Archive of Our Own ^beta

Sebastian Vettel sat on the sofa of his Monaco apartment, his phone still buzzing from Lewis Hamilton’s relentless stream of messages.

“Just try it, mate. It’s not like anyone’s going to know it’s you.”

Sebastian frowned at the glowing screen. A dating app. Not just any dating app—Veil. Lewis had described it as the “future of modern love,” an anonymous space where people met behind usernames and conversations rather than photos and profiles. No biographies, no occupations, no surface-level judgements.

Sebastian had rolled his eyes when Lewis first mentioned it during dinner, but now, after another lonely evening staring out at the harbour lights, he was reconsidering. Maybe Lewis had a point. He was tired of small talk at parties, of people who cared more about lap times and trophies than who he was after the race.

He tapped the link Lewis had sent. The sign-up screen was simple: create a username, answer a few vague preference questions, and you were in.

Sebastian leaned back, chewing his lip. A username. Something that didn’t give anything away. Something that still… felt like him. His eyes drifted to the window, the sky above Monaco already streaked with velvet-blue darkness. Midnight.

Yes. That would do.

“Midnight,” he typed, then hit the create profile button.

Some hours later, the app lit up with little notifications—pings from people looking to connect. Some sent short introductions, others emojis. Most felt shallow, performative, like the digital version of shaking hands without meeting someone’s eyes.

Sebastian opened the app to see what kind of messages he’d gotten. He was about to close out of the app when one message stopped him.

Halo: “You don’t seem like the kind of person who enjoys small talk. Am I right?”

Sebastian blinked at the bluntness. He typed back before he could overthink.

Midnight: “You’d be correct. I’m not very good at it.”

A reply came quickly.

Halo: “Good. Neither am I. I’d rather talk about something real than how bad the weather is.”

Sebastian found himself smiling, a small curve of lips he hadn’t expected.

They went back and forth for a while. Halo asked about his favourite books, then about music. Sebastian was careful—always vague, nothing that hinted at his career. But Halo was the same. No details about work, no mentions of travel or schedules. It was refreshing. Two strangers, stripped of everything but words.

When Lewis called later that night, Sebastian almost didn’t pick up.

“Tell me you made a profile,” Lewis demanded without preamble.

Sebastian huffed, lying back on the sofa. “Maybe.”

“And?”

Sebastian hesitated. He thought of the clipped but thoughtful questions, the way Halo’s words lingered after he set his phone down. “I…I’m talking to someone interesting.”

Lewis whooped through the phone. “I knew it! See? Told you. Just don’t overthink it. Sometimes you’ve got to trust the process.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, but there was no denying the flicker of warmth in his chest. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it would fade like all the other connections.

But as he drifted to sleep, his phone resting on the nightstand, the last message from Halo glowed on the screen:

Halo: “It’s strange, but I feel like you actually listen. That’s rare.”

Sebastian smiled into the dark.

—

Bahrain

The desert heat pressed against every surface, shimmering over the tarmac. Bahrain at night had its own kind of magic: the floodlights reflecting off polished carbon fibre, the air humming with tension, and the knowledge that after months of testing, the season was truly underway.

Sebastian climbed out of his car after qualifying, sweat clinging to his hairline, his fireproofs damp. He had taken pole position—the car felt alive under him, sharp, obedient. It was the kind of lap that sent adrenaline surging long after the engine went silent.

He allowed himself a rare smile as he tugged off his helmet, only for it to falter when he saw Mark Webber walking past. Mark had managed P4. Solid, but not spectacular.

“Good job,” Mark said flatly, his expression unreadable.

Sebastian nodded, clutching his helmet like a shield. “You too.”

The exchange was clipped, professional, the bare minimum expected of teammates. Mark’s tone was neutral, not unkind, but not warm either. It was the same way it had always been: formal nods, perfunctory words, as if anything more would tip them into dangerous territory neither wanted to explore.

Later that night, back in his hotel room, Sebastian lay sprawled across the bed, phone in hand. He should have been reviewing race data. Instead, his thumb hovered over Veil.

Halo was online.

Halo: “So, do you ever feel like the people you spend the most time with know you the least?”

Sebastian froze for a moment, then typed back.

Midnight: “All the time. It’s strange, isn’t it? Hours together, but no real conversation.”

Halo: “Exactly. Sometimes it feels like we’re just actors in the same play, reading lines we didn’t choose.”

Sebastian’s chest tightened. The words landed with a kind of resonance that unsettled him. He pictured Mark in the garage earlier, his eyes shuttered, his voice even. He had never thought about whether Mark might feel the same distance he did. But this was Halo. Not Mark.

He shook the thought away.

Midnight: “Then maybe it’s about finding someone who doesn’t expect you to act. Someone who lets you just… be.”

A pause. Three dots appeared, disappeared, then appeared again.

Halo: “That’s what this feels like. Talking to you. No act.”

Sebastian stared at the screen, pulse quickening. No one had said that to him in a long time. Maybe ever.

The next day, the Bahrain Grand Prix delivered its usual chaos—heat, strategy gambles, tight battles. Sebastian converted his pole into a hard-fought win, while Mark finished fourth again, just shy of the podium.

On the podium, champagne sticky on his overalls, Sebastian glanced down toward Parc Fermé. Mark was there, clapping politely, his expression calm. Their eyes met for a heartbeat, and Sebastian offered a small nod. Mark returned it, cool and distant.

Hours later, long after the celebrations had quieted, Sebastian sat alone in his hotel room with his phone again. The night outside was warm, but the glow of the screen felt warmer.

Midnight: “Hello Halo, I hope your day went well. Mine was pretty good today.

Halo: Hi Midnight, good to hear you had a good day, Mine was pretty okay as well.

Before Sebastian could think about it, he typed into the chat.

Midnight: I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said yesterday. About not acting. I don’t think I’ve ever had that with someone.”

Halo: “Maybe you do now.”

Sebastian let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. Somewhere beyond the walls of this hotel, beyond the floodlit track and the sterile garage, someone was out there—Halo—who understood him better than anyone in his team ever had.

And it didn’t matter that he had no idea who Halo really was.

Not yet.

—

Barcelona

Barcelona in May carried the hum of early summer—streets alive with chatter, the tang of paella drifting from restaurants, and the warm golden light that stretched over the paddock in the evenings. The circuit itself was unforgiving, technical, the kind of track that punished even the smallest error.

Sebastian’s weekend hadn’t gone to plan. He had wrestled the car to P6, the setup never quite clicking. He left the garage tight-lipped, helmet under one arm, answering the press with his usual efficient precision.

Mark Webber hadn’t fared better. P11. Out of the points. He kept his sunglasses on as he left, jaw set, irritation radiating off him in waves. Their paths crossed once in the motorhome corridor.

“Better luck in the next race, Mark.” Sebastian offered. His tone was neutral, polite.

“Yeah, same.” Mark said shortly, not slowing his stride.

That was it. Teammates, nothing more.

But that night, Barcelona came alive in a different way.

Sebastian sat at a restaurant table with Lewis and a couple of other drivers, the warm evening spilling in through open windows. Wine glasses clinked, conversation buzzed. Sebastian, however, had barely touched his food. His phone kept lighting up on the table, screen flashing with the familiar notification from Veil.

Lewis, mid-laugh, noticed. He leaned across the table, grinning like a cat with cream. “Mate, don’t think I don’t see you. That’s your mystery romance, isn’t it?”

Sebastian flushed, tucking the phone closer to his plate. “It’s nothing.”

Lewis snorted. “You’ve been staring at that screen more than the menu. I know that look. You’re gone.”

“I’m not,” Sebastian said quickly, though the heat in his ears betrayed him.

Lewis raised a brow. “What’s their name?”

Seb hesitated, then relented. “Halo.”

Lewis burst out laughing. “Of course it is. Are they dramatic and interesting enough for you?” He continued teasing. Sebastian tosses a bread roll at Lewis, “Oh shut up will you?” There was no heat to it, Sebastian was smiling and slightly blushing, at being caught.

Lewis holds his hands up in surrender. “But, honestly? You’ve been smiling more the last few weeks than you have in months. Don’t screw it up.” Sebastian tried to look offended, but his phone buzzed again. He couldn’t resist.

Halo: “Don’t you think Barcelona is loud? Too many people, not enough quiet corners.”

Sebastian smiled faintly as he typed back under the table.

Midnight: “Funny, I was just thinking the same.”

Across the city, in a dimly lit bar not far from the Gothic Quarter, Mark sat with Jenson. The bar was cosy, all warm wood and low chatter, glasses of whisky sweating on the counter.

Mark’s phone buzzed in his hand. He glanced down, and for the first time that evening, his shoulders loosened.

Jenson noticed instantly. “There it is. The smile.”

Mark looked up, startled. “What smile?”

