Work Text:
Prologue
It was difficult to think about Nico as a young boy. Everything that had gone wrong happened later, but the beginning, the tender start of it, had been perfect. Even now, it hurt to think about how sophisticated and knowing Nico had seemed, and how willing he had been to share that knowledge with Lewis. The oral history of them - the rivalry of Lewis and Nico, breathlessly told by one David Brundle - was rich and positioned neatly as a tragedy, full of betrayals and crashes. "Il Canto degli Italiani" played over the speakers, as did "Hymne Monégasque", over their tight, sullen faces. They grew quite accustomed to hearing the music of their personal battles. "Don't become be friends with your teammates," F1 fans would tell one another, while drivers would say, "don't become teammates with your friends."
He could not recall when Nico stopped being the center of his life. Perhaps it started when he became his own person; maybe it started when he fell in love. When he first started karting in Formula A, it was 1999, and he took a train, a plane, and another train to get to the circuit. He performed beautifully, which delighted and frustrated Nico, who was unusually silent afterwards. They sat on the sidewalk, waiting for Nico’s dad to pick them up from the track, and Lewis ran over the race again in his head, just picturing the long straights. It helped to imagine himself driving the track even if it felt a little abstract in his mind, but it was hard to do it with Nico besides him.
"Don't you think about everything you did wrong afterwards?" Lewis asked. "I can't stop thinking about it."
"I mean, yeah. It's not like you care more than me." Nico swept his hair off his forehead. He had gotten a fashionable sort of mop these days that obscured most of the acne on his face. "I just have other things I like to do. I don't think about racing all the time the way you do."
At fourteen years old, Nico was somewhat of an authority figure when it came to racing, with the sort of blue blood lineage that lent itself nicely to precociousness. He had been formed in the sort of elite private schools that Lewis would never set foot in, and gave off a general air of assuredness. Nico had grown up on race tracks in a different way than him.
"I don't spend every moment thinking about racing."
“It’s not like you'll be faster if you want it more."
"I guess not."
Nico looked like he was trying not to roll his eyes. “Lots of people want to be an F1 racer, but only a few of us will make it,” he said. “You have to be good and you have to know the right people.”
"But I don't know the right people," Lewis said.
"You know me, don't you?" Nico said fiercely.
As it turned out, he didn't know Nico as well as he thought.
Part 1: 2007
It was late in the day when Lewis was done with the media. He hung back for a few minutes in his driver’s room, fast-forwarding through the broadcast. The pixels were a blur of movement, and his car was noticeable among the lot, the chassis the color of an orange creamsicle, darting between cars. Nico’s car was less conspicuous, though no less faster. They looked like two lego blocks against the asphalt. He watched until the video ended, then restarted it again.
He thought of Nico at thirteen, fuming when Lewis was on the upper step of the podium. He thought of all the little ways they rehashed the same race in different ways, across different countries and teams. Fame was a strange thing. The more the media tuned in, the less Nico talked to him. Sometimes, it felt like the only way he could tell what Nico thought was through the statements to the press. There were days when Nico would tell him that he raced well, only to find out later that Nico had also made some pointed comment to a German broadcasting station just hours before.
There wasn’t anything objectionable about how Lewis had raced this time. He watched the tape again. It must have looped at least three times before Nico came into the room. His hair was still wet from the shower, and his clothes fit him weirdly, like he wasn’t meant to be seen in anything but a race suit.
“Ready to go?” Nico asked.
“Yeah, sorry,” Lewis said, rising from his chair. “Did I keep you waiting?”
“A little bit.” Nico’s forehead creased, then just as quickly smoothed out. “It’s okay though. I know you’re busier than me.”
Lewis sighed. “Don’t say it like that.”
Nico shrugged. A storm was gathering, just behind his placid expression. “Shouldn’t I? We both know that it’s true.”
There was something uneasy between them that had taken root once they were both F1 drivers. On Friday nights, they liked to spend the night together, because it didn’t work any other way. Nico would get bitterly resentful with each race Lewis won, not that Lewis was any better. They could only see each other before the race, and even before qualifying. He would sneak into Nico’s hotel room or Nico would come to him. They would eat breakfast in the hotel, before going their separate ways. It had always been like that, through the scant few months of F1, six years of single seaters, and a thousand karting races that blurred in his mind, before he even knew what love was. He could sum up their entire friendship in snippets, in the moments they could bear to be in each other’s presence.
He had a sneaking feeling that this wasn't what love was supposed to feel like. He knew it. He had a feeling Nico knew it too.
“More coffee?” Nico asked.
Lewis shook his head. “I’m trying to quit.”
Nico’s eyebrows flew up. “Quit caffeine? That’ll be tough.”
“I don’t like how it makes me feel.”
“It makes you faster in the car, though.” Nico fixed himself another cup, then added a liberal amount of sweetener to it.
“I don’t need it,” Lewis said, then regretted it when the smile flickered on Nico’s face like a lamp switched off.
It was a bitter pill for Nico to swallow, knowing that he wasn’t the best, or at the very least, that he wasn’t the most popular. Lewis had grown accustomed to making him wait in the paddock for hours, sitting in drivers rooms and in the backseat of cars. There were more interviewers who wanted a pullquote and photographers who wanted a picture. He had delegated Nico to his shadow, but at least Nico was being nice about it.
“I’ll take some,” Lewis said quickly, reaching for the pot.
“No,” Nico said, pulling it out of reach. “Don’t - don’t force yourself.”
Recently, everything that used to feel easy began to feel like work. The only thing that felt natural was racing. “Don’t be silly,” Lewis said, smiling. “It’s just coffee, isn’t it?
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?
“This is so fucking stupid.” Nico heaved a giant sigh. “Don’t drink coffee if you don’t want to drink coffee. I don’t want you to change on my account."
Lewis was more popular in this sport, but it was Nico who had all the connections. Everywhere Lewis went, he met Nico’s friends - at race tracks, in expensive restaurants, and at nightclubs. Nico had a way into any venue, and it seemed like he was on a first name basis with every club promoter in the world. He had the sort of charisma that everyone in the paddock seemed to have. It was as if rich people operated at the same frequency, speaking a sort of secret language that Lewis had yet to learn.
He recalled being told, during his first month on the team, that he would learn. The problem was: it had been over a decade since he had been folded into Nico's life, and it still didn't feel like his.
“I know this isn’t what you wanted, but try to have fun, will you?” Nico said, taking his hand.
Nico had picked the restaurant, a one-Michelin star twelve-seater omakase out in Sheperd's Bush. It was nearly a two hour drive from the circuit, and therefore entirely out of range for him, but Nico insisted. His friend from school were going to be there. Lewis had forgotten the name already. Even without the race on his mind, he was too tired to act social, and there was a desperate edge in Nico’s smile with the growing silence. It was times like these that made him feel bad - for not trying hard enough to connect with Nico's friends, for reverting back to his sullen, teenage self.
“You’re a racer as well, aren’t you?” Nico’s friend asked him.
“Lewis is with McLaren now,” Nico interjected.
"Oh, is he?" The man chortled. "Isn’t McLaren a better car than a Williams? I bet he gives you a run for your money.”
Nico’s smile grew tight. “We both do alright,” he said, which was surprisingly restrained of him, and then ruined it by adding, "he's the rookie this season, so he still has a lot to learn."
“Well, they show the races on cable TV,” Lewis added. It was short and matter-of-fact, bordering on rude, but he couldn’t help it.
“He’s joking,” Nico said, the smile fading from his face. “We can get you tickets.”
Lewis ignored the pinprick of indignation. The man studied him, assessing, measuring him against Nico. “It doesn’t matter either way,” the man said finally. “We’ve got other friends who can get us in.”
And on and on it went, until he was mercifully dismissed and bundled back into Nico's sports car for the long drive back. Nico was a good, careful driver on the road, and they inched past the rolling hills back to the circuit. Through the speakers, the low sounds of Nico's music filtered through. It was one of the playlists Lewis had made for him years ago when they were just kids, with lots of OutKast and Jay-Z and a little bit of Kanye. Nico hadn't known anything about music back then.
"Did you have fun?" Nico asked finally. One of his hands was on the steering wheel, the other gripped Lewis's hand like a lifeline.
"Sure."
Nico sighed. "I hate it when you do that.”
“Do what.”
“Lie to me.”
"Please, Nico. This was a nice night. I don't want to fight." Lewis looked out the window.
"I know it's hard for you, but I wish you could get along better with my friends," Nico said quietly.
There was a dry ball of lint stuck in his throat. Lewis tried valiantly to swallow past it. "I try, Nico. You don't know how much I try."
When was he going to feel comfortable? When is he going to make it? He couldn’t seem to navigate these relationships with the same ease as Nico, who grew up in this world. As time passed, Lews couldn’t help but feel as if he was a trespasser in Nico’s life.
He loved Nico so much. If he didn't, then he would’ve left Nico years ago.
It was nine o'clock on a Sunday morning, and they had the rare privilege of spending the entire morning together. Lewis took meeting with Toto and Adrien, where he was sure that Nico couldn't overhear, then ran two kilometers to the nearest supermarket to buy some summer peaches and an entire loaf of bread. At ten, Nico walked out of the bedroom, rubbing his eyes blearily.
"Shit, you're up already?"
"Yeah, I just couldn't go back to sleep."
"You made food too?"
"If you want."
Nico's eyes softened. "Of course I do."
Lewis couldn't stop looking at him; sometimes it was just like that. Nico yawned into his open palm, blinking rapidly. For some reason, it reminded him of six years ago, when Nico had barged into his room, shaking him awake at some indeterminable time of the night. It stood out in startling clarity, more than anything else from his childhood - not the traveling or karting, but the ragged, determined look on Nico's face when he made Lewis promise to get into F1. Lewis had woken in increments, too disoriented to do much of anything but lay there, staring at the clock behind Nico's head. Then, Nico had climbed into Lewis's bed and held onto him like he was going to disappear. Lewis still remembered the suffocating heat as he had lain in Nico's arms, but he hadn't moved.
That was the thing about Nico. It was important to cut his losses sometimes, to go along with whatever scheme Nico cooked up, to lie down and accept whatever Nico said, even if he didn't understand it. It was incredible that they had managed to stay together. It was a miracle. Maybe it was comfort, maybe it was love. It didn’t matter. They had made it together, just like Nico had promised.
He laid out two plates, and put half a serving of eggs onto Nico's plate. "I'm thinking of going vegan, actually," Lewis said.
"Oh?" There was a wrinkle forming between Nico's eyebrows when he furrowed his brow. It filled Lewis with an aching tenderness to think of Nico with wrinkles. "It isn't - this isn't because of racing, is it?"
Lewis shook his head. "I don't like the idea of eating animals, and I've been doing some research into it."
“Okay,” Nico said easily.
“Okay?”
“Yeah, it’ll take more planning but we can make it work.” At Lewis’s surprised silence, he added, “because we’re doing this together, right? That’s why you brought it up?”
He was a real sweetheart, that boy. At ten years old, he had looked at Lewis and decided that he was going to be Lewis's friend. How could Lewis have possibly countered that? "If you want to?" Lewis asked. "Don't feel pressured either way."
"I think it could be a fun challenge," Nico said.
Lewis laughed; it was classic Nico, imagining something as simple as food as something to be defeated and conquered. "Sure, if you're up for it.
"I always liked the way you do things," Nico said wistfully. "You would just decide one day that you wanted to do something and do it. There’s no bullshit."
