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1.
Lewis did not grow up with many friends.
Sure, maybe it was due to karting and never staying in the same place for too long but it would have been nice to have friends, right? Lewis can smile and laugh with the other boys who competed alongside him, talk about interests and the race, but he would most likely never share anything more than a conversation or two before moving on to the next country, the next group of young boys just like him, the next karting competition.
And, of course, sometimes it wouldn’t be Lewis’ fault at all if he did not find any friends to talk to. Motorsports was predominantly white, with kids from all over the world competing, yeah, but mostly white, never black. It also didn’t help that most families with kids in karting were rich, had the opportunities and money to waste on their son’s new hobby or aspiration. Lewis was not white, and he was not rich. Lewis’ family was hardworking, his dad spent everyday working twice as hard as everyone else, but their money would run out twice as fast.
He knows what the parents of the boys in karting would sometimes say under hushed whispers, or swift hisses, a bad ‘judgement’ call; Lewis won that race because he’s black, he has something to prove, he wants it more than their boys because he’s black, or maybe, Lewis crashed out because he’s poor, he can’t afford what their sons can, and because he’s black, he doesn’t belong on that track, it was not made for him, for people like him.
When Nico approached him after a race, fire in his eyes and a wide grin, like all the other boys who had approached Lewis that day to congratulate him, Lewis had expected a forced handshake, forced smiles and a hesitant pat on his back. Lewis knew who he was, obviously, because he had Rosberg in big, bold writing splayed across the back of his racesuit and his dad would always be at races. Lewis would expect nothing more than false sportsmanship.
That never came, though. Instead, Nico came to Lewis, helmet in hand, and his smile growing even wider in… adoration? Excitement. “Wow!” He exclaimed, a heavy German accent accompanied it. “That was… Wow! Du bist… Wow!"
Despite the broken English and the long, thoughtful pauses, Lewis couldn’t fight back the wide smile that spread across his face to mirror Nico’s. “You really think so?” He asked.
Nico nodded enthusiastically, a smile still present as he quickly turned his head to look over his shoulder. When he looked back at Lewis, a hand came reaching out to grab his tightly. Nico tugged lightly. “Kommen!”
So, that’s how Lewis ended up here, on this too-big yacht and on a too-expensive holiday his dad could only ever dream of being able to afford– all because Keke Rosberg’s son took a chance on a poor, black boy one sunny day in Italy. And now, Lewis can say proudly that he has a friend.
As Lewis tilts his head to stare down at Nico, his blue, gleaming eyes staring right back at him, crinkled with a smile, Lewis can say he has a friend.
They’re both lying down on Lewis’ bed, too exhausted to continue playing anymore video games even though Nico insisted they could ‘most definitely do this all night long!’. Nico rolls his neck, stray wisps of his blond hair falling almost perfectly over his face as he turns back to Lewis.
“I think you will be a brilliant driver,” he voices out softly, one of his hands coming to rest on his slightly-exposed stomach, his shirt raised a little above where it was supposed to be.
Lewis rolls his eyes. Their conversations would always revert back to racing, after all, it’s how they’re here together in the first place. It’s their most loved similarity, something they think can never be pried away from them. “We will both be,” he replies.
Nico smiles but shakes his head. He rolls onto his side to look at Lewis better, the hand on his stomach being placed between their heads. His fingers twitch slightly. “But you, you will be beautiful. No?” Nico mutters, always honest to a fault. “I think you’ll make it.”
It almost makes Lewis scoff, because if any of them drove beautifully, it was Nico. If Lewis ever were to crash out too early during a race, his only source of composure would be to keep his eyes on Nico’s kart instead, and he drives devastatingly well with practised ease. It would make Lewis jealous, for sure, if Lewis did not quietly cheer for him off track– because, surely, if Lewis was not going to win, it had better be Nico.
“We both will, Nico,” Lewis assures him. “We both will make it and compete against each other, just like in karting, just like now.”
Nico huffs, clicking his tongue. “What if I make it and you do not? Will we still be friends?” He asks. Nico manages to come up with some stupid scenario every single time they talk about their futures, and Lewis would always respond in the same encouraging manner.
“Always,” he lets roll off his tongue. Lewis turns on his side to face Nico, his hand now dangerously close to his. “What about if I make it and you don’t?” He echoes lightly.
