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Chapter Text

Ollie was a Ferrari fan, through and through.

He’d gotten into Formula 1 due to his dad—but that wasn’t a bad decision at all. He’d become so enamoured with the sport that he was still sitting here, in his accommodation at university, unable to hide his slightly concerning man crush on Charles Leclerc.

But everyone had a man crush on Charles Leclerc, right? The question can be rhetorical, if you want to look at it that way.

It was currently the summer break in the middle of the 2025 season, at least for Ollie. He was back at his home in Chelmsford for the holidays, after completing what was a gruelling first year in university. Silently, he wished that somebody could’ve told him about the strain that studying bioscience meant for him.

He’d obviously been keeping up with the season on his own. There was no society to meet other Formula 1 fans where he was situated, but that didn’t mean that he didn't have friends (or, mutuals as you call them) to talk to on Twitter as well as his family.

He didn’t like to consider himself an extravagant fan page, somewhere in the middle of the lines between solely dedicated to the sport or a middle aged man who believed that the sport was getting too woke. He was lucky to have been born into neither of those timelines, but then again—what would little Ollie Bearman know?

Currently, however, Ollie was on his way downstairs to grab himself some breakfast after what he would consider a pretty uneventful week after getting back from his now London situated bearings. There’d been a couple of tears from his mother, and endless questions from his little brother Thomas about whether or not he’d seen anyone famous.

Unfortunately for Ollie, he had not seen anyone famous, even if he was in the same vicinity as George Russell once. God forbid he slept in a little longer that day.

His mother was sitting in the kitchen drinking a cup of tea, even though the time was nearing the afternoon. Ollie’s hair was still stuck up in random places, and the view that his mother was seeing seemed to be one that managed to elicit laughter from her one way or another.

“Were you fighting with someone in your sleep?” she teased, a smile breaking through from where the mug left her lips. Making his way into the kitchen, Ollie opened the cupboard in search of cereal that wasn’t out of date.

“And if I was?” Ollie retorted back, to which his mother just shook her head and took another short sip of her tea. Once Ollie had managed to find some Coco Pops which looked salvageable, he posed his own question. “Do you have any plans for today?”

His mother looked over at him from where the noise of cereal hitting a bowl was apparent. Ollie looked at her from the corner of his eye, noticing that her expression had changed into one of slight smugness.

"I don’t really have any, I might need to go shopping for a couple bits later, if you’d like to come?” she suggested. “I was thinking I’d go once your father gets back from that errand he had to run from his friend down the pub.”

Ollie nodded, the situation not seeming too bad of an idea since he’d have nothing else to do other than try and catch up on his social life. Never with the people he grew up with in secondary school, however—rather the people that he’d made friends with over the past year.

“By a couple bits, do you mean you actually need to go shopping?”

His mother shook her head. “No, dear. Thomas said that he wanted to try out some new drinks that he’d found on TikTok or something, and I was thinking we’d get some picky bits because the weather looks nice next week. You know I can’t be bothered to cook when the sun’s out.”

As Ollie was about to respond, his mother continued, the smug look never leaving her face. “Your father said that he had something to give you too.” She set her mug down on the side of the sink, presumably for Ollie to wash up when he’d finished his cereal.

Finishing up pouring his milk, Ollie sat down to face his mother at the table. “Any inclination of what that might…be?” he questioned, with his mother only acting out a zip on her lips. “Come on Mum, what if it’s something boring like that quiz night that he forced me to go along to?”

“It’s nothing like that,” his mother reassured, before letting out a chuckle of her own. “he said that it was something that only the two of you would understand.”

Now that was something that confused Ollie. He and his dad had a couple similar interests, but it’s not like he and his dad ever had, say, dedicated time to do something together regularly. It just happened whenever the chance came around.

His mother then stood up from the table, ruffling Ollie’s hair. “I’m going to go and grab the washing from upstairs. Don’t think too hard about it, sweet.”

Before Ollie could even have a chance to respond, she was on her way up the stairs, and Ollie still had about 3 mouthfuls of his breakfast that were soaked in milk to ponder why exactly his parents were being so cryptic.

Putting some music on his phone as he’d heard the blaring of some video game (probably Fortnite) coming from his younger brother’s room, he got to washing up while he used the scrubbing brush as his own personal microphone.

It was an acceptable time to do that in the morning, in his humble opinion.

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At around 3pm, the entire Bearman family found themselves in the car on the way to the nearest supermarket. The music was quiet but loud enough for everybody to hear, with the sun peeking through slightly behind the clouds. It wasn’t quintessential British weather, so that meant there was nothing to complain about for this time of year.

His father perked up as they had just set off. “Did your mother tell you about what I’ve got to give you?”

Thomas looked over at him slightly, before quickly directing his gaze out of the window. Okay, now his entire family was being cryptic. “Yes, she told me. Can you give me any hints instead?”

Seemingly pondering for a bit, if the ‘hmm’ from his mouth was any implication, his dad decided on an answer. “No.”

“So you all hate me and you want me to suffer.” Ollie deadpanned. This scored laughter from the entire family, with his mother reaching over to smack him slightly on the leg.

“Don’t be so impatient, Oliver,” but even she couldn’t hide the smile that was on her face. “your father has had to keep this from you for quite a while. If it wasn’t for me, you would’ve already known.”

Now that was a surprise. They were all quite stubborn, so what was making his father be more lenient than before?

The conversation was cut short as after only 5 minutes, they found themselves at the front of a Tesco. After his mother’s constant reminder not to scratch the cars next to them, all Ollie could think about was what his father could’ve been hiding from him.

His birthday had passed already, so it couldn’t be a gift or anything like that. Hopefully it wouldn’t be something related to Ollie’s chosen career, or lack thereof—because he finished with all of that for quite a long time when he left the confines of his campus.

They shared a couple of sports in common—Formula 1, of course—but there were the additions of football and tennis in there somewhere. Could it be that his father was taking him to Wimbledon or something?

Wheeling the trolley around, watching as Thomas ran to grab his drinks and place them at the bottom of the trolley, the thoughts soon cleared from his mind when he came across confectionery that he’d been eyeing up himself.

He’d always make sure to keep himself stocked up for race days, even though recently they’d been taking place at a plausible time for him. It meant that at around 2pm, Ollie was holed up in his accommodation with a bag of whatever crisps looked the best and enough Diet Coke to last him the race period. Life has its simple joys though, right?

The shopping trip didn’t take ages like it usually did whenever his mother stepped foot into a supermarket. Potentially down to his father telling her that she didn’t need any more pots for the house, or random foreign cheeses that she’d end up hating only to throw in the bin the next day.

Even then, his father refused to tell him in the car on the way home. No one else seemed to budge as far as he was concerned, so that left a slightly grumpy Ollie Bearman to head up to his room and wait until dinner was called.

At the end of the day, he shouldn’t be too grumpy because he’s having his dinner cooked for him whereas him in university could do his best to boil the kettle for a Pot Noodle. On the other hand, it was like his entire family were dangling a carrot in front of his face and he was just aimlessly taking the bait.

Every. Single. Time.

Due to this, it wasn’t until around an hour after dinner when the Bearman family were all sitting down together in the living room when Ollie was handed an envelope by his father.

“An envelope?” he thought out loud.

His father just smiled slightly. “I’m not sure what else I was meant to give it to you in. You’ve been complaining about not receiving it all day, so why don’t you just fucking open it already?”

“Okay, okay!” Ollie pleaded, turning over the envelope to peel off where it had been previously stuck down. When he looked inside the envelope, all he could see was something rectangular that had a blank side that was just black material. Before he could lift it up and turn it around, his father made a noise which shot his own head up.

“I just wanted to say,” his father began. “think of these as a birthday present that’s just arriving a little late. Both your mother and I decided that you deserved something that was more for yourself rather than for our benefit too.”

Ollie wasn’t sure what the point of that was completely. Muttering out a slightly puzzled thank you in advance, he lifted the piece of—card?—out of the envelope and flipped it around. Maybe it should’ve registered to him that it was some sort of ticket, but it became clear when the front of it read:

“A meet and greet with the Mercedes drivers?” Ollie exclaimed, slightly exasperated. Sure, it was nothing to get him closer to his favourite Ferrari driver, but the fact that he’d been a fan of George Russell for a while was enough to get his own spirits up.

There was also the rookie driver in their second seat, Andrea Kimi Antonelli. While Ollie couldn’t say he was a fan of the younger driver just yet, there was no denying the fact that he’d shown an impressive performance for his first season.

As if reading his mind, his father spoke up once again. “I know it’s nothing Ferrari, but I thought if you at least had the chance to attend this since we couldn’t get the tickets to Silverstone.” The comment came out almost dejectedly, and Ollie’s face softened immediately.

He jumped off the sofa to give his father a slight hug. “This is more than enough. Besides, if I wanted to go to Silverstone that badly, then I would’ve bought tickets myself.”

“Do you know how expensive they are, Oliver Bearman?” his mother piped up in shock. Ollie only shot her a smirk, shrugging his shoulders and sitting back down. Examining the tickets once more, he found another detail.

Wednesday. The day before media day—which would mean that the Mercedes drivers would have 5 uninterrupted days in comparison to their usual 4. After all, there were no races until Spa 3 weeks after, but Ollie could only sympathise with them at the media appearances that they had to make.

When he’d made it up to his room later that night, he’d remembered that tomorrow was a Monday, which in all technicality gave him around two days to think about the type of questions that he’d get to ask—if he had the chance, that was.

Ollie had always been a silent follower of the sport, never really sharing his thoughts other than the very small Twitter account where he’d make a couple of friends. Even then, the things he shared were mostly banter and not really controversial to the broad community.

He might ask George Russell whether or not he thought he was in contention to place a little higher than Verstappen in the WDC. About his contract with Mercedes itself. The reason he actually ended up getting into motorsports.

The same question could be asked to Kimi, really. Ollie couldn’t think of many things he’d have to say to the Italian—after all, the boy didn’t have much experience and was probably on his way to being media trained. It was like a big anomaly for something that should at least be slightly planned.

It wasn’t something to dwell on, though, as he’d opened Instagram to find 29 unread messages from Dino. If there was anything to say about it, then there’d probably be matching amounts on Twitter and TikTok.

There went his chilled night of doing nothing but watching YouTube and listening to the occasional song.

જ⁀➴

The days passed in a blur, and before Ollie knew it, he was on a train all the way to London. The actual pop up store was located somewhere in Shoreditch, which was an area he knew quite well. His friends always used to take him there for impulsive karaoke trips which he couldn’t exactly say no to.

The July weather was in full swing, with the humidity of the sun beating down on him and the terrible air quality of the city’s air making him feel a little overstimulated. He was only swapping stations to move to the Underground, and he’s not sure why he had to walk to a separate building for it.

When he’d gotten on the Central line towards where he needed to go, he took a moment to look in the tinted windows of the tube to examine his outfit one last time. He’d done nothing special to his appearance, just smacked on a pair of sunglasses and a pair of jeans that had faded in colour due to the amount of times they’d been washed.

What may become glaringly obvious once he arrives at the venue is the fact that he’s wearing a Ferrari shirt. To a meet and greet that was about Mercedes? It was comical, almost.

Ollie had attempted to talk himself out of it before he stepped out of the door yesterday, but he figured that it was better to show that he was a fan of the sport rather than showing up in the most basic outfit ever and potentially give George a reason not to remember him. There were a bunch of Lando Norris fans in Britain as far as he was concerned anyway, so Ollie had a slight inclination that he’d be seeing some of the papaya orange today.

The tube journey was quite long, and surprisingly busy for a Wednesday afternoon. The meet and greet was scheduled to start at 2pm, but Ollie had made sure to get there a little bit earlier as there were relics from Mercedes’ past years in Formula 1 at the pop-up shop, as well as merchandise that may be a little cheaper in comparison to buying it officially.

Then again, all Formula 1 merch was expensive—Ollie doesn’t want to recount the amount of money that he’d spent buying a t-shirt just with Leclerc on the back. How else would people know to approach him about his favourite driver then?

Hearing the intercom mention that they’d arrived at Ollie’s station, Liverpool Street, he mentally braved for the sun that was about to beam down on him and the crowds that could accumulate at the station. It wasn’t a station he’d usually come to, but it was one he knew a lot about. Especially because of the overpriced Buzzballs that he’d once bought from the WHSmith.

He doesn’t really like to remember that night out all too much.

The walk to the pop-up venue wasn’t as long as he intended. After avoiding the people trying to get you to donate to knife crime (serious cause, but Ollie was just broke) and the initial hustle and bustle of the station, it took him around 15 minutes to reach the store.

From the outside, it wasn’t exactly very branded, but you could see the Mercedes logo which had been visible on the glass door, along with a couple of fans already inside the venue.

Ollie checked the time. 1:15pm. That gave him around 45 minutes to loiter around and see if there was anything worth spending his money on that actually took priority, or whether he’d be saving up for as much Ferrari merch as he could afford to spend.

As soon as he walked in, he noticed the store was in two different sections. There was a section for history, a section for clothes. There was also a barrier protruding out the back end of the store, which Ollie could only assume was for the meet and greet.

The store wasn’t as exciting as the British boy would’ve envisioned. He did consider picking up a jacket for when he went back to university, but his mother would’ve definitely complained about him having too many. The history was interesting, but it was nothing that he’d sit and mull over for the rest of his time.

It was at this time when he’d chosen to register the types of people that had walked into the store. There were people of every age, of both genders, some wearing merch and some wearing their normal clothes. Luckily, Ollie had spotted a couple of McLaren hats all walking around together.

He made sure to snap a picture of the interior to send to Dino, as the other boy was gutted when Ollie had told him about it the day before. Although the former was more of a Ferrari fan like himself, he had a soft spot for Alex Albon which he’d told nobody about.

When you met the guy, it seriously wasn’t hard to tell.

The slight buzzes in his pocket a few moments after he’d sent the message were enough to implicate that Dino had seen his messages, however that wasn’t what Ollie could focus on as there was an intercom message directing him on where to head for the ‘main event’, so to say.

The barrier was similar to one that you’d stand in when waiting for a concert, except this one had a point A and a point B. The venue that they were led into looked slightly similar to that of a university lecture hall, just instead a lot smaller and with people grouped together rather than split over a bunch of rows.

Ollie grabbed a seat towards the back, the first one that he’d found amongst all the hustle and bustle of some fans itching to get to the front. Now that he was looking at it, the front row was almost decked out with purely Mercedes merch.

It wasn’t long before the ruckus died down, but then soon started up again when the two drivers had made their way onto the seats at the front. There were some cheers, a lot of clapping (which Ollie found himself a part of), and smiles from the two themselves.

His first impression was that George seemed to enjoy the attention a lot more than Kimi, but maybe that was because of the way he held himself. Kimi looked a lot shorter than George in comparison, and considering Ollie was around the same height, it made him wonder just how tall (or short?) Kimi actually was.

They started taking a couple questions, to which Ollie involuntarily seized up at. Sure, he’d had a mental note of questions that he would’ve liked to have asked, however when there were answers to those questions quicker than lightning, it left Ollie with nothing to do but observe.

“I think that with the help of the team, as long as I perform consistently then I think we’ll be able to achieve some cracking results,” George mused. “but I think the two McLarens are definitely more of a problem than Max himself.”

“So do you think you’ll be able to beat Max?” the same fan who had posed the question asked.

“It’s up in the air.” George replied. “You can’t say what the conditions of the track are going to be like, what upgrades either we or Red Bull will bring to the race. He’s as much of a good racer as I am, but as I said earlier, it’s clear who has the fastest car.”

The fan looked like they wanted to sift for more answers from George, but wouldn’t get to say them due to a question that came from the far right of the room.

“My question is for Kimi.” At the mention of his name, Kimi swivelled around slightly and placed his legs on the bottom half of the stool. “Have you felt more pressure filling in Hamilton’s shoes this season? Do you think you’ll be able to match him?”

The second half of said question seemed to throw Ollie off completely—and Kimi by extension too, apparently, if the slightly concealed look of puzzlement was anything to say. He wasn’t sure why this person was comparing Kimi to a 7 time championship winner, as it seemed like a completely absurd thing to even say.

Kimi held the microphone slightly closer to his mouth, tucking a stray curl behind his ear. “I don’t think I am stepping in for anyone. I was offered the seat, I took it, no? Just because Lewis happened to leave the seat empty for me doesn’t mean that I’m filling in for him.”

It wasn’t a direct answer to the question, which the fan seemed to be unhappy about given the way that their body language was being presented.

Out of nowhere, the Italian continued. “Going back to the more reasonable part of your question, though. It’s obvious that I feel pressure, and I think every one of the rookies would agree with me in the fact that they feel pressure too. At the moment, my seat isn’t stable, so I’m trying to do everything I can to keep it.”

“What if Toto ends up signing a bigger talent than you?”

Kimi scrunched his nose. “Well, I was told I was a rising star, so…I don’t know, George, do you agree? Everyone else?” The room went up in cheers for Kimi, with a couple bits of laughter scattered across the room. The answer was much more witty when his past answer had seemed so polished, and part of it made Ollie chuckle a bit himself.

George played it off with Kimi, saying that he’d need to drive in a Williams before he realised that talent could be measured on a spectrum. That made everyone laugh in the room, and there were a couple more questions proceeding that before the host of the event had come forward to the front of the room.

“We’ll be moving on to where some of you might be able to get some of your memorabilia signed! If you’d like to follow my colleague at the back, we’ll be out in just a second.” she explained, which led to a commotion that filled the room. Nonetheless, people were filing out into an area outside where it was long enough for everyone to be within distance of the drivers.

The London sun was still beating down on them, Ollie having to fan himself with his shirt so that the sweat on his forehead didn’t trickle down to his sideburns, in turn making his hair look greasy. That’s the last thing he’d want anyone to think, that he didn’t shower.

It was around five minutes before there was any sign of the drivers. Ollie was near the end towards the front of the store, along with some other people that he’d spotted in Ferrari merchandise. He was also quick to notice that those who were wearing McLaren merchandise were closer to the front of the pack.

George seemed to run down the queue a lot quicker, signing things and exchanging smiles like he was trained in it (well, he probably was). Kimi, on the other hand, seemed to take a lot more time talking to the different people that showed interest in him, which put him a few paces behind the British driver.

Said driver got to him eventually, giving him a look that could only be described as ‘what the fuck are you wearing’, which soon materialised through his voice. “You’re the first person I’ve seen wearing Ferrari today.” George noted, possibly ignoring the fact that there were a bunch more just a tiny bit further down.

Hands slightly clammy, Ollie just shrugged. “I have to prove I’m a fan somehow, right? You won’t send Charles my best wishes?” He talked as if the Monégasque driver was his best friend, which he internally cringed at. George only chuckled though, signing the hat (Ferrari, again) that Ollie had just in front of him.

“I’ll send him my best wishes from pole, because Ferrari clearly seem to be sabotaging him. Then again, I can’t say too much about…you know?” he trailed off, probably implying something about his own team. Ollie just put a finger over his lips as an act of secrecy, and George smiled at him before moving onto the fans that were just next to him.

Part of him couldn’t believe he’d just had a conversation with George Russell, as there was a little bit of time to rest as the rookie driver was still making his way down. Perhaps the reward of getting to talk to one in person was better than attending a race, point blank.

By the time Kimi got to him, his expression seemed to do something similar to what Russell had done just mere minutes ago. “Ferrari?” he questioned. “I know I’m Italian, but I think you’ve got the wrong idea.”

“Big fan of Charles Leclerc, unfortunately. Although sometimes, I wish I wasn’t.” Ollie deadpanned. Kimi had a smug smile on his face, signing Ollie’s hat next to where George had. He seemed to be taking his time doing it, too.

“Hey,” the younger’s voice called from where he was signing the hat. The height difference between the two was glaringly obvious now, with Kimi’s eyes being level with Ollie’s lips, or thereabout. “if Ferrari aren’t doing too well for you, why not become my fan?”

It was probably a pretty normal question to anyone that showed up opposing the team. However, Kimi had said it like it was a challenge, looking up at Ollie and tucking another curl behind his ear like it was a habit of his. The sun seemed to get even warmer, as he realised that Kimi still hadn’t let go of the hat.

Laughing nervously, Ollie could only muster out the most joking response he could. “How am I going to do that if I’ve not got a way into Silverstone, huh?”

A moment passed, but it was like Kimi had suddenly figured out what gravity was just as Isaac Newton did. Writing a little more on the hat, so that Kimi’s scrawl was practically all over the red of his favourite team, the boy inched a little closer.

“Stay around here for 10 minutes when I’m done, yeah? Trust me.” Kimi demanded, although with a much softer tone than you could imagine. In which there could’ve been repercussions for staying in an alley which was right next to a Formula 1 team’s building, Ollie could only find himself nodding at the request from the Italian driver.

No more words came out, as Ollie was pretty sure that he was dreaming, before Kimi sent him a small smile of acknowledgement before moving onto the fans next to him just as his teammate did.

He took the time briefly to look at what was scribbled on his hat. It was unintelligible in parts, clear that the marker Kimi was using was getting to the end of its days. The message he’d written was as clear as day, even in the bunched up parts.

Forza Kimi from now on:)

Just above it, Kimi’s signature.

What the fuck?

જ⁀➴

Waiting outside a pop-up store that was of a team that you didn’t even like was particularly daunting, especially when there were others loitering outside the front of the store even 5 minutes after. Is this why he said 10 minutes? Ollie briefly thought, hearing the sound of multiple footsteps to his right. Probably a group of fans.

Checking his phone for what seemed like the first time in an eternity, he saw Dino’s message from earlier and his request to personally steal Ollie’s Ferrari hat when he got back. He made a mental note to reply to him later.

There was also a message from his mother asking when he’d be back, and he’d rapidly typed out ‘train is slightly delayed lol. i’ll be home before 7!’

As far as scenery went, there wasn’t really much to take in. The sun, although not as lethal as before, was omnipresent wherever he went. There were people talking on the street passing by, some with headphones in and others with smiles on their faces or matcha in their hands.

He heard a door slam from the other side of the alley that they were situated in. Ollie was standing just outside the barrier he had once been standing in, but at the other end of the street—it was when he turned his head that he spotted the same driver that had requested him to stay behind.

He was unsure whether to head towards Kimi or if it was more sensible to stay rooted to his spot, but the slight anxiety surrounding the situation had him frozen like a statue. Luckily, this didn’t matter as Kimi just strolled on over to him anyway, before beckoning him a little closer.

“There’s way too many people out there.” Kimi observed. “Anyways, I’m sorry for not explaining why I asked you to stay—I would get way too many questions from the other fans.” He looked a little sheepish, as if he’d just done something he was told not to.

The British boy wanted to reassure the other as best as he could, but what came out of his mouth was only the unfiltered truth. “Won’t people still speculate because of what you said?” It was a genuine question, and Kimi seemed to nod along.

“I’m kinda just praying that some of them are chronically offline, mate. As long as it doesn’t make headlines, I don’t think anyone would care for what I have to say. Or well, do.”

This confused Ollie slightly. “What are you going to do?”

Kimi reached into the pocket of his jeans all of a sudden, still wearing the Mercedes polo that he had worn during the meet and greet earlier. Before he knew it, Ollie was presented with the second round of tickets that he’d received in two days.

“They’re for—” Kimi began, but Ollie had already figured it out.

“You got me tickets to Silverstone?” the older boy blurted out. Seriously, somebody needed to pinch him immediately. There’s no way a Formula 1 driver was giving him tickets for free. He was waiting for Thomas to throw the water over his face at this point.

Kimi scratched the back of his neck, in what seemed like a slight disarray. “I guess I can explain?” his voice went slightly pitchy at the end. “I’m usually very shy, but when you said you didn’t have any tickets I just thought…it’d be nice if you came and had someone to think about other than Leclerc.”

The Italian boy’s reasoning seemed…plausible, at least. There was still one question plaguing the other’s mind though. “Why me?”

“Nobody else said they didn’t have tickets, so why do I have a reason to give it to them?” Kimi bit back playfully. “You look the same age as me too…perhaps a little bit older, no? I thought you’d appreciate them better than anyone else, as they all looked like they already had tickets.”

Ollie wasn’t sure whether to take it as a compliment that he was a dedicated fan, or an insult that he looked like he couldn’t afford Silverstone tickets (but he was sure Kimi didn’t mean it like that, right?). Either way, he was still extremely grateful.

“There’s two as well, so give one to a friend or something. Or a family member. It’s in the grandstands right by the pit lane.” Kimi added, as if he’d forgotten it completely. Grandstand?

Ollie’s face morphed into one of slight shock. “You’d do this all for…a Ferrari fan? Who’s never shown any interest in you?” To this, Kimi got on his tiptoes and reached for the hat on Ollie’s head.

It might have been a subconscious thought, but he could see the way that Kimi had caught a tan, whether it be from the London sun or somewhere abroad. There was a slight blemish near the side of his lips, which looked like they’d been glossed with something akin to lip balm—

“You see what I wrote here?” Kimi’s voice brought him back into the room, pointing to where he’d written ‘Forza Kimi’. “I’m still Italian, so it counts, right? You don’t have to be a Mercedes fan, you can just root for me. I’m practically half Ferrari anyway.”

It was a slight ramble, but Ollie can’t say it went in one ear and out the other when Kimi reached back up. What he didn’t expect was for Kimi to smooth down his hair from where the hat had made it stick up in places Ollie would never dream of.

The hat was firmly placed on his head seconds later, and Ollie couldn’t help but feel like he’d been sunburnt with the way his cheeks flared up at that moment. He found himself nodding uncharacteristically, as if the younger boy had put him into a trance.

“I hope to see you on the weekend! Seriously, don’t be a stranger, mate. I’ll be waiting for you.” Kimi conveyed, giving the taller boy a salute before he walked briskly back to where he came from—probably having to go back to accommodation of his own.

If anyone saw Ollie touching his cheek in shock from the burning feeling he’d received, frozen still for around 5 minutes, then nobody commented on it. In retrospect, he probably should’ve made it out of there before something happened to him.

