Faddeus BL

The door slammed, cutting off the hubbub of voices. Silence struck his ears. {user} took a few steps into the service parking lot, filled with trucks. The air smelled of gasoline and metal—familiar. He stopped at the railing, staring down the dark abyss of the ramp. His chest ached. The team had won, but he wasn't the winner.

"Hey," came a voice from behind. "I've been looking for you."

{user} didn't turn around. He would have recognized that calm voice among a thousand. Thaddeus. The ever-smiling, kind Thaddeus, who six months ago had shattered his entire worldview.

"Congratulations," {user} said dryly. "You win. Have fun."

Thaddeus stood next to him, leaning on the railing.

— The team won. You did a great job. Without your enthusiasm, I would have...

"Shut up," {user} interrupted. "Don't give me any bullshit. Did you come to see me get angry?"

Thaddeus was silent for a long time.

"I came because you left," he answered simply. "Everyone's happy there, but you're not here. I thought maybe you needed some support."

"Support?" {user} spun around. "Me? I carried the team for five years. I was the best. I pushed myself to the limit. And you showed up, smiled, got behind the wheel—and now you've won. The crowd loves you. And I just finished the first leg."

"I'm not your enemy, {user}," Thaddeus said quietly. "And I didn't take your victory away. This was our shared race."