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It was everything about rallying that made their mundane jobs worthwhile. The travelling, the race itself, meeting all kinds of people from all over the globe. The evenings spent in the garage applying a new paint job over the old dings and scratches on the metal body of Maxim’s Lada was enough to brighten Timur’s mood. These were personal projects of theirs but it reminded him of their roots of being nothing and having to scrape pennies for repairs.
Having extra cash from previous winnings and the savings from their jobs meant they weren’t forced to stay in rundown motels. They could afford decent food, treat themselves to more drinks. Getting a good night’s sleep before a race was important. They wouldn’t be able to do that in dingy establishments where the walls were paper thin and the bed covers made their skin itch all over.
Timur got off the phone with the transport company after receiving good news that everything would arrive on time and ready by tomorrow morning for the recce. With news of potential delays, they were worried about it for nights on end but the call provided much needed comfort and he looked forward to reporting it to Maxim.
He returned to the bar and found Maxim speaking to two men. The one listening to the conversation was slim with sandy brown hair, a thin nose which gave semblance to a bird’s beak and his face was awfully familiar. Then his companion, who was speaking to Maxim, had a slightly darker complexion, a striking gaze that had Timur feeling awfully vulnerable when it locked on as he approached them.
“Timur, this is Shuhrat. He’s my former co-driver,” Maxim introduced him and allowed for all the formalities of shaking hands to pass before he continued. “And this is-“
“Marius Streicher?” Timur interrupted, unable to contain himself as the name finally returned to him. The man raised a brow at being addressed so directly and heat skittered all over Timur’s cheeks, ran down his spine and his hands slicked over with sweat as he realised how awkward he must have made things. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Congratulations in Germany, by the way. I remember watching the footage after the race and it was so amazing watching you drive.”
The German appeared to be flattered by the compliment and shook his hand with a bright smile across his face. “I have to thank the rain for that,” he said with a chuckle. “Shuhrat says we wouldn’t have won that if you guys didn’t puncture your tyre. He tells me Maxim here is a force to be reckoned with, so if that’s true then I do wonder about you too. Behind every great driver is a fantastic navigator.”
In that moment Timur caught Maxim glancing over towards him and he couldn’t help but to feel so bashful like a boy meeting his idols for the first time.
The comment brought Timur back to that rainy afternoon when plumes of dark clouds blotted out the sun and it was pouring with so much rain that the wipers were working overtime. While accurate pacenotes helped to mitigate the issue that was their visibility, the worn tyres had little traction on the slippery asphalt. They were losing time, taking caution around the most vigorous bends. There was only so much wariness Maxim could employ when they were zipping down the lanes at such high speeds. Previous drivers had crashed into the vineyards, unable to control the car along the hairpin turn. The flattened foliage bore a bad omen and Maxim was conscious not to make the same mistake, but there was only so much he could control.
He was no stranger to hydroplaning, though when the car began to skid, a dreadful feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. The back end of the car slammed into the concrete bank by the road as he barely managed to swerve and straighten it, wrestling for control with all his might. The momentum vanished and next thing he knew, they were unbuckling their harnesses and stepping into the rain to fix a punctured tyre. Five minutes to their time, they dwindled down to third place. In normal conditions they were faster but the rain numbed their fingers, it made everything harder to grip.
Marius and Shuhrat didn’t have an issue with that particular stage, but they took the entire rally with a carefulness that was unlike the German’s impeccable accuracy. He usually tackled narrow roads with robotic precision, weaving through the eye of the needle, never breaking a sweat. This efficiency proved to be a threatening contender for Maxim’s championship, although the pouring roads of Germany had Marius slowing down.
It wasn’t their fastest record yet, but they secured first place by merely thirty seconds over Emmanuelle Pichon. It left Maxim wondering that night if he’d taken those turns slower, would they have beaten Marius? Though with so many years of experience under his belt, he knew better than to contemplate over what could’ve happened. What mattered more was that they continued to maintain a lead on points over Marius.
A hand gripping Timur’s shoulder broke him out of his thoughts. Maxim gave him a pint of beer, encouraging him to drink it.
“Loosen up,” he murmured and offered his signature smile where the corners of his lips tugged upwards ever so slightly but the rest of his face remained unanimated as always. Timur took a long sip and let out a breathy sigh, finally able to let go of everything that had been tormenting him all day. “Given that you’re not panicking about it, everything’s fine?”
Timur grinned back then nodded. “Yeah, it’ll be there on time,” he said and he tried to decipher the conspicuous look on Maxim’s face. “And what’s your issue? Those two?”
Maxim’s eyes darted across the bar to where the pair were, then he returned to taking in the pleasant view of Timur. “No, just Shuhrat,” he answered and shrugged it off, trying to appear as if it didn’t bother him as much as it really did. “I didn’t ever tell you, did I?” The way Maxim’s brow arched when Timur shook his head told him he was in for one hell of a story. “Well you know he’s my old co-driver. We won a lot of races back then but damn, as time went on we couldn’t stand one another. It was like a fucked up marriage, we were constantly fighting and blaming each other but on the outside we seemed alright.”
“Did you fuck him?” Timur asked, surprising him with his directness.
“Jesus, no.” Maxim pulled a face as if the mere idea of it could make him recede into himself. He knocked back the rest of his pint. “Anytime something went on, we’d start tearing each other apart and pointing fingers. ‘You didn’t listen to me, you didn’t read the pacenotes clear enough-‘ you get it. Then one day, after we won in Latvia, we got so drunk. We were done at that point. I said something offensive to piss him off like I always did but next thing you know we were trying to beat the shit out of each other.”
