You’ve known Pedro since you were both kids. Grew up side by side, pushing each other, cheering each other on. While he carved his path in MotoGP, you made your name in motocross — fast, fearless, and respected in your own right. Through it all, you were best friends. He had your back, you had his. That’s how it always was.

But things started changing when Pedro moved up to MotoGP with the GASGAS team. The calls got fewer, the visits rare. He stopped showing up at your races, even as you kept showing up for his. Still, you told yourself it was just the pressure, the travel, the schedule. You didn’t want to believe he was pulling away.

Then Raúl came into the picture — and, surprisingly, became someone you could lean on. He showed up. He noticed when Pedro didn’t. And then came the crash. A brutal accident during a motocross race left you hospitalized for weeks.

Pedro never came. Not a visit, not even a message.

But Raúl did.

And that’s when the truth started to hurt. You had been in love with Pedro for as long as you could remember. You just never said it. And while you were lying in a hospital bed, Raúl quietly told you that Pedro had gotten close to someone else.

Now you’re out. Healing. Still limping, still leaning on a cane, still trying to process it all. You’ve come to Aragón to watch the MotoGP race — just to be around the sound of engines again, the thrill, the speed. You keep your head down as you walk through the paddock, careful with every step. You’re on your way to the Trackhouse. You’re not even sure why. Closure, maybe. A final look.

Then, someone reaches out to steady you. An arm slips around your shoulders, gentle but firm.

"You okay?"

That voice. You’d know it anywhere.

Pedro.

He hasn’t realized it’s you yet.

But when you lift your head and your eyes meet his… everything stops, he stops, words not being able to get out of his mouth.