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It was 17:45 in the UAE on the 5th of December, almost time for the last qualifying of the season. One for the books, they might say, determining the starting order for the title fight.
Mercedes had already bagged the constructor's title in Las Vegas, but the scene was set for the WDC title fight in Abu Dhabi. A fight that was going to go down between the two drivers of the Silver Arrows. It was coincidentally on the 10-year anniversary of the legendary Hamilton-Rosberg battle, which saw the latter retiring after winning the Championship.
✮✮✮
George Russell wasn't nervous. Not really. All he needed to do was qualify ahead of his teammate, but even if that didn't happen, he still had a chance. 12 points. That was Kimi's advantage in the standings. That was the difference he needed to achieve in the race tomorrow to reach his dream. It looked possible, but anything can happen in this sport (and it usually does).
This season was a constant up-and-down for George. The first half of it has definitely taken a toll on him. After his win in Australia, there was a series of unfortunate events. The safety car in Shanghai, the mechanical failure in Canada, his favorite circuit, the crash in Austria. He was unable to stand on the top step of the podium again until Silverstone, his first home victory.
That was definitely the positive burst he needed. He ended the European part of the season with two more wins in Spa and Monza, then triumphed again in Baku.
Things started going south again in Austin. He collided with Lando at the start, which forced him to retire after just three laps of trying to keep it together. Kimi went on to win the race, taking the Championship lead back again.
The triple header was also putting extra pressure on George, as well as on any other driver. Even double, let alone triple headers were exhausting, and this was the second one in a row, at the end of the season. The previous two weeks were rewarding at least: he finished P2 in Vegas, winning the WCC, and won in Qatar, putting him back on track for the WDC at the last minute. And he wasn't going to let this go. Not after all those years suffering in Williams, and as a second driver next to Lewis. He will try everything in his power this weekend.
✮✮✮
It was finally time for Q1. The lights went green, and George rolled out of his garage on used mediums from Friday. The first session's point wasn't to be the fastest, just to make sure he got into Q2. The asphalt was still scorching, so one outlap was enough to get the tires up to temperature.
"How does the car feel, George?" he heard Marcus's voice in his ear.
"Honestly, so far it's better than in the afternoon," the British man responded. He had some issues in FP3, but the team managed to fix the car with a few setup changes.
"Copy. Good, let's get some lap times in, we can do this!"
He had to abort his first attempt, due to the Audi of Nico Hülkenberg cruising on the fast line.
"What is he doing? Is he fucking blind, or what?" George shouted on the radio.
"I don't know, we've reported it," came the calm reply.
His next fast lap ended up being decent enough for Q1. 1:23.318. Not the best, but enough to make it safely through to Q2. The six cars out were Ocon, Bottas, Stroll, Hülkenberg, Perez and Gasly. The Frenchman's performance had been disappointing compared to his young teammate's this year. George pulled into the pitlane, stopping in front of the turquoise garage. The pit crew put a set of new softs on his car, keeping another one under the blankets for Q3.
He finished Q2 in first place, though only a few hundreths ahead of his teammate. The nice result gave George hope for Q3, and a possible pole position. Maybe too much hope.
He immediately felt something was wrong when he reached Turn 4 on his outlap, his new set of softs not behaving how they should while warming up.
"What's up with these tires? Something isn't alright," he spoke on the radio.
"I don't know, we're looking at it, everything looks normal on the screens," he got the pit wall's reply.
Great. It was just great. His tires feeling off, with probably no real cause other than his senses. He already knew this result won't be as good as he had wanted, and of course it had to happen in what is essentially the most important qualifying session of his life.
Nearing the end of Q3, extracting as much from the car and the weirdly behaving tires as he could, George was sitting in P2, with his teammate almost a tenth of a second ahead of him.
"Okay George, there's still time for one last lap, " Marcus spoke on the radio. "You've got to push now, we can do this."
Crossing the line, George nodded to himself in the car, and focused on the track with all his power. In the end, that wasn't enough, a small slip-up prevented him from going quicker than his previous lap time.
"Okay mate, you're still in P2, but I see Piastri, Leclerc and Hamilton still on push laps. Let's just wait and see what they end up doing, " his engineer said as George was pulling into the pitlane.
He sat in his car, anxious, waiting for the three drivers to finish their laps.
"What is it? " he asked when the silence had been stretching too far.
"Leclerc didn't manage to advance, but Hamilton is P2, Piastri is P3. P1 for Kimi, you're starting 4th."
Fuck. All he needed was two quick drivers between him and his teammate. His teammate, who was ahead of him in the standings, and who was now starting on pole.
George felt his chance slip away, as well as felt his frustration pile up. This couldn't be fair. It is again him with the issues, and the Italian with the pole position. He was about to press the radio button and say something about the team sabotaging him, but decided not to, given that he was too tired to listen to another one of Toto's "how to be good teammates" speeches. Even more so, the fact that it was Brocedes's one decade anniversary definitely made the Austrian especially aware of his drivers, so the speech would've been even more feisty than usual.