He always got a strange feeling that he was the one who had dragged Nico into this sport, but then again, it also felt like it was Nico's determination that got them both here. Nico didn't seem as happy as he used to be as a child, but neither did Lewis, really. Sometimes he couldn't tell if Nico loved racing as much as he did - did Nico feel less or did Lewis feel more? It was overwhelming sometimes, being the center of Nico's attention.
"We'll figure it out together," Lewis said.
Part 2: 2010
He won a championship early on in his career, and in that time, Nico had won none. Sometimes Lewis was afraid that he had peaked too early, but it was nothing compared to what Nico was enduring. Nico had come from racing royalty and he had the money to survive failure. It was only his pride that took a beating. Part of what he had come to understand by now was that he was things didn't get easier with age. He could not stop feeling sorry for Nico, but he also couldn't stop winning. Together they inched forward in their careers. Other drivers came and went, but the two of them stayed in place - Lewis at McLaren, Nico at Williams - until things changed again.
“Are you nervous?” Lewis asked after he heard the news. Nico's arm wrapped around him tightly, anchoring him to the bed. He turned to face Nico's chest almost without meaning, hearing the rapid beating of his heart.
“No,” Nico’s face was clear. “Things are finally starting to work out.”
“I’m happy for you," Lewis said simply.
“Are you really?” Nico pulled away to examine his face.
"I am."
"Really?"
Lewis let out an amused sigh. "What do you want me to say?" He pinched Nico's arm, making him yelp. "I think you’ll do well at Mercedes. I know it was frustrating when you drove for Williams, but you'll have new opportunities and a fresh start."
"You're not just saying that?" Nico asked intently.
"Of course not," Lewis said. "You've worked so hard to get to where you are. You deserve success."
In retrospect, he thought - well. What came afterwards was less of a surprise
The first time they fought had been awful. They had been so young - Lewis had cut him off at a turn, earlier in a karting race, and Nico had retaliated. It hadn't been serious. If anything, it had been something that an F1 commentator would have call a racing incident, but at eleven years old, it had led to a knockdown, screaming fight. It was actually funny when he thought about it now. How much those karting races seemed to matter then, and how distant they felt now. He knew now that races all felt like that with time, whether he was ten or twenty, and that after a few years, he could move past even the worst of the offenses.
Things became tougher after Lewis won a championship. His first one, though they hadn’t known that at the time. After the race, he stood on his car, crying through the flashing lights, and caught Nico’s stricken face in the crowd. Nico composed himself quickly, but in Lewis's mind, a terrible clarity settled inside him - he had fucked it all up. Nico was never going to forgive him, not only for winning, but for winning first.
It was a stupid thought, stemming from adrenaline and dehydration. Nothing changed between them, except for a strange prickliness that blanketed them like fog when they talked about racing. Even after Nico signed with Mercedes, that didn't change. The list of things Lewis couldn't talk about grew longer and longer. Racing, of course, along with how difficult it was to race against Jenson, team troubles, his contract, and any sponsorship deals he had gotten recently.
He woke up alone most days. Nico's side of the bed was always cool, and his phone was gone as well. Lewis got up in the morning and made them breakfast as usual. Called his mom. Thought about all the things that were difficult and the things he did for love. By the time Nico came home, the scrambled tofu he cooked had grown cold. His skin was clammy, his lips cool against Lewis's cheek.
"They want me to be their number one driver once Michael is gone," Nico said, incandescently happy.
He leaned down again. The kiss was messy, excited. Slow in a way it hadn't been for years. His hands curled around Lewis's waist, grasping at the fabric, and then lower below the waistband.
"Is Michael planning on leaving anytime soon?" Lewis asked, pulling away with a gasp
"No, but no one likes being the number two driver."
"I guess so," Lewis said. As far as he knew, Mercedes didn't have a strict number one and two driver. Besides, Michael was old and wasn't driving as well as he used to, and there was really no point in reiterating what everyone already knew.
"I think I can win a championship with this team, I really do," Nico said. "They're not always good, I'll admit, but when things click they really click.
Obviously he was happy. Obviously, he wanted Nico to do well in the sport. "Nico -"
"Please Lewis, can we talk later?"
The kitchen table was digging into his back. When he circled his legs around Nico, the warmth leeched into his body, like he was finally coming in from the cold.
Part 3: 2012
It was the German kid who caused all the problems.
He wasn’t a kid, not really. He was only a year or two younger than Lewis, but he flew right out of the gate in his first year at Red Bull. For a while, Lewis's only competitors were Felipe and Fernando and Jenson. Nico too, if Lewis was feeling generous. Truthfully, he hadn’t really paid the Red Bull drivers much attention until Sebastian joined the team, and then things rapidly changed. For a while, it felt like there were no other drivers of Sebastian’s caliber as he won championship after championship. Since Sebastian’s debut, Lewis's relationship with Nico had begun to feel like a partnership, and they were a united front in that regard. It was funny how things turned out.
Sebastian was very blond and very German, a mirror image of Nico, similar in some ways, different in others. He had a short temper and was too open with the media. It was a bad combination for any driver, let alone one as young as Sebastian. Lewis could take insolence from Nico, but he wouldn’t tolerate it from anyone else.
“He’s too cocky for his own good,” Nico said after a race.
Lewis snorted, which earned him a wry look from Nico. “Sorry, I just - you know.”
“Yeah, I do,” Nico said, laughing. “I know I say some stuff sometimes, but I don’t usually say it in front of the press. And I definitely wouldn’t say it in front of my teammate.”
“He’s making waves,” Lewis said. “It’s not a bad thing.”
“No, but -” Nico sighed, rubbing his forehead. “He’s an annoying little shit.”
Nico was right, although Lewis felt bad for thinking it. Sebastian didn’t know when to stop, and he was altogether too skilled at riding up the older drivers. Somehow, Lewis still liked him. There was something about the way Sebastian smiled, like he had a secret that no one else knew. When he made a joke, the laughter slipped out of Lewis unintentionally, no matter how much Lewis tried to hold it in. It wouldn’t have been as much of an issue if Nico hadn’t caught him doing it.
“Stay away from him," Nico said.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” Lewis said lightly, but with an edge of seriousness in his voice.
“I mean it,” Nico pressed on. “He wants you. The worst part is that I can’t even blame him. I would want you too if we weren’t together.”
Contrary to Nico's opinion, it wasn't as if Lewis was the hottest, most desirable man in F1, but it was sweet that Nico thought so. Or well, sometimes it was sweet. Other times, it felt a bit strange, like looking through a funhouse mirror at his own distorted reflection.
“Nico,” Lewis paused. “Don’t make it weird."
“Okay.” Nico took a deep breath. “Come here.” He grasped Lewis’s hand loosely, tucking him under the crook of his arm. “I love you."
When did it start to feel like a bandaid for everything that was going wrong? “I love you too,” Lewis said.
It was very easy to be at a race track in Monaco, and then end up in a club in Monte Carlo not five minutes later. Such were the ways of Monaco. It was a difficult thing for people to wrap their minds around, if they had been to French or Italian Grand Prix. They had never been on a race track surrounded by friends and neighbors, then gone to a restaurant where half the customers were familiar faces, old bosses and colleagues and ex-teammates. When Lewis entered the club, he realized quickly that it was a bad idea from the start. He wanted to go around to his mechanics and buy them all a drink, but Nico was like a beacon, his blond hair gleaming white under all the lights, and still somehow so beautiful after the long day.
He could've chosen a different club in a different city, but not in Monaco. He saw Nico at the bar, waving down a bartender to procure two shots. Green tea shots, Lewis could tell, even from a distance. No matter how much Nico liked to play act at sophistication - buying expensive dry wines and yachts - he still preferred his alcohol to taste like juice at the end of the day. His amusement quickly faded when Nico turned around and gave a shot to a woman standing nearby. She looked vaguely familiar, like she could've been in some blockbuster movie or a TV show his mom really liked. It was okay. It didn't mean anything. Nico seemed to attract attention wherever he went. It seemed like he invited it.
Lewis got up to dance. Across the dance floor, a slice of light hit a face in profile, illuminating it in a dizzying array of colors. Sometimes he was so lonely he thought he would burst. There wasn't a single song he recognized, and the beat bounced around his semi conscious brain. If he played his cards right, he thought that he might have a chance of winning the championship this year, although he'd have to get through Seb first. And then the strange emptiness in his heart would end.
It was a pure accident that he even saw Seb, sitting in shadow with his back against the wall, just looking at him. There was nothing in Seb's expression, no amusement or irritation, just a blank sort of anticipation. Lewis managed to dance for a few more minutes before he couldn't take it any longer
"Do we have a problem?" Lewis demanded. He almost asked Seb to stop looking at him, but that almost felt like defeat. "Why do you keep looking at me?"
"There's no problem," Seb said calmly. "Do you want to sit?"
He hated being watched, but he hated the small smile on Seb's face more, like he thought that Lewis wasn't going to do anything about it. Seb's expression flickered when he sat down, surprise or excitement, possibly both. Lewis rested his head against the paddies booth and looked up at the flashing lights. He heard a soft laugh and turned his head to see Seb smile down at him sympathetically
"Long night?" Seb asked.
"Yeah, but you know how it is. It's Monaco." Lewis shrugged helplessly.
Seb's eyes scanned the swell of the dancefloor, before landing on Nico. “Looks like your boyfriend ditched you for the night,” he said neutrally.
Cold fear shot down Lewis's spine. “What is that supposed to mean," he asked, his voice sounding high and scared.
"I won't say anything," Seb assured him.
"But how did you know?"
Seb snorted. "It's not like it's hard to tell with the way he looks at you.
He had only known Seb for three years, and it wasn't as if they spent any time together. They were coworkers at best, exchanging a few words after races and locking eyes anytime an interviewer asked them a particularly silly question. It was as if someone had brutally ripped away a part of himself. He hadn't realized how much comfort he had found in the privacy he thought he had. "Please don't tell anyone," Lewis begged.
“I never would. If you were my -” There was one thrilling moment when Lewis thought he was going to say it, and he dreaded and welcomed it. Seb took a deep breath and took another large sip of his drink. “Maybe you deserve better than him; have you ever thought about that?”
“Don’t say that about him,” Lewis said, his voice sharp. “You don’t know him. You don’t know me either.”
“You’re right, I don’t.” There was a hint of a smirk on his features. Nothing fazed him, and that irritated Lewis. There was something youthful and careless about him, something that Lewis had lost years ago.
“Why are you sitting here talking to me anyways? Don’t you have people to see or girls to talk to?”
“Maybe I don’t want to talk to any girls.”
Seb's hair was curling gently near his temples; his gaze was direct and clear, and his lips shone red under the lights. Lewis looked away. “Shit, man. You have to be careful saying things like that in public.”
“I know,” Seb said easily, “but I can trust you, can't it?”
Lewis sighed. It felt like he had no other choice. “Yeah, you can trust me.”
It was late in the night when they finally left the club together. Lewis had taken one desperate look at the bar, but Nico had been nowhere to be found. Seb had tried to insist that they take his flashy new Porche, a gift from his team, but Lewis insisted on walking. There was something about Monaco; everyone recognized them but they were mostly left alone.
“I should go back home,” Lewis said. “Do you know your way back?”
“I’m sure I can figure it out,” Seb said. His smile was distinctly dopey and slow.
