Chapter Text
George stares up at the ceiling. He often finds he can’t sleep on race weekends. He blames it on the nerves, the desperate need to prove himself. But the stats show he’s done that, Mr Consistent, Mr Saturday, Mr Mercedes. He ignores that it’s definitely Max.
Okay, so George knows he loves Max Verstappen. Anyone who knows him knows he loves Max Verstappen, except Max himself. He’s always been like this with people he likes, he shouts and makes a scene of hating them, it’s the only way no one suspects him. If he makes a big deal of hating them, makes it obvious, people pick that narrative. It’s easier than admitting his feelings. It’s easier than telling people he’s gay. He’s always known. You don’t make it through a British secondary school while being gay, without realising that you are the big scary thing that everyone says you are. He isn’t allowed to be gay, not that his parents have a problem with it. They know. He hasn’t told them directly, but when they saw his ruffled hair and swollen lips after ‘watching a film’ with his childhood best friend, well, they got the memo. It’s that he’s a formula one driver, public eye and all. He races in countries where it’s illegal to be gay. So, as much as he wants to grab Max Verstappen, corner him into a wall and kiss him until his head feels light, he has to keep up the act of hating him.
But all the people who know him, really know him, know he loves Max. Alex figured it out quite quickly.
“Why do you hate him so much?”
“I just- he gets under my skin so much he’s so entitled, so full of himself. He’s good and he knows he’s good and someone needs to take him down a peg.”
“And that person has to be you?”
“Well it needs to be someone.”
“You haven’t even had a title battle. Mate, Nico and Lewis had less public drama.”
“Okay?”
“Oh my god.” Alex says, starting a tangent. “Have you seen how many people shipped Nico and Lewis?”
George’s face flushes slightly red.
“Dude I bet people ship you and Max.” Even more red.
Alex looked over, raising an eyebrow.
“You don’t… Do you?”
George just keeps walking
“You so do. Oh my god. George!”
And so George told him. Told him all about his big gay secret and his fat crush on Max. How he’s always been like this, about how his parents definitely know. Alex listened, laughed. He’s wonderful. He promised not to tell, knew what was on the line for George.
He just told Kimi. He asked George almost as soon as they met. Kimi's first tour of the factory after just being announced as George’s new teammate. He didn’t want to spend years pretending not to stare.
“So what’s your detail with Max?”
“What…”
“You two, you’re always… at each others throat and-”
“Just don’t like him”
“You sure?”
“Kimi, can you keep a secret?”
The younger nods, desperate to be included properly.
“I love Max. Like, romantically. And I’m telling you now because, frankly I do a lot of staring and I’m aware of it. He’s nice to look at, okay? But it goes without saying, you can’t mention it. I don’t want him, the media, or the several countries we race in where it’s illegal, to know.”
“Oh.”
“Oh indeed.”
Kimi never really brought it up again. He nudges George when he looks for too long. Pokes him when he laughs too hard at a stupid joke. They don’t talk about it. They don’t need to.
So he stares at the ceiling, thinking about how, honestly ridiculous, this all is. Why Max? Why men? Why this combination of occupation and identity? It’s all doomed, he thinks to himself as he drifts off.