The story was rather entertaining but he pretended to be unimpressed by it and sipped his beer. Timur studied the scars on Maxim’s face and wondered if any of them came from that brawl. “Dysfunctional,” he noted and clicked his tongue. “Classy.”
Maxim prodded his finger at Timur’s chest. “So,” he continued, eyes filled with a steadfast determination that made the co-driver nervous. “We need to steamroll them. Recce tomorrow, we’ll get the pacenotes updated and we’ll win this. Turkey has always been ours.”
The morning came faster than they expected. In the early hours of the morning their alarm blared and in a haze of excitement they untangled themselves from one another. As daylight approached it proved to be warm today and given it was only the recce, they were flexible in what they could wear. Shorts, of course.
Maxim swallowed thickly when he heard the bathroom door open and it was instinctual for him to look up. His eyes naturally gravitated down to study the thin shorts clinging to Timur’s toned thighs and if Maxim strained his eyes he could make out the outline of his underwear. There was only so much time for ogling and Timur passed over a bottle of sunscreen to him.
“Get my back?” He requested with a smile, knowing well that Maxim would be more than happy to rub his hands all over his broad shoulders.
The cream left a greasy feeling over skin but Maxim took his time making sure there was good coverage. He did Timur’s back and without asking, applied some to his forearms which would be exposed too. “Anywhere else?” He questioned and took in the synthetic aroma that was slightly sweet.
Timur shook his head. “Thanks,” he murmured then leaned in to peck Maxim’s lips. He put on his shirt and pocketed his phone, gathering all the things they needed to bring. “Let’s go, I’m hungry.”
There was definitely something far more satisfying when racing in warmer countries and Maxim figured it out when he was walking several paces behind Timur, getting full view of his physique complimented by his well-fitting clothes. No baggy hoodies to hide all of this perfection. Plus being away from home and travelling always put a smile on Timur’s face, he enjoyed the new surroundings and nothing filled Maxim’s heart more than seeing him be happy.
They made sure to eat a hearty breakfast before they hit the road. The ripe fruit available was enough for Timur’s sweet tooth and Maxim warned him not to overeat in fear he would hurl all of it up on the bumpy roads. With caffeine in their system, they had enough to run on until the afternoon and they left the hotel early to ensure they would be there on time.
Having basked in the sun for a considerable amount of hours, the seats of the car were hot enough to burn skin. Even with the windows rolled down the sheer heat of the waxing sun in the morning made it borderline unbearable and there was only so much complaining they could do before they realised whining made little difference. Timur was steadily melting, glistening forearms crossed over his chest as he hid under the small shade his cap provided. There was a redness to his skin and Maxim was sympathetic to his suffering, wishing there was something he could do to provide some relief. For a man who radiated such a glowing presence, it was ironic Timur could not bear the sunlight for any longer than a couple minutes.
With all the race dispersed over such a great distance across the region, the reconnaissance of the stages would take a considerable amount of time. They hoped the stages hadn’t changed too much since they drove last year. Though as Maxim took them down these dusty roads he questioned if their streak of success could be ruined by a stray rock, by mere misfortune. The possibility was there but he didn’t rest his mind on it for long and chose to focus on the present instead.
Where the control marshals were perched under their little tents, there were small groups of enthusiastic fans. As Timur made sure their papers were signed and they would be given the go-ahead to drive the stage, Maxim busied himself with autographs, forcing a polite smile for photos. He was never too great with interaction and even worse at it when it came to interviews. Compared to Timur, he had a wobbly grasp on English and most questions flew over his head.
“How’s the weather? How are you feeling about this rally? With your recent loss at Germany, Streicher’s surely catching up in points, any thoughts on that?”
All those kinds of questions, even the simple ones, had Maxim struggling to find the words for an answer. It wasn’t that he couldn’t understand them, or that he wasn’t capable of eventually coming up with a response in English, but he didn’t want to hum in front of the camera for a good minute too long. “Uh… it’s good. ” A strong, firm nod, followed by the unshakable feeling that it was definitely the wrong answer, especially when he could practically feel Timur smiling at him. “We will do our best.”
It was almost common knowledge by now that if anyone wished to get a coherent answer out of the pair, it was Timur they should be speaking to. He gave the picture-perfect answers that the media wanted, whether it be the charming playfulness of a cheeky jab at the other competitors or an optimistic assurance that they’ll take it home once again. Interviews were always a source of nervousness for both of them as Maxim was not confident in his English and Timur was unsure of how to speak for the both of them, but as time went on and he understood Maxim trusted him to, it became easier. Maxim loved listening to him, watching that charismatic side of him bloom.
The recce was important to get right. They still had pacenotes from last year, but it was critical to record any changes to the track or make precise adjustments to the calls. They would be read out when the car would be driving at twice the speed in the real thing, they couldn’t afford to make a mistake. It could cost them the rally- the championship title, they learnt that time and time again. Maxim tested their limits, seeing how tight he could take a turn and pointed out where he needed to fix the pacenotes. In turn, Timur scribbled it all down and continued to read from the old book. Two passes to get a feel for the rough terrain and after that, footage could only do so much.
Midway through their day they took a break by one of the stops. Several other drivers were resting here too where food and beverage were made available at a truck. The rest stop was situated under a drafty shade and they disembarked the car, taking in the warm air that held the faint aroma of the earth, the stinging fumes from the tailpipes. Idling cars nearby gave off a hearty vibration that could be felt down to the marrow and the heat from the engines brushed against bare legs as people walked by, staring at all the parked cars.