Lewis sighed. “Which hotel are you staying at?”
They took a slow, ambling path towards the hotel. The sidewalks were narrow and not meant for walking side by side, and Seb’s knuckles brushed his with every step. Eventually, he took Lewis in hand and threaded their fingers together. Lewis darted a look at him.
"I'm with someone." There was no need to say his name; they both knew who it was.
"So am I."
"I won't cheat on him. I hate cheaters."
"So do I.
“Okay, well.” Lewis said, then had the inane desire to add, “I guess that’s settled.”
Seb's face was amused. He squeezed Lewis’s hand once, twice. "Do you even like me? Sometimes it feels like you don't."
Lewis shrugged. "Sure." Realizing he sounds less than enthused, he added, "I think you're funny and you can be nice."
"Oh, I can be nice?"
Lewis could only give him a wry look. "I think you know what you’re like."
Seb laughed. "I could say the same about you.”
“I’m not nearly as bad,” Lewis scoffed.
“You are,” Seb said, as simple as fact. “I’m not saying that you’re not nice, but you’re not very nice to me .”
"When have I ever been mean to you," Lewis said, the laughter bubbling out of him before he could stop himself.
Seb's eyes crinkled when he smiled. "You almost ran me off the track today. I could've driven into the pier, Lewis, and then what would've happened?"
Lewis bit the inside of his cheek. He felt like he was floating; maybe that was just the remnants of the alcohol in his system. He had to let go of Seb’s hand, he had to. Holding Seb’s hand made him feel like crying, like his heart was going to beat itself out of his chest. He couldn’t keep going on like this. Just as he was steeling himself, Seb gave his hand another squeeze and let go.
“I think we’re here,” he said. “Do you want to come up?”
“I don’t want to do anything.” There was something desperate in his voice, a fear that he wished Seb would not hear.
“I know, Lewis,” Seb said patiently. “Just come up and we can listen to some music or something.”
He liked that about Seb. Everything was so simple; he didn’t know anything else. Racing was his dream and he loved it wholeheartedly, and his gaze didn’t stray. It wasn’t a stepping stone. This was all that he wanted to do and he had made it.
“It’s not - it’s not a trap,” Seb said quietly. “Just come hang out.”
“Okay,” Lewis said shakily. “Okay.”
Sebastian’s room was dark and cool, indistinguishable from the countless other hotel rooms Lewis had been in. Through the vent in the wall, the AC blared so loudly, it drowned out the noise from the street.
"You can sit on the bed," Seb said.
"In my outside clothes?" Lewis asked, wrinkling his nose.
"I've got some pajama pants here," Seb said, rifling through his suitcase.
"Seb, I -"
"What?"
"Nothing. I'll take the pajamas."
Seb fished out a pair of horrendous drawstring pants of pink and green plaid. It was so colorful, so unlike anything he would wear. Lewis put them on. It was a bad idea. Seb smelled like soap and engine oil and a little bit of cologne that Lewis had gotten a whiff of at the club. It was so incredibly familiar. He wished he could sink into the softness of the fibers and disappear entirely.
“What do you want to listen to?” Sebastian asked.
“I don’t know,” Lewis said. “What’s your favorite band?”
“I like Simon and Garfunkel,” Seb said. “I know I have old man tastes, but some things just never get old.”
Lewis laughed. “Play me your favorite Simon and Garfunkel song.”
“Sure,” Seb said easily. "Well, this is technically cheating because it's just Garfunkel, and it's technically a cover and not his song -"
"Let me listen to the song, Seb," Lewis said, smiling, and Seb's cheeks reddened.
Seb was a warm and heavy weight on the bed next to him. Through his phone, the singer went on about the promise of life, and Lewis held his breath for a second. “Why do you like this one,” he said. “It’s so - sad, I suppose. I don't know how I feel.
Seb paused. "It's nostalgic. It reminds me of car rides with my family. I guess I also like the bittersweet songs the most. It reminds me of all the things I had to experience, the hardships and all that, just for a little bit of this joy. Do you get what I mean?"
"Yeah," Lewis said. "I get what you mean."
It was like going through a looking glass or emerging from a dream. He had known Seb for almost a year now, a lifetime by F1 standards. There was something so strange about this night that he knew he was going to remember forever. It was the little things that caught him off guard. He was going to listen to Seb's songs and then go home, back to his own apartment and his own bed, wishing he could forget what he felt in this moment.
Oh fuck, Lewis thought. I'm in trouble.
"Sorry," Seb said. "My iTunes is on shuffle."
"You don't have to apologize. I like it." Lewis looked over at him. They were sitting with their legs pressed together, propped up by the headboard. Seb looked at him, waiting. "I don't know anything about you."
"You know me," Seb said. "I'm an open book."
The problem was, he did know Seb quite well, it turned out.
Seb wasn't like Nico. It was awful to compare the two of them, even in the privacy of his mind, but they weren't similar at all. It was impossible to know Nico these days, the real Nico, the one who had been so full of heart. He was still there, buried under layers of bravado. Lewis didn't want to think about Nico tonight.
Seb was tough like leather, all the way through. There was no artifice about him. He didn't try to act cooler than he was. His brashness bordered on arrogance, and there wasn't a single apologetic bone in his body. The first time Lewis met Seb, really met him, had been at some sort of preseason event. They had gotten all the drivers together for headshots and a few promotional videos. It was kind of weird to think about now, because Seb had only been twenty, bright eyed and so, so excited to be there. They were both new to the sport, but the main difference between them was that Lewis had Nico and Seb had no one.
Seb had approached the two of them with a sort of reckless confidence that not a lot of people had. "It's good to see you again," he had said, grinning, as if they had met before. "It's been a while, hasn't it?."
Seb groaned when he brought it up. "I can't believe you remember that."
Lewis laughed and rolled over onto his back. Somehow, during the course of the night, he had migrated down the bed, stretching out over the covers. Seb's hand rested gently on his arm. "You were already so comfortable there. I remember that. Were you nervous at all?" Lewis hid a smile when Seb groaned again.
"Why would I be nervous? I knew I deserved to be there," Seb said, without any embarrassment, so matter-of-fact that it could only be true.
It was arrogance, plain and simple. He wasn't so different from the other drivers, but he was the only one who said it out loud, especially so early in his career. Lewis liked it; he wished he didn't, from the bottom of his heart. "You're so -" he trailed off. "Optimistic, I suppose. The other drivers must hate you."
"Oh, they do," Seb grinned. "They hate me even more when I win."
"Isn't it lonely, living like that?"
"Of course," Seb stared at him in surprise. "It's always lonely at the top. Wasn't it like that for you?"
The use of past tense stung a little. It had been four years since Lewis had won his championship, and the glory had faded a little. "Yes." His voice was raspy, and he cleared his throat and tried again. "It was lonely for me as well."
"Even with Nico?" Seb asked, his thumb rubbing circles into Lewis's wrist.
"Yes and no." Lewis shifted on the bed. "You know how it is with racing and relationships."
"Not really," Seb said. "I wish you and Nico never met."
Lewis waited for the indignation that never came. He thought about it for a moment. “Why is that?”
“I would’ve liked to have seen what sort of man you would’ve become without him,” Seb said, “and I’m certain you would’ve made it to F1."
"Don't say that," Lewis said hoarsely. "Please."
"Okay,” Seb said, his eyebrows furrowed. It looked like he was about to cry.
This was a huge problem. It was the fucking joke of his life that he hadn't even looked at another man until now. He had the luck of meeting Nico early on in his life. He had been so lucky. There was no reason for Lewis to feel anything at all towards Seb's lanky, pale body, and the laughter that lingered in the corner of his mouth. Seb wasn’t anything special. He was an asshole on the track and didn’t look all that different from the countless drivers Lewis had come up with, just vaguely blond and vaguely European. He was the most striking person Lewis had met in a long time.
Lewis knew that he had messed things up so badly. He needed to leave right at this moment, but he couldn't get his limbs to cooperate. It had been so long since he had a friend he could talk to; in the past, that person had been Nico, but he couldn’t talk to Nico about their problems. “It’s not a big deal,” Lewis said. “It doesn’t matter how I made it here. I wouldn’t have wanted to do it without Nico.”
“Really?” Seb asked.
"It wouldn't have been the same. Sometimes it feels like - like I've been with Nico for so long, I don't know what I like about him. But he's mine. I don’t want anyone else because he’s mine. Maybe racing would've been enough, but things would have been worse without him.”
“Yeah, I understand.” Seb’s voice was very gentle and so soft.
“You don’t,” Lewis said, shaking his head. “You never will.”
Seb’s hand shifted from his arm to his hand. Lewis held on tightly and wished that he could take it all back. It was easier when Seb didn’t know so much about him. It was excruciating, being seen like this. Seb’s music was still playing in the background, some old school indie shit that he never listened to. Maybe Nico would enjoy it on their non-race weekends, when it was just the two of them relaxing in their apartment. "Tell me a secret, something you've never told anyone before,” Lewis said. Seb gave him a cool, amused look, and he added, "I just humiliated myself telling you about Nico, you have to tell me something in return."
Seb's lips quirked. “I was going to say that I like racing against you the most, but it's hard to top what you said.”
Lewis threw a pillow at him, which made him squawk. “You can’t tell me something lame. It has to be true.”
“That is true,” Seb laughed, then lobbed the pillow straight back. “You’re stubborn and incredibly annoying on the track, but I love a challenge.” He reached out a hand when Lewis made a move to stand up. “Okay, okay, here’s something true. I’ve always liked you."
Lewis rolled his eyes. “If you’re not going to take this seriously, then I’m going to leave.”
“No, I mean it.” Seb’s eyes were strangely intent. “From the first moment I saw you. You were so determined and so careful, but you drove like someone was chasing you."
"People are chasing me."
Seb huffed. "You know what I mean. You drive like your life depends on it, and you come out of the car with this look on your face like - like you've achieved everything you wanted in life, like you've conquered the world."
"Everyone looks like that."
"They really don't," Seb said quietly.
Lewis darted a look at him, unexpectedly shy. "And you've liked me since then?"
"Yes."
"Is it that simple?
Seb cocked his head. "Does it have to be more complicated?"
Seb studied him, but Lewis looked away. “I don’t know what to say to that.”
“I don’t need you to say anything.” Seb’s gaze was direct, his smile easy. “I just wanted to say it out loud.”
He woke up with Seb's face inches away from his. The room was dark and quiet. He must have fallen asleep; even worse, Seb must have turned the music off and turned off the lights instead of waking him up. The daylight was barely beginning to peek through the curtains, illuminating Seb’s face. There was just the barest hint of growth in his upper lip, but his cheeks were smooth.
Lewis tried to extricate himself from Seb's arms, which only made Seb stir. "Oh, are you up?" he said, blinking rapidly.
"I need to get back," Lewis said, slipping out of Seb's pajama pants and pulling on his own.
"Okay," Seb said. "Let me walk you back." His hair was soft and flat on one side, and Lewis wanted more than anything to even it out.
"I can go on my own."
"Please, Lewis."
Lewis looked down at his phone. It was four forty-three in the morning, and far too early for any respectable person to be awake. There were no texts from Nico, but to be fair, Lewis hadn't texted him either. "Fine. Okay."
