finally see what it means / to be living

by endlesslycmpunk

Summary:

And then another thought slips in behind it.

Disappointing Arvid.

That one stings more than he expects it to.

good boy

the term was innocent enough. people said it all the time without thinking twice about it. it was usually meant for dogs, a simple form of praise that carried warmth in its tone. something small, easy, encouraging. the kind of phrase you used when a dog finally sat on command or brought back the ball instead of running off with it. good boy. two words that meant approval, reassurance, the promise that whatever had just been done was the right thing.

it was meant to make the animal understand that its behavior was correct. that it had listened, that it had pleased the person giving the command. the phrase had a softness to it, a reward without needing anything physical attached to it. sometimes there would be a treat, sometimes a scratch behind the ears, but often the words alone were enough. dogs seemed to light up when they heard it, tails wagging, ears perked forward as if the sound itself carried weight.

liam used to think the phrase was cute.

before everything else, before it became something he could not hear without remembering that video.

it had started as a stupid social media clip. one of those quick little videos teams posted because they needed content between races. something short, easy, meant to be funny for fans scrolling through their phones. VCARB had posted it like it was harmless. just a bit of playful teasing, the kind that looked good in an edit and got easy views.

they had asked him why it was so hard to say rough twice.

twice.

at the time it had seemed normal enough. they had told him it was for a joke, some kind of quick clip they were putting together. liam had not thought too hard about it. media days were full of things like that. random prompts, awkward poses, quick jokes meant to be stitched together later.

so he had said it.

rough.

and then again.

rough.

he had not realized what it would sound like once it was said.

once the internet got hold of it, the joke was obvious.

it sounded like barking.

the edit made it worse. the way they cut it, the timing, the caption. people online picked it up immediately. the comments filled with laughing emojis, dog gifs, people repeating the sound over and over like it was the funniest thing they had heard all week.

liam had tried to laugh about it at first.

you kind of had to.

drivers got made fun of for everything. a weird expression, a voice crack during an interview, the way they waved to the crowd. once it was online it was out of your hands. the best thing you could do was shrug it off and move on.

still, the joke stuck around longer than he would have liked.

fans would bring it up sometimes.

not constantly, not enough to make a scene about it, but enough that he noticed. someone in a crowd yelling it during a signing session. someone leaving comments under a post. rough rough. good boy. things like that.

it should have been easy to ignore.

it usually was.

what made it worse was something he did not like admitting to himself.

because the phrase good boy had always done something strange to him.

not in the way the internet meant it. not the joke version.

the real version.

liam had never been the kind of driver who received constant praise. his career had not followed the smooth, predictable path some of the others had. there were gaps, replacements, waiting periods where he had to prove himself all over again. every time he stepped into a car it felt like someone was watching closely, waiting to see if he would mess it up.

skills could only carry you so far when people were unsure about you.

so compliments were rare.

real ones, at least.

most of the feedback he heard was technical. lap times, telemetry, notes about braking points or tire management. the kind of language that stripped emotion away from everything. good sector. too much understeer there. push harder on entry. manage the rear.

none of that sounded like praise.

it sounded like instructions.

approval, when it did come, was usually brief. a quick nod from an engineer, a short comment after a clean run. well done. good job. things that disappeared as soon as the next problem appeared.

he had gotten used to it.

drivers were supposed to.

still, there was something oddly grounding about hearing simple approval. something uncomplicated, almost childish in how direct it was. good job. nice work. the kind of praise that did not come wrapped in data or strategy.

good boy was even simpler than that.

it stripped everything down to the bare minimum. approval in its most basic form.

liam would never say it out loud, but the first time the admin had jokingly said it to him, he had felt a small flicker of something warm in his chest.

embarrassing.

that was the only word for it.

it was not like he wanted to be compared to a dog. obviously not. the idea itself was ridiculous. but the tone behind the phrase, the easy affection in it, had slipped past his defenses before he could stop it.

it meant you had done something right.

that someone was pleased with you.

that was the part his brain latched onto.

which made the tiktok even more irritating.

because now the phrase was tangled up with the joke. every time someone said it online it came with that stupid barking sound in the back of his head. the clip repeating over and over like it had burned itself into the internet permanently.

rough.

rough.

he hated how easily people laughed about it.

and he hated, even more, the way a tiny part of him still reacted to the words themselves.

good boy.

simple praise.

something warm, reassuring, meant to encourage.

he wondered sometimes if dogs understood how powerful it was.

how much meaning could sit inside two small words.

a dog probably did not think about it the way humans did. it did not analyze tone or context the same way. it simply heard approval and responded to it instinctively. tail wagging, body relaxing, confidence growing because the person it trusted had said everything was okay.

liam envied that simplicity a little.

people were not wired like that.

for people, praise always came tangled up with something else. expectations, pressure, the knowledge that approval could disappear the moment you slipped up.

he knew that better than most.

motorsport was brutal in that way.

you could have a perfect race one weekend and still be questioned the next. one mistake was enough to erase everything that came before it. fans loved you until they did not. teams supported you until someone faster came along.

approval was temporary.

maybe that was why those two words stuck in his head.

good boy.

ridiculous.

childish.

and yet strangely comforting in a way he did not fully understand.

the internet had turned it into a joke, twisted it into barking noises and dumb comments that followed him around. but underneath that noise the phrase still carried its original meaning.

simple praise.

liam tried not to think about it too much.

because once you started thinking about why something like that mattered, you had to confront other things too. the quiet pressure of always needing to prove yourself. the strange loneliness that came with a career built on constant competition.

sometimes approval felt rare enough that even the smallest version of it stuck with you.

even something as stupid as two little words.

good boy.

arvid had not been around when the whole good boy thing had started.

that entire mess had happened months earlier, during a time when liam already felt like he was constantly balancing on the edge of something. the internet had picked up the joke quickly, the barking clip spreading through fan pages and edits faster than he could ignore it. for a while it had been everywhere. comments, replies, little jokes thrown into interviews by people who thought they were being clever.

good boy.

rough rough.

liam had learned very quickly how to shut it down.

not directly, not in a way that would cause headlines or make things awkward with the media team. but he made it clear enough through body language, through the way he responded when someone tried to bring it up. short answers, tight smiles, moving the conversation somewhere else. eventually people got the message.

the team stopped referencing it.

the social media managers stopped posting anything related to it.

even the mechanics avoided joking about it around him. they were good guys, most of them older and not particularly interested in internet humor anyway. if they noticed the way liam’s shoulders tensed when the barking noise got mentioned, they kept it to themselves and dropped the topic.

the trend faded.

memes always did eventually.

by the time arvid joined the team, the whole thing had mostly disappeared from daily life.

which was probably why arvid had no idea about it.

arvid arrived months later, right after things shifted around again. isack had moved up to red bull, leaving a seat open that needed filling. the change had come quickly, like most things in formula one did. one day someone was part of your daily routine and the next day they were somewhere else entirely.

liam had been happy for him, of course.

isack deserved it.

still, that did not stop the quiet sense of absence that lingered after he left.

liam and isack had been close. teammates, yes, but also something closer to friends than the sport usually allowed. they had understood each other in a way that did not need explaining. similar positions, similar pressure, both of them constantly trying to prove they deserved to be where they were.

when isack moved on, the garage felt different.

quieter in strange places.

so when arvid arrived, liam’s first reaction was not excitement.

it was adjustment.

the first meeting had been simple enough. introductions, a few conversations around the garage, the usual routine that happened whenever a new driver joined a team. arvid had seemed calm, maybe a little reserved but friendly enough. he shook hands, smiled politely, listened more than he spoke.

liam liked him well enough on first impression.

there was nothing about arvid that made him immediately uncomfortable, nothing that felt forced or overly confident. he carried himself in a relaxed way that made conversations easy.

but nothing clicked instantly either.

that kind of connection was rare.

liam could not help the small comparison that lingered in the back of his mind. it was difficult to look at the empty space where isack used to stand and not feel the difference. arvid had not done anything wrong. he had simply arrived in a place that still felt slightly unfinished.

it took time.

luckily, arvid seemed like the kind of person who was patient about that sort of thing.

the first few weeks passed quietly. they worked together, shared brief conversations between meetings, occasionally joked about something small during long simulator days. nothing dramatic, nothing that forced them together. just small interactions that slowly stacked on top of each other.

arvid was nice.

that was the simplest way liam could describe him.

he was polite with the mechanics, attentive during meetings, and surprisingly relaxed when the cameras were around. he did not try too hard to be funny or charismatic for the sake of the media clips. he just spoke naturally and let things happen.

liam appreciated that.

slowly, without either of them really noticing when it started, the distance between them shrank.

they began sitting near each other during meals. small conversations stretched longer than they used to. sometimes they would end up talking about things that had nothing to do with racing at all.

liam found himself liking arvid more than he had expected.

and one thing about it made the whole experience easier than he realized at first.

arvid clearly had no idea about the good boy thing.

not once did he reference it.

not once did he make the barking noise.

not once did he bring up the stupid clip that still floated around somewhere on the internet.

liam noticed that quickly.

at first he wondered if arvid simply knew better than to mention it. maybe someone had warned him, told him the joke was old or that liam did not appreciate hearing it repeated. teams talked, after all.

but as the weeks passed, it became obvious that arvid genuinely did not know.

which meant liam could relax around him in a way he had not expected.

there was something strangely freeing about being around someone who had not seen that version of you online. someone who had not watched the clip or read the comments or absorbed the running joke that everyone else seemed to remember.

with arvid, there was no barking.

no teasing.

just normal conversations.

liam liked that.

maybe more than he wanted to admit.

the season kept moving forward. testing schedules, media obligations, long days filled with meetings and preparation. time blurred together the way it always did once the calendar started filling up.

then the week before australia arrived.

that week was always chaotic.

teams rushed to finish everything before the first race. promotional shoots piled up, sponsors demanding content before the season officially started. drivers got pulled from one activity to another with barely enough time to check their phones between sessions.

liam had already forgotten half the things they filmed that week.

one of those things happened in the street somewhere on the paddock.

he honestly did not remember what the advertisement was supposed to be for. something with a sponsor, probably. the set looked like every other promotional setup he had stood in before. bright lights, cameras, a few crew members holding clipboards while someone explained instructions that sounded unnecessarily complicated.

this one was particularly strange.

they wanted liam to do a handstand.

that was the entire premise.

the director had explained it quickly while gesturing toward the padded floor. apparently it would be a short clip, something playful to show teamwork or balance or whatever message the sponsor wanted attached to it.

liam would do a handstand.

arvid would stand behind him to make sure he did not fall.

that was it.

liam had stared at the guy for a moment, wondering if he was serious.

but media days were full of weird requests. drivers ended up doing stranger things than that for promotional material.

so he shrugged and agreed.

arvid seemed amused by the idea.

they set up quickly. liam rolled his shoulders a little, crouching down on the street while a crew member adjusted the camera angle. arvid stepped into position behind him, ready to grab his legs if something went wrong.

liam planted his hands on the ground.

the lights felt warm against the back of his neck.

someone counted down.

three.

two.

one.

liam pushed upward, lifting his legs into the air with the controlled movement he had learned years ago. handstands were not exactly part of a racing driver’s job description, but he was athletic enough to manage it without embarrassing himself.

for a moment everything balanced perfectly.

his weight settled through his arms, core tightening as he found the center point. then he felt arvid’s hands lightly catch his ankles, steadying him just in case.

“okay, now walk forward,” someone said from behind the camera.

liam shifted his weight carefully.

one hand moved forward.

then the other.

his shoulders burned slightly with the effort as he began moving across the mat, arms stepping one after another while arvid followed behind, keeping his grip steady on liam’s legs.

it was a ridiculous situation.

liam was upside down, trying not to laugh while a camera crew watched him crawl forward on his hands like some strange circus act.

and then he heard it.

soft enough that it almost blended into the background noise.

“good boy.”

the words slipped out casually, almost absentmindedly.

for a second liam thought he imagined it.

his arms paused for the smallest fraction of a moment, balance wavering before he caught himself again. he continued moving forward automatically, but his mind had already latched onto the sound.

good boy.

the voice had been close.

right behind him.

arvid.

liam finished the short walk across the mat, lowering his feet back to the ground while the crew called cut and started discussing whether they needed another take.

he stood up slowly.

his shoulders still burned from holding the position, but that was not the thing occupying his thoughts.

he glanced over at arvid.

arvid looked completely normal.

relaxed, even.

like he had not just said the exact phrase liam had spent months trying to escape.

Liam did not know whether he should bring it up or not. The thought had been nagging at him for the better part of the afternoon, circling around his mind like a fly that refused to leave. Maybe he had misheard it. Maybe he had just been caught in his own head again, reading too much into something small the way he sometimes did when he was tired or stressed. That would make more sense. It would make everything easier.

But no.

The audio was right there.

He could hear it again, clear as day, coming from the video Media was replaying on the monitor across the room. The sound cut through the low background chatter of the paddock. Someone laughed off to the side. Another driver walked by. But Liam barely noticed any of it.

Because there it was again.

Arvid's voice.

And the word.

Arvid was standing near the back wall, leaning casually against the desk like he always did, relaxed and comfortable in a way Liam sometimes envied. He was talking to their social manager while the clip played back for them. Both of them were watching the footage with easy expressions, occasionally laughing at the timing of the skit. Arvid even giggled once, covering his mouth briefly with the back of his hand like he always did when something caught him off guard.

Neither of them seemed to find anything strange about it. Nothing awkward. Nothing unusual.

Nothing wrong.

Liam sat a few desks away, staring at the same clip while his stomach twisted itself into knots.

Usually when someone called him that, it made his stomach drop. His chest would tighten. Heat would crawl up the back of his neck and settle across his cheeks in that humiliating way he hated. It always made him feel like he was suddenly under a spotlight he never asked for.

And that had happened this time too.

The moment he heard it during filming earlier, his stomach had dropped exactly the way it always did. His face had flushed, and he remembered praying that the camera did not catch it too clearly. The reaction had been automatic, the same as it always was when someone used that phrase around him.

Good boy.

People had said it before. Plenty of times.

Sometimes it was teasing. Sometimes it was sarcastic. Sometimes it was said loudly across the room like a joke meant for everyone to hear. Every version of it had always made Liam shrink in on himself a little, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

But this time there had been something else.

Something new.

Something he had not been able to stop thinking about since it happened.

Because beneath the embarrassment, beneath the instinctive discomfort, there had been another feeling buried deeper. Something quieter, but impossible to ignore once he noticed it.

He remembered liking it.

The realization made Liam press his lips together as he stared at the screen.

He did not want to admit that, even to himself. The idea felt ridiculous the moment it formed. His brain kept trying to reject it outright, pushing it away every time it resurfaced.

But the memory would not go anywhere.

The way Arvid had said it.

Not loud. Not mocking. Not exaggerated for the camera the way some of their bits tended to be.

It had been softer than that. Casual, almost absentminded, like the words had slipped out naturally without any thought behind them. There had been a small laugh in his voice too, the kind Arvid got when he was amused with someone rather than at them.

"Good boy."

Liam shifted slightly in his chair, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck.

It had felt.. good.

The thought made his stomach twist again, though this time it was not entirely unpleasant. That only made it worse.

Because it was Arvid.

For some reason that seemed to matter more than Liam wanted it to.

Something about the way the younger man had said it had landed differently. The words had carried a tone Liam could not quite describe, something warm and genuine that had slipped right past all the defenses Liam usually had when people teased him.

It had not sounded like a joke.

At least not completely.

And Liam knew that was ridiculous.

Of course it was a joke. The entire thing had been part of a skit. They had cameras pointed at them the whole time. Half the lines they used during those recordings were improvised anyway. Arvid probably had not even thought about it after saying it.

He had just said it because it fit the moment.

That was all.

Yet Liam could not shake the feeling.

He watched the clip again as Media rewound it for the third time.

There it was.

Arvid stepping closer, leaning slightly into frame, smiling that bright easy smile of his before delivering the line.

And Liam, on screen, reacting with a startled laugh that looked far more genuine than he remembered feeling in the moment.

The social manager chuckled again at the timing.

"That part's great," she said, pointing at the screen.

Arvid grinned. "Right? I wasn't even planning that line."

Liam's stomach flipped
.
Not planned.

Of course it was not planned.

Why would it be?

Still, the comment did not make the thought go away. If anything it made the memory sharper.

Because that meant Arvid had said it without thinking.

Without forcing it.

Which meant the tone Liam remembered hearing had probably been real too.

He hated how much that mattered to him.

Liam leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest as he tried to focus on literally anything else. The hum of the computer. The muffled voices down the hall. The faint buzz of fluorescent lights above them.

Anything except the clip that kept replaying in the background.

Anything except the words echoing in his head.

Good boy.

Normally he could not stand it when people said that to him. It always made him feel small in a way he could not explain, like he had been turned into the butt of some joke everyone else understood except him.

But when Arvid had said it, it had felt different.

Not smaller.

Warmer.

That was the part Liam really did not want to think about.

Because warmth meant comfort.

And comfort meant he had liked it.

Which made absolutely no sense.

He had known Arvid for what, a three or four months? Maybe a little more. They worked together constantly, sure, and spent enough time filming and planning content that Liam could predict half the things Arvid would say before he said them.

But that did not mean anything.

It definitely did not mean Liam should be reacting this way to something so small.

Yet every time the clip replayed, Liam felt that same strange pull in his chest.

Embarrassment.

Confusion.

And that quiet flicker of something he could not bring himself to name.

He exhaled slowly through his nose, dragging a hand down his face.

He was overthinking it.

That had to be the explanation.

Arvid had said a line during a skit. Liam had reacted awkwardly like he always did. The editors thought it was funny.

That was it.

There was no deeper meaning hiding inside two stupid words.

Still, Liam found himself glancing toward Arvid across the room.

Arvid was still leaning against the desk beside the social manager, watching the clip play again with an easy smile. Completely relaxed. Completely unaware of the minor crisis happening three desks away.

He laughed softly at another moment in the footage, shaking his head.

For a moment Liam wondered if Arvid would even remember saying a few hours later.

If he didn’t, he clearly did not think it was important.

Liam swallowed.

Which meant bringing it up would probably be even weirder.

What would he even say?

Hey, earlier when you called me a good boy during that skit, it made me question my entire emotional stability?

Yeah. No.

Absolutely not.

Liam sank a little lower in his chair.

Still, the thought would not leave him alone.