Timur grimaced at the dirt marring the white complexion of their car then he stretched his aching back and the sudden surge of blood flow to his strained muscles brought waves of relief.
Maxim returned with two coffees and set them on the roof as he watched Timur rub in some more sunscreen. There was a streak across the bridge of his nose so Maxim reached to still him and he smudged the mark away, the pad of his finger grazing reddened skin. Stepping closer, he picked up the light scent of the cream and it was tempting to bury his face into Timur’s neck, to take everything in and feel the stickiness, the sweat resting on his strong arms. Timur responded with a smile to thank him then he sipped at the coffee, relieved to have something to boost his energy.
At first they did not think much of this close proximity, but when the arrival of a car adorned with a Union Jack rolled towards them, Maxim stepped back and remembered where they were, the presence they were in.
They caught lunch and mingled with the other drivers, some they were more familiar with and others not so much. Yumiko Imagawa and her co-driver Jack Estrada, they were recognisable from a mile away and Maxim knew of them by their good sportsmanship, a loss against them was always an honourable one. While his interest laid mostly in beating Marius and Shuhrat, he was conscious not to underestimate his other competitors. Yumiko stood second overall in Germany just seconds lagging behind Marius’ record and given how close she always was, she proved to be a threat to their victory. Although the difference was, Maxim wouldn’t mind losing to Yumiko. It wouldn’t hurt his pride at all. However, losing to Shuhrat was another story entirely.
At some point Timur had slipped away to reconnect with an old friend, perhaps a driver they met at the previous rally. Just when Maxim thought he was alone, a hand touched his shoulder and he looked up to see Shuhrat circling around to sit across from him. With a raised brow, Maxim questioned the gentle greeting and he gave Shuhrat a nod.
“It struck me the other day,” Shuhrat began and his bluntness filled Maxim with nostalgia to the days when they did not fear voicing anything to one another and words were serrated with malice. Although there was no need for aggression anymore and it seemed the dissolution of their partnership was for the greater good. “There’s rumours going around about you two and I won’t lie, they’re quite believable when you think about it.”
Maxim picked at the food on his plate and chewed, using this time to think of the best way to navigate this situation. Although the longer he went without speaking, it only confirmed Shuhrat’s suspicions and Maxim didn’t know if he was able to hide. He cleared his throat. “Are you using this against me?” He questioned, looking steadily at Shuhrat. “I thought better of you, man.”
Shuhrat raised his hands as if to indicate he was no danger. “It’s none of my business,” he said, like it was supposed to reassure Maxim and the friendly tone did not change his serious gaze. “But you should be careful. It could kill a lot of your support back home, y’know?”
If this was some form of psychological warfare, Maxim pretended not to give in. Hell would have to freeze over before Shuhrat showed genuine care for his well-being or his career. Maxim glanced around and found Timur speaking to Emmanuelle Pichon and Julien Nizan, the French duo known for stealing the championship title three years ago by mere milliseconds in a tide-turning finale at Finland. That loss was bitter but Timur learnt to embrace it and appreciate the victories of others. Tearing his mind off him, Maxim scrutinised Shuhrat again.
There was a small, amused grin across Shuhrat’s face, a smile one would make when everything finally clicked and became interconnected. A cheeky kind of triumph that made Maxim’s skin itch. “‘We have a close bond.’” He quoted in English, going as far to mimic Maxim’s accent then laughed to himself. “Close bond in bed, huh? That’s your secret? Jeez, man… you hid it well. I would’ve never thought you were a faggot-“
Maxim nearly flinched. It was a slap to the face, one that knocked every coherent thought into a muddled mess in his head and he drew in a sharp breath as he set his eyes back on Shuhrat again. “Don’t fucking call me that,” he warned in a low voice, interrupting him. At the back of his mind there was a suggestion to calm down, not to be irrational, but with Shuhrat overstepping these boundaries, Maxim was quick to shut it down. “You and I- we’re not friends anymore. Don’t forget that.”
Back in the days they didn’t hesitate to throw insults, to provoke one another out of jest and even Maxim had his fair share of saying distasteful things to Shuhrat, although now it was different. Realising that, Shuhrat fell into a sheepish silence and tried to recover as he sucked on his teeth and looked around.
“Right, sorry.” The stagnancy of the air around them made the entire situation worse than it already was and it was agonising. Shuhrat studied Timur in the distance then looked between the both of them. “So, I hear you live in Vladivostok nowadays. Why? It’s so far out.”
“To move in with Timur. His father is sick and he likes to be close to home,” said Maxim and he was more than relieved Shuhrat wasn’t prodding at him with questions asking who was the woman in the relationship. However he knew it had already crossed Shuhrat’s mind at least twice by now.
“And how’d you meet him anyways if he lives all the way out there?”
One thing Maxim didn’t miss about Shuhrat was his tendency to interrogate. The transparency of their former partnership seemed to give him the illusion that he had free reign to the information he wanted and Maxim questioned his motives. Although he still provided a tentative answer. “He was studying for his degree in Moscow and he used to co-drive for Alexsandr Senaviev. We met at a small, local rally and Alexsandr suggested I take him on after you and I happened. Turns out he isn’t bad.”
Finding the response sufficient, Shuhrat rested his case and answered his own questions with this information. In the distance Marius was calling for him and he perked up, seeming to recognise what the string of German phrases meant and it was clear it was an inside joke between them. Maxim gave him a nod as he left and watched after Shuhrat, wondering if he was the same abrasive prick with Marius or if he was quite the opposite.
