Chapter Text
Autopilot mode: On
Lewis walks into the paddock. Carefully practiced smile that never reached his eyes, the wave of a hand to the fans fighting to catch a glimpse of him. It was all superficial to him. Of course, his fans meant the world to him, but at the top, nobody truly saw beyond the surface for him.
Years before, it was different. Walking onto the paddock, he would be laughing, a real laugh, walking beside a face he couldn't bear see now. Not because he forgot, he could never, but because he was scared. Scared that just imagining his eyes would rip open an old wound that never went away.
He could never forgive himself for that fateful year. The same year that Nico Rosberg had won the world championship, but most importantly, beat him. Instead of celebrating the win with his teammate, Lewis ran. He ran away before the shower of champagne rained down, a painful reminder of how he had lost to Nico.
What he hadn't seen, was Nico watching him run, his heart willing him to chase after Lewis, but he was held back, and the pop of champagne gradually drowned out the voice in his head telling him to follow.
That day, Lewis trashed his hotel room. He was fuming from the frustration of knowing that Nico had beaten him, seething with anger from when he had seen the smug look on the blonde's face as he held up the trophy. What he had failed to consider, was how his actions would affect the relationship between them, refusing to celebrate a friend's victory.
When the news broke, shortly after Nico received his champions' trophy, he announced his retirement. Lewis' eyes went wide. Nico didn't tell him, leaving him to find out with the rest of the people, with the people that didn't matter. Lewis typed a furious paragraph to Nico, his words dripping with poison and hate, angry at Nico for keeping the news of his retirement a secret, angry at Nico for walking away from their rivalry. It might have seemed like a win for Lewis, he no longer had fierce competition, but deep down, it felt worse than losing the championship. He deleted the paragraph, and never opened the chat again.
After 2016, Lewis and Nico never reconnected, but life on the paddock carried on.
It felt as if nothing changed at the start, the same media interviews, same autograph signing events, same races. Except for one change--teammates.
Valtteri competed against him, sure, but he never pushed Lewis hard enough. The red number 6 that had always been behind him, seemingly haunting him, was gone. Without that, nothing was really the same. The car was lightning fast, but Lewis' teammate just didn't match up. As the 2017 season progressed, Lewis' wins piled up, yet he still felt numb.
Wins used to feel electric, Lewis' heart drumming against his chest as he sped past the finish line, quickly followed by the other Mercedes. Podium celebrations were even better, sweet champagne sprayed on him as he showered his fellow podium drivers, usually with Nico. However, these days, it never feels the same. His heart still drums loudly as he crosses the line, the champagne still tastes sweet on his lips, but the exhilaration of beating his teammate, and the constant reminder that he could never let his guard down, lest he be overtaken in the next race by number 6, was gone.
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Nico's life after retirement was a stark difference, opting for family time and new hobbies. Nico spent his days at home playing with his elder daughter, something he hadn't had the time to do while racing. Vivian cradled their other daughter, their newest addition to the family. Nico never watched the races on the television in 2017, just heard through the news that Lewis had won.
Congrats on the win.
Was something that Nico wanted to say to Lewis, after all, he wasn't his rival anymore, and he could congratulate him without the scorn and pettiness that clouded his words. But they weren't friends anymore, Lewis' words, so the message was never sent.
Similar to Lewis, Nico's life felt unfulfilled. He had beautiful daughters with a loving wife, trophies decorating his shelves and enough money to live comfortably without ever having to work again, so why did his heart still ache at the sight of the racetrack? He hated that despite all he had, he was greedy enough to still want Lewis in his life, even after what he had done to him.
The fight for the championship had nearly killed Nico, tearing him down to the bone just to beat Lewis. He knew he didn't have any more in him after that year, and quietly resigned, telling only Toto before his announcement. Sometimes Nico wonders if he had continued racing, whether him and Lewis would still be friends? Would they have sorted out their differences and learnt to separate the racetrack from their friendship? Thousands of what-ifs plagued Nico's mind, and Vivian would often find him staring into nothingness, his eyes glistening with welled up tears that never fell.
Guilt tore Nico open, a part of him knew that his love for Lewis had remained even after years of rivalry and venom. Nothing could erase the number 44 etched onto his heart, his wife’s initials plastered over it, like a band aid covering up the gaping gash that will never disappear.
So for years after his retirement, his mind never really left the Mercedes garage, still stuck in the years when rivalry didn’t get in the middle of a bond so strong he had though it could never break.