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Brazil 2021. Sunday evening.
Eventually the sun set over this more than iconic track, painting it golden, bringing it to life. It was a beautiful sight and it was all that mattered. Time seemed to have taken a step back, not really present in this glorious sunset, not really meaningful anymore in this endless moment. The last few hours, fuelled by unexpected, hard fought victory, stretched until the inevitable first colours of a new morning would soften the rough edges of what this weekend had left behind.
Tomorrow, or today, Lewis didn’t know for sure if it had been midnight already, was the beginning of another race week, no rest for the wicked. But in those dark, but unexpectedly happy moments that didn’t feel real. Not yet.
Normally he would spend a night like this with the team, going out, celebrating, creating the new embarrassing stories Shov could gossip about with his mates back in Brackley. Or staying inside anonymous hotel rooms too small to hold all the people and their overflowing happiness. Lewis cherished those nights, maybe even more than the wins they were so tightly interwoven with, the way they made him feel connected, part of something bigger and brighter than himself. He was forever grateful for the memories he got to experience with this crew. His team, Angela, Toto, Bono. Niki.
A soft smile as he turned his back to the track, now almost dark. Oh how he missed the old man, especially after all that had happened the last three days. One might call it sentimental, maybe even superstitious, but Lewis had started looking up at the star-filled sky at night a lot more since the Austrian had passed away and he’d swear he was out there. Somewhere. And if he closed his eyes, just like he did right now, he could picture it clearly: Niki would have smiled. His rare, real smile after this unbelievable achievement and he would’ve taken his red hat off, a mischievous glint in his sparkling eyes. A promise of a wild night and a promise of a repetition of it next weekend.
But Niki wasn’t here with them to push them into crazy hotel room parties and most of the men and women had simply been too exhausted after this race to do anything but crash onto the nearest flat surface and sleep till the plane to Qatar would leave. Lewis really couldn’t blame them. He had said goodnight to Toto, his pitcrew, James, Mike and everyone else that had come to congratulate him and he hoped they had understood the enormous gratitude in his voice. They deserved the quiet of a peaceful night. The unlucky ones of the team, those still needed on track, to pack everything away, to coordinate transport and to get ready for a next event as if this hadn’t happened, had left while grabbing all the caffeinated drinks they could find. Even Angela had gone up to her room already.
Part of Lewis wished he would be able to go to sleep too, but he knew he was in for a restless night. He had felt the headache come up just after the big celebrations underneath the podium and while he had blamed it on the hot weather, cold champagne and too many emotions at the time, it had not gotten any better, not after drinking nothing but water, not even in the almost complete dark hotel room he was in now.
What would help was taking painkillers, but Lewis decided to try waiting it out a bit longer, not really liking the effect those pills would have on his thoughts and the rest of his body. Hopefully, if he laid down, closed his eyes and tried to sleep, it wouldn’t be too bad. It was moments like this that made him miss Roscoe more than usual. And it was moments like this that sometimes, even when he didn’t like acknowledging it, made him long for someone who would be there for him. Someone to talk to about all the conflicting feelings running circles in his head, someone to watch the sunset over the track with, someone who would convince him to go to bed while putting a glass of water on the nightstand, someone to hold him when he felt vulnerable and unable to defend himself against a sometimes unnecessary cruel world. A few years ago he would’ve opened a bottle of wine now, to try and get rid of this threatening melancholy, but that wasn’t what he wanted nor needed, not anymore.
There was however something that would help, or that would at least relieve his headache a bit and that was taking out the carefully made braids he loved so much. But that was a bit complicated since the one person he always turned to to help him with it, was probably already fast asleep. He trusted Angela with it, like he trusted her with everything, and she had always been sweet about it, realizing how important and personal it was to him. It was weirdly intimate and he didn’t want to ask just anyone. His brother, maybe. And his dad, but they weren’t here and thinking about them made him realize how much he missed them, how much he missed home. Even if he couldn’t exactly pinpoint where and what home was to him.