A wide, cheeky smile creeps onto Nico’s face, eyes rolling off to the side. “Well.” He drags out, teasingly.
Lewis feigns irritation, gasping out a “Nico!”
Nico bursts out laughing, hand gently nudging Lewis’ shoulder. “I am joking! Joking!” He clarifies, as if Lewis did not already know. His hand nearly touches Lewis’ when he places it back down between them. “How could I ever get rid of you, Lew?” He hums.
Lewis chuckles. “Damn right.” He says firmly. “You love me too much.”
The laugh that leaves Nico’s lips now is one of surprise. “Oh, I love you now?” He repeats, raising an eyebrow.
“Course you do, mate,” Lewis replies with a toothy grin. “Cause I love you like that, too.” It comes out easier than breathing.
Lewis knows he loves Nico. His mum always told him that there is no stronger feeling than love, and Lewis holds Nico in the highest regard, above almost anyone– so, surely that is love, right? When Lewis is back in England, he still thinks of Nico and the next time they’ll see each other. Nico is the truest friend, and Lewis loves him for it.
But Nico doesn’t seem convinced, his smile faltering. “Boys cannot love each other,” he says. It makes Lewis furrow his eyebrows and shake his head.
“Sure they can,” he confirms, more earnest than ever. “I love you, don’t I?”
Nico groans, hands coming up to cover his face. “Stop saying that, you weirdo.”
Lewis laughs as he notices Nico’s ears turn to a shade of bright pink. Why is he so embarrassed by the confession, he wants to ask, but instead resorts to annoying him. “I love you, Nico,” he teases.
Nico shoves him away playfully. “Du bist ekelhaft,” he grumbles out, but Lewis can see how hard he’s trying not to laugh even if he’s covering half his face still.
Lewis has been picking up on certain German words now and again due to being around Nico and his family so much, so even though he knows what the words mean, he decides not to take it to heart. “You’re my best friend, mate,” he says, his tone is softer this time and there’s no tinge of mockery in his voice, “of course I love you.”
Nico stills for a moment, his shoulders deflating with a sigh and his hand coming away from his face. “I love–”
“Nico! Komm jetzt her!” Keke yells from another room, startling the two boys as Nico quickly presses his mouth shut, eyes widening. It quite rudely disturbs the world they’ve created for themselves in their little room, but Lewis doesn’t mention it.
Lewis grins at Nico, who catches a glimpse of it before he’s suddenly pushing himself up off of Lewis’ bed and stretching his arms out. “I bet he’s going to make you take out the rubbish again.”
Nico shoots him a glare as he straightens his shirt out. “Arschgesicht,” he mutters under his breath, but it’s loud enough that Lewis is sure he intends him to pick up on it.
Lewis lifts himself up on his elbow and laughs, throwing his head back “Hey, I know what that means, Nico!” He replies smugly.
Nico rolls his eyes, quickly grabbing a pillow from his own bed and chucking it at Lewis. “Only because you are one, Arschgesicht!” He smiles.
His dad has seemed to grow impatient though, as he shouts out again for him. “Nico!”
Nico groans as Lewis goes to settle back down on the bed. “Ich komme!” He shouts back, looking at Lewis one last time over his shoulder before leaving the room. Lewis smiles back at him.
2.
It’s the summer holiday, Lewis is visiting his parents, and Lewis is incredibly bored. He has messaged Nico non-stop over the phone about playing some old video games together but he hasn’t gotten a single response. He’s not sure why until his dad is bursting into his room.
The sudden intrusion makes Lewis jump up from his bed, as if he was doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing. He’s about to ask his dad if anything was wrong but his dad is already putting his phone screen in front of Lewis’ face, messages with Keke on display.
Lewis furrows his eyebrows, eyes flicking all over the screen until a few words stand out to him. Nico, F1, debut. His jaw drops accordingly.
“Call and congratulate him, son.” His dad tells him, hand on his shoulder. He lets it rest there for a moment before Lewis’ own phone begins to ring and he takes it as his cue to leave.
As expected, it’s from Nico. Lewis lets it ring for a while longer so he can compose himself, think of the right words to say, swallow down the bile of jealousy coming up his throat and replace it with nothing but happiness and pride.