જ⁀➴

He’d barrelled through the front door just past 8, slightly off from what he’d told his mother. He didn’t bring a bag with him, so he’d just had to stuff the tickets in his pocket, praying that they wouldn’t fold and that nobody would steal them.

On his particularly short train ride back, the message flow between himself and Dino whenever the train internet had been working was a lot more frequent than usual. Ollie had explained his entire day, which sent the other boy into a frenzy.

A photo of the Silverstone tickets was sent, and then a photo of Dino’s shocked face came after Ollie had asked him if he wanted to come. Of course the answer was yes, as both boys had never been to a Formula 1 race in person before.

Shouting hello to anyone who could hear, although Ollie soon realised that nobody was in immediate distance of the front door. He took this as liberty to be able to go up to his bedroom and finally put the tickets in a safer place—rather than the confines of his jeans.

It was then when he’d realised there was another text from Dino that he’d not responded to because he was walking home from the station, attempting to conserve his battery for the music on his way home.

dino 🦕 [21:25]

YO
did u realise there was something on the back?
like scribbled really badly
in the corner of one
please tell me im right.

This perked Ollie’s interest up—immediately retrieving the tickets from where he’d placed them in the top drawer of his nightstand.

To Dino’s delight, it was more than true. There was indeed something scribbled on the back of the ticket. It was very messy, but after further inspection (with his blue light glasses), Ollie could only believe that it was a phone number.

A foreign one at that, however, because the country code definitely didn’t match that of the UKs. Maybe this was the person that had given Kimi the tickets? There was no message above it implying who it was.

Opening WhatsApp to input the number, it seemed awfully cryptic due to the fact that there was no profile picture or status for this person. Oh well, Ollie thought, what’s the harm in trying?

hi
who’s this?
i found it on the back of some silverstone tickets i was given today

The response didn’t come immediately, which was perhaps to be expected, but it didn’t help with Ollie’s mood. God forbid a man lives off curiosity.

Turning his phone on Do Not Disturb, he decided to walk around the house to try and find some of his family members. When he was unsuccessful once again, as he didn’t want to barge into either of their bedrooms, he decided to waddle back to his own room and turn on what he’d been watching on Netflix.

Coincidentally, it was Drive to Survive.

If he was a little more attentive and paid attention to his phone, or perhaps even turned it off the mode it was on, he might’ve realised the message that came through.

I think I’ve got the right number :)
Do you know Kimi Antonelli? Cool dude. I know him a little too well
[Photo of Kimi attached. He’s propped up against a headboard, a white t-shirt on, sticking his tongue out while he makes a peace sign with his free hand.]

Chapter Text

Kimi wouldn’t say that his journey to getting into Formula 1 was easy, but then people would easily contradict that with the fact that he skipped straight over Formula 3.

If he’s being completely honest, it meant the pressure put on top of him was even worse. Being a so-called ‘rising star’, the third youngest driver to ever start a race and bagging the second seat at Mercedes? It was a lot.

He always called it the second seat because he never liked to look at it as the seat that he took from Lewis. The now Ferrari driver had been nothing but kind to him, with each of them sharing their frustrations about the team from time to time, old and new.

So, like anyone, the transition was far from seamless. 11 races into the season, he thinks he’s close to completing it all. A DNF, a podium and a media day which put him on an intensive media training course after that (which will work when Kimi wants it to).

To top it all off, he had George Russell as his teammate, who was always someone that wasn’t afraid to say it straight. In turn, that might be another reason as to why Kimi’s media training just does not work.

Speaking of media day, that was yesterday. Kimi checked the time—8:07am—and was quickly reminded that he had to be ready for free practices which were happening today.

The Italian driver’s mind was usually slow to wake up in the morning, but the notification that loomed just underneath the time distracted his brain. Perhaps booting it up in the process instead.

Ollie.

Now, Kimi definitely wasn’t one for spontaneity, especially when you were in a sport that was so overlooked and overanalysed by both journalists and fans alike.

However, when the red had stood out to him in a sea of black, deep brown eyes mirroring his own lighter hazel ones, it was impossible to say that it wasn’t love at first sight.

So Kimi had tried to throw it off by starting a regular conversation. Which turned into admittance, directly fucking him up so much that he pleaded the staff at the event for 2 spare tickets. (“Do you think you can do something for me? My dad told me that family are coming to the race—merda—and he’ll kill me…")

What they don’t know won’t kill them.

It wasn’t something he liked to talk about in any fact. Being gay within Formula 1 was a taboo subject in itself, as there were only a handful of people in the hundreds of drivers that had taken part who had come out—and it wasn’t anything significant either. Nobody in the modern era, at least.

Kimi had known that he’d liked boys from a young age, but he’d never shared it with anyone. When he’d try to picture himself with a girl, he only saw himself being an emotional anchor within the relationship and there would be nothing to balance on.

His first crush was a boy with shaggy blonde hair during his high school years. In the summer, they always found themselves riding bikes on the beaches or spending their money at the local arcade. That fizzled out quickly when Kimi had to direct more of his focus to his career, but it was his first love that would stick with him for many years.

What he would say is that he’d found himself out of touch with romance over the years. So he’s not sure why it’s rebounding now.

Maybe it was the way there were slight freckles which beamed even brighter in the sun. Maybe it was the way that the taller boy held onto every word he said, Kimi half-expecting to find nobody out there when he grabbed the tickets.

Kimi had internally cursed himself for acting so shy and giving so many excuses as to why he’d given Ollie the tickets, when the only acceptable reason that his mind was able to produce was because he’d seen a pretty boy in the crowd. Sue him.

He wasn’t even sure if he’d been able to charm the British boy enough to make an impression, but that’s when he received the message.

Despite his attempts to desperately find a marker pen, he’d had to use a ballpoint pen to scribble his phone number on the corner of one of the tickets. It was his only way of being discreet, even though that cover would soon be washed when Ollie had asked who it was.

Kimi at least thought he would’ve used context clues, but maybe he liked his men a little dumb and illiterate. For all he knew, Ollie might not even be into men himself.

At least Kimi could reason with the fact that he hadn’t scared the other away, if the way they were texting during media day were anything to say.

Of course, Kimi was pre-occupied, but after he’d woken up to a flurry of texts from said boy that morning, he’d had to employ himself as Ollie Bearman’s personal reassurance mentor. At that time, he didn’t even know the boy’s name.

yo
what the fuck
there’s no way you’re kimi???

Was I not convincing enough for you on Wednesday?
Hahahah

you’re that serious about me becoming ur fan?

Of course
I don’t know anything about you yet :(

Surprisingly, from then on, conversation flowed freely.

He learned about Ollie—where he grew up, his sibling, what he was studying at university, how long he’d been a fan of F1 for—with him also mentioning on the offhand that he would let Charles Leclerc step on him and he’d say thank you.

Oh, how a boy could dream.

In turn, Kimi told the other boy a lot about himself. Not enough to reveal his entire life story, but enough to have the other boy understand him on a deeper level. After all, it wasn’t everyday that a Formula 1 driver that you apparently aren’t that much of a fan of, basically gives you his phone number.

So he could totally understand Ollie when he was a bit weary. After all, the tickets that Kimi had managed to snag were only for the race day itself, not the free practice days or qualifying.

Maybe that was better for Kimi since the other boy could still have some sense of normality, and it also gave him time to talk to Ollie more as a result. Or, so he hopes.

Right now, Kimi’s main priority was to stop daydreaming about a man he’d met 2 days ago and to instead drive a car with many problems into Q3. There’s no doubt that Sergi would be all over him if he didn’t perform like he should, and it was already a challenge to follow the strict diet that they’d put in place.

જ⁀➴

Friday

Are you watching free practice today?

you sound particularly eager
i am, though

God forbid
I just wanted to make sure my new fan was watching

who said i was watching for you?

You will in no time, Ollie
10:07AM

Man
This car is not fun to drive sometimes

haven’t you just finished fp2?

Yeah?

and your first instinct was to message me?

Don’t get ahead of yourself
Who else can I complain to about a shitty Mercedes, mate

i guess you’re right
you still type like a grandpa btw

I don’t look it
Unless you’re into that?

KIMI
4:05PM

Come Saturday, Kimi had qualified P10. It wasn’t the best, but it certainly wasn’t the worst—so he’d take what he could get, in all seriousness.

It was almost shameless how his mind drifted to the boy he’d been texting, apparently. He’d wished him luck before qualifying, before Kimi could even message, and that had done bad things to his heart.

Walking back to the Mercedes hospitality after he’d been caught by an interview briefly on his way out, seemingly pleased with his performance, he caught his teammate by one of the few coffee machines that they had within the building.

Kimi went up to him and tapped him on the back. “P3, eh? At your home race?” The taller man turned around and smiled at him, returning the gesture.

“It’s nice to see both of our cars back in Q3 anyways. How did the car feel?” George asked.

Kimi made a teetering gesture with his hand. “Eh, mate…it could be better, you know. I’m in an okay starting position though so I’m not really bothered. Besides, you’re probably feeling the pressure more.”

George laughed, putting a lid on the coffee cup that he’d found just by the side. “I mean, sure. It’s not something I’m going to kill myself over though.” It was a complete deadpan, but it had Kimi snickering just a little.

“Besides,” George continued. “you’re definitely not feeling the pressure. Nine times out of ten when I’ve looked at you, you’re always smiling on your phone about something. Can I pry?” He did the act of wiggling his eyebrows, albeit a little feeble, but Kimi found himself heating up nonetheless.

It was like he’d just been caught for something that he’d very much done, but realistically, what would George be able to do about it? The younger regarded him as someone close to a brother figure, but he wasn’t ready to put all his eggs in one basket.

“Just someone.” Kimi responded vaguely. When George had a look on his face that meant ‘any more?’ and Kimi was silent, he just nodded and patted Kimi on the shoulder once again.

Walking away, the British driver yelled ‘You’ll tell me eventually!’, to which Kimi could only reply with ‘Sure, mate!’.

Conversations aside, he didn’t know if it was realistic of him to expect a message from the person that had kept him glued to his phone this entire time. Of course, it would practically make Kimi’s day, but he didn’t want to rush into things too fast. Or whatever they say.

That thought had to be put to the side when he was brought for a debrief before he could retire back to his driver's room—which Kimi might inadvertently blame George for as he kept him talking. When in reality, it was nothing like that.

જ⁀➴

It turned out that Ollie would eventually message him, just in the form of a voice message rather than a text message. It was a minute long, which made Kimi slightly nervous—as what would he have to say for a minute?

Once he was in the comfort of his own hotel room, he placed his headphones on and played the voice message.

“Kimi! Hi. I’m sorry if you can’t hear me. It’s slightly windy out, my family brought me on some spontaneous mini golf trip just now. I’m…not faring the best. I saw your qualifying placement! I knew you’d do it, trust me— HUH?…OKAY HOLD ON, I’M JUST CHECKING SOMETHING IMPORTANT!— Sorry. That was my mother. I think they’d call me insane if I told them I was sending a voice note to a Formula 1 driver. I hope you’re not busy later though. I have nothing to do. Not that I expect you to be at my beck and call—oh god no—yeah. It’s nice talking to you. I’ve been stuck inside quite a lot recent— OKAY! I’M COMING! I’ve seriously gotta dash. Speak soon!”

One thing that Kimi noticed was the amount of silence between some of the sentences that Ollie spoke, but the message made him feel warm inside. Part of him was too curious as to what Ollie was going to say after he’d said he was proud of Kimi.

He didn’t know if it was a little bit insane to be having butterflies over somebody’s voice that you’d met once, but Kimi hadn’t exactly found himself falling for someone this hard before.

Kimi almost thought of sending his own voice message back, but he honestly…couldn’t conjure up any words right now. His brain was moving at a slower pace than usual, the confirmation buzzing in his brain that Ollie treasured what they had.

It was just—how was he actually meant to advance from there?

The text message he wrote out in response was everything short of extravagant. At least he thought, because the ‘Text me later?’ had been re-worded into a ‘Call me later?’, and now Kimi had no way of deleting it.

Perhaps he was being ambitious, because Ollie had his own family and they might not want him being too loud, in comparison to Kimi who was staying in a bed which definitely wasn’t his.

Maybe I should order room service, Kimi thought, but then he remembered the times when he was younger when his older friends would order McDonalds straight to hotel rooms to eat at 11pm.

Setting his phone down on the table that was next to his bed, he scanned the hotel menu slightly before realising that there was absolutely nothing that was calling his name. With his slight knowledge of British cuisine, he didn’t quite trust them with a carbonara.

He didn’t really feel like turning the television on, he didn’t really feel like doing anything, to be honest. Sometimes, race weekends were the most tiring things in existence, and the best thing that you could do was just sleep. Then again, it was only 8pm.

Picking up his phone again to mindlessly scroll through whatever social media app seemed the best, it was 10 minutes before he received a notification from the top of his screen.

A call notification from Ollie.

Okay, now this was a little crazy, because he did not expect the aforementioned boy to actually pull through and do it. For what Kimi thought, the taller boy was the shyer one—but his old traits were coming back to haunt him as he just let the phone ring. Again. Another one went past.

Until the call notification disappeared from his screen, followed up by a notification which said ‘Missed call from Ollie’.

Well, that was a great start.

Two notifications flooded in from Ollie straight after—’u there?’ ‘is it too early to be calling?’

Kimi followed up by calling Ollie back instead. It was better to be direct, right?

Putting the phone on speaker in anticipation, the line rang twice before he heard a distinct voice answer through the speakers of his phone. “Hello?”

“Hi,” It was like treading water all of a sudden. “sorry I didn’t pick up. I was in the bathroom.” A blatant lie, but he didn’t exactly want to say the reason was down to his homosexuality.

Ollie brushed it off. “It’s fine, seriously. I’m still in slight belief that I have your phone number in the first place, so it’s not to say I wasn’t expecting it.”

Ouch. “Mate, I was the one who initiated it, don’t overthink.” Kimi reassured, and Ollie hummed in resignation. The line rang silent for a few seconds, before Ollie continued the conversation again.

“How do you feel about tomorrow?” It was a question that George could’ve asked him, but hearing it from Ollie may have made his mind ramble on a little more than expected.

“You know, not that bad. I just have to hope that I can weather…whatever conditions happen. At least that’s what George tells me.” Kimi recounts. “Plus, you’ll be there, so isn’t that just an added bonus?”

Ollie made another humming sound over the line. “I think it benefits us in both ways. I’m already a big Ferrari fan though, so you’ll have to pull off a pretty stellar drive if you want me to pay attention to you.” It sounded slightly teasing, and Kimi wasn’t sure if he knew how to deal with the repercussions.

“So you’re going to add more pressure to a rookie Mercedes driver?” he deflected. Ollie could only laugh. “Hey, at least I gave you a reason to get out of the house instead of watching the race from your room.”

Ollie’s response came quickly after. “Sure, but it rains in the UK. You think I want to stand in that?”

“You have a grandstand!” Kimi refuted. “It really isn’t the worst thing in the world. You might even be able to spot your lovely Charles Leclerc in the pit lane.”

“Don’t get my hopes up, Kimi.” Ollie exclaimed. “Won’t you be looking for me, anyway?” Now, it would’ve been a perfectly fine response if Ollie’s tone didn’t lilt towards the more saddened side, like he was a kicked puppy.

The Italian had no clue why he was trying to kill him, and they were barely even 5 minutes into the call. “If I can see through the rain, do you want me to look for you?” Do you want me? The question in Kimi’s mind raced, but he would never say it out loud.

“I don’t think that’s what you should be worrying about,” Ollie commented. “you seem to have a habit of brushing the curls out of your face, so they might get plastered to your head in the rain.”

Kimi froze. “Huh?”

“You don’t notice?” The British boy’s tone was one of bewilderment, as if it was the most obvious thing. “You had to tuck your curls behind your ears like 5 or so times when I saw you first. God forbid what happens if you don’t have a helmet in the rain—”

The younger one didn't really hear anything after that, unfortunately. His brain was already on the train of overthinking, about why Ollie had even been looking at the way Kimi tended to brush hair behind his ears.

No one had ever commented on it apart from his mother—who always used to be the one to fuss over his hair—at the end of the day, you were in a helmet for the entire race, so it’s not like appearance mattered too much.

But Ollie had noticed it. From wherever he sat in that stuffy room where people were interviewing him similar to journalists. If only Kimi had caught him in the crowd, he could only begin to imagine.

Would Ollie have matched his gaze? Give him a small smile, perhaps? Looked away at the embarrassment of watching him that intensely? Who was to say he was looking at him intensely, though? Would he have been looking over at George and only happened to see Ki—

“Kimi, mate? Did you hear what I said?” Ollie’s voice grounded him. Wasn’t that just great. Daydreaming on his first call with this guy.

“Repeat it for me?” he replied, trying to sound as casual as possible.

Ollie sighed. “I said, bring an umbrella. If I don’t see you with one tomorrow, I’ll throw hands.” It seemed slightly protective, and something fizzed in the pit of Kimi’s stomach again.

“Mercedes have branded ones, they’ll probably give me one. Go follow my fans on Twitter or something, that’s your quickest way of finding out.”

“You have Twitter?” Well. Kimi forgot he didn’t have a public Twitter. Then again, how would Ollie know?

“Not publicly,” Kimi said, reiterating his thoughts. “The PR team would kill me if they found out, because I had eyes and ears over my Instagram when I was racing with Prema last year.”

Ollie laughed, full bellied. “Surely you weren’t that bad? I don’t follow Formula 2 that much, admittedly—”

Kimi cut him off slightly. “I mean, I was 17 at the time! At least for most of the season! What can you expect?” Ollie chuckled again, which made Kimi chuckle as well. If their ways of texting were smooth, then Kimi should’ve imagined that he was easy to talk to over the phone too.

Maybe that was just his subconscious talking, though.

The call went on for a little while longer after that. Ollie recounted his day—from waking up surprisingly late to dragging himself to the nearest corner shop to buy a packet of noodles for lunch because he was really craving it, video calling his friend Dino (who was also apparently coming to the race tomorrow).

“Hey! Speaking of, we should FaceTime soon. Or something.” Ollie mentioned, as if the thought had just appeared in his brain. He was like a golden labrador at times, happy but always unfiltered.

Kimi groaned. “Why didn’t you say today? I’ve just been staring up at the ceiling of my hotel room for too long, no?”

“I called you as soon as I got out of the shower,” Ollie explained. “I don’t think that’s the best first impression to make if we’re video calling, Kimi.” He laughed, played it off like it was something normal.

The Italian driver had wondered when the lines had blurred—if there were even any lines at all, considering he didn’t even know if Ollie liked boys. Were these just things he said casually to someone? As if he was going to call Kimi the second he was available?

Don’t even get him started on the image of Ollie straight out of the shower.

“Sure,” Kimi matched Ollie’s laugh, although there was a nervous tinge to it. “I would be the type of person to do something dumb and do exactly that, unfortunately.”

It was the truth, but Kimi didn’t expect the normalcy that they’d once had on the call to return. At least not to him, if the way his heart had been racing every time Ollie would make some sort of innuendo had been anything to show. Or feel, perhaps.

After that, however, Kimi went on his own spiel about how he was looking forward to the second of the two Italian races that they had on the calendar, how he missed his family back in Bologna at times, probably even teaching Ollie a few Italian swear words in the remainder of the time that they could find anything to talk about.

He’d found out that Ollie had bought the F1 25 game, which Kimi also owned, so they would find some way to play that together when Kimi wasn’t absolutely swarmed with races—which may be particularly soon, to his liking.

Ollie had also filled the silence with anecdotes from his first year of university. There was a time when Ollie was the only sober one who had to keep watching over his 7 drunk flatmates, but he followed that straight up with the fact that he did a very bad drunk rendition of Russian Roulette by Rihanna.

“Seriously, I didn’t know any of the lyrics apart from the chorus! My girlfriend at the time put me up to it, and it was just a mess. I only knew because of the shared Spotify playlist we had.”

Kimi swallowed. “At the time?” The question came out in a more playful manner that Kimi had been able to mask, but Ollie’s demeanour slightly switched in his response.

“It was a messy breakup. She cheated on me like—twice—and then I walked in on her with the two men at the same time. I won’t say any more, but it’s sorta… disinterested me in dating? At least for the while.”

The sudden remark was surprisingly solemn, considering the conversations that they’d been having previously. Kimi seemed to be in two minds about it.

Of course, the overbearing confirmation that Ollie was well and truly straight was practically blinding him, but it didn’t mean that he didn’t feel something for the boy. He wouldn’t even wish for his worst enemy to get cheated on.

The older one seemed to catch onto the silence that had been stretched out as a result of Kimi’s thoughts once again, and continued the conversation as if nothing had happened. “Seriously, though. It doesn’t bother me as much as it did when it happened.”

“How long ago was it?” Kimi pressed, curiosity getting the better of him.

“End of April. It was just after I’d gotten back from the break we have over Easter, and I think she was under the impression that I wasn’t going to be coming back as early as I was, considering I had a spare key to her flat.” Ollie sighed once again.

Kimi started talking. “Hey, mate, you’re better than her. No matter how pretty she might’ve been,” that sickened him to say, “people who cheat on you don’t deserve anything. She didn’t realise how much you were worth.”

If Kimi could’ve used more sophisticated language in English, then maybe it would’ve made Ollie seem that little bit better—but he’d done his best.

Said boy let out a breath. “Thanks, Kim. I think I knew before, but…it just sorta took it out of me. You get me?” He nodded to himself, but failed to provide Ollie with a response, because he went back on himself. “Wait. Do you mind if I call you Kim?" Like a nickname?”

No one had ever called him that before, but the fact that Ollie had latched on to a nickname this quickly was giving Kimi implications which may have been far from the truth. “Sure. You can’t just be bothered to say the extra ‘i’ sound at the end?” Kimi snapped, although his tone held no malice.

Ollie just giggled, “Would you prefer to be called by your initials? AKA? Also known as?”

It was Kimi’s turn to let out a breath this time. “All the nicknames I’ve been given are mostly Italian, so it’s just a change, really. Please don’t call me that though.” he cried. “I need a nickname for you anyway.”

“Most people just call me Ol—I mean, Ollie is technically a nickname in itself. I hate the name Oliver though. Sounds too posh.” the older boy explained.

“Posh?”

“Fancy, basically. Like all the F1 drivers.”

Kimi gasped in fake shock. “Hey, I don’t live in Monaco just yet!”

“Sure.” Ollie began. “Have you decided on a nickname yet?”

He thought about it for a second. “What are your initials? Since you know mine, and you think they’re so embarrassing,” dragging out the o sound on so.

“Oliver Bearman. You don’t have the privilege of knowing my middle name yet, Antonelli.” Kimi could only chuckle. At least it was a start.

Luckily, his translating mind was working overtime, so his brain supplied a nickname quite quickly.

“Orsetto.”

“Pardon?” came Ollie’s voice.

Okay, he didn’t have to tell Ollie that the translation was something similar to teddy bear, but what he didn’t know—once again—wouldn’t hurt him.

Kimi spoke again. “Bear in Italian. I wouldn’t want to call you Bearman literally. It’s different, no?” He wasn’t sure if he heard a spluttering noise from the other side of the line, but he did hope Ollie was okay. It faded away quite quickly.

“Yeah. Yes. I like it. A lot, actually.” His sentence came out slightly broken—maybe he was tired. It satisfied Kimi however, the fact that he’d come up with a nickname that might have a double meaning to him.

His theory was also proven true when Ollie yawned. Checking the time—it was 10pm. They’d been talking to each other for 2 hours now.

“I think I’m gonna get myself ready for bed.” Ollie uttered. “Need to be ready for the drive tomorrow, dare I say.”

Kimi hummed in response, just as the other had done multiple times. “Okay, orsetto. Sleep well, I’ll make sure to put on glasses tomorrow if I need to see you!”

“Don’t glasses make those with perfect vision see worse?”

“I’ll defy it! I promise!” Kimi exclaimed confidently.

They said their goodbyes then, there was nothing special about them. When Ollie had been the one to press the button to hang up, Kimi laid back, staring at his home screen which displayed the time.

The lights in the hotel room were still on, his brain was running on gas, and he’d become even more infatuated with a British man that he’d met 3 days ago.

A straight one, at that. Kimi buried his face in his pillow.

જ⁀➴

Ollie had made the impulsive decision last night to book train tickets and a shuttle bus instead of driving—because his father had told him traffic would be manic. Which probably checks out, as they saw the queues on their way in. They had woken up at 6am to catch their train at 7 so they could be there within ample time.

The queues were long, but it didn’t faze either Ollie or Dino because they had their seats practically reserved for them. Kimi had told him in a message this morning that they’d have a view of most things going on in the paddock if they ‘looked well enough’.

Whatever that was supposed to mean.

Ollie subsequently put Kimi to the back of his mind for a short while, as he and Dino entered the track at around 12 noon. The weather was relentless, both of the boys in coats, bringing umbrellas just to be extra protected. Luckily, they’d chosen suitable footwear for the event.

Not like they were rain boots, but they were sturdy enough to outlast the British weather on this particular day.

“Bro, I still can’t believe that you got tickets from Kimi Antonelli. Do you think there’s a chance I could meet him too?” Dino pleaded eagerly.

“You should’ve come with me to the meet and greet.” Ollie offered. “Either way, keep your voice down—you never know who or what could be lurking.”

Kimi had practically entrusted Ollie with a lot of things that wouldn’t usually be allowed, so Dino seemed to take that as his first and only verbal warning.

As the race didn’t start for another two hours, they decided to take a walk round the track just to familiarise themselves as to what they’d usually see on their television screens. Ollie could already see that there were thousands of general admission ticket holders who already had seats up in spots, and he couldn’t fathom how early they would’ve had to have woken up.

He caught sight of some of the food and drink vendors as they finished their lap of the track, shoes considerably muddier than before. Dino had talked about all of the parts of the track in such technical ways that Ollie probably knew, but his brain wasn’t up to speed.