Daylight was burning. Soon enough Timur returned, searching for him and they cleaned up their mess. He noted Maxim’s moody expression and tried to decipher it. He nudged Maxim with his elbow to catch his attention as they got ready to hit the roads again.
“Do you really hate him that much?”
Maxim contemplated for a moment, chewing on his inner cheek. “We can’t lose to him.”
The rest of the stages took them into the evening and they returned to the hotel later that night completely worn from an entire day’s worth of driving. Fatigued, Timur continued to work into the night. By the time Maxim emerged from the bathroom he saw him still buried in their pacenotes. It took time to decipher the shaky handwriting, scrawls scribbled in a hurry and it wasn’t unusual for Timur to simply place a mark where he had no time to write down the revision.
Maxim fished a bottle of water from the minifridge and brought it to their bed, the single bed they decided to share while using the other one to throw their clothes on. Their relationship was kept secret from the public, they could not afford to lose the sponsors and support they gathered over the years, so they played it as safe as possible. It would raise suspicions if they were to share a king-sized bed and they were used to the cramped nature of a single bed.
“You’re sunburnt,” Maxim commented as he slung an arm around Timur’s shoulders and the younger man withdrew from the contact, his skin tender. Without asking Maxim went to retrieve the aloe vera gel from their suitcase and he settled behind Timur where he pressed a kiss against his shoulder blade and took in the faint scent of body wash. He began to apply the gel over his skin as he did that morning with the sun cream. By now he was familiar with every freckle on Timur’s back, the small scar at the divot of his lower spine from past injuries.
“When am I not?” Timur questioned in a mumble, focused on his work.
The footage from their drives played from the laptop speakers, of Maxim providing the changes he wanted and Timur skipped through to the notes he needed clarification with. He copied them out again in a neat and legible manner. Maxim looked over his shoulder, offering help occasionally but he knew Timur had it under control. He always did.
The dedication Timur put to ensure their success never failed to fill Maxim’s heart with an admiration he could not describe. To even do this alongside the man he loved the most, Maxim would trade the world for it. They could lose a million races and he would still prefer driving with Timur over anyone else. It was hard to find someone he could put his entire trust in and this compatibility, the teamwork between them was rarer than any jewel on Earth. Maxim understood Timur’s anxieties, his feelings of inferiority as he did not have as many years of experiences, and to see him work so hard only deepened Maxim’s appreciation for him.
Timur closed over the laptop and set everything aside by the time the clock struck one. They were happy with what work they had gotten done that day and with the last day of recce tomorrow, they were confident going into this rally. Maxim wrapped his arms around Timur and pulled him close to press a kiss against his cheek.
It didn’t take long for either of them to fall asleep, subdued by the soft whisper of the air conditioning in the background, relaxed bodies pressed against one another under the cool sheets. They dreamed of the trail of dust behind their car, how it would linger in the scorching sun.
One blink and the next day slipped between Maxim’s fingers before he knew it. They were busy once again, taking this crucial time to test out the perfected pacenotes that could determine whether they defend their championship title or if they careen into a ditch. Although the day came to a close and Maxim did not have an ill feeling about the coming days, provided that luck would be on their side.
On the morning of the first leg, they woke up with an air of excitement between them. Maxim pulled on his overalls and in the mirror, he spotted Timur wholly captivated by the sight, an absent smile on his face. Maxim looked towards him as he zipped up, wondering why Timur was so entranced on this particular day.
“Let me see you.” Timur stood and continued to study his physique in the slim suit. He encouraged Maxim to turn around and it wouldn’t surprise him if Timur was copping an eyeful of his backside. Satisfied, he took Maxim by the hips and pulled him close. “M. Basuda,” he read the embroidery across Maxim’s lower torso and a playful smile brightened his face. He spoke in his accented English, “Ah, Maxim! How are you feeling about this rally today? This could be your fourth championship win, do you think you’ll keep up your lead? Any words to your competitors?”
Already exhausted at the idea of all the interviews and possible press conferences, Maxim rolled his eyes and smiled back. “Sometimes I wish you were the one driving,” he joked and he took in a small breath as he braced himself for his wobbly English. “Yes, I do feel very confident about this rally,” he attempted just as Timur tried to teach him, although trying to put his own spin on things. “Luckily I have my co-driver Timur Glazkov by my side, he’s been working very hard so I think we will definitely keep this strong lead.”
Timur laughed and pressed a kiss against Maxim’s lips. They always took their time to do this small, intimate ritual as it would be rare to have an opportunity later on with all the eyes watching them. “You’re getting better at this,” he praised.
It was those brief sessions before the rally that rested their nerves, the gentle affections to lighthearted joking. The first day of the race went smoothly as forecasted, they set a firm standing with their fast record. There was the occasional close call but Maxim brushed it off as a calculated risk to which Timur decided it was best to take his word for it than to fret over potential disasters.
Although while they seemed to set a steady lead with their record, other competitors did not run into significant issues either. Yumiko was encroaching on their times and getting too close for comfort while Marius was sitting firmly in third place with no intention of dropping any lower in his position. It was only a matter of time before something would completely shift the rankings. Emmanuelle plummeted from fourth to seventh after experiencing overheating issues on the third stage, paving way for Chul Kyung Hwa to challenge Marius for third place.
Timur was nervous, it was within his nature to feel uncertain with their standings and he tried to look towards Maxim’s calm composure for reassurance. Maxim understood what it was. Pressure. Coming from a hobbyist co-driver to driving with a national champion, then going on to compete for world championship titles was no typical pathway for many people. There were plenty of expectations from their fans to their sponsors and Maxim wished he could just reassure Timur that he would always be enough for him regardless of how they perform.
