Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I understand this kind of news can be overwhelming,” The doctor says once she’s finished delivering the diagnosis, collected and clearly rehearsed, “so if you need to take a moment that is completely okay. We have specialists to refer you to for mental support during this period.”

Rain hammers against the small hospital window as time grinds to a halt the second the pair of them manage to process what they have just been told.

Sava feels a tear roll down his cheek but doesn’t wipe it away.

This can’t be happening. Not to them. Not to the sweetest soul he’s ever known.

It’s not fair.

“What are our options?” He asks, hand gripping Bez’s tightly as he tries not to spiral too quickly, begging his brain to hold onto any sense of rationality. Bez seemingly checked out of the conversation at the word ‘cancer’, staring blankly forward and letting the realisation wash over him in waves.

“Well, I’m afraid it is terminal, due to the fact that it has reached stage four it is practically incurable at this stage. There are some experimental courses of treatment available in America, though the rates of survival are currently unknown and the treatment plans are very expensive. Chemotherapy can also help to prolong the lifespan, as well as certain surgeries, but these options would only succeed in prolonging the lifespan by 3-6 months.” The doctor informs them, voice professional yet solemn. Sava wonders how many people she has had to deliver this same news to. 

“We’ll take the expensive option. We’ll fly out. If there’s even the slightest chance of survival then that’s what we’ll go with.” Sava declares, squeezing Bez’s hand as he does. 

“I should warn you both, any option which involves prolonging the lifespan would also involve a great deal of pain. More so than you are already experiencing as a result of your symptoms. Also, due to the extent of your condition, there is an even lower chance of it working than most of the early research suggests.”

“Well I can assure you Bez is nothing if not a fighter so we’ll be taking that experimental option. How much is it? Not that it matters.” He rambles, letting desperation overcome him slightly, hoping if he stays logical then he can stop the news from fully sinking in. More tears are flowing now but he doesn’t acknowledge them.

“I’m sorry Mr. Savadori but I need to hear it from Mr. Bezzecchi.” The doctor states, turning her attention to Bez, Sava follows her line of sight to see his lover staring meekly at the floor, face completely drained of any colour.

“Bez?” Sava asks, squeezing his hand a bit firmer to get him to look up. When he does, locking eyes with Sava finally, the older man’s breath hitches in his throat at the sight he’s met with. Bez’s eyes are hollow: red-rimmed and glassy. The bags that have been deepening for the past few months or so appear nearly black in contrast to the paleness in his face. 

Bez turns to the doctor and then back to Sava opening his mouth to speak before promptly covering it with his hand and rushing out of the room. Sava runs after him, calling his name the whole way. 

When he finally catches up to him, he walks into the room the younger man had ducked into to see a mop of curls hunched over a toilet bowl, throwing up between heavy sobs. Sava drops beside him, holding his hair back and whispering reassurances he doesn’t truly believe into his ear, his free hand coming up to draw little patterns on his back. 

“You’re okay, darling. Don’t worry, I’ve got you, bambino.” 

Eventually the vomiting stops, leaving Bez a crying, shaking mess scooped up by Sava’s arms and smearing tears, snot, and sick on his sweater. Neither care or even notice. They just hold each other as the world goes on around them, uncaring of the fact that their own has just shattered into a million pieces in front of their eyes. The rain is still audible from the bathroom, providing a dreary atmosphere to the already dreary autumn morning.

“I don’t want to do the treatment course.” Bez whispers into Sava’s shoulder between sniffs and hitching breaths.

“What?” Sava asks, hoping he’d just misheard him.

“I don’t want to do it. I can’t take the pain, Lory. I just can’t.” He says, more tears welling up with each word, streaming down his face and collecting under his chin and nose.

“But… No, Marco I don’t understand. If you don’t want to do the treatment plan then what are you gonna do? The chemo?” 

“No, Lory. I’m doing nothing.”

“But Marco, that means you’re… you’re-”

“Going to die, yes.” Bez finishes, bottom lip trembling as he tries to stave off the sobs that threaten to wrack his body. 

Sava wants to protest. Wants to scream at him for giving up this early on. Wants to hold him even closer and beg him to change his mind. But he’s long since learnt to try and get Bez to change his mind once he’s set on something. As well as that, he’d seen first hand the level of pain Bez has been in these last few months. What started off as the occasional dizzy spell and some light headaches became frequent fainting episodes, seizures, migraines so bad all he could do was bury his head in his hands and wait for it to pass in agony, and hour long periods of vomiting. And while it’s not currently every day, Sava knows that the good days will soon become fewer and far between, until it’s only bad days.

So instead of grabbing his shoulders and shaking him like he wants to, he simply pulls Bez in closer and silently accepts that their days together are numbered.

The acceptance doesn’t make the bone deep sorrow he’s feeling hurt any less. It hollows him out until he feels any movement could knock him off balance and shatter every bone in his body.

When they make it back to the consultant office, both of their tops stained with tear marks and drool, the doctor gives them a look of such honest sympathy it breaks them both just that little bit more. Their hands are still interlocked.

“Marco, have you made a decision about your course of action?” She asks, voice soft, but not to the point Bez feels like he’s being babied.

“Yes. Um… I’ve decided not to go forward with any treatment. I want to live out the rest of my days at home, not in a hospital.” Bez says, squeezing Sava’s hand on ‘home’.

“Very well. Now we still need to do a couple more tests. You’ll be referred back to a specialist at some point this week and then after that you’ll have to go to the pharmacy to pick up some medicines for pain relief and to help keep your seizures under control. Again, we understand this is tough news to hear so specialist help is available if you find you need it. Either of you. All you have to do is call.” She says, throwing them both pointed looks.

“We will. Is that all, doctor?” Bez questions, voice steadier than before.

“Yes, that’s it for now. We’ll call you as soon as we can with updates.”

It takes approximately ten seconds for Bez to start sobbing again once they close the car doors behind them.

“Oh fuck. Oh, God why me? Why? I don’t fucking get it?” He sobs into his sleeve. “It was only meant to be headaches, Sava. Just headaches.”

Save leans over the centre console and grabs the back of Bez’s skull, pulling their foreheads together.

“It’s so unfair. It’s so fucking unfair. But I’m here with you, and I won’t let anything hurt you, I swear.”

It’s a promise they both know he can’t keep, the tumors in Bez’s head ensuring that his last few months will be as painful as possible, but both decide to believe it. Just for a little while. 

They allow both of their breathing to calm down a little, exchanging a small kiss that speaks of reassurance, before they pull away.

“We have to go pick Rubik up from Vale and Marc’s.” Bez sniffs, wiping his nose with an already ruined sleeve.

“Should we tell them already?” Sava asks.

“I think we owe them that much, no?”

“Yes but we haven’t even talked about what all of this means between us yet.”

“I know, amore. Trust me I know but… we can’t keep this from them.” Bez sighs. “Besides, maybe they can help us figure out what to do.” Sava opens his mouth to argue again but the look in Bez’s eyes makes him shut up. He realises in that moment that it’s not really advice that Bez needs, but comfort. Whilst Sava will always be the first person he turns to for comfort, they both know that Vale is the only one who can provide the specific kind of comfort that he needs right now. Almost paternal. Sava has never taken Bez’s occasional need for Vale to heart, in fact he admires their closeness.

He nods and drives off after giving Bez one last lingering kiss. 

They pull up outside of Marc and Vale’s house (the smaller one in Misano, not far from where Bez and Sava live) after driving in silence, only the faint hum of the radio and Bez occasionally singing along under his breath filling the car. It feels horrifyingly normal. 

They both sit there for a second, reluctant to leave the small bubble they have created for themselves, knowing the second they step out it will all feel real. 

“What do we say?” Bez asks quietly, hands fiddling in his lap.

“We just tell them the truth.” Sava answers, turning his head to lock eyes with the shorter man who stares at him nervously. “Do you want me to do the talking?” 

“No, no I should do it.” Bez insists, though his tone is unsure: shaky and thin.

“You're the bravest person I know.” There's a degree of earnestness in Sava's voice that is so deep it nearly catches Bez off guard. They intertwine their hands once more and rest their foreheads against each other.

“I love you.” Bez whispers.

“I love you too.” 

They pull away before more tears begin to flow and make get out of the car, walking up the driveway like they've just been sentenced to death. In a way, one of them has.

“Ah, Bez! Here to pick up your son? He's missed you a lot. Him and Marzia are currently playing in the garden.” Vale says as soon as he swings the door open, leaning into both of them for a hug. Sava notices the way Bez clings on just a little tighter but doesn't let his smile falter. “Ah, ciao Sava! I didn't see you there! Come in the pair of you, you'll catch your death standing in that rain, come in.” 

They're quickly ushered in and the second the door shuts behind them, Bez hears the pitter patter of claws on hard wood as an overly excited Rubik bounds over to them, jumping up to greet Bez and licking wherever he can reach.

“Rubik, mio figlio, calm down. I missed you too, yes I did.” Bez mutters in, what Sava has fondly dubbed, his ‘Rubik voice’.

As Rubik excitedly switches between jumping up at Bez and jumping up at Sava, an excited young girl wearing a princess dress and holding a fairy wand comes running over from the same room, hugging Bez’s legs. Bez first met Marzia when she was adopted a few years ago, and due to having since been part of the ‘Academy Babysitting Rotor’, has gotten to know her quite well. If you were to ask him what his greatest achievements in life were, the first on the list would be his title as 2026 MotoGP World Champion, but not too far below that would be his title as ‘Marzia’s favourite uncle’. It was hard won, especially considering he had to beat her actual uncles, Luca and Alex, for the win. 

“Ciao Marzia!” Bez laughs, reaching down to ruffle her cropped curls. Though she’s adopted, he can’t help but think she bears a striking resemblance to both her fathers.

“Ciao Uncle Marco!” She greets, smiling up at him with wonky teeth and bright eyes. She turns to Sava and gasps “Uncle Lorenzo!”, as if she hadn’t noticed him yet, and raises her arms at him, making grabby hands. The man fondly rolls his eyes before picking her up and resting her on his hip. 

“Salve angioletta.” He says, nuzzling their noses together and making the girl giggle and squirm. As soon as he puts her down, she skips over to Rubik and resumes their playing by booping him on the nose with her fairy wand - a sight that makes Bez melt into Sava’s side.

“Marzia, chiquita, I think it’s nap time for-” Marc stops dead as he rounds the corner and spots Bez and Sava in the hallway, rushing over to them and engulfing them both in a hug. Despite being the same age as Sava and barely older than Bez, both can tell he feels strongly paternal towards them, something they find endless endearing.

“Hi mis chicos, how did the doctor’s appointment go?” Marc asks good naturedly. The atmosphere in the room freezes over in an instant when they both fall silent at the question.

“Bez? You’re fine right?” Vale asks. Bez’s mouth goes dry and he tries to speak, his knee jerk reaction being to assure them that he’s fine, but he closes his mouth and sighs when he realises that’s not the truth.

“Can we sit at the dinner table? We need to talk about something.” He finally mutters, feeling Sava’s hand slip into his for what feels like the millionth time that day. 

Marc and Vale share a glance, fear sparking in both their eyes as they nod and Vale leads the other two over to the dining room, Rubik following at their heels, as Marc quickly goes to put Marzia to bed.

Bez and Sava seat themselves opposite Vale, the air in the room thick with tension. Nobody is sure where to start.

There’s a good minute of silence after Marc returns, and Bez, finding the awkwardness stifling, decides to go right in at the deep end.

“I have cancer.” He says, not sure how to soften the blow. “Terminal. I have a few months left.”

The room falls back into silence when he stops talking.

Valentino wears an expression of disbelief, mouth hanging open and knuckles white where they grip the table to steady himself. Bez can practically see the cogs in his brain stop and then whir at a concerning speed as he attempts to process the information that has just been thrust upon him. Marc, on the other hand, looks completely blank at first and then promptly bursts into tears ten seconds later, hicupping and shaking. He falls into Vale, crying into his husband’s shoulder as the older man continues to stare at Bez as if he’d just grown another head.

