what if i was the prodigal son and you were the golden boy and we were only teammates for two years but in that time we irrevocably changed one another and and i had to leave (i'm always leaving) and you stayed and rooted yourself to the place where we met and still spoke positively of me while we were on separate teams because we each carved a niche for the other person that clearly only they could fill and that only became more obvious as we failed to recreate that dynamic with our replacements and that only cemented how our relationship came to be defined as non-standard, a fluke, the ultimate exception, and wasn't i always your exception? since you don't ever change your mind once you decide on something (tomato soup, beef carpaccio, oversteery cars, and me) and i even comment on it, how you haven't changed (max is max) because you're such a beacon when i look back and the stars you had in your eyes then are now reflected in mine because years later i'm overestimating how many times we shared a podium and valuing your victories like they're mine (if it's not me, i'm glad it's him) and even when it should have been over for us (baku) for me (abu dhabi) the rule of exceptions kicked in and i was the first to come back because despite it all this was my team first (still they call you daniel) and homecoming smells like two-stroke fuel and vanilla because you're the constant i'll always return to, the immovable object to my unstoppable force and we were both boys?
