LDR Ch 53

Would these words even reach you? He couldn’t know. Some things just happen without a grand reason. But Harrison is not a person accustomed to that. His world is a place of disassembly, analysis, development, and overcoming.

He wanted Harrison to understand that meaning. If it could be a comfort. And he wanted him not to understand. Hoping that from now on, there would be no incomprehensible things, no things beyond his control, in his life.

“Harry, you said you’d live well so I wouldn’t worry about you.”

After a silence, Harrison replied to his words.

[Yeah.]

Leo uttered the words he should have said long ago, the words that were far too late.

“Even if you hadn’t said that, I wouldn’t have worried about you.”

Harrison is not a person who gets buried in the past. He was trained that way. In strategy analyses by outsiders, they repeatedly hypothesize what would have happened if things had been different then, if they had used a different strategy then. But in an internal debriefing, that’s not what’s important. Ruminating on the past changes nothing, so they simply perform post-processing to prevent recurrence and move on to the next thing. Harrison had embodied that logic.

And yet, you went against the past, again and again and again, until you finally had to think all the way back to that first meeting when you were just six years old. Even though you’re not that kind of person.

“I know you’ll do well on your own.”

Leo often thought about the things he hadn’t done. When he thought of their infrequent contact, he would think he should have backed up their conversations. Back then, he thought he could always get the words ‘I love you,’ the silly conversations, the silences shared only between them.

He wished he had left something behind. They say memories and anecdotes last a lifetime, but they are forgotten more quickly than you’d think. The same goes for the marks left on the body. So he wished he had left something that wouldn’t disappear even with time. So he could at least feel a trace.

And, he should have told him. That he had never once regretted it.

“So you, too, don’t think about me, don’t worry about me, just do whatever you want to do, whatever that may be, and live like that.”

Even though it wasn’t always happy, it was never unhappy. I should have said more good things. More than the words of dislike, more than the words of blame, I should have said more of the good things. And yet, what comes to mind now is how much I blamed him, why I never said the really good things, why I thought he already knew all those words. Things like that.

“I really don’t worry about you. I never have. Because I knew from the beginning that you were a person with a strong core.”

Why couldn’t I tell you that I already knew what kind of person you were?

“I always believe in you.”

He had said ‘I love you’ many times. Because that’s what lovers do. But he couldn’t even remember the last time he had said ‘I believe in you.’ In fact, it seemed he had said ‘I don’t believe you’ more often. Even though he didn’t really think that.

“But while I was dating you, even though I said I love you, I don’t think I was able to say that I believe in you nearly enough.”

[I still only make you cry.]

At the voice that suddenly came, he couldn’t say anything. He could have said he wasn’t crying. That he hadn’t cried once since they broke up. But he couldn’t say a single word. Because if he opened his mouth, the words he had held back would come out. The words, ‘I miss you.’

I miss you. He wanted to say that. I was wrong when I said we shouldn’t see each other for a while after we broke up. Let’s just see each other’s faces for a little while, even if it’s just occasionally. If meeting makes you anxious, we can just keep in touch. He wanted to say that.

When we met with our families, I didn’t want to just let you go like that; I wanted to talk more, just the two of us. The day we met with Lorenzo, I wanted to go for a walk with you alone. I want to call you every day. I want to reply to the messages you left. I want to hear your voice. I miss you.

I miss you.

The only thing he wanted to say was that one phrase. Since it had been over a year, he thought he would be able to say that much. It’s not a difficult thing to say. It’s not an awkward thing to say. It’s not a phrase with a deep meaning. It’s a casual thing you can say even when you meet a classmate you haven’t kept in touch with after a long time.

And yet, he couldn’t say it. Because they both knew all too well that the meaning of the simple and light words was, in fact, neither simple nor light.

Through the phones, only a slight sense of presence could be felt, and for a long time, no words were exchanged. And yet, it was impossible not to know that they were both listening intently to that small, fragile presence.

“Have a good vacation.”

At the words that finally came out, the other person replied as well.

[Yeah.]

And the call ended.

After returning home, he took off his watch. Now he could live in a single time zone, without needing to check the time in another country. And he cried a little. Or maybe a lot. That was what was strange. When he cried, there had always been someone to comfort him. Crying alone was, really, something he hadn’t done in a very long time.

