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“Unbelievable! Absolutely unbelievable! For the first time in Formula 1, and for the last race of this thrilling season, Joshua Pearce wins!!”
“It is good news for APXGP, I’ll tell you that. Next year’s grid keeps the same formula of eleven teams, and what a relief that must be for Ruben Cervantes to hear.”
“I’d be relieved, too. They’ve pulled off a miracle!”
Sonny Hayes feels the same way, because he’s won against all odds. Joshua won against all odds – and somehow, that feels even better than if he had done it.
“Sonny,” comes Nickleby’s voice on the radio, “he did it. He’s won it. Well done.”
“Congratulate him, not me.” Sonny’s grin is impossibly big on his face. “Tell him he’s done well. That’s from me, not you, okay? Don’t you go taking the credit for my praise.”
Nickleby laughs. “Copy. Good job once again. Mega. The team is really proud of you… Ruben is overjoyed.” Another laugh. “Feels like we’ve become constructor champions.”
Sonny snorts. “Yeah, long way to go ‘til then, but keep that energy. You’ll need it.”
“We’ll need it.”
It’s with that statement that Sonny’s heart sinks. The next words out of his mouth come out with a particular difficulty – with a slight wavering of heart.
“Yeah. We… we will.”
The radio turns off. With a soft sigh, Sonny taps his head against the steering wheel once.
This is it. His last race in Formula 1. He made peace with it nine races ago, knowing he wouldn’t race more than this season. It was a charity case, a small-time mission – and now, he’s done it. Onto the next adventure. That’s how it always is.
So why is there this hole in his heart?
Fireworks boom around him, the sky lighting up in celebration. The fans roar in the stands – this is a season closer worthy of Formula 1. The podium is lined up with legend Lewis Hamilton in third, Sonny taking a decent second, and Joshua on the top step, for the first out of undoubtedly many times.
As he drives around the circuit to get to parking, Sonny’s car pulls up next to Joshua’s. The younger sees him and instantly waves, excitement clear by the way he bounces in the car.
They obviously can’t hear each other over the constant noise, but that doesn’t mean Sonny can’t congratulate him in his own way. He lets go of the steering wheel and claps twice in Joshua’s direction, and the younger just waves more as a ‘thank you’.
Pulling up into parking feels surreal, especially getting to be in front of the number 2. Usually, Sonny would think this a loss – after all, second place is the first loser. Now, though, he can’t think of anything except Joshua’s joy.
The British driver rises from his car, arms wide in celebration. He looks around as if this all is surreal, and Sonny can’t blame him. He runs into the arms of the team, and Kate is in the front row, embracing him as if her own child. The woman is mostly to be congratulated for this – after all, it’s her car that’s done this miraculous job. Sonny deeply admires her, and hopes the team will acknowledge her achievements, as well as all those that doubted her. She deserves it more than anyone.
Joshua turns to the crowd, arms still open – and then, he’s turning to Sonny, and before he can process what’s happening, the young man has squeezed him into a giant hug.
“SONNYYYYY!!” he practically screams into his ear. “WE FUCKING DID IT, SONNY! WE DID IT, OLD MAN!!!”
Sonny laughs, helmets clanking against one another. With the way Joshua is holding him, it almost looks like a kiss.
“We sure did, JP,” Sonny shouts back. “You did a great job. It’s all you, kid.”
“Nah,” Joshua replies, “it’s all us! Don’t get sentimental on me now, take some credit!”
Sonny grins, forgetting, if only for a while, that he will never see this man again after this night. His heart threatens to burst with his love for him. He dares to get lost in this moment, dares to hope for more from this adventure.
“You know what? You’re right. We did it – and we did a damn great job.”
“Now that’s the spirit!”
Joshua takes off his helmet, and Sonny follows suit. The younger is radiating with joy – seriously, Sonny thinks that sparkle in his eye could be used as a flashlight in this dark night. He’s on top of the world. He’d jokingly remind him Max Verstappen won the championship, not him, but to Joshua, this impossible win probably reads the same as a title.
“Sonny,” Kate shouts suddenly. “They need you.”
