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Marco felt out of place. His boyfriend had warned him that the Gala would be boring, but he hadn't warned him about the people. Most of the people here were some kind of royalty, aristocrats or had some other very important connections. Everyone here was basically the elite of the elite. The richest of the richest.
Marco wouldn't say that he was poor, Aprilia paid him good money. But here, here in this room he was basically the lowest class possible. Just a peasant, who accidently got inside. The way the people in this ballroom talked reminded him of Shakespeare. His English wasn't perfect, but normally he understood what he was asked. Here he felt like he had never spoken a word of English before.
Worst thing of it all was that he had lost Marc and was now standing like a lost child in a corner. Hopefully someone will pick him up soon and bring him to safety. A group of a few people were unmistakenly gossiping about him.
He wanted to eat something, but even the food looked like it was way out of his league. It looked expensive, the names of the different foods sounded strange and expensive, hell, he didn't even know most of the food.
“Marco, are you okay?” A familiar voice said. Marco turned to the voice and saw Roser. Finally someone he knew and could communicate with. “I lost Marc.” Was everything Marco could muster to say. He was near tears, everything here was so overwhelming. He swore to himself that he would never ever go to one of those Galas with Marc again. “Ah, let's look for him together, okay?” The former Queen said, before she turned to the group that was gossiping earlier, “And you, get a life.”
Marco has never been so thankful for having a mother-in-law before. Roser is definitely the best.
Roser and Marco walked a little bit around the big ballroom, looking for Marc. It was nice to have someone at his side again, who knew his way around those Galas and people. “How is your first official outing as the partner of the King of Spain?” Roser asked, as they walked together. Marco laughed nervously, “Could be better.”
Indeed, it could be better. He really missed the racetracks and the motorbikes right now. Marco wasn't made for this, he was made to race and be a little weirdo. He knew his way around in motorsport and how to talk to sponsors. The people here were probably the sponsors of his sponsors.
When they finally found Marc, who was in a conversation with some lady. Marco finally felt relieved. The only thing better now would be if they could leave. Leaving and hiding in their bed would be such a dream. Not for dirty stuff of course, because Marco was way too exhausted for that.
Sadly the entire thing went on for a few more hours. Marco discovered that the event wasn't only in the big ballroom, it was also in the garden of the small Palace. To his absolute horror this meant even more people. Even more whispers, even more stares.
When they finally left, sitting in the black, armored car, Marco felt dead. Not a single race had made him so tired in his life, not even when Valentino made him do extra laps on the ranch. Or when Valentino made him clean every single bike on the ranch, after he accidentally offended him, by saying his new haircut was funny.
“Are you okay?” Marco looked at his boyfriend and wondered how he could still look so awake. If he would close his eyes now, he would be instantly asleep. But Marc was probably used to those events, he definitely grew up attending those.
“Mhh” The italian hummed, too tired to give an actual reply. What he would do now for an energy drink. The people at the Gala probably never had one of those in their life. They would probably get a heart attack, because of how much sugar is in energy drinks.
“Stay awake, Carino. Not long and you can go to sleep in a comfy bed.” Marc said, but when he started to massage his head, Marco had lost the fight to sleep.
Marco didn't really remember how or when he got to bed. He also doesn't remember changing into pajamas, but here he is, sitting at the breakfast table with Marc, in his pajamas. Rubik is close by, getting chased by the two sausage dogs, Alex is glued to his phone and smiling like crazy. Roser and Julia are nowhere to be seen.
“You should invite Pecco, I think Alex needs a little help.” Marc whispered into Bez's ear. The Italian just nodded. He knows from Pecco how hopeless the situation between the two of them is.
Alex doesn't want to push Francesco, and Francesco is currently way too depressed over his shitty MotoGP season, to function probably. He currently thinks Alex doesn't want more from him and baths in his self pity.
Both of them could use some help, and Pecco definitely could use a new therapist too.
Marco nodded and proceeded to munch on his cornetto. The peace didn't go on for long though. The older Marquez brother got a call, which he picked up with a sigh. Marco watched his boyfriend closely, while eating more. The face of the King got more and more concerned. Even Alex, who for a moment looked up from his phone, noticed.
Still on the call, Marc gave a nervous smile to his boyfriend, “Could you please give me your phone, my carino?” Marco, who now also got very nervous, gave his boyfriend his phone.
The older one scrolled through his phone, while talking to someone on his phone. His facial expression shifted from concern to anger. When he finally hung up, he turned to Bez, with an expressionless face, “You shouldn't go on your phone for some time, okay? I’m gonna keep it for a bit, trust me, it's better that way.”
“What? Marc, what do you mean? What happened? Is someone dead?” Did someone die? Are his parents okay? The Italian had so many questions. “No one's dead, no one's in the hospital. Just the Gossip Papers, being assholes.” Marc tried to calm him down.
A lot of people always say that Marco is slow, some say he is quite stupid, and sometimes he agrees with them. Even if Marc tells him that he shouldn't. But even he could put one and one together. The Gossip Newspapers are tearing him to shreds now, because of yesterday, because of the Gala. He gave them so much material.
It's nothing new for him though. He is used to it, because the journalists in motorsport often have a lot to say about him too. Especially in the earlier years.
“Oh, that's it? I thought something bad happened. Don't worry, I'm used to people tearing me to shreds on the Internet and in newspapers.” Marco responded. Marc shouldn't worry about that. Really, he can handle some people not liking him.
“No, trust me. You really don't want to see it. And maybe you should put your reposts on TikTok to a private setting.” Marc still sounded so serious.
Bez thought about it for a moment. He was there as the partner of the King. Everything he did will be reflected on the crown. He definitely had offended the crown and now Marc was angry because of that. Now it made sense for Marco.