“That one,” Jenson said, pointing at him with his glass. “The one you only make when you’re messaging whoever you’re always messaging. Come on, who is it? You’ve been glued to your phone for weeks. I thought you hated texting.”

Mark scowled half-heartedly. “Drop it.”

Jenson grinned, relentless. “What’s their name?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Ah, so it’s serious.”

Mark rolled his eyes but glanced down at his phone again.

Midnight: “Do you ever feel like people see you one way, but you’re not that person at all?”

Mark’s chest tightened. His thumb hovered before he typed.

Halo: “Every day. Maybe that’s why this matters. You don’t see me the way everyone else does.”

He hesitated, then sent it.

Jenson leaned over, peering at the screen. Mark jerked the phone away. “Hey.”

“I’m just saying,” Jenson laughed, “if they make you look like that—soft, for once—then maybe don’t fight it.”

Mark grumbled something into his drink, but his gaze lingered on the phone, a warmth spreading through his chest that whisky couldn’t match.

Hours later, in two separate hotel rooms across Barcelona, Sebastian and Mark lay on their beds, conversations still flowing. Both smiling into the glow of their screens, neither knowing that the person who made them feel most alive was sleeping just doors away from each other.

Tomorrow, they’d be back in the garage, voices clipped, walls high.

But tonight, Midnight and Halo belonged to each other.

—

The days between Barcelona and Monaco blurred in a haze of travel, sponsor duties, and brief moments of rest. But for Sebastian, the break back in Monaco offered something rarer: time to think.

His apartment overlooked the harbour, sunlight glittering off the water where yachts bobbed lazily. On the balcony, a breeze carried the faint scent of salt and diesel, the sounds of the city alive below. Sebastian sat with his knees drawn up, a mug of coffee cooling in his hands, phone turned face-down beside him. He had been checking it obsessively for days, waiting for Halo’s messages, replaying them in his head when they weren’t there.

It wasn’t just fun anymore. It wasn’t just distraction.

Lewis arrived that afternoon, knocking once before letting himself in as if the place belonged to him. He strode out onto the balcony, sunglasses perched on his head, taking in Sebastian’s pensive expression with a smirk.

“You’ve got that look,” Lewis said, flopping into the chair opposite him.

“What look?” Sebastian asked, defensive already.

“The one where you’re overthinking yourself into a headache.” Lewis leaned forward, snagging Sebastian’s phone off the table before he could protest. “Ah, see? Still glued to this app.”

Sebastian lunged half-heartedly to grab it back. “Give it back.”

Lewis chuckled, tossing it back to him. “So, Midnight. What’s Halo like? Whoever they are. What’s the verdict?”

Sebastian hesitated, staring down at the device in his hands. “I… I don’t know. It’s not like anything I’ve had before. We talk about real things. Not racing, not the usual crap. It feels like he sees me. Just me.”

Lewis tilted his head, suddenly serious. “And that scares you.”

Sebastian let out a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Maybe. I didn’t plan this. I didn’t mean to… feel this much.”

“Seb.” Lewis leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You’ve been miserable and guarded for months. Now you’re smiling at your phone like a teenager. Don’t run from it. Whatever this is, it’s good for you.”

Sebastian stared out over the water, silent. Finally, he whispered, “What if I’m falling for him?”

Lewis didn’t miss a beat. “Then let yourself fall. For once.”

Across the city, in a quieter corner near La Condamine, Mark sat in a small café with Jenson. It was the kind of place tourists didn’t bother with—plain wooden tables, espresso machines hissing in the background, locals chatting over cigarettes.

Mark stirred his coffee, distracted, his phone resting by his wrist. Jenson noticed, of course. Jenson always noticed.

“Spit it out,” Jenson said, leaning back in his chair.

Mark raised a brow. “What?”

“You’ve been staring into that cup like it’s going to give you answers. And every time your phone buzzes, you light up like a Christmas tree.” Jenson grinned. “You’re in deep, mate.”

Mark exhaled, leaning back. He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s… complicated.”

“Isn’t it always?”

Mark huffed out a laugh but sobered quickly. “It’s this person. Midnight. I don’t even know his real name. We’ve been talking for weeks, and it’s… different. Easy. Honest.” His voice softened. “I don’t get that with many people.”

Jenson’s teasing expression shifted to something more thoughtful. “And you’re worried because you don’t know who he really is.”

“Yeah.” Mark stared out the café window, watching passersby. “And because I’m starting to… feel things. Proper things. And I don’t even know if that’s smart.”

Jenson studied him, then shrugged. “Smart has nothing to do with it. Look, Mark—you’re one of the most guarded blokes I know. If someone’s getting past that, even without a name or face, that means something. Maybe it’s worth the risk.”

Mark swallowed, thumb brushing over the edge of his phone. A new message had just come in.

Midnight: “Sometimes I wish we weren’t anonymous. It’s strange to feel so close to someone you’ve never met.”

Mark’s chest tightened. He typed back slowly.

Halo: “I know what you mean. But maybe anonymity makes it easier to be honest. Maybe that’s why this works.”

Jenson leaned across the table, catching the softness in Mark’s eyes. “Whoever Midnight is… I think you’re already gone.”

Mark didn’t argue. He couldn’t.

Two drivers, two sides of Monaco, both staring down at glowing screens. Both hearts uneasy, both afraid, both already falling.

Neither knowing they were falling for each other.

—

Monaco

The streets of Monte Carlo were unforgiving: narrow ribbons of tarmac winding through luxury, wealth, and danger. Every driver knew that Monaco didn’t forgive mistakes, and every win here was etched into legend.

For Sebastian, the weekend had been uneven. He wrung everything he could out of the car, but luck and setup weren’t on his side. Still, he managed P4—respectable, but not what he wanted.

For Mark, though, it was magic. He had threaded the needle all weekend, sharp in qualifying, untouchable in the race. As he took the chequered flag, Monaco roared for him, a wall of sound bouncing off the harbour and tight, gleaming barriers.

Sebastian, pulling into Parc Fermé minutes later, unbuckled his belts and climbed out of his car. Sweat trickled down his temples, and his heart thudded with the familiar cocktail of exhaustion and adrenaline. He glanced over as Mark was mobbed by mechanics and officials, helmet off, grinning widely—the rare, genuine grin that softened the steel edges of his face.

Sebastian hesitated. The right thing to do was to walk past, offer the obligatory handshake or pat on the back. But something tugged at him.

He stepped forward.

Mark turned as Sebastian approached, still flushed from victory. His smile flickered, surprise flashing across his features.

“Congratulations,” Sebastian said, voice quieter than the chaos around them. His throat felt dry.

And before he could second-guess it, Sebastian leaned in and hugged him.

It was brief, almost awkward at first. Sebastian rose onto his toes just slightly to reach him properly, his arms quick around Mark’s shoulders. The scent of sweat, champagne, and warm asphalt filled his senses. Mark stiffened in surprise, but he didn’t pull away.

If anything, he held still—accepting it.

When Sebastian stepped back, their eyes met for a fraction longer than necessary. Mark’s brows furrowed slightly, as though he were trying to decode what had just happened.

Sebastian quickly dropped his gaze, cleared his throat, and stepped back into the blur of officials and cameras. His heart raced faster than it had on track.

Later that evening, back in his Monaco apartment, Sebastian sat on his bed, phone in hand, the glow of Veil lighting the room. His hair was still damp from the shower, but his skin buzzed with leftover adrenaline.

Halo had already messaged.

Halo: “My day today was in a word… overwhelming. Hard to put into words.”

Sebastian swallowed. His thumbs hovered, then moved.

Midnight: “I know what you mean. Sometimes a moment sneaks up on you, and you don’t know why it matters so much.”

A long pause. The three dots appeared and disappeared twice before Halo finally replied.

Halo: “Yeah. Exactly that. Like something shifted. Just for a second.”

Sebastian’s chest tightened. He thought of the hug, the shock in Mark’s eyes, the strange warmth that lingered on his skin even hours later. He told himself it was just adrenaline, just respect. But his heart whispered something else.

Midnight: “Did you like it? The shift?”

He stared at the screen, pulse thrumming. The answer came slower this time.

Halo: “I think I did. More than I should have.”

Sebastian lay back against the pillows, his phone pressed to his chest for a moment, eyes closed. In the chaos of the day, in the clipped words and competitive silences, something had cracked open.

Neither of them knew what it meant yet. But both of them felt it.

And both of them were shaken by just how much.

—

Canada

The Circuit Gilles Villeneuve had its own rhythm. Wide straights broken by chicanes, the infamous Wall of Champions looming at the edge of mistakes. Montreal in June hummed with energy—fans crowding the paddock gates, maple leaf flags waving in the stands, the air heavy with the scent of grilled food and the faint tang of the river.

Sebastian sat in the engineering debrief room, helmet hair still damp from the race, his arms folded tightly across his chest. The race had been messy. He’d managed P4, wrestling every ounce of performance out of the car. Not what he wanted, but survivable.