Now he had to admit it. The reason he hadn’t cried until now was because he hadn’t wanted to realize that there was truly no one left to comfort him. And at the same time, he had a premonition. That for a while to come, he would be crying often.

The time difference was particularly great.

Hungarian Grand Prix

Hungaroring

He cried often. But he didn’t always cry. Then, after about a month, he felt it was unfair to be crying. After about a month and a half, he felt belatedly embarrassed. And by the time two months had passed, he went around looking for everything that could trigger a memory, as if he were deliberately seeking opportunities to cry. After about three months, he didn’t cry.

And he slowly started to get in touch. He didn’t call yet. He just texted from time to time. The other day, they had each turned on their televisions and watched a soccer match. One of them didn’t know that a soccer match was 90 minutes long, and the other didn’t know there were 11 players on a team, so only question marks were exchanged throughout the text conversation, but they did that.

Now, he didn’t completely block out the news he heard. He heard that while the other teams were on a similar pace, one team was overwhelmingly dominant. Because that team’s two drivers always finished first and second, Harrison, even when he managed to get on the podium, was on the lowest step, and even that wasn’t possible every time.

That’s not to say he went to watch the races in person, and he couldn’t go to Silverstone because of work, but he did leave a few congratulatory texts.

And so time flowed on and on, and before long, the time came. The time to slowly face each other. It had been over a year and a half since they broke up, and Adam and Finn, who couldn’t understand it at all at first, were gradually coming to accept the situation where they couldn’t see Leo and Harrison together. That weighed on his mind more, so he decided to time his vacation to match Harrison’s summer vacation, which would begin after this Hungaroring race.

They decided to spend it in the UK to let the brothers all meet together after a long time, but there would be no time to ask each other how they were doing or talk separately. So there was nothing to be particularly concerned about, but still, he wanted to see him in person at least once beforehand. Perhaps he needed confirmation. Or perhaps he simply wanted to see him.

He doesn’t know why he chose the Hungaroring of all places. He had just read an article. It was about Harrison, and there was nothing special about it. But one expression caught his eye. A preserved flame. That was how the reporter described Harrison. A flame is bound to die down someday. And yet, he was a driver who would be preserved and burn unchangingly forever.

Staring blankly at the contradictory combination of words, Leo suddenly thought. He had to go see him. And if he were really to go, it had to be the Hungaroring.

He hadn’t sat in these spectator seats once since he was six years old. He had been to other spectator stands a few times since, but this place, in particular, he had always watched the race from somewhere other than the stands. And he suddenly looked around. You were next to me then.

As he quietly looked down, the cars that had completed the formation lap lined up on the grid one by one. And the lights on the signal turned on, one by one, and then went out.

Harrison, who had been in third place, moved up to second at the start, and the driver who was originally in second had a bad start and dropped to fifth in an instant.

At the dramatic change, the fans stood up and shouted. But since there was a big difference in car performance from the start, the driver who had dropped to fifth steadily overtook the cars ahead of him and was soon right behind Harrison.

Harrison let the car pass without much of a fight. It was strange, and yet, not strange. Other people think Harrison is crazy with competitiveness, but that wasn’t really the case. He has an impression of fighting without looking ahead or behind, but Harrison knows who he needs to fight.

There were a few overtakes in the mid-to-lower pack, but in the top tier where Harrison was, the rankings seemed to have stabilized, and there were no changes at all. And so, after all the drivers had completed their final pit stops, it wasn’t long before the driver behind Harrison closed in on him.

The previously dull spectator stands stirred. The big screen showed Harrison and the driver behind him. He wasn’t listening to commentary like before, nor was he listening to the team radio. The lack of information, having to rely solely on sight, should have created a sense of powerlessness and anxiety, but in reality, it didn’t. Because he knew even without it. Who would be the one to stand on that podium.

Harrison is strong under pressure. He doesn’t make mistakes at important moments. On top of that, his competitor had used up his tires trying to block a driver who was trying to overtake him earlier. In contrast, Harrison had just let him pass, so his tires were in better condition. Just as he predicted, the driver behind him tried to overtake for a few laps before falling back again.

And the final lap. The driver closed in on Harrison again. On the long straight, he got closer and closer to Harrison, narrowing the gap. But blocked by Harrison, who had taken the inside line first, the driver had to fall back.