“You… no you can’t have because… no, no I don’t understand, Marco. You’re fine. It was… you said it was just headaches, you… no this isn’t true.” Vale rambles nonsensically, shaking his head and getting increasingly more frantic as he speaks. “Bez, tell me this isn’t true.” He whispers the last part, voice breaking as he stops shaking his head, tearful eyes meeting Bez’s own.

“I’m sorry, Vale.” Is all Bez can bring himself to say, not sure how to comfort the clearly spiralling man in front of him.

Marc chooses that moment to get up and walk across to Bez, pulling him from his chair and engulfing him in a hug, head buried in his shoulder, still sobbing.

“Mi chico, mi dulce, mi bonito niño. ¿Cómo pudo esto suceder? ¿Por qué tú?” He wails between sobs. Bez can’t help but start to cry with him, both their knees giving out until they’re a crying heap on the floor. Rubik wanders up to them curiously, licking softly at them as if to ensure they’re okay. It only makes Bez cry harder.

Vale and Sava watch on, hearts breaking with each passing moment the gut-wrenching scene unfolds before them. Vale breaks them out of it to interrogate Sava with questions of treatment options, life span, and everything in between. Sava answers as best as he can to each of them, watching as Vale’s heart shatters and the light leaves his eyes in real time at some of his answers.

“So he’s not doing any treatment?” Vale asks, bordering on enraged.

“No.”

“Well, have you told him that’s stupid?” He scoffs, trying to hide the fact there are now tears streaming down his face. “If it’s money that's the issue then I’ll pay. Whatever it takes.” The words are an echo of Sava’s own. He takes in the way Vale’s lower lip quivers and the way his arms are crossed over his chest. It’s like looking in a mirror.

“Vale… he’s in so much pain. The doctor said any available treatment option would only make the pain worse. Besides, he- he says he wants to spend his final months at home, not in a hospital ward.” Sava mumbles, almost feeling guilty for having to deliver the information.

Vale drops his head into his hands, threading his fingers through his thinning hair and tugging, tears flowing freely and his shoulders shaking with the force of it.

“I can’t get my head round it. Why him, Sava? He’s the best soul I’ve ever known.” He chokes out, turning his head to stare at the crumpled pile of Bez and Marc on the floor. He turns back to Sava, eyes pleading and wet. He looks ten years older yet so, so young all at once. “Why him?”

“I don’t know. I wish I could tell you. I wish I was religious so I could tell you it’s God’s plan or some bullshit. But I don’t fucking know.” Sava sighs, willing the tears to stay away as he looks back at Bez. He has to stay strong, because he can’t expect Bez to be able to pick him up.

Bez is still on the floor, holding onto Marc who hasn’t stopped crying into his shoulder. Bez and Sava make eye contact over the top of the shorter man’s head and exchange small smiles. Sava isn’t ready to never be able to see that smile again.

Once everyone is collected, or about as collected as one can be in the wake of such news, they find themselves back at the dinner table drawing up a logistical plan for the next few weeks. The first people they’ll tell will be their family, then close friends, then Aprilia, and then finally a press announcement. Bez will, obviously, have to withdraw from the season. There’s a race coming up in two weeks which he will attend but not compete in. As badly as he wants to, his seizures make it too dangerous to get back on the bike, so he’s not allowed. It hurts to think he’s had his last race and he didn’t even realise it at the time. At least he got a podium, and at least he gets to die as the 2026 MotoGP champion after winning last year. It’s all about the small positives.

“I’m going to retire too.” Sava drops casually as they all speak about when best to inform Aprilia. 

“What?” Bez says, nearly sounding offended. “No, no you can’t retire. You finally got the factory seat, Sava. You’ve been waiting for that opportunity again for years, since your injury. You can’t just… No you can’t.” 

Sava grabs both of Bez’s shaking hands in his and pulls him in close, brown eyes locking with one another.

“You are more important to me than any of that. I don’t want to race if you’re not racing with me.” He says sternly. Resolute. He releases one of Bez’s hands to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. Bez had decided to grow his hair out after having the mullet, and it is now already looking the way it did back in 2022, luscious and curly, if not a little darker. Sava so enjoys running his fingers through it when they lie tangled together on the sofa, or tugging on it when things get hot and heavy, or washing it tenderly when they shower together. He’ll miss all of those things a lot.

“You promise you don’t mind?” Bez asks, eyes wide and glassy. “I don’t want to spend my last few months feeling guilty.”

“I promise. I think it was nearly time anyway, I’m an old man now.” Sava jokes lightheartedly, putting on a mock serious expression and eliciting a beautiful giggle from the other man.

“Ah, shush. You’re only six years older than me, you’re barely 34!” He laughs, shoving Sava with his shoulder affectionately. 

Normally, in this situation Vale would clear his throat and tease them about getting a room, but instead he lets them playfight back and forth, staring at them fondly and feeling a pang of sadness. How could anyone, no matter how all-knowing and omnibenevolent, take these two bonded souls away from one another. He’s never seen two people more perfectly suited to grow old together. And yet they won’t.

They keep going through the plan, putting together a rough draft of the statement that will eventually be released to the press, Bez thanking Marc and Vale profusely for their help with it. Marc and Vale discuss between them about how they’re going to break the news to Marzia that her favourite uncle won’t be around anymore, the concept of death a foreign one at her age. Bez and Sava, meanwhile, make plans for both their families to come over in the coming week, Bez managing to arrange for his to come for dinner tomorrow. 

It's nearly 7pm by the time Bez and Sava decide to go back home, getting extra tight hugs from both Vale and Marc on the way out, none of them wanting to let go, and all promising to see each other again soon. Before you start to deteriorate, goes unspoken.

Chapter Text

When they get home, Bez has a seizure. It’s not his first, but it still scares Sava unbelievably so, shooting white hot fear up his spine the second he sees Bez begin to shake. 

He does his best to deal with it the way the doctors had told him, even through his panic. He catches Bez before he falls and lays him down gently, head pillowed in his lap as there are no cushions near them and he doesn’t want to leave Bez alone for a single second in this state. He knows there’s nothing he can do but time it and wait for it to pass, so he holds the man close, stroking his hair and trying not to sob. He feels sick as he watches the love of his life convulse helplessly on the ground, he coos at him, whispering that he’ll be okay and that it will pass, but he knows it’s a lie. Sure, this episode may end in a couple minutes, but it won’t be the last. And they’ll just get worse and worse until he dies. The hollow feeling he’d felt earlier in the day creeps back in again.

It takes three minutes for the seizure to pass, and when Bez finally stops convulsing, Sava rolls him into the recovery position and stays with him until he comes to, dazed and still shaky, asking Sava what happened.

“You had a seizure, bambino.” Sava explains, trying to stay calm as he keeps stroking Bez’s hair. Bez’s face drops as he processes it.

“Oh.” He says quietly. The room goes silent, the only sound their breathing. The sun has fully set now, the only light illuminating being from the porch, casting them both in a dim glow. Sava off-handedly thinks it makes Bez look like an angel, with his halo of curls and the tortured expression on his face.

“Can we go to bed please?” Bez whispers, hands weakly gripping Sava’s t-shirt as he tries to pull himself up, wincing as he does. “M’ head hurts.”

“Of course, love. Lets be careful up the stairs, yeah? Do you need me to carry you?” Sava questions, gathering Bez in his arms and slowly, carefully pulling him to stand on obviously shaky legs, still leaning heavily on Sava.

“No, no I can do it myself.” Sava smiles fondly, glad to see the shorter man hasn’t lost his stubbornness in a moment of such weakness. 

It takes them a while, Sava stood behind Bez the whole time to ensure he doesn’t fall backwards, but eventually they make it to their room. Sava carefully strips Bez off his clothes, Bez huffing the whole time and complaining that he’s not made of china, you know, but lets Sava continue with his ministrations. They crawl under the covers together, arranging themselves to their liking so that their limbs are thoroughly intertwined and they face one another. 

“You still okay with having your family come over tomorrow?” Sava whispers into the darkness, caressing Bez’s hand with his thumb.

“Yeah. I don’t want to keep this from them. They deserve to know. I can’t lie to them.” Bez breathes, sounding resolute. Sava nods.

They both fall into silence, holding one another. Bez drifts off first and Sava just watches him breathe, eventually being unable to fight the heaviness of his eyelids.

The next morning, they awake in the same position, leaving lazy kisses on the other’s lips, morning breath be damned. They’re both pretty determined to pretend yesterday never happened, that none of it is true and that Bez is going to be just fine. 

Their lazy kisses soon grow more passionate, Bez swinging a leg over Sava’s hips and straddling the older man, who enthusiastically swallows every needy noise he makes at the tiniest shift of their hips against one another, separated only by their boxers. 

“Lory.” Bez moans into the kiss as Sava places his large hands on his ass, encouraging him to grind harder against his dick.

“Marco.” Sava breathes in response, trailing his hands up Bez’s body to cradle his face as they both moan and whimper against each other. “Fuck, you wanna go further or keep doing this?”

“Just this, please, Lory keep going.” Bez whines, breathing heavily right into Sava’s ear.

One of the hands cradling Bez’s face moves to tangle in his hair, drawing a pretty gasp out of the other man. 

“I’ve got you, bambino, I’ve got you.” Sava whispers, moving to trail kisses along his neck. Bez lets out a needy exhale which is quickly followed by a shout of pain as he bolts upright, clutching his head, face screwed up in pain. Sava sits up too, moving both hands back to the younger man’s face.

“What’s wrong? Bez? What is it?” He asks, unable to keep the panic in his voice at bay, eyes shining with unbridled fear and concern.

“M-my head.” Bez manages to get out, tears being squeezed from his tightly closed eyes.

“A headache? Should I go and get some painkillers?” Sava earns a tight nod in response, the slight movement making Bez wince and whimper, biting his lip to prevent any more unwanted noises.

Sava carefully shifts Bez off his lap, cautious to not jostle him too much, and lays him down on the bed while he runs to go grab the painkillers they have lying around somewhere. When he returns with the pills and a glass of water, Bez is sat up, knees drawn to his chest and head resting on them. He sits next to him, putting everything in his hands on the side table and drawing patterns on his hunched over back with a finger.

“Do you want me to give them to you?” He asks, trying not to sound patronising. He knows how stubborn Bez can be, so he expects him to put up at least a little bit of a fight, but to his surprise, the man just gets out a small “mhm” and brings his head up slowly, revealing his splotchy red face and the tear tracks running down it. 

Sava grabs the pills and pops out two, putting his free hand in Bez’s hair to coax him into tilting his head back and opening his mouth. He places the pills on his tongue and then brings the glass to his lips.

“What time is it?” Bez asks once he’s swallowed, voice meek. He’s clearly still in pain but attempting to grit his teeth and muscle through it.

“9-ish. Your family won’t be here until 2.” 

“Will you hold me? Just… until this goes away.”

Sava doesn’t respond, instead scooping the smaller man up in his arms and depositing him onto the bed as gently as he can, holding him close.

“I’m sorry I ruined the sex.” Bez laments after a while of lying together in silence. “I really wanted everything to feel… just normal. I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t apologise, bambino. I know it wasn’t your fault. Besides, it’s okay, it’s you I care about. Not having sex.” Sava attempts to reassure him.

“I know I just… I wanted everything to go away.” 

Sava just pulls him closer, nuzzling into him and feeling the younger sigh against him. The world moves outside of their bedroom window, but in their little bubble everything is still. Time is irrelevant, both wishing to stay here, wrapped up in one another, for the rest of time. 

An hour later they’ve managed to move themselves downstairs, Bez’s migraine subsiding and allowing Sava to help maneuver him. They’re watching TV, Bez’s head resting on Sava’s lap as some shitty Italian gameshow they’re not really paying attention to drones on in the background. 

“Sava?” Bez asks, quietly, making Sava jump slightly and eliciting a giggle from the pair.

“Yes, amore?” 

“How long do you think we can sit here before we have to move?” Bez sighs, nuzzling further into Sava’s hold. Sava doesn’t reply, opting to just hold him tighter instead.

Eventually, once Bez’s head is back to normal, they do get up, Bez preparing the table outside and Sava getting started on the cooking, even though they won’t be eating till much later. 