Mark had come home in P7, and it showed in the stiff line of his jaw as he leaned back in his chair, silent for the first ten minutes of the debrief. The engineers picked apart the stints, the pit calls, the tyre degradation.

But it wasn’t long before the dam broke.

“Why didn’t we swap earlier?” Mark’s voice cut through the drone of technical talk. His tone wasn’t outright raised, but there was heat in it. His eyes flicked briefly to Sebastian, then to the head engineer. “I was quicker in the middle stint. Sitting behind cost me time.”

Sebastian sat up straighter, bristling. “Quicker? You were burning your tyres out trying to force the pace. If we’d swapped, I’d have been the one stuck behind you, and we’d both be slower. It was the right call.”

Mark turned his head sharply, his expression hard. “It was the right call for you, maybe.”

The engineers shifted uncomfortably, eyes darting between their drivers. No one dared interrupt.

Sebastian’s chest tightened, heat flooding his face. He hated this—the feeling that Mark saw him only as the selfish teammate, the golden boy who always got the better call. He pressed his palms flat against the table.

“You think I wanted to sit there protecting my tyres while you tried to dive every corner? I was racing too. You don’t have to act like I don’t care about the team.”

Mark’s laugh was short, humourless. “Could’ve fooled me.”

The words stung more than Sebastian wanted to admit. He bit down hard on his reply, and for the rest of the debrief, silence hung thick.

That evening, the hotel room felt colder than usual. The city outside was alive—horns, laughter, the occasional shout of a fan still roaming the streets—but inside, Sebastian sat curled on the edge of his bed, laptop balanced across his knees.

He wasn’t sure why he opened Veil. Maybe it was habit. Maybe it was the ache in his chest he couldn’t quite shake.

Halo was online.

Halo: “Rough day. Feels like I was invisible out there.”

Sebastian’s breath caught. His fingers hovered before he typed.

Midnight: “I know the feeling. Sometimes you give everything and it still feels like you don’t matter enough.”

There was a pause before Halo answered.

Halo: “Exactly. It’s like… no one sees how hard you’re fighting. They just see the result and write the rest off.”

Sebastian exhaled slowly, tension easing from his shoulders. He leaned back against the headboard, letting the words come.

Midnight: “But I see it. You don’t have to prove it to me. I know how much you’re giving.”

Another pause. Sebastian pictured the other man—faceless, nameless, somewhere across the world—reading those words.

Halo: “That means more than you know.”

Sebastian swallowed hard, blinking against the unexpected burn in his eyes.

In the garage that evening, Mark’s words had been sharp, cutting. Here, Halo’s words felt raw, vulnerable. The contradiction twisted in his chest, confusing him.

Midnight: “Sometimes I wish we could just… strip everything else away. Just be people, not competitors, not whatever the world thinks we are.”

The reply came after a long stretch of silence.

Halo: “Me too. More than I can admit anywhere else.”

Sebastian closed the laptop softly, sitting in the quiet glow of the bedside lamp. He should’ve felt lighter, comforted by the exchange. But instead, the ache was deeper now, threaded through with something he couldn’t name.

Because today, Halo had been the only one to soothe him. And Mark had been the one to wound him.

And somehow, Sebastian couldn’t separate the two.

—

Valencia

The Spanish sun beat mercilessly on the paddock. Valencia always felt more like a furnace than a racetrack, the heat rising from the asphalt in shimmering waves. The harbour sparkled just beyond the barriers, but no one in the garage had time to notice the view—everyone’s attention was locked on timing screens, mechanics, and the constant buzz of radios.

For Sebastian, the day had collapsed in a single moment. A mechanical issue, sudden and brutal, had ended his race early. He’d sat slumped in the cockpit, helmet still on, while marshals wheeled his car back behind the barriers. His radio crackled with muted apologies from the pit wall, but they might as well have been silence.

By the time he returned to the garage, peeling off his gloves with short, jerky movements, his expression was a storm cloud. P4 for Mark, a solid finish for the team. And normally Sebastian might’ve managed a half-smile, a congratulation. But not today.

He found Mark leaning against the side of the motorhome, still in his race suit, sweat soaking dark patches into the fabric. Mark straightened when Sebastian walked past.

“Tough luck today,” Mark said quietly, almost gently. “Car just gave out on you.”

Sebastian froze mid-step. Something inside him flared hot and unsteady.

“Really sharp observation,” he snapped, turning to face him. “Thanks for pointing it out. I wouldn’t have noticed.”

Mark blinked, his mouth parting in surprise at the venom in Sebastian’s tone. His brows knit, but he didn’t rise to it.

“I wasn’t—”

“Don’t,” Sebastian cut him off, voice sharper than he intended. “Don’t stand there and act like you know how it feels to just watch everything go up in smoke. You finished. Good for you.”

The silence that followed was thick. Mechanics passed by with hurried glances but said nothing. Mark’s jaw worked, as though he were biting back a reply. In the end, he only gave a short nod and stepped aside, letting Sebastian storm past into the cool shade of the motorhome.

That night, Sebastian’s hotel room was dark except for the blue glow of his laptop screen. He hadn’t wanted dinner. He hadn’t wanted to see anyone. He’d tossed and turned, replaying the race in his head, the way the steering had gone stiff in his hands, the radio call telling him to stop. And then, inevitably, replaying his own voice snapping at Mark.

The anger had burned away into something heavier—guilt.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard before logging into Veil. He wasn’t surprised to see Halo online. Somehow, Halo always seemed to be there when he needed him most.

Midnight: “Today was a disaster. I lashed out at someone who didn’t deserve it.”

There was a pause, long enough that Sebastian almost closed the laptop. Then the reply appeared.

Halo: “Bad days make us say things we don’t mean. What matters is whether we try to fix it.”

Sebastian’s throat tightened. He pressed his palms against the keys, forcing himself to write back.

Midnight: “But what if I hurt them more than I thought? What if I can’t fix it?”

Halo: “Then you try anyway. People see the effort. And sometimes, they’re just waiting for you to take that step.”

Sebastian leaned back, exhaling slowly. He pictured Halo somewhere quiet, typing with the same hesitant pauses. He didn’t know who he was, what his world looked like, but he knew the steadiness of his words.

Midnight: “You make it sound simple.”

Halo: “It isn’t. But I believe you can do it.”

Sebastian shut the laptop softly, leaving the words hanging in the dark like a lifeline.

The next morning, the paddock was quieter, stripped of the fever of race day. Engineers packed up equipment, team members moved slower, shoulders slumping with exhaustion. Sebastian found Mark near the garage, talking with one of the mechanics.

He hesitated, his heart thudding. Then he forced himself forward.

“Mark,” he said, voice steadier than he felt.

Mark turned, eyes wary but not closed off. Sebastian swallowed, hands curling into fists at his sides.

“I owe you an apology. Yesterday… I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. You were only trying to be kind.”

Mark studied him for a long moment. Then, with a small tilt of his head, he gave a half-smile. “Apology accepted. You had a rough day. Happens to all of us. Just don’t make a habit of it, mate.”

Relief loosened something in Sebastian’s chest. He nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

“Deal.”

For the first time in days, the air between them didn’t feel sharp-edged. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start—something small, something real.

Sebastian walked away with a faint smile, thinking of Halo’s words. Sometimes, they’re just waiting for you to take that step.

—

Silverstone

Silverstone was alive before the engines even started. The circuit thrummed with the weight of history—Union Jacks waving in the grandstands, the low roar of the crowd carrying across the Northamptonshire countryside. The July air smelled faintly of cut grass and petrol, a mix that never failed to remind Sebastian why he loved this sport.

By the time the chequered flag fell, the place had become thunder.

Mark had crossed the line P1—a commanding, hard-fought victory that sent the British fans to their feet. Sebastian, pushing hard all race, had secured P3. It wasn’t a win, but it was a podium, and it meant the team walked away with more than they’d dared hope for.

The podium ceremony was a blur of champagne spray and camera flashes. Mark grinned as the anthem blared, holding his trophy aloft. Sebastian, a little shorter, found himself watching Mark for a moment longer than he should have, catching the light in his teammate’s eyes.

Later, the garage was transformed. Mechanics clapped backs, bottles of beer appeared from nowhere, and someone started blasting music from a tinny speaker.

Sebastian found himself pressed into the middle of it all. A mechanic shoved a drink into his hand, another ruffled his still-damp hair, and then Mark appeared at his side.

“Not bad, eh?” Mark’s grin was wide, genuine, his suit still damp with champagne.

Sebastian lifted his bottle in a mock toast. “Not bad. Could’ve been better if you’d let me through, though.”

Mark chuckled, shaking his head. “Always greedy. You’ll get your turn.”