Seb slipped on a hoodie in a hurry, and he struggled to find the arm holes. His ears were bright red, almost fluorescent, when he finally got it on. When they walked back towards Lewis's apartment, it was almost dawn. The fog blanketed the city like a blanket, and the sky was colorless, except for the warm rays peeking over the horizon. They reached the corner of Rue de Sainte Devote, where the street was cleared of the barriers.
"My apartment's just up there," Lewis said, pointing at a narrow alleyway leading up the hill.
"I guess I'll see you at the next race," Seb said.
"I guess so," Lewis said. He couldn't make his feet carry him away from Seb, and it seemed like Seb was rooted to the ground. "We didn't cheat, did we?"
"No, we didn't," Seb said, his voice thick. It took something out of Lewis. It was like after a big crash; it knocked the wind right out of him. "But, Lewis -"
"Don't," Lewis said, more sharply than he meant to. “Whatever you were going to say, don’t say it out loud.”
He watched as Seb's face cycled through grief and acceptance, before landing on a strained smile. Seb hugged him one last time, kissing him on the cheek before pausing, as if surprised by his own daring, and finally waving goodbye.
Nico looped an arm around him when he slipped into bed. "You're back late," he said sleepily.
"Yeah."
"Did you have fun last night?"
“Yeah,” Lewis said. He wished it didn't sound like an admission of guilt.
Out of what Lewis admitted was a overwhelming desire to right some wrongs, he threw himself into planning for their anniversary. They had a hard time saying when the relationship started -was it year ten? Or year twelve? - but they always celebrated on the same day. Lewis booked them a vegan restaurant for their anniversary, all the way out in Cannes. It was about an hour drive, but they made the most of it, turning it into a weekend vacation of sorts. Nico looked surprised, then so pleased, when Lewis brought up the trip, and he almost felt guilty all over again.
They talked less about racing after Lewis’s first championship. Things were weird. It was almost a relief when Seb began dominating in recent years. In a way, it almost felt like they were karting, when they had just been two kids with the same dream, going up against the world. There were fewer disparities between them, and that, conversely, made Lewis feel closer to Nico than ever.
"How long has it been now?" Nico asked, his gaze warm. "Almost ten years? It's crazy how quickly time flies."
"Crazy," Lewis echoed.
Nico had been so nervous, Lewis remembered fondly. The first time they hooked up, Nico had paced around the bed like a startled animal, with one eye on the exit. "I don't want to hurt you," he had said nervously. "If something goes wrong or we break up, I don't want to lose you. This is such a bad idea."
Ten years ago, they had operated on a different wavelength. Lewis had known Nico a little less, and every little thing had felt so exciting. He had watched Nico pace. It had occurred to him, quite suddenly in that moment, that he loved Nico. It had been a ferocious, vicious feeling. Now, he felt like he knew Nico as well as he knew himself, except - Nico kept surprising him. And every little surprise was somewhat disappointing, and the things that Nico did on track felt more like a betrayal. He loved Nico then and he loved Nico now. There was nothing but despair in his heart. What now, he thought. What am I supposed to do now?
"I got you a gift as well," Nico said.
"Nico, we said no gifts!"
"I know, but you'll like this one, I promise." Nico paused for dramatic effect. "You know the new team principal, Toto?"
Lewis didn't know where he was going with this. "Yeah?"
"He wants you on the team."
"Your team?"
Nico nodded. "He's going to send the offer to your lawyers today. I made him wait until our anniversary." This, he said in a sheepish manner.
Lewis felt himself tense. He took another sip of his drink to cover his expression. "How long have you been planning this?"
"Months." Nico's face was quietly proud. "Ever since you told me that you weren't sure if you wanted to stay at McLaren."
"I told you that in confidence."
Nico's smile faded. "Are you mad right now? I don't understand why you're upset."
Lewis fought to keep his temper in check. It was impossible to have a nice night when things derailed in their usual chaotic fashion. "You're so - maybe I wanted to stay at McLaren, did you ever think of that?"
"It's not like I arranged this, I don't have that kind of power."
"Oh, so you're telling me that you didn't push for me when Toto asked for your opinion?"
Nico was silent for a long moment. "I don't know what you want me to say," he said finally. "Of course I said your name when he asked for my opinion. Of course."
Maybe Nico wanted Lewis with him forever. Maybe this was the plan all along. Lewis couldn't deny the appeal. They had always talked about racing together; it was the ultimate dream when they were kids, when they had no understanding of what it meant to be an F1 driver. He couldn't even tell what he was mad about anymore, only that there was a tiredness that he couldn't shake off.
"Even when we were kids, I knew you were going to be special," Nico added. "Dad always said that I needed to choose who I surrounded myself with, and to choose people I trusted. I choose you and I trust you."
He meant to kiss Nico but he couldn't lean across the table without planting his hand in the food. He settled for kissing Nico's hand instead. "I wish you told me," Lewis said honestly.
"Isn't this what you wanted?" Nico's face was open and hurt.
This was what Nico wanted. Every year, he found one additional way to make Lewis his. If Lewis was negligent, if he took his foot off the pedal for a second, he would find himself molded into the career that Nico wanted for him. It was difficult this time, because Nico's proposal wasn't exactly a bad idea. "Let me think about it," Lewis said. "I won't make a decision that'll hurt my career."
"Take your time." Nico smiled with visible effort. "No matter what happens, we'll create our own future."
It was about faith. It was about choice and loyalty and love. In the end, it wasn't much of a choice.
Nico wasn't wrong. He was very often insistent and pushy and over the years, Lewis had learned to put up his own boundaries so he didn't recede inside their relationship, but Nico wasn't wrong. It was a good choice for his career. McLaren was the superior team, but he hadn't won a championship in a while. He listened to Toto's sale pitch and sat on the decision for longer than was probably necessary. At the end of the day, it was an easy choice.
He didn't think about Seb.
He couldn't get into a racecar and battle Seb if he thought about him with any sort of sentimentality. When Lewis felt Seb's gaze on the back of his neck, he didn't turn around. The gap between them had widened. Their strange encounter started to feel like a dream. He couldn't name the feeling in his chest, buried deep inside where he could not reach, only that he never felt that way again. That mix of giddiness and melancholy - the feeling of being seen - was something that only Seb could coax out of him, but it didn't matter. If love was about choice, then he would choose Nico every time.
Part 4: 2015
Lewis held it together for the entire farce of a race, and even for the post race interviews.
He thought about seeing Nico. Thought about calling Nico and demanding an explanation, thought about dredging up every single indignity, everything he had done wrong in the past few years. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't understand how he was supposed to go home to their apartment and sleep in the same bed as Nico.
"Lewis," Seb said. "Talk to me. Should I go get your trainer? Nico?"
"Don't get anyone," Lewis said. He realized he was shaking and willed himself to stop.
"That was a shitty thing Nico did."
"Don't say that," Lewis said sharply.
"I'll say what I like." Seb's tone was light but his eyes were serious.
"You would've done the same thing. Actually, you've done worse."
"Yeah. But I would have regretted it afterwards, if it was towards you."
Maybe Nico regretted it. Maybe he was sitting in their apartment, wondering where Lewis was, wondering if they would spend the night together and eat breakfast in the morning, the way they always did. "You don't know anything about him."
Seb regarded him for a moment. "I can't believe you're still defending him."
Lewis paused: he wasn't quite sure why he was either. "I don't know what I'm doing," he admitted. "Seb, what the fuck am I supposed to do now?"
To his surprise, Seb didn't say anything at all. "Come on," he said finally, "let's get out of here."
It was the same shiver of apprehension. He hadn't done anything wrong, but he thought about it, which was almost just as bad. It was still early in the day when they made their way to a bar two blocks from Seb's hotel, where Seb tried to procure them two drinks.
"I don't drink anymore," Lewis said. "Well, I do, but only on podiums."
Seb nodded, and got them two mocktails instead, complete with little paper umbrellas.
"I shouldn't stay for very long. You know, with the race tomorrow."
"I know."
"And because of -"
"Yeah. I get it."
"So talk me through what happened," Seb said, resting his chin on his hands.
"You saw what happened." He didn't have more information than Seb had. What happened was this: Nico had put in a lap for Q3 and then immediately parked the car in the middle of the track, ending the session and Lewis's chance of getting pole. He hadn't talked to Nico since then. "It's not even a big deal by racing standards. It's a dirty move. People do worse all the time, but we promised not to do that shit to each other."
Seb studied his face. "It must have been a surprise."
"Yeah." Lewis looked down at his luridly pink drink. "I thought we didn't play games with each other, but maybe that was naive of me."
Seb shrugged, like he agreed but didn't want to say it out loud. "I think it's difficult when you're teammates. It's like a mini race in itself. You always want to be ahead of your teammate, although most of us don't have to resort to dirty tricks."
It was Nico, though. Lewis wouldn't have been nearly as mad if it had been Fernando or Jenson. It only hurt because it was Nico. That was the fucking problem. At fourteen, Nico had drawn up a twenty year plan for the two of them, making Lewis promise to become an F1 driver. That was the fucking worst part of it. He loved Nico but he couldn't trust him. It felt like he was a child who was just now learning the ways of the world. He was alone and he had always been alone; he had just managed to fool himself for a little while.
"I need to end things," Lewis said. "I need to draw the line somewhere."
"I understand," Seb said, and his eyes shone.
Lewis took a shaky breath. "I miss how simple things used to be. Remember when we first met? Things were so much simpler when we were kids."
“I think about it sometimes," Seb said.
“Yeah?” Lewis gave him a watery smile. "Which part?"
“I should’ve done something that night,” Seb said, matter-of-fact. “That night we got very drunk and talked all night.”
"Seb," Lewis hissed. "That wasn't - we weren't -"
"It meant a lot to me." Seb shook his head stubbornly. "Didn't it mean something to you?"
The worst part was that he hadn't even been that drunk. Seb might have been drunk, but he had been sober. There had been no clouding of judgment when Lewis had walked into Seb's hotel room and put on his clothes and lay on his bed, nothing to blame when he held Seb's hand through Seb's favorite song. Years later, he had scrounged up the lyrics from the dusty corners of his brain and typed them into Google. That was how deep the delusion went. It had awakened something inside him when he felt alone and couldn't talk to Nico about it. Sometimes, when he listened to the song, it felt like he could still feel Seb's hand in his.
Yes, he had thought about it. "You know the answer to that," Lewis mumbled.
"I should've taken you somewhere, maybe to Switzerland or somewhere new. We should've run away together," Seb said, heedless.
“Run away - this isn’t a movie,” Lewis laughed.
Seb smiled back. "I used to think it would be the start of something, but nothing changed in the end."
Lewis looked down at his hands. It was his fault. He stayed away from Seb whenever he could. They still interacted occasionally on the track, but Seb's texts went unanswered and after a while, Seb stopped trying. He was so scared of this dormant, terrifying longing that only emerged around Seb. It was a secret, potent power that Seb wielded with ease.
"Just tell me, do you love him? Are you happy?"
Lewis could only laugh and rest his forehead against the sticky table. The answers flew around his mind. He had just enough mental fortitude to keep it from Seb, who would exploit it like a weakness, even if he did not mean to. It didn't matter. Seb leaned back in his chair, his chin tilted up defiantly, like he knew the answer.
By the time he made it back home, it was that time of night when drunk racegoers were stumbling home from the parties and after parties, too inebriated to notice him weaving past them on the sidewalk. He thought Nico would be out - a Monaco GP win usually led to the sort of alcohol fueled all-nighter that took days to recover from - but when he opened the front door, Ncio was sitting on the couch, his entire body diffused in shadow.
