Epilogue 2
A week after the season ends, Julien fusses with his bow tie in front of the hotel mirror. He wanted to use the clip-on, but Maman had said it would be too obvious.
The most obvious thing about it is the fact that Julien can’t tie a fucking bow tie.
“Let me.” Rafael steps in and straightens it as well as he can, but the stubborn thing still leans to the left. His own bow tie hangs perfectly in front of Julien, mocking him.
After a few more tugs, Rafael decides, “Let’s start over.”
“Are we sure I even need one?” Julien rubs his throat while he isn’t being choked. His neck is notably thicker than it was at the beginning of the season, and every collared shirt is torturous. “I have a regular tie as a back-up. I know how to do that one.”
“Unfortunately, they’re real sticklers for the rules around here.” Rafael turns Julien around and reaches over him, tying the stupid thing from his point of view. “You’re representing Ferraro—you should look your best.”
“You and Thomas did all the work. I don’t think I need to be there at all.”
“Do the math real quick and tell me if we would’ve won the Constructors’ Championship without your ninety-four points.”
It’s not a lot of math considering they only won by thirty-something points.
“Fine. But I’m not getting on the stage.”
“You sure are.”
Yeah, he probably will.
A stylist in the SUV futzes with their hair and bow ties as they navigate the winding streets of London and stop every twenty feet.
She’s nit-picky, but it makes Julien feel a little more confident that he won’t look like a complete idiot by the time they reach the venue.
“There’s no need to be nervous.” Rafael’s hand finds Julien’s leg. His reassuring squeeze fucks up the pleat that runs down the front of his trousers.
“I’m not nervous.”
When the car parks, Rafael gives Julien’s leg a final pat before his door opens. He exits with a grace Julien can’t exude, and the awaiting crowd cheers when they see him.
Rafael turns back to the car and offers Julien his hand. For a moment, the Frenchman considers batting it away. Maybe if he ducks, he can stay in the car and no one will notice.
Still, Julien can’t say no to his boyfriend. He takes the proffered hand. When he finally stumbles out of the vehicle, the crowd cheers impossibly louder for both of them together.
So far so good. They’re directed to stand in front of multiple walls, each branded with the award ceremony logo, the Formation 1 logo, and some charity they’re supposed to be supporting.
At the end, they’re corralled together with Sam, Fritz, and Thomas, who looks up with a dopey grin and snickers when he leans into his secret boyfriend.
Did he… pregame the award ceremony?
Fuck, that’s such a good idea. Maybe Sam has a flask on him.
All of the Formation 1 drivers inch closer and closer to the doors of the building until they can finally drop the fake smiles and find the champagne.
As the top three of the Drivers’ Championship, Thomas, Fritz, and Sam are put on display at a long white-draped table, while Julien and Rafael get to hide at the round Ferraro table with other important figures for the company.
A camera stays trained to the winners’ table as they pick at their food. Why would people want to watch them eat?!
Thank fuck that’ll never be Julien.
The awards span a bunch of different series, so it’s a long evening, but the racing highlights are interesting enough to keep Julien’s attention. He claps along at all of the appropriate places and picks at the food left in the center of the table.
Just as Julien sticks a chunk of bread in his mouth, he hears his name over the speakers. The rest of the table doesn’t stand, so there must be a different Julien in some other series.
“Julien Dubois? The camera found him, but I don’t think he heard me.”
That’s definitely his name. Julien looks up in horror as his bread-eating face plays over the giant screens next to the stage.
Rafael stops clapping to usher him up and push him toward the stage. “Go!”
Julien moves purely on instinct, swallowing as he slowly navigates through the round tables full of people. Below the video feed of his racing highlights is a title that reads “Rookie of the Year.”
Wait, Julien won an award? A personal one?
Oh fuck, they’re going to ask him to speak.
Julien jogs up the stairs and accepts the award and a handshake from the woman presenting it. She gestures to the microphone, and Julien goes where he’s directed.
Looking out over the sea of well-dressed people in the dark room, Julien doesn’t know what to do next.
“I don’t know if any of you noticed,” Julien says, nodding to the screen where his face was. “But I had no idea I was even considered for an award. I wouldn’t have eaten that bread if I knew.”
The audience laughs, which seems like a good thing? Well, there’s no stopping the train now—they’re expecting a speech.
“Um, it’s difficult to think of myself as a rookie, since I’ve been a reserve driver for several years now.” Julien looks down at the trophy, at his name engraved in the metal placard. “I thought I’d never get the chance to race—to prove I was anything more than Thomas’s little brother.”
Julien squints out into the dark, but he can’t see far enough to make out any familiar faces. “Um, so thank you Lorenzo, for taking me in, to Thomas, for vouching for me, for Rafael for—well, breaking your collarbone. Also everything after that.”
Is that insensitive to mention?
Too late.
“Um, yeah. I’m grateful I had the opportunity to race, but I’m even more excited to get back to the factory and work on next year’s car. Thank you for this, I’ll treasure it.”
Julien shows the trophy to the room and runs away, back to his seat, as people applaud.
“Why didn’t you think you’d win?!” Rafael asks with a laugh.
“I never considered myself a rookie!” Julien hisses, smacking him. “Did you know I won this? Why didn’t you tell me?!”
“I thought you knew! Isn’t that why you were nervous? Speeches are scary.”
“Surprise speeches are even worse!”
Oh God, Julien embarrassed himself in front of everybody, didn’t he? This whole farce is broadcast worldwide.
Rafael scoots his heavy chair closer and wraps an arm around Julien as the announcer starts working through the top three.
Sam’s speech is very “always the bridesmaid, never the bride.”
Fritz’s speech is dry, and he looks honestly confused when people laugh at his jokes.
Thomas tears up as he talks about the long, difficult road to becoming a champion. Julien even gets a nod in the acknowledgements, though seeing his brother get emotional makes him want to bully him.
When Thomas hoists the giant championship trophy, Rafael squeezes Julien in closer.
“That’s going to be me next year.”
“I know.”
And Julien will do everything he can to make it happen.