The food vendors were selling for abysmal prices, so he was slightly grateful for the meal deal that he’d been able to pick up this morning in a rush. Although it wasn’t much, it would last him until the end of the race.

The two boys also managed to take a look at where all the simulators and the rest of the fan zone activities were. Then he saw the long queues, strung a look at Dino, and they both mutually agreed that they could do without that.

Balling on a budget as much as they could, after all.

Noticing the time, and the way the rain was lashing down even harder than before, they decided it was time to get to their designated seats. While Dino had been commenting on how he thought Ferrari would fare all day, to which Ollie would agree most of the time, his mind couldn’t help but stray back to Kimi.

What would he be feeling about the conditions of the track? Did he think it was possible to even cross the finish line?

The worst part was, Kimi probably wouldn’t even have his phone on him, so Ollie wouldn’t be able to send the younger boy a text message even if he wanted to.

Huffing slightly, he put his phone away as he turned his head to see Dino looking at him with an awestruck expression.

“Mate, we’re at Silverstone and you’re sighing? What’s up?” He prodded. Dino was never one to be emotional, but he was always observant and maybe Ollie was letting this entire thing get to him too much.

For what Dino knows, him and Kimi just text sometimes because Kimi gave him pity tickets. What he doesn’t know is that Ollie was talking about his ex-girlfriend to him over the space of 2 hours last night—and that was a scary thought in itself.

“Nothing, I’m just being dramatic.” Ollie said curtly, checking his phone. It was 30 minutes before the race was starting, and he found himself peering over the ledge to see if he could get any view of Kimi. His own favourite driver was at the back of his mind.

Dino pushed. “Bullshit. Tell me what’s up, you know I’m here for you. Is it because it’s raining?” Well, perhaps he wasn’t the most perceptive as rain didn’t usually get Ollie down.

“This might sound a little dramatic,” Ollie began, “but I’m just worried for Kimi. He didn’t fare well in the last wet race—and it’s slightly wet today. It just feels like we have some sort of connection, y’know?”

Saying that out loud didn’t register to Ollie that they sounded an awfully lot closer than they were made out to be. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

“No, what do you—” he attempted a response, but then cut himself off when he realised what Dino was trying to imply. “You know what I mean. It’s not every day you’re allowed to talk to a Formula 1 driver freely, right? Especially with the lives they live.”

His best friend nodded in acknowledgement. “I get it, mate—I think I’d be the same even if I got into a situation with Lando Norris,” to which Ollie let out a slight chuckle. The boy wasn’t a huge McLaren fan at all.

“I’m being serious when I say I don’t think you should worry too much though. He’s a trained driver, he’s got it under control.” His reassurance was needed, but it didn’t do too much for the British boy.

Then, it all seemed to click in Dino’s head. “Is this because of—”

“Yes. If it happened to me, then it can happen to anyone.” Ollie murmured. “I’m not saying that to wish the worst on him, just being here first hand makes it a lot more…”

“Real?” Dino finished for him.

“Real.” Ollie agreed.

Dino patted Ollie on the back. “For what it’s worth, you know there’s been a bunch of safety regulations put in place since that happened. He wasn’t the only one, Ol.”

Ollie tried his best to keep a straight face. “Let’s try and focus on the race. I don’t need to think about this—not here. Not now.” There was another nod of understanding from the Swedish boy.

They almost didn’t realise the complete roar from the crowd to their right. Both of them peered down, and sure enough, some of the drivers were exiting their garages to talk to the crew on the pit wall, to the engineers about the car.

Ollie was never short-sighted, but at this moment he definitely felt like it. All of the drivers were complete specks on the grid, only being able to tell people apart just by the kit they were wearing.

He thinks that he’s able to spot the Alpine uniform of Pierre Gasly—then his favourite rookie (next to Kimi, now?) Gabriel Bortoleto.

The way Dino grabs onto him when he sees Lewis Hamilton was probably to save him from jumping off the ledge to go and greet him personally. Even if Dino had broken bones, he thinks the boy would do it.

It was harder to see the Mercedes garage from here, as they were just above where the drivers would pull in for their podium positions. The garage lay far away, but Kimi still said that he’d spot him eventually. Maybe after the race, Ollie presumed, so he kept the thoughts at bay for now.

Soon after was the 10 minute warning for the race to begin. Drivers were beginning to settle themselves into their cars, getting ready to go out on the grid for the formation lap.

Ollie’s nerves slightly subsided when he saw his best friend’s genuine excitement for the race to begin. He thought that he should act a little bit like that too, considering that it had once been his dream to come to Silverstone.

It was a dream that slightly faded over time, but that didn’t stop Ollie’s heart from thrumming through his chest at times. The adrenaline was definitely real, and he wouldn’t let much take away from the day he was about to have.

Now that he looked down at the grid, he could spot both Ferraris on the third row back on the grid, Max Verstappen in pole position. He had to look a little further back to see Kimi’s car—the white and the blue of the younger boy’s helmet was unmistakeable. That much, he could see.

Time was passing by ever so fast, and before he knew it, he could hear the sound of the lights flashing—and then they were out. The rev of engines, the cheers of fans and the slight downpour of rain were the prominent things flooding his senses.

The cars flew out of their starting positions so fast that Ollie could only get a glimpse of what they were like going into Turn 1. He recalls some of the rookies getting a little bit of a slower start towards the back, the McLarens behind the Red Bull in front. It was clear they wanted to take lead of the race.

The track had started to dry out a bit, which meant that some drivers were kept on inters while other teams pulled their drivers in for slick tyres. This, unfortunately, did not seem to be the correct route to take when part of the race was concerned.

Liam Lawson had found himself out before he could even finish the first lap, Gabriel Bortoleto spinning out on Lap 3 as a result of the wet weather. Ollie could only feel sympathy for both of them.

The track was far from ideal conditions, as Dino was following commentary on his phone. The McLarens were up at the front battling for the glory of winning Silverstone as Max had spun within the middle of an early lap to put him all the way down in P10.

Kimi hadn’t made any earth shattering mistakes so far, but Mercedes had put both him and Russell on slicks, which proved to be the harder option going into the race. Kimi had slipped a couple positions from P10 down to P13, and it seemed to be where he stayed for the remainder of the race.

Ollie could understand why Kimi was so prone to complaining sometimes. Forget the pressure that the younger boy had—his team were the ones making the wrong decisions at times!

Visibility got worse when Isack Hadjar went into the back of Carlos Sainz on one of the straights, which immediately retired him from the race. It was only a couple of laps later that Sainz found himself retiring due to the damage on his rear wing, positions slipping too much.

This meant that Antonelli was towards the back of the grid, however he was managing to keep the car on the road, at least. Charles Leclerc had managed to find a new job as a lawnmower, going straight over the grass in one of the corners.

“My goat is actually washed,” Ollie commented to Dino. The other boy laughed, but then put on a more serious face when Lewis was just outside the podium spots.

The race was under a safety car for most of the early laps, which meant that any overtaking was purely down to chance, as DRS still wasn’t activated. This meant that the McLaren 1-2 kept for a long time, only switching positions when Oscar Piastri had gained a penalty for overtaking said safety car.

Ollie could picture the face of one of his few mutuals on Twitter who was an Oscar Piastri fan until death, apparently, cursing the FIA. Valid reaction, honestly—he’d be the same if anything was done to Charles.

However, there was really no defending him in this race.

The rest of the race went by without any shocking overtakes, as there were no more stops needed, and it was clear where the race was split. The two McLarens were in a league of their own, with Nico Hulkenberg behind them who had worked his way all the way up from P19.

Honestly, Ollie had to give it to him. It was a stellar drive from the guy in the Sauber.

He couldn’t say he was faring too well though—while Dino was still on the edge of his seat due to Lewis in P4, Kimi had managed to claw his way up to P11. He was just behind his teammate, along with the other Ferrari driver being down in P14.

Wet races definitely weren’t his thing.

The order stayed the same, the aforementioned podium finishers crossing the line in that exact order. It was definitely a special day for Lando Norris as he’d won his home race, however many more people were focused on the fact that Nico had gained his first podium, and rightfully so.

He was slightly bummed that his drivers didn’t perform how he expected them to. Wait, his drivers? He wasn’t meant to be an Antonelli fan after all, but hey, if it was that easy…

Still, it wouldn’t be something that he’d mention to the younger boy anytime soon. It would feed his ego way too much, as all Formula 1 drivers had to have some ego—whether they displayed it or not.

He watched as they pulled in just below him, the rest of the cars entering the pit lane to go into their garages.

“That was sick,” Dino suddenly commented. He’d been slightly quiet due to listening in on the commentary, but his eyes were always flitting up, flitting down. There was no in between.

As much as his previous concerns had rooted him to his spot, Ollie felt like he’d been able to let himself go. “Yeah. I guess you can say my dream came true, huh?”

Dino knocked him on the elbow. “Hey, I told you. Maybe getting tickets from someone was all you needed.” Ollie nodded, going back to his phone for a second.

The silence didn’t last long, however, as Dino shook him by the shoulders. “Ollie, call me crazy, but I think Charles Leclerc is looking up here with Kimi Antonelli.”

The boy’s expression wasn’t exactly one he could pinpoint himself, but the British boy found himself in a state of shock that it took him a couple seconds to turn around.

Indeed, he was right. The red of the Monégasque’s racing suit was much easier to notice first, but of course, Ollie noticed the shorter Italian who was flanking him. Kimi seemed to scan the crowd until, well.

Their eyes met, and Kimi’s entire demeanour changed. He tapped Charles on the shoulder, pointing his finger up to where he and Dino were sitting. The Italian didn’t wave, but the other did—something he could only dream of.

He waved back slightly, as it was pretty easy to spot them in the front row, before Charles whispered something into Kimi’s ear, with the younger shoving him on the shoulder. Charles waved one more time before taking a brief exit.

Dino was slightly floored at that, but Ollie’s gaze was still trained on Kimi. Somehow, the hazel in his eyes shone in the British sun that was now peeking through the crowds, long enough to notice—

That he’d winked.

Or—well—tried to.

It came off as more of a cat scrunching their nose, with Kimi desperately trying to keep his right eye open, but Ollie couldn’t help but feel charmed in some way. Like Kimi had reserved that for him.

The thought shot to the front of his brain, to where he could potentially blame it on his frontal lobe not being developed. He didn’t even realise that the blurry speck that was Kimi was moving away now. Probably all the way back to his garage.

He almost wanted to shout ‘Where is he going? Come back, little speck of dust!’

As always, whether fortunately or unfortunately, his best friend’s voice brought him back to the current situation. “Did he wink at you?”

Ollie flushed. Out of embarrassment? “You saw that?” he uttered, almost like he was questioning himself too.

Dino huffed exasperatingly. “I’m so fucking confused. Is this Kimi’s attempt at trying to court you or something—don’t princes have to do that?”

Princes? “I don’t think Kimi’s trying to get with me, mate.” Ollie responded flatly.

“Have you asked him yourself?”

“I don’t want to make a fool of myself. Zip it.” It came off slightly harsher than intended, but that was only because he wanted to protect Kimi’s image. He wouldn’t want to rip the career from the young boy.

It’s almost like Ollie had become somewhat protective over him, now that he had a connection to someone that was actually in the fast lane. Jesus Christ, he thought, before he noticed multiple fans cheering once again. The podium.

The British national anthem rang out when all 3 podium finishers were on top, spraying each other and the crowd with champagne. It was all hustle and bustle after then—some people rushed to get food, others to the stage that was just a distance from the main track.

For Ollie and Dino, they were not forking out the money to pay for a hotel, which meant that their journey back started now. Quickly, Ollie sent Kimi a text to acknowledge the fact that he’d been there and saw him:

dont be disappointed in ur drive
also wtf was that???
charles leclerc??
just letting u know i had a heart attack
u cured it with that horrible attempt of a wink

He wasn’t sure when the reply was going to come through—but his phone was dangerously close to dying. He’d pray that his powerbank had enough power by the time they made it on the train, because he doesn’t exactly remember how much it had left in it.

All he remembers from the journey back is faded music, conversations with Dino, and times when the train walls had felt uncomfortable against his head. Even then, he had to change trains twice.

What would you say when you’d just come back from your hometown’s grand prix, with tickets that weren’t originally yours along with your favourite driver waving at you?

Ollie decided not to think about the wink (or attempted wink) too much.

જ⁀➴

He gets home close to midnight, and he nearly crashes out on his bed. He leaves all of the bathroom activities for a short while, as he realised that Kimi had started messaging him as he was changing trains.

He’d tried to respond, but then the service got really bad and he wanted to kill the railway he was currently on. However, with his eyes trying to stay open, he’d seen the flood of messages from the younger boy.

You know I can pull some strings (;
Why are you calling my wink horrible, amore mio?
I know it made your heart flutter
But eh, I’m not disappointed
The car is very specific and I haven’t adapted to the wet yet
It proved hard for George as well so I don’t think it matters to me that much


He’d dismissed all the parts about the car, instead focusing on what Kimi had decided to open up with. Amore mio. Now, Ollie was no Italian expert, but he was pretty sure that it sounded pretty similar to ‘mi amor’.

You didn’t have to be a genius to work that one out.

It suddenly felt really stuffy in the room—prompting Ollie to leave whatever hidden meanings he didn’t want to register behind the text in his bedroom, heading to wash his face instead.

Staring at himself in the cabinet just above his sink, he could see that the tips of his cheeks were burning red. Did I get sunburned? was the main thought, but when he touched his cheeks, they weren’t burning.

It was like a subtle heat that was threatening to grow if he did the wrong thing. The final attempts before you finally make fire.

He looked back again. He looked quite tired, it was inevitable, but he couldn’t stop the curve upwards in his lips when he recalled how Kimi had looked after the race, not at all disappointed by his own drive.

Maybe he didn’t need Ollie’s reassurance. Maybe, just maybe, that made the older boy happy.

Heading back into his room just 10 minutes later, he’d realised that the text he was writing was still stuck, not sent, so it may have looked like Ollie was typing for the last 10 minutes. Deleting it, he started out again.

went to get ready for bed mb
next time you introduce us i expect first name basis

Trust me, he knows

and why might that be?

Well when you’re friends with the one and only

i dont remember you being max verstappen

That would never be good enough for you
As much as I love him, Max’s word choice is very unfiltered
You seem very fragile, orsetto

fragile? i’m british. there’s not much that can hurt me

Oh well
Too sad you won’t see me again for a while

you’re not staying in london?

Not tonight, but I’m actually staying for a week
Something something photoshoot
Bla bla bla something about a cake too I don’t know

is one of the schedules meet up with your new best friend?

Gabriel Bortoleto?

-_- you’re not serious

You’re right I know I’m free on Tuesday
Not sure the excuse I’ll be able to give though

old childhood friend that you’re desperate to meet again? or just do what i did, sneak out

In broad daylight?

you’re in a hotel. you’re 18
im sure it doesnt matter THAT much

Se solo
I’ll see what I can do, Ollie

it’s fine if you cant
u know how bored i get kim

Know? I could write a book

bet

Okay let’s tone it down mate
Just keep Tuesday free :)

will do, sir 🫡
i think im going to sleep now i see the light

Bambinooo
Always sleeping before me

?!>!>$!!??”
you’re younger than me

Sweet dreams
Don’t let the bedbugs bite

wtv
goodnight, kimi (:

His head hit the pillow not too long after, but his heart didn’t seem to slow down. He stuck a leg out of the bed for a bit of air—as it was particularly hot, still—the propositions running through his head.

He wasn’t sure he could survive an entire day with Kimi Antonelli up close. If he couldn’t survive 10 minutes and a wink from afar, then maybe it was the wrong idea to meet your idols.

Hell—Kimi wasn’t even his idol before this!

When his eyes finally drifted off to sleep, he decided to ignore the way the last thing he thought about was Kimi calling him a baby in Italian, too far away in dreamland to think about the connotations behind the nickname.

Just across the country, Kimi Antonelli had already gotten past his security (read: his PR team) to see his favourite British boy on Tuesday. Sorry, George.

The plans laid few and far between, but to the Italian, it felt a lot like a date.

Chapter Text

It was Monday night, and Ollie found himself awake in the night flitting to the fact that he’d be going to spend his time with a driver that he’d been talking to for almost a week. If only all his friendships were able to move like this.

The only thing that was an anomaly to him at the moment was—how the fuck was he actually meant to present himself? He’d never seen Kimi in attire that wasn’t branded by Mercedes, and after all, they’d agreed to go to London.

The conversation was brought up when Ollie’s phone had been manically buzzing during the time he sat down for dinner, opening his phone when he’d made it back up to his room to Kimi waffling on about the F1 Arcade.

In all seriousness, Ollie did not want to lose any dignity he had left. He knew the area quite well, luckily, and instead decided to stay within Central London where he thought he’d be able to keep Kimi in from the hustle and bustle of the crowds.

He had some pocket money to spend, anyway, so what was it if not another day out?

It wouldn’t explain why he wasn’t treating it like one, however. He felt the overwhelming urge to text Kimi and ask him what he’d be wearing, how he wanted Ollie to dress, whether he’d prefer to take the tube or to get around by buses.

That all seemed like such a rush the night before, and maybe it might seem like Ollie was trying a little too hard. Then again, it definitely wasn’t everyday that an F1 driver found a day free in his schedule to hang out with a fan.

Almost felt a bit like charity service.

Staring into his wardrobe, however, he decided that there was only one way that he was going to figure out what to wear. The self proclaimed fashion police itself.

“Let me get this straight,” Dino’s voice picked up after Ollie had finished ranting. “You’re calling me at quarter past 11 on a Monday night to ask me what you think you should wear when you see Kimi Antonelli tomorrow?” Dino questioned.

Well, that was exactly it. “Yes. Any problem with that?” Ollie challenged.

Dino just chuckled. “Well, yes and no. Yes, because you have the worst wardrobe ever and 9 times out of 10 you’ll just wear a white t-shirt and whatever jeans are the first ones you see in the morning.” Ouch.

“Secondly, the way you’re stressing out over this makes it seem like you’re going on a date with him.” Dino’s tone was casual, but Ollie went to choking out a response.

“Date? Why would I date somebody that I met 6 days ago, let alone Kim—have you gone mental?” The words came out exasperated, but it seemed to be giving Dino the entertainment that he wanted.

Chuckling, a reply came soon after. “I’m not trying to imply anything at all,” Dino drawled, dragging out the last sound on ‘all’. “I just find it funny to see you in distress. The fact of the matter is that Kimi probably won’t care what you turn up in.”

“How do you know that?” Ollie exclaimed, beratingly.

“Are you sure that he didn’t say this was a date?” Dino said in an accusatory tone. Ollie responded with his own protests yet again, before Dino asked him to turn on his camera and show him first hand.

The Swedish boy’s own face popping up on the screen, Ollie flipped his camera around and went through the hangers, then the drawers. There was no sound from Dino while he was doing this, almost like he was taking a mental note for if this ever happened in the future.

“Stop!” Dino yelled, when Ollie’s hands trailed over a shirt that he’d probably gone over before. He pulled it out to see that it was one that he’d bought on holiday while in Gran Canaria once, thinking it was pretty summery.

Ollie pondered. “This is essentially a flannel.” It was a statement, one that had a questioning tone behind it too. The clothing item in question was black and grey, and it was too dark for his usual taste. Trust the process, I guess?

“I’m not done.” Dino explained. “If you pair that with one of your many white shirts, then you don’t have to go out in a shirt and make it seem like you’re getting all fancy.”

It was pretty good logic, if he was being completely honest. “I swear to god, whatever you do, do not pair it with those blue skinny jeans which I know you want to.” Dino’s voice rang over the line again, almost demanding, and Ollie had to promptly shut himself up because that is exactly what he was about to do.

“What else do you suggest then, fashion police?” Ollie’s remark came off as teasing, but it was ineffective towards Dino who seemed to be taking this a lot more seriously than Ollie would’ve ever considered.

Then he came to his senses. “Do you remember that time when you, my friend Doriane and I went out together? She dragged you into the really vintage shop and you came out with that really nice pair of, like, dark navy jeans that were really baggy?”

Ollie nodded. “I think I put them in the other wardrobe, let me check.” The camera was still not on Ollie’s face, so every movement was being picked up, but he opened the other side and they were right there, front and centre.

“I’m not telling you to try them on now, but I think it’d be good if you woke up a little earlier to save yourself any internal panic. It looks good on paper, don’t you think?” That question almost came out in a statement, but Ollie couldn’t find it in him to refute.

It did look like a good outfit. The sort of thing that Ollie would wear if he put in effort, if he ever followed his friend’s advice on how not to dress like a middle aged man.

Sometimes, Ollie took it in his stride—but maybe that method didn’t work anymore. Or perhaps they’d been hiding their truths, which contrasted Dino’s words entirely to him over the time that he’d known him.

“I trust you to pair a nice pair of shoes with it,” said the boy from over the call, “not those ugly pair of brown shoes that look like you’re going to a farm.”

Ollie laughed, “I threw those shoes out a long time ago. You don’t have to worry, mate.” The other let out a sigh of relief as if Ollie was already having that internal battle, and they ended up both just laughing it off.

The conversation soon switched to what they were actually doing, and it was Ollie’s turn to admit that he didn’t really have a plan other than just going and figuring it out from there. It’s not like they were going anywhere out of the way for one specific thing—as he didn’t want Kimi to get mobbed.

The Italian had reassured him that he’d wear sunglasses, but masks were never his thing. Luckily, the weather was quite sunny for tomorrow. It should be self-explanatory because it was the start of July, but you can never really trust the British weather.

Dino had hit back with his suggestion that if they wanted to go somewhere where they could be confined, then a shopping centre would surely be a better idea, but Ollie thought that the idea seemed like they were actually confined to one place.

London wasn’t the dreamiest place ever, but Ollie still wanted to be soaking up the good weather while it lasted. The only thing is, he’d have to watch out so that the other didn’t get his phone stolen (which he’d warned him about in good time, god bless).

“So you’re planning to stay there for how long?” Another question presented itself. This wasn’t something that Ollie had thought about either.

“Um, perhaps just until…we get bored of each other? Do you think it’d be too cliché to go for a meal? If all else fails, we’ll just go to Wingstop. I trust it.” It was more a self-affirmation, but it had Dino making a humming noise over the phone.

He came to a conclusion soon after. “I think a meal would be nice. Like you said, it’s not a date, so people shouldn’t get the wrong idea. It’s different to when you were with—” he rambled, before cutting himself off.

“It’s fine, mate. To be honest, Kimi has done a good enough job of making me forget about her, even though he was the one to bring her up.”

“I’m glad you’re moving on, anyway. I have nothing to move on from, I’m going to have to set up a Hinge profile in desperation.”

Ollie laughed, full blown at that. “Imagine you’re on one of those TikToks where they analyse Hinge profiles.” Dino’s face made a contorted expression at that, any ideas of downloading the app now fully gone from his mind if that was anything to say.

They talked about when they’d next see each other before Ollie hung up because he was going to get ready for bed. Which was a common thing, as Dino muttered that he’d go back to watching whatever he was watching. He’d probably mentioned, but Ollie had been too concerned about one thing to care about the other.

His night routine didn’t take long, and when he’d finally slipped under the covers after what seemed to be too long of a night than usual, he wondered if he should message Kimi.

The younger boy hadn’t messaged him since the afternoon today, only sending a picture of the lunch that he’d been given today. Ollie was surprised at the lack of carbohydrates on the plate, but he presumed that it had something to do with Kimi’s diet.

He came to the decision that texting Kimi would make him even more stressed, as if he had to impress, so he decided to go to his Netflix account and see if anything was worth watching that he’d recently started.

Sleep overtook him soon after, the clothes tucked up in the chair in the corner of the room a vague reminder of what he’d got himself into for tomorrow.

All the doubts aside, his (developing) frontal lobe told him that it’d be something to look forward to.

જ⁀➴

It was, quite literally, just under a week since Ollie had stepped off the exact same doors—but he found himself in his country’s capital city once again, for what could be argued as the same reason as last time.

Well, last time it was just Formula 1, so maybe there was more of a purpose now that he knew who he was meeting?

Following Dino’s advice, he’d put on the outfit before he left, and it actually worked quite well. The only downside to it was that the jeans could make it so that if the sun was too harsh on them, then they wouldn’t be the most comfortable to walk around in.

As the saying went, beauty is pain. At least he thought— it might be wrong.

He’d messaged Kimi as he woke up to tell him where to go. He didn’t envision Kimi being able to show up on the London Underground all by himself, so he went somewhere that was accessible to drivers. A little out of the way from where he wanted, but there wasn’t much he could do.

Along with that, Kimi had asked for Ollie’s location yesterday so that he could know whether or not he was going in the right direction. It was a bit of a weird request, but Ollie received Kimi’s location in return.

He didn’t want to seem like a stalker at all, but it would be nice to know what Kimi got up to when they weren’t together, when he wasn’t racing. Ollie had pre-warned him that he checks quite often, to which the younger shrugged it off.

It wasn’t his situation to deal with now, anyways.

He tracked the location marker on his phone to see that Kimi was about 2 minutes away, on schedule to arrive earlier than the 12:30pm they’d agreed to meet up at. Ollie was okay at waking up in the morning, but Kimi had mentioned that he’d complain if they weren’t going anywhere of utmost importance.

Ollie had concluded that, to him, this may not be of importance, and so settled for the later start. It helped him mentally prepare for the day as far as he was concerned.

Time flew quickly, as before he knew it, he saw a sleek Mercedes pulling up to right where he was standing, and it wasn’t a guessing game as to who it was. Kimi stepped out of the back of the car, obviously not caring to drive today, muttering a few words in Italian before he gave Ollie his full attention.

It was the first time that Ollie was able to take in Kimi’s appearance outside of his team uniform, and he seemed…nice.

There wasn’t really a word to describe it. He was wearing a white t-shirt, similar to Ollie, but instead paired with a grey jacket that looked like it was made out of a material similar to denim. He was wearing a pair of jorts, too—which seemed like it shouldn’t have gone with the outfit, but it did.