Lewis turned the light on. "Why are you sitting in the dark?"
"Where were you?" Nico asked, ignoring him.
"Where were you?"
"I was out with the team. I didn't see you there."
Lewis barely managed to hold in his laugh. It was torn out of him, twisted and rotten as it was. "Why would I go out with team after that shitshow of a race."
"It's part of being on a team." Nico looked at him like he was crazy. "Don't you owe it to people to show up for them?"
Lewis held back the sudden burst of laughter that almost escaped. The reason he never left Nico was because of love, but a small, not insignificant part of it was because of gratitude. How fucked up was that? Snippets from the past entered his mind: their ragtag little karting team formed with Nico's money, the apartment search in Monaco that Nico had helped facilitate. He guessed he owed Nico as well. "Let's just go to sleep," he said tiredly.
Nico examined him closely, but didn't protest. Together they lay in bed, side by side, and it felt like he was lying next to a stranger. The night was still young, and he could hear the rowdy sounds of people on the street celebrating the race. It was easier to be near Nico when Lewis couldn't see his face.
"Do you want to go see my parents next weekend?" Nico asked tentatively, a disembodied voice that echoed in the dark. "I think my dad would love to see you."
"Sure," Lewis said shortly, then sighed. "Where did they want to meet?"
Nico started going on about a new Italian restaurant that his dad was fond of, one that sourced its own mozzarella from organic farms in Italy. Lewis tuned him out.
Once, when Lewis had been sixteen or seventeen years old, he had sprained his wrist in an accident that happened on track. He had been unused to driving real cars, and hadn't braced himself when his car had crashed into the barriers. He had been so scared, and then later, when his wrist had been healing, he had been so worried that the extended healing time would put a dent in his career plans. Nico had spent the entire time fusing over him, distracting him from his neverending anxiety, making sure that he was never in need of anything.
Where did that Nico go? Or was it he himself that had changed? He imagined being with Seb, and his heart soared. It didn't feel like Seb had replaced Nico - that was what made this so difficult. His regard for Seb had only strengthened and deepened with time. He hid his face in his hands, grateful that Nico couldn't see his expression. His throat felt tight.
"I can't do this anymore," he said finally.
"Do what?" Nico asked, confusion evident in his tone.
"We need to - end things, I suppose. Break up."
"Are you cheating on me?" Nico asked immediately. "Did you meet someone?"
"No."
"I don't believe you."
He was so tired. He wasn't even sure how he lasted this long, he was so tired. "I don't care if you believe me," he said. It was the sort of thing designed to wound, and he would not have voiced it if he hadn't been so desperate to end things.
The light turned on, blinding him for a second. When his vision cleared, Nico was studying him desperately. Lewis blinked back the sudden tears in his eyes.
"Is this because of what happened today," Nico tried again, "because that's just racing."
"It isn't just racing though," Lewis said automatically. Grief clouded his mind. Nico never really understood what racing meant to him, this great, terrible sport that has swallowed both of them up. What happened on the track mattered arguably more than any kind deed or expensive gift.
"How long have you been thinking about this?"
"Not long."
"Sleep on it - you're probably just tired from the race, I know it takes a lot out of you."
"I'm not going to change my mind."
Nico flinched as if he had dealt a body blow. “Don’t you love me?” he asked.
“I do love you,” Lewis grasped his hands loosely. “I love you, but I don’t love you. Does that make sense?”
“No, it really fucking doesn't.”
"I need to -" Lewis took a deep breath, and a sob almost slipped out. "I need to figure out what I want in my life."
"And that's not me anymore?" Lewis didn't say anything. He didn't need to. Nico's face twisted.“You’ve never cared about anything but racing, it’s always been fucking racing. I don't even know if you realize how special this was. You’ll go the rest of your life trying to find what we had. You'll regret this.”
“I might,” Lewis admitted. "Nico, I might." He squeezed Nico's lax hands. "But I have to try."
Interlude: Seb at a crossroads
He had met the girl at school.
Hanna was pretty, sweet, and from the Heppenheim area. They were in a few classes together in grade school, but he didn’t really see her again until he was a teenager. When they finally caught up, it was so clear to him that she had a purpose in life. She was big on the environment. There were only twenty years left before they were irrevocably fucked, she told him as she organized climate change rally after climate change rally
She was much cooler than him and deserved better, but he was so glad that she gave him a chance. He had the sort of job that made him a particularly shitty boyfriend, but she was supportive, even if it meant that he was away from home for half the year. They got into arguments sometimes, about the use of fossil fuels in F1 and Enron and alternative energy, but he loved her.
He was happy. He was racing. Then, the world tilted off its axis when Lewis caught his eye after the 2007 Bahrain GP.
He couldn't remember how things had devolved. For a while, it seemed as if Lewis looked right through him. Sometimes, it seemed as if Lewis was a ghost of a person, always hanging around the premises, always in Rosberg's shadow. They got older and the strain settled somewhere between Lewis's eyebrows, even as their allegiances changed. Seb joined Red Bull, Lewis joined Mercedes. A few racers joined the sport, a few more left. It was the same old song and dance.
Lewis grew bolder, prettier. He was the prettiest man that Seb had ever seen. It was impossible to know how Lewis felt, because he was careful not to even glance Seb's way when they were alone. He liked Lewis; so fucking what. He liked his girlfriend more. It was just like that sometimes, and it mattered, more than ever, that he be a good man, whatever that entailed.
He didn't text Lewis. They didn't talk. That was just the way of the world, or so he thought until he saw Lewis at the club after a race in Monaco.
Part 5: 2017
They moved in together, or more specifically, Seb moved into his place. Lewis moved back into his own apartment in Monaco, and Seb's things started migrating into his cabinets. Things were moving too fast. Lewis knew it, but when he was around Seb, all sense seemed to fly out the window.
It was different. Not bad, but different. It was like he had lost a part of himself, and he was trying to find himself in the ruins. It was tough without Nico, but it was much easier when he could go back to his apartment and see all the things he loved. That he could go home and see his own furniture, the beautiful tufted couch and oak coffee table, where Seb would sit and do his crosswords, was a source of great joy. It was such a relief to have his own space, which was one of the only places in the world that he could go for some peace. Lewis was still stuck on the same team, still working in the same industry as an ex who desperately wanted to see him fail. He raced as hard as he could, and anytime he made the mistake of looking at Nico after a race, he felt his expression fracture and twist. Nico's face was never far from rage.
Things had certainly been worse. He'd certainly been unhappier. When he walked out into the balcony of his apartment, a different landscape greeted him. Ice blue clouds drifted across the pier, rolling slowly towards the coast. Overgrown vines curled up the side of the building. He always liked this apartment. He didn't know why he had ever moved into Nico's.
Lewis leaned to kiss Seb on the cheek and landed somewhere in the vicinity of his lower lip. He was sinking into Seb before he knew it, dragging his hands over Seb like a man possessed. It was intoxicating to be surrounded by Seb, feeling the way that they fit together. Being a race car driver didn't give them a lot of time. Lewis's days were usually occupied with racing, strategy planning, traveling, and thinking about all the various ways that he could scrape every single point out of a race. When he was with Seb though, he felt almost starved for Seb's attention and love.
Seb's phone buzzed in his pocket, and he groaned. "Just a minute," Seb said, then pulled away. "Is it okay if Jenson comes over for dinner tonight? He's probably calling to arrange a time. He wants to see the new place."
Lewis nodded. Oh, he thought with increasing nervousness. He hadn't really talked to Jenson since he had broken up with Nico. For a while, he saw Jenson around the paddock with Nico, the two of them talking over the barrier in the media pen. He had assumed that he had lost Jenson, in a way. In some ways, it still felt like he and Nico were the two nodes around which their friends revolved around. Or maybe he had been swept into Nico's orbit just like everyone else, handpicked and lifted out of obscurity, and when he had left Nico, he had also left everyone else behind. "Should I leave?" he asked uncertainly.
Seb's expression shifted minutely. "Lewis, he wants to see both of us."
He swallowed hard. "It's been a while," he laughed. "I don't know why I'm so nervous."
"I'll be with you," Seb said, his smile softening.
It was a perfect afternoon. Seb leaned against the doorway, his hands deep in his pockets. The day was still young. Outside the wind scraped along the windows. He closed his eyes. Seb traced the ridges of his jaw to his bellybutton with his open hand. Everything felt good and nothing hurt. He wrapped his arms around Seb and hung on, not for any functional reason and purely because he wanted to. A slice of light from the curtains slanted gradually towards the wall. It took him a while for his breath to even out.
Seb's eyes were overly bright. "I'm so happy. Could you ever have imagined being this happy?"
It was only the post-orgasmic delirium talking. He couldn't stop touching Seb's hair, which was so soft and fanned out gently on the bed. "I can't believe you wanted this, after all this time. I'm sorry I made you wait."
Afterwards, they ordered food in a hurry, although it was quite obvious what they had been doing. When Jenson saw them, he grinned. "I see what you lovebirds have been getting up to."
Seb smacked his arm, although he looked quietly pleased. "Be normal, will you?"
"Easier said than done, mate."
Jenson's eyes traveled from their joined hands to the living room, where Seb's things had made their home. Lewis shifted and squeezed Seb's hand, almost without meaning to. "It looks good," he said finally.
Seb huffed. "Well now that you've given your assessment, can we finally eat?"
Lewis laughed and went back to the kitchen to grab some plates. They had finally gotten a dinnerware set in this apartment for the first time in his life. When he moved back, there was almost nothing in it except for furniture and a few pieces of clothing that he had forgotten about. It was only now that he was learning how to inhabit his own space. He turned back towards the living room and heard the bad whisperings of conversations he wasn't meant to overhear and felt himself stutter to a halt.
"- are you doing?"
"I like him, isn't that enough?"
"You can't date your rival, especially not Nico's ex-"
"He's not Nico's property." Seb's voice was sharp enough to cut. "He can make his own decisions."
There was a hushed whisper that Lewis couldn't make out, and he couldn't stand it any longer. When he rounded the corner, Jenson looked quietly guilty and Seb defiant
Dinner was a lively affair. The restaurant that Seb had been talking about turned out to be an Italian restaurant that Lewis had been frequenting since he was twenty. They all declared it delicious, which brought a pink tint to Seb's cheeks. After they ate, they split a tub of ice cream between the three of them, sprawled out in the living room.
"Let me do the dishes," Jenson said suddenly.
"You're the guest here," Seb said, clearly nonplussed.
"No, it's fine, it's not a big deal" Jenson stood up and brushed the front of his jeans with his hands. "Lewis, can you help me?"
They were silent as Lewis washed and scrubbed each plate. Music filtered in from the living room, where Seb had presumably set up the speakers. Jenson's face was serious and handsome, like an old movie star. Lewis didn't look his way. He was just about to rinse off the first plate when Jenson said, "You look happier."
"I am happier," Lewis said evenly. "Is this where you warn me off Seb and tell me not to break his heart?"
"Don't be silly," Jenson said, his head tilted to the side. It was as if he was seeing Lewis for the first time, or in a new light. "You're all my friends."
Lewis placed his soapy hands on the counter and hung his head. He could not help but remember the conversation earlier, and the honest worry on Jenson's voice. "You must think I'm a horrible person, don't you," Lewis said lightly. "I dumped one racer for another. I broke Nico's heart, you know? I know he loved me and I did it anyway."
