Chapter Text
1993
The first time Lewis sees him, he's going to school.
He stops skating when he sees an expensive gray car. He doesn't think he's ever seen one of those in person. It takes all his self-control not to run up to it and touch it. He'll probably get told off.
He doesn't know whom he's expecting to be in said car, or why he's so surprised to see a kid his age come out of it.
He's never seen the blond boy that shily steps out of the Mercedes-Benz. He wonders where he is going, considering the school is at least another couple of hundred meters away. There must be a rich people's school close by. Maybe he has never seen it, maybe he's not even allowed to see it.
He glances inside the car and sees who he assumes to be the boy's father. He thinks he recognizes him from somewhere, but he's not sure.
The father leaves the blonde boy alone with a nervous smile. Lewis hears a timid ‘good luck’ and then immediately turns around to avoid getting caught and keeps skating forward, the stingy breeze in his eyes quickly distracting him.
But that’s not the last time Lewis sees that boy. Actually, he finds out pretty soon that he does go to his school. So, there is no rich private school nearby, after all.
He notices him daily. It’s hard not to, his shiny blond hair and his shiny clothes stand out amongst the crowd.
“Is that guy new?”
“What guy?” Angela asks as she sits down next to Lewis, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, not looking up from her lunch box.
“The blond kid that eats alone every time.”
She finally looks up at him. “You’re not talking about the weird rich dude are you?”
“Weird rich dude?”
“Yeah, apparently his father is a millionaire, he lives in a mansion.”
“And why is he weird again?”
“I don’t know, people just say that. ”
“Mh.”
“I think people expected him to throw a big party and invite the cool kids, but he never did.”
Angela returns to eating her lunch and quickly forgets about it, but he can’t let it go. There’s something about this kid that makes Lewis extremely curious.
He sits down quietly, almost as if he’s scared the other kid is going to run away.
He might, Lewis doesn’t know what rich people have in mind.
The kid looks scared, and Lewis doesn’t know why he thought it would have gone differently.
He extends his hand after making sure it is clean enough. “I am Lewis.”
But moments of silence pass and he grows impatient. He expects anything, but the possibility of the other kid excusing himself and leaving the table never crossed his mind.
Except that is exactly what happens.
He gets up and leaves, no words spoken, no smiles shared.
So, he is left there, his untouched hand dropping to his side. And as blood rushes to his cheeks, Lewis hopes no one saw the rejection he just endured.
Fortunately, no one does, not even Angela, who gets distracted as soon as Peter joins her back at their table. He shakes his head and goes back to his seat, pressing his lips in a sort of smile to greet his other friend.
The rejection still stings Lewis as he’s eating, but at least - he thinks - he has friends and doesn’t ignore people trying to be nice to him.
But those friends don’t show up to school one day. They’re both sick; one has a cold and one has tonsillitis.
Lewis is not scared of eating lunch by himself, he’s done it times before, he doesn’t care. He likes being alone sometimes, no matter how much he loves his friends.
And Lewis is happily eating his meal when he sits down, quiet as a mouse, looking down at Lewis’s lunch, with blond strands covering his gaze. No words come out of his mouth, his lips are pressed together in an expression that is slightly more frowny than Lewis’s.
Lewis sits there for a while, waiting for anything to happen, then he grows impatient.
"I don't bite, you know."
The kid still doesn't speak so he shrugs and gets up. “Alright." He tries to grab his lunch box but a hand stops him by blocking his wrist in a warm grasp.
"I am sorry, I don't know how to act. I’ve never been to school before."
Lewis almost gasps at his voice. It’s different from what he expected. No posh accent, no arrogance, just a slightly unrecognizable accent. He waits for more words to understand better his character.
“I am Nico. You’re Lewis, right?”
Lewis’s lips are gapped as he nods. German. He sounds German. He’s intrigued, he feels as if he could sit there and listen to him speak for hours.
“Yeah, I am Lewis. Where are you from?”
“It’s complicated,” he laughs softly, “I am mostly German, but I used to live in Monaco.”
Lewis feels his collar tighten around his neck. This kid is another type of rich. Maybe if Lewis befriends him he’ll buy him candy, or a new skateboard for his birthday. He doubts it.
Amused at his own thoughts, Lewis forces himself to speak up again, “Why did you move?”
“Uhm.” He seems even more uncomfortable now, and Lewis feels guilty about putting him on the spot. “I had to move because of karting.”
Lewis’s eyes light up.
And that’s how their friendship starts, from shared chips at lunch and conversations about Senna.
Fair to say, Angela is not amused.
“You’re going to that guy’s house?”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“He is - she snorts - I don’t know he gives me bad vibes. And you don’t know him either, he could be bad! He’s a stranger, after all. What if his father kidnaps you?”
“Ange, I saw his father already, I’ll be fine. He looks familiar, maybe he’s famous.”
“And he didn’t tell you?”
“Maybe he is just that shy.”
Angela is not amused, but Lewis goes to Nico’s after school anyway, bringing a pack of chocolates his father carefully picked up from the store the previous day and that he was instructed not to eat before arriving at the new friend’s house.
Nico lives in the prettiest house Lewis has ever stepped in; it’s clean and bright and it smells like lavender, vanilla, and expensive cologne.
He waits for him in the garden, holding a newspaper, carefully focused on the sports page.
“Donington?”
Nico smiles brightly, “Yes!”
Lewis can’t help but smile back. “What a lap!”
“I wish I could be like him someday.”
“Yeah.”
“Can I ask you something?”
Lewis nods without even looking, sitting down on the porch and getting a glimpse of his untied shoelaces.
“Why don’t you try out karting?”
Lewis is unsure if telling the rich guy next to him that his dad is doing his best already, and he doesn’t want him to spend any more money than he has to.
Will the privileged kid understand the concept of being a burden? Will he talk to him again if he knows he’s poor?
Nevertheless, Lewis’s pride wins.
“It’s quite expensive.”
He has nothing to be ashamed of, he thinks, as he sees the kid in front of him pondering over what he expects is ignorance of his privilege.
Except it’s not.
“What if I asked my dad to let you borrow one of my old ones?”
Lewis’s eyes widen and he looks around unsure of what to say, but the glee of the moment disappears as soon as he realizes there’s no way his dad will allow him to accept such a gift.
Lewis had to get his pride somewhere.
“My dad says he hates pity gifts.”
Nico looks offended for a second, “It’s not pity! I am trying to help you out!”
He sounds and looks very sincere, and Lewis is slowly backing away from the thought that the kid is an idiot the more he talks to him.
“What if I talk to my father and he talks to yours?”
Lewis is surprised, Nico is much smarter than what he was crediting him.
“You could try, I guess.”
He doesn’t let his guard down, yet.
Rich people are devious, or so his father says, and no one helps you out without wanting anything in return.
And Lewis is just wondering what the rich, smart, and talented kid who lives in a mansion might want from him.