The second day of the rally proved to be challenging. They had a lead from the first day, but not by a great margin. The dirt was slippery on these worn tyres but Maxim persevered with what they could work with. They made it through all the stages of the second leg without significant trouble but the occasional hiccup saw seconds stacking onto their record. The timings for the top three drivers were horribly close. Yumiko rose to first with her surgical performance and Marius was beginning to find his momentum with the roads.
It was going to be tight. Maxim had a strong feeling they would pull through. Provided they manage extra points in the power stage, it would maintain their overall lead in the championship. As the night closed in, he massaged the tight muscles in Timur’s neck and shoulders, reassuring him once more that there was nothing to lose sleep over.
The last morning of the race was nerve-wracking for everyone. In their cool hotel room, Timur stood by the balcony door where the sun crept over the crest of the horizon. He looked over the pacenotes to make sure everything was in order, a hand rubbing at the raised scar over his eye as if to placate himself. Maxim reached towards him to run his palms over the thick fabric of Timur’s overalls stretched along his broad shoulders, easing the tension out of his body before wrapping him into a tight embrace from behind.
Maxim’s lips found their way to Timur’s neck where the collar of his suit had not been fixed, allowing him access and he kissed the stretch of sensitive skin. He hoped to soothe Timur’s worries.
“We’ll do our best,” Maxim said as he held him close. “And I love you, alright? I wouldn’t do this with anyone else.”
While Timur relaxed into his touch, it was clear he was still thinking about the race. He managed a smile and he closed his eyes, trying to focus on the comforting sensation of Maxim’s light kisses, the rough stubble grazing his jawline and his neck. “Especially not Shuhrat,” Timur muttered and they laughed but as the silence dragged on, their seconds were counting down. This moment could not last forever. They had to tackle the roads. “Let’s go.”
It was hard to tell if today was particularly warm or if it was simply a bad case of anxiety making them hot all over. The competing cars arrived one at a time and parked in orderly fashion then out came their drivers, expressions rigid from their nervousness. Some greeted one another and wished them good luck, others tended to themselves and checked over their cars for the nth time to ensure everything was ready to go.
Maxim couldn’t ignore it when he saw that distinct, wasp-like car reversing into one of the spots. Aside from the crackling engine that reverberated so deeply, the bright yellow colouring on Marius’ car was quite the eyesore. On the rear side window was a small German flag, followed by M. Streicher. Underneath it, the flag of Uzbekistan, S. Kessikbayev in white Helvetica. Maxim remembered when it was his own name above Shuhrat’s and he did not miss those days.
The crowd flinched as Emmanuelle’s car gave off a roaring start, some covering their ears from the powerful sound and others cheering at the magnificent sensation in their chests. Maxim looked on until he heard Timur speaking with Marius and Shuhrat, by then he was way too curious to pretend they weren’t there.
There was a glimmer of admiration in Marius’ eyes as he prowled around the car and studied it, taking a good look at the tyres before giving the bonnet a small pat as if it were a sentient creature capable of appreciating the affection.
“Perhaps a miracle can happen someday and you and I can swap places,” Marius offered as a joke and Maxim knew he was oblivious to the real history between him and Shuhrat. “I’d love to take this beauty for a spin, plus I’m sure Timur’s English is good enough to guide me.”
Maxim mustered a smile and his eyes flickered over to Shuhrat. “You’d have to get used to our pacenote system, I’m afraid,” he answered back. “It’s quite different and Shuhrat remembers.”
That sour look. Shuhrat was a conventional and traditional man, he liked the methods that were proven to be successful and many of their past arguments were over the efficiency of Maxim’s pacenote system. “Oh, Marius has studied that mess. He thinks it’s wonderful,” he told them and Timur smiled.
“I’m always very interested in what different teams do to be so successful and communication is one of them. When teams have a unique system, I love to learn about it even if I don’t plan to use it myself,” Marius said and it seemed he wanted to go on about it for longer but now was not the time to get sidetracked. “Shame, we really should go. Maybe we should catch lunch together sometime. Good luck to the both of you!”
Cameras clicked as they all shook hands and this was a photo to be presented alongside a sensationalist headline on some website. The story of Maxim and Shuhrat did not stay under wraps for long, not after the bruises started forming and while they described it to be an amicable end to their partnership, everyone knew it was quite the opposite. Now years after not communicating, here they were having a conversation.
Maxim noted the grin lingering on Timur’s face. “Get his autograph next time,” he teased.
Like everyone else, they slipped on their balaclava and the helmet over it, secured their harnesses and awaited the call to start.
The third leg of the race to end the rally featured four stages. The dusty air tasted of victory and Maxim had a notion they were making great time. The harmony of Timur’s voice reading out the pacenotes in a steady rhythm with the percussive pinging of small rocks bouncing off the body of the car, Maxim loved it all. In this very moment he was enraptured by the momentum of the race, addicted to the hot blood rushing in his ears.
The engine thrummed with a high whine as they shot down the meandering roads. Tight turns and the occasional hairpin but nothing they couldn’t manage. These stages weren’t new to them at all and an instinct in Maxim told him to push harder and possibly establish a new personal record in Turkey. They could do it. It would be the cherry on top of proving to Marius and Shuhrat they were no match for them. If anything, it brought the worst out of Maxim when it came to beating Shuhrat. Given their history, it was imperative of him to.