If it’s not you, at least it’s Nico, Lewis reminds himself. If it’s not you, Nico. Not you, Nico. It rings inside of his head as he presses the answer button down, bringing his phone close to his ear.
Nico’s voice comes screaming, interrupting every thought Lewis is still having. “Lewis!” He exclaims, and Lewis thinks he’s not too far from bouncing off the walls. He can hear Nico breathing heavily. “Lewis, you– I–”
Lewis bites down on his bottom lip before he allows a wide smile to spread across his face. “My dad told me the news, Nico!” He says, hoping he sounds every bit as excited as he needs to be. A part of him can’t bear to hear Nico say it, and it makes him feel so guilty he almost throws up.
“They want me!” Nico says. This was inevitable. The son of Keke Rosberg, a championship winner, not making it to F1 sounds insane, especially when Nico was brilliant in a car.
Lewis tries to keep his voice steady. “They do,” he replies softly. “An F1 seat, mate.”
How much harder will Lewis have to work to get there? How many sons of champions does he have to beat in races, over and over again? How much money can he let his dad lose over this? Why couldn’t Lewis be better? Why couldn’t Lewis be—
“Can you believe it?” Nico breathes out
Lewis huffs out a laugh. “It doesn’t sound like you do,” he teases but he also imagines that he’d probably react the same. 20 people in the world, and F1 chooses you, that’s just surreal to think about.
And, as if Nico couldn’t make what plagues Lewis’ mind any more unbearable, “I always thought… I thought that—It’d be you.”
Lewis scoots back on his bed, bringing his thighs up to his chest. “Why, man?” He asks. He tries to make it sound like what Nico was thinking was unbelievable. “You were made for this.”
Nico clicks his tongue. “But you were made for championships.”
Lewis closes his eyes for a few seconds, breath caught in his throat. “Maybe in a few years,” he mumbles.
“My dad says so.” Nico replies. His eyes snap open.
Oh.
Maybe Nico really doesn’t believe he got a seat before Lewis, and Lewis was sitting here wishing they were in opposite places when he really should be reassuring his friend– his best friend. It is as much Nico’s dream as it is Lewis’ to drive for F1, and there is nobody Lewis knows that deserves it more, yet he is sat here consumed with bitter jealousy.
Lewis thinks he’s a horrible friend.
“You have a seat,” Lewis reminds Nico, voice an octave higher. “You’re the best,” he tells him, because he’s not sure what else to say.
Nico sniffs. “I’m so nervous. And excited.” He says with a quiet chuckle. “Maybe more nervous.”
Lewis’ face softens, a small smile forming. “This was always going to happen, mate.” It’s all they’ve ever wanted.
“You think so?”
“I know it.” Lewis says firmly. His hand tightens on his phone momentarily. “I love you, man. Congratulations.”
“Danke, Lewis.” Nico replies. “Danke.”
Lewis laughs softly, shaking his head although Nico can’t see him. “Nichts zu danken,” he says in his butchered German accent. He knows Nico always finds it endearing when he attempts to communicate with him in his mother tongue.
Lewis can practically hear Nico’s smile over the phone, even if he isn’t sure what the next words mean. “Ich hab’ dich lieb.”
“I’ll catch you later,” Lewis responds with.
“Tschüss.”
Lewis spends the next year curled up on the sofa on Sundays, popcorn on his lap, with F1 playing on the TV screen, eyes always looking out for the same Williams car speeding across the tracks.
He remembers thinking that the camera always displayed Nico beautifully, in and out of his car. He’d later call to tell him that.
3.
Lewis was signed onto McLaren in 2007 and had a historic rookie season, which would ring true in the season after when he won his first championship. He would win it again in 2014, but he didn’t know that yet. Instead, he let Nico treat him out to dinner to celebrate the day after the afterparty, even though he had a pounding hangover and even though Nico had greeted him with reddened eyes and tear-stained cheeks at his hotel door.
They never talked about why Nico was so upset the day after Lewis won his first championship, and Lewis never used the fact that it only took him 2 years to win it against him when they would have petty arguments.
Lewis and Nico would always celebrate each other’s achievements, and Lewis has never been able to remember a time that would even compare with how stunning Nico looked the day he won his first race.