Because somewhere deep down, beneath the embarrassment and the confusion and the stubborn denial, there was a small quiet truth Liam could not fully ignore.

When anyone else called him that, he hated it.

But when Arvid said it..

He liked it.

And that was a problem Liam had absolutely no idea how to deal with.

Arvid, even though he was younger and probably more naive than Liam, seemed to pick up on the older man's discomfort far quicker than Liam would have expected. It was not something Liam had tried very hard to hide, but he also had not imagined anyone in the room would bother paying close enough attention to notice. Yet every few minutes, when Liam let his gaze drift across the busy floor, he caught Arvid looking over.

At first the glances were quick. Brief. The kind someone makes when they think they might be imagining something. Arvid would look up from the engineers gathered around him, glance toward the far wall where Liam stood, then quickly look back down at whatever someone had just shown him. But it kept happening.

Every few minutes.

Every time Liam looked up.

And every time, Arvid's expression seemed to change just a little.

Concern crept into it slowly. His brows drew together slightly. His smile faded faster when someone around him finished speaking. Once or twice he even looked like he was about to say something before someone else in the group pulled his attention away again.

Liam noticed all of it.

He could not really help noticing. The room itself was loud enough that it forced him to stand still and observe rather than participate. Conversations overlapped constantly. People moved around with laptops tucked under their arms, gesturing animatedly while explaining something to someone else. Screens flickered on the far wall where someone had connected a presentation that no one seemed particularly focused on anymore.

It should have been the sort of environment Liam thrived in.

Instead, he felt strangely detached from it.

He stood near the wall with his arms loosely crossed, shoulder resting lightly against the cool surface behind him. From a distance he probably looked calm. Maybe even relaxed. But the longer he remained there, the more obvious it became to anyone paying attention that something was off.

His posture was too still.

His eyes stayed fixed on nothing for too long at a time.

And when people occasionally passed close enough to greet him, his responses were short and distracted.

He knew Arvid was noticing.

That much became obvious very quickly.

Liam considered, briefly, the idea of pretending everything was fine. Straightening up. Joining one of the nearby conversations. Maybe even walking over to Arvid's group and offering some input about whatever they were discussing. It would not have been difficult. Liam had done exactly that in situations like this dozens of times before.

But the thought felt exhausting.

So he stayed where he was.

He did not change his posture. He did not adjust his expression. He did not try to disguise the quiet turmoil sitting just beneath the surface. If someone wanted to notice it, they would. If they did not, that was fine too.

He certainly did not expect Arvid to do anything about it.

Which made what happened next all the more surprising.

Across the room, Arvid was still surrounded by people. Two engineers stood close to him, both speaking at once while pointing at something on a tablet. A member of the social team leaned over Arvid's shoulder, clearly trying to get his opinion on something. Arvid nodded along politely, offering occasional comments, but his attention was not fully there anymore.

Liam could tell.

Arvid's eyes kept drifting.

Every few seconds they flicked toward the wall again.

Toward him.

At one point Arvid actually paused mid sentence while listening to someone else speak, his gaze lingering across the room for longer than usual before he forced it back to the conversation.

Liam sighed quietly to himself and looked away.

He had not meant to make it so obvious.

Still, he doubted anything would actually come of it. Arvid was busy. Important enough that people constantly wanted his attention. Liam assumed the younger man would eventually push the concern aside and return to whatever he had been discussing.

Instead, Arvid did something Liam absolutely had not expected.

He excused himself.

It took a moment for Liam to realize what was happening. Arvid said something brief to the small group around him, gestured apologetically, and stepped away before anyone could really protest. One of the engineers tried to call him back, clearly still mid explanation, but Arvid just smiled, promised he would be back in a minute, and continued walking.

Straight toward Liam.

Liam watched him approach with mild disbelief.

Arvid did not rush. His pace was steady, though there was a faint tension in the way his hands moved as he walked. When he finally reached the wall, he stopped a few feet away and leaned back against it beside Liam, mirroring the older man's posture without quite looking at him yet.

For a moment neither of them spoke.

The noise of the room filled the silence between them. Conversations continued. Someone laughed loudly somewhere across the room. A chair scraped against the floor.

Arvid stared straight ahead, just like Liam had been doing.

Then he bit lightly at his lower lip, the small nervous habit appearing almost unconsciously, and finally turned his head.

"You okay?"

The question was simple.

Quiet.

Nothing dramatic about it at all.

Which somehow made it harder to answer.

Liam kept his eyes forward for a second longer, as if considering the question carefully. In truth, he already knew what he was going to say. The same thing people always said in moments like this.

The easy answer.

The safe one.

"Yeah," he muttered after a brief pause. "I'm fine."

His voice came out softer than he intended, carrying just enough hesitation that the words did not sound nearly as convincing as they should have.

Liam knew that.

Arvid probably knew it too.

Still, Liam kept his gaze fixed on the room ahead of them, hoping the conversation might end there. Hoping Arvid would accept the answer without digging any deeper.

Because Liam did not actually have a better explanation ready.

And he was not entirely sure he wanted to try explaining it even if he did.

Over the next few weeks it started to dawn on Liam that he was probably acting strange. Not just a little distracted or tired, but properly off. The kind of off that other people notice even when you are trying your best to keep things normal. He knew it before anyone said anything. Hell, he knew it before anyone even had the chance to say anything.

And he knew Arvid could tell.

It was written all over the small things Liam kept failing to control. The way his eyes would flick down instead of holding eye contact for more than a second too long. The way he would startle if someone tapped his shoulder when he was too deep in thought. The way his answers sometimes came a little too late, like his brain had to catch up to the conversation everyone else was already having.

Painfully obvious, really.

Liam hated that it was obvious.

He had always been good at keeping things together, especially in a racing environment where nerves were normal but losing control of them was not. The paddock thrived on confidence. Mechanics moved faster when the driver looked calm. Engineers trusted feedback more when the voice delivering it was steady. A driver who looked uncertain made everyone else uncertain too.

And lately Liam had not looked steady.

He could feel it in himself, that strange sense of being slightly out of place inside his own skin. Like he had woken up in the wrong version of the season and was trying to play catch up with everyone else who seemed to know exactly where they were supposed to be.

Not a great place to be with the first race creeping closer.

Definitely not a great place to be with qualifying on the horizon.

The team garage was louder than usual as pre season testing wrapped up and preparations shifted toward race weekend logistics. There were always more people around at this stage. More engineers, more strategists, more media staff drifting through with cameras and questions. It was busy enough that most drivers could disappear into the noise if they wanted to.

Liam had tried that.

It had not worked particularly well.

Because every time he thought he had successfully blended into the background, his attention would drift somewhere it had absolutely no business drifting.

Usually toward Arvid.

That was part of the problem.

Arvid had slotted into the team far faster than anyone had expected. Not just competent, not just good. He was fast in a way that felt natural, like he had been driving the car for years instead of weeks. His feedback during debriefs was sharp. His lap times were consistently strong. Even when he made mistakes they were the kind that came from pushing limits instead of misunderstanding the machine.

Everyone noticed.

Liam noticed most of all.

And the thing was, it was not jealousy.

That would have been easier to deal with.

Jealousy would have been familiar territory. Drivers competed with their teammates all the time. It was practically part of the job description. Being frustrated when someone beat you on the timing sheets was normal. Being annoyed when the new guy adapted faster than expected was normal too.

But Liam was not annoyed.

If anything, watching Arvid drive made something in his chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with rivalry.

He knew Arvid was talented. That much had been clear long before they ended up sharing a garage. The younger driver had built a reputation on raw pace and stubborn determination, the kind of combination that made people pay attention even if they tried not to.

And now that Liam saw it up close, it was even more obvious.

Arvid deserved to be here.

Deserved the seat, deserved the attention, deserved the quiet nods of approval from engineers when another strong run appeared on the screen.

Liam believed that completely.

Which made the strange knot of feelings in his chest even harder to explain.

Because admiration was supposed to be simple.

You respected someone’s skill. You appreciated their work ethic. Maybe you learned from them if you were lucky. That was the usual pattern inside a racing team.

What Liam was feeling did not fit neatly into that pattern.

It started small.

A moment during a debrief where Arvid leaned forward in his chair, explaining something about the rear balance through the final sector. Liam had found himself paying attention not just to the explanation, but to the quiet confidence in Arvid’s voice while he spoke.

Another moment out in the garage where Arvid had climbed out of the car after a particularly strong stint, helmet tucked under one arm, hair damp from sweat and sticking up in uneven angles. Liam had caught himself staring for half a second too long before quickly looking away.

Then there were the smaller things that kept piling up.

The way Arvid laughed when one of the mechanics made a joke over the radio.

The way he tapped his fingers against the table while waiting for data to load during a meeting.

The way his eyes lit up when the engineers told him he had found another tenth in the middle sector.

Little details.

Too many little details.

At first Liam had brushed them off. Told himself he was just paying attention to his teammate because that was what drivers did. Teammates studied each other. Compared driving styles. Looked for ways to improve.

Perfectly normal.

Except Liam had never studied a teammate like this before.

And he had definitely never felt this strange twist in his stomach every time Arvid’s name climbed above his on the timing sheets.

Not anger.

Not resentment.

Something softer. Something warmer. Something that made Liam feel like he had accidentally stepped into a conversation he was not supposed to be part of.

Which was exactly why he kept trying not to think about it.

Thinking about it made things worse.

Because every time the thought started forming in the back of his mind, it came with the uncomfortable realization that this was not just admiration.

It was something else.

Something that did not belong in the middle of a racing season.

Something that definitely did not belong between teammates who were supposed to be focused on points and performance instead of whatever the hell this was.

Liam pushed harder on track to make up for the way his thoughts kept drifting.

If he could not control his brain, at least he could control the throttle.

He stayed longer in the simulator after testing sessions ended. He reviewed telemetry until the numbers blurred together. When he went out for practice runs he pushed the car to the edge of grip and sometimes a little past it, searching for lap time like it might solve everything.

Sometimes it worked.

Sometimes it did not.

Because no matter how hard Liam pushed, Arvid kept doing well.

Sometimes better.

And again, that should have bothered him in the normal competitive way.

But instead of frustration, Liam mostly felt something dangerously close to pride when Arvid nailed a perfect lap.

Which was.. weird.

Really weird.

Drivers were not supposed to feel proud when their teammate beat them.

That was the kind of emotion that belonged somewhere else entirely.

Liam knew that.

Which was exactly why he tried so hard to bury it.

The last thing he wanted was for Arvid to notice.

Because Arvid noticed things.

He was observant in that quiet way some people were. Not overly talkative, not nosy, but aware of the small shifts in mood around him. Liam had already caught him glancing over more than once when Liam went quiet during meetings or flinched slightly at an unexpected noise.

Nothing obvious.

Just quick looks.

Quick enough that Liam could pretend he had imagined them.

Still, the possibility lingered.

And the thought of Arvid realizing what was going on inside Liam’s head made his stomach drop.

Not because Arvid would react badly, necessarily.

Liam did not even know how Arvid would react.

The problem was that Liam did not want him to know at all.

Because whatever this strange, complicated feeling was, it had no place here.

Not in the garage.

Not in the middle of a season that had not even properly started yet.

Not between two drivers who were supposed to be focused on winning races.

So Liam kept pretending everything was normal.

He forced himself to hold eye contact a little longer during conversations. He tried not to flinch when someone clapped him on the shoulder. He laughed at the right moments and nodded through meetings like nothing in his head was out of place.

Most of the time, he almost believed the act himself.

Almost.

But every now and then Arvid would walk into the garage, helmet in hand, talking animatedly with one of the engineers about something he had just discovered in the data.

And Liam would feel that same strange pull in his chest.

That same quiet realization settling into the back of his mind.

This was not just admiration.

It was something else.

Something unfamiliar.

Something complicated.

Something Liam really, really hoped Arvid never figured out was there.

of course arvid noticed. liam is not sure why he would ever expect arvid not to notice something like this. the guy notices everything. he notices small imperfections during laps, the kind that no one else brings up until hours later during data review. he notices when liam is a tenth slower through a corner even when the lap time still looks respectable. he notices when the engineers hesitate for half a second before answering a question. he notices when someone in the garage is unsure about a setup change but says yes anyway.

he notices everything about everyone.

that fact alone should have prepared liam for this moment, but it still makes something uncomfortable settle in his chest.

it reminds him, quietly but clearly, that he is not special.

arvid notices everyone. that is just the way he is wired. the way he walks through the paddock with that calm, sharp awareness of everything around him. liam just happens to be one of the many things within arvid’s line of sight. one more detail among dozens that arvid keeps track of without effort.

arvid is not focused on him.

he has more important priorities than that.

his performance. the championship fight that everyone keeps whispering about. the engineers constantly surrounding him with data. the expectations that follow him everywhere he goes. the young prodigy that everyone seems to agree is destined for something bigger.

compared to that, worrying about his teammate should not rank very high on the list.

especially when that teammate is older.

older, and still unable to score more points than him.

the thought leaves a bitter taste in liam’s mouth, the kind that lingers even when he tries to ignore it. it is not like he has not noticed the numbers. everyone notices the numbers. they are displayed on every screen, written in every article, repeated in every interview.

points. standings. comparisons.

liam knows exactly where he sits in relation to arvid.

not on the same level.

it is a simple fact that he has had to accept over the course of the season, though acceptance does not mean it sits comfortably with him. it never really has. liam has never been the most confident person to begin with. confidence comes in waves for him, sometimes strong, sometimes barely there at all.

lately it feels like the tide has pulled back.

so when he feels arvid’s gaze linger on him across a room, it does not exactly help.

liam notices it more often than he wants to admit.

in the garage, when the engineers are gathered around a monitor and someone is explaining a telemetry graph that looks more complicated than it actually is. liam can feel it then. that quiet attention from somewhere behind him. he does not need to turn around to know who it is.

in the paddock, when conversations blur together and the noise of the crowd becomes background static. sometimes he catches it out of the corner of his eye. arvid standing a few steps away, watching him with that thoughtful look he gets when he is piecing something together.

in the hospitality area, when everyone is pretending to relax between sessions. liam might be scrolling through his phone or staring at nothing in particular, and he can feel the weight of someone’s attention before he even looks up.

it is always the same.

arvid.

the younger man does not stare in a rude way. it is not intense or confrontational. if anything it is careful. observant. like he is trying to figure something out without asking the question directly.

liam can tell he is worried.

that part is obvious.

the thing liam does not understand is why.

they are not exceptionally close. not really. they get along, sure. they joke around sometimes, share a few conversations during travel days, the occasional comment about racing lines or tire wear or something equally mundane.

but it is not the kind of friendship liam had with isack.

that had been different.

with isack everything had felt easy. natural. the kind of connection that formed without either of them trying very hard. they could spend hours talking about nothing important at all, filling the silence with stupid jokes and pointless arguments about games or music or whatever else came to mind.

with arvid it is quieter.

more careful.

not distant exactly, but not effortless either.

they are teammates. they are friends in the way teammates usually are. they work together, they share information, they laugh sometimes when the mood is right.

but it is not the kind of closeness that explains the way arvid keeps watching him lately.

which is why liam cannot quite figure out what the younger man is so worked up about.

it is not like liam has done anything dramatic.

he has just been.. off.

a little quieter than usual. a little less sharp during meetings. a little slower to respond when someone asks him something. nothing that should set off alarms for someone like arvid, especially when the entire paddock is full of people dealing with their own problems.

and yet arvid notices.

of course he does.

liam sometimes wonders if the younger driver realizes how obvious it is. that lingering attention. the small pauses in conversation when liam walks into the room. the subtle way arvid seems to position himself nearby without making it look intentional.

maybe arvid thinks he is being discreet.

maybe he thinks liam does not notice.

liam notices.

he notices the same way arvid notices everything else.

the strange part is that liam cannot bring himself to be annoyed by it.

if anything, there is a quiet warmth hidden somewhere beneath the confusion. something small but persistent that settles in his chest whenever he catches arvid looking at him.

it feels.. nice.

that thought is embarrassing enough that liam refuses to examine it too closely, but it lingers anyway.

it is nice to know that he is on arvid’s mind.

even if the reason is concern.

even if the attention comes from worry instead of anything else.

liam would be lying if he said he did not like it.

he likes the way arvid looks at him, the way his focus sharpens slightly when liam starts speaking during a meeting. he likes the way the younger man seems to notice when liam slips out of a conversation early. he likes the way arvid asks quiet questions that no one else bothers to ask.

are you alright?

how did that run feel?

you seemed a bit tired earlier.

simple things.

normal things.

but they are directed at him.

that alone makes them stand out.

liam is not used to being the person someone keeps an eye on. usually he is the one fading slightly into the background while louder personalities fill the space around him. he has never really minded that role, but this is different.

this is attention.

specific attention.

arvid’s attention.

liam knows it is not for the reason he would want, not really. arvid is not staring because he thinks liam is fascinating or impressive or anything remotely flattering like that. he is staring because he is concerned.

because he thinks something might be wrong.

still, liam cannot help the quiet flicker of satisfaction that comes with it.

he will admit that much to himself, even if he would never say it out loud.

he likes the fact that arvid looks at him.

likes the way the younger driver’s gaze finds him in a crowded room without hesitation.

likes the strange feeling of being noticed by someone who notices everything.

even if the reason behind it is not the one he would choose.

“you alright, liam?”

the voice comes from behind him.

liam does not turn around right away. he does not need to. he could pick that voice out of a crowded paddock, through the noise of mechanics shouting and engines starting and journalists talking too loudly into microphones. he could recognize it even if the words were different.

it is arvid.

it is always arvid.

liam is not sure when that became a rule, but at some point it did. when someone asks if he is alright, when someone actually sounds like they mean it instead of filling silence with polite concern, it is usually arvid standing a few steps behind him.

liam did not even hear the younger man approach. that is not unusual. arvid moves quietly when he wants to, slipping into spaces like he belongs there long before anyone realizes he arrived. liam has noticed that before. he has also noticed that arvid tends to show up at the exact moment liam would prefer not to be observed.

it almost feels intentional sometimes.

liam keeps his eyes on the floor for another second, staring at the thin line where the tiles meet the wall. the motorhome hallway is quiet this time of day. most of the team is still out in the garage or halfway through a meeting. the faint sound of equipment being moved somewhere outside filters through the walls, distant and dull.

behind him, arvid waits.

he does not repeat the question. he rarely does.

liam exhales slowly before finally glancing up.

he turns just enough to see him.

arvid is leaning casually against the doorway, arms loosely crossed, posture relaxed in a way that somehow still looks attentive. he always looks like that. calm. composed. observant in that quiet way that makes people feel like they are being studied even when the conversation is about something simple.

liam has gotten used to it.

or at least he has gotten used to pretending it does not affect him.

he can usually tell when arvid is nearby even before the younger man says anything. it is difficult to explain. sometimes it is the shift in atmosphere when someone new walks into a room. sometimes it is the faint sound of footsteps that everyone else ignores. sometimes it is just a strange instinct that tells liam he is being watched by someone who notices too much.

either way, it is rarely a surprise.

liam meets his gaze.

there is concern there.

of course there is.

arvid does not bother hiding it.

liam sometimes wonders if anyone else notices that about him. the way his expressions give him away when he is thinking too hard about something. the way his eyes narrow slightly when he is trying to figure someone out.

right now they are fixed on liam.

studying him.

liam gives a small nod.