They matched the jacket, and it was perfect for the weather, after all. The sun wasn’t blazing, but it was nice enough for them to not worry about being too cold either. Ollie couldn’t help but think that they were matching in some way, with both of their grey outer pieces.

“Here’s to thinking I was going to see you in something other than a white t-shirt,” Kimi commented. Okay, so maybe he’d picked up on it as well.

Ollie refuted quickly, “The first time you saw me I was in a Ferrari shirt. Point not taken.” Kimi shot back with his own evidence of the amount of photos that Ollie had sent him, whether of him or something else, where Kimi was able to see a white shirt of some sort.

The older boy knew it was going to be a losing battle, so he ended up just letting Kimi win that one. “So,” Kimi started, “where to, tour guide?” He placed the sunglasses which were resting on his head down onto his face, and Ollie noticed the cap he had swinging from his fingers at that moment too.

How he’d hate being a celebrity.

It was a little bit of a walk into where they actually needed to go, considering that Ollie had to come further out to actually meet Kimi, but it didn’t mean that the conversation still didn’t flow freely between them.

Kimi ended up talking about the promotions that he’d had to film yesterday, about how it seemed like a waste of his time but he ended up getting a free cake out of it. (“Well, I had a slice, and then my team confiscated it and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to see it again.”)

They’d made it into where they were headed—Covent Garden—where there were a bunch of places to go. Ollie recalls his first time coming here, going to an Italian chain while there was a huge penguin outside of a store across the road. It was hard to forget.

Recently, though, he’d been into a record store in the area with his friends, and so his inclination was to head towards there. “Do you like record stores? Like vinyls and that shit?” Ollie asked.

Kimi nodded, “Let’s go. I don’t actually know what your music taste is like.” Ollie was slightly ashamed of it, as his music taste didn’t exactly span many genres, but it was what he liked and was used to.

They stepped inside, and Kimi (with his cap on now) found himself drawn to the records that were placed at the front of the store. The sign above them read ‘new releases’, so Ollie could infer that Kimi was quite up to date with music.

He held up a vinyl just then, the size of it bigger than his head. He was able to recognise the person on the front of the album. “PinkPantheress?” He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this.

“I actually have a signed version of this at my house, I just wanted to check the price of it. I asked her to draw a picture of Patrick Star from memory.” Kimi recounted, and Ollie just giggled at the thought of the artist seeing that request.

Then again, it seemed quintessentially Kimi.

They scurried off to the back of the store not long after, where Ollie was trying to find the missing Radiohead vinyl to complete his collection. He wasn’t much of a vinyl collector himself, he didn’t really care for different versions, but it was nice to complete just this one thing.

“You know, you tipped me off as the type of guy to listen to rap. Garage. The sort of things I was hearing at Silverstone.” Kimi commented. Well—he wasn’t far off at all.

“I do, sometimes.” Ollie responded curtly. He didn’t really want to continue with it, because it was moreso a guilty pleasure, but Kimi did anyway.

“I knew it. Are you like, Central Cee’s number one fan?” Ollie slapped Kimi lightly on the shoulder.

Although he wouldn’t get away with saying anything blasphemous about someone that he did, in fact, listen to. “Don’t think I didn’t see the way you were looking at the Sabrina Carpenter vinyls earlier.” The British boy was keen to flip the conversation, but Kimi seemed unfazed.

Turning to Ollie, he shrugged. “I just wanted to see if they had any of her older albums. I would’ve got them. Hold on—there was a bunch of metal music over here. Do you think they have Sleep Token?” Kimi’s voice got quieter as he trudged further towards the back of the store, causing a shock to Ollie’s system yet again.

Was this seriously the guy that listened to everything? Metal? (Later, he finds out that his cousin got him into it.)

They’d ended up making no purchases, but Kimi had noted down a couple of the prices to which he said he’d compare them to the ones in Italy. “I just don’t have room in my suitcase, either. I wouldn’t want it to get damaged!” he added.

The sun had risen a little higher in the sky by the time they made it out, and so Ollie seemed to have routed himself to the coolest place possible. He knew there was a market nearby if they went down a couple of side alleys, and while it wasn’t the shortest route, it allowed for the two to keep on conversing.

“You know, I should just make you add my Spotify or something.” Kimi gestured, alluding to their previous escapade in the record store.

Ollie was starting to regret not bringing sunglasses. “You know there’s an easier way, right?” Ollie replied, one hand in front of his eyes so he could keep talking to Kimi without getting blinded by the sun. On top of that, he was the navigator here.

Kimi looked up slightly from where he’d been looking at the ground, feet staying on the pavement. “Really?”

“It’s called Airbuds,” Ollie explained. “You can keep track of your own listening stats there too, but a bunch of my friends and I have it and you can react to what other people are listening to. Usually I get a bunch of bad emojis.”

Kimi smiled. “Okay, I’m sure it can’t be that bad, but the thought of that is just a little amusing.” It seemed everyone loved to take the piss out of Ollie recently. “I’ll get it when I get home and share it with you or something.”

Ollie nodded, going into a tangent about how his music taste wasn’t actually bad, he just didn’t give many things a chance. He also had better things to do than listen to music, which Kimi seemed to take offense to if the gasp that was heard said anything.

He learned then that whenever Kimi had the chance, which was considerably less nowadays, he’d be listening to music. Friday used to be his favourite day of the week solely due to the fact that a bunch of new music would be released that day—something about tracking weeks.

Due to this, Kimi had mentioned that he’d been to a bunch of concerts over the short period of his life. Once again, they’d slowed down, but if anything happened in the week or just in a blank period in Kimi’s life, he’d always try to go.

“I never expect special treatment when I go or anything—because look at what happened at that Coldplay concert.” Both boys laughed, the memory still fresh in their minds. “It’s just nice to be among the atmosphere. I could never get standing tickets, not while I’m like this, I think.”

Ollie scrunched his nose. “So you won’t get standing tickets but you’ll roam the streets of London slightly protected by me?”

Kimi looked up at him now, sunglasses still on. “My noble steed, please protect me from any crazy fans…” the younger boy came behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist.

Ollie stopped in the middle of the pavement—Kimi’s head went into his back, a couple pedestrians complaining and making their way around the two.

It may have looked very domestic, but Ollie wouldn’t know. Everything was going in one ear and out the other, the sun perhaps 5 degrees hotter than it was a second ago. His ears were turning red at the tips.

Then Kimi came by his side. “This doesn’t look like a market to me.” Walking on a couple of steps, he realised the other boy hadn’t moved. “Ollie?” he called.

Shaking his head, still wondering what the fuck that was, he caught up to Kimi. “Coming!”

જ⁀➴

Although there wasn’t as much to do in the market than originally planned, there was still enough to keep the two busy while they were there—extending into about an hour or two.

They’d grabbed a burrito for lunch from an independent seller, Kimi almost moaning at the taste because he was hardly ever allowed to have anything like this. He exclaimed, “I’ll have to go on a strict diet until Belgium. I’m completely serious, by the way.”

He’d noticed a little bit of the sauce smeared around the top of his mouth, where they dipped to make the cupid’s bow by his upper lip. He didn’t want to be like all those cliché couples and wipe it off for him, but he did take a napkin and hand it to Kimi so that he could wipe it off himself.

Even if he got dangerously close to doing it himself, because for a driver, Kimi could not follow directions to save his life.

They loitered around the space for a while, after Kimi had dragged him into a store because he’d seen a bunch of badges, and apparently ‘needed some to decorate his bag’. Ollie wasn’t sure what type of bag Kimi meant—as he’d come without one today—but he let himself go with the younger anyway.

He’d even spotted a badge of the Mercedes logo, and was now on the look out for badges of himself. “I’m not narcissistic,” he reassured the other, “but who wouldn’t like a badge of themselves?” Okay, that didn’t sound half as reassuring.

They were just on their way out of the market, heading out of a different exit because Ollie said there was more to do in a certain direction, when they’d stumbled across a store which had a photobooth inside.

He could almost map out in real time the way Kimi’s eyes lit up, and from then on, he knew there was no escaping it. “Ollie. We have to go in.” Kimi demanded, although the tone came out slightly pleading. “This is basically a testament to our friendship.”

Ollie sighed. “If I have to pay double digits for photos of us on a piece of card, I’m considering leaving you on the street.” Kimi shook his head.

“I will pay for it all if I have to. Won’t you want to put these photos on your ceiling so you can stare at me when you miss me?” Ollie didn’t answer that. The question could be rhetorical in his mind if he wanted it to be.

There were a couple of people standing around as Ollie had noticed there were multiple places to actually get your photo taken within the many booths, each of them having different modifications.

He saw there was a sign for a vintage photobooth, a camera that was at a high angle, a normal one with two different colour backgrounds and one that could only fit one person in (unless the other wanted to sit on a lap, or something).

There was a price board just in front of where the photo booths were, and it actually wasn’t as expensive as Ollie was expecting it to be. What he hadn’t focused on yet was the fact that there were many accessories just on the shelves before the photobooths, somewhere where Kimi Antonelli had found himself roped into.

He wouldn’t have noticed if Kimi wasn’t beckoning him over. “There’s bear ears here.” the younger boy pointed out, holding them in his left hand. “You have to put them on. Please?”

“I’m going to look—” Ollie attempted to refute.

Kimi wouldn’t allow it. “I don’t care how you look. Who else is going to see these photos? Your great great grandfather who was alive during Queen Victoria’s reign? I don’t think so. Put them on.” At this point, there wasn’t even any use in arguing.

“What are you going to wear, then?” Ollie observed. It was much of what the other boy seemed to be doing as well—while there was a lot of choice, he couldn’t seem to make a decision.

Turning to him again, Kimi spoke. “Do you think there’s a certain type of animal that I look like?” Well, Ollie couldn’t say he’d ever made the connotation to compare Kimi to a wild animal before, so god forbid if he took his time to study up.

He could’ve made the comparison of a rabbit, with the amount of times Kimi would scrunch up his nose, but he wasn’t as skittish for that. He was sly like a fox, but he didn’t have the facial features to match. Speaking of facial features—

Kimi was looking up at him with wide eyes, as if Ollie’s words would be the holy grail until the day he died. It was almost comical, but something stirred in the British boy’s stomach as Kimi looked…expectant.

He looked at the accessories just to try and run his memory. That’s when he saw it.

He grabbed a pair of deer antlers and placed them firmly on Kimi’s head. “A deer. Like Bambi.” were the only words that came out of Ollie’s mouth—but realistically, what else did he have to convey?

Making that comparison in his head seemed a little stupid, as if imagining Kimi as a deer in headlights was everything but what he actually did for a living.

The other didn’t seem to mind though, content with the item that was on his head. He began walking over to the photobooths, which apparently he’d caught other people paying for when they were there, so it was just a matter of waiting for the one they wanted to become available.

They decided to go for the blue background that was like a normal photobooth, with 6 photos filling up the grid. They were allowed to take 8 photos, and Ollie had no idea how to pose like a normal person, so this could only go downhill for him.

Making their way in with the accessories that they’d chosen, Kimi seated further to the inside of the booth. They made sure to confirm how many photos they were taken before there was a quick 5 second warning that flashed on the screen soon after.

“Make a heart!” Kimi exclaimed, already holding out his right hand in anticipation. Ollie followed him, just smiling at the camera while trying to keep the ears on top of his head.

The next photo was silly, Kimi opting to stick his tongue out, Ollie following him but hardly as obnoxious. Kimi forced Ollie to do a bear pose while he looked like he was getting attacked, and then shortly after, kneeled down in front of the camera while Ollie placed his hands on Kimi’s antlers.

There were 3 pretty normal poses after that— they both made a peace sign, one where Kimi is above Ollie this time, and the other with their arms around each other. Ollie could’ve sworn that he heard Kimi squeak a little, but maybe it was the flash of the camera instead.

Their final pose was one that Ollie was just happy to sit and smile there for, as they hadn’t actually done a normal photo, so to say. Kimi seemed to have other ideas, however— “We should do one where we just look at each other. Quick, look at me!”

Kimi was like a man on a mission, and the words didn’t register in Ollie’s head until Kimi was bringing his head to face his, their foreheads just a slight distance away compared to where they were sitting before.

From here, Ollie was transported back to when he first met Kimi. As far as the little details on his face, the way his hands rested softly on his cheeks, nearing his ears. The Italian boy looked at him with the sweetest smile ever, one that Ollie thought that only someone of a love interest was deserving of.

His eyes bored into him like a deer, and god forbid Ollie shouldn’t have made that comparison, because he couldn’t get the image out of his mind. All that happened between the flash of the camera and the last second was Ollie staring at Kimi like he was never going to let go.

He doesn’t have time to think about how time slowed down before Kimi was satisfied, jumping away to select the six photos that they wanted on the grid. Pointing to the last one, he laughed “you look so fucking scared in this one! Your ears are almost falling off, too!”

It was like someone had attacked Kimi Antonelli with the giggle juice. Ollie, on the other hand, didn’t want to be teased relentlessly for faltering at someone he knows, theoretically, he shouldn’t be. “I personally like the one where I’m squashing you.”

“Well, I like my version too, so we’re getting both.” It was a fair deal.

They chose three of the other pictures, because surprisingly, all of them looked good. Ollie insisted on the one where Kimi looked smaller than him when they had their arms around each other, and Kimi just looked away while saying “Okay. You can have that one.”

Waiting for their photos to print wasn’t long, but the screen outside showed a timelapse of the two boys taking their photos. There were times when Kimi looked away, times when Ollie wanted the ground to swallow him up whole. Eventually, they gained their photos, and Ollie didn’t know if he was forever grateful for the experience or whether he was banning himself from photo booths for life.

They came out on the other side of the market not long after, realising the time had gone just after four in the afternoon. Ollie was slightly stuck on what to do, but Kimi added in his own suggestion this time. “Hey, do you know where Camden is?”

Ollie nodded. “It’ll take a little while on the tube, but we can get there.” The words seemed almost programmed as they came out of his mouth, but the Italian boy shook his head at those words.

“Do you think we could use a different mode of transport?” Kimi suggested. The tone of his voice was indecipherable, and Ollie was braving the worst.

“How do you know different modes of transport in London..?” the older boy questioned. Kimi seemingly wasn’t taking the tube at all, but instead headed in the direction of Central London once again. “Was there even any reason for us to come out this side?”

“Isn’t Tottenham Court Road close by?” Kimi shouted back. Opening his map, Ollie found out that Kimi wasn’t too far off.

Catching up to Kimi, he nudged him on the shoulder. “What do you even have planned? I was meant to plan this, mate!” he exclaimed, tone coming out slightly whiny.

Kimi shrugged. “I just want to see if something actually exists.”

જ⁀➴

That’s the story of how Ollie Bearman found himself trailing a Formula 1 driver on a Lime bike in the middle of Central London.

“How long will it take?” Kimi had asked. When Ollie’s response came as ‘20 minutes’, his eyes flitted left once they’d entered the vicinity, and there was no stopping him.

The thing is, Ollie didn’t even mind cycling. He did it from time to time as his brother was into it more than he was. On a leisurely day out in London, however? His legs weren’t the best prepared.

Kimi was still a reachable distance in front of him, with Ollie having to shout out the directions whenever Kimi slowed down and looked back in something that the older boy could only describe as complete fear.

“TURN RIGHT, KIMI!” He was pretty sure all of the pedestrians were weirded out by some boy who did not sound from around here screaming at someone who definitely did not have an English name, on bikes you could hire in the city.

Ollie still didn’t know the implications as to why Kimi wanted to go to Camden. Camden Market, perhaps? He’d tried some Dutch pancakes from there once and they were nice, but sometimes the cobbles would hurt his feet after a long day out. Specifically after he’d gone from Greenwich to Camden in one day. Felt like whiplash.

The ride had actually taken them around 25 minutes, because they’d gotten lost as they were making their way north and made a huge circle around somewhere by accident. They weren’t going the fastest either, as London traffic was extremely unpredictable.

Sometimes, when they were waiting for traffic lights, Kimi would just turn back to Ollie—his hair slightly windswept, curls falling all over his ears—and display a thumbs up to the other boy. One time, he was breathless doing this, which made laughter catch in Ollie’s throat before he realised that the green light had been on for a good 5 seconds.

So, all in all, bike rides with Kimi would probably be a lot more controlled if they were to do it in the countryside instead. It was much too exhilarating for the early evening, with the sun still beating down on them.

He knew he’d have to have a shower when he got home tonight, but so be it.

They parked the bikes at the nearest available stand, which happened to be just a few miles back from the tube station itself. They weren’t too pricey—even though a tube may have been cheaper for Kimi as he drove here, it didn’t matter that much to Ollie anyways.

Hearts pumping and a light sheen of sweat on both of their foreheads, it was Ollie’s time to finally ask that burning question. “Why Camden?” his voice was still slightly broken from the activity, but Kimi just strolled along.

“You said you were hungry, right?” Kimi questioned. Well, Ollie had mentioned it as they were leaving the photo booth, but he didn’t expect the Italian to actually pick up on it.

“Slightly.” Ollie mentioned.

That seemed to be enough for Kimi. “My aunt owns an Italian place like 15 minutes from here. She’s lived near London for around 10 years, and she always saves a table at the back for if family decides to visit. She’ll let us in, if you want to eat.”

Ollie grimaced slightly. “Are you sure I won’t be intruding as—a non-family member?” Kimi giggled.

“I think she’ll just be glad that I’ve made a friend from outside the grid. I went there just before the season kicked off with my mother and my little sister, and I was too busy fanboying over Hamilton.” he said it with no shame, but then again, why would you be ashamed of liking Lewis Hamilton?

“Lead the way, then.” Ollie finished, but Kimi bashfully asked if Ollie could look up the address on his maps, because that’s all he knew. Just like Kimi said, however, it was a 15 minute walk away.

For part of the walk, they let the silence drown them. The breeze was starting to get a little less humid as they made it into the evening—whether it would stay like this after their meal, Ollie doesn’t know.

It was the most quiet that Kimi had been all day, with the boy looking around to observe some of the sights that were around. Camden Market itself, the spectacles that sat upon the bridge, the river which held the many canals running through it.

There were times where he would take off his cap because he secretly hated wearing them, the sun shining on his brown locks. The sunglasses seemed to be a permanent fixture to the outfit, sans the time when he took them off for the photobooth.

As they were around 5 minutes into the journey, however, Kimi tapped him on the shoulder. Or, nudged, per se. He turned as they were walking to see the younger boy holding out an AirPod like a peace offering.

“You can queue a song and I can actually get a glimpse of what your music taste is like, no?” Kimi exemplified. That was far too much pressure for what was meant to be a serene walk, but Ollie accepted it anyway.

He queued a song, Kimi queued a song—they both agreed to let whatever was on Kimi’s playlist play until they made it to the restaurant.

There were slight laughs exchanged when Ollie’s song played, hums of content when they got into it, Kimi seeming a lot more expressive as he’d self-confessed to being sort of a music nerd just after.

In the grand scheme of things, they were just listening to music from each other, as if connecting in ways that weren’t physical. Perhaps, it was something that Ollie felt comfortable with.

Between the sung lyrics and changing sun patterns, they’d made it to their destination. They’d managed to cut the walk time down due to people trying to rush past them, thinking that they had to adapt to the London pace once again.

Still, it looked slightly busy in Kimi’s aunt’s restaurant when they’d gotten there. Of course, there would be reservations, but that didn’t stop Kimi from holding the door open for Ollie.

Kimi muttered something to the host in Italian, Ollie catching that he’d managed to say his name when he was speaking. He seemed to respond with immediate effect, and Kimi was echoing for him to follow them to their table.

The table was slightly secluded—up a short flight of stairs, but the table decoration was beautiful, and the lighting was slightly dim to give the entire place an ambience. It was as if they hadn’t stepped out of the sun that was still in the sky.

Before they could get settled, the host had talked to Kimi once again in Italian, something that he visibly brightened up to. “He said that my aunt is around, so she’ll come to visit eventually. We might have to stick around for a little while longer.”

Ollie smiled. “Fine by me. I don’t have anywhere to be, but if I miss the last train home I think my mum will go mental.” Kimi laughed.

“I’d never let that happen, orsetto.” Whew. Ollie had forgotten to take his jacket off, because the temperature of the room just got that tiny bit warmer.

One of the waiters came by to take their orders, this time speaking in English so that both boys could understand. Ollie would definitely have to brush up on his Italian.

They’d ordered their drinks, food being decided slightly later as the host had given them some bread just before the waiter had arrived.

“Why does this feel so much like fine dining?” Ollie questioned, as if he was thinking out loud.

Kimi’s response came quickly. “It really isn’t. My aunt wanted it to feel like it, but then not have to serve miniscule portions like they do on those tasting menus. Us Italians all agree that food shouldn’t be served like that.”

They’d both ordered non-alcoholic drinks, although Ollie had threatened to order a cider if Kimi tried explaining what a dish meant to him in Italian one more time. He decided to play it safe and order a margarita pizza, whereas Kimi had gone for some pasta dish that he couldn’t dare to repeat the name of.

“So,” Ollie started. “what did you think about my amazing hangout planning skills?” It came with a slight wiggle of the eyebrows, and Kimi looked incredulously distraught—as if it was the worst thing Ollie could have pulled.

Dismissing that, he responded anyway. “Even though I dragged you here against your own volition, I think it was a good day. I may have terrorised you in the photo booth, however. Can’t apologise for it though, eh?” Kimi stated.

“Don’t talk to me about that photobooth. You’re lucky that I’m a good person who decided to do it out of the generosity of my own heart.” Clutching his heart as a keepsake, Kimi giggled slightly. His eyes crinkled up, and Ollie lost his breath for a second.

“Sure.” Kimi replied curtly. “I never got to ask you if you actually enjoyed Silverstone, anyway.” He popped a slice of bread into his mouth.

Ollie’s face went into a sort of neutral state. The answer is yes, he did enjoy Silverstone. However, there was something chipping at the back of his brain, almost like he was unsure of how to thread the needle through the loop.

“Yes. If it happened to me, then it can happen to anyone.”

Would it be a mood killer?

Kimi seemed to catch onto his inner monologue. “Should I take that as a yes, or?” From the tone of his voice, it was clear that Kimi himself seemed to be walking on eggshells now.

Ollie took a breath. “You don’t mind if I go a little…traumatic on you? Is it too early in the day?” He attempted to laugh it off, but it came off more nervous than anything.

Kimi’s eyes glossed over with something that he couldn’t pinpoint. The younger boy nodded anyway, as if telling Ollie to continue.

“I had a half brother who used to race in Formula 1 a while back. I won’t say his name, because maybe you’ll know who I’m talking about, maybe you won’t. I don’t know. I forget the exact year myself, but I can remember what happened.”

It was becoming painful to retell, but he pushed on. “It was in Hungary. My family had taken me, at around 8 or 9 years old—whatever age I was—to go and watch him, because it was the cheapest thing possible at the time. We were only able to afford general admission tickets anyway. Not like it mattered.”

“All I remember is the race starting and being so excited, but then around 10 laps in, I hear this big bang from the other side of the race track.” Ollie tried to remain stoic, but you could tell that tears were threatening to make their way out. “We didn’t have any way of seeing who it was, because of where we were, but once we got word…”

Ollie looked down at the table slightly. Kimi didn’t meet his eyes, but sat there staring at him as if the wrong word would break him like a piece of glass. He looked up after, red rims around his eyes. “Sorry, I don’t usually get this sensitive over it. Maybe because it happened recently— I— can you pass me a napkin, please?”

The action was followed up soon after, Ollie thanking him silently with a smile. “He didn’t die immediately.” the older boy suddenly continued. “Lived for about 2 years before the injuries that he did have finally weighed too much. I think there was something about the car being on fire.”

Ollie looked off to the side slightly. “I know I could’ve looked it up on social media, but I just choose to forget about it. When I was there, though, it brought back all those memories. It was raining.” He looked at Kimi straight, tears welling up more than they were.

“All those years, I promised him when he could still talk, that I’d be a Formula 1 fan. A Ferrari fan, even though he didn’t know that. It was secretly his favourite team.” He wiped his eyes with the napkin again. “Then when you came along it was like, I had a connection?” His voice pitched up slightly.

It affected him slightly to be vulnerable in front of someone that was a celebrity, and that he’d only met a week ago at that. “I just didn’t want anything to happen. I thought I was able to put it off, but when I was up there and I could see some of the track from where it wasn’t blocked, I…” he trailed off slightly.

A wet laugh wrecked its way out of his vocal cords. “I’m sorry for putting this all on you, Kim. Truly.”

Kimi’s expression sweetened even more, if humanely possible, latching onto Ollie’s hand which was laying in the middle of the table. He didn’t dare to hold it, just caressed it, careful as if he didn’t want to knock the food over. Careful as he always was.

“You don’t have to apologise for anything. It doesn’t change anything about you, and I’m glad you told me.” Kimi said it straight, but with a tone like he was speaking to a child. At this moment, maybe Ollie didn’t mind that.

“Have I killed the mood?” Ollie’s honest thoughts came out, voice quivering a tiny amount.

Kimi shook his head rapidly. “Non, orsetto.” He probably said it like any normal no, but the way his accent lilted made it sound French. “You are strong for sharing this with me, and it won’t make me act any different either. I don’t have anything remotely traumatic to share about racing, but me and my parents have had some issues…sometimes.”

Ollie didn’t push, just like Kimi didn’t pull away. There was a comfortable silence now, Ollie’s vision being full of Kimi. He was rubbing circles on Ollie’s free hand, his jacket still on, hanging from his shoulder on one side.

The gaze that Kimi had seemed to be painted with something that Ollie didn’t want to make wishes on shooting stars about. There were sparkles in his eyes—faint, orange sparkles—clouding his vision like the lighting inside the restaurant.

There was a sheen of light just behind him that made him appear as if he had this warm aura, and to Ollie, it was true. The feather-like touches, his lips curving upwards as he watched Ollie’s own facial expression soften slightly, something that had just been done out of instinct.