When Lewis finally managed to look at him, Jenson's eyebrows were furrowed with real concern. "I respect the way you take control of your life," Jenson said carefully. "You know what you want. I think there's something commendable about that."
It was very strange, the gap between how he saw himself and how he was perceived. He'd never had control over his decisions; in his mind, he had no other choice. "Thanks, I guess."
"You're welcome, I guess," Jenson parroted back, then ducked when Lewis flung some soap suds at him. "If anything, it's Seb's fault. He's been hounding you for forever. I suppose it was just a surprise when you reciprocated his feelings."
"Seb hasn't been hounding me," Lewis laughed.
Jenson carefully wiped a plate dry and put it in the drying rack. Then, he glanced at Lewis with a sort of studied lightness. "I'm not sure if he realized that he was doing it. He's always liked you."
Lewis remembered, quite suddenly, that Seb had been in a relationship as well. This was kind of uncomfortable to think about. They had both caused so much pain, and yet, he was the happiest that he had been in years. It was something to analyze later. Jenson patted his arm sympathetically. It was all incredibly embarrassing. There was something about it that felt like - a wellness check, or something like it.
They didn't talk about Nico all night. Instead, they reminisced about their younger years as teammates, and how annoyingly good Seb had been at Red Bull. As their circles grew smaller and smaller, younger drivers were coming out of the woodwork. There was a strange solidarity in being of an older generation. They were sharper and meaner than any of the younger drivers combined. The apartment was warm and filled with laughter.
"Take care of yourself, would you?" Jenson said as he left, slinging an arm around him.
"I will," Lewis said, leaning into the hug.
"And take care of him." Jenson slung his head towards Seb, who was deep asleep on the couch, his head tilted all the way back, snuffling slightly. Seb was getting older, which meant that he conked out on the sofa after a glass of wine, no matter what time it was. "He's more delicate than he looks. There won't be anyone else to look out for him after we leave."
"After we leave the sport?" Lewis asked disbelievingly. "That's still years away."
"You've got to think about the big picture," Jenson said, tapping his temple. "He's a few years younger. He'll probably stick it out for longer than both of us."
A chill shot up his spine. "That's still years away," he repeated.
Jenson studied his face, then smiled. "I guess so." He checked his watch and yawned. "I've gotta get going, but I'll see you at the next race."
Lewis put it out of his mind. Everything else faded away when he raced. He was lucky that he had someone to come home to, someone he really loved. He focused on racing and pushed Seb into the sheets later that night. He had almost done the impossible task of forgetting what had been said when Jenson announced his retirement a few months later.
Part 6: 2019
"Good job, Lewis," Bono said, patting him on the back. "We'll come back strong for the next race."
"Thanks," Lewis said.
There were no congratulatory drinks for second place. He hung out in the hospitality unit until the sky began to grow dim, a deep, hazy blue that swallowed up the entire track. Then, he went back to the hotel and lay on the neatly made bed. He didn't have intricate rules with Seb the way he used to have with Nico. He had spent entire race weekends with Seb without a single pointed remark being said, sleeping next to each other every night. Only, of course, one of them was usually P1 and the other P2. One was always out celebrating, while the other waited in bed, alone.
It was always after races, he thought. One way or another, he always found himself alone. He wished that he didn't feel like he was floating; he needed something to anchor him in time. Through his headphones, the soft sounds drowned out his thoughts. He listened to the one song on repeat, the one that Seb had played that night. It wasn't at all the sort of music he usually liked to listen to. Perhaps that was why it had stuck in his mind for so long. It reminded him of Seb and that night, of all the reasons why he made the choices he had made.
The song faded away and restarted again, and he closed his eyes. He could almost picture it - the sweet anticipation, the familiarity. It had been so easy to fall in love. It was still so easy. He drifted over the edge into a dream where he had no doubts in his mind and his heart was full.
A gentle hand on his ears woke him.
"Sorry," Seb whispered. "I was just taking off your AirPods."
Lewis hummed. He was so warm. Against his chest, he could feel Seb's heart beat steadily. "You're back late," he said, snuggling against Seb's arm. "Did you have fun with your team?"
"Yeah," Seb said, sounding miles away.
Together they slipped back into sleep.
It was at the next race that he spied a familiar face in the Ferrari garage.
She didn't look older at all. It was as if time hadn't touched her. She was indistinguishable from his memories, with the same blond hair and open smile, but he still didn't know anything about her. Seb didn't talk about her and Lewis didn't talk about Nico. It was an unspoken rule of theirs that worked well for the both of them.
He couldn't tell if he was upset about her presence in the garage. Later, he did half a session of strength training with Angela as he contemplated the thought. Perhaps part of the relationship was accepting things that he couldn't change, which was that Seb was the sort of man who was still friends with his exes. He was so violently jealous, not of Seb's ex, but of the relationship they had in the first place. He hadn't talked to Nico in almost two years.
He thought about that girl, Hanna, sometimes, although he wished he didn't. When Seb bought flowers on the way home or when he cooked a particularly delicious meal, Lewis couldn't help but wonder if Seb had learned it from her. Sometimes he wondered - did he steal Seb away or did Seb leave? Was there a distinction to be made at all? He wished he felt sorrier than he did.
He finished up with Angela and went back to the hotel, where he grabbed dinner with Seb. They ate around the tiny little table on the balcony overlooking the city, and the wind was strong enough that it threatened to blow their napkins away.
"It's good that we can eat like this," Seb said. He looked more beautiful like this, a little tired but still running high from adrenaline. "I haven't seen you all day."
"Yeah, it is." Lewis smiled and took another bite.
"How do you feel?"
"A little tired. The practice sessions are harder in warm weather, but I don't feel too bad."
They talked about the usual things - their schedules, the race, the swell and flow of the cars over the curb in turn three. They sat together in silence for a moment, until Lewis said, "Earlier in the garage today, was that -"
"Yeah."
"I don't know why you keep inviting her to races," Lewis said. "I don't mind, of course, but it puts me in a difficult position."
"She's a friend."
"I know she's a friend, I'm just saying it feels weird."
"It can't be helped," Seb said, sympathetic but firm. "If she's still interested in watching the races, then I would never kick her out of the garage."
"I'm not asking you to do anything," Lewis said, although he did wonder about it later, when he thought back on the conversation.
Seb sighed and looked out into the horizon, his mouth tense. Lewis hated that he was the one who had put that expression on Seb's face. "Your ex comes to every race to interview me. You don't think it's strange for me as well?" Seb said finally.
Logically, he knew that Seb was right; emotionally, it hit him like a blow to the chest. In his mind he thought about how he had given up everything he knew and loved for Seb. Of course he couldn't say that aloud. It wasn't even true. "I'm sorry," he said. There wasn't much else to say.
Seb sighed. The wind ruffled his hair gently. In the distance, a light turned on in a building across the street. In the darkness, the lights shone like lanterns hovering in space. “Maybe you should try trusting me," Seb said.
It was only when he was In bed, with Seb snuffling lightly next to him, that he allowed himself to wonder if this was what Nico had felt when he had first started pulling away. It wasn't even that Seb was pulling away from him, but he felt the distance now more than ever. He wondered why he felt as though he had been complicit in a dramatic betrayal. It was clear that Hanna didn't think so, if she kept visiting Seb's garage. Eventually, he thought about trust and love and what that meant for him. He couldn't control Seb and he didn't want to. In his mind, he was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.
He was on the treadmill, working up a light sweat, when he heard a familiar face on the TV mounted in the corner, and he quickly pulled out his AirPods.
"- he's just a man who passionately hates losing to his teammates," Nico said with the air of someone who had provided a critical piece of information. His hair was a little thinner at the temples and he was more tan than Lewis had ever seen him, but he looked good.
"Lewis wouldn't have too much personal experience in that, I'd imagine," a commentator said.
"Oh, he was furious when I beat him for the championship in 2016."
Lewis snorted, and then felt abruptly grateful that he didn't work out in public anymore. What he remembered the most from 2016 was that Nico couldn't look at him for more than five seconds at a time. If Lewis had been furious, he wasn't sure if Nico would've noticed.
"I'm sure Lewis is doing all he can to convince Toto to keep Valtteri for the next few years," Nico continued. "And besides, there are no drivers of Lewis's caliber."
"Not even Sebastian Vettel?"
"Especially not Sebastian. He's not even half the driver that Lewis is."
There was a smattering of nervous laughter around the commentary booth. "I think you're being a bit harsh there, Nico. Sebastian is second in the championship and could very well beat Lewis this season."
"He's certainly not a bad driver," Nico relented, "but I think he's facing retirement soon. I would love to see him follow in my footsteps in terms of sustainability and activism."
Lewis laughed again; he couldn't help it. Unfortunately for him, he'd always found Nico's antics funny, even when he was blindingly angry at him. At one point in his life, it had been charming, but now it felt like Nico was fighting to stay relevant, speaking of Seb when no one really asked him to. It was embarrassing to Lewis, but highly entertaining to the audience, he guessed, since Nico was always invited on the broadcast. Unlike Jenson, who seemed to become more likeable with every word, it felt as if Nico alienated people with every word.
"You don't think Max Verstappen or Lando Norris could keep up with him?"
"No," Nico said instantly. "Maybe in a few years, Lewis will be a worse driver. Then there is a chance."
Still insufferable, Lewis thought. Still with that awful sense of humor and strangely competitive nature that was out of place with sports broadcasting.
It was such a surprise how fond he felt about Nico still. He had gotten out of the car in 2016 and thought - never again. Never again would he let Nico into his life, never again would Nico darken his door. Even before Seb had whisked him off for drinks, he knew that it was over. When he looked at Nico now, he saw a different face made fuller with retirement and idle time, desperate for success in the strange world of sports broadcasting. Nico looked like a stranger, and that made his comments easier to bear.
Maybe Lewis was becoming kinder and more forgiving. Maybe he was getting older. Lewis laughed again and went back to the treadmill. With his AirPods in, he ran in time to the beat. Nico kept talking in the corner of his eye, but Lewis didn't pay him any attention. He already knew what Nico was going to say.
Lewis was by the side of the garage, trying to peel his race suit off of his upper body.
“Lewis, a word?” Jenson asked. He was dressed in a sports jacket and the tightest pair of jeans he had seen on this side of the Atlantic.
Lewis felt like sweating, just looking at him. "I'm not doing any interviews right now."
"This isn't about that," Jenson said, and he couldn't conceal the urgency in his voice. “How have you been?"
"Yeah, good, still chugging along," Lewis said. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong , just - have you talked to Nico recently?”
Lewis fixed him a look. "Why would I talk to Nico?"
"Yeah, that's what I thought," Jenson mumbled, his shoulders hunched. "Just forget about it."
"What's wrong with Nico?" Lewis demanded.
Jenson hesitated. "I think he's struggling a bit."
Lewis swallowed the burst of alarm. "What do you mean?"
"Well, racing is his whole life. Oh, you know what I mean," Jenson added when Lewis huffed. "The whole point of retirement is that you get to attend races for fun and you find other things that you like. You know, you relax. I don't know if you've talked to him recently, but he's not relaxed."
"That's just how he is," Lewis said, and then bit his lip. He couldn't believe he was defending Nico.
"Okay, but he's taking it too far. Have you seen him recently?"
"Yeah, he was on TV, he looked fine."
"He looks fine in stage makeup, but have you seen him in person?"