✮✮✮
It was nearing 10 pm when George finally got to leave the track after media and team debrief. He was sick of repeating the same thing: no, he doesn't know what happened; yes, the tires felt off in Q3; yes, he will try everything he can tomorrow.
He just needed to have a shower and collapse into bed. Alex Albon's, preferably.
His relationship with Alex was a weird one. No, they weren't dating, no matter what Lando kept saying over and over again. It's just that they have been best friends for twenty years, sharing a paddock for the better part of that, and somewhere along the road, they grew to understand each other in a way that nobody else could.
They have been there for each other as long as they can remember.
Alex had been there for George at the start of their carreer, when they barely even knew each other. He had put in a few words about the younger to his karting team, and in the following year they signed George, making them teammates for the first time.
George had been there for Alex when his mom went to prison, leaving him to manage a household with his younger siblings.
Alex had been there for George throughout his struggles in Williams, unable to score a point for almost two years.
George had been there for Alex in 2021, when he lost his F1 seat, having been demoted to being Red Bull's reserve driver. At the end of the year, he didn't leave Williams alone until they signed Alex to fill the seat vacated by him when he left for Mercedes.
And Alex had been there for George this year, when he had to endure a series of misfortune and disappointing results after he was deemed the favorite for the title too early in the season. George fully believed Alex's support, his hold (both physical and emotional) was what got him trough the season. Without his best friend, he wouldn't have been anywhere near the front of the field, let alone a title contender.
George was distracted while walking out of the paddock, thinking about the upcoming events of Sunday. Did he really have a chance to win it all? Mathematically, maybe. Theoritically, anything can happen. But actually? He doubted it a little.
He would need to show exceptional driving skills to actually be able to pull this off.
He was starting on the second row, on the dirty side of the track. Next to him, in P3, it was his ex-teammate, Lewis. Oscar was ahead of him. And on pole, the guy who might as well replace him as Mercedes's number 1 driver, Kimi.
The Italian's race starts had got a lot better since the beginning of the season, when he had been losing lots of positions on opening laps. Now George couldn't rely on Kimi messing up the start. Even if he did, the two drivers between them would be out for blood, given that Ferrari and McLaren were still fighting for P2 in the Constructor's Championship.
George felt his hope and confidence slip away minute by minute as he kept thinking about the race.
If Kimi became champion before him, that would destroy him. Both the personal impact, his feelings, and the outside opinion too.
Mercedes would go on to prioritise Kimi over him, taking away the well-earned spot as the senior driver. If he could even keep his seat, that is. He had a possible contract renewal for next year, which depended on his performance. If he loses to his 20-year-old teammate, the team might as well drop him.
The media would also be deadly. They would pick him apart, trying to find reasons to why an 8 year younger guy could beat him in equal machinery. In the end, they would blame him for everything, saying he isn't a good driver, not worthy of staying at the team.
George blinked, surprised to see he was already at the gates. God, he needed to get out of his head. He knew tomorrow would only be worse if he kept thinking about it, but he couldn't help it. Winning a Formula 1 world championship had been his dream ever since he learned what it is. He couldn't have it slip out of his hands at the last moment.
The only solution he could think of was definitely Alex. The Thai driver had his way with words, never leaving George alone with his thoughts for more than a few minutes at a time.
Well, at least Mercedes and Williams accidentally booked rooms in the same hotel.
On the way, he pulled his phone out in the taxi to text Alex. He got the reply almost immediately.
Georgie
Hey! Are you free right now?
Lex
heyyy
sure
i'm in room 345, come over
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Upon reaching the building, George went to his room to put his things down and shower quickly. He didn't bother with bringing a change of clothes, he was going to end up wearing something of Alex's anyway.
Their clothes-sharing habit hadn't been intentional in the beginning.
It started back in their karting era, when one of them was cold, or didn't have a clean set of clothes, so the other lent him something.
At first it started innocent, forgetting to return something, then it turned purposeful, and now Alex and George basically shared a wardrobe.
It kept happening outside of races and shared hotels too. They lived barely an hour away from each other, so they kept sleepovers and hangouts that turned into sleepovers in the end anyway frequent. The latter almost always resulted in one of them wearing the other's clothes after showering, and in the morning.
Now they didn't bother with keeping track of what belonged to who when they bought it, they just put on any clothes that was in the wardrobe closer to them at that moment.
✮✮✮
After a quick shower, George left his room and headed towards the elevator. He pressed the 3rd floor button. While he was waiting, he looked at his face in the mirror. He could see the exhaustion in the way his eyes were dim, the circles dark underneath them. When he arrived, he looked around to find hallway number 4, knocking on the 5th door.