Once Bez finishes outside he walks back into the kitchen, hoisting himself up to sit on the kitchen counter, legs dangling and cooing at Rubik as he jumps up at him.

“Do you think we should come up with a script of some kind? Or like, at least some basic outline of what we’re gonna say? I don’t know about you but I have personally never had to tell my entire family I’m dying of cancer before so…” It’s a poor attempt at a joke, he knows it is, but he lets out a sad little chuckle anyway. Sava doesn’t laugh, instead dropping what he’s doing to stand between the gap in Bez’s legs. It’s a show of perfect domesticity. 

“Honestly, amore, I think you should just tell them how it is. I’ve met them enough times to know they would appreciate it more if you just outright tell them. Not too harsh, though.” Sava supplies, bringing his hands up to rest on Bez’s thighs, placing a chaste kiss to his lips.

“Okay, yeah. Sounds easy enough. Cool.” Bez mutters. Sava kisses him again, letting his lips linger a little longer this time, before turning back to the food.

The Bezzecchi family arrive around an hour later, both his parents immediately drowning Bez in hugs, his mom reaching out to pull Sava in too.

“Hi my boys, it’s been too long.” She says, smiling warmly at both of them.

“I missed you mama.” Bez sighs, holding on just a little tighter. “And you, babbo.”

“We missed you too, son.” His father breathes.

“And we missed you too, Lorenzo.” Bez’s mom says light heartedly, causing them all to giggle. 

“Thank you, Mrs. Bezzecchi.”

“How many times, it’s Daniela to you.” She says with faux exasperation, pulling away from the pair to fix them with a fond look.

“We’re here! Sorry we took so long, someone made my jeans get stuck in the car door on the way out.” Comes a familiar voice from the doorway.

“How was that my fault? You were the one who took ages getting out!” Complains someone else from behind.

Bez spins around to see his sisters giving each other dirty looks and runs over to give them hugs. 

“Silvia, Laura, I’m so glad you guys could make it.” Bez whispers.

“Yeah, yeah don’t get all sappy on us you big loser.” Silvia sighs, rolling her eyes fondly. Bez sighs a laugh into her neck and pulls away.

“Yeah, yeah whatever. Come on through to the back, we’ve set the table up in the garden.” They all follow him into the garden, complementing Sava on the smell of the food and even, reluctantly, complimenting Bez on his rather impressive table display, the usually messy back garden making quite a picture, strung up with fairy lights and decorated with candles.

They all take a seat, making small talk about Silvia’s new boyfriend, Vito making sure to light heartedly mention that he disapproves causing a chuckle from the table, as Sava dishes up the food he’d made. Of course, it is delicious and everyone makes sure to compliment him and the food unendingly. 

The atmosphere is nice, faint music drifts over from the local bar near their house, accompanying the sound of their natter and filling the silences when they’re all too focused on the food. Laura makes a comment about how smitten Bez and Sava clearly are with each other when Sava cleans a bit of sauce off the corner of Bez’s mouth, causing both men to blush and giggle like school girls.

“Right, enough chit chat. What’s the occasion you pair?” Vito says eventually, causing everyone to whip their heads around to stare at Bez and Sava. Bez feels the colour drain from his face. He had completely forgotten what he had brought them all here to say, and now he’s been reminded he feels his stomach begin to stir with anxiety.

“Right... Um okay. Well I have some news-” He’s cut off by Rubik coming to nuzzle up against his leg, demanding food and attention. Bez keeps his eyes on him, scratching him behind the ear as he talks, finding himself unable to face his family. “Um… yesterday I had my test results back from the doctor. Um… and she told me that I have brain cancer. She told me the treatment options available but since it’s reached a stage where it’s incurable, I decided to go with the most painless option. Which is no treatment. So I essentially only have a few months left, and I’ve decided to spend them at home so I can be with you guys and Sava, rather than in a hospital bed.”

As soon as he’d gotten the word ‘cancer’ out of his mouth, all four members of his family had gasped, and by the time he’s finished speaking, they’re all crying.

Daniela gets up to hug him, muttering under her breath about how much she loves him and how cruel and unfair this is and how she can’t believe her baby boy is being taken from her. Vito is sitting with his hands clasped in front of him, murmuring prayers in Latin and valiantly fighting the tears flowing from his eyes. 

His sisters are holding on to each other, one silent, the other wailing. 

Sava isn't sure what to do. It feels completely helpless, like he's watching a car crash unravel. He wants to tell them all it's going to be okay but it's not. It won't be okay. Bez is going to die and he's going to be alone. How is he meant to reassure them when any comforting words he could say would all be lies?

Bez hangs on to his mother for dear life, he can't cry any more. For one, he feels like he has no tears left in him, a deep numbness replacing the heavy sorrow he felt yesterday. On top of that, his pounding headache is already threatening to come back, and he knows that if he starts crying that will be the final nail in the coffin. 

His mother pulls away from him to hold his face in her hands and stare into his eyes, caressing his cheek with her thumb. She then turns to Sava and swings her arms around his neck, still sobbing, the time telling him to look after her boy, and cursing God for doing this to such a kind pair of people. He puts his arms around her in return, looking over her shoulder at Bez and sending him a small sad smile, a mirror of yesterday with Vale and Marc. 

“Look I… I know it’s a shock, obviously. But I don’t want you to treat me any differently. Over the next few months I’m going to get a lot weaker. I’m gonna start to forget things and I’m going to be in a lot of pain. I know that’s going to be tricky for all of you, but I need you to try and be as normal as possible with me. Of course some things will change, I’ll need patience, but I’ll also need that normalcy, otherwise this is going to be so much worse for me.” Bez says after pulling away from his mom. Everyone nods through their anguish. If it is important to him, it’s important to them too.

They return to eating, a murky, ominous silence falling over them like a thick raincloud. Bez feels suffocated, starting to panic. Fuck despite his efforts they still see him differently now, huh? His last few months are going to be spent being treated like a porcelain doll. People too scared to touch him. People not realising he’s still the same Marco. The one who loves unashamedly and whole heartedly and shows it through hugs and kisses and touch. 

“So who saw the Rimini match last Saturday?” Vito says, breaking the silence, and just like that, the table explodes into lively conversation, everyone arguing back and forth about the dodgy ref and disallowed goal. His sisters scream at one another, both individually begging Bez to back them up, the boy refusing to choose just to rile them up even more. His mother tells them all off but there’s clear fondness in her voice. Bez feels his unease melt away in seconds, joining in with them, though not being able to raise his voice as much as he usually would in a sport-related conversation, still trying his best to stave off that persistent headache. He really needs to get his pain meds sorted. 

Sava squeezes his hand under the table and smiles at him and Bez forgets all about the lingering dull throb behind his eyes. He smiles back.

The rest of the night goes by without a hitch, everyone laughing and joking and being genuinely happy, even if the whole evening is tinged with a bittersweet aftertaste.

When it’s time for everyone to leave, they all hold on for a moment longer than they normally would, whispering how much they love him. His father even pulls Sava into a hug rather than their usual handshake, whispering for him to take care of his boy.

“That went well.” Sava sighs when they’ve finished waving everyone off from the window seat in the front room. Bez repositions himself so he’s between Sava’s legs and leaning back on his chest.

“I'm glad. Fuck I can't imagine what this must be like that for them. I’m so glad they’re still normal with me.” Bez sighs, feeling the tension of the day leave his limbs and seep into the ground below him. His whole world narrows down to just him and his lover once more. 

Comfortable silence washes over them, just the sound of the ticking clock in the room accompanying their slow breaths.

As he lays there, cocooned safely in the arms he wants to spend every minute of his life in, the arms he’s going to die in, he’s hit with an idea. His mouth moves before he can even overthink it.

“Lory?” He starts, earning a small hum of acknowledgment in response. “Will you marry me?”

Chapter Text

Sava startles, reeling back so forcefully he hits his head on the wall behind him. He barely even notices, heart beating too fast to feel anything but the blood rushing through his body.

Had he really just asked that?

“Marco-” Sava begins but Bez cuts him off, twisting around to face him.

“It’s just… I’ve always wanted to get married. And there’s nobody I’d rather get married to than you. And I mean… it’s not like we’ve got anything left to lose. Please, Lory. I’ll plan it. It’ll be a small thing. I just really really want you to be my husband.” Bez rambles, lost in his own monologue. There’s a moment of silence before Sava leans forward and kisses him, shocking an adorable little noise out of him.

“Yes I’ll marry you, idiot.” He smiles against Bez’s lips and gets a giggle in return. 

“Really?”

“Of course. Fuck you’re the only person I’d ever want to make my husband, Marco.” The passion that burns in each pair of eyes is so intense that both have to fight the urge to look away, cautious of disappearing too far in and coming out burnt, or just falling in and becoming engulfed in those deep chestnut irises.

“Good. And I want the wedding to be soon. We’ll be unemployed soon enough so we can spend most of our time planning it.” Bez half jokes, earning a playful shove from the man by his side.

“I prefer the term ‘retired’ actually.” Sava corrects.

“Well that just makes us sound old.” Bez huffs, poking Sava’s side cheekily.

“The only solution is to start our own small business I guess.” The older man shrugs, Bez snorting in response. One of Sava’s favourite running jokes is that they are going to ‘start a small business’ as a subtle dig towards Bez’s best friend, Edo, who is a brand owner/tattoo artist/DJ. He claims it's all in good faith but Bez knows it’s because he and Edo have a history and Sava is nothing if not a jealous bitch.

“Okay, sure.” Bez concedes with a fond eye roll. “I love you, fiance.” He teases, smiling giddily at the prospect of marrying the love of his life.

“I love you more, fiance.” They kiss once again, melting completely into each other and moving as one. Bez knows what he wants. Desperate to prove he’s not fragile. To prove he’s still the insatiable lunatic Sava fell in love with.

“Lory fuck me, please. I promise I can take it.” He begs, hands grasping at whatever skin he can reach, travelling under Sava’s shirt and digging in. Holding on.

“Marco are you sure? This morning it really seemed like you weren’t up for it.” Sava checks, sounding concerned even through the lust he’s trying valiantly to wade through.

“Yes, please Lory, I can do it. I feel better now, please I need it.” Bez whines, trying to pull their bodies flush together despite their awkward positioning.

“You promise you’ll tell me to stop if it’s too much?” Sava asks breathlessly, feeling Bez nod against his mouth in response. As sensible as he is trying to be, he does really want this, finds it hard to deny the opportunity to see his beautiful boyfriend fiance spread out under him like a debauched angel, panting and moaning in those whiny, dulcet tones that he loves so much. 

Sava leads them upstairs, earning a whine when he pulls away that quickly turns into a moan when he slips his hand into Bez’s jeans to pull him up.

They make their way to the bedroom in a tangle of limbs. Sava tries not to be as rough as he usually would, but at the same time he knows Bez doesn’t want him to be overly gentle.

“Lory please, harder.” Bez moans when Sava is inside of him, trying to move with each thrust to encourage him. “Please, please I can take it.” 

“I know, I know amore.” Sava reassures, panting as he complies and fucks into the other harder. He can’t take his eyes away from Bez’s face, the pure bliss in each of his features completely enchanting. His eyes are half lidded, eyebrows knitted together and mouth wide open, moans falling from his mouth freely, getting louder with each thrust. Sava knows when he’s hit Bez’s prostate because hands fly up to drag trails of fire down his back and the moans become screams of “Mmfg- oh fuck, Lory there, please right there.”

He’s so focused with the way Bez’s back arches so much that he’s facing the bedframe behind him as he comes, he barely even notices his own approaching orgasm and when it does hit him he is caught off guard, loudly groaning the other’s name into his ear.

They both lie there in the aftermath, curled up around each other, not wanting to move as their breathing calms down and syncs up. 

“How do you feel, bambino? I wasn’t too hard was I?” Sava asks, biting his lip with post-orgasmic worry.

“You were perfect, Lory. Fuck, I haven’t felt that good in a while. Thank you.” Bez says earnestly. They smile at one another and nuzzle their noses together. They’ll worry about the sticky mess - and their impending wedding- in the morning.