For once, the teasing didn’t sting. Sebastian laughed, the sound light and unguarded, and Mark’s smile softened just a fraction at the sight.

They lingered together longer than usual that night. In the past, they might’ve drifted to opposite corners of the garage, orbiting each other with wary distance. But now Sebastian found himself standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Mark, swapping small stories about their stints, their tyres, the chaos of the first lap. Every so often, Sebastian caught Mark watching him—not with suspicion, but with something closer to curiosity.

Hours later, when the noise had dulled and the paddock emptied, Sebastian was back in his hotel room. The adrenaline hadn’t worn off yet, his ears still buzzing faintly from the cheers. He opened his laptop, fingers finding their way to Veil almost before he thought about it.

Halo was online.

Midnight: “It was a good day at work today. My colleague did a pretty great job today. We’re both pretty happy. And your advice worked, we managed to patch things up as well. I hope.”

Halo: “Sounds like you’re celebrating. And that’s good to hear. I’m proud of you Midnight.”

Midnight: “Yeah. He deserved it. He drove the project really well.”

Sebastian paused, keeping what happened today vague enough to not raise suspicion. The admission sitting oddly on the screen. Complimenting Mark—even indirectly—hadn’t always come easily.

Halo’s reply came quickly.

Halo: “Funny. I was thinking today how much I’d like to celebrate something like that with you. In person, I mean.”

Sebastian’s heart gave a strange, startled jump. He stared at the blinking cursor, unsure how to answer.

Midnight: “In person?”

Halo: “Yeah. We’ve been doing this for a while now. It feels… real. Don’t you think?”

Sebastian swallowed hard. His hands hovered, trembling slightly over the keys.

Midnight: “It does. More real than I expected when I started this.”

Halo: “So maybe it’s time. Not right away. But soon. If you’d want that.”

Sebastian leaned back in the chair, staring at the message. The thought had crossed his mind before—wondering who Halo really was, if meeting would shatter the fragile magic they’d built. But tonight, after Silverstone, with Mark’s laugh still echoing in his head and the warmth of champagne still on his skin, the idea didn’t seem impossible.

Midnight: “Maybe soon. I’d like that.”

There was a pause, then Halo’s final reply for the night.

Halo: “Good. That’s enough for now.”

Sebastian closed the laptop, a small smile tugging at his lips. The weight between him and Mark was lighter these days, their edges softening. He couldn’t have explained why, but the idea of Halo—and Mark—felt less like two different worlds and more like paths slowly bending toward each other.

—

The summer air in Monaco clung warm and heavy, even as the evening drifted in. The streets near the harbour were alive with the usual mix of locals and tourists: scooters buzzing down narrow lanes, couples in linen shirts wandering hand-in-hand, the distant clink of cutlery on terraces overlooking the sea.

Sebastian sat at a corner table of a small restaurant tucked away on Rue Grimaldi. The kind of place Lewis had once teased him for liking—quiet, understated, the tables too close together but the food worth every bite. Tonight, he hadn’t ordered anything yet. The white linen napkin lay untouched in his lap, his hands wrapped tightly around a glass of water that had already sweated a circle onto the tablecloth.

He was early. He always was. He’s German. His heart hadn’t stopped its nervous pace since he’d left the apartment, since he’d typed the last message to Halo on Veil.

Midnight: 7:30, at L’Atelier. I’ll be there.

The decision to meet had felt monumental. For weeks, their conversations had danced closer to the possibility. Halo’s words had been steady, reassuring—promising that the connection between them was real, worth risking the unknown. And Sebastian, though terrified, had agreed.

Now, sitting alone in the glow of the low-hanging street lamps, he couldn’t shake the thought that this was too much like a dream.

Mark’s stride slowed as he turned onto the street. The restaurant was in sight, its windows spilling golden light onto the cobblestones. His chest tightened as his gaze swept over the tables.

And then he saw him.

Sebastian.

Head bowed slightly, curls falling into his eyes, fingers fidgeting with the condensation on his glass. He looked nervous—vulnerable, even—in a way Mark had rarely seen at the track. No bravado, no sharp edges. Just Sebastian, waiting.

Mark stopped dead. His breath caught as the truth slammed into him. Midnight. All those words, all those late-night conversations, the quiet confessions and moments of shared comfort—they belonged to Sebastian.

For a fleeting second, the world seemed to shift into place. It made sense. The wit, the stubbornness, the quiet heart that came through in every message. Of course it was Sebastian.

But the rush of recognition was quickly drowned by panic.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. He hadn’t prepared for this. Not for his teammate, not for the man he’d spent years bristling against, colliding with on track and off. How could he reconcile the Midnight who had soothed him with words, and the Sebastian who had cut him sharp in the garage?

His legs felt heavy, but he forced himself forward, just enough to step through the doorway. The maître d’ gave him a curious glance; Mark shook his head quickly and veered toward Sebastian’s table.

Sebastian looked up, his blue eyes lighting briefly in recognition—though not with the right recognition. He smiled, small and polite.

“Mark,” Sebastian said, surprised. His voice carried the softness of someone caught off guard. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Mark swallowed hard. Every instinct screamed at him to sit, to explain, to close the distance between Halo and Midnight. But fear twisted inside him, sharp and relentless. If Sebastian knew, if this fragile thing between them shattered—

“Evening,” Mark managed instead. He kept his tone neutral, almost clipped, as though he’d simply stumbled in on accident. “Didn’t mean to intrude.”

Sebastian’s brows drew together, confusion flickering across his face. “You’re not intruding. I’m just…” He hesitated, glancing at the empty seat across from him, then back at Mark. His shoulders tightened. “I’m waiting for someone.”

The words hit harder than Mark expected. He forced a thin smile, nodding once.

“Right. I’ll let you get back to it.”

And before Sebastian could reply, before his own resolve crumbled, Mark turned and walked out into the night.

Sebastian watched him go, bewilderment tightening his chest. The restaurant’s noise swelled back into focus around him—the clatter of cutlery, the murmur of conversation—but all he could feel was the sharp hollowness where anticipation had been.

He sat there long after the agreed time passed, long after it became clear that Halo wasn’t coming. Each minute added weight to the ache in his chest. He picked at the edge of his napkin, ordered nothing, and finally left with his head bowed low, the streets of Monaco blurring in his vision.

When he got back to his apartment, he opened Veil with shaking hands. Halo’s profile showed nothing. No new messages. No explanation. Just silence.

Sebastian closed the laptop with more force than necessary, his chest tight and raw. He lay back on the couch, staring at the ceiling, a single thought circling like a wound he couldn’t touch:

Why didn’t he come?

—

Germany

The Nürburgring circuit had always carried a special weight for Sebastian. Racing on home soil wasn’t just about points or podiums—it was about expectation. The grandstands were awash in red and yellow, German flags snapping against the wind, fans chanting his name from dawn until dusk. It should have been exhilarating.

But this weekend, everything felt muted.

Sebastian had finished P5, a solid if unremarkable result. Mark had brought the car home in P8, frustrated by balance issues that plagued him all race. The team had clapped them both on the back, spoken about the points haul, but Sebastian couldn’t summon any pride.

All he could think about was Monaco. The way he’d sat waiting at that restaurant, watching every minute slip by, hope souring into something sharp and hollow. The memory still sat in his chest like a stone.

That evening, the paddock had emptied of most fans, the garages quiet as equipment was packed into crates. Sebastian sat slouched in a chair inside the motorhome, still half in his race suit. Across from him, Lewis sprawled with casual ease, fiddling with his phone before glancing up.

“You’ve been sulking since Thursday, mate,” Lewis said, his tone light but his eyes sharp. “Spill it. What’s got you in a mood?”

Sebastian hesitated, chewing at the inside of his cheek. Of all people, Lewis was the one he trusted most off track—his relentless teasing balanced with a genuine care Sebastian could always feel beneath the surface.

“I was supposed to meet Halo,” Sebastian admitted finally, voice low. “We’d been… talking, for months now. Talked about meeting, he brought it up in fact. And I thought…” He trailed off, pressing his palms together. “I thought it was real.”

Lewis’s brow furrowed. “He didn’t show?”

Sebastian gave him a sad look. “Nope.”

Lewis softened. “Has he messaged you back at all?”

Sebastian’s silence was answer enough. His shoulders sagged, the memory of that night pressing heavy again.

“I sat there for an hour,” Sebastian murmured. “He never came. And he hasn’t explained. Nothing. Just—gone.”

Lewis leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “That’s brutal. But hey—doesn’t mean what you had wasn’t real. Maybe he panicked. Maybe he’s an idiot. But none of that’s on you.”

Sebastian’s throat tightened. He wanted to believe that. Wanted to believe he hadn’t been foolish for trusting someone who existed only behind a screen.

“Feels like it is,” he said quietly.

Lewis clapped him on the shoulder. “Trust me—it’s not.”

