other opened the door, he looked tired, with dark circles under his eyes, but his expression softened as soon as he saw him there.

 

"Franco," he whispered, almost with relief. "Come in."

 

He invited him in, and Franco obeyed, closing the door behind him. They sat together on the bed. The alpha rubbed his hands nervously, as if trying to force the words out.

 

"I…" he began quickly, in a rush. "I have to tell you this. I don't agree with what they're saying. I don't. I don't want you to think that… that I think the same as those idiots on the internet. You don't deserve that, Jack. You… you don't."

 

Jack looked at him, surprised, about to respond, but Franco continued, as if he were trying to rip off a Band-Aid:

 

"And I know I'm in your place, and I know it's your seat, and I know I should be happy, but… it hurts, Jack. It hurts because I feel like the closer the race gets, the more you're going to hate me. And I don't want to. I couldn't bear it. Don't hate me, please. I know I don't have the right to ask, but please don't hate me."

 

The words broke there, and Franco lowered his head, clenching his fists and eyes. But he didn't have time to sink, because Jack moved. He wrapped his arms around him, pulled him against his chest, and fell back onto the bed, pulling him with him.

 

"Come here, pup," he murmured, his voice husky with suppressed emotion.

 

Franco lay against him, stiff at first, then almost trembling. He felt Jack's hand on the back of his neck, the warmth of his chest, and he had to breathe deeply to keep from crying with relief.

 

"I missed this," Jack said, with a hint of a smile. "Cuddling up with my alpha pup."

 

The Argentinian let out a broken laugh against his shirt, squeezing his eyes even tighter. His whole body wanted to cry, but he forced it back. He didn't want this moment to be broken.

They spent long minutes like that, in silence, breathing together. Until Franco pulled away, just enough to look him in the eye.

 

"I really thought you were going to hate me. That... the closer the race got, the more you'd feel it."

 

Jack shook his head firmly, his hand still tangled in his hair.

 

"No, Franco. It's not like that. I could never hate you. It's not your fault. Alpine made the decision, not you. And..." he took a deep breath, "I'm proud of you."

 

Franco swallowed, his throat closing.

 

"So... you don't hate me?"

"I could never," he assured him, his gaze steady. "Never."

 

The Argentinian closed his eyes for a moment, letting that phrase sink in. Then, with an effort, he murmured:

 

"You have to talk to dam."

 

Jack raised an eyebrow, surprised.

 

"Why?"

"Because I know you keep everything to yourself. And I... I know he's the best support." Franco sighed, looking away for a second. "I forbade myself to look for him these days because I wanted him to be yours. But don't... don't let pride steal him from you, wanting to appear strong. Talk to him. I can't console you about this, you won't let me, so talk to dam."

 

The older man looked at him for a few seconds in silence and couldn't help but smile, moved.

 

"You're stubborn," he whispered, caressing his cheek. "So possessive of Logan. Telling me to talk to him is your way of looking after me. And I appreciate it more than you know."

 

Franco lowered his head, blushing, not knowing how to respond. But Jack hugged him again, tightly, as if he didn't want to let go. And in that instant, they both understood that neither changes, nor pressure, nor the decisions of a team could break what they had.

The night was quiet in Monaco. The nest breathed a warm aroma, a mixture of all of them, and the murmur of the sea came muffled through the half-open window. Jack had waited for the noise to subside, for everyone to retreat to their corners, before moving. Franco was sleeping in his room, or so he thought; the others were scattered among the sofas and beds.

Jack walked to where he knew Logan would be, his heart heavy. He hesitated in front of the barely closed door until the omega's soft voice invited him in.

 

"Come in, Jack."

 

The younger obeyed. Logan was sitting on the bed, a blanket over his legs, his expression calm, though his eyes immediately read the weight the beta was carrying. Without saying anything, he patted his side. Jack sat down, staring at his hands.

 

"Franco asked me to talk to you," he began, his voice hoarse from so much silence. "I... I don't even know where to start."

 

Logan looked at him patiently, with that serene expression that had comforted so many in the pack.

 

"Start with what hurts you most right now."

 

Jack swallowed.

 

"That they took what was mine. And even though I want to be happy for Franco... it burns inside me. I'm proud of him. I love him. But I'm also furious. And I feel worthless."

 

Logan reached out and stroked the back of her neck, a gentle, non-invasive gesture.

 

"You're not worthless, darling. Just because Alpine doesn't appreciate what you are doesn't mean you lose your worth. That doesn't change anything."

 

Jack closed his eyes, his voice trembling.

 

"I know, but... I feel like everything I built has collapsed. And I don't want Franco to feel it as his fault, because it isn't."

"And that's why you're carrying all the weight alone," Logan murmured, moving closer to hug him. "Jack, that's not fair to you."

 

The Australian slumped against him, his body stiff at first, until he slowly melted into the omega's arms. Logan cradled him, stroking his hair, murmuring soothing words.

 

"Here you can cry if you want. You don't have to be strong here. I understand the feeling." He himself had been replaced by Franco months ago.

 

And Jack cried. Silently, his eyes hidden on Logan's shoulder, releasing his pent-up anger and sadness. Logan held him, cradled him like he was still a wounded puppy.

 

When the tears subsided, Jack sighed against him.

 

"Franco was right. I needed to talk to you. Thank you."

 

Logan smiled, kissing his forehead.

 

"I'll always be here for you. No matter what."

Early morning found Franco awake, restless. He'd heard footsteps, muffled murmurs, and knew immediately that Jack had done as he'd asked. A deep relief coursed through him. And with that relief, for the first time in days, he allowed himself to move.

He went barefoot down to the living room, where Logan was still sitting in the nest, gathering the blanket. When he saw him appear, the omega smiled, opening his arms without asking for an explanation.

Franco practically ran to him, collapsing against his chest, burying his face in his neck like a needy puppy.

 

"Finally..." Logan whispered, laughing softly, wrapping his arms around him tightly. "My alpha pup."

 

Franco closed his eyes, clinging to him with his nails barely digging into his shirt. The knot in his chest suddenly unraveled, and he let out a sigh that seemed trapped inside him for days.

 

"I needed it..." he confessed in a faint voice.

"And I needed to have you here," the older man murmured, stroking his hair, placing small kisses on his temple. "Don't deny yourself this again, Franco. You don't have to be strong all the time."

 

The Argentinian only tightened his grip, as if afraid he'd let go.

Logan smiled against his hair.

 

"That's it. Everything's back where it should be."

 

And it was. The heavy air in the house had lightened. With Jack relieved after opening up, with Franco finally in his pack mother's arms, the strange atmosphere of the previous few days seemed to have dissolved.

The pack breathed easier again.

 

 

 

 

Notes:

You're welcome for this gratuitous angst :)

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 29 of Pups on the Track