"I -" Lewis trailed off.
"Maybe next time he reaches out, you can talk to him?" Jenson said hesitantly.
"I don't know," Lewis said uncertainly. "What is there to say?"
"Just think about it," Jenson said. "I think he would appreciate a friend."
It was actually embarrassing that Jenson was the one who had noticed it first.
Once he looked, it was difficult to ignore. Nico had a strange, manic energy when he ran around the track. He had never seen Nico look like that before, and he had seen almost every single iteration that had existed in the last two decades. To be fair, he was sure that Nico had never seen Lewis look the way he did, either. Lewis had been getting more involved in fashion recently, which had resulted in more fashion week invitations and magazine covers. He no longer worried about whether he belonged in the sport or whether the investors liked him. Every day, Nico had faded a little more in his mind, until Jenson had dragged him back into Lewis's periphery.
He should've said something, maybe. Told Jenson not to talk about Nico again. Told him that it wasn't his job to worry about Nico.
"What was it that Jenson wanted me to do anyways?" he grumbled to Seb later. "I did my job, didn't I?"
Seb massaged a kink out of Lewis's shoulder. He gave a noncommittal smile but otherwise stayed silent.
Maybe it was wrong to ask his current boyfriend about his ex. There had to be some sort of rule against it.
Lewis went home and thought about it, then thought about it some more. He remembered Nico's friends, some of whom were really nice, some of whom were vapid and shallow. Had Nico been close to any of them? He couldn't remember anything but how he felt around them, which was uncomfortable and so lonely. Surely Nico had friends he could rely on. Even Lewis had other people - Seb, Angela, even Toto. But even as he thought it, the fear came over his mind; would he have them if he quit racing? Was that what Jenson had been talking about?
"God damnit," he muttered, and picked up his phone.
Hey, he sent.
So you're finally talking to me now? The text came instantly.
He sighed. No one managed to irritate him the way Nico still managed to. For a second, he thought about blocking Nico's number and calling it a day, but then he thought about Jenson's drawn, tight face. Fine, he thought resignedly. For Jenson.
Just tell me if you're okay, he texts back. People are worried about you.
There, he thought. He'd fulfilled his obligations and cohld go to sleep easy tonight. He checked his phone periodically throughout the night, but a reply never came. His phone was a heavy weight in his pocket the next morning, when he finally saw Nico in person for an interview at the track.
They were waiting for the cameras to start rolling in the media pen, or more accurately, they were waiting for Lewis's turn. He knew that the cameras were probably pointed towards them anyways, and fought to keep his face still.
Nico raised his eyebrows. "You were worried about me?"
"Other people were worried about you," Lewis clarified
He didn't say it to hurt Nico, but he knew that it would. Sure enough, Nico's smile dimmed. He looked like he was on the verge of tears. Lewis cursed himself for what he was about to do, cursed his own stupidity and soft heart, before he said, "Is everything okay?"
"Of course," Nico sniffed.
"Really."
"Why do you care?"
Nico felt so unbelievably distant. Like a stranger. Like someone Lewis hadn't loved and held within his heart for over a decade. It was almost too much to comprehend. He sighed heavily. "You have people to talk to, don't you? I just want to make sure you aren't - alone, or whatever."
Nico looked caught between outrage and something deeply emotional that Lewis didn't want to delve into. "I'm fine," Nico said, but his mouth quirked up. "It's just been a hard transition. I don't know what to do with my time anymore. And the person I used to talk about things with kicked me out of their life."
Lewis inhaled sharply. His refused to apologize, but it didn't make him feel any better. "I hope things go better," he said instead.
"I do too," Nico said ruefully. "I'm not saying that I didn't deserve it. It was just bad timing, that's all."
Part 7: 2020
It was around their cohabitation during COVID when things began shifting again.
The first thing that happened was that Susie started bringing Jack over whenever she needed a break from childcare. who occasionally came to the race track with giant earmuffs and a custom onesie emblazoned with Lewis's name. Then Jenson had another baby, which meant that Lewis started seeing pictures of him and the child everywhere. Even Nico had children now. Frequency bias, Angela called it. When he noticed something, it was easy to notice it more often, which in turn made it easy to think that it was more common than it was. She had been talking about race losses. He never imagined that it would apply to children as well.
"I can't believe we have to buy birthday gifts for babies," Seb grumbled. "It's too much. How many birthday parties do we have on the calendar now? A solid twenty percent of these parties are for babies."
"We can just stockpile gifts," Lewis said, peering over Seb's shoulder. "I'm sure parents always appreciate supplies."
"Like diapers?" Seb's nose wrinkled.
"Sure, but also clothing and pacifiers. You know, cute things, although I'm sure they'll appreciate diapers as well."
Seb hummed and jotted something down on his shopping list. "Did you ever think about kids?"
"Not really," Lewis said. "It's too - it's too early. I want them to be the most important thing in my life, and that's not going to happen if I'm an F1 driver."
"I don't want kids," Seb said. "The environmental cost of kids is too high. I don't want to bring kids into the world if we can't save the world first."
Both relief and disappointment rolled in his stomach. "That makes sense."
Seb looked at him nervously. "I don't want to pressure you one way or another."
"You're not," Lewis assured him. "I'm happy being with you."
"I love you," Seb said. "If you're in my life, then I don't need anyone else."
It wasn't as if racing had taken a backseat, at least for him. There was so much to do. He still wanted a sixth championship, and he wanted a fifth championship for Seb. Children hadn't even factored in until recently.
It was surprising that he hadn't thought about it until now. One day, he looked up and it felt like everyone else had grown up, while he was still stuck in adolescence. He readily admitted that he hadn't even considered the concept of children until he met Seb, and then it was all he could think about. He didn't want children if they weren't with Seb. He wanted the hypothetical children to have the best parts of them - his determination and Seb's clarity in seeing the world. He wanted them to grow up surrounded by love, whether that did or didn't include racing.
It was scary to imagine the end. He thought about leaving everything behind and starting a new life with Seb, one where they were equals and unknown to their neighbors. He thought about never sitting in a race car ever again, only going to the track to provide commentary for a race or two; thought about how the only glory he would ever feel would be from the other side of the media pen. He could stomach it, for Seb, and for the imaginary children, whom he loved already.
He wouldn't do it without Seb. If Seb didn't want children, then that was that. He mourned the idea of them, just for a second and without any true sadness, and moved on with his life.
He had bigger things to worry about. Things were just incredibly difficult. It was hard racing against Nico, but it was harder with Seb, who hated losing. Of course, everybody hated losing, but when Seb was losing, he did dumb shit. Random moments of road rage left them sleeping in different rooms at night. Seb always looked like he was going to cry the next morning. Maybe he would have if Lewis didn't forgive him every time. It became repetitive though. Last season, he had broken Seb's front wing, and Seb brake checked him the next race.
"I'm sorry," Seb said later, when Lewis could stand to look at him. "I'm so sorry, you don't know how sorry I am. I looked at the data, and I know I was wrong."
Lewis didn't need to look at numbers to know how he felt; he didn't need data to know when he was wrong. It was moments like this when he felt very far away from everyone else in his life. He could only give Seb a tepid sort of smile. There was always the next race, the next season. He could only look towards the future. He did not want to step back into a past self, and even through the haze of anger he felt towards Seb, he thought about how he couldn't go through this again, how he refused go through this again. It was the same problem in a different light.
He went to the supermarket to buy some eggs for Seb, and realized abruptly that he hadn't gone shopping in a while. They usually relied on a grocery service to deliver food, and he hadn't spent this much time in Monaco in recent years. Seb was spending more and more time in Switzerland, where he was left undisturbed by strangers on the street. Sometimes Lewis thought about packing up and joining him there, but he refused to shape his life around another person. It was imperfect, but they tried to make it work.
Seb was in town this week after a race week in Italy. It was good that they were able to spend some time together after so long, but his apartment was starting to feel a bit unfamiliar. Lewis looked at the display of cartons and sighed. He was still studying the display when he felt a touch on his elbow.
"Lewis, hey," Nico said, smiling softly.
"Hey," Lewis said with real surprise.
"How are you?"
"Great, how are things with you? How's the broadcasting business going?"
"It's going amazing, we're planning a new segment for the upcoming season." Nico's face shone with excitement.
"How are the kids?" Lewis asked. He had seen pictures of them on Instagram occasionally.
"Great." Nico smiled, and it transformed his whole face. "The girls are into figure skating now."
It wasn't awkward at all. It was actually strange how natural it felt to talk to Nico. He looked great, too - like a man in his thirties who enjoyed his life. It was a far cry from how he used to look, so feverishly desperate to be involved in racing. A secret little part of Lewis's chest hurt.
"I'm glad you're doing well," Lewis said, and he meant it too.
"Do you want to grab coffee or something?" Nico scratched his ear, and uncertainty flickered on his face for the first time.
Lewis hesitated, but it was Nico, who didn't mean as much to him anymore, and therefore didn't have the capacity to hurt him. "Sure," he said.
The coffee shop Nico took him to was starkly minimal, with only five items on the menu. He ordered the only decaf option on the menu and sat in the corner booth, half hidden by a giant potted fern. Nico paid for his coffee and sat down across from him.
"How's Sebastian doing?" Nico asked casually, his fingers gripping his cup tightly.
"He's doing great." He was doing just okay, truthfully. The stint at Ferrari just wasn't working out, and there were rumors that Kimi might be out of a seat next season, but Nico didn't need to know that.
Nico's lips tensed into a thin line. "That's good."
Lewis stared at him. "Are you still mad at him?"
"Lewis," Nico said, his voice warm and so condescending. "I'll be mad at him for the rest of my life. He's lucky I haven't leapt over the commentary booth to fight him."
"You're an awful fighter," Lewis managed to say.
"You never know," Nico said distantly. He took another sip of his drink.
This was an extremely bad idea, Lewis realized, the sort of bad idea he thought he had grown out of. His instincts were rusty. He had only wanted to catch up, without any sort of understanding of what that might entail, but there was no part of their weighted history that was safe to traverse. He was trying to force something that never should’ve happened. “It was me, you know,” Lewis said. “I was the one who left.”
"Did you start sleeping with Sebastian when we were together?" Nico asked.
"No, I didn't." He was ridiculously, absurdly grateful that he could say that, at least.
"But you fell in love with him while we were together, didn't you? I felt it during the 2014 season. It was like you weren't really there anymore."
It was earlier, he thought. God help him, it was earlier than that. It started in 2010, when Seb caught his eye from across the club, or even earlier, when Seb made him laugh for the first time. "I didn’t mean to,” Lewis said in a small voice. It was a relief to say it out loud. ”Are you mad at me?"
"Are you mad at me?" Nico countered.
"No."
“Then no, I’m not mad.” Nico took a sip of his coffee and eyed him warily. "It's the same old shit, isn't it? It happened so long ago but I can't stop thinking about it. It makes me feel so old."
Lewis snorted. "You're one year younger than me."
"It's different for you," Nico said, not without some resentment. "You're always trying something new. I quit racing and found out that I only like doing the same thing over and over. I only have this life and this career that no one cares about."
"That's not true," Lewis said urgently. "You've got your commentating job and your FE team. I've always admired your ambition."
Nico stretched an arm over the back of his chair. "Don't get me wrong, this is a nice life. I like my job and my team, but nothing excites me like it did in my twenties."