A bit funny, how these thoughts were so stubbornly stuck in his head after a day that ended so incredibly victorious. On the other hand, Lewis wasn’t entirely surprised, no matter how sweet the success, there had been another thought predominant the whole weekend and he didn’t like that one at all. It felt like they were losing control and that was honestly scarier than everything they’d faced so far as a team.
Lewis sighed, he knew overthinking like this would do nothing for the pain in his head and it was completely irrational to think he could find a solution for the feeling that their grip on this season was slipping away fast overnight, but he still could find someone to ask for help with his braids and to maybe confide in on how all of this was weighing on him. Having made up his mind he turned around, grabbed the key from the nightstand and closed the hotel room door behind him. There was only one place to go.
Two floors up he knocked on an identical door, hoping that the man he was looking for wasn’t asleep already. He’d almost accepted his defeat when the lock turned and the door opened. Bono looked surprised, clearly not expecting his driver at this time of night. And Lewis couldn’t blame him, he just felt a wave of relief wash over him, a wave so powerful it almost made him tear up. Bono was here, dressed in an old grey sweater and dark pyjama pants. He was still awake, he was here. All would be well. Or at least all would be better.
The surprise in Bono’s eyes quickly turned into concern when Lewis didn’t say anything. He noticed the frown on his driver’s face and stepped aside, urging the younger man to come in. Lewis took the invitation, quickly stepping into this very similar hotelroom, breathing out as Bono closed the door behind them, not even having realized he’d been holding his breath. Bono led him further inside and Lewis saw he’d must have been reading in bed when he had knocked on the door, the sheets ruffled and a technical book hastily cast aside on top of them. A small bedside lamp was the only source of light in the otherwise completely dark room and Lewis’s head was thankful for it.
‘Ey man, thanks for letting me come in’, Lewis spoke softly, realizing how much he was intruding into the other's private space. Bono smiled. ‘No problem, mate. I was just reading a bit, couldn’t really sleep yet after all that happened these days. Too much, you know?’ He placed the book on the nightstand.
Lewis nodded. He knew exactly how that felt, feeling his tiredness and running thoughts return in full force. ‘Appreciate it man, really. Do you mind if I sit down? My head is killing me.’
He closed his eyes briefly, to try and calm the ache behind them, but also because he did not really know how to deal with the worry in his engineer’s eyes. Bono nodded, ‘Of course, make yourself comfortable. Anything I can do?’
There must have been a reason his driver turned up at his door, even when he couldn’t be surprised anymore after all the bizarre turns this weekend had already taken. Lewis and him, he wasn’t really sure how to describe the two of them, especially since he couldn’t recall the time anymore when their lives were strictly separated. He was used to clear and logical reasoning in his work and he didn’t know how to define this relationship bound by common goals, held together by unbreakable loyalty and a trust that ran deeper than in most of his other, sometimes life long, friendships. But there had always been a bit of professional distance left between them, even if it never bothered him too much before. Angela had held the privilege of Lewis’s casual intimacy for the longest time and Bono had made his peace with that, even when he sometimes, in unguarded moments on the starting grid, wondered what it would be like to be allowed to touch Lewis so freely and kindly. These feelings hadn’t been there from their beginning at Mercedes, definitely not, but they had grown so much together for such a long time that Bono’s initial panic on feeling these feelings, however still mostly platonic at the time, for another man, had passed and made way for a fond acceptance of his role in Lewis’s career and life.
It had taken some time, but he could look himself in the eyes now and say, even out loud, that he loved the man currently sitting hunched over on the edge of his bed, head in his tattooed hands, not looking like the lively champion he had hugged close mere hours ago. What it meant to love him was still subject of investigation. A somewhat regular recurring theme in daydreams, in stolen moments, fuelled by too much coffee and too little sleep and it turned to be an, until now, unsolvable question he was dying to know the answer to.
