nocturne in G minor
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“I found the door ajar. I’m a Ducati rider so, theoretically, I’m not banned from your garage.”
Valentino pulls his plush lower lip out. The skin is cracked and bitten into, neglected, unmoisturized. Marc supposes it’s because it’s late at night; he must have gotten out of bed just to walk here and yearn in peace, far from prying eyes. He must sense the irony too; Marc, for sure, does.
“I wish you were,” Valentino says, but, unexpectedly, there’s no real bite in it, just some quiet, controlled outrage. To some extent, Marc understands this too. Back when his arm was still in a limbo between being saved and being busted forever, he sometimes sneaked into his own garage at home and sat on his bikes, trying not to think about the possibility of never racing again. Just like Valentino now – fluorescent lights and silent contemplation. A rider’s version of a church.Marc and Valentino have an unexpected heart-to-heart conversation after the race in Misano.
Series
- Part 1 of nocturne in G minor
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“You’re the last person I wanted to see tonight,” he forces out, each word wrenched off his throat, burning like a popped sore.
Marc’s face is unsettingly blank, eyes big and round, dark enough that Valentino can’t make out the iris from the pupil. Even under the bright, cold neon lights he manages to look glowing and hieratical, floating one foot above everyone else.
Valentino’s stomach churns. Nausea, or the ulcers he’s gotten himself since landing in Lombok. Sad, sad and pathetic.
“Come on. At least I’m not a journalist.”
There’s some misplaced lightheartedness in his voice, an open, blatant contrast with how tense and squared up he looks, with his legs slightly spread and his arms crossed over his chest, covering a sponsor logo on his shirt.
Valentino decides that his health consciousness can go to shit too, and produces his pack of cigarettes, the battered Bic lighter slippery in his sweaty hand.
“I’m not in the mood, Marc. Just go.” Please, he’d add, if he wasn’t so adamant about not coming off too miserable.Before disaster strikes in Indonesia, Marc and Valentino meet again, and they talk some more. Once is a coincidence, but twice...well.
Series
- Part 2 of nocturne in G minor
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nocturne in g minor (op.15, no.3) by CamilleDuDemon
Fandoms: Motorcycling RPF, MotoGP RPF
06 Dec 2025
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To some extent, Marc likes it, the power he’s got on Valentino nowadays. The fact that Valentino doesn’t attend certain events just because he knows Marc will be there gives him a sort of perverse pleasure, cutting and sharp, like barbed wire.
He chews carefully through every course. From the info he gathered, there will be a charity auction after the Michelin Star dinner, that sort of thing that seems to entertain bored, rich people to no ends. Valentino isn’t here to bid, though. It’s just that his leathers will be auctioned off for some good cause Marc hasn’t bothered with researching, and he had to be here to convince someone to buy it.
Marc could. Bidding starts at ten thousand euros – it’s a ridiculously small amount of money for him, he could even do it without informing his wealth manager in advance. Folding his napkin on his lap, Marc really thinks about it. Thinks about how it would look inside one of his glass showcases, dark blue amongst a sea of flashy Repsol Honda colors. Swarmed by it.
Swarmed by him.Marc buys his invite to a charity auction just to see Valentino. There's nothing wrong with that, right?
Series
- Part 3 of nocturne in G minor
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every now and then I get a little bit lonely by CamilleDuDemon
Fandoms: Motorcycling RPF, MotoGP RPF
12 Jan 2026
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“I’m in Madrid.”
No unnecessary embellishments. No hello, no sorry to call you so late, no how are you doing. There’s a beat of silence on the other end of the line, as if Marc is taking a while to process what Valentino is implying, and he knows, he knows he isn’t supposed to call, that’s not how it works between them anymore, but.
It’s late, he’s tired, he’s in Madrid. Too soon, maybe. Soon enough to turn the medicine into poison – not something Valentino can afford, considering the state of things. Being here is the same as admitting defeat, to some extent. Showing his soft underbelly to the very person who won’t hesitate to use his vulnerability against him.
And yet.
Perhaps Marc is also the only person that could – maybe not understand, but something akin to it. Or perhaps it’s just that Valentino is irredeemably fucked, in more ways than one.Following his non-consensual farewell to WEC, Valentino needs a place where to bury his head under the sand. Madrid looks like a palatable option, considering that a certain Marc Marquez lives there...
Series
- Part 4 of nocturne in G minor