Elsewhere in the paddock hotel, Mark sat with Jenson, a glass of whisky sweating on the table between them. The low murmur of the bar washed over their booth, but Mark barely heard it.

“You’ve been chewing glass all night,” Jenson said, tipping his drink toward him. “What’s going on? Don’t tell me it’s just the car.”

Mark exhaled sharply through his nose, rubbing a hand across his face. He’d carried this weight since Monaco, since the moment he’d seen Sebastian sitting alone at that restaurant table.

“I screwed up,” he admitted. “Properly screwed up.”

Jenson arched a brow. “With who? Midnight?”

“Yeah”, Mark nodded, looking down at his hands. “So, what happened?” Jenson asked quietly.

“We were supposed to meet in person in Monaco,” Mark shook his head, the words tumbling out faster now. “I saw him that night in Monaco. Sitting there, waiting. And I couldn’t… I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t tell him it was me.

“Couldn’t tell who? Midnight?”, Jenson tried to calm him down as best he could.

Mark groaned, leaning back in his chair. “It’s not just Midnight. Not exactly. It’s him, Jenson, it’s Sebastian.”

Jenson blinked, then let out a low whistle. “Bloody hell.”

“See, it’s all messed up. I screwed it all. The one good thing going on in my life. And I left him there.”

Jenson stared at him, unimpressed. “You left him?”

Mark’s jaw tightened. “I panicked. It’s Seb. My teammate. The guy I’ve spent half my career butting heads with. And now—now I can’t stop thinking about him. Midnight or Sebastian, it’s the same person, and I’ve fallen for him. But I don’t know how the hell to fix it.”

Jenson leaned forward, his tone softer now. “You start by not running away. Send him a message. Be honest. You can’t keep both sides separate forever.”

Mark sighed heavily, staring into his glass. Maybe Jenson was right. Maybe it was time to stop hiding.

That night, back in his hotel room, Mark opened Veil for the first time since Monaco. His hands shook as he typed.

Halo: “I owe you an apology. I should have been there that night. I let fear get the better of me, and I hurt you. I’m sorry.”

Sebastian saw the notification minutes later. His heart hammered as he clicked, the words blurring for a second before they settled. He sat frozen, torn between anger and relief.

Finally, he typed.

Midnight: “You left me waiting. Do you have any idea what that felt like?”

The reply came quickly, almost desperate.

Halo: “I do. I’ve thought about it every day since. I don’t expect you to forgive me. But I couldn’t stay silent anymore.”

Sebastian’s fingers hovered. He wanted to lash out, to say how humiliating it had been. But underneath the hurt was something else—something that had never really gone away, even in the silence.

Midnight: “I don’t understand why. But… I still want to believe you.”

Mark let out a shaky breath as the message appeared.

Halo: “Then let me prove it. Please. I don’t want to lose this. I don’t want to lose you.”

Sebastian stared at the screen, heart pounding. He didn’t know if trust could be rebuilt, but for tonight, forgiveness felt like a step he could take.

Midnight: “Alright. One more chance.”

He closed the laptop, curling into bed with the faintest flicker of hope warming his chest.

And across the city, Mark did the same, a promise forming silently in the dark—that this time, he wouldn’t run.

—

Hungary

The Hungarian Grand Prix always felt strangely suspended in time—heat shimmering off the asphalt, the narrow track looping like a ribbon, the countryside pressing in around the circuit. It was a place where tempers often frayed under the sun, and yet where bonds, too, could tighten in the long, languid hours between sessions.

For Sebastian, the weekend had begun with the same heaviness he’d carried since Monaco. Even with Halo’s recent apology, the ache hadn’t lifted. Forgiveness on a screen was one thing. Trusting again in reality—that was something else entirely.

On Saturday evening after qualifying, Sebastian found himself alone at the back of the paddock, leaning against a railing looking into the distance. The air buzzed with cicadas and the distant hum of engines. He wasn’t sulking exactly—he hated that word—but he felt worn, like all the fight had drained out of him.

“Don’t tell me you’re melting already,” a familiar voice drawled.

Sebastian glanced up, surprised to find Mark standing there, hands shoved in his pockets. His hair was damp from the shower, dressed in a pair of jeans and a loose T-shirt. Normally, Sebastian would have expected a quick jab, maybe a quip about his moodiness. Instead, Mark lowered himself onto the railing beside him with a quiet grunt, and sat down.

Sebastian blinked. “You’re… sitting.”

Mark smirked faintly. “Sharp observation, Seb. Don’t sound so shocked.”

“I just—didn’t think you’d…” Sebastian trailed off, uncomfortable with finishing the thought: sit here with me, just to be here.

Mark let the silence hang, then shrugged one shoulder. “You looked like you needed company.”

That simple, offhand remark startled Sebastian more than any sarcastic bite could have. He looked down quickly, tracing a finger over the scratched edge of the metal railing. “I’m fine.”

“Mm,” Mark said, clearly unconvinced. “You’ve been carrying the same face all weekend. Thought I’d give you a break from your own head.”

Sebastian almost smiled at that, though he fought it back. For a long time, they sat in the thick summer quiet. Occasionally a mechanic passed by in the distance, or a bird cut across the sky. Mostly it was just them, two teammates with years of sharp edges between them, suddenly finding a sliver of stillness side by side.

When Sebastian finally spoke, it was in a low voice. “Do you ever… feel like it’s all too much? Like you’re here, but you’re not really… here?”

Mark’s eyes flicked to him, sharper now. He didn’t answer immediately. “Yeah,” he admitted. “More often than I’d like. Racing takes a lot out of you. Takes a lot from you, if you let it.”

Sebastian swallowed. Halo had said something like that once, weeks ago in a late-night chat. That work sometimes could swallow a person whole unless they held on to themselves. The echo was so strong it made Sebastian’s chest tighten.

Mark didn’t notice, or if he did, he didn’t push. He just stretched his legs out and leaned back on his hands. “Sometimes all you can do is sit. Wait it out. And not do it alone.”

Sebastian’s throat worked. “That… helps?”

Mark’s lips twitched into the smallest smile. “Depends on the company.”

For once, Sebastian let the silence feel comfortable. It lasted until someone called Mark’s name, pulling him away, but not before Mark gave Sebastian’s shoulder a quick, solid squeeze—a gesture so simple, so unexpected, that Sebastian found himself holding on to it long after Mark was gone.

The race itself was a blur of sweat and concentration. Sebastian drove with his usual intensity, fighting the car to P4. Respectable, though short of the podium. Mark wrestled his own setup demons, managing P8. By the time the checkered flag fell, both were exhausted, dripping with heat and frustration.

Later, in the team’s hospitality unit, Sebastian sat at a table nursing a bottle of water, hair damp, overalls tied around his waist. He barely noticed when Mark dropped into the seat across from him, equally drained.

“Tough one,” Mark said, leaning back with a sigh.

Sebastian nodded. “Car felt like it was on ice.”

“Tell me about it.” Mark rubbed at his jaw, then gave a half-smile. “Still—points on the board. Could’ve been worse.”

Sebastian huffed, staring at the condensation sliding down his bottle. “You always say that. ‘Could’ve been worse.’”

Mark tilted his head. “Well, it’s true.”

The words sparked in Sebastian’s mind, tugging at memory. Halo had once typed the same thing to him after a rough qualifying: Could’ve been worse. Don’t beat yourself up over it. At the time, it had felt oddly comforting, like someone had reached through the screen to steady him.

Now, hearing it aloud from Mark, his stomach flipped.

His gaze darted up, studying the man across from him. Tired eyes, strong jaw, a half-smile that didn’t quite mask the weariness beneath. For a dizzying second, Sebastian felt the two halves—Mark and Halo—sliding closer together.

“You okay?” Mark asked, brow furrowing at Sebastian’s look.

Sebastian jerked his gaze away, heat rising in his neck. “Fine. Just… tired.”

Mark didn’t push, though Sebastian felt his eyes linger. Instead, Mark tipped his head back against the chair, letting out a slow breath. “Well, for what it’s worth—you did bloody well out there. Better than I did.”

Sebastian startled at the softness of the compliment. Mark wasn’t stingy with respect, but he rarely voiced it so directly.

“Thank you,” Sebastian said quietly.

Mark’s mouth curved again, a little tired, a little sincere. “Don’t mention it.”

That night, lying awake in his hotel room, Sebastian replayed the day in his head. The hours sitting with Mark before the race. The way he’d spoken—simply, without judgment, almost like Halo would. And then those words, echoing exactly from one world into the other.

It unsettled him, left him restless. For so long, he’d kept Halo and Mark in separate boxes: one a secret, cherished connection; the other, a complicated teammate. But in Hungary, the boxes had blurred.

Sebastian turned on his side, staring into the dark. He didn’t know what it meant, not yet. But for the first time, he wasn’t sure he wanted the lines to stay so clear.