“yeah,” he says.

his voice comes out calm, steady, exactly the way he intended it to.

“i’m fine.”

he even adds a quiet hum afterward, like the question barely required an answer at all. like the conversation could end there without any further discussion.

casual.

simple.

normal.

liam has gotten good at sounding normal.

what he does not do is mention the way his thoughts have been circling the same problem for days. he does not mention the dull weight that settles in his chest whenever he looks at the championship standings. he does not mention how every mistake during practice seems to echo louder than it should.

he definitely does not mention the problem arvid himself has created.

that part is harder to explain.

it would be easier if arvid had simply ignored him like everyone else tends to do when someone is having a rough stretch. people in this sport are good at looking the other way. everyone is focused on their own performance, their own results, their own problems.

that is the normal way things work.

but arvid does not follow that rule.

instead he keeps watching.

keeps asking small questions that seem harmless but somehow manage to linger in liam’s mind long after the conversation ends.

it has created a strange sort of dilemma in liam’s head.

one that makes absolutely no sense when he tries to explain it to himself.

part of him wants arvid closer.

closer conversations. closer proximity. the quiet reassurance that someone is paying attention when everything else feels like it is slipping slightly out of place.

liam likes the way arvid checks on him. he likes the fact that someone has noticed the difference between the version of him that jokes with the engineers and the version that sits alone for a few minutes longer than necessary.

he likes that someone cares enough to ask.

but the other part of him wants the exact opposite.

distance.

space.

because every time arvid looks at him like this, with that steady concern that refuses to fade, it reminds liam of everything he is trying not to think about.

it reminds him that someone can see through the act.

that someone is paying close enough attention to realize he is not doing nearly as well as he pretends.

so the result is a strange tug of war inside his own head.

closer.

farther away.

both at the same time.

liam keeps his expression neutral as he looks back at arvid. he has had plenty of practice controlling his face during interviews, during press conferences, during those awkward media sessions where journalists try to read deeper meaning into every word.

it helps now.

because if he lets his guard slip for even a second, he knows exactly what will happen.

his eyes will soften.

they always do.

it is subtle, something most people would never notice. but liam knows the difference between the way he looks at everyone else and the way his expression changes when it lands on arvid.

it is frustrating.

unhelpful.

dangerous, in a quiet emotional way that he would rather not think about.

so he keeps his tone light instead.

“just tired,” he adds after a moment, shrugging one shoulder slightly like the explanation should be enough to close the topic.

arvid does not immediately respond.

that is another thing liam has learned about him.

arvid rarely accepts the first answer he is given.

the younger man tilts his head just slightly, still watching him with that patient expression that suggests he is deciding whether or not to push the conversation further.

liam pretends not to notice.

he leans back against the wall beside him, crossing his arms loosely, mirroring arvid’s relaxed posture without really thinking about it.

“long day,” liam continues.

another simple explanation.

another easy excuse.

it is not even technically a lie.

the days are always long.

arvid studies him for another second.

liam keeps his face calm.

no hesitation.

no cracks in the act.

inside his chest, though, things are not nearly as composed.

because the truth is that he is not alright.

not even close.

his confidence has been wearing thin for weeks now, eroding slowly with every small mistake and every comparison that places arvid a little higher, a little faster, a little more promising.

liam ran out of faith in himself a while ago.

he just never told anyone.

yet somehow arvid seems to sense it anyway.

and that is the real problem.

because if arvid keeps paying attention like this, if he keeps standing in doorways and asking quiet questions in that steady voice, liam is not sure how long he will be able to keep pretending.

for now, though, he just gives another small nod.

“seriously,” he says.

“i’m fine.”

and he hopes the words sound convincing enough to end the conversation before arvid decides to look any closer.

Arvid just narrowed his gaze on Liam, the kind of slow, deliberate look that made it clear he was not fooled for even a second. It was not dramatic or exaggerated. He did not scoff or laugh or immediately call Liam out. He simply looked at him, eyes slightly narrowed, studying him with the quiet patience of someone who already knew the answer and was just waiting to see if the other person would admit it.

They both knew he was lying.

Liam knew it the moment the words had left his mouth, knew it in the small pause that followed, knew it in the way Arvid’s expression shifted just barely enough to show that he had caught it too. But knowing that did not mean Liam planned on admitting anything. If anything, it only made him more determined not to. Admitting it would mean explaining, and explaining meant talking, and talking meant digging into things he had no interest in digging into right now.

So he stayed quiet.

Arvid seemed to realize that as well. There was a certain acceptance in the way his shoulders settled, like he had already reached the conclusion that Liam was not going to change his story no matter how long he stared at him.

The silence between them stretched for a moment.

It was not particularly tense, but it was not comfortable either. It had a sort of stillness to it, the quiet kind that lingers after someone says something that both people know is not entirely true.

Liam kept his eyes forward, staring at nothing in particular. Somewhere in the distance a few voices drifted by, people talking about something he did not bother trying to understand. The air felt a little cool, brushing lightly against the side of his face. He focused on that instead of looking back at Arvid.

Then Arvid spoke.

“Can I sit?”

His voice was casual, almost like the question had nothing to do with the conversation that had just happened. He pointed to the spot beside Liam as he said it, a small, simple gesture.

Liam paused.

The question itself caught him off guard for a second, not because it was strange, but because it did not really need to be asked. Arvid standing there awkwardly waiting for permission felt slightly unnecessary.

Could he sit?

Of course he could sit.

Arvid did not need Liam’s permission for something like that. Liam had no authority over the space around him. It was not his bench, not his chair, not even a spot he had claimed in any meaningful way. Anyone could sit there if they wanted to.

And even if Liam had disliked him, truly disliked him, it still would not have made much difference. He would not stop Arvid from sitting down. He was not the kind of person who would start an argument over something that small.

So technically the question was pointless.

But Liam understood why he asked anyway.

It was the politeness of it.

Arvid had always been like that. Not overly formal, not stiff or careful in the way some people were, but polite in small, quiet ways that most people barely noticed. Asking before sitting. Waiting half a second before interrupting someone. Holding doors without making a big deal about it.

It was the kind of politeness that felt almost automatic, like he did it without really thinking.

Liam blinked once, shifting slightly where he sat.

“Yeah,” he said.

He nodded as he spoke, the movement small and casual, like the answer was obvious.

Even though there had already been plenty of room, Liam scooted over a little anyway. It was not a big movement, just a subtle shift to the side, the kind people make out of habit more than necessity. The bench had never been crowded to begin with.

Arvid noticed, though.

Liam could tell because Arvid glanced down briefly before sitting, like he was acknowledging the gesture without commenting on it.

He lowered himself onto the bench beside Liam, careful and unhurried. The wood creaked softly under the added weight, the sound quiet enough that it almost blended into the background noise around them.

For a moment neither of them said anything.

Arvid leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees. His hands hung loosely between them, fingers loosely interlocked. He looked out ahead instead of directly at Liam, which Liam appreciated more than he would have admitted out loud.

It gave him space.

Liam kept his gaze forward too.

Now that Arvid was sitting beside him instead of standing there watching him, the tension had shifted into something quieter. It was not gone, exactly, but it felt less sharp. More like a lingering awareness than an active pressure.

Liam wondered briefly if Arvid was going to bring the lie up again.

He seemed like the type who might. Not aggressively, not accusingly, but calmly, like he was asking about the weather. Just persistent enough that ignoring him would feel more awkward than answering honestly.

But Arvid did not say anything.

Not right away.

Instead he looked out at the same vague point Liam had been staring at earlier, like he had decided to give the conversation a moment to breathe before pushing it anywhere else.

Liam shifted his hands in his lap, rubbing his thumb lightly against the side of his index finger. It was a small movement, absentminded more than nervous.

He could feel Arvid’s presence beside him in that quiet way people become aware of someone sitting close by. Not intrusive, just noticeable. The faint rustle of fabric when Arvid adjusted slightly, the quiet sound of him breathing.

After a few seconds, Liam glanced sideways.

Arvid’s expression looked thoughtful, though not particularly serious. His eyes were focused somewhere in the distance, brows relaxed.

It did not look like someone preparing for confrontation.

That surprised Liam a little.

“You didn’t have to move,” Arvid said after a moment.

His voice was calm, almost conversational, like he was commenting on something small and ordinary.

Liam shrugged slightly.

“Just making room.”

“There was already room,” Arvid pointed out.

Liam did not argue with that.

Instead he leaned back a little, resting his hands against the edge of the bench.

“Yeah,” he said.

Arvid let out a quiet breath that almost sounded like a laugh, though not quite.

The silence returned again, but this time it felt easier.

Not comfortable exactly, but manageable.

Liam wondered if Arvid was deliberately avoiding the earlier conversation, or if he had simply decided it was not worth pressing. With him it was sometimes hard to tell. He had a way of letting things sit quietly instead of dragging them out.

Still, Liam had not forgotten the look Arvid gave him earlier.

That narrow gaze that said clearly, without words, that he had not believed a single thing Liam had said.

Liam suspected Arvid had not forgotten either.

But for now neither of them mentioned it.

“..Qualifiers soon,” Arvid mumbles.

His voice is quiet, almost like he had not meant to say it out loud at all. The words drift into the air between them without much force behind them, more like a passing thought than the start of a real conversation.

Liam nods once.

It is a small movement, simple acknowledgement rather than a real response. He hears the words, understands them, but there is not much else to say about it. Qualifiers soon. That was just a fact. It had been a fact for days now, hanging around the team like a low cloud everyone kept glancing up at but never really talking about.

There was nothing Liam could add to it.

If he was honest, he did not want to add anything to it.

He keeps his gaze forward, watching something vague in the distance without really focusing on it. A couple of people pass by somewhere ahead, voices blending together in the background. The world around them keeps moving in that casual way it always does, like nothing important is coming up at all.

Arvid shifts slightly beside him.

“Are you nervous?”

The question is casual enough, but Liam still pauses.

He turns the word over in his head for a moment.

Nervous.

Was he nervous?

He had not been nervous. At least he does not think he had been. Not before Arvid said that. Before that moment, everything had felt sort of dull and distant, like the upcoming race existed somewhere far away where it could not quite reach him yet.

But the second Arvid said the word, something in Liam’s chest tightened slightly.

It is not dramatic. It is not the kind of panic that makes your heart race or your hands shake. It is smaller than that, quieter. A slow tightening in his stomach that had not been there a second ago.

Because the word nervous does not just mean nervous.

It means qualifiers.

It means expectations.

It means the team watching.

It means the clock.

It means that moment when the race ends and everyone looks up to see where you finished.

And Liam has been in that moment enough times to know how it usually goes.

Just another race where he comes up short.

Just another race where he disappoints his team.

The thought sits heavy in his chest for a second before he can push it away.

And then another thought slips in behind it.

Disappointing Arvid.

That one stings more than he expects it to.

Liam can handle letting the team down. He has done it enough that it almost feels routine now, like something people quietly accept after a while. But Arvid is different.

Arvid still believes in him.

For reasons Liam does not fully understand, Arvid still seems to think he is capable of something better than what he has been doing lately. Like he is waiting for Liam to suddenly prove everyone wrong.

The idea of being the person who crushes that last bit of hope makes Liam’s chest tighten again.

He looks down briefly at his hands, then back up again.

“Not really,” he says.

The lie comes easily.

It slides out of his mouth with the same casual tone he uses for everything else, like the answer is obvious. Like there was never any question about it.

Liam does not mention the tight feeling sitting in his stomach now.

He does not mention the way his thoughts keep drifting to the finish line and everything that happens after it.

He does not mention the quiet fear that the moment the race ends, the world is going to feel like it’s collapsing around him again.

And he definitely does not say anything about the way he sometimes feels completely useless lately.

Instead he just shrugs a little, like it is not a big deal.

For a moment there is silence again.

Then Liam glances sideways.

“Are you?”

He asks the question lightly, but he is actually curious about the answer.

Arvid shifts slightly where he is sitting.

It is not a big movement, just a small adjustment of his posture. He leans forward a little more, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands loosely clasped together.

For a second he does not answer.

Liam wonders if he is going to brush it off the same way Liam just did.

But Arvid does not seem like the kind of person who lies about things like that.

“Yeah,” Arvid says.

The answer is simple.

No hesitation, no attempt to soften it.

Just yeah.

Liam blinks slightly.

He had not actually expected Arvid to admit it that easily.

Most people on the team liked to pretend they were not nervous about things like qualifiers. They acted relaxed, confident, like the race was just another run and nothing more. Even when it was obvious that everyone cared a little too much about the outcome.

But Arvid does not bother pretending.

He stares ahead as he says it, his voice calm but honest.

Liam studies him for a moment.

“You?” Liam says after a second. “Nervous?”

There is a faint hint of disbelief in his tone, though it is not meant to sound insulting.

Arvid has always seemed steady in a way Liam never quite managed to be. Focused. Consistent. The kind of person who shows up to every race looking like he already knows exactly what he is going to do.

Arvid shrugs slightly.

“Yeah,” he repeats.

This time there is a faint smile at the corner of his mouth, though it does not quite reach his eyes.

“Qualifiers matter.”

Liam lets out a quiet breath through his nose.

That was true.

Qualifiers mattered more than most races.

They decided who kept going and who did not. Who got another chance and who was quietly left behind. It was the kind of race people remembered for a long time after it was over.

Liam leans back slightly, resting his hands on the edge of the bench.

The wood presses cool against his palms.

“I guess,” he mutters.

Arvid glances over at him.

“You guess?”

Liam shrugs again.

He does not feel like explaining the complicated mess of thoughts sitting in his head. It is easier to act indifferent.

“It’s just another race,” he says.

The moment the words leave his mouth, he knows Arvid does not believe them.

He can tell from the look he gets in response.

Not judgmental.

Just knowing.

Arvid tilts his head slightly, studying him the same way he had earlier when Liam lied about something else.

“You don’t believe that,” Arvid says.

Liam looks away.

“Sure I do.”

Another lie.

But he says it with enough confidence that someone else might have accepted it.

Arvid stays quiet for a second.

Then he sighs softly and looks forward again.

“I’m nervous,” he says again, more thoughtfully this time. “Not because I think I’ll do bad.”

Liam glances back at him.

Arvid continues staring ahead as he speaks.

“I’m nervous because I care about it.”

That answer sits in the air between them for a moment.

Liam does not respond right away.

He watches a group of people walking across the distance in front of them, their voices carrying faintly through the air.

Caring.

That was the dangerous part.

Caring meant there was something to lose.

Liam presses his lips together slightly.

He wonders if that is part of the problem for him lately.

Maybe he stopped letting himself care as much.

Or maybe he cares too much and just pretends he does not.

He is not sure which one is worse.

“You’ll do fine,” Liam says after a moment.

Arvid glances over again.

“You too.”

Liam huffs quietly.

“Yeah. Sure.”

The doubt slips into his voice before he can stop it.

Arvid notices.

Of course he does.

He studies Liam for a moment longer, like he is trying to figure out how to respond to that.

But in the end, he does not push.

Instead he leans back slightly and stretches his legs out in front of him.

The two of them fall quiet again, sitting side by side with the thought of qualifiers hanging somewhere above them.

Neither of them says it out loud again.

But now that the word has been spoken, it lingers there anyway.

“You..”

Arvid starts to say something, but the word trails off before it can turn into a full sentence.

Liam notices immediately.

He glances over just as Arvid hesitates, the younger man’s voice cutting short like he had run into something invisible. Arvid’s gaze drops down toward his hands instead of staying forward, and for a second he just sits there, quiet, like he is reconsidering whether he should say whatever it was he was about to say.

Liam waits.

He does not rush him or ask what he meant. He simply watches him from the side, patient in that casual way that suggests he is not particularly invested in the answer. At least that is the impression he gives off.

Inside, he is a little more curious than he lets on.

Arvid is not usually the type to stop mid sentence like that. When he decides to speak, he normally just says whatever is on his mind and lets the conversation go where it goes. Seeing him pause like this makes Liam wonder what exactly he had been about to ask.

Arvid shifts slightly where he is sitting.

He rubs his thumb across the side of his hand for a moment, eyes still lowered, before he finally looks back up.

Then he speaks again.

“You sure you’re alright?”

His voice is quieter this time.

Not dramatically quiet, not whispered, but softer than it usually is. There is something careful about the way he says it, like he is trying not to push too hard while still asking something that matters to him.

For a moment, Liam does not respond.

The question lands heavier than it should.

It is such a simple thing to ask. Just a few ordinary words that most people would answer without thinking twice. But something about hearing it directed at him makes Liam’s chest tighten slightly.

Are you sure you’re alright?

It is not a question he hears very often.

In fact, the moment Arvid says it, Liam realizes he cannot really remember the last time someone asked him that and actually meant it.

Most people do not ask Liam things like that.

They might talk to him about races, about training, about plans for the next meet. Sometimes they complain about workouts or joke about the coach or argue about times and rankings. Conversations that stay comfortably on the surface.

But questions like that?

Questions that require someone to actually look at him and wonder how he is doing?

Those almost never happen.

Except with Arvid.

Arvid is the only one who asks.

The realization sits quietly in Liam’s mind for a moment, and something in his expression falters before he can stop it.

His eyes soften slightly.

It is subtle, but it is there.

For just a second, the usual guarded look he carries slips away, replaced by something more uncertain. His face twists faintly, like he is not sure what to do with the feeling that comes with being asked that question.

