Chapter Text
George Russell had a strange expression on his face that made Kimi doubt his choice to share his deepest secret with him immediately. Even though deepest secret might make someone think it was truly something terrible, terror-inducing - though those seemed to be synonyms but he wasn't actually sure and it was late and he was tired and Ollie had looked so hot getting out of his car that weekend and Kimi had been dying and in desperate need of help, and–
George cleared his throat like he could see the twirling thoughts inside his brain. Kimi felt himself blush.
‘I don't know, mate,’ he said, in between one sigh and the next, in the most British accent Kimi had ever heard. Except for Ollie's. Ollie's accent was definitely very British, though perhaps he just thought it was better and that had nothing to do with the Britishness of it all but rather with how Kimi felt about him which, by the way, was a problem, and hearing Russell's defeated reply to his desperate pleas for help did nothing to better his mood.
Kimi groaned loudly, earning himself a couple of glares from the team mechanics working away on their cars. Right, so perhaps that hadn't been the best moment to share his agonies with his teammate, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and if there was one thing Kimi was right about, then it was desperate.
He bit his lower lip, staring up at George. ‘Right. Thanks anyway, mate,’ though he hadn't been quite as helpful as Kimi had hoped, had he? No matter, he could understand how his stupid crush on his friend wouldn't be much of a pressing matter to his older teammate anyway. Except George seemed actually troubled by it, and Kimi smiled despite himself.
He shrugged, wishing it would be enough to make Russell forget everything about it without him having to ask, and turned around to finally leave the garage after a gruesome weekend. George grabbed his wrist before he could take two full steps away.
‘Wait, wait, mate. You can't just– Who is it?’ George asked, brow raised in sheer curiosity.
Kimi scoffed as if his heart wasn't slamming against his ribs. No, he couldn't tell… Surely, he couldn't— No.
When he had come looking for help, he had simply told George he had a small, slight, nearly irrelevant crush on another driver - lying through his teeth was easier than he had originally thought it would be under Russell's scrutiny - and couldn't seem to clear his mind of it no matter how much he tried. And, yes, it was impacting his race, because his heartbeat was supposed to be steady all the time, but it went insane every time Oliver winked at him, or smiled, or breathed a bit too close, and he did not know how to make it calm down again. It fucked with his races and his head.
So, somehow, he kept it fairly anonymous. Though it was clear George wasn't too happy about it.
‘You don't know him,’ he quickly said.
George glared at him for a handful of seconds before chuckling. ‘Kimi. You just told me it was one of the drivers. Damn, this really is messing with your head, huh?’
He scrunched his nose unhappily. ‘Whatever, mate. It doesn't matter. If you can't help, then you can't help. It's whatever.’
Unfortunately, George didn't seem too inclined to let it go yet. ‘Come on. You know about me and Alex. Tell me.’ At that, Kimi's jaw fell open as he gauged what George had just confessed.
‘Excuse me?’ He ended up saying, shaking his head to further his incomprehension of what exactly he had meant.
‘Erm… Don't you?’
‘Don't I what?’ Kimi said, still staring openly at George.
‘Know…?’ He asked, seemingly watching Kimi just as close as Kimi was watching him.
‘Know,’ he repeated, stupidly. Then, he blinked twice and nodded, ‘Yes, of course I know. Just–’ He sighed, ‘Know what exactly?’
George smirked at him, ‘The thing. With Alex. And me.’
‘Right. Except that really doesn't give much away, does it?’ Kimi asked, starting to get exasperated. Because what George was insinuating… it was huge. Insanely huge, at least for him. Because wanting Ollie had been his secret, he had never believed he would be able to have him like that in the world they lived in. But if he was understanding correctly what George was saying… Yeah, it changed everything.
At that, Russell laughed openly. ‘Mate, how have you missed this?’ Kimi held back the urge to shout at George until he explained what he meant by “this”. ‘Have you never seen Alex leaving our garage bizarrely late for a race?’
Kimi opened his mouth and then— stopped. Actually thought about it for a moment. ‘I mean, yes. But you are friends.’
George grunted, ‘I told Max he didn't have to worry about how loud your earbuds are, Kimi. Come on, don't make me a liar.’
‘They're fine, normal volume— What does this even have to do with…?’ He gestured around, unsure of how to classify their conversation.
‘Everything, mate. Me and Alex, friends? Yes, those earbuds were loud before each race. Everyone knows the walls are thin.’’