“You know I’ll be here for you, right?” Kimi broke the silence all of a sudden. “We haven’t known each other that long, but…you’re my first friend that hasn’t judged me for—well, my status, let’s say. Italians can get a little mooch-like.”

Ollie was tempted to reach over the table and tuck the stray curl in front of Kimi’s ear behind him, just like he did when he saw him for the first time. “You mean it?” It came out like a beg for a promise, as if it was written in invisible ink. Not fragile, but like there was the possibility of forgetfulness.

“It sounds like you want me to promise.” Kimi analysed. “Do you?” His tone was laced with something of fondness, and Ollie found his head nodding forward like he was under a trance.

Kimi smiled then, eyes crinkling up as he placed his hand just on top of Ollie’s, the erratic movements halting. That’s when the thought came to life.

Kimi is beautiful.

Kimi was beautiful, perhaps, when he’d met him for the first time, slightly flushed from the heat of the building. When he’d winked at him at Silverstone. When he’d stared into his hazel eyes in the photobooth.

The touch around his waist, the way his voice will change based on the mood. Ollie was starting to notice it all now, as if it hadn’t been plastered on a sign in front of him this entire time.

He didn’t think he was oblivious like that, because he definitely didn’t have feelings for Kimi. Part of his brain in that moment blamed it on the fact that Kimi had brought up his ex, showing all the traits that she would. Naturally, Ollie was attracted to that, wasn’t he?

Kimi’s hair was slightly longer than a boy’s hair should be. He was shorter, as if Ollie could use him as an armrest. He was always paying attention to Ollie and looking after him—even now, as they sat in his aunt’s restaurant.

He’d never felt this deeply for one of his friends before. Like he needed to protect Kimi.

Yes. That was it.

Lately, however, Kimi had been doing most of the protecting.

“Can I ask?” Kimi tethered through the lines of silence once again. “Did you ever…want to go racing?” It was said pointedly, but there was more of that tone that Kimi used still seeping through. Ollie imagined it slipping through his fingers like honey, too sweet to resist but too much to handle.

Ollie smiled slightly. Were the nicer memories better? “I used to go karting. Dad put me in when I was 6, and I go back sometimes with him. It wasn’t as bad as the high speed racing. There’s a race track near me that I go to quite regularly, just for some time to kill.” Ollie noted. “Surprisingly enough, I sometimes go when I’m having a bad day.”

Kimi only smiled and offered nothing more. Not that he had the time to, because their food arrived soon after, Ollie realising when Kimi’s hand had slipped away from his—

“Zia!” Kimi screeched, but quiet enough for it to be contained from the other guests. Ollie looked up to see a woman with dirty blonde hair come up to their table, holding two plates. There were a couple of wrinkles on her face, but she had a smile that was immovable from her face.

“Mio nipote…” she coaxed, setting the food down in front of the two boys (which she got right), only for Kimi to stand up and hug her straight after. There was something said in Italian while they were in the hug—and Ollie couldn’t help but feel a little awkward, but it was natural for him not to interrupt a family reunion.

There was a little more conversation before Kimi sat down, gesturing to Ollie. “Zia, this is Ollie. We met not too long ago and he came to Silverstone last week to support me.” So his aunt did speak English.

Turning to Ollie, the same beam on her face. “Thank you for looking after my Kimi, sweet boy. Seriously, how must I repay you, he was always in trouble back in Bologna.”

Kimi seethed slightly, muttering something in Italian to which his aunt laughed at. “No, seriously, I should be thanking Kimi. He’s been so kind to me ever since I met him—he’s even started to go all protective on me.”

The Italian’s aunt made a sound at that, something of disbelief and affection mixed in one. Kimi’s cheeks turned slightly pink—a colour which Ollie thought looked great on the other—before she spoke again. “I thought I’d never see the day, Kimi finding someone to se—”

“See the world with! Exactly, you’re so right.” Kimi laughed loudly, moving his leg across slightly to the left. His aunt straightened her back suddenly, Kimi speaking rapid Italian all of a sudden. His aunt responded with the same, shaking her hands frantically.

She smiled all of a sudden. “I’ll leave you two to it. Kimi, come find me after, tell Lorenzo that I’ll let you in the kitchen.” Then she scurried away, off to do whatever duties that she had to do.

“Briefer than I expected,” Ollie commented. “she seems amazing, though.”

Kimi rubbed the back of his neck, sheepishly, all while motioning for Ollie to start eating. “She can be a handful, but she means well. If I can’t see her by the end of tonight, I’ll probably end up having a video call until the end of time because that woman does not sleep like she should.

They both laughed about it, but it went quiet when they actually came to eat the food. It was slightly messy for Ollie, but the flavours were divine—much more authentic than you’d expect at a regular pizza place in the UK. Kimi’s looked delectable, too.

So much so that Kimi had spoon fed him some of the pasta he had. It was slightly cheesy with a base of tomato, and Ollie thinks that he could taste the fresh herbs and a faint heat at the back of his mouth. Nodding in approval, he smiled as Kimi slid the spoon out of his mouth.

Kimi muttered something once again, but Ollie couldn’t catch it. He noticed that Kimi had thrown his head back slightly, neck facing the light that was behind them.

He almost choked on his pizza. Not sure why.

They did end up talking slightly before the end of their meal—as if to stretch out time—not like it was running away from them. It was clear that when they reached the points where their plates were clean, however, that neither of them wanted to move for the foreseeable.

Kimi rested his head against the part of the table which was empty. “I should’ve taken a photo…”

“Of the food?”

“And you, silly.” Kimi uttered like it was the most simple thing ever. “Who else am I going to create memories with?” Ollie’s heart jumped in his chest.

Kimi raised his head as Ollie was slightly dazed. “Right. Of course.”

Their plates were taken soon after, both of them having a lot more space to let their food digest. Ollie swears that Kimi rubbed his foot against his own once, but chooses to ignore it for his own sanity.

“I’m gonna head to the bathroom,” Ollie decided. “will you be alright here?”

Kimi nodded. “I might go and find my aunt and somewhere to pay, if she’ll let me. Actually, I think she will. It’ll be okay.”

Ollie spluttered. “Can I not pay? Please?” Kimi silenced him by leaving the table.

That was that, he assumed. As he trudged off to the toilet, getting slightly lost before he could even find it, he thought back to how Kimi’s front teeth had seemed like fangs when he got up to smile in the brighter ambience.

જ⁀➴

They didn’t end up leaving the restaurant until an hour later, Kimi’s aunt coming over to them and chatting for around 10 minutes. Ollie had learned that she’d moved to Wembley from where she used to live in Bologna because she’d wanted a change, to do something in her life that meant something.

She’d used to own a restaurant back in Bologna, but there was too much competition for her to prove why she was better than her competitors, who just so happened to be there before her. There was much better reception in Camden—even with her being situated a tiny bit away from Camden Market. It was a staple of the area, you could say.

Kimi had also shrivelled up when his aunt had started telling tales of him as a young kid. There were nicer ones such as the first time Kimi had gone karting, even showing Ollie a photo of when Kimi used to be blonde. Which Ollie wouldn’t mind so much if he recreated, but the brown held a special place in his heart, too.

Was that normal to think?

There were the meaner ones, too. Like how Kimi had once splattered ketchup all over his face because he thought that the top was sealed, or the moment when he confidently went outside for an entire day with his shirt inside out.

“My mother didn’t even bother to tell me! Did you want to use it against me for blackmail or something, eh?” Kimi talked outrageously. The other two laughed.

“We took a photo and we bring it out every Christmas to remind all our guests. Yes, I do go back home for Christmas.’ his aunt commented, as if it was something Ollie was itching to know.

They left a little after she’d gone away, although she couldn’t stay for long. Part of their long wait was the fact that Ollie wanted to update his mum before he left, and he’d ended up waiting for Kimi to come out of the kitchen. At least, that’s where he presumes Kimi went.

They were now walking outside—sun setting, but not fully. It was quite a stark contrast to the dark feel of the restaurant, a slight chill to the air instead. It made Kimi do up his jacket, and Ollie silently cursed himself because beauty was indeed pain.

“Have I convinced you not to go back to shitty pizza places now?” Kimi challenged. Ollie looked at him with a smirk.

“Well, I can’t help myself if a Domino’s is well and truly calling my name if I’m feeling particularly lazy,” Ollie started, which made Kimi slump in disappointment “but I’ll become even more of an advocate for your aunt’s business. Don’t worry.”

Kimi didn’t seem to actually care all that much, but he did smile up at Ollie, which made the latter feel infinitely better.

“Which way do you have to go back?” Ollie pondered, as they were nowhere near where they began the day anymore. They were headed in the direction of the tube station either way, so he guessed it wouldn’t turn out in the sense that Kimi got stranded.

Luckily, his response came briskly. “I’ve just gotta head up to near Tottenham, but I think my driver will pick me up from the nearest tube station, at least. He said to get the direct one from Camden, so it’s only the one, right?”

Ollie nodded. “The Northern line. He probably wants you to go to Seven Sisters.” Kimi nodded, as if making a mental note for himself. “You know how to pay, right?”

“Yeah. Zia showed me when I came here just before the season started, but that was when most of our family were around and we had to take care of my little sister too.” Kimi explained.

The breeze went through Ollie’s hair in a gust, chilling him slightly more. As his steps hit the pavement, he could only begin to reminisce on what the day had been like. He wasn’t even home yet, but the presence of Kimi was already fading, as much as he didn’t want it to.

They’d be going opposite ways when they got to the tube station, so when they paid, it wasn’t a heartfelt goodbye like Ollie had expected. He’d made sure that Kimi went in front of him on the escalator, spotting that their stations were in different directions.

Camden Town station was a lot less crowded than usual, but Ollie definitely didn’t want to take up too much space.

Kimi thought differently though. “Hug?” he proposed. Ollie couldn’t find the words of denial he’d originally had planned, so when Kimi’s arms had wrapped around him—slightly higher than his waist—for a second time that day, he couldn’t find himself in shock again.

Hugging back, he felt Kimi’s nose go flat against the crook of his shoulder. “Thank you for today, Ol.” The words came out quietly, but anyone would be stupid not to identify the sentiment within them. “Not saying we can do this often…but it’s nice to get away.”

Ollie released them both from the grip, just patting Kimi on the shoulder. “You’ll just have to deal with me digitally, alright?”

Kimi giggled. “Whatever. Let’s stop taking up so much space.” As he was about to go, he turned on his heel instinctively. “Text me when you get back?”

“You sound like my mother.” Ollie deadpanned.

Kimi shrugged. “How else am I meant to know?” There was hardly any argument after that, so Ollie just gave in.

“Will do, Kim.” he chimed. “See you…” he was going to say ‘see you soon!’, but both of them knew it wouldn’t be soon.

Kimi smiled softly. “Just don’t be a stranger.” With that, he left as the crowds began to pick up, Ollie being unable to pick up the back of his curly head. It brought him back into his own headspace, in a sense, finding his own headphones and putting them on.

As he sat on the train, knowing about the inevitable changes he’d have to make, his mind was still slightly dazed.

He didn’t want to pinch himself like last time, because the feeling had definitely settled in. What feelings, was the first thought that came into his brain, but it was punched away when the sound of the Northern line interrupted his thoughts.

He’d called Kimi gorgeous in his mind. He didn’t like Kimi romantically. Those two truths could exist in the same conscience.

Spinning. His frontal lobe had probably stopped development. Like a plot twist he’d yearned for, but didn’t expect to crash on him all at once.

Vaguely, however, he’d registered that Kimi’s music taste might’ve been slightly better than his own in places.

Chapter Text

As much as Ollie would’ve liked to say his summer break was still remotely interesting, that was probably where it ended. Kimi himself was on a break, however he was flying to a place in the world that the older boy had probably forgotten all about.

It happened all the time, so he never even bothered to keep up with the timezones anymore. Ollie would just message and see if Kimi would respond, or just wait for the other to message first. It wasn’t foolproof, but it worked in some respects.

While their texts were exchanged for as much as possible when they were free, he didn’t actually get a chance to hear Kimi’s voice outside of random videos he would send until when they were officially on summer break, so to say.

Kimi had unfortunately been given a penalty in Belgium which led him to being outside of the top 10, however, he’d managed to get back into that top 10 by the time Hungary rolled around.

The call didn’t come immediately, however. Ollie had been stalking—well—keeping an eye on Kimi’s stories, and he seemed to be enjoying the summer break with his other friends. It all looked far out of Ollie’s tax bracket, even though his family weren’t exactly poor either.

It started out as a string of conversation, as it usually did between the two. Ollie was absentmindedly scrolling through whatever he could find when the notification appeared at the top of his screen.

Hey you

to what do i owe the pleasure???

>:(
God forbid I spend a little time away from you
You’re like a puppy with separation anxiety

that could be argued for you as well

Whatever now is not the time, mate
I’m bored
Video call?

oh fr
sure
call me when ur ready

Cazzo
I’ll be like 10 minutes
I have an urgent duty to attend

He found the last iteration of Kimi’s words particularly funny, using whatever eloquent language he could, but his mind slowly settled in on the fact that Kimi had asked him to video call. Which meant that his face would be plastered on Kimi’s phone screen.

The thought would be enough to freak anyone out, so Ollie made quick work of freshening himself up from where his hair was starting to stick up at the back. He was still pretty fresh considering it was a late Thursday night, but impressions mattered, right?

After all, the last time Ollie had seen Kimi was the time when he actually put a decent bit of effort into his outfit. Those expectations would be shattered when Ollie eventually picked up the call, Kimi already nagging him via text messages to add some colours to his wardrobe.

He changed the colour of his lights before settling down, opening the camera app so that he could check that his face was still visible within his camera, even with the slightly grainy quality and dim light.

He didn’t have to wait too long until he saw the video request at the top of his screen. It wasn’t like those apps which show you the camera before you pick up, so Ollie didn’t know what to expect.

When he did eventually pick up, it seemed like Kimi was in the same position as him—lights slightly dim while laying on his bed. Or in his bed? Ollie couldn’t tell.

His eyes were still reflective over the pixels in Ollie’s screen, and the only visible item of clothing was a black tank top. The younger boy’s face lit up slightly when he’d finally answered the call.

“I thought you’d never pick up.” Kimi teased, tone light as if they’d been conversing via phone call every single day. While Kimi’s voice was nice to hear when he watched the races, there was something about the unfiltered view of the Italian that he got, almost as if it was private viewing.

Well, it was, but his brain was much too hazy for any definitions right now.

Ollie smiled slightly, the action resembling something close to muscle memory. “I didn’t let it ring for that long, surely.” The statement came out more like a question when he’d finally pieced it all together, and the smile that stayed attached to Kimi’s face could mean many different things.

“You’re right. I’m at home at the moment, because surprisingly, I have nothing else to do.”

“So I’m your only option when you have nothing to do? I see how it is.” Ollie wept away a fake tear.

Kimi carried on speaking. “I mean, if the shoe fits…” to which Ollie’s face morphed into one of disgust. The other giggled then. “I’m joking. I still made time to message you even when I was on a yacht in the middle of the sea, so be thankful.”

Ollie thinks back to the photos he’d seen while Kimi was on…holiday? Should he even call it that?

He was almost tempted to reply from his own account, thinking that Kimi wouldn’t see it—but there was the chance that he did.

Then again, Kimi literally had his phone number. It required too much abstract knowledge for the morning it was posted, anyway, so he left a like as usual.

“The bare minimum,” Ollie chided, resuming the conversation. “but sure. I’ll take my Kimi crumbs and eat them as I go. Besides, it’s not like I’ve been doing anything interesting either.”

Kimi’s nose scrunched. A habit of his. “Don’t you have friends from…university? That you can see?”

Ollie shrugged slightly. “I could see Dino if I wanted to, but he’s on holiday in Sweden visiting his family. My other friend lives all the way on the other side of Wales, and I’m not willing to make that journey anytime soon.”

“You have quite a small friend circle, no?” Kimi commented.

“Well,” Ollie began, brushing a piece of hair from where it’d fallen into his face. “I’m sociable, but they’re like my closer friends. The ones I bonded with over Formula 1, actually.”

Kimi nodded, taking in the information. It would be times like these, perhaps the most unexpected, that Ollie would share tiny little anecdotes about his life with Kimi.

Sometimes, he’d find reciprocation, but there was only so much Kimi could say. Ollie prayed every night that he wouldn’t turn on his TV and see Kimi media trained as if he were a robot.

“Speaking of,” the sudden thought bringing a topic into Ollie’s brain. “you really need to stop revealing your team’s strategy.”

Kimi spluttered. “How was I meant to know? Everyone’s going to find out eventually…” Kimi found himself going into a rant about how tyres wouldn’t even matter due to the degradation, about how George was essentially worse than him at points if specific people pissed him off, the whole shebang.

Ollie just resorted to watching. Watching as how Kimi would sometimes use one hand to explain a topic, about how his eyes would widen when something important appeared in his timeline that he’d forgotten to mention. How the curls on his hair would fly around, particularly when he got passionate about something.

It was like a really bad soap opera. Then again, it was Kimi, and he seemed to be the protagonist of Ollie’s trademark boring life. A little bit of spice into what would usually be bland.

“—so, in the end, what was I really meant to do?” Kimi’s face looked the tiniest bit distraught, and it elicited a slight chuckle from the British boy.

Face scrunching up slightly, “They won’t remember it in 5 years. I’m pretty sure it doesn’t matter, Kim.” Ollie responded with the most genuine tone he could muster. It seemed to work on Kimi, the other relaxing into the headboard behind him.

Their conversation went a bit off the rails after that. Ollie didn’t usually find himself talking about how he preferred green grapes over red grapes, or about how he believes that the type of content that he has to subject himself to over the summer break is borderline concerning.

It all just happened to fall out with Kimi. Whether he was actively engaging or just sitting back, always the glimpse of a smile painted onto his lips, Ollie found himself blabbering out more topics than he could ever imagine.

Not like he would call himself an introvert, but he truly just doesn’t believe that he manages to talk to the same person about a bunch of different things for such a long time.

Part of him wants to believe it’s still because himself and Kimi haven’t known each other that long—but everything just seems natural. It’s like what he would talk about with Dino, but everything had an extra layer.

An extra layer of…interest, perhaps? A silver lining? The way Kimi held onto his each and every word like it was gospel, about how Ollie let himself get drowned in the many tones rolling from Kimi’s tongue.

Even the slight phrases in Italian which would jump out before Kimi could translate it in his head, Ollie would find himself nodding along to. Like he knew the words himself, fluent in that language. Kimi’s own language, but that could be taken two ways.

“Hey,” Kimi’s voice came, cutting through the silence that barely lasted. His voice was piqued as if he wanted to make a point. “when do you actually go back to school?”

Hearing it as school was a little word, but he knew what Kimi was talking about. “It’s near the end of September. I think I have to get ready to move in to my new house by the 17th? I’ll probably be completely M.I.A from then.” Ollie replied.

Kimi nodded. “Wait here. I have something that I want to show you.” Then Ollie received a lovely view of Kimi’s ceiling, as his phone dropped to the padded surface of the bed as the British boy heard a door slightly creak open. He thinks he hears feet hammering down the stairs too, but he can’t exactly pinpoint that.

There’s not much that can be told by the ceiling on what type of house Kimi lives in—but the ceilings look ridiculously high, so Ollie just decides to shut his curtains while Kimi was gone.

Truth be told, he didn’t even realise that it’d gotten that dark that quickly, but thank god he was of an age where his mother didn’t see the impending need to come into his room in the night and complain about everything on this planet.

Checking the time, Ollie decided to put his headphones in as he knew that she’d have work early in the morning. He clambered back onto the bed, noticing that Kimi still hadn’t come back.

There was a little bit of a wait, Ollie taking time to inspect the stars that had been put on his ceiling when he was a child that had slightly faded away over time, before he definitely hears somebody coming up the stairs.

His suspicions are confirmed when Kimi’s face graces his screen again. “What is it you wanted to show me?” Ollie protrudes, curiosity at an all time high.

Kimi’s breathing was slightly faster. “Okay, so, before I show you. If you don’t want this, then it’s fine, I’ll just give it to someone else. I just thought it was better to ask early.” What on earth was he talking about?

Nonetheless, Ollie still nodded. “Hit me.” What did show up, apparent by the shock on his face, was still out of his wildest dreams.

Kimi brought his camera down slightly, lifting his hand up to show a paddock pass.

It still hadn’t settled in, which is why Kimi’s laughter made him shake his head slightly. It was as if he was going dizzy.

“It’s for Monza at the start of September. I didn’t know if you were busy, but I wanted to make sure you were okay to come…I can pay for the flights and everything too!” Kimi blabbered. There was probably a lot more he wanted to say, but he finished eventually. “I would just…really like you to come and support me again.”

The finishing sentence came out slightly bashful, and Ollie could swear that he saw a faint dusting of colour on Kimi’s cheeks. Whether fortunately or unfortunately for him, his mind was still zeroed in on the paddock pass that laid around Kimi’s neck, attached with a lanyard that was recognisable to all.

A wide smile made its way onto his face finally, accompanied with a breath of exasperation. “Well, I’ll have to talk with my parents because technically I’m still at home,” Ollie reminded the other, “but of course I want to be there! You’re insane, you know that?”

Kimi rubbed the back of his neck. “Well…non lo so, I try…” Ollie could see that the tips of his ears were slightly red, and he wondered just how hot it was in Italy.

“Thank you. Seriously. You’ll hear more thank you wishes in the next week from me than you will ever.”

“So it’s better than Silverstone?” Kimi questioned. His face looked slightly hopeful—and something churned in Ollie’s stomach—it was Kimi’s home country after all.

He shrugged, as if the aforementioned gift wasn’t a big deal. “Perhaps. You’ll have to sell it to me.”

It was a big deal.

For the current timeline, though, they hung up around 30 minutes later after Kimi had strung himself into a conversation about how he’d heard that Charles Leclerc and Max Verstappen were together at some point in the first week of the summer break.

જ⁀➴

There were obviously much more entertaining periods over Kimi’s summer break than Ollie’s, however that doesn’t mean that he didn’t enjoy his summer break, as such.

Days were filled with sun, and the inevitable rain on one day. There were clouds, too, but he liked to focus on the sunnier variants. He’d made trips up to London spontaneously, spent time with his family and almost accidentally set his own kitchen on fire.

His mother learned never to trust him in the kitchen on his own again, even at the adulting age. “I knew there was something wrong with you the moment you mistook salt for sugar when you were 7.”

Funnily enough, Ollie can’t remember that, but maybe he chooses to block the more traumatic memories from his childhood in a jail at the back of his brain. Not that it would be traumatic to him now, but 7 year old Ollie may have disagreed.

Thomas found himself going back to school early in September, and while this didn’t apply to Ollie, he wasn’t exactly being a homebody for the weekend.

His parents had agreed to the trip to Italy, Kimi being able to confirm that he’d pay for the flights and even provide Ollie with a hotel. It felt like a bit much, but then Ollie saw the prices that Kimi was paying and promptly shut up.

“Are you sure?” Ollie’s voice had come over the phone one that, obvious that sleep laced his tone.

Kimi seemed to make a tutting sound in response. “You know that I’d do anything for you to be here.”

That thought was somewhere ahead of the one of him baking salty cookies at 7 years old, but nonetheless, he was going by himself. He’d never been abroad before on his own—but he seemed to have people waiting at his beck and call, according to Kimi.

Of course, it would be remotely impossible for Ollie to see Kimi throughout the weekend. “That’s why I requested that they booked our hotel rooms right next to each other! Well, I forced George to go to the hotel where the Williams team were. Not like he minded, though.”

Ollie hadn’t seen Kimi after a race. A couple of days after, sure. He could only hope it went well for the younger boy, as he presumes that anybody would get upset with a placement worse than they were expecting.

In the moment, however, he could only remain optimistic. His plane had just called for boarding, and while he wasn’t living lavish, it didn’t exactly bother him. As long as he got from point A to point B, which was arguably where he’d make some of the best memories of his life.

Perhaps that sounded a little naïve, but he didn’t exactly remember it when the plane took to the skies around 30 minutes later.

Arriving in Italy, he noticed that it was a hotter climate than where he’d come from, in slightly cloudier England. It was to be expected, but the heat wasn’t scorching either, it was just…nice.

His data had picked up the moment he landed, 3 messages from Kimi showing at the top of his screen.

Hi
There’s someone waiting for you called Lorenzo
He has a sign, please come quick!!! :D

The airport wasn’t too crazy to navigate. Ollie had used the basic Italian that he’d picked up (whether from actually making an attempt to learn it, or from the off-handed phrases that Kimi would use) when possible, meeting up with the chauffeur that Kimi had arranged.

It was still pretty early in the day as far as Ollie liked to consider it. It was 3pm on a Friday, which meant that Kimi would be in free practice until around 6pm, so he was going to check into his hotel and find something to eat, maybe.

There was also a mental note in the back of his mind to promptly avoid any and all tourist scams. He likes to think that he’s decent at identifying them.

The chauffeur ride wasn’t very long, and there wasn’t much conversation either. There was enough English between the two of them to acknowledge each other, with Ollie muttering a quick grazie as he left the car.

To put it one way, the hotel that Kimi was staying at seemed…expensive. Once again, much out of his tax bracket, but it’s not like he could go home and stay in Bologna. His room was on a pretty high-up floor, and he was told that he could request room service free of charge as part of the booking.

Perhaps he was living lavish now, and he was definitely going to make use of it.

When he walked in, the first would he used to describe the room inside his mind was spacious. It was only him staying in here, however he thinks with the space, there could be a party thrown for about 8-10 people in here. It was a lot for him to take in.

One thing that he really loved was that the shower was extremely spacious, as he would definitely be needing that to wake himself up in the morning. Not as if he needed to be up at 5am, but it was definitely something that he’d need to get used to.

