Chapter Text
Ollie groaned as his phone buzzed for what felt like the hundredth time, the sound grating against the silence of his bedroom. He buried his head under his pillow, willing the noise to stop. Just a few more hours, he thought. A few blissful hours of peace. But his phone seemed to have other plans. When it buzzed again, louder this time thanks to the vibration echoing against the wooden nightstand, he finally gave in. Groggily, he reached for it, his hand fumbling blindly until his fingers closed around the device.
Squinting against the blinding light of the screen, Ollie unlocked his phone to find a flood of notifications. His lock screen was plastered with texts, missed calls, and more notifications than he could process in his sleep-addled state. Messages from Dino, his manager, littered the top of the list, each more frantic than the last. There was a missed call from his mum—actually, two. A couple of texts from friends.
But as his bleary eyes scanned the wall of messages, one thing stood out. Among the chaos, there was no notification from Kimi. He blinked at the screen, almost certain he had missed something. Dino had called six times. His mum was clearly worried. Even Logan, who barely texted unless it was memes or race talk, had chimed in with a cryptic “Mate… you good?” But Kimi? Radio silence. That small detail poked at him, irritating and ominous all at once.
The phone buzzed again, cutting through his thoughts. Another call, this time from a number he didn’t immediately recognize. He frowned, debating whether to answer. Normally, he’d let it go to voicemail, especially at this hour, but something about the persistence of the calls made his stomach twist uneasily. Against his better judgment, he swiped to answer.
“Bearman, enfin!” A voice exploded into his ear, loud and rapid-fire. Ollie pulled the phone away slightly, wincing. It took him a moment to place the voice. Esteban Ocon? His future teammate? What the hell was he calling for, and why did he sound so agitated?
“Uh, hi?” Ollie managed, his voice scratchy from sleep.
“Yes, it’s me! Listen, have you seen it?” Esteban’s French accent was thick, and his words came out in a frantic torrent that Ollie struggled to follow. “This is insane! C’est incroyable, vraiment! What were you thinking? Mon dieu, our reputation—do you know what this means for our team?”
“What?” Ollie croaked, completely lost. He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to wake himself up. “Mate, slow down. What are you talking about?”
Esteban let out a frustrated huff, muttering something in French that Ollie didn’t catch. Then, mercifully, he switched to English. “I’m saying that I support you—don’t get me wrong, I really do. But this situation? It’s a crisis. For both of us!”
“Situation?” Ollie repeated, still trying to piece together the fragments of Esteban’s rambling. His brain was barely functioning, the fog of sleep still clinging to him. “What situation?”
“You haven’t seen? You don’t know?” Esteban sounded incredulous, as if Ollie had committed some grave sin by not being up-to-date with whatever had set the F1 world ablaze. “Check your social media! It’s everywhere. This is going to affect the team, the sponsors—everything!”
Ollie sat up, his heart beginning to pound. The urgency in Esteban’s voice was infectious, even if Ollie still didn’t have a clue what was going on. “Hang on,” he said, scrambling to turn on the bedside lamp. The sudden light made him squint, but he ignored it. “Just… tell me what happened.”
But Esteban wasn’t listening. He was still ranting, his voice climbing with every word. “I warned them this kind of thing could happen! So many rookies! It’s completely unprofessional. This isn’t how we handle things in Formula 1!”
“What isn’t?” Ollie tried again, his voice sharper this time. “Esteban, I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, as if Esteban was trying to decide whether Ollie was genuinely clueless or just playing dumb. Finally, he sighed. “Check your Twitter, Bearman. You’ll see.”
And with that, he hung up, leaving Ollie staring at the phone in disbelief. For a moment, he just sat there, the silence of the room pressing in around him. Then his phone buzzed again, the screen lighting up with yet another message from Dino: “ANSWER ME NOW!!!”
“Bloody hell,” Ollie muttered, tossing the blanket off and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. His heart was pounding now, a steady thrum of anxiety building in his chest. Whatever this was, it wasn’t good. Dino’s texts alone told him that much. And Esteban? Ollie wasn’t sure what to make of his teammate’s hysterics, but it was enough to make him feel sick.
Grabbing his laptop from the floor, he opened it and went straight to Twitter. The page loaded slowly, the spinning wheel of death only adding to his frustration. When it finally refreshed, his stomach dropped. His name was trending. Actually, no—his name and Kimi’s were both trending, side by side, accompanied by a hashtag that made his blood run cold.