When Alex opened the door, he didn't even look surprised to see him there so soon after he'd texted. He just smiled at George, and stepped aside to let the younger in.
The sight of him in Alex's doorway had become a regular thing between them by now. They had agreed to seek comfort from each other after a shit qualifying or race. They both learned the hard way that bottling their feelings up wasn't the way to go about this.
When George stepped into the room, he immediately walked over to the bed and collapsed onto it, face burried in a pillow. All the make-believe confidence that had held him up this evening disappeared in a blink of an eye.
"Rough night, huh?" Alex asked as he closed the door.
George didn't even speak, just hummed in lieu of a reply.
"S'okay," the older sat down next to him, running a hand over his shoulder. "I think you can pull this off tomorrow."
They didn't know when it happened, but somewhere between sharing beds as children and holding onto each other in crowds, physical touch had become a base component of their relationship.
It wasn't sexual, never that, Just that sometimes there was no greater source of comfort in the world than your best friend of twenty years. Especially when he understood exactly what you're going through, because he was going through it too.
"Could I?" George asked, voice muffled by the pillow.
"Yeah," Alex answered without hesitation, his hand still skimming over George's back in circles. "I believe in it. I believe in you."
"But he's much faster. I'm nowhere near him, especially from fucking row 2," George said, broken and tired. He didn't need to specify who, Alex knew he was talking about Kimi.
The older immediately understood something was wrong. George never compared himself to anybody, especially not his teammate.
"Georgie, look at me," he asked the younger, his free hand coming up to cup his cheek.
George lifted his head just enough to look in Alex's eyes, and the older could see the tears glistening in them.
"Hey, no, come here." He shifted them until he was sitting against the headboard, George sitting half on him, his face buried in the crook of Alex's neck. He wrapped his arms around his best friend tightly.
The warmth of the familiar embrace was what caused the dam to break. Hitched sobs broke free from George's chest, tears soking Alex's T-shirt, hands coming up to clench into the fabric.
He tried to speak between gasps for air.
"Lex, I'm not- I can't lose it, I just, I thought I had it, but then- there was-"
"Hey, shhhh, don't speak" Alex tried to quieten him. "Now just cry it out, we'll talk later. I'm here."
They sat there like that for what could've been ten minutes, two hours, a day. Alex didn't care. Nothing mattered, as long as George was in a state like this, Alex just wanted to help him.
It was absurd, really. Listening to the faint sounds of the Imagine Dragons concert outside somewhere, while he had one of the championship contenders falling apart in his arms from the pressure of the title fight.
The people performing in these concerts were the ones who came to races for clout, they never cared about the drivers.
Alex kept switching between running a hand through George's hair, and whispering sweet nothings into his ear. Occasionally, he pressed a soft kiss to the younger's temple, or in his hair.
It took George quite a while to calm down. His sobs came in waves: sometimes he could barely breathe, sometimes it slowed, then it started again.
He tried to ground himself in everything that was Alex. The comforting arms around him. The fingers combing trough his hair. Alex's voice, though he couldn't make out what he was saying. He could swear he also felt kisses against his temple, but he was too occupied with crying to be sure.
After a while the sobs seemed to subside enough for George to speak without the interruption of gasps, so Alex asked "Wanna talk about it? Or do you want me to just take your mind off of it?"
"Honestly, I don't know, " George murmured. "Talk a bit, maybe, " he said and shifted just enough for his voice not to be muffled by Alex's shoulder. He kept his head on the collarbone with the familiar scar, though.
"Alright. What's on your mind?"
"I don't know what I should do. Kimi is flying, again, while I'm in P-fucking-4." Alex didn't interrupt him, just showed his support by his hand drawing idle patterns on George's arm. "I feel like they're sabotaging me. The entire year, it's been like this: he's perfect, and my car has issues. Once, maybe it's okay. But not every second race. I can't believe it."
Alex still didn't speak, just kept caressing George's arm, knowing he still had things to get out of his system.
"It's just fucking unfair, Lex. I've been here for five years, playing number 2 to Lewis. And when it's my time to shine, this guy comes and they all act like I'm not even there. I feel like Marcus and Aleix are the only ones who are aware I'm there, the rest only care about their prodigy," George scoffed.
"Yeah, I get it. But I've got you, I see your worth," Alex answered softly. No 'it doesn't matter' or 'it's okay', because it wasn't. Just quiet reassurance in the chaos of it all.
"I know. And I'm so thankful for that." George said. He reached for Alex's hand and squeezed it. "Now, how about the taking my mind off of it? Tell me about your day."
Alex chuckled at the change of topics, and squeezed George's hand right back. "Well, P12. It's the best this shitbox of a car can reach."
Even though it wasn't the shiniest of results, Williams did improve a lot since Australia. They've come all the way to P7 from the back of the field, passing Cadillac, Aston Martin, Audi, and Racing Bulls. They struggled with the overweight car, but their after-summer-break upgrades finally allowed them to compete.
