Work Text:
“I’m going to miss you like hell and it’s not even our fault we’re going separate ways. What the fuck.”
Oliver has been pretenting to bang his head against the wall of Kimi’s bedroom for a quarter of an hour now. On the other end there’s Kimi listening, seated on his side of the bed, swinging his legs forwards and backwards.
He hates to use swear words. But it’s been… hard. Fuck, he’s an “adult”, 19 years of age. He’s had other teammates. But the thought of parting ways with Kimi leaves him defeated, in some way.
Sure, they had been lucky enough to both have a contract for next season, but something was not right deep into Ollie’s soul.
He turns around, arms swaying in an exhagerated, cartoonish way.
“And you know the thing? The BEST thing out of all of this situation? I fucking fell in love with il mio bellissimo teammate and I honestly have no fucking idea how I’m gonna do without him”
(Kimi smiles in a soft nod, giggling at the way his partner felt the need to accentuate the term “beautiful”).
That’s probably THE reason the split up will hurt even worse this time.
With a defeated huff, he lets himself fall on the soft space-themed, heaven-smelling bedsheets. He then waddles near kimi, resting his head on his thigh. Kimi’s hand goes immediately in his hair, gently massaging his scalp.
“Don’t forget about me after Abu Dhabi. Please.”
“I’m certainly not going to, amore mio.”
Oliver doesn’t want Kimi to forget. He himself doesn’t want to forget, too. He doesn’t want to forget all that they’ve been through, their highs and lows. From having to deal with one nightmare of a car to coming to terms with an half-season-long slow burn.
He doesn’t want that weird “I’ve not forgotten, I’m just cherishing the memory” either, just like another couple of drivers before them. He wishes he could live forever in these moments.
Kimi’s hand into his hair, the other softly stroking his cheek, all while planting kisses on his beauty marks now and then.
The yellow hue of his bedside lamp gets reflected on the perfectly lined, shiny little trophies on the nearest shelf. He knows he loves them.
He has religiously heard every story about every one of them, and remembers about all of them; especially that one where he slept hugging his favorite and woke up with red signs all over his face.
He has memorized every centimeter of that room: his study table, always full of piles of homework or work schedules, or the pen-holder-Sebastian-Vettel-mug he once swore in an interview he had hidden somewhere (he actually was pretty proud of it). He knows the different clothing arrangements in his closet, the exact spot where his lover yells at him everytime ”is this outfit THAT bad!?”, or even his own side on Kimi’s bed, from where Kimi calls him every night with a faint “Ollie, vuoi venire qua vicino a me?”.
Kimi, over the three month break from F2, started inviting Oliver more often at his house, and they soon realized the italian’s bedroom became sort of their own little microcosmos.
It was nice. Knowing that Oliver was going to be there waiting for him whenever he came back home. Having all the time they wanted to enjoy each other’s presence.
Ollie didn’t finish school, at all. He left it at sixteen, what an age to do so, he still thinks. Modena didn’t quite feel like home though.
Cooking, doing the dishes, watching TV. Doing homework together and Oliver having to carry Kimi upstairs when he fell asleep on his study papers. It all felt so domestic, so right. Things so mundane, so small yet that he had missed and craved for something that felt like centuries.
So that's why he's scared to forget, and especially being forgotten. He’s scared he’s gonna miss all of this, or completely remove it from memory.
Kimi sighs back, resting his back on the bedframe and interrupting oliver’s line of thoughts.
“I think… I wanna take all this ‘joining-F1-together’ thing as a sign. It needs to be. The universe didn’t put us together and make us love each other this much for nothing, I can feel it.”
Ollie sits up, stretching and fixing his hair in the mirror.
“You know… it’s not going to be the same thing anymore. I mean, I’m still going to love you til I’m dead, really – he says, bending over to kiss his boy on the nose. (kimi giggles and blushes at this) – but…”
“But?”
“I’m just scared we will never be able to do the things we do right now anymore. Even just, you know, being here and cuddling on your childhood bed. And I’m-“
Ollie can’t continue with the lump in his throat forming as he says aloud his next sentence. “And my biggest fear is to… lose you. Basically. And even if I had to I never want you to forget-.”
“Oh, amore mio” kimi exhales, kissing his lips shut lovingly. Ollie melts into the kiss, his tensed up body realizing he’s safe into Kimi’s arms.
The italian pinches the tip of his nose.
“I dont want you any further from my life. Ever. Don’t you forget that.”
Then a moment of silence follows, and Kimi speaks again.
“I promise you we are gonna go far.
I wanna share a podium with you one day, you know? We never got the chance to do so in Prema.”
Ollie looks up at him in amused shock. “Podium? In a Haas? Kimi, vai a dormire amore”
“You’re an amazing driver, Ollie. You could pull that off!”
“Come on, you’re being delusional”
“It’s called ‘really optimistic’ in my opinion”
“If i ever get podium in a haas, I’m gonna ask you to marry me on the spot”
The room goes quiet for a brief moment enough for kimi’s mind to wander. Him? Married to who? Oliver james bearman? The absolute love of his life?
And oh god, he’s getting those butterflies in his stomach again, like the first time they kissed in secret behind the Prema garage.
Oliver clears his throat. Kimi can clearly see his pale cheeks turned red. “Uh. Just. Just imagine…” He fiddles with the laces of Kimi’s hoodie.
Kimi snaps back to reality. “Si… immagina”.