With the penultimate stage so vivid and clear in Maxim’s memory, he didn’t hesitate to drive his heel into the accelerator. It was this risk-taking that found them stealing the podium finish and the reckless decisions had a history of biting Maxim in the ass but this time he was sure it was worth it. He could discipline himself more but the thought of driving like a robot, it was not within his nature. After all, his name wasn’t Marius Streicher. Maxim Basuda knew only aggressive speed. Some would think his style was crude and it was far from neat but as unconvinced as his witnesses were, everything was calculated.
They went over a large jump and the second the tyres left the ground, Maxim knew they were going too fast. Timur did too when he heard Maxim utter, “Oh, shit.”
The landing was rough but they shook it off, regained control of the car. Continuing with the pacenotes, Timur called the coming crest, a sharp turn to follow. Don’t cut. Maxim didn’t know what happened, whether he disregarded the command by accident thinking he was being cautious during the recce or if his mind blanked. Either way, it was too late. The right bumper of the car slammed into the rock awaiting at the apex of the corner and the last thing Maxim remembered was him saying, “Fuck!” Before the momentum knocked coherent thoughts from his head.
The car spun wildly out of control and they braced for impact once again. Another hard jostle into a tree that tipped the vehicle off balance. The roof of the car crumpled against the roll cage and the shatter bloomed into the windshield. The momentum was relentless no matter how many times they collided against the ground and the trees. As they rolled, Maxim felt himself reaching a hand towards Timur.
Maxim opened his eyes when everything came to a stop. It was so quiet. Their broken windshield gave a crackling sound as the weight of the car pressed it into the earth and the engine was emitting a sound like a dying breath. Sucking in deep lungful of air, the scent of smoke burned in his chest and he choked on the dust around them. They were suspended upside down. He tried to orientate himself and find a way out of the smouldering wreckage, finding light pouring in from his side of the car.
“Timur! Timur, are you okay?” He grasped for Timur once again, barely able to see his face through the smog and his helmet obscuring his expression. Timur responded by squeezing his hand as he struggled with his harness. Between panicked breaths were low groans and Maxim could not tell if they were out of pain or fear. To wake up, completely disorientated with plumes of thick smoke obscuring vision, it was not something Timur could quickly make sense of right away. “Are you hurt?”
Gravity pushed Maxim down against the roof of the car when he freed himself from his seat. It was almost impossible to rotate in the cramped space and he strained over to Timur. No verbal response, but he heard pained grunting, the clinking of the metal buckle.
“Here, I’ve got you,” Maxim shouted and he wrestled with the harness until it gave way. Timur fell forwards and pushed himself onto his elbows and cried out at the sudden impact. “We have to go, the engine is on fire. Take my hand.”
The driver side door had been lost during the impacts. Maxim pulled himself out first then gripped Timur by his forearm. As he hauled him up, Timur groaned and his body was dead weight, barely managing to move and his legs dragged underneath him. Embracing him, Maxim tried to guide them away from the crash. The flames began to grow. He set him down where it was safe then returned to the car, hoping to put out the fire with their extinguisher but it was too much. Fearing an explosion, he ran back to Timur and every heavy footfall reminded him of his catastrophic mistake.
Hopeless, Maxim untethered his helmet from his shoulder supports and looked up at the helicopter circling them in the sky. There wasn’t a lick of wind in the air and his hair stuck to his forehead, sweat trickled uncomfortably down his neck as he retreated from the ferocious heat. The stagnancy of the earth beneath him was dizzying and blood was still rushing through his ears so loud and fast. He knelt down to examine Timur’s condition, placing an arm around his shoulder to hold him close as they watched the fire engulf their car.
Luckily, Timur was only shaken. He was alert and responsive, claiming he must have pulled something during the crash and Maxim was relieved to know he didn’t sustain any significant injury.
Word of their accident got around quick and within minutes the sirens of fire services and an ambulance came. Accompanying Timur to the hospital, Maxim looked out the back windows of the ambulance. He watched the firemen put out their blazing car and how it soon became a smouldering, black frame amongst ash and dead foliage.
Pulled muscles, whiplash, minor cuts and scrapes. The worst of Timur’s injuries was a sprain to his left ankle but they still went through a battery of tests and scans to make sure. As commentators said, it was a miracle they walked away with no lasting injury. Replays televised their demise, the horrific distance they shot down the embankment and in their wake they took out at least a dozen small trees. The helicopter captured them climbing out, the fire growing greater as it ate up the car, kindled by all the dry vegetation. At a safe distance they were sitting, defeated and watching everything fall apart.
The onboard footage was the worst. In the heat of the moment, it was impossible to tell what was happening with the sheer speed of the car tumbling down the hill. To see it once again, every harsh impact ragdolling their helpless bodies strapped into their harnesses, it made the both of them nauseous at the memory. Their eyes were squeezed shut in fear as they hoped for a quick death or a miracle to happen. The outstretched hand towards Timur. Maxim watched the clips and he wondered what other people thought of it, whether it was conspicuous or nothing to think twice over.
With orders to remain at the hospital for observation, Maxim found his way to Timur’s private room. It came as no surprise when Timur barely greeted him, too caught up in his thoughts. Now that they were in private, Maxim approached and took him into a careful embrace. He pressed his lips against Timur’s temple and held him close, nuzzling into his short-cropped hair.
On Timur’s phone was the footage and there was no doubt he had already watched this over and over. He took in a steady breath before mustering the courage to look at Maxim.