"Well, at least it's better than P20, " George laughed, to which Alex nodded along, also laughing.
"Okay, enough about racing. Do you want to go out to eat or room service?"
"Definitely room service. And a shitty reality show too," George said as he was already reaching for the menu on the nightstand, other hand still in Alex's.
It had become their habit to put on some stupid reality or quiz show on while they ate, focusing on that instead of the stress of their lives.
They flipped through the overpriced menu, and ordered definitely-not-trainer-approved burgers for dinner.
While waiting, Alex turned the TV on, and there it was: Love Island was on air on their designated distraction channel.
George just slumped back into him, hand never loosening, and turned his attention towards the screen.
When their food arrived, they ate on the bed, bantering about nothing and everything. The show was as meaningless as usual: a girl named Lucy was trying to decide between two guys, but she couldn't.
✮✮✮
It is true what they say: time goes by very quickly in good company. It had been past midnight already when George realised they were still watching the TV, wrapped up in each other, food long past finished.
"Hey, Albono?" He whispered, voice barely audible.
Alex only hummed to signal that he heard him.
"It's a quarter to 1. We should go to sleep."
"You're staying here, yeah?" He asked it as a question, but George didn't think he really had a choice.
"'Course I am," he answered in a heartbeat. It was never difficult to agree with what Alex wanted, especially if there was cuddling involved.
George gently unwrapped himself from Alex's arms, and stood up to collect their plates. He put them on the room service cart, and looked back at his friend, who still lay on the bed.
"Don't you want to brush your teeth?" Alex covered his face and groaned at the thought of having to get up, bur he followed George to the bathroom anyway.
They brushed their teeth side-by-side, occasionally poking each other's side, and making faces in the mirror. (Yeah, totally 30-year-old men behaviour.)
George could sense that Alex was doing all of this to direct his roaming thoughts away from the championship, and he was eternally grateful for that. Because, even if just for a few hours, but it worked. He realised he hadn't thought about tomorrow even since he'd stopped crying.
Something must have shifted in his expression, because Alex noticed it immediately.
"What?" He asked, holding eye contact through the mirror.
"Nothing, just... Thank you. For tonight," George said, turning around to look directly at Alex.
"You're welcome, Georgie. Always. You've done this for me too many times to count, it's my time to repay you." He caressed George's cheek. They smiled fondly at each other for a few seconds, but then they realised they were standing in the bathroom, already losing out on sleep. They quickly washed their toothbrushes, and left for the bedroom.
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Alex lay back on the pillows after turning the lights off. George climbed half on top of him, resting his face once again in the familiar crook of the older's neck. One hand came up to splay out against Alex's ribs, the other staying pressed between them. Alex wrapped his arms around his best friend, slipping his fingers into the hair at the nape of George's neck.
They stayed like that for a few minutes, letting the comfortable silence surround them, poke into their armors, make the day's, the season's stress leak out of them. This part was always so relaxing, doing nothing but listening to each other's heartbeats, in a perfect embrace.
Alex's hand kept moving against George's scalp, carding through the soft curls.
"Hey," he whispered in the dark, sounding sincere.
"Yeah?" George whispered back.
"I want you to know something. I believe in you. I'm with you, no matter what comes tomorrow. I'll always be by your side, like how we've been since forever." His hand never stopped caressing George's locks. "I know how hard this is for you, more stressful than anything you've ever done. But I need you to know we're in this together, so if you need anything, text me immediately. Words, a hug, anything. Not just tomorrow, but that's what the focus is on now. I believe you can do this.
George couldn't help it, tears flooded his eyes as he listened to his best friend's words. His best friend, his other half, his favorite person in the world.
He raised his head to look at Alex in the dark. Now it was his turn to caress the older's cheek.
"Lex. You have no idea what this means- what you mean to me. I'm so grateful for what you've done for me this year. Sometimes I feel like I don't deserve you."
"Hey, no, don't say that," Alex covered George's hand with his own. "You've been there for me through everything. My mom, the appendicitis, the whole shitshow that was Red Bull. This doesn't even come close to returning the favor."
"Still, thank you so much."
"S'okay. Now go to sleep, big day tomorrow, " Alex smiled at him.
George gave in with a grin of his own, and lay his head back to where it had been.
"Good night, Albono."
He felt a kiss against his hair.
"Good night, Georgie."
And yeah, tomorrow might just be the most important race of George's carreer, but right now he couldn't care less. There were still at least 16 hours until that, and he planned to spend at least the first half of that in the safe, warm cocoon of his favorite person's embrace.
He buried himself further into Alex, and fell asleep a few minutes later, listening to the other's steady heartbeat.
That night was the best George Russell has ever slept right before a season finale in his entire life.