She gestures towards the interviewers waiting for him, Lewis almost done giving his thoughts on the race. Sonny and Joshua exchange glances and walk towards the media, cheers and screams following them all throughout.
“…Overall, I’m pleased with this result,” they hear Lewis, who is smiling ear-to-ear. “You know, the car’s been unpredictable this season, but it cooperated well with me this race. P3 was the best we could do, and I’ll happily take it. And, you know, a massive congratulations to Joshua for getting his first win…”
Joshua’s eyes light up even more once he hears Lewis mention him. Sonny chuckles, shaking his head. Joshua’s admiration for Sir Hamilton is no secret – any F1 fan that respects themselves, also respects the 7-time champion. Joshua does even much more so, since the older basically paved the way for Joshua himself into F1.
“It’s just such a good feeling to see young talent in F1, especially young black talent,” Lewis continues. “I’m so happy he was given a seat, he deserves it more than anyone. I’m sure this is just the beginning for him.”
“Thank you, Lewis,” the interviewer says, and Lewis nods with a smile before making way for the next driver. “Sonny?”
“Be there,” Sonny nods, walking up to the spot.
He gives his thoughts as well, commenting on the team’s strategy and their improvement over the last nine races. He thanks Ruben for the opportunity to drive for them, thanks Kate and the team for the car, that kind of sappy stuff he knows sells well. Some of it is bullshit that looks good on paper, but, ironically, Sonny finds that most of it is honest.
He’s actually going to miss this team.
There’s a lump in his throat when he makes way for Joshua, and he only feels it heavier when the younger begins speaking. Those stars in his eyes never leave, his face only defined by joy and relief. His grin is still big on his face, and he’s constantly letting out sighs or tiny whoops.
Sonny watches him with a bittersweet feeling. He doesn’t realize he’s staring until Lewis shakes him out of his thoughts and leads him to the cooldown room.
“We didn’t have this princess treatment back in the day,” Sonny snorts, sitting down in the chair for P2.
Lewis chuckles. “Things change. Congrats, by the way,” he adds, smiling in that genuine way of his. “You should be happy with your result. The team must be over the moon, no?”
Sonny laughs. “Yeah, they’re celebrating, alright. Think this night’s never gonna end…”
“You deserve some celebration after this season.”
“Hear, hear. And same for you, man.”
“I’m probably just going home to Roscoe and relaxing. After a certain age – well, you get it.”
“Don’t I…”
An excited cheer interrupts the two as Joshua walks inside the room. Sonny laughs upon seeing him like this, and Lewis walks up and pats his back.
“Mega job out there today, Joshua,” he says. “You absolutely killed it.”
Joshua can’t contain his grin. “Thank you, Lewis—thank you so much, that means so much coming from you, man.”
Lewis pats his back again, then hugs him, quickly, but tightly.
“Of course. You deserve it, you deserve it all, kid. You’re brilliant.”
“Couldn’t have done it without this guy,” Joshua says, pointing at Sonny. “My secret strategist.”
Sonny laughs, shaking Joshua’s hand.
“Yeah, you’re welcome. Don’t get used to it, though – you’re gonna have to win on your own from now on.”
“Nah, I want you carrying me all the way,” jokes Joshua. “You’ve started something, finish it.”
“Finish it? Season’s over, JP, my job with you is done.”
“But you’ve got many seasons ahead, old man.” Two claps. “Chop-chop.”
They rewatch the key moments of the race, and Sonny is intrigued by the new set-up. He’s never been in a cooldown room before, having been established well after his exit from F1. They’re surprisingly cozy, and useful as well – revisiting the start, some almost-crashes, moments that were close to ending one’s race makes the gears in his head turn. Before he knows it, Sonny’s taking on the strategist role again and thinking what could’ve gone better, if there was something else he could’ve done, or what he’d have acted like in someone else’s place.
When the transmission ends, his daydreaming does, too. He’s pulled back into the real world – the world where these are his last moments in Formula 1. If he spends any more time in it, he’s doomed.
But would that really be so bad?
He tries to shake off his thoughts as, one by one, they’re called up on the podium. Lewis goes first, the announcer’s voice booming across the track. Fans welcome him screaming with excitement and adoration. He’s the best there ever was, and probably ever will be – Sonny really wishes Joshua all the best, but his first pick for future champion is still Lewis. May he get that 8th.