A few days pass, Bez now equipped with a whole cupboard of yellow pill bottles he has to take daily. He’s somewhat getting used to the routine, and he has to admit, they are helping with the headaches and seizures. They haven’t completely gone away but they are happening a lot less. He can’t even explain how grateful he is for it. Alongside the pills, he also has an almost full wedding planning notebook. They’ve decided to keep the engagement to themselves for now, choosing to wait until the diagnosis is public knowledge, but Bez can’t help but fantasise and scribble notes about it every opportunity he gets.

They’ve managed to tell a few friends about the diagnosis already, along with Sava’s family, and seeing the reactions of those they care most about when they find out he’s going to die never gets easier. They’ve decided to tell the academy boys individually rather than together. Luca was the first to know out of all them, seeing as they felt it unfair that Vale knew but his brother didn’t. Watching his ever-stoic ex teammate crumble in front of his own eyes was more painful than Bez thought possible. He stayed strong as his friend clung to him but cried to Sava for hours after he’d left.

Next was Pecco, the man practically an older brother to Bez, someone who has been there for him his whole life. Telling Pecco was… rough. Hours of crying together which ended in them falling asleep tangled with one another on the couch, just like when they were younger and found themselves exhausted after a long day of academy training. Sava had walked in on them fast asleep, tear tracks still visible on their faces, and had to hold back his own tears. It was in that moment he truly realised that the world was bigger than Bez and himself. This wasn’t just something being taken from them, but from everyone in their lives. 

Bez had decided to leave Celestino until last, knowing that would inevitably be the most painful. The bond they had went beyond anything he’d had with another friend. Since they were kids they had been inseparable, learning the world together, learning themselves together. They had been each other’s first gay experiences, fumbled, terrible blowjobs in a hidden corner of the ranch that they still laugh about now. Unlike with Edo, Sava had never been jealous of Cele, mainly because he knows how important the bond they have is to Bez. 

If platonic soulmates exist, Bez thinks Cele might just be his.

That’s why it hurts so much when he has to hold him tightly and stroke his hair while pleas of “Don’t leave me” are sobbed into his neck. 

“I’m sorry, angioletto. I’m so sorry.” Bez whispers through his own subdued cries. 

“You can’t go, Bez. You can’t. Please, I need you. You’re my everything.” He’s barely audible through his violent tears and wails, clutching onto Bez like he could slip through his fingers at any moment. “Please Bez, please.”

“I’m still here, Celin. I’m here now and I’m not going anywhere yet, okay?” Bez reassures him, though he knows there’s not much he can say to comfort him in the long run. “I love you. So much, piccolo. More than you could know. And I will love you forever and ever, even if I’m not around to tell you anymore.”

Cele nods into his neck, still crying, managing to hiccup out a feeble, “I love you too.”

Bez feels drained. A whole week of telling the people he loves that he’s going to die. And there’s still more people to tell. He lies in bed, body half on top of Sava’s, considering his options as the older man traces patterns into his skin.

“I don’t think I can tell anyone else.” He confesses, voice barely above a whisper.

“What do you mean, amore?”

“I just… today with Cele… I don’t think I can do it again. I’m exhausted. Not just from the symptoms, either. It’s… Do you know how exhausting it is to tell everyone in your life that in a few months time they’ll never see you again? I can’t… I can’t do it anymore.” He doesn’t cry. He can’t. He just sighs, something bone-deep and tinged with exhaustion.

There’s a short silence, Sava’s hand hasn’t stopped moving. It’s grounding. 

“Do you want me to tell Aprilia? Obviously you’ll have to be there but I mean doing the speaking for you?” Sava asks. Bez lets out a sigh of relief, nodding and curling further into his fiance, murmuring his thanks.

Their meeting with Massimo is the next day, luckily it is over zoom considering Bez had a seizure first thing in the morning and a pounding headache since, meaning he doesn’t have to do any travel or move much, which would inevitably only make his symptoms worse. They stay in bed for the call, shirts on, of course but bottom halves under the covers. Massimo already knew about their relationship, so seeing them together was not surprising, but seeing them clearly sat in bed together with Bez looking like he'd just been dragged through Hell and back… that was new.

“Morning boys,” Massimo says, choosing not to address the alarming state of them. “What is it you wanted to talk about it?”

Sava and Bez exchange a look, having a silent conversation, before Sava nods and turns back to the laptop.

“Massimo… we have some news. And it's quite shocking, we understand, but you have to know this is beyond our control.” Sava begins. He knows full well that Massimo will understand, but he can’t help but be a little cautious. “Fuck knows neither of us want this but we have no choice.”

“Lorenzo… you’re scaring me, what’s going on?”  Massimo asks, his concern growing the longer this is drawn out, Sava sighs, knowing he just has to rip the plaster off and get it over with.

“Marco and I are retiring. Now. And I know this puts you in an uncomfortable situation, having to find replacement riders for both of us so quickly and screwing up the end of the season, but we don’t have a choice.”
“Lorenzo, please just tell me what it is? Is everything okay?”

“Marco has cancer.” 

Bez flinches at Sava’s words. They still don’t feel real, even when he says them himself.

“What?” Massimo asks, in complete disbelief, sitting up in wide-eyed disbelief.

“Brain cancer. It’s terminal. He has a few months left. He’s not fit to ride, obviously. And, as his partner, I will be retiring too in order to take care of him.”

“Right. Well. I mean first of all, I’m sorry to break professionalism here but fuck I’m so sorry. I couldn’t think of anyone who deserves this less. This is just. This is so fucked.” Massimo rambles, clearly lost on what to say. Neither can blame him, really.

“We know.” Bez speaks up, a small, ironic smile on his face. Massimo takes a second to acknowledge that, and to acknowledge Bez, nodding and heaving a sigh, before placing the facade of professionalism back on himself.

“Secondly, please don’t apologise for this. Yes, it does put the team in an uncomfortable situation but we’ll figure it out. It’s not like we were going to win the championship this year anyway.” The self-deprecating humour catches them both off guard, startling giggles from them. It’s nice that somebody is treating them like normal. “And, whilst I understand this is probably not the best time to ask, it still does need to be discussed. Lorenzo, are you sure you won’t be back at all? I don’t want to put pressure on you but I just need to know if we should be looking for a replacement rider or a full time rider in your case.”

“No. No, I won't be returning. Sorry, Massimo.” Sava says solemnly, Bez gripping his hand as he says so, clearly still not happy about it but resigned to the fact that Sava is too stubborn to convince him otherwise.

“Okay, thank you for letting me know. Boys, listen, I need you both to understand that the team and I are here for you. Drop by any time, you will always be part of the Aprilia family, okay? And Bez, you’re such a good kid. I’ve seen what brain cancer can do to people first hand, it’s how I lost my late wife. You’ll forget things over the next few months, but promise me you’ll never forget how talented you are.” Massimo insists, Bez tearing up as he listens to his boss speak from the heart in a way so astoundingly visceral it was almost scary.

“Thank you, Massimo. I’m sorry about your wife.” He whispers.

“No problem. And you would’ve loved her, I’m sure.” Massimo smiles, clearly lost in memories. Sava’s heart seizes up at the sight. It’s a reminder that he’s simply one of many who’ve lost the thing that means the most to them and of how unfair the world is.

They end the meeting after a short chat about logistics, they decide that Bez will be the one to release the information to the public, via an instagram post and a press conference, but Massimo will be the one to tell the team. It hits Bez that telling everyone about this will also involve telling everyone about his and Sava’s relationship, something they’d managed to keep a secret for over two years. The realisation overwhelms him a little.

They tell Massimo that they will visit for some races, as long as Bez is feeling up to it, but they acknowledge that after a while it won’t be possible.

After the meeting is over, both let out loud sighs in time with one another, causing them to break out in giggles. 

“Can we go to sleep again?” Bez whispers, resting his head on Sava’s shoulder once their giggles have subsided, the fatigue of his earlier seizure clearly catching up with him.

“Of course, amore.” Sava replies, carefully maneuvering them to be more comfortable, curled around each other as they so often are these days.

“Why ‘m I so tired? Just always tired now.” Bez sighs sadly, burrowing further into the crease of Sava’s arm, almost as if he’s trying to crawl into his skin. Sava doesn’t answer. He can’t find the words, as is the case for many of Bez’s questions recently. Everything is venturing into unknown territory and it scares him so much.

Bez knows the team have been told when he starts to receive an outpouring of support over text. Every single team member messages him something individually heartwarming and devastating. The reminder that he is loved hurts as much as it soothes. Sava catches him welling up at the messages and engulfs him in affection, flustering a giggle out of him when he makes a jealous comments about Bez receiving a message from Giovanni, one of the mechanics who had been unashamedly flirting with him ever since he joined the team. Before they became official, Bez would flirt back with the sole purpose of riling up Sava. Of course it worked every time, and eventually led to some sloppy, nasty, dirty garage sex in the dead of night that still makes Bez blush just to think about. God he misses those days.

Sava also receives an influx of messages too, most offering their sympathy. Some tell him how good of a partner he is for doing this. He thinks that stupid, surely this is the bare minimum. Anyone who truly loves their other half would give everything up for them in a heartbeat, that’s only common sense really. 

He doesn’t answer them, too busy ensuring Bez is okay and cheering him up. Partly because he knows that now that part is done, next comes telling the public, and with the next race looming, just less than a week away, they know they’re on borrowed time to get this done.

They already have the post ready. It features a picture of Bez sat against the garage door, knees drawn up, staring at his bike. They slaved over the caption for a while, trying to find something that felt poignant enough but not too harsh. Vale and Marc had given them useful advice, both used to public statements considering they were an openly gay couple in motorsport (not to mention their extensive history making the whole coming out ordeal a lot more complicated than necessary for them).

Eventually they came up with something they both felt comfortable with, Aprilia’s socials team also giving the stamp of approval.

“This is not an announcement I ever thought I'd have to make, but life is unpredictable, and sometimes things just don't go your way. It pains me to say that I will be making an abrupt stop in the 2027 MotoGP season and will be retiring before the next race, due to the fact I have been diagnosed with terminal brain cancer and have been given a few months left to live, therefore I am not in a stable condition to continue racing. One instagram post isn't enough to explain my feelings about this and about how grateful I am for the career I've had and the support I've experienced. My incredible partner, Lorenzo Savadori, will be with me during my final months, so he will also be ending his season early, something which means to me more than I can express. We both would like to thank all of you for your understanding. 💗”

“As soon as we post this it’s real, Sava. The world knows. About my cancer, about our careers, about us being together.” Bez says, staring at the drafted post on his phone screen after checking it over for the millionth time, eyes darting up to the ‘post’ button in fear every so often. Both men are leaning heavily on each other, Rubik spread lazily across both of their laps.

“Doesn’t matter if people know, amore. It changes nothing. The only thing that matters right now is how much we love each other, and nothing can change that. Okay?” This specific kind of assertive confidence suits Sava, Bez thinks.

“Okay.” The younger man says quietly, a small smile on his face. “Do you wanna do the honors?” He asks, holding the phone out to the other.

“No, I think you should.” Sava stated, pushing Bez’s outstretched hand back towards himself. Bez nods, taking a deep breath.

He presses post and throws his phone across the sofa, alerting Rubik who jolts from his position atop the pair. Sava immediately envelops Bez in his arms, pressing kisses to every inch of his face and repeating over and over again how proud he is. Rubik inevitably decides that this is now a family hug and weasels his way between them, licking their faces and making them groan and laugh. 

They don’t check the response for another hour, but when they do, it is so overwhelmingly sympathetic and kind that Bez only lasts a minute before the screen gets blurry and his cheeks grow wet.

When they go to bed that night, they both feel fulfilled. Untouchable. They know it won’t last forever, but they’re content to revel in it while it lasts.

Chapter Text

Bez has never felt more like a celebrity than when he walks into the paddock on Thursday and is hounded by flashing lights, questions, and overlapping voices. He knew the announcement would cause some frenzy with the media, but this is an even bigger reception he got than when he won the championship. It’s startling, and immediately becomes headache inducing.

