Knot me on ice, Captain(BL)-Chapter 100: Viller, not Filler.

Leo

Kayden flinched, his face going pale before turning a deep, vivid red. "I... what? No, it’s not... we are just..."

"Don’t bother," I interrupted, cutting through his stuttering. "It’s obvious. Your physiological response every time he enters a room is a textbook case of elevated cortisol and dopamine. You are very, very transparent."

Kayden slumped onto the leather bench, hiding his face in his hands. "Is it really that bad?"

"To me? Yes. To the rest of the world? They just think both of you are friends who have chemistry, though your ’ray’ shippers online certainly think more than that," I told him, glancing back at the table to ensure we were still unobserved.

"Listen to me: once this round is over—if the team manages to reach the Conference Finals—you both need to take a break. Step away from the Dome, the fans, and especially the pressure you and Rhys are under. Maybe, just maybe, you can find out what he is hiding and also confess to him."

"A break?" Kayden looked up. "Where would we even go?"

"I have a suggestion. You can go to a quiet location far away from the noise. Also," I leaned closer to him, "I have four VIP passes for the upcoming Formula 1 Grand Prix. More importantly, my cousin Nicholas ’Nico’ Park is racing. He’s already cleared the guest list."

Kayden’s eyes went wide, and he jumped to his feet excitedly. He stared at the ground and then at me, his mouth falling open. "Wait... Nicholas Park? As in the Nicholas Park? The lead driver for the Red Bull team?"

I nodded. "Yes, your one and only crush," I chuckled. "We could go together with..."

"Miller," Kayden winked at me.

I waved my hands dismissively. "Oh, please. I am only inviting him because he is Rhys’s best friend."

Kayden smiled. "Of course," he said, and then he let out a sudden, high-pitched scream of pure joy that echoed through the room. He bounced excitedly, the sound cutting through the quiet conversation in the kitchen.

Rhys and Miller both flinched, their heads snapping toward us instantly.

"What is happening?" Rhys demanded. "Is Leo telling you something strange about Miller?"

"Oh, shut up!" I yelled at him.

Kayden burst out laughing and headed toward the kitchen. "Leo got us VIP tickets to the Grand Prix! We are going to the paddock after the Semi-Final Conference is over, and his cousin is Nicholas Park! We are actually going to meet the fastest man on the grid! I can’t wait to meet him!"

The kitchen went dead silent at the announcement. Rhys rolled his eyes while Miller leaned over the island.

"Nicholas Park?" Miller repeated, his voice dropping low. He looked at me and rolled his eyes. "The guy who just won the Monaco circuit? That Nicholas? He’s your cousin?"

"Genetically, yes," I said, rubbing my hands together. "Our mothers are sisters. Nicholas is impulsive, drives fast, and has a questionable taste in hair gel, but he is family."

"And Alaric de Villiers is going to be there too!" Kayden added, leaning over the table, his voice full of a sudden, breathless awe. "He’s Nico’s main rival. Have you guys seen him? He’s like... a literal Greek god but in a racing suit. He’s breathtaking."

Rhys scoffed and folded his arms tightly against his chest. "Breathtaking?" Rhys echoed, his voice dry and dangerously quiet. "He’s a guy who drives in circles for a living, Kayden. Let’s not get carried away."

"Oh, come on, Rhys," Miller chimed in, though he didn’t look much happier. He was looking at me, his eyes narrowed as if he were trying to find a flaw in my DNA. "I have seen De fillers on the news. He is a total pretty boy. He probably spends more time in front of a mirror than in a simulator. You really think he’s hotter than me, Leo?"

I eyed him before speaking up. "Firstly, it’s pronounced as de Villiers, not ’Fillers.’ And from a purely aesthetic and symmetrical standpoint, Alaric de Villiers possesses a facial structure that is statistically superior to 98% of the population," I replied, spreading my arms wide and closing my eyes. "His bone density and muscle tone are also optimized for high G-maneuvers. It is an objective fact that he is attractive."

"Objective fact?" Miller scoffed, slamming his hands on the table. "That boy looks like he’d cry if he broke a nail. You want muscle tone? Look at me, Leo. I have gotten all of that." He pointed to himself emphatically.

"And Nico," Kayden sighed, completely oblivious to the rising tide of jealousy at the table. "He has that beautiful dark hair and those eyes; he’s so charming in his interviews. Perfect ’Asian Pride,’ and I think I might actually faint if he talks to me."

"You are not fainting for anyone," Rhys snapped. "And you are definitely not getting charmed by a guy who wears a fire-retardant onesie."

Kayden groaned and palmed his forehead.

"It’s a professional uniform, Rhys," I pointed out, enjoying the way he and Miller were acting like territorial cats. "It’s just like your jersey. Though arguably, the F1 suits are tailored with more elegance."

Miller leaned in closer to me until his shoulder brushed mine. He then spoke in a low voice that sounded more like a growl. "I don’t care how well-tailored his outfit is. If that ’Filler’ boy tries to charm you while you are in that paddock, I am going to make sure I show him why I am the center of the Northern Avalanche."

I scoffed and shrugged. "I don’t care, Miller. It’s not like we are anything."

Miller groaned. "What does he have that I don’t?"

"Both of them are fluent in five different languages!" I retorted. "Alaric’s French is so..."

"I can speak French," Miller interrupted, leaning toward me with a desperate sort of intensity. "Well, hockey-French. I can tell a referee he’s blind in two different dialects. That’s basically the same thing."

"It is not the same thing, Miller," I said, my voice as dry as a desert. "Refining a gearbox at three hundred kilometers per hour is a feat of engineering and reflexes. It is significantly more sophisticated than chasing a vulcanized rubber disk around a frozen pond."

Rhys looked like he was about to vibrate out of his skin. "Sophisticated? They sit in a chair, Leo. It’s a motorized armchair. I’d like to see de Fillers take a cross-check to the ribs and stay on his feet."

"He doesn’t need to stay on his feet; he has a carbon-fiber monocoque for protection," I noted calmly. "And his name is de Villiers, not Filler, ugh!"

The jealousy in the room was so thick I could have measured it with a barometer.

Miller looked like he wanted to fight a car, and Rhys looked like he was contemplating banning the color red from the Glacier Dome.

Their reactions were not what I had expected.

"This debate is academically stagnant," I announced, looking between Miller and Rhys, already getting tired of their childish behavior. "The logistical facts are these: the tickets are non-transferable, the paddock passes are secured, and the mental health benefits for those coming with me are non-negotiable."

I looked at Kayden, who still looked excited, and placed a hand behind his shoulder. "We are going," I announced.

I then glanced at Miller and Rhys, my gaze lingering a second longer on Miller’s frustrated face. "You both can stay behind and compare your ’G-maneuvers’ in the living room if you want. But Kayden and I will be in the VIP lounge with the drivers."

The silence that followed was heavy. Miller’s mouth hung open slightly, and Rhys looked like I had just told him the season was cancelled.

"You’re actually going?" Rhys stammered. "With the pretty boys? In the fire-suits?"

"Yes," I said, heading toward the sink. "And if I find Alaric de Villiers’ cardiovascular health as impressive as his facial structure, I might even ask for a copy of his EKG. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to check Miller’s temperature. I suspect his blood pressure is currently outside the healthy range."

"Then I am going too. If you are going, I... we are going, right Rhys?"

Before Rhys could reply, I cut them off.

"Suit yourselves!"