He is sure he looks surprised.

Maybe more than surprised.

Probably something closer to exposed.

The thought makes his stomach twist again.

He does not like people seeing too much.

Especially not the things he spends most of his time trying to keep hidden.

He realizes, distantly, that this might be the closest anyone has come to seeing how he actually feels in a long time.

That realization lasts about half a second.

Then Liam catches himself.

The change happens quickly.

The softness in his eyes disappears as he forces his expression back into something neutral. The small twist in his face smooths out until there is nothing left except the same calm indifference he usually shows.

If Arvid noticed the moment before, Liam pretends it never happened.

He clears his throat slightly and looks away for a second, like the question had not affected him at all.

“Yeah,” he starts to say.

But the word does not come out.

His mouth opens.

Nothing follows.

The answer gets stuck somewhere in his throat.

Liam frowns slightly, not out of confusion but out of frustration with himself. He was planning to brush the question off the same way he brushes off everything else. A quick answer, maybe a shrug, something simple that would close the topic before it could turn into something deeper.

But for some reason the words refuse to cooperate.

His throat feels tight.

He swallows once, trying again.

Still nothing.

It is ridiculous, honestly.

It is not like he does not know what to say. He has the answer ready. The same answer he always gives.

I’m fine.

I’m alright.

Nothing’s wrong.

The problem is not knowing the words.

The problem is getting them out.

Liam presses his lips together slightly.

The silence between them stretches.

He can feel Arvid looking at him now.

Not staring aggressively or demanding an answer. Just watching him with that same quiet attention he always seems to have when something matters.

Liam hates that a little.

Because it makes it harder to pretend nothing is happening.

He glances down at his hands, trying to gather himself for another attempt.

Just say it.

It should be easy.

But the moment he opens his mouth again, the tight feeling in his throat returns.

Like something inside him is refusing to let the lie pass through.

The realization irritates him.

He shuts his mouth again.

From the outside, the whole thing probably looks strange.

Arvid asked a simple question, and Liam just sits there staring at nothing instead of answering.

Liam rubs his thumb along the edge of the bench slowly, focusing on the rough texture of the wood under his skin.

He still does not say anything.

Eventually he exhales quietly and lets his shoulders settle.

If he cannot get the words out, then there is no point forcing it.

So he stays silent.

That silence, it turns out, says more than any answer would have.

Arvid watches him for another second or two.

Then he nods slightly to himself.

It is not a dramatic reaction. No sudden realization, no sharp comment.

Just a small shift in his posture and a faint understanding in his expression.

That seemed to be all the confirmation Arvid needed.

He looks forward again, resting his elbows on his knees.

Liam notices the change immediately.

“You gonna say something?” Liam mutters after a moment, his voice quieter than usual.

Arvid shrugs slightly.

“I think you already did.”

Liam frowns faintly.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Exactly.”

The response is calm.

Too calm.

Liam lets out a slow breath through his nose and leans back against the bench, staring up at the sky for a moment.

He wants to argue with that.

He wants to say that Arvid is reading too much into it, that he just did not feel like answering right away. That silence does not mean anything.

But the truth is, he knows Arvid is not wrong.

Sometimes not answering is an answer.

And the fact that Liam could not bring himself to say he was alright probably says more than he would ever willingly admit.

They sit there for a moment longer without speaking.

The quiet between them feels different now.

Not uncomfortable exactly.

Just heavier.

Liam eventually lowers his gaze again, staring straight ahead.

“You worry too much,” he mutters.

Arvid lets out a small breath that might be a laugh.

“Maybe.”

But Liam can still feel the weight of that question sitting somewhere in his chest.

Are you sure you’re alright?

He never actually answered it.

And somehow, that feels like the most honest response he could have given.

“I’m here,” Arvid says quietly.

The words come out simple and steady, like he had been thinking about them for a while before deciding to say them. There is nothing dramatic about the way he speaks, no attempt to make the moment feel heavier than it already does. Still, something about the tone of his voice makes Liam glance over at him again.

Arvid is looking forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands loosely clasped together. His shoulders are slightly hunched, the way they usually are when he is thinking about something serious.

“If you ever want to talk.”

Liam reacts almost immediately.

His mind jumps straight to the safest place it can find, the same place it always goes whenever conversations start drifting toward uncomfortable territory. He inhales slightly, already preparing a response that will steer things somewhere easier.

They can talk.

They always talk.

Just not about the things Arvid probably means.

Liam opens his mouth.

“Well, the stats from last race were—”

But Arvid speaks before he can finish.

“You know I don’t mean about the car.”

The interruption is not harsh. Arvid’s voice stays calm, almost patient, but the words land firmly enough to stop Liam mid sentence.

Liam closes his mouth again.

Arvid finally glances over at him.

“I mean if you ever need someone to listen to you.”

For a second, neither of them moves.

Liam feels something uncomfortable settle in his chest again, something warm and tight all at once. He does not like where this conversation is going. Talking about the car, about race times, about strategies and lap numbers, those things are easy. They sit neatly on the surface where no one has to dig too deep.

But Arvid is not interested in the surface right now.

Arvid sighs softly.

It is not an annoyed sound, more like the quiet exhale of someone who already expected this reaction.

“You’re not as cold as that act you put on makes you seem.”

The words catch Liam completely off guard.

He stares at Arvid for a moment, blinking slightly, like he needs a second to process what he just heard.

His first reaction is disbelief.

The second is embarrassment.

And unfortunately, his body reacts to the second one faster than he would like.

Liam can feel warmth rushing up into his cheeks before he has time to stop it.

He looks away quickly, turning his head just enough that Arvid cannot see his face directly anymore.

“It’s not an act,” Liam mutters.

The words come out sharper than he intends, defensive in a way that makes it obvious the comment hit somewhere sensitive.

“I don’t need to—”

“Yes. You do, Liam.”

Arvid cuts him off again.

This time there is something firmer in his voice.

Not angry.

Not frustrated.

Just certain.

Liam turns back toward him immediately, brows pulling together slightly.

Arvid does not look away.

“When you want to talk about it,” he continues, holding Liam’s gaze, “I’m here.”

He pauses for half a second before adding the rest.

“I want to be.”

The last part is quieter.

That sentence hangs between them for a moment.

Liam does not know what to do with it.

Most people offer help the way they offer polite conversation. They say things like that because it is the right thing to say. Because it fills the silence or makes them sound supportive.

But the way Arvid says it does not feel like that.

It feels genuine.

That makes it harder to dismiss.

Liam shifts slightly on the bench, leaning back and resting his hands against the wood behind him. He stares out ahead again, avoiding Arvid’s eyes now.

“You’re making it sound like something’s wrong with me,” he says after a moment.

Arvid shrugs.

“Something is wrong with everyone.”

“That’s not comforting.”

“It’s not supposed to be.”

Liam lets out a quiet breath through his nose.

He hates how calm Arvid sounds.

It makes it impossible to argue properly.

For a few seconds neither of them speaks.

Liam’s mind drifts back to what Arvid said earlier.

You’re not as cold as that act you put on makes you seem.

The words bother him more than he wants to admit.

Because the truth is, he has spent a long time convincing people that he does not care about much. That he is distant, hard to read, unaffected by things that bother everyone else.

It makes life easier.

If people think you are cold, they stop expecting warmth.

If people think you do not care, they stop looking for signs that you do.

It is simpler that way.

But apparently it is not working as well as he thought.

“You think I’m pretending,” Liam says quietly.

Arvid tilts his head slightly.

“I think you’re hiding.”

“That’s the same thing.”

“No,” Arvid replies calmly. “It’s not.”

Liam glances over again, skeptical.

Arvid continues before he can argue.

“Pretending means you’re trying to be someone else,” he says. “Hiding just means you don’t want people to see certain parts of you.”

Liam stares at him for a second.

“That’s very philosophical for someone sitting on a bench who supposed to be talking about racing.”

Arvid smiles faintly.

“I’ve had time to think.”

“About me?”

“Sometimes.”

Liam shakes his head slightly, looking away again.

“That’s weird.”

“It’s called caring.”

The word lands softly but heavily.

Liam’s jaw tightens a little.

He does not respond right away.

Instead he watches a car pass slowly down the road in the distance, following it with his eyes until it disappears around the corner.

“You worry too much,” he mutters eventually.

Arvid does not argue.

“Probably.”

Another quiet moment passes.

Liam rubs the back of his neck, trying to shake off the strange feeling building in his chest. Conversations like this make him restless. They pull him into emotional territory he would much rather avoid.

Still, part of him cannot ignore what Arvid said.

I’m here.

I want to be.

No one says things like that unless they mean them.

Liam exhales slowly.

“You really think I need someone to talk to,” he says.

It is not quite a question.

More like a reluctant observation.

Arvid nods once.

“Yeah.”

Liam lets out a small huff of laughter.

“You sound very confident about that.”

“I am.”

“And if I don’t?”

Arvid shrugs again.

“Then you don’t.”

The simplicity of the answer surprises Liam.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Arvid glances at him again, expression relaxed but sincere.

“I’m not forcing you to do anything,” he says. “I’m just letting you know the option exists.”

Liam studies him quietly.

There is no pressure in Arvid’s tone.

No expectation.

Just the offer.

After a moment Liam looks forward again.

His cheeks have cooled down by now, but the faint embarrassment from earlier still lingers somewhere under the surface.

“You’re annoying,” he says under his breath.

Arvid smiles slightly.

“I get that a lot.”

They sit there in silence for a while after that.

The kind of silence that is not entirely uncomfortable, but not completely relaxed either.

Eventually Liam speaks again.

“...Thanks.”

The word comes out so quietly it almost blends into the air.

For a second Arvid does not react.

Then he nods once.

“Anytime.”

And somehow, despite how much Liam tries to ignore it, the offer stays with him long after the conversation moves on.

Liam does not take the offer.

Not that night.

When the conversation finally fades and the two of them part ways, Liam carries Arvid’s words with him, but he does not act on them. He does not turn around and say what has been sitting in his chest for weeks. He does not suddenly decide to open up and explain everything that has been weighing on him.

Instead, he does what he always does.

He moves on.

The next morning comes like any other. Training, meetings, brief conversations in hallways, the quiet routine of preparation that fills the days leading up to races. Liam throws himself into that routine easily, almost gratefully, because routine does not ask questions.

Routine does not ask how he is feeling.

Routine does not expect honesty.

So the offer Arvid made sits quietly in the back of his mind while Liam pretends it is not there.

He does not bring it up a week later either.

The opportunity appears once or twice, small moments where the two of them are alone for long enough that Liam could say something if he wanted to. A comment, a complaint, anything that might open the door to the kind of conversation Arvid offered to listen to.

But every time the moment arrives, Liam lets it pass.

It is easier that way.

Talking about stats is easier.

Talking about lap times, tire performance, the way the car felt through certain turns, those things come naturally. They belong in the world Liam understands best.

Feelings do not.

So he keeps quiet about those.

Even after the third race passes, nothing changes.

The results come in the same way they always seem to lately.

Not terrible.

But not good enough.

Liam finishes in positions that leave a sour taste in his mouth, numbers that look acceptable on paper but feel like failures in his head. He studies the final standings longer than he probably should, eyes scanning the list like there might be some hidden detail he missed the first time.

There never is.

The results stay the same no matter how many times he looks at them.

And every time, the same thought returns.

You should be better than this.

That voice is persistent.

It follows him everywhere.

Not the voice that reminds him Arvid offered to listen. That one appears occasionally, soft and distant, easy enough to ignore if he keeps himself busy.

No, the voice that really stays with him is the other one.

The one that lists every mistake he has made lately.

Every missed opportunity.

Every race where someone else performed better than he did.

It reminds him of the slip ups. The small moments where he hesitated too long or misjudged a corner or lost a position he should have held.

It reminds him of the expectations he once carried so easily.

You’re supposed to be better.

The thought repeats itself so often that it almost becomes background noise.

And yet it never fully fades.

Liam tells himself he does not care.

He acts like the results do not bother him.

But the nagging thought remains anyway, lingering in quiet moments when he has nothing else to focus on.

In contrast, Arvid seems to be doing well.

That part does not surprise Liam.

Not even a little.

If anything, he expected it from the beginning.

Arvid is steady in a way Liam has never quite managed to be. Focused, patient, consistent. The kind of driver who improves steadily instead of fluctuating between highs and lows.

Watching him perform well does not make Liam jealous.

At least he does not think it does.

It feels more like confirmation of something he already believed.

Arvid is the stronger one out of the two of them.

The thought settles into Liam’s mind without much resistance.

Still, despite everything, they start talking more.

A lot more.

At first it happens naturally, almost by accident.

They already spent time around each other during races and practice sessions, so conversations were unavoidable. But slowly those conversations start stretching longer than before.

They talk while reviewing race data.

They talk while walking back from meetings.

They talk while waiting for media appearances to start.

Sometimes the conversations are about racing.

Sometimes they drift into other things.

Music. Food. Random stories about people they both know.

Liam notices the shift gradually.

At some point the conversations stop feeling forced.

There had been a time when talking to Arvid felt slightly awkward, like both of them were trying to figure out where they stood with each other. Every sentence carried a small pause afterward, like they were both checking whether the other person wanted to keep talking.

That hesitation fades.

Now the words flow more easily.

Liam finds himself responding without overthinking every reply. Arvid jokes occasionally, and Liam actually laughs sometimes instead of just nodding politely.

They start spending time together outside of races too.

Not intentionally at first.

It starts with small things.

Grabbing food after a long day of practice.

Sitting around in the paddock a little longer than necessary.

Walking together between buildings instead of splitting off immediately.

Those small moments stack up quickly.

Before long it becomes normal.

Media days change too.

They used to feel stiff and uncomfortable, long hours of interviews and photographs where Liam mostly stood quietly and answered questions with short, careful responses.

Now they are easier.

Not because the questions have improved, but because Arvid is usually somewhere nearby.

They exchange quick comments between interviews, quiet observations about the questions reporters ask over and over again. Sometimes they make small jokes about the cameras or the awkward pauses that happen when someone forgets what they were about to say.

It makes the long days feel shorter.

Conversations no longer feel like something Liam has to force.

They happen naturally.

Still, some things remain the same.

Arvid still looks at him with that quiet concern sometimes.

Not as often as before, but it is still there.

Every now and then Liam catches him watching carefully, like he is checking whether Liam is actually alright or just pretending again.

The difference now is that the worry seems softer.

Less urgent.

Maybe because Liam talks more now, even if the conversations never go as deep as Arvid originally offered.

Or maybe because Arvid saw that small glimpse of something real that night on the bench.

That moment where Liam’s expression slipped and the truth almost showed through.

Liam still pretends to be cold.

He keeps the same distant attitude most people expect from him. Calm responses, controlled expressions, a careful distance that prevents anyone from getting too close.

But Arvid knows better now.

He saw the crack in the act.

Just a brief moment where the real Liam appeared underneath everything else.

And even though Liam tries to cover it up again, tries to rebuild the same quiet wall he always had, that glimpse changed something.

Arvid treats him a little differently now.

Not dramatically.

Just subtly.

Like someone who understands there is more beneath the surface, even if that surface never fully breaks open.

And Liam knows it.

Every time Arvid looks at him with that quiet understanding, Liam feels a small, uncomfortable awareness in his chest.

Because pretending to be cold is harder when someone already knows you are not.

Liam had already assumed he had enough problems to deal with.

The races were inconsistent. His results were not where they were supposed to be. Every week there seemed to be another reminder that he was not performing the way everyone once expected him to. That alone felt like enough to occupy most of his thoughts.

Apparently it was not.

Because somewhere along the way he finds himself facing another problem.

Arvid.

At first Liam does not recognize it as a problem at all.

Arvid being around more often had been easy to adjust to. Their conversations had become normal, their time together almost routine. There was nothing uncomfortable about it at the beginning. If anything, it had made things easier. Race weekends felt less tense when he had someone familiar to talk to. Media days were less awkward when Arvid was standing nearby.

Everything about their growing friendship had seemed simple.

Until Liam started noticing certain things about himself.

The first thing he notices is the warmth.

Not physical warmth exactly, but the way his face feels when Arvid looks at him for too long. It happens during one of their usual conversations. Arvid is talking about something that happened during practice, explaining a mistake he made during one of the laps, and Liam realizes he has stopped listening halfway through the explanation.

Because Arvid is looking at him.

Not in any unusual way. Just the same attentive expression he always has when they talk.

But Liam suddenly becomes very aware of it.

Too aware.

His cheeks heat up slightly before he can stop it.

He looks away almost immediately, pretending he is thinking about what Arvid just said.

That is when he starts realizing something might be wrong.

Because that reaction is not normal.

At least not for him.

Liam has never been the type of person who gets flustered around people. Conversations usually come easily enough. He keeps things controlled, measured, distant in the right ways.

Yet somehow Arvid manages to disrupt that balance without even trying.

The warmth in Liam’s face becomes something he notices more often after that.

Small moments.

A passing comment from Arvid that makes him glance down instead of responding immediately.

A casual compliment that makes Liam suddenly very interested in whatever is happening across the room.

None of it is dramatic.

But it happens enough that Liam cannot ignore it anymore.

And once he notices it, he starts noticing other things too.

Like the way he sometimes hopes Arvid will keep talking just a little longer.

Their conversations often drift naturally, moving from racing to other topics without much effort. Sometimes Arvid tells long stories, explaining something that happened during training or repeating a conversation he overheard earlier.

Liam realizes he likes those moments.

More than he probably should.

There are times when Arvid pauses briefly in the middle of a thought, like he is deciding whether the rest of the story is worth finishing, and Liam feels an unexpected urge to encourage him to continue.

Keep talking.

He never says that out loud.

But the thought crosses his mind often enough.

Then there is the attention.

Arvid has always been observant. Liam noticed that early on. He tends to watch people carefully when they speak, giving them his full focus in a way that most people do not bother with.

Now that attention is often directed at Liam.

And Liam finds that he likes it.

More than he should.

He notices when Arvid’s eyes are on him. Even in crowded spaces, even when there are several other people around. Somehow Liam becomes aware of it almost immediately.

At first it makes him self conscious.

After a while it does something else entirely.

He starts basking in it.

The realization hits him slowly, but once it appears he cannot unsee it. There is something deeply satisfying about having Arvid’s attention focused on him like that. Like he matters in a way that other people do not.

It makes him want more of it.