“Ah, okay. If you say so.” He smiled weakly. Oh, poor Marc, he probably is so embarrassed now. That's probably also why Roser and Julia aren't here. They didn't want to see Marco, he had disappointed and embarrassed them.
Not forgetting his reposts on TikTok. They are definitely not royal like. Hell, even MotoGP fans found them weird sometimes. But that's what he is, a weirdo. He really needs to see what the newspapers are saying about him. He needs to change, learn and be better for Marc.
“I’m going to speak with the PR Department. Let's see what they can do about it.” Marc gave him a kiss on the head and then left, leaving him with Alex alone.
“Please show me what they're writing about me. I’ll even get Pecco to come to Spain, so you can hang out with him.” Marco pleaded. The Prince didn't look too convinced. “Marc said it's best if you don't look at it. And let's be honest, he is the boss. So, I don't know if I should let you.”
Yeah, Marco's next argument would have been that Marc isn't the Boss of Alex, but they both know that that is a big lie. First of all, Marc is the King of Spain. Second of all, and most importantly, he is Alex's older brother. So yeah, he is the boss.
“Please, I’m gonna see it anyway at some point. And you want an excuse to have Pecco here.” Marco is, in fact, not above begging.
“Okay.” The Spaniard sighed, “But don't tell my brother that I showed you. He’ll kill me.”
Like a puppy, who wanted to please his owner, Marco nodded.
The younger Marquez brother handed him his phone with the Google News Feed open. And oh, so many articles. So, so many of them. And every single one was about Marco and his behavior at the Gala.
Most of them were in Spanish, he couldn't really read them. His Spanish wasn't that good, he needs more practice.
But the ones in English were definitely enough. Not a single article had something positive to say about him. All of them absolutely hated everything about him. His outfit, his awkwardness, how he was walking, that he was dating Marc, how he addressed Marc and Roser, how he didn't bow to Marc and Roser, that he was just an athlete, that he was just an athlete that didn't even come from a respected sport. With respected sport they meant tennis, or something with horses. Apparently Motorsport is just a sport of second or third class, not an old money sport.
Apparently he made such a bad impression that the aristocrats now hate motorcycles, according to the British newspaper The Sun. The Italian articles he found were nicer though, but they were also fewer. Only three of them.
One comment he found under an article said that he was just a foolish golddigger, that knows nothing about royalty and is a disgrace for the Spanish Royal Family and the nation of Italy. Another one called him an empty headed, second class motorcycle rider, who is way too much on TikTok and probably doesn't even know where South America is, or how to do basic maths.
It definitely wasn't pretty at all. It could be worse, right? The articles gave him a simple basis on what he had to change. A basis on what he needed to do, to be worthy of Marc.
“Oh, no, no, no, no, no. I know what you are thinking and forget about it. I’m gonna go and get Marc, if you start to believe in those articles. They're all wrong, they have absolutely no clue on who you are.” Alex did sound serious. But it was easy for him, wasn't it? He grew up around these people, he knew how to behave, how to dress, he was smart.
“Nope, you aren't doing that. I’m gonna tell Marc that you said that you're stupid.” Alex said, and got up from his seat at the table. “I didn't say anything.” Marco pouted. “No, but you thought about it. That's enough.” Alex responded and started to walk away. Now Marco got up too, to sprint to the Prince and block the exit for him. “He's gonna be so mad at both of us. Marc’s gonna be mad at you, for showing me the articles and he is gonna be mad at me, for thinking that I'm stupid.”
He had a point. He had a really good point. No one wanted the anger of the older Marquez brother. That wasn't something pretty.
“He is gonna be even more mad, if I don't tell him.” Alex said and started to push Marco away, so he could leave. “Please don't. I’ll do anything.” Marco begged. “Nope, you already promised that you're gonna get Pecco to come to Spain.” With a smile, Alex walked even faster.
Smug bastard.
Both of them are in trouble, some big trouble.
At the PR office, Alex barged in, without knocking, without any announcements that he was here. Marco just followed him. The employees of the Royal PR Department turned to look at them. Marco couldn't fault them. Especially since he was still in his pajamas.
“Marc, your boyfriend said that he is stupid.” Alex started. “Alex showed me the articles.” Marco stated. “Yes, because you begged me.” Alex defended himself. And Marc inhaled and let out a big sigh, “The both of you can be very happy that I love you.”
“First of all Marco, carino, how often do I need to tell you that you aren't stupid and that you shouldn't believe what people say about you. Second, Alex you little shit, why did you do this?” Marc didn't look too angry, more like a disappointed parent. Marco wasn't sure that was worse.
“Probably because he wants to fuck my best friend.” The Italian said. Some people in the office coughed and turned their heads to their computers. Alex looked at him, as if he just said that he had a third eye on his ass. “Common, it's true. Everybody who has eyes knows that.” Bez shrugged. Alex turned to his older brother who nodded, “Bez is right, you do want to fuck his best friend.”
“How about we take this somewhere else.” Marc said, after he had realized what he just said to an audience of PR employees. He should be very happy that all of them had signed NDAs. Marc led the way out, back to their livingroom.
Later that day, when the couple was lying in bed together again, Rubik still getting bullied by Stitch and Shira, and Alex in his own room being happy that Francesco was coming to Spain, Marc and Marco had a little talk.
“You know, you shouldn't believe what those tabloids say. Not one single thing is true. You are an amazing person, don't change.” The King said. “It's easy for you. You know your way around. I mean I did get some etiquette classes from your mother, but I still don't know how to behave around the elite. I’m sorry if I offended anyone, or embarrassed you and your parents.”
Marc put a hand on the cheek of the Italian, “You didn't offend anyone. Also, my parents could not care less about what the Gossip Papers have to say. They love you.”
Marco scooted closer to his boyfriend, “If you say so.”