—

Monaco in August felt different. The paddock chaos was far away, the roar of engines replaced by the slow hum of scooters and the lazy lap of water against the harbour walls. Sebastian had always liked the city best in these rare quiet weeks—when the yachts seemed less like stages and more like homes, and when he could vanish into backstreets without the world watching.

The lull of summer break felt almost unreal after the blur of Hungary. For once there was no travel, no early alarms, no endless debriefs. Just heat rising off the stones of Monaco, the slow shuffle of locals through narrow streets, and the quiet tug of the sea.

Sebastian found himself walking along the marina one evening, just for the sake of it. The air smelled faintly of salt and engine oil. His thoughts kept drifting back to Hungary — to the way Mark had sat beside him in the paddock after the race, steady and unguarded, the two of them talking about nothing and everything until the lights dimmed.

He hadn’t expected to hear from Mark again so soon. But the next morning, there’d been a text.

Mark: Would you like to go for a coffee with me? We could talk about Hungary.

Mark: You pretty down that weekend.

Sebastian had hesitated for all of ten seconds before replying.

Seb: Sure. I’d like that. You’re buying.

And so it began — casual meet-ups that somehow became a habit.

They met at a café tucked between pastel buildings, the kind of place where no one looked twice at them. Sometimes they talked about the team — the endless upgrades, the exhaustion, the feeling of running in circles. Other times, they didn’t talk about racing at all. Mark would share stories about growing up in Queanbeyan, about the stubborn dog he’d had as a kid. Sebastian found himself laughing more than he had in months.

One afternoon, they walked along the promenade after a sudden summer rain, shoes in hand, the stones still slick beneath their feet. The city shimmered, golden and damp.

Mark glanced at him as they walked. “You ever notice how quiet it gets after the season slows down?”

Seb shrugged, watching the sunlight ripple across the water. “I don’t like it. It feels too still. Like the world’s waiting for something to happen.”

Mark smiled faintly. “Maybe it is.”

There was something in his tone — something soft and knowing — that made Sebastian’s stomach twist. He wanted to ask what that meant, but he didn’t. Instead, they walked on in silence, shoulders brushing occasionally, the sound of the waves filling the space between them.

Over the course of the week, they saw each other again. Sebastian invited him on his morning run. Mark didn’t hesitate in yes to the invitation. They ran along the harbour that ended with them doubled over in laughter when Mark tripped over his shoelace. The kind of ease that shouldn’t have been possible between two people with their history.

And yet, it was.

That evening, Mark invited Sebastian out to dinner, retuning the invitation of the early morning run. The air was crisp, carrying a hint of autumn as they found themselves seated at an elegant, candlelit table on the terrace of a charming bistro nestled in the heart of the city. The faint hum of quiet conversations and the gentle clinking of cutlery formed a comforting backdrop.

Mark adjusted his cufflinks, glancing across at Sebastian with a warm smile. "I wanted to return the invitation, after this morning.” he began, his voice steady with sincerity.

Sebastian chuckled, swirling the deep red wine in his glass. "I’d say this is an upgrade from this morning. Better than Lewis dragging me to a club tonight, if he found I was staying in tonight, alone.”

A waiter approached with menus, but Mark waved him off politely. "I took the liberty of ordering for us. Hope that’s alright."

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Confident, aren’t we? I like that."

Their appetisers arrived—a delicate arrangement of bruschetta topped with vibrant heirloom tomatoes, basil, and a drizzle of balsamic glaze. They savoured the first bites in comfortable silence, the flickering candle casting soft shadows on their faces.

Mark leaned back, his expression thoughtful. "You know, I’ve been thinking about the race in Monaco. It taught me more about patience than strategy."

Sebastian nodded, setting down his fork. "Funny how life lessons sneak in when you least expect them. For me, it was about trust—not just in the team but in myself."

As the main course arrived, rich aromas of seared salmon with a lemon dill sauce filled the air. Their conversation flowed effortlessly, weaving through tales of past adventures, shared ambitions, and even the occasional light-hearted tease.

The evening unfolded with laughter and reflections, the bond between them growing stronger with each shared story and heartfelt glance, a dinner that more than made up for failed attempt in Mark. Or that’s what Mark told himself.

After dinner, they walked along the harbour, not wanting the night to end. He walked Sebastian back to his apartment building — a sleek, minimal looking facade with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the sea.

“Well, this is me.” Sebastian said pointing to the building. “I really had an amazing time tonight.”

“Me too. More than I’ve had in a long time.” Mark replied back.

Mark was watching him. Really watching — eyes soft, expression unreadable. The moment stretched thin. Sebastian felt his breath catch, his pulse skittering in his chest.

“Mark…” he started, but the word came out barely above a whisper.

Mark took a slow step closer. The space between them dissolved. Sebastian could smell the faint scent of salt and soap, see the flicker of uncertainty in Mark’s eyes that mirrored his own.

It would have been easy to close the distance — too easy.

Sebastian felt his heart lurch as Mark’s gaze dropped to his lips, and for a moment, it felt inevitable.

And then—

Mark’s phone rang in his pocket. The moment shattered like glass. Glancing at the screen, he saw Jenson’s name flashing. Mark stepped back quickly, clearing his throat. “Jenson, hey mate.” He answered and spoke on hushed tones. Sebastian turned away, face flushed.

“Right,” Mark muttered, putting the phone back in his pocket and rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s… timing for you.”

Sebastian gave a shaky laugh. “Yeah. Perfect timing.”

The tension drained into awkward laughter. They stayed there for a few moments — until the weight of the almost-moment settled into something unnamed but undeniable.

That night, back in his apartment, Sebastian stared at his phone for a long time before messaging Halo.

Midnight: Have you ever met someone who made you forget what you were looking for?

He didn’t get a reply right away.

When it came hours later, it read:

Halo: Once. And I still haven’t stopped thinking about him.

Sebastian’s heart twisted. He didn’t sleep much that night.

—

Lewis had a habit of showing up unannounced, especially when Sebastian least expected it.

That evening, he found Sebastian sitting at his balcony table, laptop open but untouched, the sea breeze ruffling his hair. A half-drunk glass of iced tea sweated on the railing.

“Mate,” Lewis said, pulling out a chair, “you look like a ghost. What’s going on?”

Sebastian sighed, pushing the laptop closed. “It’s complicated.”

Lewis smirked. “When isn’t it, with you?”

Sebastian huffed a laugh but didn’t answer right away. He ran a hand through his hair, staring out at the horizon where the sun was melting into gold.

“You know how I told you about Halo?” he said finally.

“Yeah. Mysterious internet boyfriend. Still anonymous. Still sounds a bit dodgy, if you ask me.”

Sebastian shot him a look. “He’s not— It’s not like that.” He hesitated. “It’s real, Lewis. What we have. Even if I’ve never met him.”

Lewis nodded slowly. “Alright. And what’s got you looking like your dog died?”

Sebastian exhaled. “Mark.”

Lewis blinked. “Webber?”

Sebastian nodded, his throat tight. “We’ve been spending time together lately. After Hungary, things changed. He’s… different. Softer. And I don’t know what’s happening to me, because every time I’m around him, I feel—” He stopped, searching for words. “I feel the same way I do when I talk to Halo. And that scares me.”

Lewis’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait. So you’re catching feelings for your teammate and your anonymous pen pal? Mate, that’s—”

“Confusing,” Sebastian cut in, rubbing his temples. “I know.”

Lewis leaned back in his chair, watching him. “Alright, walk me through it. What’s actually happened?”

Sebastian hesitated. “We almost kissed.”

Lewis choked on his drink. “You what?”

“It wasn’t planned,” Sebastian said quickly, cheeks flushing. “It just— happened. Or almost happened. Jenson rang Mark breaking the moment before it could.”

Lewis stared at him for a long moment before sighing, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Of course he did.”

Sebastian groaned softly. “It’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny,” Lewis said, holding up a hand. Then, more gently, “Look, Seb. You’ve got two people you’re connected to — one through words, one through what’s right in front of you. Maybe they’re showing you the same thing.”

Sebastian frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Maybe it’s not about choosing between them,” Lewis said. “Maybe it’s about realising they bring out the same part of you. The part that wants to trust again.”

Sebastian was quiet for a long time. The wind tugged at his hair; below, the sea shimmered under the fading light.

“I just don’t want to hurt anyone,” he murmured. “Halo means a lot to me. But Mark—” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I can’t stop thinking about him.”

Lewis reached across the table, squeezing his arm. “Maybe the universe’s trying to tell you something. You just haven’t put the pieces together yet.”

Sebastian looked up, puzzled, but Lewis only smiled knowingly.

“Don’t overthink it, mate,” he said, standing. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

When Lewis left, Sebastian stayed out on the balcony long after the stars appeared. His phone buzzed once.

Halo: Missed you today.