#Bearnelli was trending worldwide. The tag was accompanied by memes, screenshots, and a blurry video clip that had been shared thousands of times.
With a sense of dread, Ollie clicked on the video. It was from last night, his head on Kimi’s lap, as they shared sweet nothing together. Whenever Kimi leaned in close, too close.
Ollie’s breath caught as he watched the moment unfold. He and Kimi leaned toward each other, their faces just inches apart. The frame froze at the exact moment when it seemed like their lips might meet, cutting off before anything else happened. It wasn’t a kiss. It wasn’t anything. But it was more than enough to send the internet into a frenzy.
They weren't like that. They were friends.
He scrolled down, his pulse racing as he read the comments.
Some were supportive: “Finally, a gay couple in F1? Iconic.”
Others were confused: “Is this real? Are they actually together?”
And then there were the ones that made his stomach churn: “Disgusting. Keep that s** out of our sport.”*
It didn’t stop there. Journalists were already running with the story, speculating about their relationship and what it meant for Formula 1. Some questioned whether it was a publicity stunt, while others applauded the idea of representation in a sport so big.
Ollie’s head spun as he tried to process it all. He hadn’t done anything wrong, but that didn’t seem to matter. His reputation—and Kimi’s—was being picked apart in real-time by millions of strangers. They weren't even gay.
And still, no word from Kimi.
The silence was deafening. Ollie couldn’t help but wonder what his teammate—well, ex teammate—was thinking right now. Was he ignoring the chaos, or was he just as overwhelmed? The last thing Ollie wanted was to call him and make things worse, but the longer he stared at his phone, the more the urge grew.
Before he could decide, his phone buzzed again. This time, it was his Manager, or well his father. Ollie hesitated before answering, bracing himself for whatever the man was about to say.
“What the hell is going on, Ollie?” his voice was sharp, cutting through the tension like a knife. “Do you have any idea how big this has gotten?”
“Yeah,” Ollie muttered. “I’m looking at it now.”
“Well, stop looking and start thinking about how we’re going to fix this,” His father snapped. “Sponsors are already calling me, asking questions. The team is freaking out. And don’t even get me started on the fans. Half of them think you’re a hero, and the other half want you out of the sport.”
“I didn’t even do anything!” Ollie protested, his frustration boiling over.
“I know that, but perception is everything,” Dad said, his tone softening slightly. “Look, we’ll figure this out baby boy, but you need to be careful. One wrong move, and this could spiral out of control.”
Still, one question lingered in his mind, refusing to be ignored: where was Kimi in all of this?
Kimi had sent a message. He didn’t open it. Not yet. The last thing Ollie wanted to deal with was another long, drawn-out conversation about the mess they were in. Not after everything that had happened. The kiss. The video. The media circus that was spiraling out of control. His stomach churned just thinking about it.
Instead, Ollie reached for his phone, swiping through his messages to Dino’s long string of texts, each more frantic than the last.
Dino: Your phone’s blowing up. Don’t make me call your mom again.
The last message made Ollie chuckle, a dry, humorless laugh that barely reached his chest. Dino always knew how to cut through the tension.
With a sigh, Ollie dialed Dino’s number, his thumb hovering over the screen. He knew his best friend would have a thousand questions, but Ollie wasn’t sure he was ready to answer any of them yet. The last thing he wanted to do was talk about the kiss—the kiss that never happened, the kiss jo that caught on camera. But Dino would push for it. He always did.
The phone rang twice before Dino picked up, his voice coming through with the familiar, impatient tone.
“Ollie!” Dino’s voice was a mixture of relief and panic. “Thank God! Where the hell have you been? You’re blowing up. I’ve been texting you for hours.”
“Sorry,” Ollie muttered, slumping back against his bed. “Just… needed a minute.”
Dino’s voice softened immediately. “I get it. But seriously, man. You need to see what’s going on. The internet is going crazy right now. The video’s all over the place, and people are losing their minds.”
Ollie winced at the mention of the video. He hadn’t dared to watch it yet. The thought of seeing the moment of his life being turned into something else made his stomach twist. “I know. I’ve seen some of it. It’s everywhere.”
Dino groaned loudly. “Everywhere is an understatement. You’ve got some people saying you’re heroes, others calling it a ‘PR stunt.’ And don’t even get me started on the homophobic comments. The press is just circling, waiting for you to say something. They want you to ‘confirm’ what they think is happening.”
Ollie clenched his jaw, biting back the frustration rising in his chest. "I'm not confirming anything. It's... it's just a misunderstanding."