Lewis also can’t seem to remember when the look of adoration in Nico’s eyes after congratulating Lewis on another win would begin to change into something he couldn’t place, when bright smiles became false flattery.
But that shouldn’t have mattered for long, because when Lewis had signed onto race for Mercedes in 2013, Nico was the first one at his door with a chinese takeaway and a tight embrace.
Lewis pulled Nico inside with a hand still on his waist from the discarded hug, closed the door quickly and took the plastic bag of food out of Nico’s hand to place on the table nearby. “Mate! This is the best thing ever!” He exclaimed when he turned back to Nico, arms still outstretched so they could share another hug.
Nico laughed, wrapping his arms around Lewis’ upper back and pulling him closer. When they pulled away, they were both met with wide smiles and wild eyes. “It’s just like we–”
“What we dreamed of!” Lewis cut him off eagerly.
Nico nodded, one of the hands placed on Lewis’ back came sliding over his shoulder and rested on his chest. “I am so happy for you, man,” he said, fingers tapping lightly against him.
Lewis hummed. “Hopefully I can win more championships, huh?” He commented. McLaren hadn’t been giving him the results he wanted, especially because of Vettel and his stupid Red Bull, so it was good to have hope again, a chance to win with a new team.
Nico blinked up at him, eyes flashed with something Lewis couldn’t register. “Not if I beat you to it,” he responded, determined.
Lewis laughed, too happy to worry about whether or not that was meant maliciously or not. “Fuck, Nico,” he breathed out, hand squeezing the other’s waist to try and keep him grounded. “I can’t fucking believe it.”
“Me too,” Nico smiled. “It’s crazy.”
It had been a while since Nico had looked at Lewis like this for so long, eyes unmoving and smile unfaltering. “Fuck.” Lewis uttered again as he pulled Nico slightly closer so he could rest his forehead against his shoulder. “I love this,” he whispered, barely able to contain all the joy he was feeling. “I love you.”
Nico huffed, the hand still on Lewis’ back began to lightly scratch his shirt. “I hate when you say that,” he breathed out with a small, nervous laugh.
Lewis raised his head back up to stare at Nico. “I know you do. Why do you think I say it so much?” He responds with a teasing smile.
Nico rolled his eyes, bringing his other hand to rest on Lewis’ chest as well. He ran them softly over the creases of his shirt. “It’s so…” he sighed. “It makes me feel so…”
“Homophobic?” Lewis offered, grinning.
Nico lightly slapped him. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”
Lewis laughed, his head thrown back. “Sure,” he noted when he looked back at Nico. Nico, who… who looked so beautiful under the small light of Lewis’ entryway. He was practically glowing with his shimmering blond hair and mesmerising blue eyes.
Nico furrowed his eyebrows slightly, eyes flitting over Lewis’ face until they fell on his lips. Lewis watched it all with quiet curiosity.
For a second, Nico let his eyes linger, breath hitched. It felt like he was coming up for air when Nico finally let his eyes meet Lewis’, staring down at him expectedly. Lewis couldn’t fight the urge that overtook him to lean in, not when Nico made no move to push him away.
When Lewis kissed Nico for the first time, there weren’t any fireworks that shot off in his mind and the world did not turn and nothing felt different. In fact, when Nico started to kiss back, hands gripping tightly onto the front of Lewis’ shirt and not daring to let go, everything only just felt right, like this was supposed to always happen.
Nico eventually had to lightly push Lewis away so they could both catch their breaths, laughing when Lewis tried to lean in for more. His hand quickly shot up to press against Lewis’ chin to keep him back and he smiled. “Not homophobic,” he quietly clarified.
“No?” Lewis grinned, shaking his head.
“No,” Nico echoed before dragging Lewis closer again, more confident the second time around.
At a later date, Nico would tell Lewis that he threw up in the toilet that night. He’d do the same thing when Lewis won the championship in 2014, and on the night of his retirement– although, Nico wouldn’t tell him about the last one.
4.
2013-2016 should not have gone down the way it did.
At first, Lewis and Nico’s enjoyment of being in the same team was unstoppable. They would remain closer than ever, bringing joy to PR filming and sharing their friendship with people in the paddock.