‘I still don't—’ and then he blushed furiously. ‘I–’ Shook his head at George and his grin. ‘My earbuds are not of your concern, by the way.’ He said, because it was the only thing about what George had just said that he felt safe enough to discuss.
‘Tell that to Max. He won't stop bloody bothering me about it.’ Russell grunted, rolling his eyes as if Verstappen was currently in front of him.
‘So. You and Alex,’ Kimi smiled quietly. Yeah, he could see that. Though he would have guessed George and Max were secretly going at it by how much heat they shared when in the same room. Perhaps that actually was just hate, but, honestly, it was hard to know.
‘Yes, mate. Everyone knows it,’ and he laughed, like the sheer thought of the whole grid knowing about his… hookup buddy? Boyfriend? Kimi didn't know and felt a bit silly asking. Either way, the sheer thought of it was enough to send shivers down his spine.
‘And Alex as in… Alexander. Albon, that is,’ he added, in the hopes of clarifying it as much as he possibly could.
‘Do you know any other Alex?’ George asked, voice dripping with amusement.
‘I mean… Yes. Don't you?’ Kimi wondered aloud.
George thought about it for a second, ‘Probably. So, yes. Alexander Albon. Williams driver.’
‘Our rival,’ Kimi added, because he was shocked and not because he was trying to be a prick.
Thankfully, Russell seemed to take it very well, laughing happily, ‘Your rival, maybe, mate. Not mine.’
‘Right,’ he allowed. ‘Good for you. I'm happy, really. But it's late and–’ He tried to run away, hoping the thought of George's… lover? Husband? Possibly fuckbuddy? It would be enough to distract him from how they had gotten to that subject in the first place.
‘Antonelli.’ He froze, his shoulders sagged and he grimaced at George. ‘Who is it?’
‘So, is your relationship not a secret at all?’ Kimi asked, leaning against what he had thought was a closed door and falling right through it when his body weight met the slightly open door. George grabbed him before his face could meet the wall in the broom closet. ‘What the fuck,’ he muttered, ‘Why is this here? Do we need it for anything?’ He asked.
‘You might not. Alex likes it, though, and it was very much like hearing your older brother having sex in the room just by your side. Kimi wanted to die.
He quickly closed that door and made a mental note never to revisit it again. Perhaps burn it to the ground.
He cursed under his breath a couple more times until George resumed their very unfortunate conversation. ‘No, Kimi, it's not a secret at all. I'm shocked you hadn't picked up on it until now, honestly.’
Seeing that Kimi was unsure as to how George would react to him sharing that he had thought he was messing around with Max, he decided to go with the obvious lie.
‘I had, I was just… Making sure.’
George snorted. ‘Nice try, by the way,’ and right as Kimi was about to ask what he meant by that, he asked once more, ‘Who is it?’
‘That's private information,’ Kimi said, just wanting Russell to drop it.
‘What is private information?’ Asked a voice behind Kimi. He didn't even need to turn around to know who it belonged to, and even if he hadn't recognized the voice, the frown on George's face would have given their identity away.
‘You can't be here, mate,’ George said, teeth gritted.
Kimi, despite knowing it would piss George off, smiled up at Max. ‘He's right, you know. Could get yourself in trouble.’
But Verstappen only laughed. If it was because no one got him in trouble or because he still never seemed to get rid of it, Kimi wasn't sure.
‘Right. So. Private information?’
Kimi sighed and shrugged, not about to ask Verstappen about his silly crush.
Except George Russell was an asshole. ‘If you don't tell me who, I'm telling Max.’
‘Don't blackmail him, Russell. That's pathetic,’ and after a mean laugh, he looked down at Kimi for a split second before staring back at his frenemy but not hookup. ‘Tell me what?’
‘I can't tell you if I want to know,’ George told him, annoyed.
Kimi groaned, ‘No one is telling anything. We're done talking.’
George grinned, ‘Imma tell him…’
‘George, mate. Come on, drop it, will you? Just forget it. It's not important.’ He begged.
‘What's not important?’ Max asked behind them only to be ignored by them both.
‘If it's not important, then you won't mind sharing a name…’ George continued on.
‘What name? Name of what?’ Max asked.
Ignored once more.
‘I do mind. No names. Please, mate.’
‘Please what?!’ Max yelled, finally making them both turn to stare at him. ‘Tell me what's happening.’
‘No,’ Kimi offered.
George smiled like the fucking Cheshire cat. ‘Time's up, mate. Kimi has a crush on a driver.’