“Sava.” He whispers, panic evident in his voice, upon seeing them all crowded at the entrance.

“For fuck’s sake.” Sava sighs, wrapping his arm across Bez’s waist and pulling him to his side, partially shielding him from the incessant snapping of cameras and screams of press.

They walk through the crowd, Sava almost acting as Bez’s bodyguard. It hurts so much to have to protect him in this way, because he knows that under normal circumstances, Bez would walk through them all like Moses parting the red sea: unafraid with his head held high. Yes, he’d always been shy, but he was never one to back away from confrontation. 

But these are not normal circumstances, and too much of this could send Bez into a seizure, let alone give him a nasty headache. The poor man was already embarrassed about having to bring ear defenders for the garage, having a seizure in public with all these cameras around would be his own personal Hell.

They make it through the paddock into Aprilia hospitality as quickly as they can, Bez burying his face into Sava’s neck as soon as they get into the building, taking deep breaths to stave off tears or a headache. Sava whispers reassuring things in his ear as he calms down, trying to cool his own anger at the completely disgusting behaviour of the press. Seriously, who harasses a cancer patient like that?

“Hey baby, do you feel sick?” He asks quietly, receiving a short shake of the head in response. In recent days, Bez has been throwing up so much he can’t really keep any food down. Anything can trigger it too: stress, loud noises, exhaustion, or even nothing. Sava is thankful that now isn’t one of those moments. He knows how much Bez hates being sick.

They’re so wrapped up in each other, they don’t notice that most of the team are sat in the hospitality area and have gone completely silent, staring at them in bewilderment. 

“Fucking press. Harassed him at the gates. Cunts.” He says by way of explanation, addressing everyone in front of him. He’s still angry, arms wrapped around his lover and swaying him slightly in an attempt to soothe him. Christ, they have a presser after this too.

“I’ll deal with it.” Pipes up a voice from the back of the room. Bez’s press officer, Simona, steps forward with a determined look on her face. Sava shivers, knowing not to underestimate how scary the woman can be. He almost feels bad for the press, knowing they are about to deal with the full extent of her wrath. Almost.

“Thanks, Simona.” He smiles, content in knowing they’ll all get what’s coming to them. Bez pulls his head away and looks up at Sava, eyes red-rimmed and even more hollow than they have been recently.

“Thank you, Lory.” 

Sava raises an eyebrow, unable to recall doing anything that would warrant gratitude. “What for?”

“Just for being here.” Bez sighs, the smile he wears a little sad, clearly exhausted already. Sava presses a chaste kiss to his lips in lieu of a reply before offering Bez to go to his old rider’s room for a quick nap. Bez of course agrees, even before the illness, he has never been one to turn down a nap.

They walk through the crowd, promising everyone they will catch up later, Bez just has to get some rest right now.

They make it to the room and immediately squeeze themselves onto the tiny twin bed, Sava curling protectively around his fiancé. They have spent so much of their time recently in bed, but it's what Bez needs, so it's what Sava will do.

Bez is fast asleep almost as soon as they’re both comfortable, still fully clothed. Only his shoes have been removed. Sava doesn’t sleep a wink, instead watching the man in his arms, tracking each slow breath in and out, as if they could stop at any moment. He knows he’s being silly, but he can’t help his worrying.

The press conference comes next. Both had been dreading it since their meeting with Massimo. They know just how brutal the press can be and are not ready to face their full wrath. 

The moment they both take their seats the room fills with tension. The last time a press con was this tense had been the infamous handshake incident. Except this time there’s not even any awkward laughter to break the silence. Luckily flash photography hadn’t been allowed, upon Sava’s request, otherwise Bez knows he’d be getting flashbanged by a million cameras right now.

“Hello everyone.” Bez says. He’d chosen not to read from a script or teleprompter. He’d read through a basic outline of what to say but figured, since this is likely the last time he’ll have to do this, he may as well speak from the heart. Sava leans over and squeezes his hand from where he’s sat next to him and Bez throws him an appreciative smile before launching into his speech. “Thank you all for coming here, first of all. I’m sure you all already know what this is about. Not long ago, I was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer, as I’m sure you’ve all heard. Due to it being terminal, I have only been given a few months left to live, and have also had to make an early retirement from both the sport and season, as my condition makes it unsafe for me to be on the bike. Sava has also decided to take an early retirement in order to be with me in my final months, as he is my partner. If anyone has any questions feel free to ask, but be warned we won’t be answering anything we deem too personal.”

On cue, pretty much everyone in the room raises their hand. Bez has to hold back a short sigh. He’s going to be in for a long afternoon.

The questions go on for what feels like a lifetime. In their defence, most of the journalists are quite respectful with their questioning, very few people cross any sort of line. Once the tone of the questions shift from the diagnosis over to their relationship, Bez actually finds it to be quite a pleasant experience. Finally, he gets to shout about his love for Sava from the rooftops.

“It’s a funny story, actually. We’d met a good few years before we were ever teammates and I had such a big crush on him.” He giggles, cheeks slightly pink. The confession draws coos and laughs from the rest of the room, including Sava himself, even though he already knows the full story. “It was three full years of bashfulness and running away after every short greeting so he couldn’t see me blush. When Jorge had his accident and I found out we were going to be teammates for most of 2025 I was terrified of accidentally revealing my crush and embarrassing myself. But luckily for me, when I did inevitably reveal my feelings, it turned out he felt the same way.” The pair of lovers turn to face each other with fond smiles. Sava almost lets out a giggle as he remembers what Bez failed to mention (the sex that came before any mention of feelings). That was definitely something to keep between themselves.

The press conference wraps up and they’re both quite happy overall, it wasn't as bad as either of them thought it would be. Bez is quite tired after all of it though, and has to fight off sleep when they're watching practice from the Aprilia garage straight afterwards.

Later that day, after practice has ended, they visit a few of their friends' motorhomes. It’s quite nice, actually. They laugh and joke and it feels quite normal with most of them. They visit Marc, Vale obviously with him in the motorhome. Marzia is staying with Roser and Julia this weekend, like most weekends. They’ve actually never brought her to the paddock. Marc says it's because they don’t want her to be exposed to all the press and public, but Bez knows it’s actually because they like to fuck crazy style on a Sunday after the race. He’s known since they got back together in early 2025 and he’d accidentally walked in on them after Marc’s win in Mugello. It was traumatising to say the least, he’s definitely learnt to always knock.

After visiting them and most of the academy boys, there’s only one person left to see. 

“I think I need to do this alone, amore.” Bez says as they reach the door, staring at the ground.

“Okay, cucciolo. I’ll head back to the motorhome, call me if you need anything, okay?” Bez nods and they give each other a kiss before parting, Bez watching Sava leave before turning back to the door in front of him. 

He knocks and it swings open almost immediately. Cele stands before him, dressed in loose jogging bottoms and a VR46 hoodie. They stare at one another for about 5 seconds before engulfing one another in a hug. They stand in the entryway holding each other for so long that Bez loses track of time. It hurts so much to see Cele in this state again.

Part of the reason Bez had felt so guilty about leaving Cele all on his own after he goes is because he knows he is Cele’s rock, the boy having had a continued battle with his mental health since he was very young. Many times it was so bad, there were questions around whether he’d be able to continue riding. Bez pulled him back every time, bandaged his wrists with reassuring words and offered him whatever he needed, whether it was a shoulder to cry on, a listening ear, or someone to hold his hand during his therapy sessions. Bez had been the person he’d confided to about his rough upbringing, the person who’d helped him get over his addiction, the person who’d kept him alive. Now he can’t even keep himself alive, he’s not sure who is left to take care of his friend.

“Can we sit down?” Bez whispers, not daring to pull away first. Cele nods and they make their way to the couch in the main living area, Cele resting his head on Bez’s shoulder. 

“I’m sorry about all of this, Celin. I’m sorry I have to leave you.” Bez whispers into his hair.

“I know you are. I know it’s not your fault.” Cele sighs, but it lacks conviction, his voice shaky and broken. 

They hold each other for a little longer, confessing things to one another in quiet whispers, illuminated only by a warm orange lamp in the corner.

“Do you remember… Do you remember what you said? About having a kid?” Cele says at one point.

Of course Marco remembers, how could he forget? When he’d confessed to Cele that he and Sava were thinking about kids after retirement. Cele had made him promise to name their child after him, Celestino for a boy, Celeste for a girl. 

“Yeah. I remember.” Marco says sadly, the fact he’d never be able to fulfil that only just registering in his head. He had always wanted kids. He knows he could’ve made such a good father. Knows Sava would too. Maybe he still will be one day.

“I know that you… can’t anymore so I thought that instead, I’ll make a promise to you instead. When I have a kid one day, I’ll name them after you. Marco for a boy, Marta for a girl.” Cele says nervously, but a small smile on his face. It’s the closest he’s looked to happy since Bez had broken the news.

Bez momentarily detaches himself from the younger to just stare at him in disbelief before pulling him into a crushing hug.

“I love you, Celestino Vietti. I love you more than you could ever know. And I hope little Marco or Marta will grow up knowing just how much their uncle Bez would’ve loved them.” He’s crying now, they both are. He’s shed so many tears recently, he’s not usually one to cry so often. Before all of this, the last time he’d cried was at his Championship celebration, crying in front of the thousands of fans gathered in his name and then sobbing in Sava’s arms in his motorhome afterwards too.

“I love you too, Bez. To Mars and back.” Cele says, laughing a little through his tears. Bez lets out a wet little chuckle too, remembering when they used to say that to one another all those years back, after Cele had a panic attack when his parents had threatened to stop him from coming to the ranch and seeing any of the boys again. Bez had told him he loved him to Mars and back and when Cele had questioned it, asking ‘Isn’t it usually to the moon and back?’ Bez had simply replied ‘Yeah, but Mars is further.’

“To Mars and back, Celin.”

When he gets back to his and Sava’s motorhome about an hour later, he sidles in next to Sava immediately, snuggling into his side and sighing loudly.

“Will you do me a favour?” He asks before Sava can even get a word in.

“Anything.” Sava replies, making Bez’s heart melt a little with how earnest he sounds.

“Will- will you look after Celestino for me when I’m gone? I’m so worried about him, amore. You know how much he means to me. When I go he’ll be alone and I don’t know if he’ll be able to survive that. Just… when I go I don’t want you to carry on my legacy or any bullshit like that. I just want you to make sure he’s okay.” Bez rambles, pulling at his sleeves. He knows Sava will understand, that he’ll do everything in his power to look after the younger man. Still, he can’t help but worry. Cele can be so fragile. He knows it’s not the boy’s fault, with how rough his past was it’s honestly a miracle he’s still here at all.

“Of course, bambino. Cele is like a brother to me, you know that. I’ll look after him.” Sava says, kissing Bez’s hair and bringing him closer. Bez feels himself settle a little. He believes him.

The race is one to watch that weekend. Bez and Sava sit in the garage on absolute edge the whole time, watching as Marc battles it out with Luca on track (they both giggle at the knowledge that Vale will be losing his mind right now somewhere over in the VR46 garage). Alex joins the mix later on in the race, all of them three wide into each corner until Luca drops it going into turn four, the commotion allowing Fabio to catch up from behind and battle with the pair of brothers all the way to the line, ending with a perfect picture finish with Marc in front, Fabio in second, and Alex in third. Bez and Sava’s replacements had done okay, both just about scraping points. 

Bez and Sava watch from beneath the podium, cheering on their friends. Bez still has his ear defenders on, slightly embarrassed about it but trying not to let it show on his face. 

They go to the Ducati party afterwards to celebrate with Marc, the man lighting up when he sees them both, pulling them in to dance. Bez had been too embarrassed to wear his ear defenders here but as soon as he stepped into the room he knew he wouldn’t last long without them. In fact it only takes a few minutes of dancing until he can feel the familiar pressure building up behind his eyes. He presses the heels of his hands to them in an attempt to find any momentary relief, but pulls them away in shock when he feels something slip over his ears. He looks up to see Sava smiling down at him. That bastard knew he would get overwhelmed and brought the ear defenders anyway. Bez throws him a playful scowl and Sava just replies with a toothy smile that makes Bez’s expression melt into a fond grin. The lights are dim enough that the ear defenders do their trick, the slowly emerging headache ebbing away as quickly as it came.