That thought alone is concerning enough.

But it does not stop there.

Because the deeper Liam looks into his own reactions, the more complicated things become.

Sometimes their conversations happen close enough that their shoulders almost touch.

Sometimes Arvid leans slightly toward him when he is explaining something.

Those moments create a strange awareness in Liam’s mind.

An awareness of distance.

Or rather, the lack of it.

He begins noticing how easy it would be to close that distance completely.

The thought appears suddenly the first time.

What would it feel like if Arvid touched him.

Not accidentally. Not the brief brush of arms that happens when people stand too close together.

Something deliberate.

Liam shuts that thought down almost immediately.

But it comes back.

Not constantly, not in a way that overwhelms everything else. Just occasionally, slipping into his mind during quiet moments.

And then there are Arvid’s lips.

That is the detail Liam wishes he had never noticed.

Because once he does, it becomes very difficult to ignore.

It happens during a conversation where Arvid is talking for several minutes straight about something related to the last race. Liam is listening, or at least pretending to, when his eyes drop briefly.

Just for a second.

Long enough to notice the shape of Arvid’s mouth when he speaks.

Liam immediately looks away.

But the damage is already done.

After that moment, it happens again every once in a while.

Not intentionally.

Just quick glances he barely registers until afterward.

And every time he catches himself doing it, a wave of frustration follows.

Because by now the truth is becoming very clear.

He likes Arvid.

Not just as a teammate.

Not just as a friend.

The feeling runs deeper than that.

Liam knows it.

Admitting it to himself is surprisingly easy once the realization fully forms. There is no dramatic moment of denial or confusion. Just a quiet understanding that settles into place like a piece of a puzzle finally fitting where it belongs.

Yes.

He likes Arvid.

That part he can accept privately.

The real problem appears when he considers saying it out loud.

Because that feels impossible.

Liam can barely imagine the words leaving his mouth without his entire sense of control collapsing with them.

The idea alone makes his stomach twist.

It is one thing to acknowledge a feeling internally, where no one else can hear it or respond to it. It is another thing entirely to say it to the person who caused it.

God.

That is much harder.

Much, much harder.

So Liam does what he always does when something becomes too complicated.

He keeps it to himself.

He continues pretending everything is normal.

The conversations continue. The time they spend together keeps growing naturally, like nothing has changed at all.

On the outside, nothing has.

Arvid still talks to him the same way he always has.

He still watches him with that careful attention.

He still offers small smiles during conversations, still leans slightly closer when he is explaining something interesting.

The only real difference is inside Liam’s head.

Because now every one of those small moments carries a new weight.

And Liam has no idea what to do with it.

“Hey.”

The voice is small, quiet enough that it almost blends into the background noise of the garage.

Liam hears it immediately.

Even though the word is soft, even though it comes from behind him, he recognizes the voice without needing to turn around. He would probably recognize it anywhere by now.

Still, he does not look up.

He stays exactly where he is, sitting in the far corner of the garage where most of the lights do not quite reach. His elbows rest on his knees, his hands loosely clasped together while he stares at the concrete floor between his shoes.

The garage had been loud earlier.

Engines, tools, people shouting instructions over the noise, reporters trying to get quick comments before drivers disappeared. It had been the same controlled chaos that always follows the end of a race.

But that chaos had started fading a while ago.

Most of the teams have packed up already. The crews that finished their work early left first, rolling equipment toward the transport trucks and moving on to whatever came next. The larger crowds of media people drifted away once the more successful drivers finished their interviews.

Now only a few people remain.

Just the drivers who had not left yet and their personal engineers, scattered around the remaining garages while they review data or pack up the last pieces of equipment.

The noise has settled into something quieter.

Occasional footsteps. The faint clink of tools being placed back into cases. Low conversations happening somewhere farther down the row.

Liam stays in his corner, separated from most of it.

He does not glance back at Arvid.

He does not respond either.

The silence is intentional.

His mind is still stuck on the race.

Or more accurately, the part of the race he never finished.

The memory keeps replaying in his head in short fragments.

The turn.

The sudden movement of another car too close to his front wing.

Pierre cutting in slightly sharper than expected.

For a split second the front of Liam’s car had clipped something. Just barely, just enough to throw off the balance.

After that everything happened too quickly.

The car had gone rogue almost instantly, the back end sliding out in a way Liam could not correct fast enough. The wheel jerked under his hands as he tried to recover, tried to pull the car back into line before the track disappeared beneath him.

It had not worked.

The wall had come up faster than he expected.

The sound of impact still echoes faintly in his memory, dull and heavy, followed by the sudden stillness that comes after everything stops moving.

Race over.

Just like that.

Liam exhales slowly through his nose.

He knows what people will say about the incident.

They will review the footage, pause it at the right moment, point out how Pierre’s car clipped the front of his. Some will say the contact caused the spin. Others will argue that the damage made the car impossible to control.

There will be discussions about fault.

But none of that really matters to Liam.

Because in his mind the conclusion is already clear.

He should have been better.

He should have been able to stop it.

A better driver might have saved the car.

A better driver might have corrected the slide before it turned into a crash.

Liam’s jaw tightens slightly.

The thought sits heavily in his chest.

He wasn’t good enough.

The quiet voice behind him does not speak again right away.

For a few seconds there is just the faint sound of movement somewhere else in the garage.

Then Liam hears footsteps approaching.

Slow ones.

Not rushed.

They stop beside him.

There is a small pause, like the person is considering what to say next.

Then the floor creaks slightly as someone sits down.

Liam does not need to look to know who it is.

Arvid settles beside him carefully, leaving just enough space between them that they are not touching but still close enough to share the same small patch of floor.

For a moment neither of them speaks.

Liam keeps his gaze down.

Arvid studies him quietly.

The concern on his face appears almost immediately. It is not dramatic or exaggerated, just the natural reaction of someone who can tell something is wrong without needing an explanation.

Liam’s silence is not subtle.

Normally he would at least acknowledge someone speaking to him. A short response, a nod, something polite enough to keep the conversation moving.

But now he has not even looked up.

Arvid shifts slightly where he sits, resting his forearms on his knees in a posture that mirrors Liam’s.

“You alright?” he asks after a moment.

The question is gentle.

Liam lets out a quiet breath.

For a second he considers ignoring that too.

But the silence has already stretched long enough that it would feel deliberate.

“I’m fine,” he mutters.

The words sound flat even to his own ears.

Arvid does not respond right away.

Liam can feel the weight of his gaze without looking.

“You hit the wall pretty hard,” Arvid says carefully.

“I noticed.”

The answer comes out sharper than Liam intends.

He rubs his thumb against the side of his hand, staring harder at the floor like the concrete might somehow give him an answer to something.

Another quiet moment passes.

“Pierre clipped you,” Arvid says.

Liam shakes his head slightly.

“That doesn’t matter.”

“It does.”

“No,” Liam says, his voice tightening slightly. “It doesn’t.”

Arvid frowns faintly.

“Why not?”

Because it doesn’t change anything.

Because the outcome is still the same.

Because excuses do not erase the fact that Liam did not finish the race.

But Liam does not say any of that out loud.

Instead he shrugs faintly.

“Still crashed.”

The words hang there.

Arvid studies him for a moment longer.

“You couldn’t control the car after that hit,” he says.

Liam finally glances up.

His expression is tired more than anything else.

“I should have.”

Arvid does not answer immediately.

The garage around them continues slowly emptying. Somewhere down the row a metal door slides closed with a hollow sound. Someone laughs quietly at something in the distance.

But in their corner everything stays still.

“You’re being hard on yourself,” Arvid says eventually.

Liam lets out a small humorless laugh.

“No,” he replies quietly. “I’m being realistic.”

Arvid tilts his head slightly, clearly unconvinced.

But he does not argue further.

Instead he sits there beside Liam, worry still written plainly across his face.

Liam notices it even though he tries not to.

That expression has become familiar lately.

Arvid always seems to look at him like that when something goes wrong.

Concerned.

Attentive.

Like he is waiting to see if Liam will say something more.

Liam stares at the floor again.

The same thought repeats quietly in his mind.

He wasn’t good enough.

The garage has grown quieter since Arvid sat down beside him.

A few minutes earlier there had still been the distant sounds of mechanics finishing their work. Toolboxes closing, equipment being rolled across the floor, low voices discussing race data. Now even those sounds are fading. One by one the remaining crew members drift out, leaving the long row of garages feeling strangely hollow.

The bright overhead lights still hum softly, but the energy from earlier is gone.

Liam stays where he is, elbows resting on his knees, eyes fixed on the same patch of floor he has been staring at for several minutes now. The concrete is scuffed in places, dark marks left behind by tires and equipment carts. It is not particularly interesting to look at, but it gives him something to focus on.

Something that is not the race.

Something that is not the moment his car slammed into the wall.

Beside him, Arvid shifts slightly.

Not enough to break the quiet completely, just enough that Liam notices the small movement out of the corner of his vision.

For a while neither of them says anything.

Arvid seems content to sit there, waiting, giving Liam space to speak if he wants to. Liam suspects that is exactly what he is doing. Arvid has always been like that when someone is upset. Patient. Quiet. Willing to wait longer than most people would.

Liam appreciates that more than he will ever admit out loud.

Still, the silence stretches long enough that it begins to feel heavier.

Eventually Arvid inhales softly.

“..I’m glad you’re okay.”

His voice is quiet again.

The words are simple, but they pull Liam’s attention away from the floor for a moment.

He glances sideways briefly before looking down again.

Of all the things Arvid could have said, that was not the one Liam expected.

He expected something about the crash.

Or about the race.

Or about what happened with Pierre’s car.

But Arvid did not start there.

Instead he started with Liam.

The thought sits in Liam’s mind for a second before he responds.

“I’m fine,” he mutters.

The answer comes automatically.

Arvid does not argue with him about that.

He just nods slightly, accepting the response without pushing it further.

“I know,” he says after a moment.

Another quiet pause follows.

Liam assumes that will be the end of it. That Arvid will leave it there, maybe change the subject or let the conversation fade completely.

But Arvid speaks again.

“I understand you’re probably disappointed with everything.”

Liam exhales slowly through his nose.

That part is obvious.

He does not need anyone pointing it out.

Still, he does not interrupt.

Arvid continues, his voice steady but careful.

“But I thought you did really good either way.”

Liam finally looks up properly this time.

He turns his head just enough to study Arvid’s face.

There is no hint of teasing or sarcasm there. No sign that the comment is meant to soften the situation with empty encouragement.

Arvid actually means it.

That makes Liam frown slightly.

“Really,” Arvid adds quietly, like he can tell Liam is skeptical.

Liam shakes his head once.

“I crashed,” he says flatly.

“Yes,” Arvid replies.

The agreement catches Liam off guard for a second.

Arvid does not rush to argue.

He does not pretend the crash did not happen.

“You still did your best,” Arvid continues.

Liam’s mouth presses into a thin line.

That phrase bothers him.

Doing your best.

It sounds like something people say to make failure easier to accept. Like the words themselves are supposed to erase the result.

But Liam cannot think that way.

Not when the standings still exist.

Not when the results are written down for everyone to see.

Doing his best should have been enough to finish the race.

Doing his best should have kept the car out of the wall.

“Clearly not good enough,” Liam mutters.

Arvid tilts his head slightly.

“That’s not the same thing.”

“It is to me.”

Arvid watches him for a moment.

Liam looks away again almost immediately.

The last thing he wants right now is someone studying his expression too closely.

For a while neither of them says anything.

Then Arvid sighs quietly.

Not in frustration.

More like the kind of sigh someone lets out when they are thinking carefully about what to say next.

“You’re really hard on yourself,” he says.

Liam huffs faintly.

“That’s called being honest.”

Arvid shakes his head.

“No,” he replies gently. “That’s called being unfair.”

Liam glances at him again.

“Unfair?”

“Yes.”

Arvid leans forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees again.

“Everyone makes mistakes during races,” he says. “Everyone has crashes. That doesn’t suddenly erase everything else you did right.”

Liam lets out a quiet breath.

“That’s easy to say when you’re not the one sitting in the wall.”

Arvid does not react defensively.

Instead he nods slowly.

“You’re right,” he says.

Liam blinks once.

That was not the argument he expected.

Arvid continues calmly.

“But that doesn’t mean you deserve to tear yourself apart over it.”

Liam rubs his hands together slowly, staring down again.

“You didn’t see the data yet,” he mutters.

“I don’t need to.”

“Yes you do.”

“No,” Arvid replies.

The certainty in his voice is quiet but firm.

“I watched the race.”

Liam does not answer.

He remembers the race too clearly already.

Every second leading up to the crash feels frozen in his mind.

Arvid studies him for a moment longer before speaking again.

“You pushed hard,” he says. “You were holding your position well. You handled the pressure from the cars behind you without making mistakes.”

Liam’s shoulders shift slightly.

Arvid pauses briefly.

“The contact with Pierre wasn’t something you planned,” he adds.

“That still doesn’t change the result.”

“No,” Arvid agrees.

Another pause follows.

“But it does change how you should see it.”

Liam shakes his head again.

“That’s not how this works.”

“Why not?”

“Because results matter.”

Arvid nods slowly.

“They do.”

Then he looks directly at Liam again.

“But they’re not the only thing that matters.”

Liam does not respond.

The silence stretches between them for a few seconds.

Arvid exhales softly before continuing.

“You’re allowed to be disappointed,” he says. “Anyone would be after a crash like that.”

Liam stares at the floor again.

“But you should give yourself some grace too, Liam.”

The words land quietly, but they carry weight.

Grace.

It is not a word Liam usually associates with himself.

His mind immediately pushes back against it.

Grace means forgiveness.

Grace means understanding.

Liam rarely gives himself either of those things.

Arvid continues gently.

“You work harder than almost anyone out here,” he says. “You push yourself every single race.”

Liam’s jaw tightens slightly.

“And sometimes things still go wrong,” Arvid adds.

The garage is almost completely empty now.

Their voices echo faintly against the walls.

“That doesn’t mean you’re not good enough.”

Liam exhales slowly.

For a moment he does not know what to say.

Part of him wants to argue.

Another part of him wants to believe what Arvid is saying.

But the doubt sitting in his chest refuses to disappear that easily.

Still, hearing someone say those things aloud does something.

Even if it is small.

Even if Liam refuses to acknowledge it.

He sits there quietly beside Arvid, staring down at the floor while the words settle somewhere deep in his thoughts.

And beside him, Arvid stays exactly where he is, patient and steady, like he has no intention of leaving Liam to deal with the disappointment alone.

Liam does not bother to say anything after that.

Arvid’s words settle into the quiet space between them and stay there, lingering in a way that makes responding feel unnecessary. Liam does not have anything useful to add anyway. If he tried to speak, it would probably just turn into another short argument about results and mistakes and the things he should have done differently.

So he stays silent.

For a while he just sits there beside Arvid, staring down at the same patch of concrete floor. The marks on the ground blur together after a while, his focus drifting somewhere else entirely. His mind is still heavy with the race, with the impact, with the frustrating loop of thoughts that always follows a mistake like that.

But Arvid’s presence changes something about the silence.

It is not the same kind of silence Liam experiences when he is alone.

This one feels steadier.

Less empty.

Arvid does not rush him. He does not try to force the conversation to continue. After saying what he needed to say, he simply stays there, sitting close enough that Liam can feel the faint warmth coming from his shoulder.

The quiet stretches for another minute.

Then Liam shifts slightly.

The movement is small at first, almost unnoticeable. He adjusts the way he is sitting, leaning a little more to one side while his hands slide loosely together between his knees.

He does not really think about what he is doing.

It happens slowly, the kind of movement that begins almost absentmindedly.

But eventually it becomes clear what direction that movement is taking.

Liam leans toward Arvid.

The distance between them is not very large to begin with, but he closes it anyway, inch by inch. His shoulder brushes lightly against Arvid’s arm as he shifts.

He pauses for half a second when that happens.

Just enough time to reconsider.

But he does not pull away.

Instead he leans a little further.

And then, before he can overthink the decision, Liam lets his head fall gently against Arvid’s shoulder.

The contact is light at first.

His temple rests against the fabric of Arvid’s shirt, the warmth of it immediate and slightly surprising. Liam exhales quietly, the tension in his shoulders loosening just a little.

For a brief moment he stays perfectly still.

Then hesitation creeps in.

The reality of what he just did settles in a second later, and Liam suddenly becomes aware of how close they are now. His head is literally resting on Arvid’s shoulder, something he has never done before with anyone here.

The realization makes him glance up quickly.

He tilts his head just enough to look at Arvid’s face, checking his expression.

It is a cautious look.

Liam is not used to doing things like this. Physical closeness does not come naturally to him, especially not in moments where he is clearly vulnerable.

Part of him wonders if he just crossed some invisible line.

If Arvid will pull away or look surprised or awkward.

But that is not what happens.

Arvid is already looking down at him.

And he is smiling.

Not a wide grin, not anything exaggerated. Just a soft smile that forms slowly as their eyes meet. The kind of expression that carries quiet warmth instead of excitement.

Still, Liam notices something flicker in Arvid’s eyes.

Something brighter.

Hope, maybe.

And something else too.

Something very close to excitement, though it is carefully restrained.

It is not the reaction of someone who feels uncomfortable about the contact.

If anything, it looks like the reaction of someone who has been hoping for this kind of closeness for a while.

Arvid does not move away.

Instead his shoulder shifts slightly under Liam’s weight, adjusting naturally so Liam can rest there more comfortably.

“You okay?” Arvid murmurs quietly.

The question is soft, almost instinctive.

Liam does not answer with words.

But he does not move away either.

That seems to be enough.

Arvid’s smile softens even more.

For a few seconds neither of them speaks again.

The garage around them is nearly silent now. Somewhere far down the row a door closes with a distant echo, but otherwise the building feels almost empty.

Liam can hear the faint sound of Arvid’s breathing beside him.

He had not expected the contact to feel this… calming.

Usually when he is upset, his body stays tense for a long time afterward. The frustration from a bad race tends to linger in his muscles, making it hard to relax even when everything else has settled.

But leaning against Arvid’s shoulder seems to drain some of that tension away.

Slowly.

Gradually.

Liam closes his eyes for a moment, letting himself rest there.

Then he feels movement beside him.

Arvid’s arm shifts carefully, sliding behind Liam’s back.

The motion is cautious at first, almost like he is giving Liam time to pull away if he wants to.