Lewis stayed silent. He couldn't relate. Sometimes it felt like he was being torn away from racing; there was only so much time and so many things he wanted to do. "There's got to be more."
"More?"
"I don't know, more stuff ." Lewis flung an arm out and almost knocked his cup off the table. "There has to be more than racing. I didn't even know you liked racing that much."
"I didn't."
"Then what's the problem?" Lewis asked exasperatedly.
"Don't you get the feeling sometimes that the most exciting thing in your life already happened?" Nico laughed ruefully when Lewis shook his head. "Figures. You've always led a more exciting life."
They migrated over to Nico's giant house in the hills, a three story structure that was giant by Monaco standard. Inside the house, there were signs of life. A little pile of tiny shoes greeted him at the door, and he toed off his sneakers and placed them by the wall. The house was gorgeous and warm. It smelled good, like those expensive candles that Nico adored. Nico swanned past him and stretched out on the giant tufted couch in the living room. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” Lewis said.
"It’s okay. I fucked up so badly." Nico said. To Lewis's everlasting relief, he didn't seem torn up about it, only mildly regretful. “I wish I got to show you how amazing you are."
Lewis shifted uncomfortably. "Don’t say things like that."
“I think if you were less unhappy, then you wouldn’t have looked elsewhere. I don’t think I realized how unhappy you were. I’m not sure if you realized it either.”
“I wasn’t unhappy.”
“Liar,” Nico laughed, his eyes overly bright. “So what’s next for you?” Nico asked. “Retirement? Kids?”
Lewis fought not to roll his eyes. He remembered the good times as clearly as he remembered the bad. He didn’t know why he felt safe saying these things to Nico, but he did. It was as if he was free from judgment with Nico, who had already seen him at his worst, who he didn’t hold in high regard. He didn’t matter at all, and he used to matter very much. “Seb doesn't want kids,” he said.
"Do you?"
“I don’t know,” Lewis said. “I told Seb that I didn’t, but that was a lie. I was scared that he would change his mind for me. I think I wanted them eventually, but only if it was with him."
It wasn't that Seb was stubborn, but he had created the life he wanted for himself. He didn't want to live in Monaco so he didn't own any property here. He didn't like social media, so he didn't own a single account. He made no concessions except for Lewis. Slowly, surely, Lewis had worn him down without meaning to.
Nico smiled thinly and didn't reply. "I wanted kids with you," he said finally.
Lewis stared at him. “You never said anything.”
“It seemed inevitable, I guess.” Nico looked out the window and sighed. “I thought it would happen eventually. It was so easy to imagine - maybe one kid, maybe two. I was always going to quit racing before you. Making tiny baby jerseys with your name and number on the back, taking the kids to see you race.”
"I had no idea." He didn't feel a shadow of guilt anymore, but it was still uncomfortable, sitting with Nico like this.
Yellow sunlight drifted across the floors. Nico's face seemed softer, rounder in retirement, which only served to remind him of Nico in their childhood. "I think if you really wanted kids with Sebastian, then you would've brought it up to him already. Instead, you're here talking to me, even though we haven't talked about things like this in years."
Lewis's stomach twisted. "Are you serious?"
"Are you?" Nico raised an eyebrow. "You're here talking to me, aren't you? You don't usually talk about these things to other people when you're in love."
"I do love him."
Nico looked away. "I can see that he loves you too, you know. He doesn't know how lucky he has it. If you were my -," Nico paused.
"Please stop," Lewis said, inhaling sharply.
"Have you thought about whether he's right for you?" Nico plowed on, relentless. "If kids are important to you and he's not willing to compromise, what then?"
He knew the answer; goddammit, he knew the answer.
This was the danger he had predicted, that shiver of apprehension that told him to stay far away from Nico. No one had the capacity to hurt him anymore, and most people didn’t dare try. Not even Seb could’ve wounded him like this. He had lived his life so carefully; this time, just this once, he was going to make it work. They were going to last, him and Seb. “Fuck off,” Lewis said, and it was mortifying when his voice came out high and reedy. “You haven’t changed.”
Nico's expression twisted. "Lewis, wait -"
He went home in a daze. For some reason, there were tears in his eyes - he wasn't crying, but his face was wet by the time he unlocked his front door. It was like he was seventeen again, walking back home from Nico's apartment after their first real fight.
It was only after he had gotten home when he realized that he had forgotten the eggs.
Well now what, he thought, not for the first time. What should he do now?
He woke up in the morning to the sight of the sun kissing Seb's bare shoulder, of breakfast eaten straight out of the pan, and of a spread of research papers that Seb had printed out, fluttering over the kitchen table like leaves. They sat on the balcony in Lewis's apartment again, which had become quite overgrown with plants. Seb kept coming home with cuttings every time he went to the local coop. Environmental theft, Seb called it with a smile whenever he pulled a leaf from his pocket.
"I can't believe you chose me sometimes," Seb said. "It still feels like a dream."
"You chose me."
Seb laughed into his shoulder. "I really didn't."
He had been hoping for an answer more along the lines of: we chose each other. It wasn't a test, but he couldn't help being disappointed nonetheless. Seb kissed him, his mouth sweet from the berries he had eaten earlier that morning. Even when he was mad at Seb, Lewis couldn't hold it against him for long. He was learning not to blame a man for his own nature. Seb would only apologize for things he felt sorry about - it was as simple as that. There was a lingering bitterness that rested in Seb these days, no longer optimistic and excited about the upcoming seasons.
When they first met, really met, Seb had been twenty and Lewis had been twenty-two. It was only natural that they both changed significantly since then. Lewis no longer thought of Seb as the troublemaker, the rookie, although sometimes he saw traces of Seb's younger self. It was only a sign that no matter how much time passed, whether they were twenty-two or thirty-two or even forty-two, that nothing lasted forever. The years had passed like he had fast-forwarded a film.
He was afraid that they weren't going to make it. He had an instinct for these sort of things, born out of the many mistakes he had made with Nico. They only worked if they understood that they trusted and would not hurt each other. It was beyond love. He had to live in the moment, focusing on the present, even though he could feel the long-sought peace slipping away.
He did the best he could, winning race after race, kissing away the rueful twist of Seb's mouth, knowing in his heart that he would propose after his retirement, if it ever came down to it. He wanted to spend their lives together, whether that meant living in Switzerland or Germany or some other country that Seb took a liking to. He was only going to keep racing if he kept winning, he told Seb. Lewis was planning to retire in about two years, and then they would have the rest of their lives to spend together.
He wanted to believe it so much. Seb smiled, but his eyes told a very different story.
Epilogue
It was a breezy afternoon, the sun flickering gently through the paddock, when Angela shook him awake. It was as if someone had picked him up and rattled him until his brain started leaking out of his skull. "Hm?" Lewis asked, groggy.
"Time to go," Angela said, already swinging Lewis' bag over her shoulder.
They were both extremely familiar with this particular routine - Angela let him sleep wherever he could find some quiet, and then packed all their belongings for the next race. Things moved extremely quickly after the race.Sometimes, Lewis would close his eyes for a second, and wake up to find the entire garage all packed up and empty.
He still felt like the ground was moving beneath his feet. Outside, the mechanics were rolling their carts up and down the paddock, metal vibrating against gravel. He caught sight of Seb and his family across the paddock and waved. Hanna gave him a small smile and nodded, pushing a stroller further down the path.
"Do you want to talk to them?" Angela asked quietly. "You don't have to."
"It's okay," Lewis assured her.
"No one would blame you," Angela said, and Lewis laughed. It was hard to talk to Seb, but it was even harder to stay away. He was just about to tell Angela so, but then it was too late, when Seb approached them.
“Hey,” Seb smiled, clapping him on the shoulder. “Awful race, wasn't it?”
“A little, I guess. It's been worse.” He was a little taken aback, but maybe he shouldn’t have been. “You’re going back to Switzerland?”
“Yeah, the kids have got school tomorrow.”
It was darkly, bitterly funny that Seb was the one who had kids. Nico would've made a horribly snide comment, something about commitment and a man's word, but Lewis never would. Seb was allowed to change his mind. He seemed happy, at least.
“Already?” Lewis asked. "You're not going to take them sightseeing?"
"Yeah," Seb shrugged. “The youngest is starting preschool soon. I don’t think we’ll have to deal with waitlists in the future, thank God. At least fame is good for something."
"There's a wait list for preschool?"
A ghost of a smile flickered around Seb's mouth. "No, Lewis. If we got her on a waitlist for preschool now, it would be too late. This is about grade school."
"Oh." It all seemed so complicated to him, and Seb smirked. "Oh, shut up. How was I supposed to know about the school system anyways."
It was excruciatingly awkward, but they powered through. Maybe it was only awkward to him. Seb seemed to be at ease, although he still looked at Lewis with the same alarming intensity that used to send alarm bells off in Nico's head. That was also difficult to think about, so he focused on Seb instead. There were a few wrinkles around Seb's eyes, and his hair was longer, curling gently at his nape and sweeping along his forehead. It was similar to how it looked ten, fifteen years ago, Lewis reckoned. He couldn’t believe it had been so long.
“Yeah, well, you’re lucky,” Seb said, grinning. “There’s a lot of bullshit you don’t have to know.”
"You must be so busy," Lewis said.
Seb shrugged. "It became clear that I couldn’t do both at once. Things are so different when you’re retired, but it’s still nice to show the kids what I used to do for a living."
Lewis could so clearly see Seb's features in the children's faces, shining with excitement and awe. It made his chest hurt. "I'm glad that they were able to see your old garage."
Seb grinned. "Maybe we'll have a future racer or two. Maybe not. I wouldn't want them to pursue this if they weren't interested. If they were, then they'll always have me to guide them." He hesitated, then added, "and maybe you as well?"
"Of course," Lewis said around the lump in his throat. "Of course."
They didn't ended up together in the end, which he had already prepared for in his heart. The kids were a surprise to him, though.
He was grateful that Seb never blamed him for continuing on with racing; he himself didn't blame Seb for having kids, although it pierced him sometimes with an intense emotion that he couldn’t name. When Nico said that Lewis would regret his choices, he hadn't been wrong. The truth was that Lewis did regret it in some ways, not just about Nico but about Seb as well. He could picture it all so clearly, the way that Nico explained it - two kids, a life between them, with racing still in the picture. It was only that he could picture it with Seb too. Two kids in green and black jerseys, and eleven championships between them. He regretted every path he hadn't taken, but he couldn't bring himself to regret the path he did.
There was a solidarity between him and Seb, a mutual understanding. Against all odds, they were friends, though it was not the way he used to understand friendship. It was not intimate or personal. They barely talked and they never texted, but Seb still knew him better than most. Seb knew that Lewis always needed a challenge; when things were going too well, something inside of him tended to collapse into rubble. Nothing felt better than a victory after a long drought. In some ways, he cherished the losses as much as he did the wins.
Perhaps he was singularly unsuited for children, although he still thought that he would've given up racing for Seb. Now that his chance for that had passed him by, he couldn't imagine that he would give up racing for anything. Sometimes he looked around the garage and wondered whether anyone could understand what he was feeling? Most days, it felt like no one ever could, not Toto or Bono or George or Angela.
Neither of them spoke. For a split second, he thought Seb would say something, anything, to fill the silence, but Seb only looked at him earnestly. There were no words that could've described how he felt. He loved and didn't love Seb. He missed Seb more than he would ever let himself reveal. There was a look on Seb's face, something that transcended language, that told him that Seb understood.