But, Lewis would keep winning. Lewis won the championship consecutively after Vettel, and he just kept winning. Nico had needed to fight to stand out, Nico had used the illegal engine first, Nico had started this whole ‘rivalry’ first, Lewis would tell himself.
Nico was jealous. It was bound to happen. The same feeling overcame Lewis when it was 2006, but it eventually went away.
Nico’s jealousy did not go away, it only grew, and with it, so did Lewis’ anger and resentment. So, fine, Lewis pulled away from their friendship first, Lewis stopped putting in the effort to maintain their relationship, but Nico lit the flame.
The breakdown of their relationship was expected. When Lewis won the championship again in 2015, he spent the night pressing Nico down into their mattress knowing that this had to be the last time, that this was the last time, he would ever get to know Nico in this capacity ever again.
Lewis knew Nico was going to win the 2016 championship when they were only 3 races in. Nico had approached the 2016 season with a hunger Lewis had never seen before, but Lewis still knew Nico, so he knew 2016 was going to be his.
What Lewis did not know was that Nico was going to be retiring following his 2016 championship win. The announcement catches him off guard and possesses him with the most anger he had ever felt, so when he bumps into Nico on the way out of the FIA prize giving ceremony, all he sees is red.
Nico stops in his tracks when they run into each other, blinks, and then continues walking away. It only makes Lewis more furious, rushing to follow Nico. “Are you fucking serious?” He voices out when they’re mere inches away, fingers grasping onto Nico’s sleeve before Nico tugs it away harshly.
“Lewis, leave me alone,” he mutters, eyes brimming red in the way that Lewis’ was not. He sounds tired, so tired it almost makes Lewis flinch back and let him go, but Lewis just can’t let him leave like this.
He clenches and unclenches his fists, chest puffing out. “You can’t retire, Nico! You still have so much more left in you,” he begins to argue, not wanting him to start walking away again.
It seems to catch Nico’s attention because he’s now turning his body to fully face Lewis’, disbelief written all over his face. “Oh, I do? I do, do I?” He responds, eyebrows furrowing. “What do I have left in me? What is it?” Nico asks pointedly, breathing getting heavier, yet he doesn’t seem angry–not yet.
“I cannot do this to myself forever,” he sighs, taking a step closer to Lewis. “I cannot keep sacrificing things I do not even have anymore!”
It appears to hurt him when Lewis doesn’t say anything in response, mind struggling to come up with sufficient reasons for Nico not to leave. Nico huffs. “I will end up killing myself for a race win. You know it.”
Lewis begins to shake his head, frowning. “You’re giving up.”
Nico scoffs. “It’s my time.”
“No, it’s not.”
Nico groans, hands flying up to run through his hair exasperatedly. “You don’t get it, Lewis!” He exclaims manically. “You are a winner! You win and you will keep winning. I had to lose everything. You get to keep racing.”
He says it in a way that makes it sound like the both of them can’t have racing, like Lewis won the right to get in a car every weekend, like Nico is not good enough for it. It solidifies Lewis’ stance.
“No.” He says firmly.
Nico scrunches his face up, jaw dropping from incredulity. “No? What do you mean no?”
“Race with me,” Lewis presses. “Keep racing with me.”
“Why? So I can tear myself apart for you?” Nico replies, laughing coldly. “So you can beat me for one last time?”
“Because I love you!” Lewis cries out. The last thread of Lewis’ reason snaps. He can’t bear to watch Nico put himself in a box like this anymore. It’s inhumane. Nico’s eyes widen at the sudden declaration.
“I love racing with you, I love everything with you!” Lewis continues, hands gesturing wildly. He takes a moment to calm down his breathing, and all Nico can do is let him. “I love you, Nico. I love all the dark, shameful parts of you. I want your shame, and your hunger, and your anger. Nico, I want it all because I love you.”
Nico’s shoulders tense up. He begins to shake his head, eyes screwed shut. “You do not understand what that word means,” he mutters.
“Yes, I do,” Lewis drawls out. “Because I understand you,” he states firmly. “I know you in my marrow.” Nico is the only thing, aside from racing, that Lewis is so keen on. He has spent his whole life getting the chance to enjoy and suffer what it is like to know Nico. “Ich kenne dich.”
Nico’s nostrils flare. He pushes Lewis away roughly. “Fuck you.” He utters.
Lewis stills. “What?”