“Did I call the wrong note? I- What went wrong?” His expression was worn as if he had exhausted himself by thinking of all the possible reasons why they had gotten to this point. A sense of dread settled in the pit of Maxim’s stomach, the same kind he felt when he was losing control over the car and he knew everything was about to fall apart. Except now he was confronted by Timur and he could only wait for Timur to lay into him once he knew the truth. “I’m so sorry, Maxim. I don’t know what happened.”
The way guilt gripped around Maxim’s throat and prevented him from speaking made his fingers dig into his palms. “It’s not you, it wasn’t your fault,” he reassured Timur as he took his cheek into his palm, holding him together- or simply allowing him to crumble within his hands. “Hey, look at me. It isn’t your fault at all. It was me. I cut.”
Timur’s expression flashed with confusion and he swallowed thickly. “But I said-“ his thoughts cut off into a daunting silence, a silence louder than the roar of any engine and Maxim hated watching the disappointment settling in his eyes. “I told you not to cut.”
Gripping his hand, Maxim fell into an uncomfortable pause where he wished the truth was easier to digest. He wouldn’t lie to Timur, but there wasn’t a moment that passed by where he wanted to tell him that he simply didn’t hear the call. He forced himself to look up at Timur and he managed a small shrug. “Got greedy.” Maxim swallowed his pride and subdued his ego.
Timur tore his gaze away from him and drew a breath in disbelief, still hurt over the ordeal. “Greedy,” he repeated and shook his head, growing more exasperated as he professed, “We had great timing until we crashed, it would’ve been fine! We could’ve- I- Maxim. ”
They fell quiet again. The television at the corner of the room replayed the highlights and the final standings. On the small podium, Marius and Shuhrat took first place, followed by Yumiko and Jack, then Chul Kyung with his co-driver Craig Jenson. With this victory and the additional points gathered at the power stage, Marius was just shy of their lead now. The rest of the season would be tighter than it already was.
Maxim reached to cup Timur’s cheek and he kissed him gently once more, but forgiveness wouldn’t come so easily through affections. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I fucked up. I could’ve hurt you really bad and it’s my fault.”
“Just leave me be. Please, Maxim.” Timur didn’t want to hear anymore of it. He wrenched Maxim’s hands off him and resisted his touch, brows furrowed as he controlled his breathing. “Go.”
There was no use suffocating Timur with his presence so Maxim gave him some space. He understood why Timur was upset at him and he had every right to be. Maxim had no reasoning behind his actions and the more he thought about it, the more guilt settled in the hollow of his chest and his hubris betrayed him.
Although blaming oneself for past actions and mulling over it achieved very little, he learnt that by now. As much as he wanted to beat himself up over it, he needed to focus on what was ahead of them. There was still the rest of the season to garner as many points as possible and he forced himself to focus on the rallies to come.
They were released from hospital the following morning and returned to the hotel in time for breakfast. By then, emotions had calmed and Timur appeared to be in a better mood. The loss still struck him hard but Maxim felt as if he was on better terms with him now. Tension remained like the humidity in the air, constantly there and it clung to their skin, invaded their lungs and lingered at the back of their mind. There wasn’t much they could do about it and Maxim did not want to provoke an argument.
They sat across from one another by a grand window where the morning light flooded in. While they couldn’t hold hands, Timur opted for the light bump of their legs under the table, bare calves resting against one another as they ate in a relaxed silence. He stared at Maxim, taking in his face and in response, Maxim cocked a brow. Distracted by their nonverbal conversation, they hadn’t noticed someone approaching their table.
“I’m surprised to see you two out of hospital!” Marius’ bright voice broke through their thoughts. The two of them straightened up in their seats, untangling their legs. Maxim gestured for him to sit down with them. “I’m very sorry to hear about the crash. I remember watching it and it was truly shocking.”
Maxim and Timur exchanged quick glances. “Shit happens,” Maxim joked, hoping to lighten the situation. “We’re just giving you guys a chance so the rest of the season won’t be so easy. So, where’s that co-driver of yours?”
“Hungover.” Marius gave a hearty laugh and his grin could provide enough energy to power a city for days. This kind of warmth was infectious and it put both of them at ease. “Let’s hope he’s awake for the press conference.”
Communication with other drivers was always a difficulty for Maxim. The hurdle of language barriers and strained nature of competition made it much tougher to find friends in these parts but Marius was a breath of fresh air. He radiated a friendliness that drew even Maxim in and one would forget the rivalry of this sport. He had an unwavering passion and his plethora of knowledge surrounding it, as proven by his academic background, made for captivating conversations.
Seeing as they had several days left in Turkey with PR events, they made arrangements to have dinner together alongside some of the other competitors and for once, Maxim wasn’t daunted by the idea of it and Timur didn’t feel the obligation to say yes.
They attended an interview that day for a local rally enthusiast group. Having Timur by his side made it a breeze and Maxim figured it was for the best. Questions surrounding their tragic loss were uncomfortable to say the least but it helped Timur think through all of it and come to terms with what happened.
Interaction with the media was largely a new concept to Timur when they won their first European championship. Now they were competing on an international level and he took the reins with public relations despite the energy it demanded from him. Being introverted by nature, neither of them were big on being surrounded by large crowds, especially with all the expectations that followed them.
By the time they made it back to their hotel room, Maxim expected Timur to pass out the second he put his head against his pillow. The last few days had been draining and difficult to deal with, having a constant reminder of their crash from all the questions must be exhausting. However, Timur remained awake as they laid in bed, his thoughts churning in his head like an idling car. Maxim didn’t think too much of it at first and rubbed gentle circles into his back as he tried to focus on Timur’s light breaths tickling his chest. As time went on, he became increasingly aware that Timur wasn’t sleeping.