Bono stood there for a moment, taking in the sight of his driver on his hotel room bed and felt a bit out of depth. No matter the history that they shared, the countless memories they had about each other and the feelings he had come to terms with, it wasn’t too often that he was alone with him like this. Thinking about it, it must have been Bahrain, the last time, all the way at the beginning of this season, when they had somehow ended up at an anonymous balcony almost all night. Talking, sipping local tea and sharing stories. It had been comfortable and easy and Bono hoped tonight was maybe meant as a repeat of that one so long ago. He could see however that Lewis was in a completely different head space right now. He most definitely was not okay. And that kicked Bono’s race engineer instincts into overdrive. He had to find out what was wrong and h had to try to fix it. That was easy. That was what he always did.
He walked over to the man on the crumbled up white sheets. ‘Your head, huh?’ he spoke softly, not wanting to cause Lewis more pain and knowing all too well how horrible a good headache could make you feel. Lewis nodded. Still not looking up. Bono turned down the little bedside lamp even more, taking a few moments to get used to the almost complete darkness. ‘Lay down, that might help. I’m gonna grab some painkillers in case you need them later.’ Lewis didn’t reply, but he kicked off his shoes and all but fell onto the bed, legs drawn up, curled into himself. Head now buried in his arms. Bono knew Lewis didn’t take medication often, he knew how it influenced his head and how he’d rather deal with being uncomfortable than having the feeling of having no control over his mind and body. But he also didn’t want to leave the other man alone for too long when he was feeling like this.
When he came back from the bathroom, painkillers and a glass of water now safely on the nightstand, Lewis took away his hands from his face and opened his eyes, slowly focussing on Bono, clearly relieved to find the room so dark. ‘A bit better,’ he whispered. ‘Wanted to ask you something…’
Silence.
Bono didn’t speak, breathing slowly, not really knowing what he could expect, but this somehow felt important and he could see the struggle on Lewis’s face, so he waited patiently. It was clear Lewis was having trouble finding the words he wanted to say. ‘This might be weird man, if so, please tell me and I leave.’ Still that quiet, soft voice, Bono had to focus pretty hard to hear.
‘Anything, Lewis, I hate to see you like this’. The words escaped him before he could think about them, but what startled him was how true it was. He would do anything for this man and that was telling a story he wasn’t sure he was ready to hear. Lewis smiled, his brown eyes still on Bono, almost as if he was trying to work out how he would react to whatever request he was about to make.
'It helps to take those braids out, but Ang is already asleep and I can't do it alone too well. So you… do you maybe want to help? No pressure, but…' The silence once again settled between them, but this time it felt like an anchor that Lewis was throwing out into the deep unknown, a lifeline he hoped would find solid ground.
'I trust you,' Lewis added, so quiet it almost didn't reach Bono.
There was so much to say and Bono knew no words would ever be enough. Trust in their world might be a given, a necessity when it came to driving insanely expensive cars through narrow blind corners, but this was different. This didn't feel like an employment related commodity. Bono chose to see it for the incredibly valuable gift it was and he knew, not everything, but enough about this man to understand how truly precious it was and how hard it must be for someone like Lewis, with all his history, with all who he was and all what he achieved, to give up control like this. Even when it was just about his hair. He had to take care of it and he promised himself and the man on the bed, for now in silence, that he would. No matter how long, no matter what he needed to do for it.
A soft smile, an ever softer voice. 'Of course, Lewis, no problem.' He had always loved to speak his name.
Lewis let out a deep breath, struggling to sit up. He managed eventually, not really sure how to handle himself in this situation now that he seemed to have placed faith in someone who wouldn't let him fall. A bit ashamed that he ever doubted the other man. On the other hand he finally was comfortable. Here in this hotel room, in this company, despite the ache in his head.
Bono came over to the bed, sitting down behind Lewis, back almost against the headrest, but not leaning against it. He had to focus on the task at hand. He reached out his right hand and couldn't help feeling like he was going to touch something sacred. 'Tell me if it hurts.' Lewis nodded. A quietude wrapped itself around them, protecting them from real life obligations and rules, hiding them in this bubble where there were no expectations, no boundaries, just them and Bono's hands in Lewis's hair.