It’s Sonny’s turn, then, and the noise is deafening; the fireworks and lights, blinding. Somehow, the intensity of the moment makes it that much more beautiful. He climbs on the far-right step and can’t help the grin blooming on his face. The crowd looks overjoyed to have him there – and, by God, how he feels the same.
“First place… Joshua Pearce!”
The people go wild. APXGP can’t contain their excitement, shaking and yelling. Behind them, the fans scream and cry, waving around banners with Sonny and Joshua’s names or faces, flags of many countries over the world, and different messages.
And Joshua climbs the podium akin to a warrior.
“And now, the British anthem for our winner.”
It’s only when the first notes play that Sonny realizes Joshua is crying.
Tears roll on his cheeks, and he doesn’t even bother wiping them away. They’re not of disappointment or heartbreak, of course – they’re of real, pure joy. Joshua’s right hand is on his heart, and his bottom lip quivers as he watches the crowd. He sighs, and a soft sob escapes him – and then he’s laughing, relieved and happy that he can finally call himself a Formula 1 winner.
When the anthem finishes, Sonny claps for him the loudest.
The trophies are handed out, the usual handshakes are given, Lewis and Sonny are congratulated for their efforts – and then Joshua raises his prize to the sky with both hands, and Sonny’s eardrums almost explode with the sheer volume of those cheers. It’s as if the whole world is on Joshua’s side, happy for him, and it damn well should be. He deserves nothing less for the work he’s put into getting to this point.
The young man kisses his trophy before gently putting it down, grabbing the bottle of champagne instead. Sonny and Lewis do the same, and, as the celebratory music plays, they spray the newest winner. Joshua relishes in the attention, opening his arms to let them drown him in champagne. He opens his own bottle and sprays the other two, flashing his teammate a million-dollar grin. When he drinks it, Sonny swears he downs about half the bottle.
It feels surreal walking across the paddock again, cheers following them all throughout. Sonny and Joshua are almost hand-in-hand, Joshua already stumbling as if drunk – the only thing he’s wasted on is his own joy, though. He waves at fans on the other side all throughout, he’s stopped by fellow drivers and other teams, and even Toto Wolff expresses his desire to have him on his team.
But Joshua only sees APXGP and its future – he’s a revolutionary to-be. He makes Sonny indescribably and inexplicably proud; and, as he listens to the younger talk about his plans for the team and his hopes for the years to come, Sonny thinks he finally knows where the hole in his heart comes from.
After even more shouting, screaming and cheering in the team’s quarters, it’s silent. Sonny has retreated to his own room, and is gathering his things.
He’s planning to leave quietly. There’s no need to tell anyone he’s leaving – they’ve probably figured. As for Joshua, he’ll understand. He doesn’t need him, anyways. The kid will be just fine on his own.
And then, there’s a knock on his door.
Sonny’s head shoots straight up. “Yeah?”
“Can I come in?”
Joshua’s voice makes him freeze. He bites his lip, but then sighs. As bad of an idea as it is, he really wants to see him one last time.
“Yeah, yeah.”
His entrance is exaggerated, Joshua mimicking a parade as he steps in. He closes the door after him, and Sonny laughs.
“Look at our humble winner – first place already getting to your head?”
“Hey, if it had been you, nobody would hear the end of it.”
Sonny considers. “Probably true.”
“What are you doing here?” Joshua asks. “I was looking for you. We should go have a drink or something.”
“I don’t know.” Sonny shakes his head. “I don’t really feel like going out with the team. And it’s your win, anyways…”
“Well, not with the team,” says Joshua. “Just us. Teammates.”
He smiles at him.
“What do you say?”
Sonny just looks at him.
The boy is great. Sonny sees the potential in him, oozing. He may not have gotten nine consecutive podiums in his rookie year, but he’s far from a loser – Joshua Pearce is clearly destined for greatness. This is just the first night of many in which his name will be announced in the first place, in which he’ll spray champagne on his fellow podium sitters and will see the world bow before him.
His time is just beginning.
But Sonny Hayes’ ends now, for he’s had his time.
So, he shakes his head.