“Fuck you, Lewis.” Nico seethes. “You have made these last couple of years hell, you say we are not friends anymore, you– you do not know me. You don’t get to know me anymore.”
Lewis presses his lips together in a thin line, and he’s running out of things to say. “Do not retire.” He voices.
Nico tries his best to make himself appear stronger than Lewis, like all of his walls aren’t slowly crumbling down, like his voice is not shaky. “I cannot stand you,” he breathes out, shoulders slumping.
Lewis shrugs helplessly. “Ich bin in dich verliebt.”
All Nico can do is stare at him, trying to stomach his confession. He blinks his gaze away to look at the ground. Lewis refrains from reacting to the tear he sees dropping onto the concrete. “Lew–” His voice cracks and he clenches his fist.
Nico looks furious when he looks back up at Lewis, cheeks wet and jaw set in stone. “No.” He asserts, shaking his head out of frustration. “No,” he repeats, firmer this time. “You are fucked in the head.”
“You want to be smart with me, yes? You want to woo me in my own language?” Nico spits out, the palm of his hand roughly wiping the wetness of his cheeks. “Ich hasse dich.” He proclaims through gritted teeth. “Ich hasse.”
Lewis throws his head back in exasperation with nothing left to offer. He doesn’t know how to make Nico stay. “I learned German for you!” He shouts.
Nico scoffs coldly. “Then unlearn it,” he says. “Learn to let me go.”
“You don’t get to act like you were not at fault, too. You made me want to die.” Nico admits to him, and it kills Lewis. Nico shivers. “That is not love. Love does not drive you insane.”
Lewis furrows his eyebrows. “Yes, it does!” He tries. “That is exactly what love does, Nico, and I–”
“Stop!” Nico yells, hands flying up to cover his ears like a child. “Just stop it!” He cries out, infuriated. “You don’t know how to love anything!”
Lewis’ jaw drops slightly, taken back by Nico’s words.
Nico frowns, digging the knife deeper into Lewis’ hurt until it’s enough to keep him away. “I can think of nothing worse than being loved by you .”
They stay staring at each other for another beat before Lewis huffs out a laugh, the first breath of it dying on his tongue as he gasps for air. “I don’t want to be on my own.” He admits quietly.
Nico tries to offer a smile but it falls just as quickly. “You’ll cope.”
Lewis wins the next 4 championships.
He’s showered in champagne each time and he hoists the trophy up towards the sky, name etched into history, name alongside Schumacher as one of the greatest, and he hopes Nico watches him. He hopes Nico watches everything.
+1.
Lewis slumps his body down against the bar of the club, his head nestled in his arm as his other hand swirls his whiskey around aimlessly. Another year of no race wins, another year of losing his chance of winning his 8th championship. It’s painfully frustrating, and he can’t help but wonder if this is how Nico–
“Two Gin & Tonics please, mate.”
God, Lewis almost groans out. He screws his eyes shut, trying to drown out Verstappen’s stupid voice as he orders that stupid drink. It cannot be healthy to live off of Gin & Tonics and Red Bull, and yet it seems to help Max drive the car across the finish line in first place every God-forsaken weekend of the season.
When Lewis slowly lifts his eyes from the bar to the direction of Verstappen’s irritating laugh, he sees that he’s across the bar from him. Good, Lewis thinks, now if Max spots him, he can make a quick getaway.
Happy with the escape plan, Lewis goes back to resting his head down, but then another voice makes his ears perk up. He narrows his eyes.
“I don’t know why we always have to start with your favourite drink,” Charles, Charles of all people, suddenly comes into view. Lewis watches Max tip his head back with another laugh, eyes trailing down to the placement of Max’s hand on Charles’ waist.
Huh.
Max leans in closer to Charles. “Well, who was the race winner today, Charlie?”
Charles grins covertly, pushing at Max’s chest to establish some distance. “Is it also the same person who pisses me off every chance they get?” He asks innocently.
Max just smiles down at him softly, like Charles was the sweetest thing he’d ever seen. It makes Lewis want to throw up. Is this how they’re discrete in public places? Lewis has the right mind to stomp up to them and tear them apart until they’re on opposite ends of the room.
