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“Growing up with George for instance, was a lot of fun. He was a great person, but it is different at Mercedes – a different vibe and a different atmosphere. I just don't see as fun a side of him.”
George drops his phone on the table, pulls his hand away like he’s been burned. The photo of Lando with the text next to it stares up at him. Lando, his friend since childhood, had said this?
Logically, he knows that it might be out of context. A quick google shows him that the only places reporting on it were the Mirror and the Express, trash magazines looking for a quick headline.
But the logic of it doesn't stop the pit in his stomach, the panic sweeping over him. He itches to pick up his phone, to call Lando, to figure out what was going on, but he feels frozen, stuck in time. Closing his eyes, he sees the words as if painted on his eyelids. He was a great person but it is different at Mercedes.
He’s still sitting there, phone on the table, screen long since turned off, eyes shut and shaking when Lewis finds him.
“George?” The silky smooth voice, followed by gentle, probing hands, pull him from his state slightly.
Dark, tattooed fingers brush over his eyelids, erasing the words he can’t un-see.
“Sweetheart?” The voice is closer now and George forces his eyes open, watery blues met with deep, reassuring brown ones.
“Sorry, I-” George blinks, “Sorry.”
Lewis shakes his head at the apology, takes George’s hands in his, rubbing soothing circles over his skin.
“What’s going on?”
George shakes his head, “Nothing.”
“Did you see the Lando quote?”
“You saw that?” George panics, pulling his hands away from Lewis.
“Unfortunately,” Lewis says bitterly.
If Lewis had seen it, that meant other people had. So many other people. Everyone was going to know what Lando thought. What George was like now.
He feels his breathing pick up and hears Lewis shift cautiously next to him.
“George,” Lewis’ voice cuts through, clean and clear. “George, can you hear me?”
George forces himself to nod.
“Okay good,” Lewis breathes, “Can you take a breath for me?”
He tries, but it gets stuck, caught in his throat, tangled with the feeling of letting down a friend.
“It’s okay,” Lewis encourages, “Try again.”
George manages to take a breath, and then another. Lewis is talking, only a few words getting through to his brain. ”You’re doing so well,” he hears, “Good job, George. You’re so good.”
And that’s when the tears come.
Lewis is hovering, trying to get through to George, and all George can think is how embarrassing it is to be crying in front of Sir Lewis Hamilton and that compounded with the comments from Lando mixed with the need, the soul-crushing desire to be liked, nearly crushes him.
He sobs and lets himself be pulled into Lewis’s embrace, can’t handle the feelings anymore. They wash over him, and he stops fighting the tide, lets himself get dragged out to sea.
But things start to come back. He can feel Lewis’s strong hands stroking over his back, smells the familiar scent of Lewis’s body wash, his shampoo, the soft brush of Lewis’ hair against his cheek. He hears Lewis’s heart beat against his ear, faster than normal. Lewis is worried and George forces himself to come back, to stop the worry.
“Sorry,” he breathes out.
Lewis blinks and lets out the breath he’s been holding, “It’s okay love. It’s okay.”
George’s phone is buzzing on the table, Lando’s contact photo filling the screen.
Lewis reaches over and declines the call.
“Who does he think he is?” Lewis mutters, turning back to George.
“What if he’s right?” George bites his lip.
“What if he is?” Lewis shrugs, “So you’re more serious now? You should be. You’re racing for the best team in Formula 1.”
George bristles, “I don’t-”
“I know you want to be liked, George,” Lewis strokes his cheek, “But being serious about racing isn’t a bad thing. And the people who matter don’t care that you’ve changed.”
Lewis stands up and starts pacing, “Really, Lando needs to learn how to be more serious.”
“Lew-”
“No, he does. And he needs to learn to listen to his PR people and not talk shit.”
George chuckles softly at Lewis’ passion, crossing his arms to watch his boyfriend stalk back and forth.
The phone rings again, Lando calling. But this time, Lewis answers the phone.
“Norris.” He says coldly.
George can’t hear Lando’s side of the conversation, but the smirk twitching on Lewis’ lips tells him all he needs to know. Lando is scared.
“You can speak to him,” Lewis’ eyes flick to him for approval and George nods, “But it had better be to apologize.”
Lewis passes the phone to George.
“Hi,” George says dumbly.
”George, fuck, I’m so sorry.” Lando’s voice is hurried over the phone, “I didn’t know they’d use that, they took it out of context!”
“Which one is it?” George asks, coldly, “Did they take it out of context or did you not think they’d use it?”
Lewis gives him a nod of approval.
“I said it but-” Lando groans, “But I didn’t mean it like that. They cut the part where I explained what I meant.”
“All I saw was that you think I’m no fun anymore.”
“I know,” Lando sighs, “I know, I’m sorry.”
George lets the silence hang between them.
“It’s true, Georgie,” Lando huffs, “You changed when you went to Mercedes. But it’s not a bad thing!”
George can imagine him running his hands through his rogue curls, tugging on the ends.
“It’s just different and that’s my problem,” Lando explains, “But I’m proud of you, and that’s where I was trying to go with this.”
“You’re proud of me?”
“Of course, George!” Lando exclaims, “You’ve deserved this for so long and you’ve got it.”
“Thank you,” George says quietly.
“Are- are we okay?” Lando asks quietly.
“Yeah, we’re okay.” George nods, “Talk later, okay?”
“Bye, Georgie.”
George hangs up the phone, and Lewis looks up at him expectantly.
“Things are okay,” George explains lamely, “I guess.”
Exhaustion washes over him, his resolve wavering again. Lewis looks like he wants to push but sighs.
“Why don’t we just watch a movie and order some takeout?” Lewis suggests, earning a smile from George.
“I’d like that,” George smiles softly.
He heads for the living room and then adds, “Lew, I’m sorry about earlier.”
Lewis looks up from his phone where he's browsing UberEats, frowning slightly, “You never have to apologize to me about being upset.”
“I’m just embarrassed.”
“I know,” Lewis crosses the room, taking George’s hand. “And that’s okay, to feel that way. But it doesn’t change anything for me.”
George ducks his head, blushing slightly. ”It doesn’t change,” Lewis continues, tilting George’s chin up with his other hand, “that I love you.”
George's eyes widen, the first time he’s heard the words from the man across from him. “You do?”
“I do.” He leans in, pressing their lips together.
“I love you too,” George mumbles against his lips.
Lewis grins, pushing George backward towards the living room, “Now, go choose a movie, Mr. Serious.”