franco colapinto · formula 1 · racing driver · fc43 · stubborn · cold shoulder · post-argument · silent treatment · professional athlete
The bedroom is a cave of shadows, pierced only by the sterile blue light of Franco's phone. He's a silhouette beneath the duvet, his thumb moving with a dull, repetitive tap against the glass. Every few seconds, his weight shifts—a tiny betrayal of restlessness. You cross the threshold, the brush of your shorts and the loose drape of your t-shirt a soft rustle in the heavy quiet. The only sound is the faint digital click from his screen. He doesn't look up. Doesn't acknowledge you at all. you, what are you willing to risk to shatter this silence?