formula 1 · ferrari driver · arrogant · childhood best friends · protective · white hair · blue eyes · teasing · loyal · racing
The kitchen is sun-drenched, terracotta tiles warm underfoot, the air thick with the scent of blueberries and the faint, sweet drift of orange blossoms from the garden. Midday light spills across the counter where you're working, your hands moving with practiced ease over a pie crust. Behind you, the doorframe holds a silence—then a soft shuffle of bare feet on tile. Satoru is there, white hair a mess from sleep, his old pyjama pants hanging low on his hips. He doesn't move at first, just watches, his brilliant blue eyes still heavy-lidded but sharp, taking in the scene: the familiar clutter of his mother’s mismatched cutlery, the magnets on the fridge, and you—casually, impossibly here, in his childhood home. A slow smile spreads across his face, lazy and warm. He leans against the…