It was harder than he had imagined, the braids twisted together after days underneath a helmet under the warm Brazilian sun and he made very slow progress. It didn't seem to bother Lewis though and with every passing minute the touches became easier, almost repetitive, calming, soothing.
Lewis sighed, feeling the pressure leave as his unruly curls sprang free under his engineer’s kind hands. It had been the right decision to come here and he realized he wasn't surprised by that conclusion. He had known for a while that he trusted Bono with more than his car and position on track, maybe it was a given, maybe it came with the job, but deep down he knew this was something else, something more. Also, something that had been simmering between them for longer than he could really remember. It had always been a comfortable warmth, but maybe it was cowardice that he never let it burn for the bonfire it could become.
This trust was something real. And that thought did stop his mind from racing. Because no matter how glamorous, fun, exhilarating and liberating their lives could be, not much of it was real. Not much of it would be there after they left this circus for good. He had felt this before though, in Bahrain, high on a victory he couldn't have gained without the man currently undoing his braids. He had realized on that balcony that he couldn’t lose this, whatever it was, whatever it would be. It was something important. Something worth chasing after and he should have done that sooner.
Bono had finished with the braids in the back of his hair and maybe without realising he ran his hands through the soft curls, marveling at how much they resembled his lively personality. Lewis wondered, as he, not too subtle, leaned into the touch, if he was making the same face Roscoe made when someone scratched his ears. That thought made him smile and a soft giggle escaped him. He felt Bono's hands stop their gentle movements, but before he could complain the engineer's voice wrapped around him. 'Something funny?' He sounded soft, a little amused, but it wasn't hard to notice the relief in his tone. He sounded happy that Lewis was apparently feeling a little bit better. And that added to the warmth in his heart that was so close to igniting.
'Just thinking about Ros, I miss the little man.'
'I can imagine, he's lovely to be around.'
Before Lewis could get lost in missing his beloved buddy, Bono brought him back to their, so carefully constructed, bubble.
'Do you want me to take out the rest too, by the way? Cause you need to turn around for that then, I guess?'
There was a hint of uncertainty in Bono's voice now. And Lewis had never been one to avoid risks, so without thinking he jumped, knowing in his heart that Bono wouldn't let him crash. Not on track. And not here.
'Or I can lie down,' was the final warning, even if Bono couldn't possibly know what he was about to do. Lewis stretched his legs in front of him, scooting down on the bed a bit, closed his eyes and laid down until his head was resting in the other man's lap. Bono still sitting cross-legged against the headrest.
There was something shifting inside the room, between them, and Lewis held his breath, curiously awaiting to which side the balance would tip, if his leap of faith would be rewarded. He shouldn't have worried. He felt Bono exhale and a soft hand was back in his hair. He didn't want to open his eyes, that would mean really taking in their new position in their own small world and that was a little too much, even with the relief coursing through his body.
The thoughts that hadn't stopped him from taking the jump and practically throwing himself at his engineer caught up with him, gripping him by the throat. But once again Bono caught him, this time with a soft touch on his still tender forehead.
'Okay, this works, too.'
And he got back to what he had been doing, carefully, meticulously untangling Lewis’s hair.
Lewis felt the last bit of tension leave him and his headache was now almost non-existent. It was peaceful and that wasn't something he felt very often, especially not since the second half of this season. Bono seemed calm too, apparently not too fazed by this uncommon, but maybe not undesired, intimacy, because when the last tight braid was set free, he kept his hands in Lewis's soft hair, gently stroking it, twirling it around his fingers as he smiled softly at the blissful look on his driver’s face.
After minutes that could have been hours or seconds, Bono's hands started to wander, and now it was him holding his breath as he gently stroked down Lewis's face to his cheeks, resting his hands on warm skin. Lewis smiled, Bono felt it before he saw it, mesmerised by the trust that was hidden in that expressive face. His eyes were still closed and Bono felt the sudden urge to trace those new lines around on his lips, to touch that visible sign of ease, of happiness. But that would once again cause a shift and he didn't really know if they were really heading there, just like he never really figured out if Lewis had come to him just because Angela wasn't there or if there was something else, too, that had led him to his hotel room, to his current position in Bono's lap.