But Liam does not react.

He stays where he is, head still resting against Arvid’s shoulder.

So Arvid continues.

His hand slips gently around Liam’s waist, the contact warm and steady. His fingers settle against Liam’s side, not gripping tightly but holding him with enough pressure to keep him close.

And then Arvid pulls him a little closer.

The movement is slow, deliberate.

Liam’s body shifts naturally with it, leaning more fully into Arvid’s side.

Their shoulders press together more firmly now, and Liam can feel the warmth of Arvid’s arm around him clearly.

For a moment Liam tenses slightly at the closeness.

Not because he dislikes it.

Quite the opposite.

The closeness feels.. nice.

That is the problem.

Liam has spent so much time convincing himself to keep distance between himself and everyone else that moments like this feel unfamiliar.

But Arvid does not rush him.

He simply keeps his arm where it is, letting the contact exist without turning it into anything bigger.

Eventually Liam relaxes again.

His head settles more comfortably against Arvid’s shoulder, his body leaning naturally into the side of him now.

Neither of them says anything.

They do not need to.

The silence that follows feels different from the one earlier.

Before, the quiet had been heavy with disappointment and frustration.

Now it feels steadier.

Warmer.

And somewhere above them the bright garage lights continue humming softly, casting long shadows across the empty floor while the two of them sit together in the quiet.

Arvid keeps his eyes on Liam.

He does not try to hide it either. His gaze stays fixed on the side of Liam’s face, soft and quiet in a way that feels almost careful, like he is watching something fragile that he does not want to disturb.

Liam can feel it.

He does not have to look up to know Arvid is staring at him. The awareness sits somewhere in the back of his mind, steady and warm. It is strange how easy it has become to recognize Arvid’s attention. At first it used to make Liam uncomfortable, used to make him tense whenever he caught the younger man looking at him like that.

Now it feels different.

Now it feels.. nice.

Arvid’s arm is still around his waist, holding him close without any urgency behind the gesture. His hand rests against Liam’s hip, fingers relaxed against the fabric of his race suit.

And his thumb moves slowly.

Small circles.

Gentle and repetitive, like a quiet rhythm that neither of them has to acknowledge out loud.

Liam notices it almost immediately.

The motion is subtle but impossible to ignore once he becomes aware of it. The slow brushing of Arvid’s thumb against his hip sends a faint warmth through his side, the kind that spreads gradually instead of all at once.

It is comforting in a way Liam did not expect.

He had not realized how tense he still was until that simple touch started easing some of it away.

The world feels slower here in the quiet corner of the garage.

The noise from earlier has faded completely. Most of the team members have already left, and the few who remain are busy enough with their own work that no one bothers them. The bright overhead lights cast long shadows across the concrete floor, reflecting faintly off the equipment still scattered around the space.

But Liam barely notices any of it.

His attention stays focused on the feeling of Arvid beside him.

The warmth of his shoulder.

The steady rise and fall of his breathing.

The soft movement of that thumb tracing the same patient circles against his hip.

It is calming.

More calming than anything Liam has felt in a long time.

He does not realize how long they sit there like that.

Minutes pass quietly.

Neither of them speak.

Arvid does not seem to mind the silence. If anything, he looks comfortable in it, perfectly content to just sit there with Liam leaning against him.

Liam appreciates that.

Too many people feel the need to fill silence with pointless conversation. Arvid has never really done that with him. He seems to understand when words are unnecessary.

And right now, words feel unnecessary.

For a while.

Liam keeps his gaze fixed somewhere across the garage, not really focusing on anything in particular. His thoughts drift slowly through the usual places, the race replaying in pieces behind his eyes, the frustration still lingering somewhere deep in his chest.

But the frustration does not feel as sharp anymore.

It is still there.

Just.. quieter.

Eventually Liam becomes aware of something else.

Arvid has not looked away.

He can still feel that steady gaze resting on him.

At first Liam tries to ignore it, but the longer it continues the more aware he becomes of it. There is something almost heavy about being looked at like that, especially when the look carries so much quiet attention behind it.

Liam shifts slightly against Arvid’s shoulder.

Not to pull away.

Just enough to adjust his position.

Arvid’s arm tightens just a little in response, not in a restrictive way but in a protective one, like he is making sure Liam stays comfortable where he is.

The movement makes Arvid’s thumb pause for a second before it resumes its slow circles again.

Liam exhales softly.

It feels strange how easy this is becoming.

A few weeks ago he would have pulled away immediately from something like this. He would have made some dismissive comment or brushed it off before the moment could settle into anything meaningful.

Now he just stays there.

Leaning against Arvid.

Letting himself be held.

Letting the quiet stretch between them without trying to break it.

He does not understand exactly when that change happened.

Maybe it happened gradually. Maybe it happened during all those small conversations they had been having lately, the ones that started awkward but slowly became easier.

Maybe it happened the moment Liam realized Arvid was not going to stop caring about him no matter how distant he tried to act.

Or maybe it happened earlier than that.

Liam is not sure.

But he knows one thing.

It feels good to be here like this.

It feels safe in a way he did not expect.

Arvid’s thumb keeps tracing those same slow circles against his hip, the repetitive motion almost hypnotic now.

Liam finally lets his eyes close for a moment.

He listens to the quiet around them.

The faint hum of the overhead lights.

The distant clatter of tools somewhere further down the garage.

Arvid’s breathing.

Everything feels strangely calm.

And that calm feeling leads his thoughts somewhere else.

Because the more Liam thinks about it, the more something about this situation stops making sense to him.

Arvid has been like this with him for weeks now.

Patient.

Supportive.

Constant.

Even when Liam has been difficult. Even when he has brushed him off or acted colder than necessary.

Arvid has stayed the same.

Still showing up beside him.

Still offering encouragement.

Still looking at him with that same quiet belief in his eyes.

Liam does not understand it.

Not completely.

He understands why people support drivers who are winning races. That kind of belief is easy. Success makes confidence simple.

But Liam has not been winning.

He has been making mistakes.

Finishing lower than he should.

Crashing into walls when he should have recovered.

By every logical measure, he has not been giving Arvid a reason to believe in him this strongly.

And yet Arvid does.

Without hesitation.

Without doubt.

Liam opens his eyes again.

He still does not look up at Arvid.

Instead he keeps his gaze forward, watching the empty stretch of garage floor ahead of them.

But eventually the question forms in his mind clearly enough that he cannot ignore it.

His voice is quiet when he finally speaks.

Soft from disuse after so much silence.

“Why do you have so much faith in me?”

The words come out slower than he intended.

Arvid’s thumb stops moving almost immediately.

The small circles against Liam’s hip come to a gentle halt as the question settles between them.

For a moment Arvid does not answer.

Liam can feel the shift in his posture, the subtle movement of his chest as he takes in a slow breath.

It is not the reaction Liam expected.

He thought Arvid might answer immediately with something simple. Something reassuring or optimistic like he usually does.

But Arvid stays quiet.

Thinking.

Liam finally glances up.

He tilts his head slightly, just enough to see Arvid’s expression from where he is resting against his shoulder.

Arvid is already looking down at him again.

His expression is still soft, but now there is something more thoughtful behind it. His brows have drawn together slightly as if he is carefully considering how to respond.

Not searching for an excuse.

Searching for the right words.

Liam studies his face for a moment.

Part of him wonders if he should not have asked.

But he wants to know.

Because the question has been sitting quietly in the back of his mind for weeks now.

Why does Arvid believe in him this much?

Why does he keep choosing Liam, over and over again, even when Liam is not sure he deserves that kind of trust?

Arvid finally exhales quietly.

His arm tightens slightly around Liam’s waist again, almost absentmindedly, like the contact helps him think.

Then his thumb starts moving again.

Slow circles.

Gentle and familiar.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Arvid’s voice is quiet but steady, simple enough that it could almost be ignored if someone did not know him. The words feel almost vague when Liam thinks about them, like a puzzle missing some edges.

On the surface it is easy to accept, a straightforward question and answer, but the longer Liam sits there leaning against him, the more complicated it becomes. Because when Liam tries to imagine reasons, a million tiny voices start whispering in his mind, each one convincing him that Arvid could have every reason in the world not to believe in him.

He thinks of the crashes, of the races where he could not keep the car on track, the mistakes that seemed to pile up with no end in sight. He thinks of Pierre and the way other drivers manage to stay consistent, to hold their positions, to respond instantly to what the car tells them.

Liam thinks of the media, the way questions hang in the air and how often he fumbles through interviews with answers that sound too flat or too rehearsed. He thinks of the team, of engineers whispering quietly among themselves while glancing at his telemetry, all the subtle hints that maybe they had expected more from him, expected better results, expected someone capable of more than what he feels he has shown.

He thinks of himself, too. He knows the worst of the reasons. His own brain reminds him endlessly that he is not talented enough, not strong enough, not ready for the expectations that constantly press down on him. Liam is aware of every imperfection he has ever made on track, and in that moment, against Arvid’s calm presence, each one feels magnified. And yet Arvid’s question still sits there in the quiet of the garage.

“You really want me to answer that?” Liam huffs quietly, a small sound that is more frustration than breath. He does not look up at Arvid. His eyes stay fixed on the worn concrete floor, tracing the marks left by tires and scuffs, as if the pattern on the ground could somehow distract him from the spiral of his own thoughts.

Arvid says nothing at first. He waits. Liam knows he always waits. He waits with that quiet patience, with a gaze that holds steady, that refuses to look away even when Liam feels like he should. The silence is gentle but deliberate, and it draws Liam’s attention to the rhythm of Arvid’s thumb tracing small circles along his side.

The motion is soft, reassuring, deliberate in a way that makes him aware of how close they are, how grounded he feels just sitting there. The thumb moves in small, precise circles that are hypnotic, slow enough to make him feel like the tension in his chest could melt into it if he let himself.

“I’d just… I’d just talk about everything wrong with me,” Liam admits finally, his voice low, rough around the edges. “You don’t want to hear it.”

Arvid tilts his head slightly, and even though Liam does not look directly at him, he can sense the gaze. It is soft, warm, patient, and full of a quiet understanding that Liam has come to rely on without quite admitting it. Arvid does not react with impatience or annoyance. He does not dismiss the words. Instead, he shifts slightly closer, letting his shoulder press just a fraction more firmly against Liam’s, like a subtle anchor in the emptiness.

“Because I care, Liam,” Arvid says softly, his voice steady. “I care about you.” The words are simple, but they carry weight. They are deliberate, sincere, not the kind of thing someone says without meaning it. “And I know you’re talented. You’ve had bad moments, yes, but that does not define you. I know what you can do. That is why I still have faith in you.”

Liam flinches slightly at the phrase. He wants to argue, wants to mutter that it is not true, that it is too late for faith because he has failed too many times. But the words do not feel like something he can easily dismiss. Arvid is not exaggerating or sugarcoating. There is no empty promise in his tone. It is not encouragement meant to make him feel better temporarily. It is grounded in observation, in knowledge, in a quiet certainty that makes it hard to ignore.

“You’re just in a bad place right now,” Arvid continues, his voice low, almost conversational. “It happens to everyone at some point. Even the best drivers hit a patch where nothing seems to work. You just need to get back into your groove. And I know you can. I know it because I have seen it before. You’ve done it. You can do it again.”

Liam closes his eyes briefly, letting himself feel the words rather than fight them. The warmth of Arvid’s shoulder under his head, the gentle pressure of his hand around Liam’s waist, the steady circles of his thumb against him.

all of it combines into something that makes it hard to focus on the negative thoughts crawling through his mind. It is disorienting in a way he did not expect. He wants to push it away, to focus on failure, on mistakes, on everything that makes him feel unworthy of faith. But Arvid’s presence is too steady, too persistent in its calm assurance.

“You really mean that?” Liam finally murmurs, still not looking at him, still hesitant to lift his eyes.

Arvid’s smile is small but firm, reassuring without being overwhelming. “Yes,” he says simply. “I have no doubt. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for, Liam. You’ve always been capable, even if you have a hard time seeing it. It’s just that you’re lost in the wrong thoughts right now. That’s all.”

Liam exhales, slow and shaky. He wants to say something else, something biting, something that undermines the sentiment, something like he always does. But the words catch in his throat. There is something about Arvid’s gaze that stops him. Something about the quiet patience, the unwavering attention, the way Arvid’s eyes do not judge him but hold him accountable without cruelty, that makes arguing seem pointless.

He shifts slightly closer, letting his forehead rest lightly against the top of Arvid’s shoulder. It is a small movement, almost imperceptible, but it is intentional. He does not say anything more. Words feel inadequate anyway.

How do you explain why you feel like everything is falling apart while someone else’s faith in you refuses to waver? How do you explain that the presence of another person makes your own mistakes feel lighter without ever diminishing their weight?

Arvid does not move. His thumb continues the gentle circles, tracing the same rhythm that has lulled some of the tension from Liam’s shoulders. “I am not saying it will be easy,” Arvid says after a while, his voice quiet enough that it almost feels like he is speaking to himself as much as to Liam. “I am not saying it will happen overnight. But I believe in you. I will believe in you even when you do not. Even when everything seems impossible. Even when you think you are too far gone.”

Liam swallows hard, the weight in his chest loosening a fraction. He lets himself listen instead of thinking, feel instead of overanalyzing. The hum of the garage, the distant echo of footsteps down the corridor, the faint clank of a toolbox somewhere far away, they all fade into the background. There is only the soft rhythm of Arvid’s thumb, the warmth of his body pressed gently against Liam’s side, and the certainty in his voice that refuses to falter.

Finally, in a voice barely above a whisper, Liam speaks again. “Why me?”

Arvid’s hand tightens just slightly around Liam’s waist, as if to emphasize the answer before he even speaks. “Because I see you,” he says. “Not just the mistakes, not just the crashes, not just the times you feel weak or frustrated. I see the real you. The driver you are, the person you are. And I care about both. That is why I still believe in you. That is why I will always have faith, no matter what happens.”

Liam leans a little further into the warmth, letting the weight of everything he has carried for weeks settle against someone who does not push him away. He does not have to speak anymore. He does not have to fight the negative thoughts. For once, he can just be here. And for once, it is enough.

The garage feels impossibly still, the bright lights casting long shadows across the empty floor. Liam closes his eyes fully now, and for the first time in a long time, he allows himself to feel a small spark of something he has not felt in a long while.

hope.

That moment seems to leave a lasting impact on Liam. It lingers in the back of his mind in a way he can’t quite shake, replaying itself quietly whenever he finds a moment to think. From that point forward it is almost like they cannot be separated.

Something about that single shift between them makes distance feel unnecessary, even unnatural. Liam keeps close to Arvid now. He does not bother pulling away when he catches the way Arvid smiles when he is near. He does not make an effort to step back, does not invent excuses to create space like he once might have done. If anything, he leans into it.

There is a comfort in that closeness that surprises him. For so long he had convinced himself it was safer to keep a little distance between them, safer to pretend that whatever small feelings had started growing in his chest could be ignored if he simply refused to feed them. It had seemed like the reasonable thing to do at the time. Arvid had always been easy to like, easy to be drawn toward, and Liam had noticed that early on. The problem was how quickly liking him had begun to blur into something deeper. Something softer, warmer, and a lot harder to pretend away.

Now, though, he stops trying.

They spend more time together without either of them really commenting on it. It just becomes the natural rhythm of things. If Arvid is somewhere, Liam tends to be there too, and the same works in reverse. Sometimes it is intentional, like when one of them casually asks the other to come along somewhere, but other times it simply happens. They drift into the same rooms, end up sitting beside each other without thinking about it, their conversations picking up where they left off as if there had never been a break between them.

And Liam finds that he likes it. More than he expected to.

He starts noticing small things about Arvid in ways that feel new. The way his voice changes slightly when he laughs, the way he leans closer when he is interested in what Liam is saying, the quiet warmth in his expression when he thinks Liam is not looking. There is something easy about being around him. Something uncomplicated that makes Liam relax without realizing it.

Their closeness becomes physical in small, casual ways at first. A shoulder brushing against his when they sit beside each other. Arvid standing a little too close when they are talking, close enough that Liam can feel the warmth of him. It happens so gradually that Liam almost does not notice the shift until he looks back on it later.

The first time Arvid lets a hand settle on Liam’s hip it catches him off guard.

It is such a simple thing, done absentmindedly in the middle of a conversation, like it is the most natural gesture in the world. But the moment Arvid’s hand rests there, warm and steady, Liam feels something in his chest soften instantly. His breath stutters just slightly before he manages to recover, hoping the reaction is subtle enough that Arvid does not notice.

Because he likes it.

He likes it far more than he should.

The warmth of Arvid’s hand seeps through the fabric between them, grounding and reassuring all at once. It sends a quiet rush through Liam that he cannot quite explain, a slow spreading warmth that makes it difficult to focus on anything else for a few seconds. And when Arvid does not pull away, when his hand remains there like he has every right to be touching him like that, Liam feels himself melt a little under the contact.

He does not move away.

That alone feels like a decision.

In the past Liam might have shifted subtly, might have stepped aside or laughed it off to create distance again. But now he stays exactly where he is. If anything he leans just slightly into the touch without meaning to, drawn toward it by instinct rather than logic.

Arvid seems comfortable with it, which somehow makes it even harder for Liam to pretend the moment does not matter.

Over time it becomes something that happens more often. Not always the same gesture, but always something. A hand on Liam’s hip when they are standing close together. Fingers brushing his side when Arvid moves past him. A casual arm draped across the back of the chair behind Liam that slowly shifts until it rests against his shoulders.

Every time it happens Liam feels that same quiet reaction, the same warmth spreading through him that he cannot quite hide from himself anymore.

The crush he had tried so hard to suppress begins to bloom again, stronger now that he has stopped pretending it is not there.

It creeps in during small moments. When Arvid laughs and glances toward him like he expects Liam to laugh too. When their knees bump together under the table and neither of them moves away right away. When Arvid reaches for him without thinking, his hand finding Liam like it belongs there.

Liam had thought he could keep those feelings contained if he ignored them long enough.

Instead they grow.

He notices how easily Arvid gives him attention. Not the careless kind that people hand out without thinking, but the genuine kind that feels deliberate. When Liam speaks, Arvid listens. When Liam jokes, Arvid smiles like he actually finds it funny. There is a softness in the way he looks at him sometimes that makes Liam’s chest tighten in a way he cannot ignore.

