*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧—chapter three: you can bounce back

POE NEVER HAS THE BEST MORNINGS. Nowadays, it's either he wakes up tired or he wakes up hungry. But it's only a problem when he's staying at his dad's, though. When he's staying the night at the Rosbergs' because Marlon had to work the night shift for one of his jobs, Poe's fine.

This morning is different, however.

Climbing out of bed and leaving his bedroom, Poe rubs his eyes as he makes his way through the hall, entering the living room. He was going to go to the kitchen to reheat some leftovers for breakfast, but stops when he sees Marlon seated at the counter, tiredly running a hand over his face.

On days like this where Marlon isn't working, it was unusual to see the man awake at eight o'clock in the morning. He usually sleeps in until around noon.

At the sound of Poe's footsteps, Marlon turns around in his seat to look at the boy.

"Papa?" Poe glances toward Marlon, noticing the state he's in currently. His hair is sticking to his face from sweat. There's bags under his eyes, his lower lids puffy and violet and crimson marring the skin. His pupils are dilated. His skin is pale. He looked a complete wreck. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay, Poe," Marlon answers, his voice hoarse and quiet as he gives the boy a tight-lipped smile.

Poe shakes his head. "No. Something's wrong. You're ill."

"I'm fine." The man gets down from the stool at the counter and nearly loses his balance, having to hold on to the counter so he wouldn't fall. "Merde..."

He squeezes his eyes shut, leaning against the counter and bringing his hands up to massage his temples. His head is throbbing and his hands are shaking.

"Poe, could you get me some water, please?"

The boy's already in the kitchen by the time the last word left Marlon's mouth. As he walks past the sink and heads over to the refrigerator, he notices a nearly empty glass bottle next to the far wall. A frown forms on his face and he looks up and meets Marlon's gaze. "Papa... you've been drinking..."

"I've... Yes..." Marlon averts his gaze. "But don't worry about that, it's not a concern for you. It's my problem, not yours."

Poe worries his bottom lip between his teeth as he pulls open the door to the refrigerator and takes out a bottle of water. Closing the door, he heads back over to where Marlon was, and, without a word, hands him the water bottle.

"Thank you." Marlon takes the bottle from him and nearly spills it on himself while unscrewing the cap. He drinks about half of it before putting the cap back on.

Poe takes that as his cue to grab the bottle and head back into the kitchen to put it away. When he opens the refrigerator to put the water bottle away, he takes note of the box of food from the beginning of the week. Most of the containers of food are still there, untouched and unopened.

"You haven't been eating," the boy says, turning around to face the man. "Papa..."

Marlon swallows thickly, a shaky breath leaving his lips as he meets his son's eyes. "I'm fine, Poe. I promise."

"Non..." Poe says quietly, his voice trembling as he makes his way back over to him and takes a seat in the stool beside him. "Non, vous ne l'êtes pas. Arrête... Je ne veux pas que tu me mentes, Papa."

"Je ne mens pas."

"Yes, you are."

Marlon sighs. "Oui..." He lowers his head, covering his face with his hands. "It's just been a stressful week..."

Silence sits between the father and son. They don't even make eye contact after that. Marlon is staring at the nearly empty bottle of by the fridge. Poe is picking at his hands.

"I don't want to lose you, Papa," the boy whispers, breaking the silence as he looks up at him.

"You won't lose me, Poe," the man reassures him, rubbing his back comfortingly. "I'll always be here for you."

"Do you promise?" Poe asks, holding out his pinky finger. "Pinky promise?"

"Pinky promise." Marlon links their pinkies together.

✧ ✧ ✧

It's sometime in 1995 when Poe attends a karting race. Nico isn't exactly ten years old just yet, but he would be in just a few months. Poe is already ten.

Nico doesn't really remember what happened the day of his race. It had all been a blur, different images flashing in his mind and he wasn't able to decipher one distinguishable thing from the events today. He wants to remember, but it was proving difficult to stay focused on when it all started.

He had been leading the race, the adrenaline coursing through his veins making him feel more alive than ever before.

But the moment hadn't lasted long.

One of the karters that was trailing behind him had been too close. The overtake had failed and the sides of the karts had come in contact with each other. The speed and force of the collision had caused Nico's kart to lose control, sending the vehicle spinning out across the asphalt. Luckily his kart hadn't flipped, but it had crashed straight into a barrier, the impact knocking the wind out of him.

"Scheiße!" The curse slips from his mouth in German before he can even think. The world's spinning around him and the sound of the other karts going by is mixed with the sound of his strained breathing.

He struggles to climb out of his kart, stumbling once his feet come in contact with the ground. He leans against the front of the kart, his head lowered in disappointment. And he can't fucking breathe. His chest feels tight and he's gasping for air. A hand reaches toward his chest, clutching at the fabric of his race suit. Reaching toward his helmet, he unclips the strap on the his helmet and pulls it off, the fresh air that's now filling his lungs a much better feeling than before when the helmet was on, making him feel like he was being squeezed so tightly that he would explode into a million pieces. Maybe it had just been the dread that had filled in that moment when he knew he wasn't going to win the race now.

The win had slipped right through his fingers, and there was no chance of getting it back.

He sits in the grass, setting his helmet on the ground. He rests his head in his hands as he sits there with a bitter look overcoming his features, contemplating the disastrous moment. He still could've raced maybe, at least finished it, but he was filled with more embarrassment and anger than anything else. Besides, his kart was a bit dinged up and he didn't want to risk having some other accident in the middle of the race.

It's only a few moments later when his kart is wheeled away and he's getting checked by a medic in the medical tent that Poe is by his side.

"Vous allez bien, Nico?" the Monégasque boy questions.

Nico's grateful that Poe cares. He has friends, but not one as special as the McKenna boy. Ever since that night when they were nine years old, Nico was certain he'd be friends with him forever. Best friends even.

"Je vais bien," he answers, giving him a smile. "Juste un peu étourdi."

"I'm still proud of you, Nico," Poe says, returning the smile. "It was a good race! You were just unlucky."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Mhm! Besides the dizziness, I'm just really disappointed... But it's okay because it's just one race." Nico climbs down from the bench and grins. "There's plenty of other races that I can win."

"Good mindset," Poe says with a nod as he giggles. "Come on, your parents are waiting." He grabs his hand and leading him back to where Keke and Sina were.

author's note
heyyy

08.09.24