Relaxing on the bed, he stared up at the ceiling. There was a light that seemed far too dramatic for a hotel room, but it wasn’t on due to the natural light that was entering the room.

He sat up slightly, the mini fridge that was just below a desk coming into view. He thinks he recalls the receptionist telling him that he could have anything and that it wouldn’t cost extra, so he took a look inside.

There was a selection of soft drinks, to which Ollie grabbed a Sprite and scrolled through his phone for a moment. His hunger had slightly subsided, and the bed was comfy, so he thought he’d take this time to catch up on the jet lag.

Somewhere between the sips of his drink, the noises coming from the muffled speakers of his phone, he found himself drifting away into dreamland.

There was a dip at the side of the bed which shook Ollie awake, even though he couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes just yet. He noticed that his head was supported by what he could only think to be a pillow.

He opened his eyes, and—

“Kimi?”

The other boy’s eyes widened slightly, before returning to their normal, relaxed state. “Jet lag that bad, Ol?” His eyes crinkled into something thinner, before jumping off the bed to place himself on the chair that was by the desk with the mini fridge.

After a few minutes of not responding, Ollie found himself sitting up too. “How the fuck did you even get in here?” That was the first question that came to mind, message unfiltered.

Kimi’s smile came easily, like it always did. “I just asked for an extra key. I got one for my room too, so you can have it if you really want it.” The tone of his voice was slightly offhanded, as if Ollie having a key to Kimi’s hotel room wasn’t a big deal.

“Sure.” Ollie’s reply came breathily, as if the answer he gave didn’t sound sure coming out of his own mouth. “What’s the time?”

Kimi checked his phone. “8pm. It’s almost reminiscent of the first time we called, right?” The memory came back freely to Ollie, although it wasn’t one that he was aiming to forget. He nodded absentmindedly.

“I presume you don’t fancy doing anything,” Kimi started. “unless you’re planning to get wasted in an Italian club on race weekend?”

The implication was making Ollie’s mind turn fuzzy, the thought of any alcohol with jet lag making him slightly sick. “I’m still jet lagged, Kim,” his thoughts were broadcast out loud. “you think I want to club at this time of night?”

Kimi held his hands up. “Point taken. Have you eaten?”

Ollie was going to reply, but then the grumble from his stomach did most of the work for him. Flushing out of embarrassment, Kimi laughed, bringing the menu that was perched just underneath the wide television over to him. “Pick what you want.”

Which is why, around half an hour later, Ollie found himself eating a sandwich on a king sized bed with Kimi Antonelli, who had taken the risk of eating saucy pasta (again?) on a fresh sheet. If he spilled any, Ollie would be majorly upset.

“Did you even get changed before you came here?” Ollie commented, noticing how Kimi’s hair was still sticking up every which way. He could still see the vague helmet marks from the practicing that Kimi had been doing today, so he thought his hair might’ve suffered the same fate.

Kimi shook his head. “This is what I took with me. I should really go over and get changed, but now I’m here, and I’m eating.” He took a mouthful of pasta into his mouth just after finishing, which Ollie didn’t know whether to find endearing or concerning.

“Just go get changed and come back.” Ollie suggested. “If you want to.” He added on, before also taking a bite of his own food. Kimi seemed to like the suggestion, giving a thumbs up to the idea. “How was free practice?”

Kimi shrugged. “The car is fine, I just need to put in some faster times. I just want to put in the best time possible for qualifying, but nothing’s wrong with the car. Some people are obviously just trying that little bit harder.”

He took a slurp of pasta again. “McLaren”, came a sound from Kimi with his mouth full. Ollie nudged him slightly—“Don’t speak with your mouth full!”—but agreed with the Italian nonetheless.

They chatted for a little while longer before Kimi said he was going to get changed, which left Ollie alone with his thoughts once again. There wasn’t too much to be thought, however.

He collected his and Kimi’s dishes, placing them on the table that was on the left side of the room. He thought now would be a good time to get changed, as he didn’t want to exactly laze around in his travelling clothes.

The bathroom was as spacious as anything, and he wouldn’t want Kimi to walk in on him now that he had a room key, so he resorted to that. The floor was a little cold—a given, really—but it didn’t affect him all that much.

By the time he’d walked out, shoes in hand, Kimi had already made himself at home. He didn’t even hear the door creak open, wondering if he’d tried to sneak in and surprise Ollie.

It hadn’t exactly worked, but Kimi was alerted of his presence anyway.

Ollie took in his appearance, and he looked—casual.

Casual in the way that his t-shirt was slightly oversized, his shorts down to his knees, riding up slightly whenever Kimi would bring his knees closer to his chest from where he was sat. His hair was still sticking up in places you wouldn’t expect.

His attire was similar to Ollie’s sure, but it felt authentic. Like he was getting to know the real Kimi, the Kimi that he’d only ever gotten to witness through screens and pixels.

“You look comfy.” Kimi commented, Ollie making his way around to the side of the bed that he was sat on. He felt his cheeks warm up slightly—he wasn’t embarrassed, right? Maybe he was.

“You do too.” Ollie returned the compliment as if it was natural, settling in next to Kimi. Neither of them were under the covers, just next to each other, as if the world outside wasn’t as real as it was.

Kimi sighed suddenly. “I’m sad I won’t be around to show you Italy tomorrow. Well, not my Italy, but still. My country is very dear to me, eh?” The emotions in his eyes and his smile didn’t exactly match, and Ollie just patted him on the back. Or—well—attempted to.

“It’s fine. I’ll have to come back here to have any chance at watching quali, but I’m sure you’ll do astonishingly anyways. Whoa, that was a big word.” Kimi chuckled at Ollie’s honesty, like it’d just come out of the depths of his throat.

It seriously wasn’t that funny.

Kimi turned to him then, “You’re the English speaker here, no? Do you not use big, fancy words?” Ollie shook his head.

“The English language is as much of a weapon as it is a tool to me. Trust me.” It elicited another slight laugh out of Kimi, before he shuffled closer to Ollie. “Do you want to do anything?” The question came out of Ollie on autopilot.

Kimi shrugged. “I’m not bothered. What do people usually do at 9pm on a Friday night if they have a Formula 1 driver with them?” His facial expression was slightly cloudy, as if the Italian couldn’t believe that he was saying that himself.

Ollie matched Kimi’s action. “We could watch a movie? I brought my laptop with me.” Ollie exclaimed, jumping away from the bed to grab his laptop anyway.

“You have your—” Kimi cut himself off. “What the hell, sure?”

They went to Netflix and spent some time trying to figure out what to watch—Ollie trying his best to not look at Kimi’s face when Drive to Survive was in his continue watching.

(“How many times has that been in there since you’ve gotten Netflix?”

“Um…I don’t know? Maybe about five times?”)

They ended up watching a movie neither of them had heard about before, the need for headphones being practically non existent. The laptop speakers were loud enough as the room provided somewhat of an ambience.

Around half an hour into the movie, Ollie would find that he focused more on Kimi’s reactions than the actual movie. He resents picking a movie that he didn’t know—because it was a romance.

Devil’s advocate, however, Kimi seemed to be eating it up. There was already multiple instances where shock was plastered on his face, disgust at the horrible use of pick up lines, laughter like the tone he’d used with Ollie just mere minutes ago.

All in all, maybe Ollie was eating that part of it up. This isn’t something he’d get with his friends—it felt different. Raw? Was that the right word?

So much so, that time ended up getting away from him, and he doesn’t realise whether he’s looking more at the movie or Kimi when the time hits 10:30 in the evening. He’s not struggling to stay awake, but he feels Kimi shuffle closer to him slightly.

He’s close enough so that Ollie can smell the cologne that he’d used this morning, but he’s a distance away so that they’re not—

Never mind. Scratch that. They were touching now. In a way—Ollie didn’t exactly mind?

In fact, he’s pretty sure that Kimi was asleep.

The other boy’s head was on his shoulder, his neck slightly strained as his curls were brushing the side of Ollie’s neck. He could just about hear the faint breaths that came from Kimi’s nose, steady and rhythmic, his senses awakened whenever Kimi would do as much as tilt his head towards Ollie.

That didn’t happen often, but even so, the weight on his shoulder reminded him of who he was actually there with. It had been around 5 minutes, and the way Kimi’s neck was positioned looked painful, so Ollie leaned back slightly onto the headboard, trying his best not to wake the younger boy.

There were moments when Kimi’s breaths would cut out, which would instil fear in Ollie due to the fact that Kimi would find that he’d fallen asleep on his shoulder—because it really wasn’t as big of a deal as it needed to be, right?

Kimi’s brain still had a mind of its own when he was on the verge of sleep, apparently, as his head found its way to the pillow. Something in the back of Ollie’s brain cooed that he missed the warmth of the other boy, but then he literally remembered that he was still right there.

It was a situation at best. Kimi was still on top of the covers, so Ollie made the move to get up and turn the air conditioning down a little. Although it was slightly humid outside, it would be cold if he wasn’t under the covers.

He decided to settle on sleeping on the covers himself, a way away from Kimi as even if his brain was intoxicated by sleep soon enough, he knew that both himself and Kimi would freak out if they woke up with their legs tangled together.

For now, he just faced Kimi as the other boy slept peacefully, knowing that sleep would soon take over him as well. Kimi’s hand instinctively found its way under one of the two pillows, sleeping so that he was curled up slightly.

Ollie could hardly believe that this was a guy that drove one of the fastest cars in the world—but everyone’s full of surprises, at the end of the day.

Little did he know how real that statement was about to get.

જ⁀➴

Fast forward to Sunday, and Ollie was into the hospitality area of Monza’s race track, where a member of the Mercedes team had been able to drop him off by Kimi’s valiant request.

He found himself not doing as much as he envisioned on Saturday, but still, getting a feel for the local area. In reality, his mind still tries its best not to relay back to the night where Kimi had still woken up dangerously close to Ollie, but had immediately scrambled away because he’d already had an alarm set on his phone.

It woke up Ollie by extension, but Kimi just bolted straight out of the door after apologising rapidly in a mix of Italian and English.

He couldn’t blame Kimi when he got a message from him merely an hour later, while Kimi was on his way to the track, but Ollie had fallen asleep and wouldn’t see that until he eventually woke up at 10am.

Speaking of Saturday, Kimi’s qualifying round had gone stellar. He was able to qualify in P4, outqualifying one of the McLarens and even one of the Ferraris. The only three cars ahead of him were Charles Leclerc, Max Verstappen and Oscar Piastri.

It’s safe to say he was fired up, based on the selfie that Ollie had received from him this morning. His tongue was poked out to the side in a manner that could only be described as mischievous, which made Ollie giggle slightly.

He’d reacted to the message with a heart, wishing him the best of luck, before he was whisked away as well.

If he’s being completely honest, he definitely enjoys the life of luxury, however he doesn’t see the need for it when he’s at something so grand as a Formula 1 race track already. He doesn’t know how many glasses of champagne or free Heineken he’s declined, only there to support his favourite drivers and to have a good view of the track.

Something in his mind tells him that Kimi would’ve scolded him for his outfit choice today, as he’d already received a couple of looks up and down from people that might not believe that Ollie has the status to be here. Little did they know.

The time was currently 2pm, and it was an hour until they began racing officially. Ollie had already seen all of the banners for Kimi, the home hero, and he felt his heart swell up with fondness for the boy. It was almost as resemblant as the Landostand from Silverstone, apart from the fact that all British F1 fans have some sort of mental illness.

He’d managed to catch sight of a TV which was showing live coverage of the race, even though he himself had a live view of the start and finish line, as well as the pit lane. In the same sense, it was almost like Silverstone, but just with a few extra steps like being on top of a balcony.

Ollie’s also pretty sure he can get down to track level if he really wanted, but he quite enjoyed the air conditioning that was being provided.

A familiar voice that he knew got his attention towards the screen. “—well, I’m really happy with where I qualified. It’s a lot different from last year, obviously, as I had that really bad spin in free practice.” Kimi commented.

Ollie knew this—Kimi telling him about it on their first week of being friends. It was part of the initiation stage of being Kimi’s fan, apparently, as if he needed Ollie to understand why he was the person that he is.

“You don’t think that’s going to haunt you in the race today?” the journalist questioned. Kimi shook his head with confidence.

“Given the times I was able to pull out on Saturday, I know I just have to retain my position and potentially even poke my nose into the podium, if anyone will allow me.” Kimi chuckled slightly. “I think it’s better to talk about these things freely, as it was in the past now.”

The journalist nodded, the answer coming off as very professional. “Is your family here today?”

Kimi’s eyes widened at the mention. “I have my family here, yes, so its really nice to have their support. I also treasure all the fans that came out all the way here to see me, I even heard that there was someone from Britain to see me, so I have to put on a good performance.”

Kimi turned to the cameras dead on and smiled straight into them, and Ollie looked around as if there would be someone watching him.

Well, not him specifically, but there were still eyes on the TV. If Ollie’s predictions were correct, Kimi was indirectly talking about him, and he didn’t know how to feel about getting what seemed like a mention from Kimi on a screen that was being watched by millions.

He’s not sure if his heart skipped a beat. Maybe it was the anticipation.

The screen resumed to other interviews from drivers that the reporters had managed to get, along with teams preparing to actually head out onto the grid. He’d catch glimpses of Charles and smile, glimpses of Lewis and wish him the best.

Glimpses of the two McLaren drivers which he tried to be unbiased towards, because there was no ill intention towards them, but he’d love to see a different winner.

The Mercedes garage. Kimi. George Russell. Kimi. Random interviews on the pit lane. Kimi.

Kimi’s eyes when he’d put his helmet on. Kimi as he stood by the computers in the Mercedes garage, probably discussing strategy.

Ollie wanted to be so much closer to him—to wish him good luck and to be that lucky charm that Kimi has been searching for. Or so he hopes.

For now, he can only watch through a screen. Or a balcony, perhaps, as the revs of cars going onto the grid has his feet trundling towards the outside.

The cars were unmistakeable, the faint buzz of the television in the background where the commentators were reporting on where each driver had qualified in. Everyone seemed to be extremely happy as the race was bound to start.

Ollie’s eyes flitted down, and then up again, as the cars were on their formation lap.

The weather seemed to be on Kimi’s side, the same dry conditions as were in qualifying. He just prayed that the teams would make the right strategy calls (the bar was low, he was a Ferrari fan, after all) to give Kimi the best possible chance at securing another podium.

The formation lap was over as quick as it started, and before he knew it, the race was started and the cars were flying. There were overtakes in the middle but the top 5 positions remained the same, with Kimi sandwiched in between the two McLarens. George wasn’t far behind, him and Lewis fighting for P6.

There would be times between the race when Ollie would come in to watch the commentary, and then go back outside to see his favourite drivers crossing the finish line, or if somebody was particularly close to overtaking. Nothing drastic had happened in the race, but there was an intense battle for first from Leclerc and Verstappen.

Oscar seemed to be holding his position pretty well, and so did Kimi—until around lap 15, when the rocket ship that was the McLaren of Lando Norris was creeping up on him.

Kimi was doing great defence, however, as Lando was only just in DRS range. There was still enough of a gap between them, but it was a battle.

A battle that lasted for around 5 laps, into lap 20. Both cars were on the medium tyre, so there was no need for them to pit. Their constant battle had meant that the podium had practically managed to fly ahead of them, so Mercedes were probably thinking about what to do with their highest placed driver.

Lando himself was also sandwiched in between two of the same car after George had managed to fend off Lewis for a long time, with Ferrari eventually bringing him into the pits.

Ollie’s mind, forcibly perhaps, went back to the battle between Kimi and Lando. He headed inside to check the TV, as the commentary would probably provide him with a better scope as to what was going on. Charles had crossed the finish line, Max on his tail.

Funnily enough, when he came back onto the screen, the battle between Kimi and Lando was being shown. However, Norris had managed to narrow down the gap between him and the Italian driver so that it was getting a lot harder for Kimi to defend.

Both of the car’s tyres were surely losing grip by now, but it was still obvious that Lando had the pace. Kimi had managed to defend him on some nasty overtaking places, being able to predict what he was going to do, but the line was thin.

So much so, that in the second DRS zone of the circuit, Antonelli and Norris were both wheel to wheel, all the way until the end of the straight where they went into turn 8. The McLaren on the outside for now, the Mercedes on the inside.

Much to Ollie’s horror, Lando had managed to overtake Kimi by the time they made it into the first turn, but it was what happened at the second that nobody could predict.

As Kimi was aiming to get his position back as he had the inside line, Lando had cut across his front left wing, making contact with his front left tyre in succession.

Next thing everyone knew, Kimi Antonelli had been sent into the barrier while Norris got away with what seemed like a mere scratch on his car.

It wasn’t a hard hit, but it was one that had the entire arena standing up in shock. He vaguely registers some shocked Italian voices shouting what he could only describe as curses—Cazzo being the one that he heard the most.

There was a slight ringing in his ears, however. His friend, Formula 1 driver, Kimi Antonelli. He’d crashed into the barriers for a second time at the race which started it all, so to say.

A response from Kimi’s radio came that he was okay, but the tone of his voice was completely frustrated, and Ollie is surprised himself that Kimi managed to keep it in.

It was agitated, but he heard Kimi let out a slow breath on the radio before jumping out of the car. There was a safety car deployed, so everybody had slowed down, which perhaps amplified the cheers of all of Kimi’s fans in the grandstand.

Taking his helmet off, he could see the slight smile on Kimi’s face, but based on what he’d heard—that was definitely not what the other boy was thinking.

Knowing Kimi, there probably would be some monologue in his head about how he could’ve done something to avoid that, when it wasn’t his fault at all. It shouldn’t be comparable to him whatsoever.

He’s whisked back to the pit lane as Ollie glances up to see that Lando had been penalised with a ten place grid penalty for what he’d done to Kimi. It still didn’t settle the weird feeling in his throat, however. The urge to be by Kimi’s side was stronger than it was before the race, and his mind didn’t know how to keep up with that.

His attention was no longer on the race, even though his favourite driver was out in front, but on how Kimi would recover—both physically and mentally. He ran to the bottom of the paddock pass area from where he could have said track view, watching as Kimi went into the Mercedes garage.

It was probably being shown on the screen, as well, but Ollie couldn’t bring himself to care. He sent Kimi a text, with the off chance that the Italian might see it, and breathed out slightly.

The Monza air felt surprisingly stuffier than this morning. Of course, that could be the weather, but it was suffocating—like the smell of the car engines did nothing to numb the pain.

He felt a buzz in his pocket around 5 minutes later. It was Kimi, telling him to go to the far side of the paddock pass area, where he could talk to a member of the Mercedes staff.

It was as if Kimi had requested for him once again—which he had gotten used to for a lot of the weekend—but he wasn’t sure what to do when the other might be in a vulnerable state such as this.

What Ollie wasn’t expecting to be true actually happened, the woman from Mercedes just smiling at him before leading him around the back of the paddock, to what could only be presumed as a back door into the Mercedes garage. He thanked her in Italian, unsure of what language to use, before spotting what could only be described as the driver’s rooms.

George’s door open, Kimi’s door closed.

Tentatively, he gave the door a knock. “It’s open.” came a dishevelled voice from inside, one that he would recognise anywhere. Opening the door slightly, what he saw wasn’t what he was expecting.

Kimi was sat with the back against the sofa—which looked uncomfortable—in the room, legs open with his hands clasped together in between them. It was then that Ollie realised the red around Kimi’s eyes.

He looked up when the door clicked shut. “Angry tears,” Kimi explained, but he seemed to be trying to reassure nobody but himself.

Where Kimi was perched was still slightly higher than his eyeline if he sat down, so he stood on one knee opposite Kimi as the other boy seemed to come crashing down into his arms.

Ollie was in the right mind to just about catch him with his right arm—the material of Kimi’s uniform rubbing against him as more tears came flowing out.

“Why?” he croaked. “Why does it have to be me?” It came out a little quieter, which shattered Ollie’s heart into pieces. In his rookie year when he was the youngest driver on the grid, driving for a top team. The British boy could only begin to wonder about the amount of pressure that was slammed onto him.

His hand found his way through Kimi’s hair, coaxing it softly as Ollie kept threading his fingers through, as if urging Kimi to keep talking.

He seemed hesitant, but the words spilled out eventually. “I know it wasn’t my fault, but I can’t stop thinking about what I— what I could’ve done differently. I wasn’t just going to let him take the place! It’s my home race, and I knew he had more pace than me, but he couldn’t get past me and the next moment I’m in the fucking barrier.”

The last word came out choked, and Ollie didn’t consider himself much of an empath, but the sobs that came wretched from Kimi’s throat were starting to affect him too.

It felt like he was coaxing a small child—but it wasn’t a small child. It was Kimi, someone who he knew as strong, resilient and has enough love to go around to everyone that he meets. To get run off the track that dirty deserved more than comforting words from Ollie.

However, that was all that Ollie could provide for now. He told Kimi about how proud he was for even making it to Formula 1, for making it so high in qualifying. For doing what he could during the race, not because he was ran off the track.

He attempted to make Kimi think of the good things. There were a couple of personal compliments that he’d thrown in too, like the ones he’d thought of in his mind earlier. The word beautiful might’ve slipped out, but in what context, Ollie can’t remember.

Kimi pulled back from his shoulder all of a sudden, leaving Ollie standing on one knee. His face was still downcast, but he looked up at Ollie with a hopeful look on his face.

“Sorry. Your shirt is probably all wet now.” Kimi apologised, and Ollie was almost tempted to bring him in again. Almost.

He chuckled, because what else could he do? “You know I don’t care, Kim. I care most about how you’re feeling at the moment, because I know you of anyone could fight through this.”

Kimi’s expression fell a tad. “You’ve only known me for such a short amount of time, yet you have so much trust in me. I’m struggling to understand it.”

Ollie moved a little closer. “It’s not every day a Formula 1 driver becomes someone you actually rely on for conversations and such, huh?” He ruffled Kimi’s hair slightly. It was a little cringe, but he let it slide. “I know what you’re capable of already, and you’ve shown it.”

The other boy sniffled. He seemed unsure as to what he was going to say next.

“You’re sure you mean all of this?” It came out like a whisper, like a question that Ollie wasn’t sure if he wanted to answer.

Nonetheless, he found himself nodding along, with the softest smile that he could manage to muster at that moment. It wasn’t a happy moment for either of them, but Ollie could only do his best to provide.

It was at that moment that he realised that Kimi’s face had gotten a lot closer to his, and Ollie felt his heart speed up as if it was going a million miles per hour. He could count the eyelashes on Kimi’s face, the way his lips were pouted—his lips were pouted?

It all happened in a flash. Kimi leaned in. Ollie—

Ollie swerved.

There was no disgust on his face, only shock. Kimi’s face had also reeled back, a mix of confusion—and that once sadness that had gone away, back in full force.

The words failed to come out of him. Kimi, too, but he eventually broke the silence. “Did I—misinterpret this?” His voice was fragile, as if to be dealt with care. Ollie didn’t know how to deal with things that were about to break.

His words came out breathlessly. “Kim—I like girls. I thought you knew?” Did Kimi know? Was Ollie reading between the wrong lines this entire time?

Kimi sunk down further onto the floor, an arm over his mouth now. His face—also in his arm—couldn’t be seen, but the noises could be heard. Kimi was sobbing, and Ollie’s plasters may have been temporary.

“Kimi, don’t cry, listen to me—”

He was cut off. Kimi’s face raised, and he was red all over. “Listen to you?” His tone held venom. “Tell me something, Ollie. Do you call the rest of your friends beautiful after they crash in a Formula 1 race? Do you pick up on their habits such as tucking stray pieces of hair behind their ears? Do you let them share a hotel room with you, in the same bed?”

Each question was like a gunshot to Ollie’s chest, and he wasn’t wearing the bulletproof vest to protect him from it. All of what Kimi was saying was true, but he still went out of a way to defend himself. As if he was being accused, not trialled.

“I don’t know, mate, you just came onto me! What was I supposed to do?” Ollie snapped back, voice raised much more than he would have wanted it to be. It was to get his point across, sure—

Wrong answer. Kimi laughed in disbelief, tears still spilling over his porcelain skin. “Came onto you? That’s what you’re getting from all of this?” The crying was no longer loud, just silent. The impact was still there.

Before Ollie could respond, Kimi retaliated with the honey in his voice long gone. “Do you know how hard it’s been for me to resist?” The question rang out.

“I’ve had to deal with the burden—I shouldn’t even have to say it like that—of being gay in the motorsport world. In Formula 1, in general. I hope you’re happy that you got it out of me.” Kimi scoffed, and Ollie tried to interrupt again, but he was cut off by Kimi’s sharp tone.

“Then you come along. In your stupid fucking Ferrari shirt, staring up at me with those eyes like I mean something. To think that you would be the one to show me—to help me realise what it feels like to be known, to be meant by someone.” Kimi gasped for air slightly, before resuming. “I’m not saying that I haven’t been, but you don’t know what goes on behind the scenes, but here you are. Behind the scenes, in my fucking driver room for god’s sake, and now I look like a loser—hell, perhaps even worse—because I came onto you.”

Kimi let his tears fall as he finished. “Doesn’t that sound right to you?” It was sweet, but not in the way which Ollie felt tingles. It was more like goosebumps, like something that he had done to hurt Kimi. Like he’d taken it too far, a train off the rails.

“Non avrei mai dovuto fidarmi di te, orsetto” It was a mumble, but Ollie heard the last word. He tried to come in and say something again, but then Kimi looked up at him. The words caught in his throat. “Got anything to say?” his voice cracked.

With Kimi’s suit pooling at his knees, looking up at Ollie with the most crestfallen expression that anyone could ever muster, realising that Ollie was still, stupidly, stood on one knee. In the position which Kimi was in his arms not even 5 minutes to go.

The words were still jumbled up in his throat. “I’m sorry, I—”

“I don’t need your apologies now. Please, cazzo, just go out the way you came. I don’t want you to see me breaking down.”

