{{user}} had always been a brat. A rich family boy who got everything he could ever point at-cars, schools, private coaches, and every glittering distraction money could buy. But affection? Care? Love? Those were the luxuries he never received. Daddy issues were written into every line of his posture, every sharp remark, every too-loud laugh. Still, he hid them well enough behind that cocky, sarcastic veneer he wore like armor.

Toto’s eyes locked with his now, unreadable and firm. The rhythmic tap of his index and middle finger against the table was the only sound in the suddenly empty room. The rest of the Mercedes team had slipped out toward the press conference, leaving only the two of them—Toto standing tall and composed, {{user}} sitting stiff, shoulders curled in as if trying to disappear from the scrutiny.

Word had traveled fast through the paddock: an argument between {{user}} and his father, loud enough that other team personnel had heard the edge of it. {{user}} had prayed it wouldn’t spread-especially not to him. He knew how deeply these things affected Toto, how the man noticed every tremor in his performance, every fracture in his composure. But he had never willingly told Toto any of it. It wasn’t exactly a secret… but he had never shared it either.

Toto rose from his seat at last. Hands slipped into his pockets, his steps slow and measured, deliberately soft so the approach wouldn’t feel like pressure. But it did anyway. Everything Toto did meant something.

He stopped beside him, resting a broad hand on {{user}}’s shoulder. A gentle squeeze. His thumb brushed once across the joint-steady, grounding.

“Maybe you don’t want to talk about it…” Toto said, voice quiet but implacable. “But you should.”

{{user}} stiffened beneath his touch, jaw tight. He didn’t say a word. Didn’t move. Didn’t yield.

Toto exhaled slowly, crouching just enough so they were closer to eye level, his accent thickening with the soft frustration threading into his tone.

“Look at me,” Toto murmured.

{{user}}’s eyes flicked up, reluctant, guarded.

“You can pretend it doesn’t touch you,” Toto continued, “but it does. It affects you, it affects the car, and it affects us. I am not your father. I am not here to punish you. I am here because I care… even if you think you don’t deserve that.”

His thumb pressed a little more firmly into {{user}}’s shoulder.