“I’m afraid it’s a no. Sorry, JP.”
“Whaaat?! Come on!”
Sonny sighs. “Look, it’s not…”
But Joshua interrupts him. “Come on, old man. It’s the last race of the season. We gotta celebrate before we go our ways until next year.”
And that’s what hurts the most – the mention of next year. Because—
“I won’t be here next year.”
Joshua’s face falls.
“What? Why?”
“Why would I be?” Sonny shakes his head. “Listen, I’m almost 60 now. I’m keeping this seat from a capable young driver like you, or some other star that hasn’t had enough time in F1 – whoever it is, the point is, I shouldn’t stay.”
Joshua stares at him, arms crossed over his body.
“But… Oh, come on, there’s plenty of teams for ‘other drivers’ to choose from. You—you’re really leaving? As a driver, even as a—would you not stay even as a strategist or something?”
Sonny shakes his head again. “I can’t. I’ve gotta bounce.”
“Do you? Or are you just afraid this is something real, for once?”
It’s Sonny’s turn to stare at him.
“What?”
“Ruben’s told me all about you, man.” Joshua’s tone is almost derogatory. “You bounce from racing series to racing series, never staying put in one place. Maybe you think it makes you free – I think it makes you a coward,” he spits. “Because you can’t commit. You’re scared of failure, so you just run around like a headless chicken and—”
“I think you’re just projecting,” Sonny accuses, pointing a finger at him. “Because you got this big win now, sure, but what’s to stop you and APXGP from another flop? For all you know, next season, your season could be full of engine failures, and it’ll all be just one big DNF.”
“So could your next career, and the one after that,” Joshua scoffs. “You have what every driver wants at your fingertips: a good team and a great car in F1. And you won’t even take that. You think I’m projecting, I think you’re deflecting.”
Sonny looks at him, scoffing as well. His arms crossed over his chest, he can’t even come up with a reply.
Because Joshua is right – he’s deflecting. He knows he wants to stay in Formula 1, and that terrifies him, shakes him to his core. He’s never committed, never stayed, because if he made a mistake, he could just go to the next racing series and start anew. Otherwise, he’d had to confront his feelings – and fuck, how he hates doing that.
So he’s running again. Running from F1, which could be even bigger of a break; running from the team, for fear of starting to care for them; and running from Joshua, knowing just how deeply he’s fallen for him, how much of a mistake it is, and how much he needs to get away from him to fix it.
“Sonny.”
It’s the second time Joshua says his name tonight, and now, it holds a much more different meaning, and weight, than the first.
Sonny raises his head to face him. He wants to hate that this much younger man is taller than him, but it brings him a strange comfort, as if there’s someone he can rely on other than himself for once. (Plus, it’s kinda hot.)
“If…” Joshua carefully weighs his words. He’s barely even looking at him, deep in thought, or maybe too afraid to meet his eye. Maybe both. “If you really want to leave, then… I don’t want to stop you. Be free, man, chase that high, or whatever, but… I think this – the team, the atmosphere, the thrill of it all – all of this, what we have, is real.”
Sonny, for one of the first times in his life, actually listens.
“It hasn’t always been easy, but you’ve brought our team from backmarker status to first-placing. And sure, maybe it’s a one-hit wonder like Alpine or AlphaTauri, maybe we won’t win ever again, but we won’t know if we don’t try. And more than that, we won’t know if you’re not here to help us try.”
Joshua sucks in a deep breath. Sonny watches him intently.
“Sonny,” he says, “we need you.”
And then, quieter, and impossibly tender:
“…I need you.”
Sonny Hayes isn’t entirely used to being idolized. It sounds fake, since he appears so self-centered and egotistical, taking in all the praise and love from fans, bathing in it…
But it’s not. So many years of fame he’s had, and he still sometimes feels like an impostor. So many parties he’s frequented, and he still doesn’t think he belongs. So many people have approached him for an autograph, and he still doesn’t think he deserves their love.
He’s even less used to being needed. Idolized or liked is one thing, and he can maybe do that. Loved is already hard enough to handle; needed? There’s no way he’s needed, much less so by his teammate whom he mutually hated just months ago.