Part of Ollie’s subconscious was begging him to stay there—to explain why he’d done that, but there was no clear explanation. He just wanted to be with Kimi, to be there, to tell him everything would work out and to tuck him into bed late at night. To spend the rest of his inevitable time here with him.

As his feet stood up from the ground, the rational part of his brain told him that maybe he didn’t have that right anymore. Dejectedly, he closed the door behind him, softer than any of the words that Ollie murmured to Kimi.

Maybe they didn’t mean anything now.

જ⁀➴

He’d managed to get on a coach back to the main car park of the circuit, having no way forward from there. It was chilly, there were still people lingering, but Ollie knew that the drivers and most of the audience had already left.

Charles Leclerc had taken his first win, with the top position being exchanged a couple of times before Ferrari’s strategy and fast pit stops had actually seemed to work out for once. Lando had a problem with his car after crashing into Kimi, and ended up placing outside of the points.

That wasn’t what he could focus on though. He was far away from a hotel, with nowhere to go, his own tears on the verge of spilling this entire time. He liked to think he was pretty strong, but when you’re faced with someone you made such a close connection with in such a short space of time, it’s hard to identify that.

Time ticked on, and Ollie’s patience was wearing thin. He was considering trying to hitchhike with somebody else with hopes of getting back to the hotel, until his phone pinged.

I don’t want you sleeping outside

Underneath it was details of a taxi that Kimi had booked to come and collect Ollie from Monza circuit. The taxi had been directed to his exact location, and then it clicked for him.

He and Kimi still had each other’s locations.

His heart jumped in his chest, but he chose to ignore it in favour of responding to Kimi. Although, maybe he was treading the line there too.

thank you

It was blunt, but it got the point across. As Ollie’s phone was halfway charged, he didn’t see any point to not go on it, going on whatever app he could to distract himself from the race results, from anything.

Perhaps he’d message his family, telling them about the flight tomorrow. They’d ask about the race, but Ollie could do his best to avoid it.

Then came a notification from the Airbuds app. It reminded him of Kimi.

It was a music app, though. What could do any harm?

Unfortunately for him, Ollie chose to harm himself in ways that weren’t physical. He clicked on Kimi’s profile, which was an endearing baby photo of him with longer hair, before he was greeted with the other’s top 5 tracks of the week.

kimi 🦌 !!’s top 5 songs of the week:

1. Love Me Not, Ravyn Lenae
2. Seventeen, Troye Sivan
3. Pixel Affection, yeule
4. Nervous (In A Good Way), Mae Muller
5. LET LOVE GO (JEONGYEON, MOMO, SANA, TZUYU), TWICE

It was like a memento of him, but he noticed the top song. It was one that he’d been looping too— in fact, when he went to check his, it was 3rd in the list. Not for any specific reason, and not that he thinks that Kimi had any specific reason either.

In a way, they were still connected. Just not in the way that Ollie would like them to be.

His taxi arrived then, along with another notification from the boy that he wasn’t expecting.

I’d prefer it if you don’t speak to me for a while
I can’t bring myself to block you
Please, for me

It seemed like a goodbye. Was it meant to be a goodbye?

Ollie didn’t have any time to think about it, getting in the back seat of the taxi and watching the faint light of the circuit cascade out of his view.

His head was stuck in a horrible loop. Thoughts of Kimi, thoughts about how he could’ve done things better. What Kimi said to him, how he tried to patch it up but nothing he said, what he could’ve said, and it was all stuck.

In a horrible, disgusting loop.

It wasn’t until he made it back to the hotel room—his mind doing the ever so great job of providing the fact that he had a key to Kimi’s hotel room—until he thought about it. Hard.

“Did I—misinterpret this?” “burden…of being gay…”

He felt physically sick at the way that he’d treated Kimi. Alright, he hadn’t known that Kimi was interested in him, but he shouldn’t have reacted like that.

Especially not when he couldn’t keep his mind straight whenever he thought of Kimi recently. Whether good or bad. Not like Kimi himself could do anything bad, but his thoughts still dragged on.

The things Ollie had said, the same things Kimi had recalled. It wasn’t all a myth, was it? Ollie thought. He did say those things, he did pay attention to the habits that Kimi had.

He's called Kimi beautiful. It was still a fact.

The thought is too true that he thinks back to that night in his aunt’s restaurant. About how Kimi had been clouded by the dim orange light, warm and inviting.

How his eyes had sparkled, like the stars that Ollie had been meaning to follow this entire time.

Churning in his stomach is the only feeling he can describe. So he tries to make it churn for something else—he thinks back to his ex, about how if she was under that golden light, would it make it any different?

That was when it struck.

There were no sparkles in her eyes. Her hair was too dark to be reflecting off of the light, it was straight. It wasn’t curly, she didn’t ever find the need to tuck it behind her ears. She would never stare at Ollie like he meant something—like she knew all about him.

Yet, Kimi did. Apparently, he’d done the same to him. It all made sense.

He was in love with Kimi Antonelli.

So far, his track record was swerving a kiss, thinking every straight thought possible when he very clearly had something going on there, along with the fact that he’d left his newfound crush breaking down in his secluded room in the back of a Mercedes garage.

Way to go, Bearman.

Chapter Text

Ollie’s life had been in some sort of limbo between Monza and starting back at university.

He didn’t exactly plan to have a crisis (quarter-life? fifth-life?) in a far too expensive hotel room in the middle of Italy, so as much sleep as he did get, he tried to salvage what he could.

The messages were embarrassing to re-tell, but Ollie’s pretty sure that he begged Kimi to give them another chance. There was no spiel about it, but the intention was clear.

Unfortunately for him, Kimi’s answer had come as a blunt ‘I don’t want this to affect anything between us, Ollie. Don’t say shit that you don’t mean.’

Ollie didn’t exactly know how to prove his sincerity to Kimi, but it was clear that the other boy was trying to shut him out. With all the dumb moves he’d made, perhaps it was only right of him to give Kimi the space he deserved for once.

So he left Italy. Not because he wanted to, but because he had to—after all, he was planning to be moving into university around 3 weeks after the race in Monza, and so there wasn’t much time to dwell over it.

Like some sadistic personality, Ollie made time for him to dwell over it. It sounds pretty melancholic, but in the weeks where he wasn’t frantically trying to move himself out of his family home which he’d been living in for 3 months, he did a lot of thinking.

He wouldn’t call it reflective, he wouldn’t call it overthinking. It was just thinking. Wishful thinking seemed like the most accurate definition, because maybe Ollie realised sooner. Maybe he was a bit more bold, or perhaps a bit less bold.

The truth is, Ollie has never liked to give himself any sort of labels his entire life. He’d grown up in a community where being different got you shunned for absolutely nothing, so he’d always done his best to blend in.

His family had always strongly gone against the grain in their community, however, saying that Ollie could do whatever he wanted. He tried to pursue his dreams once, and it failed, so it was hard to gain sense of his parents’ merit when it hadn’t worked out for him.

Still, the life he was living was good. He had a good circle of friends, he was studying something that he was interested in, and he’d get a good job out of it in the future. That’s what people wanted in life, right? To be stable.

Yet the world stable couldn’t exactly apply to him right now. At times where he was usually focused, he found himself faltering. Faltering may have been an understatement, because even the people that he insulated himself with were picking up on it.

Most specifically, a Swedish boy. “You’ve looked really out of it for this entire week, and I know it’s not about something that would’ve happened at home because you would’ve told me.” Dino accused. His tone wasn’t pushy, but it was firm.

“Just homesick.” Ollie lamented, as if he wasn’t about an hour away from home as it was. The tube rang out— The next station is Camden Town. Way to remind him.

Dino didn’t buy his bullshit, either. He didn’t press, though, as the tube sped up back in the direction that they were going. Ollie looked at his shoes, sighed, and opened his phone.

There was no data, so he’d done what any normal person would do. Scroll through his camera roll.

It was a bad idea, however, because he’d see all of the automatically saved photos that had come from his and Kimi’s message threads. The selfies of Kimi with his tongue out, the random picture of a family dinner that he’d sent that one time. A picture of him posing next to his car, showing the Funko Pop that he’d got custom made for him.

He’d even captioned the photo with “My sister said she was going to buy one!!” and his happiness was so infectious over the screen, that Ollie couldn’t even try to bite back a smile. Both then and now.

Fast forward about 3 weeks later, and it’s the weekend of the Grand Prix in Azerbaijan. Ollie was trying his best to watch as diligently as possible, because he’d been moving into his new house for his second year of university.

What he couldn’t keep up with, he saw on social media. Saw how Kimi had gotten his fastest qualifying of the season, how his car was actually keeping up in the free practices.

So, what does Ollie do?

Nothing, actually. That is—until race day at least—when Ollie messages Kimi a short ‘good luck’ before the race. It’s an offhanded comment, he thinks Kimi won’t see it, especially since they’re so close to racing.

The response comes almost instantaneously. It’s just a simple ‘Thank you’. No emoji, no exclamation mark, no semblance of tone. Still, it was Kimi, and maybe that was the thought that kept Ollie going throughout the day.

Later, Kimi had taken his second podium of his Formula 1 career. Ollie resisted sending another text message, but he would’ve braved sending a message to Kimi via carrier pigeon if he could.

From then on, Ollie’s life became particularly swamped. He didn’t have time to think about the limbo that he was currently in with Kimi, didn’t have time to even keep up with half of the races towards the end of the season.

The jump from first year to second year was something that he wasn’t expecting, and he truly found out how unreliable some of his flatmates could be at times. It was hard not to love them—but equally—hard not to hate them.

His academic year this year also gave him a lot of opportunities, which perhaps, came at a trade for his freedom. It was only the start of October, not even a week in, but there was so much information to take in.

Which is why, around 2 days later after the Singapore Grand Prix had finally wrapped up, he’d sat in bed lounging around waiting for his friends to finish their dinner so they could go out, when he received a phone call.

It was picked up like it was a regular occurrence, but it was soon dropped straight down on the bed when he saw the caller ID displayed at the top of his screen.

Kimi.

Why the fuck was Kimi calling him?

His hands were trembling slightly, and he just stared at the phone as it rang. The vibrations rang throughout the padded duvet, and then the screen went back to his home screen.

Ollie couldn’t help but think. Should he have ignored that?

Then it came again. The same caller ID, the same vibrations that rang from his phone.

It rang once. Twice. Three times.

The British boy picked up on the fifth ring. “Hello?”—but the phrase was cut short, as a loud voice cut over the line.

“Salve, posso ordinare un taxi?” The Italian language came out slightly slurred, but the voice was still unrecognisable. While it was spoken in the younger boy’s native language, he could still understand the word at the end.

Ollie breathed. “Kim, I think you’ve called me by accident—”

Kimi’s voice perked up. “Kim? Mi scusi? There was only one other person who would call me that. You’re not Ollie’s friend, are you, taxi man? HOW DO YOU KNOW HIM?”

Woah. Okay. So Kimi had definitely dialled the wrong number, and was now questioning Ollie about himself. How he knew himself. Was this what they called drunk texting? Calling, even?

“Do you want me to book you a taxi?” Ollie suggested, voice shuddering.

Kimi made a noise of disappointment. “Not until you tell me how you know Ollie.” He had caught on to the fact that he couldn’t speak in his mother tongue, but he also doesn’t understand how he hadn’t figured out it was Ollie.

There was no easy way to put this. “If I told you I was Ollie, would you believe me?”

“No.” Came the quick fire response. “Ollie wouldn’t want to call me… not after—after what I did…I ruined it all, fanculo la mia vita per davvero…”

Not only was he dealing with a drunk Kimi, but a drunk Kimi was apparently a very emotional Kimi. Actually, that might be the question to ask. “Have you been drinking?”

“I don’t know…someone gave me a shot and then it was nice so I just had a couple more…and now my vision is a little…foggy. Like the visibility in Spa.” His voice seemed to trail off slightly, the tone still slurred.

"Where are you?” Concern came through strongly in Ollie’s voice.

Kimi groaned. “Outside a club in Singapore? Inside? I don’t even know, I just want to go home…hey, mystery person. Do you know what to do if you haven’t stopped crying every time you read messages between you and this guy you had a crush on?”

He froze. The truth was always blinding, but hearing it directly from Kimi shocked him to his core. His brain seemed to be lagging behind. “No.” was all that he managed to say.

“Great!” Kimi shouted, a laugh that sounded slightly wet following after. “Do you know that I gave him tickets to the Grand Prix where he lived because I found him pretty?” Ollie felt himself flushing.

Perhaps it was blushing. What? Kimi had given him tickets because…he thought he was pretty? No one had ever described him as that. Ever.

“I— no…” Ollie stammered, the words coming out more like questions. “What else did you do for him?”

He wasn’t too sure if he was taking advantage of Kimi’s drunken state, but it was just a harmless question, right? Surely Ollie wasn’t that oblivious to the Italian’s methods of flirting.

Kimi just sighed again. “I didn’t do much for him, it was just what I thought. Sure, I gave him a paddock pass, but there were so many things I didn’t tell him.”

The tears were welling up in Kimi’s voice. Ollie was about to butt in and apologise, because he couldn’t stand the sound of Kimi’s voice thick with tears, but he rambled on anyway.

“I still have him saved as his nickname in my phone. It’s orsetto. I told him it was just another name for bear—but it means little bear. The translation for teddy bear in Italian is ugly, so it had to do. Did I call him pretty? He’s really pretty.”

Kimi choked up slightly. “I liked staring at him because he has these eyes which look like orbs that just suck you in. He always made me comfortable, even if it was just the lightest of touches, and I—” he cut himself off briefly. “I don’t know, I think I was in love?”

Ollie gulped. His ears were on fire. “How did you, um—”

“Know I was in love?” Kimi responded for him. Ollie hummed. “It felt natural. I’d tried relationships before. With girls, before I realised I was gay. Then people just wanted to start taking advantage of me. Status, you know?”

The British boy kept making noises, signalling Kimi to continue. “He came along, and it was like he broke down all of my walls. I might have initiated it by giving him my phone number, but then sometimes, he would be the one to text first. I would respond. Even if it meant sneaking my phone under the table. I never liked to keep him waiting, you get me?”

Kimi chuckled. “Then there was the date. Mio dio…he wouldn’t call it a date, but it felt like it. I took him to see my family, he looked at me like I’d painted the moon in the sky for him. He pulled me in by the shoulder when we were in the photobooth, and I was right next to him. I don’t even know what cologne he uses, and I didn’t even get the chance to ask for one of his hoodies! Do you know how fucked up that is?”

Ollie’s brain was static. Complete TV static. “You— you wanted one of his hoodies?” Kimi laughed, the sound becoming more easy, as if the tears were drying up.

“I wanted every part of him close to me, I think. With the way he was acting, I thought he wanted me too. He told me all about his ex and about how they weren’t connecting.” He sniffled. “I didn’t want to be a rebound, so I left it.”

Scratch what he’d just thought, because Kimi was crying again. “Then I had…a particularly shit day, and he came to find me. Told me how amazing I was, that none of it was my fault, that there was too much pressure on me. It was like somebody was listening to me. That’s something my parents struggled to do in my younger years.”

Ollie tried his best to stay curious, but he could only resist for so long. “Your parents?”

Kimi hummed. “Traditional. Like I had a legacy to uphold, but still, the rumours aren’t out. Maybe I did something right? Ah, not with orsetto…” He was crying again. “Where the fuck is this taxi? Ucciderò tutti e poi me stesso!”

For the umpteenth time, Ollie felt frozen. He could only say this— “Is your location on?” Kimi hummed. “I’m going to go and call you a taxi. Be on the lookout.”

“Don’t you agree, though?”

Ollie waited. “Agree with what?”

“Did I do the right thing by pushing him away?”

It really was the question of the century.

The selfish part of Ollie’s mind wanted to say no. That Ollie would’ve fixed things right after he realised, and then they could’ve been happy. Happier—actually—because Ollie may have needed to catch up with his own feelings after practically avoiding them for a while.

On the other hand, the rational side of his brain said yes. Said yes because Ollie had the time to realise that he had been in love with Kimi and that it wasn’t just the heat of the moment. The pangs in his chest when Kimi wouldn’t make any attempt to continue their conversations after Ollie had wished him good luck. They were real and not fabricated, and Ollie wanted to scream it to the world.

This was too much of a crisis for 6:30pm. Ollie answered the younger boy’s question with a question. “Did you regret it?”

Kimi sniffled again. Ollie wasn’t counting, but it was the ninth time. “You sound like him too, stop being so…secretive...—” He seemed to gather his composure. “What if I said yes? Do you think that’d change anything between us?”

A gulp. Would it? Did Ollie need the push, or was he just going to resign his feelings so that Kimi would eventually be swept up by some European dreamboat?

“He’d appreciate it, I think.” Ollie murmured, tone intelligible.

Kimi took a slight gasp. “So you do know him?” Before Ollie had the chance to respond, he continued. “I can find out. He told me once about something that happened to him, and I looked up his name online. He never told me that he did karting. Do you think he was scared of me?”

Oh. There was that.

Not that he’d hidden it from Kimi, but if anyone wanted to try hard enough, it was on the internet for people to see.

Ollie still dabbled in karting from time to time, so much so after he met Kimi—because he’d helped him overcome his fear of being…there. Feeling alive at the race.

So he’d gone to the karting track near where he lived not too long after, and he’d set a record in a certain car for the fastest lap around the circuit. Obviously, that information was displayed online, and Kimi knew his full name. Well, bar the middle name.

Internet sleuthing wasn’t something that he was a stranger to—by hell, Dino did it all the time—but the fact it was coming from somebody like Kimi?

He didn’t know what to do with this information. Neither did Kimi, by the sounds of it.

“Is it a smart idea to go there one day and see if he’s there? On the off-chance? He set the record not long ago. He didn’t tell me, but I thought it was something he wanted to keep secret. I only found out a week ago, dio dannazione!” He exclaimed, frustration evident in his voice. There was a tinge of something else that Ollie couldn’t identify.

His mind relayed back to the fact that Kimi wanted to go to the place where Ollie had grown up, and coincidentally, began spending his most recent years back at.

Kimi interrupted when Ollie didn’t respond again. Tone hopeful. “Do you think he’d come looking for me?”

Truly, Ollie wanted to say yes. He wanted to be able to throw himself at Kimi, apologise for all he’d done, and make sure that everything was finally put right. Even if it was at a place where his memories were both bright and dim.

The beep of a car through the speaker took Ollie out of his reverie. “I need to book this taxi. Please stay put.”

Kimi groaned. “If the driver is called Oliver, I’m going to kill you.” Ollie laughed, even if he didn’t have the permission to do so. Then, it was Kimi who hung up.

Opening his browser to scan for the nearest taxi companies around Kimi’s location, his mind couldn’t help but relay back to the conversation as he booked a taxi under Kimi’s name.

“Is it a smart idea to go there one day and see if he’s there?”

He knew—or at least he thought he knew Kimi—he wouldn’t. Ollie, similarly, was never impulsive.

For him, however? It’s like opening a completely new can of worms.

જ⁀➴

Has Kimi ever been impulsive?

In his mind, the question was pretty easily answered—not by his own choice. There’s been impulsive periods in his life, however it was usually dictated by his parents or somebody else that had some sort of control over him.

Recently, however, this has changed. It’d all changed since he’d been spending a lot more time on his own, by his own volition.

He doesn’t want to remember all the tears that he’s shed, but then he’ll go and contradict it by looking through the stupid messages that were sent at times when neither of them should’ve been awake at the same time.

Singapore was an example, perhaps. He’d checked his call logs when he’d woken up, seen that nickname like it was teasing him, and screamed into his pillow promptly.

Yet he didn’t call him back. Or text, for that matter. No apology, no words spoken. Just Kimi—Kimi that had left the words of his drunken brain with Ollie Bearman on the other side of the world.

His inner monologue made him ignore it, and it seemed like the others did too. Still, Ollie would always wish him good luck before a race, and he was still clinging onto his words like they were keeping him above water.

It was slightly pathetic, but Kimi didn’t care. All of his cards had been laid on the table, and it was up to Ollie if he wanted to play any sort of ace.

That didn’t come until Kimi had to pull something out of his pocket, in between the Mexican and the Brazilian Grand Prix. He’d managed to book a flight to the United Kingdom for early November, just in the middle of the break when the car would need little to no modifications.

It was endlessly stupid, and he knew it. What sort of psycho went to a karting track where their crush lived close to, only to beat one of his records like he’d appear out of thin air to try and take it back immediately?

Kimi likes to think that the main driving force behind this, bar Ollie, was the fact that the time was so recent. Set in August 2025, just a mere 3 months ago. It was probably a given that Ollie was training in karting long ago, but for him to be setting records at the circuit?

That changed the game.

So, when he’d found a good enough hotel around the area for 2 nights, he found himself being driven to the area where Ollie had spent the years of his youth, and for certain days, his current age too.

He thought about checking Ollie’s location to see how close they were to each other. Neither of them had turned it off, so it was like something stuck in a constant loop in Kimi’s head. His brain supplied that word again—pathetic, but the truth is that he did regret lashing out on Ollie.

Maybe, that’s the only thing he does regret. It’s also the only thing he remembers from the phone call, considering the fact that he’d woken up to a text message that was ready to send to Ollie—’I didn’t mean for it to end this way’.

Of course, the sentence was less comprehensive due to Kimi’s intoxicated state, but the message was there nonetheless. He’d frantically deleted the text message the next morning, head aching and tips of his ears red, nothing else coming back when he’d checked his call logs the next second.

It was torturous, but Kimi didn’t think he deserved it. In fact, he didn’t think Ollie deserved it either. He’d been thinking about that day in his room—driver room, if you will—ever since.

There isn’t anything he would change, it all fell apart in the aftermath. Maybe, just maybe, that’s what Kimi would change.

So nothing would actually change between them. So the conversations flowed freely, so Kimi could complain about the pace of his car without getting caught by staff. So he could get updated on the newest mug that Ollie had found to add to his weird collection at university.

It was the tiny things that made all of the difference. Kimi could only sit and wallow, however. Perhaps it was the British weather getting to him.

There’d been highs and lows thus far. Getting his second podium, some of the media commenting on his downtrodden expression, enjoying the time off with his family when he could, everything associated with Ollie.

He didn’t know where to end the story, yet he couldn’t start anew. So here he was.

Finally, he let sleep come over him, wondering if the deep brown eyes that resembled the trunks of oak trees were the same as the ones that had bored holes into him in the middle of his family’s Italian restaurant.

જ⁀➴

Since Kimi had done his own internet sleuthing, it was only right for Ollie to do some of his own. Of course, with some added help along the way.

Ever since Kimi had let it slip that he planned to come to Ollie’s home karting track, for reasons unknown to Ollie only because the Italian had said to ‘see if he was there’—well, that’s exactly what Ollie had been doing.

The train journey wasn’t long, so he’d always go up himself to pester the staff, or he’d phone in all the same. They knew him, but he wasn’t sure if they loved him at this moment in time. Either way, he was having no success.

Until one of his favourite employees, Anna, had let slip that Kimi had booked the entire track to himself on the Sunday coming. It was comical, really—the weekend that Kimi isn’t on a race weekend, he still wants to go racing.

It was the fact that Kimi didn’t know that Ollie would be there. That’s what made him equal parts excited and nervous. Nervicited? It seemed like a pretty good mash up.

Questions ran through his mind. Would Kimi be happy to see him? Were his drunk words his sober thoughts, or was he just saying that for the sake of it? Would he eventually be the one leading Ollie on?

Maybe he didn’t quite have the liberty to think about that last one, but doubt pooled in his head. Was it too soon? That was the big question.

In the end, he didn’t let any of the questions take him by the collar and put him deep in a spiral, but he did…forget to set an alarm.

Which meant that he’d missed 2 of the hours that Kimi had booked in the morning. He also doesn’t know why Kimi wanted to go karting at 9am—Ollie thinks he’s a bit of a psycho. Still, by 12 noon, he’s making it up to the circuit.

It’s unusual for the place to be so empty. It could be understood because it was a Sunday, but there’d be the odd family or two who would want to go karting even if they weren’t avid followers of Formula 1.

Still, as they stepped in, it was different. The distinct noise of one singular kart circling the track hit Ollie like he had just received whiplash. The place didn’t give him fright, but knowing that the person he’d been chasing for months was within touching distance was here…

It was scary. He didn’t like to admit it.

Luckily, when he turned his head, he saw Anna at the counter. She noticed him and hit him with a smile—although on closer inspection, it was more like a smirk.

“I’m not even going to ask you why a Formula 1 driver is coming to our humble little track asking what record you set this morning,” her expression changed into one where she rested her hand on her chin. “but I am. So tell me.

Ollie spluttered. Kimi was trying to beat his record?

He put his hands up in defence. “Hold on, even I didn’t know that. I just knew that he was going to be here because—well—” he cut off slightly, because Anna didn’t even know about Kimi. None of them did, yet Ollie had still been calling the place like a madman.

Her expression softened. “I have time.” she reassured, turning back to the sheet of paper she was originally signing. It was her way of saying that Ollie could ramble, and that he did.

The time when they’d first met, the Silverstone escapade, the London ‘date’ (could he call it that? Kimi had), the random phone calls, the time when Ollie didn’t realise he was falling (because he could admit it now), Monza, back to where he was.

He thinks he might’ve picked up Kimi’s habit of explaining things with his hands. It was really bad for him out here.

Anna didn’t say much, just chuckled. She was a better listener than an advice giver, but she patted Ollie on the shoulder from where she could reach.

“All I’m saying is, that kid is getting dangerously close to your team. If you head upstairs, you might be able to catch a glimpse of him as he comes in within the next 10 minutes or so.”

Without thinking, he thanked Anna and ran up the stairs. He could swear that he heard her say something from afar, but he didn’t have time to pray and worship over it because he was upstairs, and now he could see everything.

Through the glass window, in his own helmet. Could he be any less subtle?

It was always fun to watch drivers in their element. That’s why he followed Formula 1, that’s why he became obsessed with Charles Leclerc for too long to remember.

