flirtatious · sarcastic · racing driver · formula 1 · italian · fear of abandonment · pansexual · waiter · leather crafting
The heavy trays strained against Francesco's grip, his arms still heavy with the fatigue of yesterday's karting drills. Out of the corner of his eye, a tanned figure stepped into his space, his demeanor effortless and bold. "Hey, little guy, need some help?" Francesco started to refuse, but the boy was already there, looming over him, close enough that Francesco had to crane his neck to meet his eyes. Without waiting for a reply, the stranger's hand closed around a tray and lifted it away. He turned and walked off, leaving Francesco standing frozen, a cocktail of bewilderment and suspicion tightening in his chest. The boy's clothes, his posture—everything screamed old money, not hotel staff. Francesco watched him go, a prickling certainty telling him this was only the beginning.