The music turns slow, seeping in quietly through the ear defenders. They put their arms round one another like it’s second nature and sway to the music, staring into each other’s eyes. A hand travels into Bez’s hair and pushes him forward to rest his head on Sava’s chest. It feels so good to do this, to dance without fear, small hands entwined with larger ones and souls likewise.

Life feels so beautiful in their little bubble. Nothing can hurt them here. They know they cannot stay here forever, but each hope that a part of their conscience can become stuck here, living this moment on replay until time grinds to a halt and the world collapses in on itself.

“You’re mine. My beautiful boy.” Sava whispers, knowing Bez can’t hear him. He finds he wants to make the younger man a part of him somehow. Ensure that when he’s gone he’ll always be there inside of him. Maybe he already is. Maybe Bez is the caramel coffee he’d taken to drinking every morning, maybe Bez is the inexplicable happiness he feels every time he sees a dog in public, maybe Bez is his sudden love for romantic Italian ballads that make him cry for reasons unknown. Maybe Bez has become so ingrained into his character, that he truly will never have to live without him. He holds the other a bit closer and smiles as he feels the man sigh contentedly into his chest. 

At some point in the night, Valentino and Marc sidle up to them, asking how they’re both doing. Bez tries his best to keep up with the conversation but eventually gives up, leaning into Sava and letting him take the lead. It has been a long day and an even longer weekend. He is most definitely ready for bed.

As they keep talking, Bez feels a wave of nausea hit him out of nowhere, making him clutch his stomach in surprise. No, no, no not again. Not here.

He interrupts the conversation the others are having to tug at Sava’s sleeve. Sava turns to him, concern written all over his face as he sees how pale he’s gone. They’re both very familiar with Bez’s episodes by this point, and he’s learnt to separate his lover’s ‘I’m about to have a seizure’ face from his ‘I’m about to throw up’ face. This is the second one.

“Oh shit okay, amore let’s get you outside.” He says. He vaguely registers Marc and Vale calling after them as they rush to find an exit. They make it out onto the street just in time, Bez hurling up his insides violently, causing Sava to wince at the awful retching noises as he holds his hair back and whisper reassuring things, as he does every time. He knows how helpless this all makes Bez feel, and his heart shatters as he hears the sobs between each heave. He doesn’t know what to do to make his love feel better. He feels utterly helpless.

It’s starting to worry Sava how common the throwing up has become in the past week. It seems like Bez is just throwing up everything he consumes. The medication has seemed to help with the headaches and seizures, but nothing will stop the sickness.

Once there is seemingly nothing left to come up, Bez left dry heaving and spluttering, Sava carefully pulls him up, taking his phone out to call a taxi. He decides in that moment that as soon as they get back home to Rimini they’re booking an appointment with their doctor. This cannot be good for Bez. There’s no way that this can’t be solved, and Sava can’t physically bring himself to watch as his fiancé gets thinner and weaker every day because he can’t retain anything his body takes in.

They make it to bed eventually, Bez asleep before Sava even turns their lamps off. Tomorrow they’ll be on their way back home. For now they’re stuck here though, clinging on to each other, and praying for a light at the end of this dark tunnel, but knowing they’ll never reach it.

Chapter Text

It’s a few days after they get home that Sava hears it, the loud bang emanating from the bedroom while he’s downstairs making breakfast for the both of them. He’s never run faster in his life, sprinting up the stairs, hearing the pitter pat of four legs following him the whole way. He bursts into the bedroom and immediately feels dizzy, fighting his natural instinct to freeze and instead running to his lover, dodging the fresh vomit on the floor, and putting the shaking and convulsing man on his side and preparing to follow their usual procedure for these moments, until he sees it. A dark red pool of blood under his head, matting his hair and beginning to stain his shirt alongside patches of bile. The sickening smell of iron hits him as soon as he spots it.

He moves before he has time to think, blood covered hands fumbling for his phone, calling an ambulance as quickly as he can with his shaky digits.

“Please, come quickly my partner he’s- he’s bleeding and he’s got cancer and he’s had a seizure and I don’t wanna leave him and I’m not sure how to stop the bleeding please just come quickly.” Sava pants, breaths bordering on hyperventilation. He gives the address and Bez’s name and stays on the phone until the ambulance comes, following all of their instructions. Bez still hasn’t stopped convulsing by the time the paramedics arrive, carrying him outside on a stretcher into the ambulance immediately, Sava hastily following suit and climbing in with him. His own blood soaked hand holds Bez’s the whole way, even while the ambulance crew fuss around him, hooking him up to machines and bandaging things up. He doesn’t let go when the shaking stops and Bez comes to with screams of pain. He only stays by his side and reassures him with encouraging words, kissing his hand and stroking his face when there aren’t other people in the way.

“Hurts, Sava.” Bez whines scratchily through his tears, broken sobs replacing his screams as the energy slowly saps out of his body. He just wants to go to sleep. 

They arrive to the hospital in a blur, Bez being rushed to the neurology ward and into a room which Sava is not allowed in. So follow the most awful thirty minutes of his life thus far, barely being able to think, each breath he takes accompanied by a wave of nausea as he can’t stop his brain from listing possibilities of what could be happening behind the wall. Seeing the love of his life like that, so helpless and small while his hands were drenched in his blood… sure he’d seen him have seizures before but this one was different. And when he woke up too, the fear and agony evident in every aspect of him was unbearable. The way his eyes were hazy and glossy, seeming to look through Sava, barely even able to register he was there. 

He’d looked so tired when they rushed him into the room, eyes threatening to close and mouth hanging open. What if he doesn’t make it? What if he’s not strong enough to pull through this time. There had been so much blood. So so much. He doesn’t know if he could take losing Bez. Not now. Not like this. They hadn’t even had their wedding. Bez has been looking forward to that so much, meticulously planning every aspect. There are so many things he still wanted to do. He hadn’t prepared himself to live life without him yet, telling himself it was in the distant enough future that he didn’t have to start processing it yet. 

He’s snapped out of his thoughts by someone in a white coat walking out of the room and clearing his throat. He scrambles up, wiping his eyes and practically standing to attention like a soldier.

“You are Mr. Bezzecchi’s partner, correct?” The doctor asks, consulting the clipboard in his hands, looking like a very stereotypical doctor with his grey hair, name tag reading ‘Doctor Rossi’. In any other circumstances, that would’ve gotten a giggle out of him and Bez.

Sava nods, not trusting himself to speak.

“He is in a stable condition, but we’ve had to put him into a medically induced coma. You can come in and see him if you want, but be warned what you see might upset you slightly.”

The second he steps into the room, he regrets not heeding the warning. Bez looks… half dead. There’s a bandage covering his head, curls tacky with dried blood, he’s so pale he practically blends in with the sheet beneath him. He’s hooked up to so many machines, he can’t even count the amount of wires hastily stuck into his skin. A breathing tube has been fixed in place beneath his nose. 

Sava can’t take it. Bez. His Bez. In a hospital bed, looking worse than he’s ever looked, something which is truly a feat for a MotoGP rider. 

“It was a seizure. A bad one. He must have hit his head on the way down, causing the bleeding, luckily there’s been no internal damage there, just mild external trauma. We’ve had to up his pain medication dosage for these seizures, as at this stage they’re likely to become more common and more intense, such as this one today. As long as you have an eye on him as often as possible and make sure he doesn’t hurt himself on the way down again, he should be okay if you give him this higher dosage as soon as possible after each seizure. Also, I have a few questions to ask if that’s okay?” Sava nods shakily, still internally praying to the Gods that the bash to the head hasn’t done Bez any internal damage. “Has he been eating a lot recently?” 

“Um no, not really. He has an appointment booked for it soon actually, but he can’t keep any food down, everything just comes straight back up. I’ve noticed it in the way he’s getting thinner and weaker and it’s really been worrying me.”

“Mr…”

“Savadori.”

“Mr. Savadori, Mr. Bezzecchi here is suffering from malnutrition. The nausea and vomiting he’s experiencing is a common symptom of brain cancer, and I’m afraid we have limited options here. Really the only thing we can offer is a feeding tube. Now there are a few different types of feeding tubes but I think it’s best you both run through those with your regular doctor. However, any option will require surgery.”

Sava nods as he processes the information. Malnutrition. A feeding tube. Fuck, Bez is going to hate this when he wakes up. This is his worst nightmare. Something to signal to everyone around him that he’s sick. A physical reminder beyond the symptoms.

“I understand this is a lot, so now that he’s stable we can give you some time alone with him if you’d like.” Sava nods. “Brilliant. There's a call button beside his bed if anything happens. We’re not sure when he’s going to wake up so if he does then press the button.”

And with that, he’s alone with Marco, the man’s skinny frame laid out stick straight and stick thin on the hospital bed. Asleep. The slow up and down movements of his chest are the only thing keeping Sava grounded. He sits on the edge of his bed, taking his hand in his own and begins to bawl. He can’t hold any of it in any longer. The pain, the anticipatory grief, the denial, the suffering. All of it comes tumbling out of him like a landslide, shoulders shaking and sobs coming out more like screams, repeating Bez’s name and unheard pleas to some non-existent higher power until his throat goes hoarse. 

Bez is the strongest person he’s ever met. Shy, yes, but so very strong. As a MotoGP rider you’re bound to go through some of the most horrific things a person can go through, but through all of it Bez had kept his head held high. He’d been able to shrug it off. Show that he was above it all.

He couldn’t shrug this one off. It’s weight was much too strong and now they have to watch as he slowly crumbles under it. Sava knows he’ll try hard to keep himself upright for as long as possible. But eventually he will collapse. And he can’t save himself, nor can Sava save him from that fate. As they sit here now, it becomes so clear that no matter what happens, it all boils down to that. Sava can’t save him.

He loses track of time, just sitting there and soaking up his presence and letting the tears flow freely. He knows it isn’t Bez’s fault that he bottles everything up, that the younger man would want him to show how he’s really feeling, but he can’t help trying to be strong. Bez needs someone to cling to. Someone who he knows won’t fall so they will take his weight when he gets too heavy.

“Sava?” Comes a faint voice from above him. He snaps his neck up and finds himself eye to eye with a delirious-looking Bez. God, he looks so frail. “What’s… where are we?”

Sava jumps up to press the call button and then immediately starts whispering reassurances into Bez’s ear, wiping away snot and tears as he holds him so very gently. Bez mumbles questions, admissions of pain, quiet whines and sniffles. He must be so disoriented and in so much pain. Sava doesn’t want to imagine how he feels right now.

A team of people in scrubs and white coats come bounding in, crowding around Bez, one of them gently pulling Sava away. He stands there and watches as they administer him with pain medication and ask him questions to which he can’t quite coherently reply. They ask over and over again, grilling him until his answers become clearer. Sava only sees flashes of his face, but the pain and confusion in his eyes each time he catches a glimpse is sickening. 

When the doctors retreat again, leaving just Sava and the doctor from earlier in the room with him. 

“Sava.” He whispers, tears in his eyes and terror etched deep into each of his features. Sava rushes over, uncaring that there’s someone still in there with them. He perches next to him and wraps his arms around him, holding him tightly. He’s run out of reassuring words so he just shushes his quiet cries instead. The doctor lets them, giving them time to just be with each other after something so undoubtedly scary. 

When they do eventually pull away, the doctor clears his throat. They had both forgotten he was there.

“It’s nice to see you conscious, Marco.” The doctor begins. Bez nods and immediately winces. “I understand this is a very disorientating experience but for reference, you just had a seizure, you’re in the hospital. You’ve clearly retained some memory as you seem to remember Mr. Savadori, which is already a very positive sign. You suffered a mild head injury on the way down, but that’s all bandaged up. The main issue is we’ve had to diagnose you with malnutrition. Mr. Savadori informed me you’ve been having trouble eating, and due to the fact your cancer is terminal, there is no use in a long term treatment plan. So we’re administering you with a feeding tube. This will require surgery and, due to the state you’re already in it would be best to get this done sooner rather than later.”