If he had learned one thing however during his years as a race engineer, if you're unsure: ask. And while he didn't always practice that in his personal life, the atmosphere in this anonymous hotel room made him brave. Lewis had taken the first and hardest step after all.
'Why did you come to me, Lewis?' The words danced through the dark, but there was no accusation, no uncertainty in them, just honesty and he watched them land, saw the small frown in Lewis's eyebrows, wanted to stroke it away. How people could call this man fake would always be a miracle to him.
The honesty seemed to make Lewis just a little bit braver too, and a brave Lewis was a force to be reckoned with. He opened his eyes, not looking away when they immediately met the grey ones looking down at him. His voice was soft, too, but sure, like he didn't really have to think about it.
'I trust you with my life, Bono.'
It was what it was. It was what it would always come down to in their hectic lives. Trust. And it led both to a thousand more question marks and a clarity and he hadn't felt before.
'So this is trust?' Both a logical question and a statement of full comprehension.
Lewis moved, his right hand coming up to cover Bono's, which was still cradling his cheek. The touch replaced the need for words. It removed the necessity of giving names to all that they were, friends, colleagues, partners. Here in this safety of being nothing but themselves, Lewis took Bono's hand in his, turned his face into it and pressed his lips against the palm of his hand. A promise, until they would find the right words.
'I trust you with my life, too, Lewis. Only you.' That lovely smile again, now felt against his hand.
'Only you. For me too man.' It felt like the confession it probably wasn't meant to be. But there were no rules here and this was as close as they could get to calling it what it was.
'I'm glad you came to me tonight, even though I hate to see you in pain. But honestly I was beginning to wonder sometimes if Bahrain was even real.'
Oh Bahrain, they both wished they had been braver. Why had it taken them so long when that night had done something to the both of them?
'Look at me, Bono. Please.'
Their eyes met again, Lewis turning his head, their hands still intertwined against his cheek.
'This is real. And so was Bahrain. Maybe I didn't know what to call it afterwards and maybe that frightened me, maybe it still does. But I trust that you'll find a nice catchphrase for it.' His eyes twinkled. 'You should probably stop with the hammertime thing though.'
Bono laughed, head thrown back, before focussing on the man in his lap once again. He could see all of a sudden how beautiful this could be. It made his heart swell with a happiness he normally reserved for euphoric, rare victories on track.
Bono didn't know how long it took him to get lost in Lewis's eyes, just like he didn’t know how long it had been since the driver had laid his head on his folded legs. The precious time, they normally chased after hungrily, was kind to them and when his legs started to go numb, he didn't need to speak, they understood each other after all.
No words were spoken as they sat up, took off their almost identical team wear, until they were sitting across from each other in nothing but black and white boxers. It probably should have been awkward, but he had seen this man before, even if he had never really looked like he was allowed to do now. He had always been drawn to the intricate lines and shapes on Lewis's skin, now even more with the unsaid promise that he would be allowed to trace them. Lewis's curls were dancing freely and for the briefest moment they reminded Bono of a lion's mane.
Lewis had accepted some time ago that the thoughts he had about his race engineer being attractive were mostly saying something about him. Something he had wanted to discover, but also something that scared him because of all that he had been told while growing up in the spotlights. There was a sacredness in this moment of just watching each other sitting on the bed in the dark. He had realised a lot about himself the last few years, about his place in boxes, his ability, or lack thereof, to define himself with labels others seemed to use so easily. But for the first time he felt as if the pieces he had been shuffling around had clicked together in a way that made sense.
When they curled up against each other, Lewis's head on Bono’s chest, Bono's lips pressing soft kisses on his hair, their arms around the other, their legs tangled together, breathing each other in, unhurried, because they would have so much time now that they were here, Lewis felt the urge to determine exactly what this was disappear. Because here, with Bono, he could just be himself and the words would come, because Bono was already understanding everything he wasn't saying.
The next morning they would call it love.