And before Max even had time to react to that, Kimi shouted, ‘George and Alex are fucking!’ at the top of his lungs.
To his credit, Max didn't seem too shocked by any of the revelations. First, he looked at Kimi and said, puzzled, ‘Yes, I know that. Everyone knows that,’ and then, like a second thought, ‘Didn't you know that? Kimi. How loud are those earbuds? Mate, you need to hear things well if you want to be a driver for a long time, and–’ Honestly, Kimi would rather discuss his stupid crush than that.
‘Did you not hear what I said?’ George asked, as if hearing his mind.
‘Yes, but I'd rather ignore you completely.’
‘Cheeky,’ Russell said, smiling tightly.
‘Not quite as much as my new contract with Mercedes will be,’ Max said, though his smile was smug.
Kimi quietly and efficiently put himself between the two. George caught sight of the movement and scoffed.
‘Also, I already knew that too. So, you were, once more, useless.’
‘Like you when you don't have the fastest car?’
Max laughed, but Kimi saw the small wince. Not upset, no. Angry.
Right. That wasn't good.
‘What do you mean, you know?’ Kimi asked, a bit exasperated by the thought.
‘You look at Bearman like he hung the moon. He isn't even that fast, by the way,’ Max said, before yawning, like he hadn't just unmade Kimi's whole day with two sentences.
‘Bearman?!’ Russell shouted. ‘I can't believe you told him,’ he said it like a curse, though perhaps it was only the dramatic accent, ‘and not me.’
‘I didn't tell him,’ he felt the urge to point out. ‘And no. Not Bearman.’
Max snorted. ‘Yes, Bearman. Come on, Kimi. It's obvious. Everyone knows.’
‘Everyone knows?!’ He shouted. ‘Everyone— What?’ It was a demand more than a question.
‘Alright. Not everyone knows. I know. And I told Charles.’ Max confessed, shrugging like it was no big deal. ‘And now George.’
‘Appreciate it,’ George said, clearly a bit against his will, but the politeness spoke louder - even though he could insult Max all day long.
Max scoffed as a reply.
‘Why would you tell Leclerc? I can't– Why, Max?!’
‘I didn't know it was a secret!’ Verstappen defended himself. ‘It's not like you're trying to hide it!’ Kimi's cheeks burned. ‘Oh, fuck. You are trying to hide it.’
‘I mean–’ he splattered over the words. ‘Kinda? Ollie doesn't know.’
‘So it is Oliver,’ George said. The full name made Kimi extremely uncomfortable.
‘Yes. It's Ollie, okay? Happy now?’ George shrugged, but he was grinning. ‘Max, you can't tell people. He cannot know. He can't—’ Oh God, Kimi was dying. He was dying, and Ollie could not know about this. Not when Kimi had been bloody fantasising about him since they had met and it would taint their whole friendship, which he appreciated a lot.
‘Okay. Kimi,’ Max shook a hand in front of his face rather desperately, ‘Okay. Alright. I'm not telling him. Charles won't either. I didn't know it was a secret.’
George was staring at them with his eyes narrowed, ‘See? I would never have done that to you.’
‘So you didn't text Alex about it?’ Max challenges.
‘Uuh—’ George said and Kimi spun around, outraged.
‘George!’
‘He won't tell! Why can Verstappen's fuckbuddy know and not my boyfriend?’ Okay, so they were dating. Kimi smiled kindly at that. Sweet, really, they were, and wait a fucking second.
‘I–’ He pointed at Max, ‘You–’ and then, finally, finally, it all clicked into place and he was done. ‘No. No you know what? No. Don't speak. I do not want to know. This,’ he gestured at them, ‘is a mess and I am not part of it,’ but the way both drivers were staring at him told Kimi he was very much part of it. He grunted. ‘Just keep your mouth shut.’
Max threw his hands up right as George said. ‘Come on, Kimi! Let us help!’ And then, catching his mistake a second too late, he corrected himself, ‘Let me help.’
‘You literally said you couldn't help me!’ Kimi shouted back, arguably a bit frustrated.
‘Because he can't,’ Max said, ‘But I absolutely can.’
Kimi snapped his mouth shut, gathering all his patience once more. He loved Max and he loved George, but he was so done with their shitty competition with each other. He breathed in and out before saying, ‘No, thank you. No need for help. I'm fine.’
‘“I'm fine,” he says,’ Max mocked.
‘I regret teaching you that,’ Kimi said, sighing.
