Chapter Text
George had his Wednesday evening planned out already. Calm and quiet. A night in his Canadian hotel room. Eating whatever meal he could get from room service that fit in his diet plan, while scrolling on social media. All that got thrown away by a simple instagram notification.
lando
Sent you a post
???
George grabbed his phone, and opened the notification without really thinking about it… And he froze.
They were both 16 years old. It was just some summer fling, nothing more. George couldn’t even quite remember his name. Kevin? Kenny? Kylian? Something in K. They met at the pool, at that camping where their families were staying somewhere in France. Both their parents were praising how great friends they were. If only they knew. How they looked at each other. The stolen kisses away from anyone’s curious eyes. They both knew they couldn’t be caught. They also both knew that staying in contact after those vacations wouldn’t be easy. So, on the last day, they had allowed themselves one picture. A memory. A kiss under a tree in that one secret glade near the camping, that they had decided to be their secret spot. The tall weeping willow, the small lake behind them, and that last kiss before going back to the mobile-home packing their stuff.
And now that picture was there. On instagram. Posted by some fucking gossip account. George’s heart was beating out of his chest. He was frozen, except for the hand holding his phone, which was shaking. He could vaguely see more messages on his phone popping up, from Lando, other drivers, anyone really, but he didn’t really look. He staggered back, sitting heavily on the bed.
Everybody knew. Everybody knew what he was.
And he couldn’t be more mortified.
He flinched when his phone rang. Lando. George rejected the call, forcing himself to focus back on his phone.
lando
Who’s that guy?
???
George?
U okay?
Are you freaking out???
Dude answer me you’re freaking ME out rn
georgerussell63
I’m good, I’m good
Just need to process it
Don’t worry
lando
U sure? If you need anything tell me ok?
George didn’t bother to answer. He turned off his phone, and laid back on his bed. This fucking sucked.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
He didn’t show up to media day. He didn’t leave his room. He hadn’t turned his phone back on in the last 36 hours or so, or since he received Lando’s messages. He hated to admit it, but he was scared. Well, scared was an euphemism. He was absolutely terrified. Of the people’s eyes on him. Of their opinions. Of their judgment. So here he was now. Rolled up in a ball of anxiety, the curtains closed, the blanket of the bed wrapped tight around him. Like a cocoon, or a silly attempt to shield himself from the outside world. He would be lying if he said he didn’t cry. Of course he did. A simple picture from when he was 16 might’ve just ruined his entire career, because he wasn’t naive, he knew F1 was far from an accepting and open-minded sport. Him being outed… It couldn’t be good for his career. Toto probably called by now. Maybe. He didn’t know. He hadn’t dared to touch his phone. Since the picture was shared, he had been in a constant loop of freaking out, trying desperately to calm himself down, only to fail and freak out a bit more.
He didn’t quite know what time it was when he heard the knock on his door. It was morning, that was for sure, the early sunbeams gently breaking through the curtains, but he had no real idea of how early. He had half a mind to ignore the knocking. Play dead. He was halfway through hiding back under the blanket when he heard it.
“Open the door, Russell. We don’t have all day.”
… Max?
This stopped George in his tracks. Of all of the people he expected to be at the door, Max Verstappen was probably the last. A half of him still wanted to disappear and act dead, but… The other half was curious. Curious as to what Max had to say. As to why he was there. Was he there to tease? To mock? He sighed, and slowly pulled himself out of bed. He approached the door, and after a moment of hesitation, his hand shaking on the doorhandle, he slowly opened the door, and peaked outside.
The dutchman was standing there, wearing his redbull teamwear, which seemed to be the only thing the man had as clothing, his arms crossed over his chest. He raised an unimpressed eyebrow at George.
“You look like shit.”
George scoffed, opening the door a bit more. He himself wasn’t really dressed up, only wearing his boxers and a long shirt that covered him mostly, but his attire didn’t seem to bother him much at that exact moment.
“Fuck you, mate.”
“If you’re offering so kindly.”
Max said with a scoff, as he squeezed his way past George and into the room. He looked around, a small “tsk” escaping him, as he walked to the window, and pulled the curtains open, making George wince as sunlight burst into the room.
“Dark as hell in there. You need some sunlight at least if you’re gonna keep sulking in your corner.”
“I’m not sulking-”
“You’re in the dark locked up in your room, I call that sulking.”
George sighed deeply. He wasn’t in the mood for that.
“Why are you here?”
George’s voice was quiet, more than Max had ever heard him before. It was a kind of vulnerability that made George wince as he heard himself talk, and Max realised he had to thread carefully. George had his arms crossed head low, as if ashamed, unable to meet Max’s eyes. The dutchman would never admit it, but it broke his heart a little to see the other man like that. They were supposed to dislike each other, and to some extent they did. But this, this was above any animosity that was between them.
“Because I know how you feel. Well, to some extent at least.”
Max answered, his voice less teasing, more serious, as he slowly walked and sat on the bed. George scoffed, annoyance peaking through his tone.
“How could you possibly-”
“When I was 17 an ex friend of mine outed me to my dad.”
Those words stopped George right in his track, his head snapping up to Max. It was the other man’s turn to avoid eye contact.
“I took probably one of the worst beating I’ve ever gotten that day, but… Somehow the hits didn’t hurt as bad as the betrayal. As… The hatred. I mean, I’m not an idiot, I know my dad isn’t the most open minded, that’s why i never really planned on him knowing this part of me. But… It still hurt. A lot. To know that he knew. That he was judging. That he was disgusted. I know this doesn’t really compare to being outed to millions of people like that, but…”
Max looked up at the other man, and continued, his voice almost uncharacteristically soft
“I know it hurts. And I know it feels like the most hidden part of you got ripped open for the world to see. And I know people are shitty, especially online.”
He got up, and took two steps toward George.
“But you can’t hide forever. You’re gonna have to face it at some point. No amount of PR is gonna erase this picture from social media and from the people’s mind.. You can’t stay and rot in some hotel room. So hear me carefully.”
He approached some more, and flicked George’s chin, making the British man look at him in the eyes, his other hand going on his shoulder. The contact was unexpected, but surprisingly not unwelcomed.
“You’re gonna go out there. You’re gonna walk through the paddock. You’re gonna face people. You’re gonna be the arrogant prick you usually are.”
This caught a chuckle from George, which made Max scoff, a small grin breaking through his face, before he went back to serious, and continued.
“You need to keep going. Even if this sucks, even if this situation is hard. Alright? You can’t just hide and hope the problem solves itself.”
George sighed, lowering his head, as if considering it for a second, before he nodded. After a moment of silence, he whispered, unsure
“Why are you… telling me all that?”
Why are you trying to help me?
Max’s face softened just a bit, and he answered quietly
“Because even though you annoy the fuck out of me, you don’t deserve to go through this situation, even less alone.”
A moment of silence, then he added with a scoff
“And to be fair, you wouldn’t have had me showing up at your door if you had answered when people called you. Lando probably called you, like, 50 times when you disappeared, and me and Alex had a hard time keeping him from forcingly breaking into your room.”
George winced at that.
“Ugh. Yeah, I’ll… Turn my phone back on.”
Max grinned, and gently slapped George’s shoulder
“Good. Now get dressed. Put on some pants.”
George looked down at himself, and blushed. He was still in his boxers, after all. This was far from his usual classy outfits. Max chuckled, and walked to the door.
“I’ll wait for you outside and Ill drive you to the track-”
“Thank you.”
The words were quiet, but honest. Max looked back at the other man, his smile softening, and he nodded.
“No problem.”