Sebastian’s breath caught. His reply came without thinking.

Midnight: I missed you too. More than I should.

And somewhere, not far away, Mark sat in his own apartment, staring at the same words on his screen, his heart racing for all the same reasons.

—

As the summer continued, Sebastian let himself breathe. Or he tried to. But even in the stillness, he was restless.

He spent his mornings cycling up into the hills, the afternoons in cafés with books he barely read, and the nights staring at his phone. Always waiting. Always hoping.

He’d been trying to vanish from his own thoughts too, though that was harder. Halo still filled his phone screen most nights, words glowing faintly in the dark. Their chats had steadied again after the rough weeks of silence, but Sebastian found himself rereading messages, overanalysing turns of phrase, chasing familiarity he was beginning to see in the wrong places.

But now his thoughts included someone else. Someone taking up a lot of space in his mind. He thought about what Lewis told him. Maybe the universe is trying to tell him something.

The sting of being stood up in Monaco had faded into something softer after Halo’s apology—something Sebastian couldn’t name, equal parts longing and caution. Still, the words on the screen made him feel seen in a way nothing else did.

That evening, sitting cross-legged on his apartment balcony with the sky bleeding pink into the harbour, a message appeared.

Halo: Midnight. I’ve been thinking.

Halo: About what we said before. Meeting.

Halo: I don’t want to waste any more time.

Sebastian’s pulse picked up. He chewed his lip before replying.

Midnight: You’re sure? We tried once already.

Halo: I know. I won’t mess it up this time.

Halo: Let’s pick a place. Neutral. Public. Easy.

Sebastian hesitated. The thought of putting a face to Halo—the real face—made his stomach knot with fear and excitement.

Midnight: There’s a small park near the marina. Saturday, 4 pm?

The typing dots appeared, vanished, then reappeared.

Halo: Perfect. I’ll be there.

Sebastian set the phone down slowly. He leaned back against the chair, staring out at the twinkling harbour. He should have felt only relief, but instead his chest felt tight, conflicted.

Because every time he thought of Halo, lately, Mark’s voice came unbidden. The way he’d sat with him in Hungary, steady and quiet. The words he’d used after the race—so like Halo’s it made Sebastian’s chest ache. He’d admired Mark for years, though he’d buried it under rivalry and sharpness. Now those feelings pressed at the surface, confusing and relentless.

And Mark—he had been different since Hungary. All the times they’ve met since the summer break began. Softer in some moments, strangely steady in others. Sebastian caught himself noticing, lingering on details: the crinkle at the corners of Mark’s eyes when he smirked, the warmth in his tone when he spoke without the sharpness of competition. Sebastian told himself it was friendship, long overdue. But in the quiet, he admitted it was more.

Two days later, it was a sun-struck afternoon that Sebastian ducked into a little café near the marina, one he liked for its chipped tables and strong espresso. Lewis was late—no surprise—so Sebastian ordered for both of them and took a seat by the window, watching the gulls wheel above the water.

The door chimed. Except it wasn’t Lewis who stepped inside.

Mark.

Sebastian blinked, straightening instinctively. Mark scanned the café, spotted him, and for a heartbeat looked as startled as Sebastian felt. But then he crossed the room, easy in his stride, though his jaw was set tighter than usual.

“Mind if I sit?” Mark asked. His voice was casual, but there was something under it.

Sebastian hesitated, then nodded. Confused, but glad to see him all the same. “Sure.”

Mark slid into the chair opposite, resting his forearms on the table. For a moment, neither spoke. Sebastian fiddled with the edge of his napkin, waiting for the usual light jab or comment about the weather. Instead, Mark leaned forward slightly, eyes locked on his.

“Seb, there’s something I need to tell you,” he said, low, steady.

Sebastian blinked again. “Okay…?”

Mark’s lips pressed together before he spoke, as though weighing every word. “I don’t know how to say this without making a mess of it. But—Seb, I care about you. More than I should, maybe. More than I’ve let on. And I don’t want to keep pretending I don’t.”

The words dropped between them like stones into still water. Sebastian’s breath caught. He stared at Mark, heart thudding hard against his ribs.

“You… what?” he whispered.

Mark gave a short, rough laugh, almost at himself. “See? A mess. But it’s the truth. I’ve been fighting it for too long. I like you. Hell, I think I’m falling for you. And I couldn’t keep quiet anymore.”

“These past few days we’ve spent together have been few of the best days I’ve had in years. Sebastian’s throat felt tight. He searched Mark’s face, looking for the telltale flicker of a joke, a cruel twist. But all he saw was sincerity, raw and unshielded.

Something inside Sebastian cracked open, aching and warm all at once. “Mark, I—” His voice broke. He swallowed, tried again. “I think I feel the same. I’ve… admired you, more than I should, for a long time. Maybe even liked you, in ways I didn’t understand back then.”

Mark’s shoulders eased, the faintest relief passing across his face. But before Sebastian could let the words sit fully, the heaviness of the truth returned. He curled his hands together on the table, gaze dropping.

“But,” he whispered, “I can’t let go of him.”

Mark stiffened. “Him?”

Sebastian’s voice was almost inaudible. “There’s is someone, before this, whatever this is between us. Someone I’ve talked with online, Halo. We’ve been talking for months now.”

It felt dangerous to say the name aloud, like he’d broken a spell. But it was the truth, sharp and unshakable. “He’s been there through everything. When I couldn’t talk to anyone else. When I felt… alone. He understands me in ways no one else does. I—” Sebastian’s breath trembled. “I can’t just forget him. Even if I feel this, with you.”

The silence that followed was thick, stretching taut between them.

Mark looked away first, jaw tightening. He rubbed a hand across his mouth, then leaned back in his chair. “Right. Of course.”

“Mark,” Sebastian said quickly, desperate. “It’s not that I don’t—what you said, what I feel—it’s real. I just… I can’t untangle it yet.”

Mark’s eyes flicked back to his, pained but softer now. He gave a small nod. “I get it. I do.” His voice roughened. “I just needed you to know.”

Sebastian reached across the table, hesitated, then rested his hand lightly over Mark’s wrist. “I’m glad you told me.”

Mark looked at their hands, then at Sebastian. For a moment, there was something like longing in his gaze, so open it made Sebastian’s chest ache. But he didn’t move, didn’t push. He only exhaled slowly and pulled his hand back.

“I’ll let you think,” he said quietly. “That’s enough for now.”

Before Sebastian could answer, the café door chimed again. Lewis breezed in, sunglasses perched on his head, already grinning. “Oi, you started without me? I was—oh. Mark.”

Sebastian jerked back in his chair, heart racing, while Mark stood smoothly, masking whatever had just passed between them.

“Yeah, I’ll leave you to it,” Mark said, clapping Sebastian lightly on the shoulder as he stepped away. “See you around, Seb.”

And then he was gone, leaving the air heavy with words Sebastian couldn’t stop replaying.

Lewis dropped into the seat opposite, eyeing him curiously. “Alright spill. What was that about?”

Sebastian shook his head quickly, staring down at the untouched espresso. “Nothing,” he lied, though his pulse was still pounding.

But in the quiet corners of his heart, he knew it was everything.

—

The park in Monaco was quieter than usual that Saturday. August heat had driven most locals to shaded terraces or the coast, leaving the stone paths dappled with sunlight and the occasional murmur of tourists passing through. A fountain gurgled at the center, and the air carried the faint scent of sea salt drifting in from the harbour.

Sebastian arrived early. He always did. His nerves wouldn’t let him be late.

He sat on a bench near the fountain, his hands curled tight around his phone, watching as families wandered past and dogs tugged at their leashes. He’d told himself this was just another meeting. Just another plan. He’d already forgiven Halo for the first time he hadn’t shown up. This would be different. It had to be.

He tapped the side of his phone anxiously. Their last exchange still glowed on the screen:

Midnight: There’s a small park near the marina. Saturday, 4 pm?

Halo: Perfect. I’ll be there.

Sebastian drew in a shaky breath, trying to steady himself. He wasn’t sure what he wanted more—that Halo would be exactly who he imagined, or that he wouldn’t.

The minutes stretched. His chest tightened with every passing second. His leg bounced restlessly. Please don’t stand me up again, he thought. Please don’t do this again.

Then he heard it.

“Shadow! Slow down!”

The voice—familiar, low, unmistakable—cut through the air.

Sebastian’s head snapped up.

On the path ahead, a tall figure strode into view, a German Shepherd at his side straining at the leash.

Mark Webber.

The world seemed to tilt, the edges blurring. Sebastian’s breath caught, his body frozen as Mark tugged lightly on the leash, muttering, “Come on, Shadow, behave.”

Shadow barked once, happily, tail wagging.

Sebastian’s heart pounded. His throat went dry.

It couldn’t be. And yet—of course it was. Every late-night message, every familiar phrase, every strange sense of déjà vu. All of it crashed together in his chest like a wave.