George smirked once more. ‘We'll just give you some pointers. You can do whatever you want. Really.’
‘And,’ Max added quickly, ‘Then we'll let it go.’ Kimi arched his brow at the blatant lie.
‘We will!’ George agreed. And perhaps it was because they had finally agreed on something, but Kimi found himself caving.
‘Fine. But I'll decide, and if I want to do nothing, then that's what I'll do.’
They nodded desperately at him. He held back his laughter; what a sight, really.
‘Okay. I think you should write him something. Just you know, put it all down and then burn it.’ George said, very fast, words stumbling on each other, scared Kimi would change his mind.
He didn't even get the chance to actually consider the idea before Max was already snorting. ‘Okay, Shakespeare,’ he laughed, ‘Kimi, don't do that. Just go up to Ollie and talk to him. Flirt a little,’ Kimi made a face at that and Max nodded, ‘Yeah, mate, sorry. Let me rephrase that. Kiss him.’
‘That's sexual assault,’ George pointed out. ‘Don't just kiss him if he doesn't give you the signal.’
‘What is the signal?’ He asked, in panic. Not that he was planning on just kissing Ollie like that, but it was certainly good to know.
‘What, haven't you ever kissed anyone?’ Max asked and Kimi's whole face burned.
‘Of course I have! Mate, I'm a Formula One driver. I've kissed people. And, you know, fucked people as well—’ At that, George let out a loud shout.
‘Don't bloody tell us that!’
Max nodded vehemently at that. ‘Please, don't. And I was talking to George, by the way. You know, with the whole signal thing.’
Russell shot him an uninterested glare, ‘Go fuck yourself.’
‘Kimi, do not write him a letter,’ Max repeated. But, actually, it didn't seem like such a bad idea after all.
Kimi wasn't looking for advice on how to get Ollie to fall head over heels with him. He just wanted to get rid of the annoying feeling of not being able to breathe whenever he was close, and not thinking of anyone else ever, and of smiling stupidly up at him sometimes, and the dreams too, if possible. So he could focus better on what actually mattered: racing.
‘Oh, God. You're gonna write a letter,’ Max concluded.
George beamed at him.
‘Well–’ Max grunted. ‘It's just a letter. I don't want him, Max.’ An arch brow and he sighed, ‘Yes, fine. Okay. I do. But that's not how this will work, I just want to get rid of… this. All of this.’
‘So… Letter,’ George offered again.
‘Yes. Letter.’
Max stared between them for a long time. ‘You'll both die without fucking.’
Kimi groaned as George laughed, ‘Why so grumpy, Maxie? Is Charles holding out on you?’
Verstappen spun around dangerously, and although Russell did not appear too scared, Kimi knew danger when he saw it.
‘Max,’ he called. ‘It's not like that.’ And he shrugged. It wasn't, to be fair. No matter how he wanted it to be.
‘Fine. But burn that shit, then. Don't be stupid.’
And with those words of wisdom, Max Verstappen left the garage he wasn't supposed to be in in the first place, leaving behind a satisfied George and a slightly confused Kimi.
☆☆☆
Three missed calls from Kimi had Ollie Bearman frowning at his phone. It wasn't that Kimi calling him was unusual, nor the spamming, precisely, but rather how it had been spaced out in time. When Kimi got in one of his moods, frantically moving around, unable to stand still, the calls came in one after the other, and when Ollie picked up, his friend would speak his brother's English so rapidly that it would be nearly impossible to understand. Or, well, nearly impossible for someone else to understand; Bearman never quite had a problem with understanding Kimi, it would seem they were both stuck in the same frequency, probably connected in bpm's as well, and one pointed look or arched brow was enough to transmit what could only be classified as complicated phrases.
That time, though, Kimi had called him earlier in the night, and not sent him any messages following Ollie's lack of response - a clear red flag, Andrea would never lose an opportunity to curse him for his lack of attention in his phone - and then three hours later, already deep into the night. The time wasn't unusual either; Kimi had always been a restless sleeper and would text Ollie throughout his insomnia-filled nights. Except the last call was definitely suspicious. Seven thirty in the morning.
Ollie stared at it silently, still sitting on his bed, morning light filtering through the hotel's curtains as he tried to turn his brain on completely. The weekend hadn't been his best one, and his car seemed to disagree with him in every single damned corner. Oliver had gotten back to the hotel, taken a long shower, and thrown himself in bed, ready to forget it all. Plus, they were supposed to leave rather early to go back home, so sleeping early should have been everyone's goal.