So he just looks at Joshua like an idiot after this confession. He stares at him, the younger’s gaze piercing his very soul, the air thick with feelings unspoken, with so much tension – because all he can do is stare.
It’s probably a good minute before he manages to muster up a reply.
“Nine races ago, you wanted me dead.”
Joshua’s face hardens, cringing with the memory of their first meeting and introduction.
“Well, it’s been nine races,” the younger stubbornly says.
“What changed?”
Joshua sighs and gestures helplessly.
“I don’t know, Sonny… The team? The car, the strategy?”
He looks down, and then barely back up as he adds, softer:
“Us?”
And that is what Sonny is even more taken aback by.
He’s not just needed – he’s wanted. In this man’s eyes, he exists as a completion of him. Another half, the other side of the coin that makes them, them. That makes them this us.
He wasn’t aware there was an ‘us’ to Joshua. He wasn’t aware how much he cared. How unlikely Sonny finds it that it’s the same ‘us’ he sees in them, but still, he must…
“Us?” he tentatively repeats.
Joshua gestures vaguely.
“I don’t… know, man. We have something that works now – we work together. We fit, we—we’re teammates,” Joshua says – and maybe Sonny’s gone senile, but he swears there’s the slightest break in his voice with that last word. “You want to throw that all away for some other random racing series?”
“What do you care?”
He’s pushing him, but not away – just further. He wants to know if he actually cares the way he claims to do.
“What do I—” Joshua scoffs. “I care, Sonny. I just do.”
Sonny pushes more. “About me?”
Joshua doesn’t meet his eye, almost – if Sonny didn’t know any better – as if embarrassed, timid to do so.
“Yeah.”
The reply is quiet, but it’s there.
And it’s followed by, “About you.”
Inches away from his teammate, looking just slightly upwards to meet his eye, all Sonny can ask is:
“Why?”
Joshua’s voice is equally as hoarse as Sonny’s when he replies, barely:
“Because…”
He looks at him, finally.
Then, he looks at his lips.
And then, their eyes meet, and Joshua closes the gap between them.
The kiss is hungry, as if he’s been waiting for this. (Sonny thinks that maybe he has – and he, himself, has waited even more.) Joshua grabs Sonny’s head with both hands, pulling him in, afraid to have to ever let him go; and Sonny snakes a hand to the back of Joshua’s neck, keeping him in place. He bites down on the younger’s lip and hears a soft moan, fueling him more.
Sonny pulls back, then, as if escaping a trance. Thoughts cloud his mind, each one harsher than the last. He pants as he stares at Joshua, and swallows, knowing they shouldn’t be doing this, especially not here, and not now.
But he also knows neither of them care, so he kisses him again, moving his arms to his waist. The gesture earns another delightful noise from Joshua, and Sonny’s going crazy with his pure desire for him.
When they finally pull apart, Joshua stares at him, and Sonny stares back. There’s a mutual disbelief, but also a relief – that the other wants them just as badly as they do.
Panting and sweating, admiration and love clear in his gaze, the rookie has never looked more beautiful.
“Because you’re good, Sonny,” Joshua finally says, voice rough from the kiss. “A good racer, a good person…” He laughs. “And a damn good kisser, fuck.”
Sonny laughs as well, still clinging onto him, not allowing his hands to leave his waist.
“Well,” says the older, “all this flattery can get you a few rounds of drinks…”
Joshua beams.
“Now that’s the spirit, old man.”
“I’m getting back into my rhythm, promise.”
“Hell yeah, you are, if I have to drag you into it screaming and crying.”
“You threaten everyone with a good time like that?”
“Only the people I’m into.”
Sonny snorts. “You’re bad at this.”
Joshua still radiates pure joy. “Terrible, I know. Teach me your ways.”
Sonny laughs as he takes his wallet off the table.
“I’ll teach you a whole lot more than that.” He holds it up. “My treat.”
Joshua grins at him, and that’s all that matters to him right now.
Fuck those other racing series. Fuck everything else. Sonny wants to forget it all, because Joshua’s right – Formula 1 is where he has something good going. He has a good team, with good strategists and a damn good car.
Most importantly, he has Joshua. And he’s sure as hell not letting him go now.