And the touching does not stop.

If anything, it becomes natural between them. The kind of natural that only happens when two people stop questioning it. Arvid reaches for him the way someone might reach for a familiar comfort, his hand settling on Liam’s hip like it has found its usual place.

Every time it happens Liam feels that quiet, overwhelming fondness rise up again.

He loves the younger man’s touch. There is no point pretending otherwise anymore. Something about it feels grounding and warm in a way that makes Liam relax immediately. Even the lightest contact has that effect. A hand resting against him, fingers brushing his side, a brief squeeze of his waist when Arvid moves past him.

Each time it leaves Liam feeling a little softer than before.

And maybe Arvid notices.

Maybe he sees the way Liam does not pull away anymore. Maybe he notices the way Liam seems to lean toward him instead of stepping back. If he does, he never says anything about it.

But the attention he gives Liam continues.

Arvid looks for him in rooms. He calls his name first when something happens that he wants to share. When he laughs he often glances toward Liam automatically, like the moment feels incomplete if he does not include him in it somehow.

It becomes impossible for Liam to pretend that none of this means anything.

Being around Arvid feels nice. That is the simplest way to describe it, even if the feeling itself is more complicated than that. Nice in the way sunlight feels warm after a long stretch of cold weather. Nice in the way familiar music sounds when it drifts through a quiet room.

Comforting. Easy. Warm.

And the more time they spend like this, the more Liam feels that quiet crush inside him grow into something he can no longer ignore.

Still, he does not pull away.

If anything, he stays closer.

When VCARB has them do another skit, Liam expects it to be like the others.

Normal. Simple. Easy.

By now he is used to the cameras, used to the way the team likes to film small clips for social media between actual work. Short, harmless things meant to be funny or casual. Usually it means standing around with one of the other drivers while someone off camera gives vague instructions and hopes something entertaining happens.

It never feels like a big deal.

This one feels like that too, at first.

They are both relaxed during it, standing close the way they usually do now. Liam barely even notices how natural it has become for him to drift toward Arvid without thinking about it. A few months ago he might have kept a little distance, might have stayed aware of where he was standing.

Now he ends up beside him automatically.

The filming itself goes smoothly. Someone behind the camera laughs once or twice. Arvid plays along with whatever they had planned, easygoing and loose in a way that makes the whole thing feel effortless. Liam finds himself smiling without needing to fake it, responding to Arvid’s comments and the light teasing that always seems to slip into their interactions.

It feels natural. Comfortable.

After a few minutes someone says they are done.

At least Liam thinks they are.

He relaxes almost immediately once he hears that, the slight awareness of the camera fading from his mind. His posture shifts a little, shoulders loosening as he glances off to the side, already half distracted by something else happening further down the garage.

For a moment he forgets he is still standing there beside Arvid.

Then he hears it.

“Good boy.”

The words are spoken casually, almost softly, but Liam recognizes the voice instantly.

His head lifts before he can stop himself.

The reaction is immediate, automatic, like something instinctive has pulled his attention straight toward the sound. His eyes move up and he finds Arvid looking at him almost right away, like he had been waiting for that exact response.

Liam blinks.

For a second he just stares, confusion flickering across his face as his brain tries to catch up with what just happened.

Then his gaze shifts.

It flicks from Arvid to the phone being held not too far away from him. Someone from the media team is still there, the camera angled toward them again.

And suddenly it clicks.

Oh.

They wanted to see if he would react to that.

The realization hits all at once, bringing a faint rush of embarrassment with it. Liam can practically feel the heat creeping up the back of his neck as he processes the situation.

They had done this before. Something similar, something designed to see if he would respond to a certain phrase.

And he had fallen for it again.

In his head he immediately starts scolding himself.

Why did you look up?

He could have ignored it. Could have kept looking away, pretended he had not heard anything. That would have been the smarter response. The safer one.

Instead he had reacted instantly.

Now the camera definitely caught it.

Arvid is giggling softly beside him, the sound quiet but unmistakable. It carries just enough amusement that Liam knows exactly what it means. Arvid saw the reaction too.

Of course he did.

Liam presses his lips together slightly, trying to look mildly annoyed even though the feeling does not fully settle. Normally he would hate being called that. The phrase alone is enough to make him cringe when it comes from almost anyone else.

He hates it when people say it jokingly. Hates the teasing tone that usually comes with it, the way it tends to feel patronizing or overly familiar.

Usually he shuts it down immediately.

But right now he cannot seem to summon the same reaction.

Because it came from Arvid.

That one small difference changes everything in a way Liam does not want to think about too closely.

Instead of irritation, what he feels first is a strange twist in his stomach. Something warm and uncomfortable all at once, like his body has decided to betray him at the worst possible moment.

He swallows slightly, trying to force his expression back into something neutral.

It does not fully work.

Arvid is still smiling beside him, that quiet giggle fading into something softer as he watches Liam process what just happened. There is something playful in his expression, something knowing.

And Liam realizes, with a sinking feeling, that Arvid probably said it on purpose.

Just to see what would happen.

The thought makes Liam feel even more ridiculous.

Because the worst part is that he liked it.

The admission forms reluctantly in the back of his mind, something he wishes he could shove away before it settles properly. But once the thought appears it refuses to disappear.

He liked being called that by Arvid.

Not by anyone else. With anyone else the phrase would have irritated him immediately. He would have rolled his eyes, brushed it off, maybe even told them to knock it off.

But hearing it from Arvid is different.

Something about the way he said it makes Liam’s stomach flip again, that same strange warmth spreading through him before he can stop it. It is embarrassing how quickly the reaction shows up.

He hates that.

Or at least he thinks he should hate it.

Instead he just stands there, trying to act unaffected while his thoughts spiral quietly in the background. Arvid’s attention is still on him, which only makes things worse.

Because Liam realizes something else at the same time.

He likes that too.

He likes that Arvid was watching him closely enough to notice if he reacted. Likes that the comment was directed specifically at him, meant to get his attention and no one else’s.

The idea settles somewhere uncomfortable in his chest.

God.

He is pathetic.

The word echoes in his mind with quiet certainty. Liam shifts his weight slightly, crossing his arms like that might somehow hide the reaction he is trying so hard not to show.

Arvid is still smiling, clearly entertained by the entire thing.

“Got you again,” he says lightly, his voice warm with amusement.

Liam exhales through his nose, trying to muster a proper annoyed response. Something sarcastic, something dismissive.

“You’re annoying,” he mutters instead, though the words lack any real bite.

Arvid just laughs again.

And that laugh makes Liam’s chest feel even lighter than before, which only reinforces the thought already looping in his head.

Pathetic.

Because the truth is that he does not actually mind any of this.

Not the teasing. Not the comment. Not even the fact that the camera probably captured his reaction perfectly.

If anything, part of him is still focused on the way Arvid said those two simple words. The tone, the quiet confidence behind it, the way his eyes had already been on Liam when he spoke.

Like he knew exactly what would happen.

Liam looks away for a moment, pretending to be distracted by something across the garage again.

He can still feel the lingering warmth in his stomach.

And the worst part is that he knows if Arvid said it again, he would probably react the same way.

Liam sees the TikTok less than a day later.

He is not even looking for it. It just shows up while he is scrolling absentmindedly through his phone, half paying attention while he waits around in the garage with nothing immediate to do. The video starts playing automatically before he really registers what it is.

Then he hears a familiar voice.

“Good boy.”

Liam freezes almost immediately.

He already knows what clip this is going to be before the moment even appears on screen. There is a split second where he considers scrolling past it quickly and pretending he never saw it, but the video is already halfway through loading and his thumb hesitates just long enough for the moment to play.

There he is.

Standing next to Arvid, looking completely relaxed for about half a second before the words register.

And then the reaction happens.

On screen Liam’s head lifts instantly, his attention snapping straight toward Arvid like someone just called his name across a crowded room. The movement is quick and automatic. There is no hesitation, no attempt to hide it.

Just immediate recognition.

Watching it from the outside makes it look even more obvious than it felt in the moment.

“God,” Liam mutters quietly to himself.

He replays the video once more before he can stop himself.

It is worse the second time.

Without the confusion of the moment clouding things, he can actually see the full expression that crosses his face. His eyebrows lift slightly, his eyes locking onto Arvid without question.

For a brief second he honestly does look a little lost.

Like he had been distracted and suddenly heard something that pulled him right back.

Like a puppy hearing its name.

Liam drops his phone against his chest with a quiet groan.

He kind of looked like a lost puppy.

The thought sticks in his mind whether he likes it or not. It is not even an exaggeration. The reaction is so quick, so instinctive, that it almost feels embarrassing to watch from the outside.

Of course the comments are already filled with people pointing it out.

He scrolls through a few of them despite knowing it is a bad idea.

Most of them are laughing about it.

Some people are making jokes about how fast he reacted. Others are pointing out the exact frame where his attention snaps toward Arvid like a switch flipped somewhere in his brain.

Liam sighs quietly.

He should probably be more bothered by it than he is.

Normally he would hate this kind of attention, especially when it revolves around a moment where he looked so obviously reactive to something someone else said. He would roll his eyes, close the app, maybe complain about it a little under his breath.

But when he looks back at the video again, something else stands out.

Arvid’s reaction.

The camera had caught him smiling almost immediately after Liam looked up. Not just smiling either. He is clearly trying not to laugh, his shoulders shaking slightly like he finds the entire thing genuinely amusing.

That part makes Liam pause.

Because Arvid thinks it is funny.

Not in a mean way. Not like he is mocking him or trying to embarrass him. The smile on his face in the video is warm, entertained in the kind of way that suggests he finds the reaction endearing rather than ridiculous.

And somehow that changes the entire way Liam feels about it.

He leans back slightly in his chair, glancing at the video one more time before locking his phone and setting it down beside him.

If Arvid finds it funny, then Liam does not really mind.

That thought settles easily in his mind.

He cannot really be bothered to care what anyone else thinks about it. The comments, the jokes, the people replaying the moment over and over again. None of that matters very much.

Not when Arvid clearly enjoyed it.

There is something strangely comforting about that.

In fact, if Liam lets himself think about it for a moment longer, he realizes something else.

Arvid called him cute once before.

Not directly, not in those exact words, but close enough that the implication had been engraved into Liam’s mind.

The memory flickers briefly in his mind and Liam feels the faintest twist of warmth in his chest.

He likes to think that maybe Arvid finds him cute.

The idea is nice.

Comforting in a way he cannot quite explain.

But the moment the thought appears, Liam immediately shuts it down.

He doubts it.

Arvid is friendly with everyone. Playful, relaxed, naturally affectionate in the way he interacts with people. It would be stupid to read too much into something small like that.

Still, the thought lingers quietly in the back of his mind.

Later that day Liam is sitting in the garage again, leaning slightly forward in his chair while scrolling through something on his phone. The atmosphere is calm for once. There is the usual background noise of people moving around, tools clinking softly somewhere further down the space, occasional voices drifting through conversation.

Arvid is sitting beside him.

That part feels normal now.

At some point they had fallen into the habit of ending up next to each other whenever they were both in the garage without anything specific to do. Liam does not remember exactly when it started happening so consistently, but now it almost feels automatic.

He barely notices the closeness anymore.

Until Arvid speaks.

“Does the good boy thing bother you?”

Liam blinks.

The question comes out of nowhere.

He glances up from his phone immediately, turning his head toward Arvid with clear confusion. For a moment he honestly wonders if he misheard him.

“What?”

Arvid is leaning back slightly in his chair, looking relaxed, but there is something curious in his expression.

“The good boy thing,” he repeats casually. “Does it bother you?”

Liam stares at him for a second.

They have never talked about that outside of filming before.

Whenever the phrase comes up it is usually part of some joke or skit, something meant to get a reaction for the camera. Once the clip is over, the moment usually just fades away like it never happened.

So hearing Arvid bring it up seriously catches Liam completely off guard.

“Uh,” he says slowly.

He glances down at his phone again for a second, mostly to buy himself a moment to think.

Because the honest answer is complicated.

Does it bother him?

Yes.

But also no.

It depends.

When other people say it, it usually irritates him almost immediately. The phrase tends to sound condescending when it comes from most people, like they are trying to tease him in a way that feels slightly patronizing.

With anyone else he would shut it down without hesitation.

But with Arvid?

That is different.

Liam presses his lips together slightly, trying to organize his thoughts into something that does not reveal too much.

“Depends, I guess?” he finally says.

Arvid tilts his head slightly, clearly waiting for more explanation.

Liam shrugs a little.

“Like.. who’s saying it.”

It is technically the truth.

He just leaves out the part where Arvid is the only person it does not bother him coming from.

Because the real answer feels far too embarrassing to admit out loud.

If it is Arvid saying it, Liam does not mind.

Actually, that is not even completely accurate.

He likes it.

The thought alone makes his stomach twist slightly in that familiar way. There is something about hearing it in Arvid’s voice that makes the words feel entirely different. Less like teasing and more like something directed specifically at him.

Something personal.

But Liam would never admit that out loud.

So instead he keeps his tone neutral, trying to make the response sound casual.

“Anyone else, it’s kinda annoying,” he adds after a moment.

That part is also true.

Arvid hums quietly beside him, like he is considering the answer.

Liam risks a quick glance in his direction.

There is that same small smile on Arvid’s face again. Not wide, not overly obvious, just a quiet curve at the corner of his mouth that suggests he finds the whole conversation interesting.

For a brief second Liam wonders if Arvid can tell he is leaving something out.

The thought makes him look back down at his phone quickly.

Because the one thing he is absolutely not going to say is the truth.

That when Arvid says it, he does not mind at all.

In fact, he kind of hopes he says it again.

“it’s cute, y’know?”

The comment comes easily from Arvid, like it is the most natural observation in the world.

Liam glances up from his phone again, his attention shifting back to him almost immediately. Arvid is sitting beside him the same way he had been for the last several minutes, relaxed in his chair with one arm resting along the side, his posture loose like he is in no rush to be anywhere else.

He is smiling a little.

Not the teasing kind of smile Liam sometimes expects during media shoots. This one is softer, more thoughtful.

“the whole good boy thing they do with you,” Arvid continues casually. “it’s a fun little joke.”

The way he says it makes it sound harmless. Light. Something he genuinely finds amusing rather than something he is trying to push for the sake of content.

Liam shifts slightly in his seat.

He is not entirely sure how to respond to that.

Arvid’s smile stays in place for a moment before his expression softens just a little more.

“but if it bothers you,” he adds, his tone changing slightly, “i don’t mind telling them i won’t say it.”

Liam blinks.

The sentence lands heavier than he expects.

Arvid hums quietly, glancing out toward the rest of the garage before looking back at him again
.
“whatever makes you more comfortable, y’know?” he says. “you don’t have to do everything media wants us to do.”

The words are simple. Straightforward. There is nothing dramatic about the way Arvid says them, no big emphasis or overly serious tone.

But Liam still feels something in his chest shift when he hears them.

“if it really does make you uncomfortable,” Arvid continues, shrugging slightly, “i’ll shut it down.”

For a second Liam just sits there.

He shifts a little again in his chair, his foot brushing against the floor as his posture adjusts almost restlessly. His mind lingers on what Arvid just said, replaying it once or twice like he needs to confirm he heard it correctly.

Because the implication is clear.

Arvid would actually tell the media team to stop.

Just like that.

No hesitation.

Liam cannot remember the last time someone offered to do something like that for him.

Actually, if he is being honest with himself, he is not sure anyone ever has.

The realization makes him feel strangely warm and uncomfortable all at once.

He keeps his gaze down for a moment longer than necessary before finally responding.

“..it’s alright,” Liam says quietly.

His voice comes out softer than he intended.

“don’t worry.”

He lifts his shoulders in a small shrug, trying to make the reassurance look casual.

Like it is not a big deal.

Because really, it should not be.

It is just a joke the media team likes to use during clips. A phrase that gets a predictable reaction. Something that makes people laugh.

That is all it is supposed to be.

Arvid does not look fully convinced.

“I’m serious,” he says, letting out a small huff of breath.

Liam finally looks back at him properly.

Arvid’s eyebrows have pulled together slightly, his expression carrying a hint of irritation that was not there a moment ago.

“they keep telling me to do it,” Arvid continues. “because i’m the only one you won’t bite the head off of.”

He says it like he is quoting someone else.

Then he mutters something under his breath.

“which isn’t true.”

The last part comes out quieter, almost grumbled in a way that suggests he does not like the statement very much.

Liam cannot help it.

A small smile slips onto his face.

The idea of Arvid getting worked up over something like that is unexpectedly amusing. Not because the situation itself is funny, but because the irritation clearly is not directed at him.

If anything, it seems like Arvid is annoyed on Liam’s behalf.

That thought alone makes the warmth in his chest grow a little stronger.

“They talk about it like you’re aggressive or something,” Arvid adds, still sounding faintly annoyed.

Liam exhales softly through his nose.

“Well,” he says lightly, “i mean..”

He trails off before finishing the sentence.

Arvid turns his head toward him again immediately.

“What?”

Liam shrugs again, leaning back slightly in his chair.

“i can be,” he admits.

That much is not exactly a secret.

He knows he has a reputation for snapping at people when he gets irritated. Especially when they push too far or try to tease him in ways he does not appreciate. It is not something he does intentionally most of the time, but it still happens often enough that people have noticed.

The media team probably has too.

Which is why they keep asking Arvid to be the one who says certain things during filming.

Because he is right.

Arvid is the only one Liam does not get irritated with when it happens.

That thought sits quietly in Liam’s mind for a moment.

The media team was not wrong.

If anyone else tried calling him that the way Arvid does, Liam would probably shut it down immediately. He would roll his eyes, make some sarcastic comment, or simply walk away.

But when Arvid says it?

The reaction is completely different.

Instead of irritation there is that strange twist in his stomach. That quick moment of warmth that he tries very hard not to think about too closely.

Arvid is watching him carefully now.

“You shouldn’t have to deal with stuff you don’t like just cause they think it’s funny,” he says.

Liam studies him for a second.

The seriousness in his voice is genuine. There is no teasing hiding behind it this time, no playful grin to soften the statement.

He actually means it.

Liam’s smile fades into something smaller.

“It’s fine,” he says again, quieter this time.

And it is.

Mostly.

Because while the phrase would absolutely bother him coming from someone else, that is not the case here.

He glances down at his hands for a moment before adding casually, “it’s just a dumb joke.”

