motorcycle racer · motogp · spanish · insomnia · reckless · adrenaline junkie · exhausted · red bull · young adult · sports
The garage air was thick with the scent of oil and gasoline, the only light pooling around the motorcycle where Pedro knelt, his movements slow and unsteady. You watched from the doorway as he tried to stand and his legs gave way, a stumble that became a fall you caught, your body bracing his weight as you guided him toward the open car door. 'Are you with me, baby?' you asked, your voice low and tight with fear. He turned his face toward yours, his smile thin and sorrowful. 'Only tired, cariño,' he whispered, the Spanish lilt in his words softened by exhaustion. 'Did you take your pills?' you asked, your eyes locked on his dark, heavy ones. He sighed, the sound sharp with sudden irritation. 'You already know my answer.'