Concursus

Crashing

He's been on the edge for a while now, the constant failures his club endured this season and it hasn't started properly yet. The "almosts" he had nearly every race, "not quite there" they said every time he scored a 2, "could be better" when he landed a 1, yet somehow when he brung a 3, they would still criticize him.

"Always fucking something" he swore under his nose, fingers tightly gripping the helm in his sweaty hand, fury in every solid step Rafał took.

"I have to admit, I'm not quite sure I want to race with you when you look like you want to burn this whole place down" Said Hubert, chewing on his bottom lip nervously.

Yes, of course. Adrenaline was always a boost for them, but the emotions that came with it, the bad kind of intensity such as anger and frustration, Hubert knew it could let a person into a reckless state. Whether to prove, no one in particular since there were only the two of them there (spare for a few employees pacing around) and to that - non of them were to judge him, or to win against the snarky remarks thrown Rafał's way right now only present inside the boy's head, he was determined to show his best and Hubert was well aware that in such state, the "best" of Rafał, may not be the best in his actions.

"Shut up and ride" Barked the older, the helm already secured on top of his head, barely covering the fire within the blonde's eyes.

"You moron" Scoffed Hubert, setting up his own safety measures, side eyeing the sun setting behind the stadium's seats.

"Great" He though "Not only is he fueled up but the sun is going down, if he's so persistent God knows if he won't be persistent enough to race even in the fucking dark"

Hubert could say no to that, to a dangerous race in the darkness slowly setting around them, barely any of the lights still on, since no one really knew they were to train today. He could curse his friend, repeatedly call him a "moron" a few times but he was well aware that still, Rafał would train by himself till late at night, till he was out of breathe, all sweaty and exhausted. And somehow the thought of him, speeding alone on the track with his head full of determination made Hubert shiver violently, perhaps it was better he was there as well.

Beads of sweat rolled down his brow and they have not even raced yet, Hubert dared not to acknowledge it was due to the nerves buzzing in his veins. The tight grip he had on the steering wheel prompted the tight knot in the pit of his stomach.

He barely registered he was holding his breath when the sound indicating the start of a race sounded in his ears, pulsing with immense loudness against his skull.

The race was on.

Knowing how much Rafał wanted to prove, to himself the most, something Hubert didn't even grasp at all. Because in his own mind his friend was a wonderful racer, he should perhaps go easy on him. But also knowing that his friend would be even more furious for not being treated seriously and also due to his own pride because a race was a race after all, he put his mind aside, letting his skills get the better of him.

It wasn't easy, there were a few close calls, too close for his liking and as he predicted, too much of recklessness in Rafał's actions, he could hear the faith voice of their couch screaming at them as if he was present. But in that moment, as they approached the last lap, the motor's wheels screeching loudly nothing else mattered but the sheer fire pumping their blood, rushing their hearts.

Later on, Hubert would have to admit, the trembling of his heart came also from the image of his dear friend looking so divine on his motor, as if he was racing for the champions trophy that day. The flush on his face due to the thought of realization that Rafał could be so determined every time, doing his best even when no one else was watching, images of him trying his best always despite the not so scarce judging remarks he received.