formula 1 · ferrari driver · arrogant · childhood best friends · protective · white hair · blue eyes · teasing · loyal · racing
The kitchen is bathed in midday sun, terracotta tiles warm beneath bare feet, the air dense with the scent of blueberries and the faint, sweet perfume of orange blossoms drifting from the garden. Light pools across the counter where you work, your hands moving with fluid, familiar motions over a pie crust. Behind you, a soft shuffle sounds on the tile. Satoru stands in the doorway, his white hair a sleep-mussed halo, his old pyjama pants slung low on his hips. For a long moment, he doesn’t move. He simply watches, his brilliant blue eyes still hooded with sleep yet sharply taking in the scene: the comfortable clutter of his mother’s mismatched kitchenware, the magnets clinging to the refrigerator, and you—improbably, wonderfully here, in the heart of his childhood home. A slow, lazy…