Mark glanced up then, eyes catching on him. For a fraction of a second, his stride faltered. He hesitated, lips pressing together, but then he kept walking, his expression unreadable.

Sebastian rose slowly from the bench, his knees unsteady. “It’s you,” he whispered, almost to himself.

Mark stopped a few feet away, Shadow sniffing curiously at the grass. His gaze held Sebastian’s, guarded but unflinching. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “It’s me.”

The words lodged in Sebastian’s chest, tangled with disbelief and something dangerously close to relief.

“You’re… Halo.”

Mark gave a small, rueful nod. “Guilty.”

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the splash of the fountain and Shadow’s panting. Sebastian’s fingers twitched at his sides, torn between anger and joy, between betrayal and the strange, undeniable rightness of it all.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sebastian asked at last, his voice trembling.

Mark exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Because I was an idiot. I didn’t expect it to be you, Seb. Not at first. I went to the restaurant that night in Monaco, saw you sitting there waiting, and I panicked. I thought… if you knew, you’d never forgive me. Not after everything between us.”

Sebastian swallowed hard, his chest aching. “You left me there. I thought—” His voice broke. He looked away, blinking fast. “I thought I wasn’t worth showing up for.”

Mark’s face softened, regret stark in his eyes. “Seb, no. God, no. That’s not it at all. You’ve always been worth showing up for. I just didn’t know how to… bridge the two halves of it. Halo and me. Us, online and… and in person.”

Sebastian looked back at him, torn wide open. “Do you have any idea how much I hoped it would be you? Even when I told myself it was impossible? That I was a fool for even thinking it?”

Mark’s breath hitched, surprise flickering across his face. “You… hoped?”

“Yes,” Sebastian said, voice raw. “Even when you drove me mad in the garage, even when we fought—I still… I wanted it to be you.”

The words cracked the last barrier between them. Mark stepped closer, Shadow padding obediently at his side now. His eyes searched Sebastian’s, cautious but burning with something Sebastian had only ever glimpsed in fragments.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” Mark murmured. “But I’m here now. No more hiding.”

Sebastian’s throat tightened. He took a shaky step forward, close enough to catch the faint salt of sweat on Mark’s skin, the warmth radiating off him. His voice was barely a whisper.

“Then don’t leave again.”

Mark’s hand lifted, hesitated, then cupped the side of Sebastian’s face, rough thumb brushing against his cheek. For a heartbeat, the world held still. And then Sebastian leaned into the touch, eyes closing as the space between them vanished.

Their lips met, tentative at first, then deeper as relief and longing poured through every nerve. It wasn’t perfect—nothing about their path had been—but it was real. Finally, fully real.

When they pulled back, Sebastian’s eyes shimmered, his breath uneven. Mark rested his forehead lightly against his, voice low.

“Have you met Shadow?” he said with a small, unsteady smile. “He’s part of the deal.”

Sebastian laughed through the tears that threatened, crouching briefly to scratch behind the dog’s ears. Shadow leaned into his hand immediately, tail thumping the ground.

Sebastian looked up at Mark, still smiling, still breathless. “I think I can live with that.”

And for the first time in weeks, months even, the knot in his chest loosened. He wasn’t Midnight staring at a glowing screen anymore, and Mark wasn’t just Halo behind a name. They were here, in the sunlit park, no masks, no pretense.

Together.

—

Epilogue

The flat smelled faintly of coffee and dog shampoo. Afternoon light spilled across the balcony, painting the tiles gold and catching on the glass of wine left half-finished on the table outside. Sebastian sat cross-legged on the rug inside, Shadow sprawled belly-up beside him, paws twitching in canine bliss as Sebastian rubbed slow circles into his fur.

“You’ve completely ruined him,” Mark’s voice drawled from the kitchen. “I used to be in charge. Now I’m just the guy who fills the food bowl.”

Sebastian glanced up, lips curving. Mark leaned against the counter, arms folded, watching with that unguarded fondness he never used to let show in public. His hair was damp from the shower, a soft curl falling over his forehead.

“You were never in charge,” Sebastian teased, scratching under Shadow’s chin. The dog thumped his tail against the rug in agreement. “Shadow has always been the boss.”

Mark snorted but didn’t argue. He padded across the room and dropped down on the rug beside them, knees brushing Sebastian’s. Shadow immediately rolled to face him, stretching one paw as if to claim both of them at once.

It was easy like this, easier than Sebastian ever thought it could be. No late-night messages wondering who was on the other side. No guarded glances across the garage, wondering if the tension was rivalry or something unnamed. Just—quiet, unremarkable moments that felt extraordinary because they were theirs.

Mark leaned back on his hands, studying Sebastian. “Still feels strange, doesn’t it?”

“What does?” Sebastian asked.

“This.” Mark’s hand gestured vaguely between them. “Us. Out in the open. No more Midnight, no more Halo. Just you and me. Like it should’ve been all along.”

Sebastian’s throat tightened, but he smiled softly. “Strange in a good way.”

Mark reached out, brushed his thumb lightly across Sebastian’s jaw in a gesture that still made his stomach flip. “Yeah. In a good way.”

For a long moment, neither moved. The sun dipped lower, casting everything in amber. Shadow sighed, content. Sebastian felt a weight inside him ease—years of rivalry, secrecy, stubbornness—melting away until there was nothing left but this quiet certainty.

They met Lewis and Jenson for dinner the next weekend, in a tucked-away bistro near Port Hercule. The kind of place where the waiters knew them well enough not to fuss, and the tables were spaced just far enough apart to give the illusion of privacy.

Lewis was already seated when they arrived, sunglasses perched in his curls even though the sun had long set. Jenson nursed a glass of red wine, grinning like he’d been waiting for the punchline of a joke.

“Well, well, look who finally decided to show up together,” Jenson said as they slid into the booth. “I’ll admit, I had money on this happening sooner, but late’s better than never.”

Lewis tilted his head, studying them with amused suspicion. “So it’s true then? You two are…” He gestured vaguely, the corners of his mouth twitching. “An item?”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, though his cheeks warmed. “We’re not a tabloid headline, Lewis. But yes.”

Mark smirked, reaching for the menu like it was nothing, but Sebastian caught the faint flush at the tips of his ears.

“Oh, no, no, no.” Jenson leaned forward, eyes sparkling. “You don’t get off that easy. We want the story. The whole story. How does the most famously stubborn rivalry in the paddock turn into…” He flicked his fingers between them, grinning. “…whatever this is?”

Sebastian and Mark exchanged a glance. Sebastian’s lips twitched first. “Do you really want to know?”

“Obviously,” Lewis said flatly.

Mark leaned back, smug. “We spent months messaging, talking about, life, everything. Neither of us realising who was on the other end.”

Lewis’s jaw actually dropped. “No way. No bloody way. You’re telling me—” He turned to Sebastian, pointing accusingly. “You didn’t figure it out? You? The guy who notices if a wheel nut is angled wrong?”

Sebastian flushed, spluttering. “It wasn’t that obvious!”

“Oh, it was obvious,” Jenson said, grinning so wide it hurt. “I remember those threads. The way you two bickered? The flirting so badly disguised as arguing? Christ, we should’ve bet money back then.”

Mark cleared his throat, mock-glowering. “It wasn’t flirting.”

Lewis barked a laugh. “Mate, if that wasn’t flirting, I don’t know what is.”

Sebastian tried to glare but failed, his lips curving. He reached for his wine, muttering, “Anyway. We figured it out. Eventually.”

“Eventually?” Jenson echoed, eyes dancing. “How long did you keep him waiting, Webber?”

Mark groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Don’t start.”

But Sebastian leaned into his shoulder just slightly, eyes soft. “Longer than he should have. But he made it in the end.”

The table went quiet for a heartbeat, something warmer settling under the teasing. Jenson’s grin softened. Lewis studied them, then smiled slowly, nodding once like he was giving his blessing.

“About bloody time,” he said.

The rest of the night blurred into laughter and stories—Shadow trying to steal scraps of food from the table. Every so often, Mark’s knee pressed against Sebastian’s under the table, grounding him in a way words couldn’t.

When they left, strolling along the harbour with the lights glittering across the water, Shadow trotting happily between them, Sebastian glanced sideways at Mark.

“You realise,” he murmured, “we’re never going to live down that story.”

Mark smirked, slipping his hand into Sebastian’s with practiced ease. “Good. I want everyone to know.” Mark took his face in his hands and kissed him deeply.

Sebastian laughed, breathless, his heart full in a way it hadn’t been in years. He wrapped his arms around Mark’s shoulders, getting up on his toes and hugged him, holding him tightly. Not wanting to let go.

For once, there were no masks, no names, no walls. Just Sebastian and Mark. Just Midnight and Halo, side by side.

And for Sebastian, that was everything.