Bez isn’t sure what to say. A feeding tube. It hits him like a punch to the gut. 

He really is going to die, isn’t he?

“Is… is there no other option?” He asks, voice quiet, an edge of resignation tinging his words. He feels Sava squeeze his hand.

“I’m afraid not.” The doctor says, solemnly. Bez nods. 

“When would I be able to have this surgery?” 

“Sunday at the earliest. We could either keep you here until then or discharge you for two days and then bring you back in, it’s up to you. The only possible issue is we don’t want you to become any more malnourished. How are you with retaining fluids?” 

Bez tries to think but his brain is still foggy, finding an answer feeling like wading through thick mud. He turns to Sava with a helpless expression, Sava immediately answering, “Okay. He can drink water and other thinner liquids but he struggles with things like smoothies,” for him.

“Okay. Well if you would rather go home, we can give you supplements to put into water which will keep you somewhat stable for the two days you’d be waiting. They’re essentially electrolytes with some extra vitamins and calories in there.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that. I wanna go home.” Sava lets himself smile a little at that. Even after all of this, Bez would still rather be home with him.

“Very well. I’ll get everything you’ll need and as long as you can pass a few tests to show you’re fit to be home, we can discharge you within the hour.”

It’s three hours later when they do make it home, equipped with a bag of medical stuff, an instruction manual for when Bez gets his feeding tube put in, and his referral letter for the surgery. As soon as they make it past the front door, Bez makes a beeline for the couch and falls face first onto it, letting a long sigh into the pillow. Sava traipses in behind him, sitting next to him and rubbing small circles into his back. Bez turns around with a huff and looks up at Sava with a small smile.

“Well, it’s not like it can get any worse from here.”

It startles a wet little laugh out of the taller man, pushing some of hair out of Bez’s eyes, careful to avoid the bandage.

“Kiss me.” Bez requests breathily, looking at Sava with those big, sunken puppy eyes. He usually pulls those eyes out in bed when he wants to try something particularly kinky.

“Bez, you’re not well, we can’t-”

“Just a kiss. We don’t need to do more. I just want a kiss.” 

And Sava is nothing if not weak. He bends down and presses a slow kiss to Bez’s lips, setting the pace and keeping it there. A hand finds its way into his hair, not tugging, just carding through it. He brings his own hand up to cup Bez’s face in return.

“I love you so much.” Sava whispers against the younger man’s lips.

“I love you too.”

A few hours later, they’re curled up in bed once again, talking about everything and nothing as the sun setting casts a golden hue through their bedroom. Sava can’t take his eyes off of the way Bez seems to glow, inhumanly beautiful even now, as the warm tones dance across his face. 

“I know I can’t really eat at the moment,” Bez starts after a momentary gap in the conversation, pulling a new topic out of nowhere, which Sava knows means it’s clearly been on his mind, “but in two days I won’t be able to eat food ever again, and that’s gonna suck so bad. So can we have like… a huge feast on Saturday night? I know I’ll throw it all up but it’ll be worth it, just to eat one last time.”

Sava hadn’t really thought of it like that, that they’re approaching the last time Bez will ever eat food. Something about that feels unfathomably catastrophic.

“Of course, love. If that’s what you want.” He agrees with a smile, hiding how he feels like his world is collapsing in on itself.

“Also I need to write my will.” Bez drops casually, making Sava’s heart seize in his chest. It’s a topic he’d been putting off, and he knows Bez has too. He’s not sure why the younger man is suddenly so ready to face his imminent death head first after weeks of denial. It’s unsettling. “After my… my um… when I fell. What’s it called?”

“Seizure.” Sava fills in quietly.

“Right, sorry that was weird. Well, after my seizure I realised that I can’t be completely certain that I still have months left. So… I think I should get the will out of the way.”

“But amore, you already have one. All the riders do.”

“I know but it’s been a while since I’ve updated mine and I have a few things to change.”

“Such as?” Sava prompts, genuinely curious.

“Well for starters, half of my old minimotos have to go to Marzia. Some can stay with my babbo, and some can be reserved for when Cele has his kid.” 

“But what if Cele’s future kid doesn’t want to be a rider?” Sava asks teasingly, just trying to wind Bez up a bit.

“Oh come on, as if any child of an academy kid isn’t gonna grow up to be a rider.” Bez smiles, Sava giggles knowing how right he is. 

They discuss it for a little while, joking about what the academy boys are each going to get. It’s actually quite a pleasant conversation, if they ignore why they have to discuss this. They laugh for a solid 10 minutes when Bez says he’s going to pass all their sex toys onto Pecco, just so he can torture the man even from beyond the grave. There’s a lot of stuff he wants to give to Cele, he realises. 

“Also I want all my money to go to you. We were going to open up a joint bank account soon anyway so it only makes sense. I basically want to give everything else to you. The bikes, the hand me downs, all of it. Especially the hand me downs. I want you to give them to your kids in the future. I want them to know about me when you move on.”

“But I won’t move on.” Sava says, almost sounding bewildered, as if the notion of him finding someone else is ridiculous and offensive.

“Lory, you can’t say that so definitively. It’s okay if you do. You’re only 34, there’s no harm in falling in love again. Your life doesn’t have to end with mine.” Bez says, placing a hand on the other’s cheek. It hurts him to think about it, in all honesty. Sava falling for someone else. But he won’t be here to see it, and Sava deserves to be happy beyond him. 

Sava stays quiet. The idea of being with anyone else is completely repulsive. He only wants Bez, forever and ever.

But he can’t have him forever.

“Promise me you’ll let yourself move on after me?” 

There’s a pause. An earth-shattering, nauseating pause. And then:

“I promise.”

Saturday comes along and boy do they eat, Sava does them a barbeque, Bez’s personal favourite and they splash out. A variety of meats, all the nicest cuts and quality money can buy, and more sides than a person could need. It’s delicious, and plays out so domestically, Bez dancing around the garden to Frank Ocean and SZA and waltzing over occasionally to bother the older. Bez woke up this morning feeling brand new, forgetting all about his cancer until Sava had to remind him to take his pills.

“I love this. I love you.” Bez sighs into the back of Sava’s neck, putting his arms around him from behind. 

“I love you too.” Sava smiles, twisting his head around to plant a quick, sloppy kiss on Bez’s lips.

When they finish eating, Bez immediately runs to the bathroom to throw up, not even having time to compliment the meal or warn Sava before he’s darting off. He’d fought the nausea throughout the meal as much as he could, but he can’t keep it at bay forever. They slip into the now familiar routine, Bez hunched over the toilet ball as Sava strokes patterns into his back and keeps his hair out of his face. 

Once Bez is just dry heaving, nothing left in his system to come back up, he leans on Sava and focuses on leveling his breathing. 

“Thank you for the food. Thank you for being here with me.” He mumbles.

“Anything for you, tesoro. Anything.”

Chapter Text

The day of the surgery comes and goes in a blur. They arrive at the hospital at an ungodly hour of the morning and Bez is almost immediately whisked away into pre-op, Sava barely even having time to kiss him goodbye before he’s out of sight. 

As soon as Bez is gone, Sava is completely restless, flitting between traipsing up and down the hospital and sitting in the waiting room with his head in his hands. The surgery only takes twenty minutes, just over fourty-five with pre and post op taken into account, yet it feels like a lifetime. He knows it’s not a harmful surgery and there is very minimal risk with the procedure itself, but it’s not the procedure he fears. What if Bez doesn’t wake up from the anaesthesia? What if when they put him under he doesn’t come back up? It’s a ridiculous fear really, he knows it is. They’ve both had to have more surgeries than they can count, courtesy of the job. But this is different. Of course it is. Bez is weaker than he was back then. Sava doesn’t know if his body will handle it this time. 

His head hurts from thinking too much, especially considering this isn’t even the first time in the past few days that he’s been unsure if he’ll ever see the love of his life again, so he takes a walk to the in-hospital pharmacy and buys some painkillers, downing them and making his way back up to the waiting room. The painkillers help to relieve his headache but do nothing to calm his nerves. His stomach churns every time his thoughts stray too far into the dark recesses of his fears, and pulling himself back is getting harder each time. He keeps checking his phone, not sure what he’s hoping to see each time. He gets a few messages, one from Bez’s mom, asking for a picture of the pair of them once Bez wakes up, just to know he’s okay. Another comes from Vale, asking Sava if the surgery is done yet. There’s a few more kind texts and he replies to them all with trembling fingers.

When a doctor comes into the waiting room and calls out his name, Sava swears he nearly blacks out. He gets up, hands shaking and clammy and follows him through corridors that feel more like a labyrinth, mind reeling at the fact he’s still unaware whether or not his future husband is dead on the operating table. 

When they make it to the ward, Bez is awake and Sava feels his knees sag with relief as the man looks towards him and breathes his name out, voice raspy and quiet. He rushes over, engulfing the man in a hug of pure relief, something he feels like he’s been doing a lot lately. They rest their heads in each other’s necks, Bez completely pliant in Sava’s arms. When they pull away, Sava can’t help but let his eyes be drawn to the thin tube sitting under Bez’s nose and wrapping around his head.

“How does it feel?” Sava asks, hand resting on Bez’s face and thumb gently stroking his cheek.

“Fine, I can barely feel it honestly.” Bez says with a shrug. Sava notices how he subconsciously leans into the caresses, craving the reassurance, but chooses not to mention it. 

“I’m glad, bambino. You’ll tell me if it gets uncomfortable at all, right?”

“Mhm.”

“Good.” Sava smiles, planting a kiss on the other’s cheek. He moves from his position leaning over the bed to sitting in the cramped space next to his fiancé, wrapping an arm around him and allowing Bez to completely melt into his side.

“Oh, your mom wants me to take a selfie of us for her, by the way. Says she wants to know you’re alright.” He starts to take out his phone from his pocket but Bez stops him with a hand on his arm, looking at him with wide eyes.

“Please don’t.” He whispers, sounding almost fearful.

“What’s up, amore? It’s just your mom. She’s not going to care if you look a bit tired or whatever.”

“No, it’s not that, I just… not… not with this.” He whispers shamefully, gesturing towards his face. It takes Sava a moment to realise what he means.

“Oh, bimbo, she’s not gonna care about that either-”

“I mean I don’t want to see it.”

Oh.

That’s… oh.

Sava doesn’t say anything for a long moment, instead just taking his lover’s forlorn face into his hands and staring into his eyes. He sees the tears welling up and leans forward to kiss his eyelids before they can spill down those sunken, pale cheeks.

“You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever laid my eyes on. No tube is going to change that. And I know you don’t like it because it makes you look sick, but Bez, you are sick. You’re sick and you’re still the same beautiful, kind, talented, sexy, funny, annoying, loving Marco Bezzecchi that I fell in love with, even if you are sick.” Sava doesn’t take his eyes away from Bez’s once as he speaks, wiping away the tears that do inevitably fall with his thumbs. The younger man’s bottom lip is trembling and Sava feels sick, but he doesn’t let it show. 

“But it means I’m gonna die.”

“No, Bez. It means you’re still alive.”

A moment passes before Bez bursts into tears, curling up into Sava’s chest as best he can while still attached to so many wires. They never do manage to take that selfie, but Sava hopes that his words got to him. He means every one.

The next few hours pass in a blur, and before they know what’s happened they’re back home, trying to figure out how Bez’s feeding tube works. It takes a lot of wrangling and prodding and poking, but they eventually get it.

“Does it feel weird?” Sava asks, as Bez sits there, holding the bag that his tube is currently attached to. His eyes are still slightly red rimmed but he feels better now.

“Nah, not really. I can’t feel anything.” 

Sava nods, humming in acknowledgement and continues reading the brochure, worried he’ll miss something key. They’re both sat on the sofa, Bez’s legs in Sava’s lap. It’s a scene of perfect domestic bliss, but neither of them feel particularly blissful.

“Sava?” Bez mutters, the man in question humming once more. “When I’m in surgery, what’s it like for you?”

“Honestly?” He pauses, taking a second to think about how to phrase his answer. “Not nice. I mean, you know really. We've both had to wait outside surgical suites for each other before.”

