evita 😘
you ready to go to the track?

fran <3
you go
i'll just meet you there

evita 😘
you're not sick are you?
there's something going around at haas and am

fran <3
don't worry, i'm not sick
just tired
i'll be fine

evita 😘
let me know when you get here
i love you!

fran <3
<3

...

It was safe to say Evita was worried about Franco. It wasn't like him to cancel their planned breakfast, leaving Evita to order room service in her hotel room alone. And now he wanted to go to the track without her. Evita supposed he was just nervous, with this race being so close to home. She knew he didn't want to let his fans down, but his behavior was still strange.

When Evita arrived at the track, she headed straight for the Williams motorhome, hoping to get some work done before Franco arrived for a brief media training session. She was in the middle of drafting up an email to her boss, Anthony, about Evita's plans for the 2025 season. She had a few options. She was in her last year of school, so she was granted enough time off to finish the year, withoout worrying about any work duties, unless she wanted to work at the Grove a few nights a week.

Evita's biggest issue was who she would be working with this year. Franco had offers from other teams, the most enticing being from Redbull. Assuming he left Williams to join the larger team, Evita could go with him. Or she could stay and work with Carlos when he joined the team at the end of the season. Both options would earn her a similar salary, so money wasn't a concern. Evita was more worried about the implications moving teams would have on her relationship with Franco. Thankfully, Evita's decision didn't have to be made that day, so she still had time to weigh her choices.

Evita was lost in thought when Franco arrived to the media room, his head low, cap pulled over his eyes. There was something about his posture that immediately made Evita concerned. She quickly grabbed her belongings and made her way over to him.

"Let's go find a room," she said softly, her voice barely audible above the chatter in the media room.

They found an empty conference room and entered it, Evita closing the door behind them. She leaned against it and looked at her boyfriend, her brows knitted with worry. He was picking at his fingernails, the way she did when she was anxious, which was all the time. She reached out, her hand gently touching his arm, causing him to pause.

"Franco," she said softly, brushing over his arm with her thumb. "Talk to me. What's going on?"

Franco still didn't look at her. His jaw clenched, his muscles pulled taught as if he were holding something back from her. "It's nothing, Ev," he mutted, his voice strained. "I told you. I'm just tired."

Evita's heart ached at the sound of his voice. It was so devoid of the usual energy she usually associated with him. She could see through his lies, and it hurt to see him struggle alone. She pushed off the door and stepped closer to him. She tried to catch his eye, but his gaze was still firmly on the carpet at their feet, as if looking at Evita would unravel the last of his composure.

"I don't believe you. I know you, Fran. Something's wrong."

For a moment, Franco didn't respond. His shoulder slumped, the weight of whatever he was carrying clearly to much to bear. Evita's heart twisted in her chest as she waited, her hand still on his arm as she silently begged him to let her in.

"I don't want to talk about it," he snapped, though there was no real anger in his voice. He sounded exhausted, defeated even.

Evita flinched at his tone but didn't back down. It was moments like these she was glad she was so stubborn. "You don't have to tell me," she said gently, her hand sliding down his arm to take his. "But I'm here. You don't have to deal with this alone."

Franco finally looked at her, hiss eyes glassy. He looked like he wanted to say something, but couldn't. His grip tightened around her hand, almost desperate, as if he was holding on to her for support.

Evita stepped closer to him, her free hand coming up to rest on his chest. She could feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath her palm. "It's okay to let someone else help," she whispered.

Franco let out a shaky breath and clossed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, they were filled with so much pain it made Evita's chest tighten. "I'm sorry." His voice was barely audible. "I'm sorry for shutting you out, Ev. I just don't know how to deal with this."

His voice broke, and the sound threatened to shatter Evita's heart for him. Without thinking twice, she pulled him into her arms, wrapping herself around him as tightly as she could. Franco didn't resist. He collapsed agaisnt her, his arms slipping around her wist as he buried his face in her shoulder.

He was trembling, his breaths shaky and uneven as he held on to her, as if she was the only thing keeping him from falling apart completely. Evita could feel the silent sobs wracking his body. She didn't say anything, just held onto him, her hand gently stroking his back. She hoped the little comfort she could provide was enough for him.

After a few minutes, Franco finally pulled back, just enough to look at her. His arms were still firmly around herr waist, holding onto her like a lifeline. His eyes were red and glassy, the sadness stil lingering.

"I'm ssorry," he said. "It's just-"

"You don't have to explain," Evita whispered, her thumb brushing a stray tear away from his cheek. "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

For a moment, Franco just looked at her, his expression softening as Evita's words settled over him. Then, with a small nod, he leaned down to press a soft kiss to her forehead.

"Thank you," he said softly. "I love you so much."

Evita smiled up at him. "I love you too."

Franco pulled away from her and walked over to the conference table.

"What are you doing?" asked Evita.

Franco turned, tilting his head at her with confusion. "Don't we have a meeting?"

"Not anymore," said Evita. "Clearly you're going through something right now, so we're not going to worry baout any media shit today. We can hang out here until you have to leave for your engineering meeting. I'll talk to Anthony about cancelling your fan stage duties and other media obligations. I'll just say you're sick and taking it easy so you'll be fit for practice and qualifying."

Franco smiled at her, and it was filled with nothing but love and adoration for her, most of the sadness he had held in his eyes earlier was gone.

"You are a fucking angel," he said, crossing the room again to hug her. Evita leaned in to him, before standing on her tiptoess to plant a kiss on his cheek.

"Just doing my job," she said. "I hope that's enough."

He didn't have to say anything, but Evita knew it was more than enough.