Instead, he stomachs down the rest of his sad whiskey and grimaces, sliding off the bar stool and stumbling to the bar on the other side of the club to get away from them. As his eyes wander for a good spot to claim as his own for the rest of his miserable night, they catch sight of familiar blond hair.
His feet are already moving to occupy the spot next to him before Lewis’ mind can even begin to think of what a horrible idea this is.
“Hey.” He greets when Nico realises just who is about to sit right beside him.
Nico smiles back politely, the same face he makes when he’s about to begin interviewing someone. It’s his PR-face, Lewis knows it better than he wishes to. “Hallo, Lewis.”
Lewis’ eyes wander down to get a glimpse of what Nico is drinking. Peroni, he assumes, because it was either always that or Guinness. They quickly flick back to Nico’s face. “Good race today, right?” He asks, establishing some small talk.
Nico hums, shrugging. “It could have gone better for you.”
Lewis clicks his tongue. “It never does anymore, it feels like.” He responds, suddenly wishing not to have started the conversation like this.
It ends quickly, though. Most of their conversations now do. “Hm,” Nico nods curtly.
“How are you?” Is the next thing to ask, so Lewis does. He also desperately wants to know, as if Nico would offer him any insight into his life at all.
Nico taps his fingers against the bartop. “Fine,” he answers as nicely as he possibly can. “And you?”
Lewis nods. “I’m alright, yeah.”
Nico inhales deeply, letting his eyes flit over Lewis’ facial features before turning away and having a quick sip of his beer. “Why are you here, Lewis?” He asks absentmindedly.
Lewis knows exactly what Nico is asking him, what he’s implying. Why are you here, with me? But Nico has built up too much professionalism to say that directly, so Lewis won’t do him the favour of answering it just like he wants him to. “To drink?” He responds with, resorting to treating Nico like there is no other answer. “Isn’t that why most people go to clubs?”
Nico narrows his eyes at him. “You don’t like drinking.”
Lewis smiles spitefully in return. “Well, you don’t know me that well anymore, mate.” He knows how much Nico has grown to hate that word, like it’s all he amounts to now, if even that.
Nico decides not to let his irritation show. “I guess not.”
“You’re growing out your hair?” Lewis points out suddenly, eyes fixated on it.
It reminds him of a younger Nico, happy and giddy, racing alongside Lewis and sharing each other’s victories. Lewis used to love running his fingers through his soft locks, teasing Nico on all the care and attention he puts into maintaining it before pressing gentle kisses to his temple and massaging all of his stress away.
Nico stares at him with something Lewis hasn’t seen for a long time; malice. Good, old Nico. “I just haven’t had it cut in a while,” he shrugs off.
Lewis puts his elbow up onto the bartop, resting his chin in his hand. “Don’t slick it back.” He misses the way it used to fall.
“You don’t like it?” Nico replies, feigning interest.
“I like it when it’s natural.”
Nico sighs. “K,” he breathes out before downing the rest of his drink, a droplet escaping down his chin. He turns back to Lewis, and all Lewis can look at is that stupid droplet and the way Nico’s lips glisten. “I’ll keep it in mind.” Nico grins, swiftly wiping his chin clean. “Later.”
Lewis’ eyes snap up, suddenly realising that he was leaving. “Nico–”
Fuuuuck.
Lewis is too drunk to chase after Nico Rosberg, Lewis is too drunk. He’s too drunk, and–
“Nico!” Lewis calls after him, bumping into a few strangers sneaking into the club as he steps out of the fire exit door behind Nico. His head is pounding horribly and he could really use a sip of water. “Nico, hey–”
Nico stops in his tracks. He’s still for a moment as Lewis approaches him, and then he groans out and turns on his heels to close the distance between them for him. “Why are you–” Nico huffs. “Why the fuck are you always around, Lewis?” He spits out, but then the more he looks at Lewis, the more they both feel stupid for allowing themselves to be in this position again.
Nico scoffs out a laugh, shoulders slumping. “Fuck, of course you’re here! You can’t just let me breathe without you,” he exclaims like everything was beginning to make sense to him.
Lewis furrows his eyebrows, shaking his head. “I wanted to say that–”
“Lewis.” Nico quickly interrupts him, placing a hand on Lewis’ upper arm and squeezing. “It was fine when you ignored me. I was glad you avoided me, yes? Don’t try to come back into my life.”