Arvid seems to consider that.

“You sure?” he asks.

Liam nods once.

“yeah.”

He hesitates for half a second before continuing.

“i’d tell you if it wasn’t.”

That part is not entirely true.

He probably would not.

Admitting that the phrase bothers him would require explaining why it only bothers him when other people say it. And that explanation would lead into territory Liam is definitely not prepared to talk about.

So instead he leaves the statement simple.

Arvid studies his face for another moment before finally relaxing again.

“alright,” he says.

The tension that had crept into his posture eases slightly as he leans back in his chair again.

“just making sure.”

Liam nods faintly.

For a moment the conversation settles into quiet again, the usual sounds of the garage filling the space around them. Someone laughs somewhere further down the room. Tools clink faintly against metal.

But Liam’s thoughts are still lingering on what Arvid said earlier.

About shutting it down if it made him uncomfortable.

The idea keeps circling quietly in his mind.

It is strange, realizing someone would do that for him without hesitation.

He glances sideways at Arvid again.

Arvid has already shifted his attention elsewhere, looking across the garage at something happening near the front of the room. His expression has returned to its usual relaxed state, the earlier irritation fading away like it never happened.

Liam finds himself smiling slightly again.

It really is a little amusing how worked up Arvid got about the situation.

Especially since the media team was technically right.

Arvid is the only one who can say it without Liam getting irritated.

Liam knows that.

Arvid probably knows that too.

And even though he would never say it out loud, Liam also knows something else.

When Arvid says it, he does not just tolerate it.

He likes it.

A lot more than he probably should.

Arvid is quiet for a moment after that.

The conversation had seemed finished. Liam had already started drifting back toward his phone, the tension of the earlier topic fading slowly as the background noise of the garage filled the space between them again.

For a little while neither of them says anything.

Then Arvid pauses.

Liam does not notice it right away at first. He is half focused on whatever he had been scrolling through, only vaguely aware that the person sitting beside him has gone a little still.

A second later Liam feels Arvid glance over at him.

“..This might sound weird.”

Liam looks up again almost automatically.

Arvid is watching him with an expression Liam cannot quite place. Not quite nervous, but definitely hesitant in a way that feels unusual for him.

“like crazy,” Arvid adds.

He scratches lightly at the back of his neck, a small restless movement that makes Liam blink in confusion.

Arvid is usually confident when he talks. Relaxed. Casual.

Seeing him hesitate like this is unexpected.

“do you..” Arvid starts.

Then he pauses again.

Liam waits.

Arvid’s gaze flickers briefly away toward the floor before returning to him.

“like it?”

The question lands between them with surprising weight.

Liam freezes.

The reaction is immediate and complete. For a moment his brain simply stops processing things properly, stuck somewhere between confusion and sudden realization.

He stares at Arvid.

Arvid stares back for about half a second.

Then his expression changes.

It is almost comical how quickly he seems to realize what he just said out loud.

“Oh,” Arvid blurts quickly, already leaning forward a little like he is trying to physically take the words back. “i just ask because it’s only me you don’t get irritated with, apparently, and i was just wondering if it was because it was me.”

The explanation comes out quickly.

Too quickly.

Like his brain is trying to outrun the awkwardness that settled into the air the moment the question left his mouth.

“or,” Arvid continues, stumbling slightly over the sentence now, “if you just liked being called it.”

He pauses again.

Liam still has not said anything.

That silence seems to make Arvid even more aware of how strange the question must sound.

“god,” he mutters suddenly.

He leans back again, rubbing his face lightly with one hand.

“that’s a stupid question.”

His voice drops into something closer to embarrassed frustration.

“forget i said anything.”

The last part comes out quieter.

Almost mumbled.

Arvid looks away from him completely now, his attention shifting somewhere across the garage like he suddenly finds the floor far more interesting than continuing the conversation.

For a few seconds Liam just sits there.

Staring.

Because the problem is that Arvid was right.

Not just a little bit right either.

Completely right.

The realization settles slowly in Liam’s chest, heavy in a way that makes his stomach twist uncomfortably.

Everything he had been trying so carefully not to reveal, everything he thought he had been hiding well enough, Arvid had apparently already noticed.

The fact that he does not get irritated when Arvid says it.

The fact that his reactions are different.

All of it.

Arvid had seen it.

And now he had asked about it directly.

Liam’s brain scrambles for something to say.

Anything.

But the truth is sitting there in front of him now, impossible to ignore.

He does like it.

Not the phrase itself.

Not when it comes from anyone else.

But when Arvid says it?

Yeah.

He likes it.

That thought alone makes the uncomfortable twisting in his stomach worse.

Because if Arvid has already figured that much out, then what else has he noticed?

Liam had been so careful.

At least he thought he had been.

He tried not to react too strongly when Arvid touched him casually. Tried not to let his attention linger too long when they were talking. Tried not to let the quiet warmth he felt around him show too clearly.

But maybe it had been obvious anyway.

Maybe Arvid had noticed everything.

The possibility makes Liam feel strangely exposed.

He shifts slightly in his chair, finally breaking the stillness that had settled over him.

Arvid is still looking away.

There is a faint hint of red creeping up the back of his neck now, subtle but noticeable enough that Liam cannot miss it.

He really is embarrassed.

That realization softens something in Liam’s chest almost immediately.

Because Arvid clearly had not meant to put him on the spot like that.

He had just asked out of curiosity.

And now he probably regrets it.

Liam exhales quietly.

“You’re overthinking it,” he says after a moment.

Arvid glances back at him cautiously.

“am i?” he asks.

There is still a hint of embarrassment in his expression.

Liam shrugs slightly.

“yeah.”

The response is simple, but his voice sounds steadier now.

Arvid studies his face for a moment like he is trying to figure out if Liam is actually bothered by the question or just pretending not to be.

“i didn’t mean to make it weird,” Arvid mutters.

Liam huffs softly.

“too late for that.”

The comment earns a small laugh from Arvid despite himself.

The tension between them eases just slightly.

But the question itself is still hanging there in Liam’s mind.

Do you like it?

It should be easy to dismiss.

He could laugh it off. Make some sarcastic remark. Pretend the idea is ridiculous.

Instead he finds himself hesitating again.

Because Arvid already noticed the important part.

That it only works when it is him.

Liam glances down at his hands briefly.

“it’s not the phrase,” he says slowly.

Arvid tilts his head slightly.

“what do you mean?”

Liam hesitates.

God, this is going to sound stupid.

He knows it before he even says it.

“i just.. don’t mind it coming from you.”

The words feel awkward leaving his mouth.

Not exactly a confession, but definitely closer to honesty than Liam usually allows himself to get about things like this.

Arvid blinks.

“Oh.”

That single word carries a surprising amount of understanding behind it.

Liam feels the twisting in his stomach again.

Because now it really is obvious.

Arvid looks at him for another second before something like a slow smile spreads across his face.

Not teasing.

Not smug.

Just quietly amused.

“so it is because it’s me,” Arvid says.

Liam groans softly under his breath.

“don’t make it weird again.”

Arvid laughs.

But the expression on his face stays warm in a way that makes Liam’s chest feel tight all over again.

Because now there is a new thought creeping into his mind.

If Arvid noticed that much already, then maybe he has been paying more attention to Liam than Liam realized.

And that thought is somehow both comforting and terrifying at the same time.

After Liam admitted that it was different when it came from him, something between them shifted.

Not in a dramatic way.

Nothing changed overnight, and there was no moment where either of them openly acknowledged that something had become different. But the line that had existed before, the quiet boundary that kept things safely in the space of normal friendship, started to blur in small ways.

Subtle ways.

The first thing Liam noticed was the touching.

Arvid had always been casually physical with people. Liam knew that. It was part of his personality, part of the way he interacted with those around him. A hand on someone’s shoulder, an arm slung loosely across someone’s back when they were laughing about something.

But after that conversation, the way Arvid touched Liam seemed to change.

It happened more often.

And it lingered longer.

The first time Liam really noticed it was a few days later in the garage. They were standing close together while someone from the team explained something neither of them were paying very much attention to. Liam was half listening, half distracted by something happening further down the room.

Then Arvid’s hand settled on his waist.

Just like that.

Casual.

Easy.

Like it belonged there.

Liam went still for a split second before forcing himself to relax again. The warmth of Arvid’s hand seeped through the fabric of his shirt almost immediately, grounding and distracting at the same time.

Arvid did not move it.

The conversation around them continued normally. No one reacted to the gesture, and Arvid himself did not act like it was anything unusual.

But Liam could feel it.

The weight of that hand resting against his side.

And the quiet awareness that Arvid had chosen to put it there.

It started happening more after that.

Not in a way that seemed forced or deliberate, but in a way that felt natural enough that Liam could never quite point to the exact moment when it began.

Arvid would rest a hand on his waist while they stood talking to someone. Sometimes his fingers would curl lightly against Liam’s side when they were walking next to each other. Other times it was something smaller, like a hand briefly brushing the small of Liam’s back while guiding him through a crowded space.

Always some form of contact.

Always an excuse to touch him.

At first Liam wondered if he was imagining it.

But the pattern kept repeating.

And eventually it became impossible to ignore.

It was like Arvid had quietly decided that if Liam did not mind the contact, then there was no reason not to keep doing it.

More than that, Arvid seemed to enjoy it.

The touches were easy, natural, almost absentminded sometimes. But they were frequent enough that Liam started to notice just how often Arvid’s hand found him without thinking.

And Liam never stopped it.

Not once.

If anything he leaned into it.

The two of them started spending even more time together than they had before. It had already been common for them to end up in the same places throughout the day, but now it felt almost constant.

If Arvid was somewhere, Liam was usually nearby.

If Liam went somewhere, Arvid tended to follow.

People around them started joking about it occasionally.

Attached at the hip.

Liam heard someone say that once while they were both standing nearby. Arvid had laughed at the comment like it was harmless, his hand already resting lightly against Liam’s waist as if proving the point without realizing it.

Liam had not pulled away.

Because the truth was that he did not mind the description.

They talked more now too.

Longer conversations, more frequent ones. Sometimes about racing, sometimes about completely random things that had nothing to do with work at all. It felt easy, the kind of effortless communication that made time pass faster without either of them noticing.

Liam found himself looking for Arvid without thinking.

Across the garage. Across a room. Even in crowded places where it should have been difficult to pick someone out quickly.

His eyes always found him.

And when they did, Arvid was often already looking back.

Those moments made Liam’s chest feel strange every single time.

The closeness between them kept growing in small ways that neither of them addressed directly.

Sometimes they stood so close while talking that their shoulders brushed together.

Sometimes Arvid’s hand would drift from Liam’s waist to the small of his back and stay there while they walked.

Sometimes Liam caught himself leaning toward him without even realizing it.

Each moment felt small on its own.

But together they built something that was becoming harder and harder to define as simple friendship.

Liam noticed it most during quiet moments.

When the garage was calmer.

When they were sitting close together with nothing urgent happening around them.

He started catching himself staring.

Not intentionally.

It would just happen.

Arvid would be talking about something, his attention focused on explaining a point or telling some story, and Liam would find his gaze drifting lower without meaning to.

Toward Arvid’s mouth.

Toward the way his lips moved when he spoke.

The realization always came a second too late.

Liam would blink and force his attention back up again, hoping Arvid had not noticed the shift in focus.

But the thought lingered afterward.

He wondered what it would feel like.

To kiss him.

The idea appeared more often than Liam was comfortable admitting.

At first it had only been a fleeting thought, something that passed through his mind quickly enough that he could ignore it.

Now it stuck around longer.

Sometimes when Arvid laughed.

Sometimes when he leaned closer while talking.

Sometimes when his hand rested against Liam’s waist and neither of them moved away.

In those moments Liam found himself wondering what it would be like to close that last bit of distance between them.

To see if Arvid’s lips felt as soft as they looked.

The thought made his stomach twist every time.

Not just from nervousness.

From uncertainty.

Because there was one major problem with the entire situation.

Liam had no idea if Arvid even liked guys.

That fact sat heavily in the back of his mind every time the thought crossed it.

For all Liam knew, Arvid might not even consider the possibility.

Maybe the touching meant nothing beyond casual affection. Maybe the closeness between them was just the result of two friends getting along well.

Liam had no way of knowing.

And the uncertainty made him hesitant to push anything further.

The situation was even more confusing because Liam himself had never really thought about any of this before.

If someone had asked him a year ago whether he liked guys, he probably would have given a vague answer or shrugged the question off entirely.

He had never spent much time questioning it.

Then Arvid happened.

And suddenly Liam found himself staring at another man’s lips, wondering what it would feel like to kiss him.

That realization alone had taken time to process.

Even now it still felt strange when he thought about it too directly.

Because the truth was simple.

Liam had not known he liked guys until Arvid.

And now that he knew, he had no idea what to do about it.

So instead he stayed exactly where he was.

Close to Arvid.

Letting their hands brush together.

Letting Arvid’s arm settle across his waist whenever he felt like it.

Letting the line between friendship and something more grow blurrier every day.

It did not happen slowly.

For weeks, maybe even months, the line between them had been getting thinner and thinner, fading little by little until Liam sometimes wondered if it was still there at all. The touches, the closeness, the way they seemed to orbit each other wherever they went. It had all been building toward something, even if neither of them had said it out loud.

Still, nothing had actually happened.

Not really.

There had been moments where Liam thought maybe it might. Moments where Arvid stood a little too close, where their eyes met for a little too long, where Liam caught himself staring at his lips again and had to look away before the thought went any further.

But the moment never came.

Until the race where Arvid got his first podium.

The entire weekend had already felt tense in that particular way race weekends always did. The paddock had been loud, busy, full of the constant movement of people rushing from one thing to the next. Liam had been focused on his own race most of the time, trying to keep his attention where it needed to be.

Still, he kept noticing Arvid.

It was hard not to.

They crossed paths a few times over the weekend, exchanging the usual quick words, brief touches that had become second nature between them. A hand brushing Liam’s side as Arvid passed him in the garage. Liam bumping their shoulders together in passing conversation.

Nothing unusual.

But there had been a quiet excitement around Arvid that weekend. Something in the way the team talked about his pace, something in the way Arvid himself carried that slightly sharper focus in his expression.

Liam noticed it.

And when the race started, he found himself glancing at the timing screens more often than he probably should have.

By the time the race was nearly over, it had become clear that Arvid was in a position no one had really expected.

Third place.

A podium.

Liam was still fighting through his own race, focused on bringing the car home cleanly. The final laps passed in the usual blur of concentration and noise, the track rushing beneath him as he pushed the car to the line.

When the race ended and he finally crossed the finish, the result came through his radio.

P6.

A solid result.

But Liam barely had time to think about it.

Because the first thought that hit him the moment the car slowed down was not about his own finish.

It was about Arvid.

Third place.

His first podium.

The moment the car rolled to a stop and Liam climbed out, the paddock already buzzing around him, that thought took over completely.

He barely even finished the usual post race routine before he was moving again.

Helmet off.

Gloves pulled free.

Someone from the team tried to say something to him, but Liam was already stepping past them, scanning the area quickly.

He needed to find him.

The paddock was crowded.

Drivers, team members, media, all moving through the space in a chaotic rush now that the race was over. Liam weaves through the crowd as quickly as he can, his eyes darting around as he searches.

Arvid should be somewhere nearby.

Usually drivers head toward the media area or back toward their teams after finishing.

But Liam cannot see him anywhere.

He pushes past another group of people, glancing toward the parc fermé area.

Nothing.

His heart is still racing, though he cannot tell if it is from the race or the urgency building in his chest.

Someone congratulates him as he passes, but Liam barely registers the words.

He keeps moving.

Where the hell is he?

After another minute of searching the paddock without luck, Liam changes direction.

The garage.

That is the next logical place.

He moves faster now, almost jogging as he pushes through the final stretch of the paddock toward the team area. His mind is already racing ahead, imagining the look on Arvid’s face when he finally sees him.

First podium.

The thought makes Liam grin even before he gets there.

By the time he reaches the garage entrance he is breathing a little heavier than before, but he barely notices.

He steps inside.

For a second he just scans the space quickly.

Then he sees him.

Arvid is standing a little further back inside the garage, surrounded by a few team members who are still talking excitedly about the result. There is a grin on his face, wide and bright in a way Liam has never seen before.

The sight of it hits him instantly.

And Liam cannot help it.

He grins too.

The feeling that floods through him is immediate and overwhelming. Pride, excitement, relief, all tangled together in a way that makes his chest feel light.

Without thinking, he moves.

“Arvid!”

His voice cuts through the noise in the garage.

Arvid looks up almost immediately.

The moment their eyes meet, something shifts.

Arvid’s smile grows even wider, and Liam is already moving toward him before another thought can form.

He crosses the space between them quickly, weaving past a couple of surprised team members.

Then he reaches him.

Liam does not hesitate.

He pulls Arvid straight into a hug.

His arms wrap around him tightly, the momentum of his rush carrying them a step backward as the embrace lands with more force than Liam intended.

“Mate, you did it,” Liam laughs breathlessly.

For a moment everything feels simple.

Arvid’s arms come up around him in return, the familiar warmth of his body pressed close as they hold each other in the middle of the garage.

Liam barely gets his arms fully around him before something changes.

Arvid moves suddenly.

One of his hands slides up the back of Liam’s neck, fingers curling briefly into his hair.

Then Arvid grabs the back of his head.

And pulls him forward.

Liam barely has time to process what is happening.

One second they are hugging.

The next Arvid’s lips are on his.

The kiss is sudden.

Direct.

For a split second Liam’s brain completely short circuits.

He freezes.

Not pulling away, but not responding yet either, caught off guard by the sheer unexpectedness of it.

Arvid’s hand is still at the back of his head, steady and firm, holding him close as the kiss presses between them.

Then Liam’s brain finally catches up.

And everything else disappears.

The noise of the garage fades away.

The movement of people around them stops mattering.

All Liam can focus on is the warmth of Arvid’s lips against his.

And suddenly all those moments from before rush through his mind at once. The way he had caught himself staring at Arvid’s mouth. The way he had wondered what it would feel like.

Now he knows.

His hands tighten slightly where they are still resting against Arvid’s back.

And this time, Liam kisses him back.

Notes:

early birthday gift to nyself cause it’s tmr!! 😋 this was definitely not meant to be this long but 😭 BUT! please feel free free to leave comments/kudos they r so very appreciated and i love knowing what you thought!!