“I know that, you know that, but everyone else is seeing something different,” Dino said. “Look, it’s not the end of the world. But if you and Kimi don’t get ahead of this, it’s going to spiral. Kimi has an interview later today, tell him to disprove the comments.”
Ollie’s fingers tightened around the phone, his mind racing as he processed Dino’s words. The pressure of the situation was starting to sink in, and he hated it. There was no way to hide from the public now, not when everything was unfolding so publicly, so fast. A simple mistake—or even a split-second moment—could turn everything upside down. And this moment, the kiss, had already done that.
He could feel the weight of it all pressing down on him. The fans, the media, the sponsors—none of them cared about the truth. They wanted answers, and they wanted them now. And the one person he was desperately trying to avoid was Kimi, who had suddenly become a part of this chaos, whether he liked it or not.
“Kimi’s interview…” Ollie muttered, glancing at the screen of his phone, the message from Kimi still unread. “What’s he supposed to say?”
“Stuff about his team, I'm sure the topic changed now ,” Dino replied, frustration creeping into his voice. “But if he doesn’t set the record straight, it’s going to get worse. The last thing you need is for this to drag out for days or weeks.”
Ollie closed his eyes, picturing Kimi in his mind. He had always been a mystery, a private person who rarely shared anything unless he had to. They hadn't kissed, they weren't going too. The media had stolen that moment from them, turned it into something sensational, and now they were both left to deal with the aftermath. They were just trying to be together, alone.
“I’ll talk to him,” Ollie said, his voice low. “I’ll figure it out.”
“Good,” Dino replied. “And Ollie?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t let this define you. You’re better than this. You know that, right?”
Ollie didn’t respond right away. The words felt like a lifeline thrown into a stormy sea, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to grab onto it yet. Instead, he ended the call and sat in silence for a few moments, letting the reality of the situation wash over him. The last thing he wanted to do was deal with the fallout of a kiss that never happened. It was everywhere, and everyone had an opinion.
His thoughts turned back to Kimi. Where was he in all of this? Ollie knew Kimi wasn’t one to run from his problems, but he also wasn’t the type to let himself be dragged into the media circus, not unless he had no other choice. Maybe that was the only thing Ollie was sure of right now: Kimi wouldn’t want to turn this into something it wasn’t.
With a deep breath, Ollie unlocked the screen of his phone again, navigating to the message from Kimi that he had been avoiding. He hesitated for a moment before tapping it open.
Kimi: Don't text me.
That was it. No explanation, no extra words. It was simple, direct, and to the point. Ollie stared at it for a long time, his thumb hovering over the reply button. Did he listen?
He had no answers, and the idea of facing Kimi in this mess made his stomach churn. But he couldn’t avoid him forever. They had to prove there was nothing more,
Ollie: whast the hell??
Ollie: we dnot have anytinh to hide??
Ollie: dude andwer
He waited for a response. The minutes dragged by, and with each passing second, the knot in Ollie’s stomach tightened further. Kimi wasn’t answering, and that only made the unease inside Ollie grow. Why wasn’t Kimi responding? Was he shutting him out because of some press?
Just as he was about to throw his phone across the room in frustration, it buzzed. His heart skipped as he glanced down at the screen, but the name that flashed wasn’t Kimi’s. It was Dino.
Dino: You good?
Ollie didn’t have the energy to answer Dino’s usual barrage of questions, but he quickly typed a response anyway.
Ollie: i shold be?? its alsl an misunderstandding??? he wont answer
Dino: I know. But you’ve got to talk to him.
Ollie: I will
Ollie didn't hear from Kimi until his interviewed.
-----
Ollie wasn’t exactly prepared for this interview, but surely Kimi, with his flawless composure and natural charisma, had it under control. The entire conversation being in Italian wasn’t an issue—thankfully, Ollie had a decent grasp of the language, plus captions to help him along.
The interviewer didn’t waste any time. "Thank you for joining us, Kimi. The media has been buzzing about the recent video of you and Oliver Bearman—specifically the kiss that was caught on camera. There’s been a lot of speculation about what it means. Could you shed some light on that for us?"
Kimi didn’t flinch. His expression was a study in controlled disinterest, his voice smooth and detached as he responded.
"Speculation? What speculation?" Kimi’s scoff carried just enough condescension to make everyone in the room feel mildly inadequate. "You’ve all seen the video. It’s just a moment. Nothing special."
Ah, classic Kimi—always knowing how to make something out of nothing by insisting it’s absolutely nothing.