“Yeah but it's different now.”

Sava pauses. Bez is right, it is different, but he's not sure how to say that. 

Yes, Bez, you're right. It's different because this time there's more at stake than a limb. Now I have to sit patiently in those waiting rooms not knowing if I'll ever hold you again. I've seen you have devastating crashes before, I know what it feels like to feel those split seconds of panic before I see you lift your head up in the gravel. But to feel that feeling for minutes or hours on end… you're right. It's different.

Instead of all that, Sava ends up saying, “Can we talk about something else?” A cop out answer, but he knows his partner, and he knows that Bez will feel guilty if he tells the truth, as if he has any control over his health right now.

Bez nods understandingly, then gasps as he clearly finds something to think about, shuffling closer to plop himself directly into Sava’s lap, careful not to jostle his food bag too much.

“Can we talk about the wedding?” He asks with a wide smile, Sava smiling fondly back at him at the mention of their upcoming matrimony.

“Of course, how are the plans going?” Sava puts his hands on Bez’s waist to steady him.

“Good, I’ve put the date for three weeks time, so if we let people know in the next few days I think that’s enough time for people to get here. I’ve found a venue and already got some vendors. It’ll be pretty lowkey which is perfect. Want me to show you the place I’ve got?” Sava nods so Bez pulls out his phone, showing him the most beautiful woodland venue, lined with chairs and complete with vine tangled archways, all lit by warm toned fairy lights. Bez continues swiping through the pictures, showing him the different parts of the venue. There’s an indoor bit for when they finish the ceremony and want to party indoors, or if it rains. Bez also shows him the vendors he’s booked, one of which being the caterer. The food looks ridiculously good, loads of choice, he’s even thought to accommodate vegans and vegetarians. 

“Fuck is that steak and lobster on the menu? Jesus Bez, you didn’t hold back. I can’t wait.” He groans, practically salivating at the thought of it.

“Mhm, it looks so good. You’ll have to let me know how it is.” Bez smiles and keeps swiping through the pictures. Sava feels his heart squeeze, realising he’d completely forgotten Bez won’t be able to eat any of it. He wants to say something, to apologise for being thoughtless, but one glance at Bez’s face tells him he doesn’t need to. As upset as Bez clearly is about his situation, Sava should’ve known he’s not the type to hold it against the people around him, or to make them feel guilty about his pain. He feels a strong wave of fondness overcome him, smiling at the man perched on his lap and letting him continue to cycle through the list of vendors and each little detail of the wedding venue.

Once he’s exhausted all things he could possibly show him, Bez puts his phone down and detaches his tube from the bag, now completely empty. He tosses it on the floor with a mumbled “I’ll pick it up later” when he sees the scrutinising look Sava gives him, and tosses himself onto Sava, knocking them both down to lie flat on the couch. 

“Bez!” Sava guffaws between fits of laughter, arms coming to rest around the other’s too skinny waist. 

“What? I can’t cuddle my fiancé whenever I want? That’s quite rude, Lory, don’t you know I’m ill?” He asks, gasping with mock offense and trying to stifle his giggles. Sava lightly hits his arm as a way of scolding him for joking about such things, but then pulls him in closer, tangling their limbs together. 

“I love you, bambino.” Sava sighs, nose bumping against Bez’s.

“I love you, too.” Bez says with a sleepy smile, drifting off despite the energy that was coming off of him in waves mere moments ago. 

They fall asleep like that, content and warm and together.

A knock at the door pulls them out of it, startling them both from their little mid day siesta, mildly confused and unaware of their surroundings or how much time has passed. Bez groans and goes to stand up but Sava shushes him and pushes him back down, making his way to the door while rubbing sleep from his eyes. 

He swings it open to reveal Valentino, looking sheepish.

“Vale?”

“I’m sorry to barge in uninvited but I was hoping to see Bez if that’s okay with him?” Vale says, wringing his hands in front of him nervously. “How is he?”

“He’s fine actually. The surgery went well, and he’s getting used to the feeding process already so yeah, not too bad.” Sava smiles, pleased to find it’s actually true. “We’ve both just woken up from a nap though so he might be a little confused.”

“Oh did I wake you? I am so sorry, I should’ve called before to make sure it was fine for me to come.” Vale apologises.

“No it’s fine, Vale honestly. You were right to wake us up we were asleep for-” He draws out the last syllable as he pulls his phone out to check the time and startles when he realises it’s nearly seven. “Jesus fuck- nearly four hours.”
Vale chuckles at that, shaking his head. “Of course you were. I’ve honestly never known someone to sleep more than that boy, even before all of this. There were so many times at the ranch where I’d call the boys to the track and nobody could find him, until he’d eventually be found curled up between stacks of tires or under a table. I love him but God is he a liability. My favourite occasion was when we found him asleep on his bike in the garage at like 3am.”

“Sounds like him. He does love his bikes a considerable amount.” He smiles fondly. As much as he’d like to stand outside talking about the love of his life all day, said love of his life is currently inside, probably wondering where he is. “Come on in, then. Head to the front room, I’ll go let Bez know you’re here. Want anything from the kitchen?”

“Just a tea would be great, thanks.” 

Sava smiles and heads off, going to the back room where Bez is, the younger man looking adorably dishevelled, hair sticking up in all directions and eyes that are struggling to stay open no matter how hard he rubs them. 

“Hey baby, guess who’s here to see you.” Sava prompts, taking a seat next to him on the couch.

“Who?” Bez asks, perking up at the idea of a surprise visit from one of their friends. 

“Vale.” At that, Bez’s face breaks into a huge grin, sleepiness wearing off slightly in his excitement.

“Really?” Sava nods as a response and points in the direction of the front room. Bez rushes off, bounding to where Vale is and throwing himself in his arms as soon as he spots the older man on the big couch in the corner of the room. When Vale sees his new tube, he doesn’t flinch like Bez had feared, doesn’t react at all actually. Bez wonders if it’s practiced, the lack of reaction. 

“Ciao, angioletto. How are you?” Vale says, cooing down at the boy in his arms. 

“Good, tired though. Always tired.” He huffs, pulling himself out of Vale’s arms and sitting next to him, head leaning on the older man’s shoulder. Vale nods in acknowledgement, bringing a hand up to soothe through the unruly curls on the boy’s head. 

“Sava told me the surgery went well.” He smiles, though it is tight lipped. Bez doesn’t notice.

“Yeah it was good! Probably the shortest surgery I’ve ever had.” 

“I’m glad to hear it.” It’s earnest, but tinged with something else. Something akin to fear. This time Bez does notice. 

“Vale? Are you okay?” He pulls his head from his mentor’s shoulder, looking him in the eyes and feels sick when he notices the terror in them.

“Bez… Bez if one of your friends was doing badly you’d want to know, right?” Vale asks, voice shaking.

“Of course I would, Vale. You know I would. Are you alright?”

“It’s not me, Bez. I… Look you’re going through your own stuff right now and I don’t want to make it worse by loading other people’s problems on you-”

“Vale, just tell me.” Bez asserts. He’s never had to be stern with the older man before, not one to be able to sum up the courage to raise his voice at his idol. But now, the panic outweighs any logic. Vale sighs before he speaks.

“It’s Celin.” 

Bez’s heart sinks. That’s what he had feared, what the voice in the back of his head had been telling him it was since he noticed the fear laden into Vale’s voice. 

“Fuck.” He whispers, leaning his elbows on his knees and resting his head in his hands, tugging at his hair. 

“He’s not well, Bez. I went to his motorhome after he DNF’d the other day and he just looked… lost. So lost. It’s affecting his riding but, more importantly, it’s affecting his mental health. He’s not speaking to anyone. Even his team are worried. Apparently he’s not been showing up to meetings or events, and when they go looking for him, he’s always in his motorhome, curled up in bed. We’re all so worried, Bez. And I think you’re the only one he’ll talk to.”

Bez doesn’t move. He can’t, head suddenly pounding from the force at which the information slams through him. Celin, his Celin, falling again. Falling into the void that tried to claim him before. He knows the boy is fragile, and he’d be a fool to deny what has caused this slip. He can’t help but feel guilty, even if he knows there’s nothing he can do about what is happening in the coming months.

He feels a hand thread through his own and carefully pry his fingers from his curls. He turns to his other side and sees Sava, holding a mug of tea in one hand and clinging to his own in the other, bringing his fingers up to his lips and placing a kiss to them.

“How much of that did you hear?” Vale asks the taller man, accepting the mug of tea from him and placing a hand on Bez’s back. 

“All of it. Sorry.” 

“It’s fine. One of us would’ve told you anyway.”

“I’m inviting him here.” Bez declares, sniffing and wiping the tears from his eyes he didn’t even realise had fallen. He tries to keep his voice steady and assertive, but he can't hide the way it wobbles in fear. He loves Celestino. He needs him here now. Needs to see for himself if what Vale says is true.

“Now?” Sava asks, worried about getting Bez into bed at a reasonable hour, despite their nap. He did have an entire surgery today after all.

“Yes, now. I know him. If he’s like this I can’t waste a second.” He grits out. “And I know that when I call he’ll answer.”

Sava and Vale share a look over the top of Bez’s head, Sava torn, Vale pleading. Sava sees in the older man’s eyes that this really is a matter of life or death. Bez has told him stories before of how Celestino can get, he knows the boy’s mental state is constantly balanced on a knife’s edge. He knows the second it tips the wrong way, bad things happen. He can't let even more bad things happen.

“Okay. Call him.” He concedes, Bez nodding and planting a kiss on his cheek before getting up to go make the call. He leaves and Sava melts into the couch behind him, willing for the cushions to swallow him up.

“It’s problem after problem, Vale. He shouldn’t have to be dealing with all of this.” He sighs, threading his hands through his hair and gripping so hard he might accidentally pull some strands out. “I know it’s not Celestino’s fault, I don’t blame him, or you for telling us I just… I don’t know who I blame. That’s almost worse. There’s nobody to be angry at so I’m just kind of angry at everything.”

Vale shuffles closer, staring at the man’s face before he reaches up and takes his hands out of his hair, just like Sava had done for Bez earlier, and holds them earnestly.

“Sava, you are a good man. You’re clearly immensely strong, but I still wonder… who’s helping you?” Vale asks, whole body turned to face Sava, concern written all over him. It’s been a while since someone has looked at him like that, usually those looks are directed at the man permanently attached to his hip.

“I don’t need help, Vale. I’m not the one to take pity on, he clearly needs it more than I do. I’ll be fine.” He’s getting defensive, he knows he is, but he doesn’t want to think about this right now. Yes, maybe he is struggling but it’s nowhere near as much as what Bez is going through. 

“I know he’s going through a lot, but so are you. There are people for this, you know. Grief councillors for the family and friends of those affected by this disease. I’m not saying you need pity, I’m just saying you need someone to talk to-”

“No. Vale I don’t want that. Trust me, I’ll be okay. I don’t need help. As long as I have Bez then-”

“But you won’t have him for much longer.” Vale says, voice soft yet assertive. Sava stops in his tracks. His heart seizing and blood going cold. “You forget about that sometimes, don’t you? You’re so caught up in looking after him you distract yourself from what is inevitable. But, Sava, it’s not healthy. You’re not stopping the grief by avoiding it, you’re prolonging having to deal with it, which will just make it hurt all the more in the end.” He’s not being patronising, just blunt, which Sava finds he appreciates, even though he’s struggling to form a thought right now.

Before he has a chance to reply, Bez comes back in and Vale drops his hands. The youngest takes his place in between them and lets out a shaky sigh.

“He’s on his way, he won’t be long. I’ll talk to him in the back room, you two stay here.” Bez instructs, trying to keep his tone steady. “He sounded… fuck he sounded broken.” His voice is barely above a whisper and both Sava and Vale instinctively lean in to hold him close. As the three of them sit there, interwoven, Sava can’t stop his brain wandering back to Vale’s words. The older man is right. Bez won’t be there forever, and who will Sava have then?

They stay sat like that until the doorbell goes off, breaking apart and giving each other glances. Bez takes a deep breath and, with a nod to both the older men, gets up to go let Celestino in.