“Are you thinking about it?” Maxim asked, breaking the silence.
Timur responded with a quiet hum. “Nothing else to think of,” he pointed out.
“Let’s get out of here,” Maxim proposed, beginning to get up and he reached for his shirt. Timur also got dressed but did so with a reluctance, unsure of what was going to happen. “C’mon. Let’s go.”
They made their way down to the empty lobby of the hotel. At four o’clock, the skies were still dim and the outside air was stagnant, but cool. On the empty streets, Maxim took Timur by the hand and gave a light tug in hopes to liven his mood. They followed the sidewalk to the carpark then Maxim rummaged in his pocket for the keys to their car. He dangled the keys in front of Timur, urging him to take them with an imploring raise of his brows.
Seeing as they had already left the hotel and there was no chance of them falling asleep anytime soon, Timur let out a small sigh and took the keys. It was not often that he was the one sitting behind the wheel, he preferred to man the radio while Maxim took on the pleasure of getting frustrated in traffic. Although on these particular days, the best remedy for frustration was simply to drive the tyres bald.
Timur didn’t know this area well, nor did he have any clue where they were going to go but he followed the road and the winding trail of his thoughts. Once they left the urban city, the landscape opened to the Turkish riviera where the road wrapped around the coastline in gentle meanders. No other cars, no police, so Timur floored it. The increasing momentum pushed them into their seats. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and took the car around a sharp bend, finding himself wishing the handling was on-par with the vehicles they used during the races.
“Six right into four left over crest, square right- don’t cut,” Maxim said and broke the silence with his nonsense, instantly putting a smile on Timur’s face. “You have to concentrate! Timur, listen to me-“
Trying to focus on the road, Timur ignored the joke and took in a deep breath. “Don’t tell me how to drive, Basuda,” he muttered back. They broke up in fits of laughter and the car returned to the legal speed limit, not risking getting pulled over by the police or worse, another crash. “Cut? Don’t cut? I do what I want, my co-driver is just there for decoration.”
Maxim winced, hissing in dramatic fashion before he reached to clasp his hand over Timur’s thigh, giving it a squeeze. “You’re never going to forgive me, are you?” He teased but then after a pause, he continued to take in Timur’s neutral expression and he pondered over what to say. “But really, I’m sorry. It was idiotic of me.”
The indicator on the fuel gauge beckoned Timur to find the nearest petrol station soon, unless they wanted to be stranded in the middle of nowhere. “I don’t plan on breaking your nose anytime soon,” he told Maxim with a grin. “C’mon, don’t be daft. We’re a team. I’d rather lose with you than anyone else.”
Eventually they found a twenty-four hour petrol station and pulled over for a quick refill, a drink to quench their thirst. Although once they were inside the store and Timur’s eye caught the fluorescent flashing lights of the freezer, he gravitated towards it. They walked out with popsicles too and Timur drove them towards the nearby beach where they found themselves some privacy.
Closer to the sea, the air was crisp and a light breeze picked up. They sat on the bonnet of the car and looked over the churning waves, the stretches of undisturbed golden sand. With the engine switched off, they were surrounded by only the whispering of nature and Maxim put an arm around Timur to shield him from the wind. He offered Timur a taste of his pineapple ice pop and they exchanged momentarily before returning their snack with a grimace. Timur preferred his sweet, while Maxim always opted for sour flavours.
By now the sun was beginning to rise in the horizon and the sky bloomed with a vivid orange, bleeding into the pale blue. To watch the world drift by was oddly calming and they rested here, freed from burdening thoughts. Timur leaned his head against Maxim’s shoulder and held onto his hand.
“Is it bad that I just want to go home?” He asked.
“I can drive us if you’re too tired.”
“No. Home. ”
Maxim glanced down at him before smiling. “Another few days, then we’ll go back to Russia and the second we drive into Vladivostok, you’ll be begging for the next rally to come,” he pointed out and Timur smiled because he knew him too well.
“And we’ll win the next one,” Timur added, comforted by the touch of their bare skin and the cooling gust passing by.
Despite being sensitive to the intense sunlight, Timur never quite tanned after burning. The sun rested against his pale skin and Maxim took a moment to appreciate the pleasant sight before he reached to caress Timur’s cheek. Eyes flickered down to lips, breaths hesitated in anticipation then Maxim captured him in a tender kiss. His tongue tasted of sweet syrup, the artificial flavour of strawberry. Maxim was drawn to it no matter what, even if it was sickly saccharine.
They pulled away at the distant rumble of an approaching car and returned to gazing at the barren beach.
“We’ll win the title,” Maxim corrected moments after.
The last of the dusk gave way to the sun as it arched across the sky. The coastal breeze was beginning to pick up and the light grew stronger, almost blazing now. Traffic returned as locals drove to work and by then they decided they would make the drive back to the hotel. Maxim turned the keys in his palms several times as he braced himself for the silent journey home where he would have to navigate on his own while his co-driver snoozed in the passenger seat, cheek pressed against cool glass.
They buckled their seatbelts and Maxim adjusted the seat. He glanced around before pausing to look at Timur.
“Do you know where we are?”
A sheepish grin brightened Timur’s weary face. “No idea,” he admitted and watched as Maxim unlocked his phone. “Did we go far?”
Impressed, Maxim gave a nod and he set his GPS map to direct them back to the hotel. “I hope you feel better,” he murmured as they returned to the road.
“I do.” Timur’s gaze softened. “Thank you.”