Except, apparently, Kimi's. Whenever the insomnia hit, he would roam around and find the most random things possible to do - once Ollie caught him elbows deep into a weirdly shaped puzzle, and although there was nothing inherently wrong with a puzzle, Kimi Antonelli was not the kind of person patient enough to complete one like that. He was a wild hurricane, going from one corner to the other. The only time Bearman could think where Kimi managed to turn off his brain and stop fidgeting was inside his Mercedes. It had probably everything to do with how insanely good a driver he was.
Though the thing about Kimi's lack of sleep - mostly after a race weekend, it was as if the energy in his body grew and grew and grew inside that car, unlike every other driver ever, who kept getting more and more tired, and by the end, he had nothing to do with so much energy - was how right as the sun started to come up, he would crash down. Fall asleep wherever he was, just dozing off completely.
And yet, he had called Ollie at seven.
The phone hadn't even rang twice before Kimi picked up, Ollie had to hide his sigh of relief. One God knew where unsupervised Kimi Antonelli could get to when in an insomnia-driven rampage.
‘Mate! Finally! Where were you?’ Kimi nearly shouted at the phone, making Ollie cringe on the other side. God, it was early. Too early to exist. Okay, alright, it was nine A.M. but Ollie felt justified in his urge to spend the rest of his days on that comfortable bed, drifting on and off sleep.
‘Sleeping,’ he offered, his yawn coming on time.
‘All this time?’ Kimi wondered, a tidbit of annoyance in his voice.
Ollie couldn't help himself, he smiled. ‘Yes, Kimi. Most people sleep through an entire night.’
‘Most people are boring and know nothing of skinny-dipping.’
He started to laugh. Then, the words registered. ‘What?’ And even Oliver cringed at how strong his accent came out. Kimi giggled on the other side; he was getting to the delirious part of the insomnia. Ollie knew that part quite well; it was where the stupidest ideas were born, and usually when he was already up to stop it from spiraling out of control. ‘Don't tell me you're skinny dipping.’
‘No. Not skinny, I guess. Just dipping. You should come, it's fun.’ And then he laughed loudly. ‘I mean–’
Oliver laughed, amused, gathering up his courage to get up and walk to the window, cringing slightly when he pulled the curtains open and stared down at the hotel pool, ‘Nah, mate. You should get out of the pool.’
Kimi groaned. ‘How do you even know I'm in the pool?’
‘I can see you through my window. Get out, our flight leaves in three hours and I bet you haven't packed.’
Kimi wasn't only a late-packer but a rather lousy one. He simply went around, throwing shirts and shorts randomly at the luggage and then sitting on top of it to close it. That had resulted in many forgotten clothes in the past, alongside weekends he hadn't anticipated the colder weather and had rummaged through Ollie's things to get a sweatshirt. Like he wasn't a damned millionaire who could buy his own shit.
‘No, Ollie,’ Kimi said, in a condescending tone. ‘Your flight leaves in three hours. Mine leaves in…’ There was a heavy pause, and Ollie watched from above as Kimi checked his watch. ‘Two hours. A little less. Actually, I don't know, I'll call George now. Goodbye.’
And although Ollie yelled at him not to hang up, it was already too late. He groaned loudly, spinning around to find some clothes and go looking for his friend.
To be fair, in these last few weeks, Kimi had been acting more erratically than usual, at least with him. He would jump away every time Oliver got too close, refused to go to Bearman's room whenever he invited him for a quick gaming session, and outright refused to admit there was something wrong. It didn't matter how much he tried, Ollie could not, for the life of him, pinpoint exactly when things had changed, much less why. But Kimi, wild Kimi, funny Kimi, terrible-sleeper and packer Kimi, was still his friend.
Even when he would look at Ollie in a way, and the sun would hit his eyes just right to bring them from a dark oak color to a bright caramel one, and his stomach would do a funny jump. Because Kimi was pretty, and so it was normal to think so.
By the time Ollie got to Antonelli's room, Russell was already there, alongside Kimi, who was looking absolutely dead on his feet and grimacing at George.
‘But I didn't know!’ He argued, accent heavy, giving away his lack of sleep. Ollie smiled despite himself. Cute. But not in a weird way, of course.
‘I told you yesterday,’ George pointed out.
‘You didn't! You were too busy arguing with Max about the letter thing.’
George tilted his head, recalling their conversation from the previous night, apparently.
