Archive of Our Own ^beta

Lance sat in front of the fireplace, the golden flames licking the stone of the chimney and the heat radiating off burning his face.

An open wooden box, beautifully carved from the finest walnut wood, sat open next to him, sheets of paper, delicately folded to fit, were scattered about the floor.

I saved every letter you wrote me,

From the moment I read them I knew you were mine,

You said you were mine, I thought you were mine.

Lance stared into the flames, watching them dance and play within the grate. He picked up the letter at the very bottom of the box.

Do you know what Sergey said, when we saw your first letter arrive?

He said, “Be careful with that one love, he will do what it takes to survive.”

Lance caressed the letter, the paper was as pristine as it was May 22nd, at 4:23 in the afternoon when he took it out of the envelope.

You and words flooded my senses,

Your sentences left me defenceless

You built me palaces out of paragraphs,

You built cathedrals.

Lance brought the letter up to eye level, reading over the lines, handwritten in blue biro. Words he had read over and over again suddenly felt unfamiliar, alien. Like he didn’t know the meaning, the context.

Like he didn’t know the writer.

I'm re-reading the letters you wrote me,

I'm searching and scanning for answers in every line

For some kind of sign

Of when you were mine

The fire crackled and Lance placed the letter on the ground. He picked up the box and tipped the rest of the letters out.

The world seemed to burn

Burn

His hands gripped the pamphlet Sergio had shown him that morning when he walked in. The Mexican’s eyes were hard, but full of sorrow as Lance read the account his fiancé had written.

In a few sentences, his entire world had crumbled.

You published the letters he wrote you

You told the whole world

How you brought Pierre into our bed

In clearing your name, you have ruined our lives

Sergio had comforted Lance, and had taken him to the Mexican’s driver’s room before the press could grab hold of him.

Lance re-read the pamphlet over and over, eyes lingering on each word, tears dripping from his cheeks and staining the paper.

He wiped his tears from his face, his expression set in stone and headed out to his pre-race interviews. Looking at his engagement ring, he slipped it off and placed it in his pocket.

Do you know what Sergey said

When he read what you'd done?

He said, "You'll marry an Icarus,

He has flown too close to the sun."

Unexpectedly, the affair wasn’t mentioned, but no-one missed Pierre’s uncomfortable expression when Lance had entered the room with an expression that could rival Kimi Raikkonen’s.

The Frenchman had shifted in his seat, biting his lip. He had tried to ignore the glares Valtteri and Daniel sent his way.

They had read the pamphlet, and were ready to strike out at Pierre should he add more fuel to the fire.

You and your words, obsessed with your legacy...

Your sentences border on senseless

And you are paranoid in every paragraph

How they perceive you-

Tears spilt down Lance’s face as he read through the opening passage, angrily gripping the paper.

A spark jumped out of the grate and Lance snapped his head back to the flames, the fire mirroring the inferno in his heart.

The door opened and Lance’s glare hardened.

You, you, you-

Esteban stopped when he saw his fiancé sitting in front of the old fireplace, a fire blazing in the hearth. Lance was holding a copy of his pamphlet.

His heart dropped.

"Lance-"

Lance threw the pamphlet into the fire.

Esteban gulped.

"Lance, I-"

"I'm erasing myself from the narrative "

Lance picked up one of the letters- the first one Esteban had sent- and held it up to eye level.

"Let future historians wonder

How Lance reacted when you broke his heart "

Esteban was glued to the floor, fear shining in his eyes.

"Lance, please-"

“You have torn it all apart- ”

Lance ripped the letter in two.

"I'm watching it

Burn

Watching it

Burn ."

The Canadian grabbed another letter.

"The world has no right to my heart-"

Rip.

"The world has no place in our bed-"

Rip.

"They don't get to know what I said- "

Rip.

"I'm burning the memories. "

Rip.

Esteban felt tears run down his cheeks.

"Burning the letters-" 

Lance threw another letter into the fire, the flames eating it up, eating his pain.

"That might have redeemed you. "

Another letter in the blaze.

"You forfeit all rights to my heart. "

Only a few letters were left. Lance reached for another paper.

"You forfeit the place in our bed. "

Esteban inhaled deeply as Lance the last letter into the flare.

"You sleep in your office instead! "

Lance screamed, finally turning around to knowledge Esteban.

"With only the memories

Of when you were mine."

Esteban followed Lance’s eyes towards the photo of them.

Realisation hit him.

“Lance, wait, please-”

Lance pulled the frame off the wall and ripped out the photo.

He glanced at it one last time.

"I hope that you-"

He threw it into the fire, ignoring Esteban’s screams and pleas.

"Burn. "