There was just something so personal about seeing Kimi, somebody who had adapted to big screens in just a year, driving at his home circuit. A karting circuit, nonetheless, but he’d come here with Ollie in mind. Intent or not, it didn’t matter. It was Ollie’s record.

Up in the confines of the watching area, he let time slip away. As the rev of the engine filled his ears, he could imagine Kimi trying his hardest to make corners as tight as possible, building up as much speed as he could, all to bask in the glory of taking Ollie’s own record away from him.

Out of no place of malice—or at least he hoped. It was still surreal to him that this had happened within a space of months, and that he’d grown such a deep connection with someone that he’d never expected to.

He’d always felt slightly spoiled when it came to Kimi, and for once, Ollie feels the need to reciprocate. Not that he could spoil Kimi in the way that he’s done to him, but in a different way.

In going back on his words and telling Kimi how beautiful he actually thinks he is. Showing Kimi how he deserves to be loved by another person and not by people who just dote on him. Telling Kimi that people will always have expectations for him, but he doesn’t need to prove them to anyone, because he is his own human being in every single right.

In a way, it’s the words he said at Monza, but without the swerve at the end. The childish part of Ollie’s brain wonders if there’ll be a way to fix that error, but it’s not like Kimi was some sort of coding system. That took brains, and potentially most of his willpower too.

Just a couple of minutes later, he’d heard the whistle that he recognised too well. Kimi was ending his session—whether he’d taken a break or not in between, and he’d finally be able to see whether or not his times were good enough to knock Ollie down.

Particularly so, as Ollie was heading down the stairs, he heard the car roaring much faster, as if Kimi was squeezing every inch of life out of it. He found one of the other employees who worked around the track, Mark, who was just by the pit lane— so to say.

“Did he do it?” Ollie exclaimed, which frightened the older man out of his skin. Ollie could only laugh before he caught him slightly from where he stood, the older man grumbling and then giving Ollie a hug on the side.

He hummed as Kimi was on his cooldown lap. Receiving information from his earpiece, he wrote it down and gave it to Ollie. “You wanna go tell him?” he suggested.

The paper read: 55.62. Ollie’s old record was 55.95.

Of course that fucker had done it, and trumped it by three tenths while he was at it.

After all, this was his chance.

He decided to brave the awkwardness, making his way over to the end of the pitlane where Kimi would eventually get to. Although, he stood slightly out of view so that Kimi wouldn’t be able to see him where his helmet blocked his view.

The kart rolled in, slowing down. There was something slightly muffled that came from the helmet, and as Kimi took it off, the speech became more apparent. “Was that the one? Finally?” Maybe he had taken a break then, as he didn’t look nearly as breathless as Ollie would assume.

Stepping out of the shade, Ollie handed the piece of paper to Kimi, who spun around to meet his view. “That look like a record time to you?”

Kimi’s eyes didn’t even go to the piece of paper that was now, ever so slowly, losing grip. His helmet was dangling from his other hand, and the wide mouthed expression would be dangerous to Kimi if there were flies around.

Ollie grabbed Kimi’s wrist—the one with the piece of paper in. “Come with me?” He didn’t know where he was going, but he didn’t give Kimi a chance to respond as he tugged them away.

(Minutes later, Mark went up to Anna. “What the hell is Bearman doing? Is he alright?” he murmured, watching the two kids head off into the distance, around the track.

Anna shook her head. “Just let it all play out. Fancy a coffee?”)

જ⁀➴

There was a part of the track which was away from the rest of it, where there was a patch that Ollie always used to secretly sit on and watch the karts go by. It happened when he was young, now when he’s old? It became less of a tradition.

Now, however, he has Kimi by his side. That makes it all the more real, he thinks, as they both settle down next to each other.

There’s a burning question on Kimi’s mind. “How did you even know I was going to be here?" Do you stalk accounts on Instagram that leak our locations?”

Ollie chuckled, shaking his head. “Nope. Drunk call in Singapore remind you of anything?” he replied, and Kimi took his palm to his face so quickly that he couldn’t stop the much heartier chuckle that ripped out of him.

He vaguely registers Kimi saying something in Italian before continuing. “I really hope I didn’t embarrass myself too much…” he trailed off, going a lot quieter. He stared at the hills that surround the tracks, as if he was walking on eggshells.

Ollie decides to take the burden of carrying the conversation. “Listen,” Kimi’s head turned quickly towards him. “I know I’ve got a lot of things to apologise for. Everything I said to you back in Monza was completely true, but I—” he sighed. “Can I just talk for a bit?”

Kimi nodded. “As long as you let me talk after.” he reminded him. That was his sign to go.

“I’ve been thinking. A lot, really. About you and I. I wanted to make sure that when I texted you really spontaneously the day after that it wasn’t just a heat of the moment thing, which is why…well, I tried to give you the space. I put up a bunch of boundaries when my ex went because of the shit that I had to go through with her, and it was like…new? In a sense?”

The silence rolled on for a little, as Ollie struggled to conjoin his words together. “I’m not saying that I’m using you as an experiment or anything. My family has always been accepting, and I’ve been an ally for the longest time, before—well—you know what. This.”

“So why did you do what you did?” The question was laser sharp, but it was something that was imperative to the talk between the two. Ollie doesn’t even care that he got interrupted.

“Big word. Heteronormativity.” Ollie explained, turning to Kimi slightly after. “It was the people I surrounded myself with during secondary school. I had my friends, but there would always be some expectation placed on you. Like you had to dress this way, you had to act this way, otherwise you would get singled out by everyone. That was just the reality of it. It changed when I went to uni no doubt, but it just sticks with you?”

He chuckled slightly. “It’s like I still don’t have my life figured out. Let’s look at it this way.” he began, before using his hands to gesture things out. “I’m here, I’m in university. I have a good circle of friends, I’m on my way to—hopefully—getting a good job.”

“Then, comes you.” Ollie slices his hand in the middle of where he’d represented himself and a career. “Not to say that you’re destroying my career, but more…taking down walls that I didn’t know I had. What if there’s more to life than just a career? I…I don’t know. I feel like I’d closed myself off from exploring romance because I was just so paranoid of everything.”

Kimi had shuffled slightly closer to him. “I know it’s not much of an excuse but, I do think I have real feelings for you, Kim. If you’re willing to hear me out.” Ollie reasoned. “If you want to speak first…” the offer was open, and Kimi’s face had become slightly grimaced.

“I’m just processing, mate.” he replied bluntly, which almost made Ollie break out into a laugh. He still couldn’t prevent the slight smile from appearing, as it was authentically Kimi. Eventually, said boy turned to him, then turned away, before speaking.

“You know about my sexuality. Briefly.” Kimi started. “I would like to say I’m in…a much better headspace than in Italy, but the struggles I talked about then are still relevant. My father wasn’t the best about it, especially because of the career I’d chosen. This was all before Formula 2 started, I just didn’t look at girls the same way.”

He picked up a rock from the side of him, throwing it back to where it was. “They were trying to set me up. PR, they called it. It all just made me so uncomfortable. So I just stayed away from it, because of the sort of countries we race in when it comes to motorsport and their laws. Right?”

Ollie nodded, urging Kimi to go on. “Then, similarly, you came in and fucked everything up in ways that I couldn’t imagine. You were like…what’s the word. A breakaway from everything.” Kimi said, and the sincerity was glaringly obvious through his tone. Ollie’s eyes were trained on him, even though the latter’s were flitting.

“I had support in the end. After I’d told them—my family, especially my aunt. About you.” Kimi confessed. “It seemed surreal to say, especially because you’d mentioned your ex. It was from then that I thought I had practically no chance whatsoever. You know what happens when I take my chances too far though, eh?”

He attempted to play it off like a joke, but anybody would be able to tell that Kimi’s tone was a little shaky. Nonetheless, he continued. “So I hid my feelings deep down, trying my best not to contact you, even though I’d always go through our messages. There was still this sinking feeling that after you messaged me, you were going to try and use it to out me for your benefit…”

The Italian’s tone was icy, almost like it was a shameful thing to admit. He thinks that he sees Kimi wince, unless it’s a shiver from the cold.

The accusation is as clear as day though. While Kimi has every right to think that, it was the British boy’s turn to at least resume his reassurance.

“Kimi, please—you know I’d never do that. Especially not to someone who I’ve come to treasure so much.” The words slipped out like honey, not being able to catch them before they spilled.

Kimi looked up at him again. “You’re doing it again, you know.” His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes that brought Ollie in. “Making me feel like I’m the most special person on earth with your words.”

Ollie spluttered. “Well—I mean that wasn’t really my intention, but if it helps you then—yeah. I mean, it’s true! Why would I lie like that?” The words came out like a broken record, and as he was slowly losing his mind.

Kimi repositioned himself, so he was a little more prominent in Ollie’s eyeline. “If I kiss you this time, can you promise not to avoid me?”

Ollie was like a fish. Mouth open, mouth closed, as if he was following a sequence of actions that he’d been programmed to do. He doesn’t exactly register what Kimi actually said until he notices Kimi getting that little bit closer to him.

He doesn’t have time to promise Kimi anything, because he can’t speak with Kimi’s lips on his.

It starts off as a peck. Kimi pulls away slightly after, as if Ollie isn’t focusing on the way his curls have never actually framed his face. He wonders if Kimi has ever picked up a hairbrush, but he doesn’t have time to think about that when there’s a hand on his cheek, lips leaning in again.

Ollie doesn’t know how he recalibrates, but he finds Kimi nibbling on the bottom part of his lip, and it’s like floodgates open. He knows he’s doing this right in the open, where people that have surrounded him his entire life are—but he can’t find it in him to care.

Not when Kimi is kissing him like the world is ending, as if Ollie is the fragile one who’s about to break. Ollie doesn’t know where to place his hands for a brief moment—eventually settling for Kimi’s neck, as their faces grow closer and the heat shared between the two of them is something close to intimacy.

They’re reminded of where they are by the sound of metal moving somewhere. It’s Kimi that detaches first, even though Ollie’s eyes are still slightly closed when the warmth he’d become so used to suddenly faded away.

He opens his eyes, and Kimi is just there with a soft smile. As if there could be a halo painted atop his head. If only the British weather was willing to cooperate with him.

Then Kimi just—straight up laughs. As if Ollie hadn’t had his same-sex kiss virginity just taken away from him. Lips locked and everything.

“Have I got something on my face?” Ollie blurts, incredulously. Kimi is still chuckling a little.

“No, you’re just so cute. Can I keep you in my pocket?” Kimi asks.

It’s Ollie’s turn to blush once again. It’s a familiar feeling that he thinks he’s felt before, but once again, maybe too heteronormative to maybe even realise. “I’m literally taller than you.”

Kimi stands up, pulling Ollie up with him. “You’re still my orsetto,” and he says it with such a tone that Ollie could swoon for him right there. “Did you even have a plan when you came here?”

“Did you?” Ollie rebuts quickly, but answers Kimi’s question anyway. “I don’t live far, but…no. I didn’t, duh.”

Kimi comments on how it’s not like him to be impulsive, as to which Ollie can only respond with a look at Kimi. It’s one to discuss later.

In response to him, Kimi exclaims “I have a hotel booked nearby. Well, a 5 minute drive nearby, but still. You want to spend more time with me, don’t you? Unless there’s anything more interesting at your little karting circuit.” It’s a slightly chided response, but Ollie finds himself giggling all the same.

“Definitely not. We’re definitely going to grab something to eat though,” Ollie decides. “Do you think your trainer will care if you have an off day?”

જ⁀➴

What was the current struggle that Kimi Antonelli, F1 driver for Mercedes, was having you may ask?

He was resisting every single temptation to keep his hands off of the most handsome, pretty, any other synonym like it—British boy that he’d ever seen.

It was like they were in a stage where they knew they liked each other, but they haven’t confirmed it. Unless Ollie was on some devious plan to make Kimi break out into hysterical sobbing again, although Kimi thinks that he’s got the former locked down.

They’re currently in their hotel room, eating whatever fast food they could find and in turn, was acceptable to eat at 4pm. There really wasn’t much to do, so what Ollie said had been true.

Every time Ollie put his finger in his mouth to wipe off the grease that was once there, it drove Kimi just the tiniest bit crazy. He’d save those visuals for another time—he was trying his best not to get grease on the bedsheets either.

“Don’t you think it’s mental?” Ollie suddenly reports, finishing the last of the french fry that was in his mouth.

Kimi hummed. “What exactly?”

“How we’ve turned out. After all this…would you have expected it?”

“Well, considering two months ago—” but Ollie had slammed a bunch of french fries into his mouth before he could continue. He chuckled slightly as Kimi’s expression changed into one of mock anger, but he couldn’t stay angry at Ollie for long.

“As I was saying, that happened. I didn’t know if you were ever going to get your shit together, and you knew the doubts I had about you anyway. Even if you were like some lovesick puppy that wanted my attention by saying good luck to me.”

He watched as the tips of Ollie’s cheeks turned a rosy pink. “Lovesick puppy? That’s what you’re using?” he responded, tone coming out a bit more hopeful than usual. Kimi saved the reaction into the back of his mind, where he seemed to have a file reserved for all of Ollie’s facial expressions.

“Would you prefer me to just keep calling you orsetto? Or I could say something really cliché and completely ruin it for you.” Kimi deadpanned, no longer trying to keep the romance alive.

It elicited a laugh from Ollie. “You and your nicknames. I don’t have any more for you, because English isn’t exactly the most romantic language on the planet.” he explained flatly.

Said boy got up all of a sudden to put their rubbish in the bin that was just under the desk in the room. He came back shortly to sit next to Kimi on the bed, foreheads slightly closer than they once were, almost reminiscent of Monza.

“Did you fall asleep on me, on purpose?” Ollie questioned. It didn’t sound like it had been a burning question, but it was one that he’d been meaning to ask apparently.

Kimi shook his head. “I was genuinely just tired. I don’t think I even remembered the name of the movie we were watching, it was kinda shit. You were just comfy.” Ollie just looked away slightly. Kimi was enjoying this game way too much.

“Next time, though, we should sleep under the covers, right?” Kimi turned to Ollie with a glint in his eyes. Ollie only coughed, but Kimi thought that he heard him muttering out a quick ‘sure…yeah..whatever…’

They were just enjoying each other’s presence, but Kimi’s patience was wearing thin. He was still facing Ollie, and the other was looking at him as if he’d just shown him the hardest tangram puzzle ever.

“Why are you looking at me like I have the answers to the universe?” Ollie pondered. It was quite endearing to hear him say it like that.

“You do. Can you kiss me?” Kimi replied, shamelessly.

Ollie stammered. “Sorry?”

“Can you kiss me?” The Italian repeated.

“You want me—” Ollie pointed to himself. “to kiss you?” his voice squeaked up at the end, so Kimi could tell it wasn’t disgust. You’d swear this guy was a virgin, god knows how he’s survived all this time. Bless his heart, Kimi thought.

Kimi smirked. Leaning closer to Ollie, he went a little closer to his ear, breath fanning over it but far enough away so that there was no contact.

“Do you want me to do it for you?” he whispered, and he could almost pinpoint the moment where Ollie had shivered.

That was all that Ollie needed, apparently, pulling Kimi by the shoulders before crashing their lips together in something that was a lot less tentative than last time.

The kiss wasn’t messy, but it shared a lot more passion between the two. Both boys were fighting for control, their tongues unafraid to cross paths while they were drowned by their own personal space. At some point, Kimi recalls snaking his hand around Ollie’s waist to pull them even closer.

Eventually, Ollie gave in, and Kimi lifted them slightly towards the headboard so that Ollie could stay comfortable. It seemed like the former wanted to put his hands all over Kimi—constantly switching to what felt most safe to him, getting lost in him like he was a fable he’d been looking for his entire life.

It was only natural for the kiss to get more heated. Ollie seemed to have an obsession with running his hands through Kimi’s curls at some point, either messing them up more or trying to smooth them down. There was no in between, but it was like the British boy had primal instincts that had just been waiting to be released.

Kimi, in return, realised how sensitive Ollie really was. Kimi could do as much as bring Ollie in a little closer, either by placing a hand on his back or bringing him in by the nape, and Ollie couldn’t resist gasping into the touch.

There were times when their tones matched each other, where one went lower while the other went higher. The sounds of their lips meshing together was the only thing that could be heard, except for the shuffling of sheets when Kimi decided to move them around.

So much so that Ollie had eventually made his way slowly into Kimi’s lap. It was comical, really—a man considerably taller than him, essentially turning into putty when Kimi did as much as breathe near him.

He takes the off-chance to wonder how long after Ollie had sent that text he did realise that he’d been in love with Kimi, because he sure was kissing like he meant it. It had exceeded Kimi’s fantasies and more—Ollie’s too, apparently, as the beating of his heart was recognisable against his own.

Eventually, they needed to come apart for air, and it was Kimi who pulled away once again. There was a string of saliva that slightly connected them, which the Italian could only giggle at before teasing Ollie by trying to send it back towards his mouth.

The other boy screamed in terror, finally jumping away from Kimi, but almost falling off the bed in the process. Even in his slightly terrorised state, it was hard not to admire the handiwork that Kimi had put in.

Ollie’s eyes looked glossed over with something that Kimi could only describe as infatuation—he’d seen the same look with particular people that he’d met over the years. His cheeks were completely flamed up, and his lips.

His lips were quite frankly a work of art, and it boosted Kimi’s ego even more than it should’ve. He would always go around saying that he didn’t have much to be proud of—but how Ollie’s lips looked swollen and shiny in the dim natural light of the room made his heart flutter that tiny bit more.

“You’re gorgeous,” Kimi blurted, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. It seemed to affect Ollie, who just tried to hide his face with the arms of the jacket he’d been wearing. Kimi used this as his opportunity to get closer, pry them away, and give him a quick peck on the lips again.

Ollie was feeling very hyperaware. “You’re a menace, do you know that?” his tone was airy, as if he’d just found the true meaning of bliss. Kimi hopes that he was able to provide it, as the taller boy laid flat against the pillow. Kimi tumbled over to the other side.

The question was left as rhetorical. Instead, Kimi posed one of his own. “Do you have to be back at your uni house tonight?”

Ollie shook his head. “I was staying with my parents for the weekend because we had a family gathering somewhere further east yesterday, so I’m staying there tonight as well.”

Kimi was about to respond when Ollie made the invitation. “Do you want to come and meet them?”

That left him at a loss for words. “What would you even say? Hi mum and dad, this is Kimi Antonelli, a Formula 1 driver for Mercedes—” but he couldn’t continue anymore, as Ollie put a finger on his lips.

“They know about you,” Ollie voiced. Kimi tilted his head in confusion, until Ollie just said “Monza?" Kimi nodded in confirmation.

“Besides,” Ollie continued. “I’d just introduce you as Kimi Antonelli, my boyfriend, no?”

Hold the fucking phone.

It was Kimi’s turn to splutter now—a common theme that had been occurring for Ollie the entire day. “Did you just say boyfriend?”

Ollie chuckled. “You just kissed the life out of me for 10 minutes, called me gorgeous, came all the way here to beat my silly little record on a karting track. Andrea Kimi Antonelli, do you expect me not to swoon for you after all this time?” He tutted. “Here I was thinking I made it clear…”

A huge smile broke out on Kimi’s face all of a sudden. “You’re so fucking silly. Is this you confessing to me, orsetto?” For once, Ollie didn’t cower away. He just nodded.

This just meant that Kimi would have to get the one-up on the proposal later on in life.

His life—for now—was great, as he locked hands with Ollie in the middle of a hotel room near his hometown.

“So, meeting my parents?” Ollie reminded.

There was that too, he figured.

જ⁀➴

It was the next day, the day Kimi had to leave. His parents—were actually home from work, as a surprise—and they’d showered Kimi in all the love and attention he could get.

His brother was quite starry-eyed too. He was never as big of a Formula 1 fan as Ollie or his dad, but he could still appreciate Kimi after Ollie had probably droned on about him during the summer break around 3 months ago.

Pleasantries were exchanged, and he caught his mother having a chat with Kimi on the sofa while his dad was with him in the kitchen. He thinks that Kimi shed a tear, but he’d press him on that later.

Kimi never ended up going back to the hotel, asking the security that was with him to check both of them out. They’d slept under the covers for the first time, in Ollie’s childhood room, which Kimi had instantly recognised.

(“Was this the first place you video called me from? I recognise the purple light…you know, I almost couldn’t see you.”

“I told you to tell me if the video quality was bad! Why did you lie to me, Antonelli?”

“Why are you using your last name for someone you made out with in your childhood bedroom not too long ago—”)

Ollie put that last statement in the back of his mind. For now, however, Kimi was flying commercial because he was only getting a short flight back to Bologna. There was the offer of going back to Brackley before the race in Brazil, but Kimi decided he wanted to spend it at home with his family.

They couldn’t do much while they were in public—but Kimi had pulled in Ollie for a hug when they were less surrounded by crowds. “Why the sudden turn of affection?” Ollie noted.

“You know why. ‘m gonna miss you.” The words were slightly muffled, but hearing them did no more to calm the butterflies that had consistently been in Ollie’s stomach ever since that fateful day.

In saying that, it had been less than 24 hours. It still felt surreal to have somebody that he could call his partner. His twin flame. His boyfriend, even.

“May I remind you that there’s a lovely little app that you’re sponsored by that we can use? Maybe put that in your next documentary?” Ollie teased.

Kimi gasped. “You watched that?”

“Why would I not, love?” Kimi blushed. He wasn’t used to the nicknames that Ollie had been giving him other than Kim—even though it was unique, there were variations.

Ollie had tested out ‘love’ (which was a success), ‘sweetheart’ (which Kimi had promptly kissed him over). The younger boy also pretended not to be too fond of ‘baby’, but Ollie thinks he recalls Kimi kicking his feet after Ollie had whispered it to him before they went to sleep last night.

The honeymoon phase, they call it. That’s definitely what it felt like—but it was the saddening realisation that Ollie probably wouldn’t be able to see Kimi until just before Christmas. If he was that lucky.

Eventually, when the time had come for Kimi to head off through the rest of the airport, he removed his glasses for a second so that he could kiss Ollie.

It was a light peck, lasting about 10 seconds. Every kiss that Kimi gave him, Ollie still couldn’t seem to relay back from.

Kissing Kimi was like a sensation he hadn’t known he’d needed. He’d felt those feelings before with others, sure, however they were severely muted. There’s a buzz between him and Kimi that he can’t name, but it just works. He gets him and he’d hope that the other boy gets him, too.

“You’re bold today,” Ollie commented offhandedly, trying to hide the blush that was rising on his cheeks. Maybe he should start wearing concealer, or whatever popstars use.

Kimi giggled. “I’d be really surprised if someone was tracking me. There’s no private jet here, so they wouldn’t even know I’m flying.” He was right in that aspect, but he’d definitely have to keep his protective celebrity gear on when he traversed the rest of Heathrow.

“Don’t worry, orsetto.” Kimi patted the top of Ollie’s head, having to get up onto his tiptoes slightly. “You know I’ll be here for you. I’m like your emotional support that you’ve been roped to for the rest of your life.”

“Rest of your life?” Ollie repeated breathlessly. “That’s a commitment.”

“A commitment I’m willing to make,” Kimi flirted, poking Ollie’s cheek from where it had started to turn even redder. There was a call over the intercom saying that check in for his flight was about to close.

Ollie hugged him once again, away from the crowds. “Call me when you land?” Kimi nodded. It wasn’t an emotional goodbye, but it wasn’t one to where Ollie could kiss him senselessly until the ghost of Ollie’s lips was the only thing that Kimi would be able to remember throughout the entire flight.

“Arrivederci, amore mio!” Kimi yelled, albeit quiet enough to stop any unneeded attention. Ollie could only wave as he watched Kimi turn the corner.

It was sad to see him go, but Ollie had adapted to life with and without him before—just not physically once he’d been in a relationship. It’d be hard, but they’d make it work.

Even so, he was wondering how to tell his flatmates about how he’d managed to bag a Formula 1 driver. If any of them cared.

(Well, Dino definitely would.)

જ⁀➴

Abu Dhabi Grand Prix — Sunday 7th December

REPORTER: Kimi! It’s so good to have you here. It’s the end of your rookie season, and you’re going into this race with a respectable two podiums, gaining some well deserved points for Mercedes. How do you feel at this current moment?

ANTONELLI: It’s crazy, you know? I know that there were a lot of people that didn’t have that much faith in me, but I’d just like to say…thank you, eh, to the people that did believe in me. I think they know who they are.

REPORTER: Are you excited to be driving for Mercedes next year? Do you think that there’s any changes that will have to be made for the team to become championship contenders once again?

ANTONELLI: Hopefully we can take the mistakes that the team, and myself of course, made this year and correct them to become better runners for sure. I think that everybody will definitely step up their game to match the pace of the McLaren, so we can only hope.

REPORTER: Finally, before we lose you Kimi, is there anything that you’re taking away from this season at this current moment? It can be off-track or on-track, what defines the season for you?

ANTONELLI: Heh, well…it’s something that happened off-track. I actually met someone, and they make me feel a little bit more sane about myself every day. They have been something of an anchor to me when I’ve been feeling down, even though they were also the cause of my worst times. We made everything up and he’s everything to me. I’d definitely love for you guys to meet them soon, because he was a Ferrari fan originally before this! Can you imagine his face when we met and they saw me?

REPORTER: [chuckle] It was lovely speaking with you, Kimi. Good luck out there today.

The day after

love did you read the transcript for your interview?
you said he…like twice

Merda
The social team hasn’t sent me an email, they can deal with it.
I get to see you in one week, can you look forward to that instead? :(

[Picture of Ollie taking a mirror selfie. He’s wearing a Mercedes branded shirt with the number 12 on it, with a pair of black tracksuits to go with it. He has a face mask on that looks like it’s been sitting there a while. There’s a toothbrush in his mouth, and he’s making a thumbs up motion at the camera.]

do you think driver number 12 for mercedes would wear face masks with me?

You’re so cute I’m going to follow you home