‘What letter?’ Ollie asked, smiling politely at George before laying a hand on Kimi's shoulder to steady him.
‘Hi,’ Kimi said to him, smiling brightly, slow blinks giving away how close he was to crashing down.
‘Are you drunk?’ George asked, and Ollie found the edge of disappointment in his voice deeply amusing. It was sweet how the older drivers seemed to take care of them, even when they were also legal adults.
Kimi didn't appear to find it as comforting as he did. He scoffed, ‘No, I'm not drunk. Also, mind your business.’
Right. So they were already on the grumpy part of the night. Or, well, day, he guessed.
George laughed, surprised. ‘Mate, what's happening?’
Kimi rolled his eyes but ignored the question, leaning heavily on Ollie's body. He pretended the warmth of the proximity didn't flood his body immediately. ‘He's tired. Haven't slept,’ Ollie offered George, seeing as Antonelli clearly wasn't going to explain it.
George hummed, amusement turning into something else in his face. ‘And you know that because…’
Ollie shrugged. Because he knew Kimi. Because he knew Kimi so bloody well, it didn't even cross his mind that there was nothing obvious about the situation. ‘I just do.’
‘George,’ Kimi called, sighing dramatically, ‘Tell Toto I'll be late.’
‘Kimi, you literally called me to make sure you wouldn't be late,’ Russell said, and Ollie smirked.
‘Yeah, but you can go. Ollie's here now.’
George winked at him and Kimi groaned. Ollie looked between the two of them, confused. ‘So you won't be late now?’
Kimi shrugged, ‘Yes, I will. Ollie lets me sleep. And then he doesn't wake me. I'll catch another flight home.’
‘No, mate. You're coming with us. Come on, I'll help you pack,’ George said, and Ollie nearly smirked at the mess he had put himself in.
Kimi groaned against Bearman's neck - he shivered slightly, probably because Kimi's hair kept dripping cold water on him. ‘He's making me pack.’
Ollie smiled, ‘Come on. You can sleep on the plane.’
Kimi gasped, ‘I cannot sleep on the plane. I don't sleep on planes. Planes are dangerous and my brain keeps going and going and going and I don't sleep!’
Except he would sleep, Ollie already knew, just by how long his blinks were taking, like he was holding himself back from falling asleep on his arms.
‘What happened last night, Kimi? You're usually in bed by five,’ he asked, as he set him down on his bed. Kimi immediately fell back, humming.
Pretty, Ollie thought, then kicked that thought to the back of his mind, because, really, what the fuck? You would think he was the one sleep deprived by how wild his thoughts were running.
‘I didn't know how to write the letter, so I called you. But you didn't pick up.’
Ollie decided to ask about this letter thing later, sighing at him, ‘Right, well, mate, I was asleep.’
Kimi grunted. ‘I wasn't.’
Ollie laughed and Kimi smiled at him. Sunlight streaked into the room, and he looked angelic like that, eyes clouded over, hair a mess, shirt glued to his slowly drying body. Kimi arched his back and sighed happily into the bed, and, for some reason, Ollie blushed at the sight. When he opened his mouth to say… something, another sound came from behind them.
‘Aren't either of you going to help me?’ George asked. Ollie startled, having completely forgotten he was there.
Kimi flipped him off in a very un-Kimi manner and Ollie nodded.
‘Yeah. Yeah, of course, I'll help.’
And as they slowly put the room back in place and packed Kimi's - and two of Oliver's sweatshirts he had found lying around - things into his luggage, Ollie thought he would immediately pass out. Except he didn't, for some reason fighting against sleep, eyes following Ollie around the room, heavy with sleep and something else. It made him clumsy, walking into the bathroom door twice in a row, the feeling of Kimi's eyes on him, something he was used to, suddenly heavier than he remembered. More importantly, it somehow carried something else this time.
Perhaps he was just overthinking things, and Kimi was tired, and he was tired, and they were both thinking weirdly that day.
Surely, that had to be it. Right?
‘Call me when you land?’ He asked Kimi as he left his hotel room, who blinked twice at him before nodding softly.
‘Ollie?’ He called out when he was already some steps away. He turned around and waited for what he knew was coming - every time, every morning or afternoon after Ollie found himself lingering around until Kimi was fast asleep, he would look at him with a quiet smile and murmur: ‘Thank you.’
And, as always, Ollie nodded and shrugged, because he didn't mind it, he would do it for the rest of his life if he could. Forever, if Kimi would let him.