Then another straight came, and the gap between the cars rapidly decreased again. It was a corner where he had been aiming for an overtake from before. From here on, there were corners where the friction of the tires was particularly important. Harrison had saved his tires for this, and as calculated, he exited the corners smoothly. There were no real overtaking sections left now, but since it was the final lap, it was clear he would use every opportunity to try and overtake regardless.

But until the very end, Harrison defended his position.

The checkered flag waved, and the cars crossed the finish line at high speed. The spectators, dressed in colorful team uniforms, cheered, despaired, and shouted names from all over, waving flags and banners. The drivers waved to the spectators.

That somewhat fanatical atmosphere is the greatest driving force of racing. Being a driver was good. The luxury of getting into the car and enjoying a small space all to himself held an irrational allure. The paddock was good too. There was the stimulation of being closer with inside information. But he had never felt this much love and passion. The kind he never wanted to feel again.

As the drivers up to third place parked in their pre-determined spots and got out, the cheers grew louder. Every time the first and second place drivers gave a brief interview, shouts of joy could be heard. And finally, the people chanted Harrison’s name. It felt like he would be buried in their voices.

— Harry, congratulations on the podium. It was an incredible race until the very end, how did you feel?

At that question, Harrison first lifted his head and looked at the spectator stands. His face, filling the big screen, was exactly the same.

It would be nice if I could say I don’t love you anymore. It would be nice if I could say the you I loved has changed. It would be nice if I could say I’m tired of the things that haven’t changed. It would be nice if it wasn’t that I love both what has changed and what remains. Meaningless thoughts filled his mind for a moment, then disappeared.

— It seems like it was a tricky fight until the end. Still, the tire management was good, so that was an advantage. The car in front was also far away, so I could run clean, which was also in my favor. I’m grateful to all the team members who worked hard and the fans who cheered for me.

On the wrist holding the microphone, a watch from a familiar brand shone. The time within it circles the same place forever. Continuing on without ever leaving for anywhere.

— The Hungaroring is always a special place for me because it’s where I first saw a Grand Prix in person. When I come here, I always remember the moment I was first in this place.

At those words, the cheers from the audience grew louder. Harrison smiled and waved at the spectators. Everything was the same. The way the corners of his mouth turned up when he smiled, the way he furrowed his brow when the sun was bright, his straight nose, his low voice, the way his eye color seemed to deepen slightly after a race, the words he would resolutely speak even knowing they wouldn’t reach.

— To be able to meet the fans in a place like this and stand on the podium is a truly rare thing. Thank you.

With those words, Harrison entered the cool-down room. Inside, projected onto the big screen, Harrison took off his hat and wiped his face with a towel. And as he sat down and talked with the other driver who was already there, a faint, ordinary, and everyday fatigue settled on his features.

Even if it is preserved, a flame cannot burn forever. In an enclosed space, a flame is bound to die down. After consuming all the remaining oxygen, wearing down and down, until everything melts in the heat and is left as ashes. But even that cannot suppress the illusion that one can defy such laws of nature.

Before long, the podium was ready, and Harrison, in third place, was the first to step onto the platform. After all the other drivers had also come up onto the platform, the big screen showed the team members below. Familiar faces appeared within it. A group of ABW team members looked up at their driver. Perhaps, they looked up to him. Smiling, moved.

Because he’s that kind of driver. Because he’s the best driver a team could have. Because he delivers results in any situation. Because he does everything he can in that position. Because they have a driver like that.

He took in each and every one of those faces. A voice brushed past his ears for a moment. What kind of expression did you have when you said you wanted to quit?

In the background, the national anthem of the first-place driver played. Harrison bowed his head, touched his eyebrow once, pressed his hand to his chest for a moment, and then raised his head. Then he looked down again. At his team members looking at him. At all that expectation, aspiration, trust, and love, looking only at him.

Some love transcends the person.

Draped in a glorious shell over a human body of bone and flesh, with a face overlaid with passion, covered over with expectation, the human form that constituted the inside was not clearly visible. The love, piled up layer by layer, was too deep and heavy. So heavy, so very heavy, that it was impossible to resist the enormous gravity it formed. Not even he himself.

And the music ended.

After receiving their trophies, the drivers shook their champagne bottles. The foam that burst out in an instant scattered. Through the pressed, polished, and scattered debris, a smooth surface shone. The flame burned too hot to be held in a hand. Even if it itself wanted to be held in a hand, it was against its will. Resplendently.