“I thought you wanted to be friends again,” Lewis brings up, referring to the countless interviews Nico has done where he has explicitly said that he wishes they could mend their relationship.
Nico’s gaze softens. Then again, there were also interviews where Nico has mentioned Lewis callously. “I won’t ever see my version of you again,” he mutters.
Lewis is definitely going to be sick.
“What about me now?” He decides to push on.
Nico rolls his eyes, his hand falling away from Lewis’ arm. “This is childish,” he states.
Lewis sighs. This is giving him too much deja vu. Another almost empty parking lot, another argument where Lewis is the one begging. “We can be friends, can’t we?”
“Do you still love me?” Nico pronounces, clear-cut and straight to it.
It takes Lewis off guard “I…”
Nico nods, understanding. “We are not good together,” he reminds Lewis.
Lewis hates that excuse. That was–God, they’ve surely grown up and learnt about their mistakes by now, right? “We can be,” Lewis says firmly.
Nico huffs, frustrated. He goes to look around them, making sure nobody could be watching or listening in. “It’s been years. Why now?” He asks when he knows they’re okay to keep talking.
Lewis opens his mouth to respond, but he can’t seem to find his voice. He hasn’t admitted this to anyone yet, not even his dad. So for Nico to know first, it’s… Lewis doesn’t want Nico to know all his secrets. He doesn’t feel safe being vulnerable around him anymore, and yet.
“I’m retiring.” Lewis declares quietly, trying to muster up the confidence he so desperately needs right now.
“What?” Nico immediately replies, curt and in disbelief.
Lewis closes his eyes for a moment, exhaling. “When my contract ends, I’m not going to renew it,” he explains. It’s a bit stupid of him to admit, since he’s recently signed a 2-year extension with Mercedes earlier this season but it gives him a good chance to win again, he supposes.
Nico’s expression is blank when Lewis looks at him again. “That is stupid of you,” he comments.
Lewis frowns. “Why?”
“You can win your 8th, no?” Nico says, struggling to look him in the eye. “If you hold on, you could become the–”
“ You’re seriously telling me to not retire?” Lewis cuts in, huffing out a laugh. Nico has to feel embarrassed right now, considering whose shoes he is now currently in.
Nico crosses his arms, trying not to let any emotions show. “Do whatever you want.” He remarks.
Lewis narrows his eyes at him. Fine, if that’s how he wants to play it. “One date,” Lewis blurts out. “I take you on one date, and–”
Nico bursts out laughing; it comes out scornful. “You’re actually insane,” he declares, refusing to take Lewis seriously.
It infuriates Lewis, just a bit, but he seriously cannot be asked to walk away and not at least try one more time to fix things. “I love–”
“Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!” Nico yells, exasperated. “Fine! Fucking fine, Lewis! I love you, too! I love you–I have loved you with every single second of my life, ever since knowing you, meeting you, ever since Greece, I have loved you.” He proclaims, sputtering out word after word without a single break, finally pausing to inhale sharply.
Nico looks like he’s on the verge of tears, and all Lewis can do is stare at him in shock. “I love you with everything that I–that…” Nico shakes his head, biting down on his lip to stop himself from continuing. “You have ruined me,” he murmurs.
“I’ve ruined you?” Lewis repeats, voice cracking slightly.
Nico tips his head back, whimpering. He tries his best to keep it together. “You complete me,” he manages to force out. “With anyone else, I am–I am–”
Lewis shakes his head, deciding to take the step that is needed to close the gap between him and Nico, and they’re so close Lewis swears he can hear both of their heartbeats, their heavy breathing mingling together. “I know.” He says softly, hoping that Nico understands that he really does know how he feels.
“I–” Nico’s breath hitches, bottom lip trembling.
Lewis reaches out to wipe away the tears that start falling, from frustration, or whatever, it doesn’t matter.
“I know.”
Lewis and Nico will probably never be perfect, apart or together but, at least, this time they try. They will try, even if it means Lewis has to part the red sea to conquer Nico’s stubbornness and even if Nico has to proclaim their love from the rooftops to show Lewis that he’s sorry.
When Lewis retires without his 8th championship win, he knows Nico will be waiting for him with practised praises and a home-cooked meal. It’s more than enough.