The interviewer, undeterred, leaned in. "But Kimi, the moment seemed... intimate. The way you both looked at each other—it seemed like something more than just a casual gesture. Are you denying that there’s anything between you two?"
"Intimate?" Kimi echoed, his voice dripping with mockery. "You people love to create stories out of thin air. There’s no ‘more’ here. I’ve known Oliver for a while—we’re teammates. That’s all it’s ever been. Nothing more." His tone suggested that even entertaining the idea was a monumental waste of his time.
Ollie, for his part, felt a strange mix of relief and disappointment. Kimi was handling it well—maybe too well.
The interviewer pressed on. "So, you’re saying there was never any friendship between you and Oliver? You’ve worked together for years, raced together. Wasn’t there even a bond between you two?"
Kimi’s laugh was dry, almost pitying. "Friendship? No. We were never friends. We were colleagues. That’s it. You people really need to stop romanticizing professional relationships. I have standards, anyway."
Ollie blinked. Standards? Was that supposed to mean something?
The topic shifted. "Kimi, we’ve heard some fans express concern over Oliver’s health, particularly his chronic pain and its impact on his racing. You racers are known for covering up injuries. What’s your take on that? Do you think it’s affecting his performance?"
Kimi’s expression hardened, his tone cooling to sub-zero levels. "His health?" he repeated, as though the mere concept was offensive. "Look, everyone deals with struggles. Oliver? He uses his pain as an excuse. It’s weak. This sport isn’t for the faint of heart. It’s not just about skill—it’s about mental strength. Oliver has neither."
Ollie felt the words hit him like a sledgehammer. Weak? An excuse? Coming from Kimi, it was a betrayal wrapped in calculated cruelty.
Kimi wasn’t done. "I’ve raced through injuries—broken bones, you name it. You don’t see me making a spectacle of it. Oliver’s problem isn’t physical. It’s mental. He’s just not cut out for this."
The sting of Kimi’s words burned deeper than Ollie cared to admit. Was this really happening? Was Kimi publicly dismantling him, piece by agonizing piece?
The interviewer hesitated before asking, "But Kimi, Oliver is clearly talented. He’s been making great strides in his career. Do you think he has the potential to succeed in Formula 1, despite what you’re saying?"
Kimi’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. "Potential? Sure. But potential is useless without resilience. And Oliver doesn’t have that. Every time things get tough, he folds. It’s like watching a boy trying to play in a man’s world. He’s got no grit. No fire."
Ollie felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs. Each word was a knife, twisting deeper. How could Kimi say this? How could he be so... cold?
The interviewer ventured cautiously, "Do you regret your partnership with Oliver on the track?"
Kimi’s answer was as quick as it was cutting. "Regret? No. But I do regret giving him the benefit of the doubt. I regret believing he could handle the pressure. Fans want a hero, but Oliver? He’s not it. He’s too fragile for this world."
Ollie’s chest ached. Too fragile. The words echoed in his mind, looping endlessly, each repetition heavier than the last.
By now, the interviewer seemed desperate to salvage the conversation. "Kimi, do you think the media pressure might be affecting Oliver? After all, this level of scrutiny is intense for anyone, let alone someone as young as him."
Kimi’s response was delivered with surgical precision. "Pressure? I'm younger than him. Look at me. Oliver doesn’t need the media to crack. He manages that all on his own."
And just like that, Ollie could feel the last of his composure slipping away. It was one thing to face criticism—it was another to be utterly eviscerated by someone you’d once trusted.
Dino texted him:
Are you seeing this?
What a piece of work.
Ollie replied, his fingers shaking: He’s a piece of something, alright.
He stared at the screen, feeling the weight of Kimi’s words settle like an unbearable weight on his chest. And yet, all he could think was: What the hell did I ever do to him?
Ollie’s heart thudded painfully in his chest. The truth.
What was up with kimi? Did he need to make himself look better? To prove a point? Ollie didn’t know.
Dino: Are you watching this? This is insane. I can’t believe Kimi just said that about you.
Ollie: What a pice of shit
He knew he shouldn't. He knew it would only make things worse. But he couldn't hold it in anymore.
Ollie: You’re unbelievable, Kimi.
Ollie:I’ve been sitting here, listening to you tear me apart, and I’m done. Done with the lies, done with the bullshit.
Ollie:You think you’re some kind of hero for exposing me? For saying I’m “too fragile” for this sport? You don’t get it, do you? You don’t get what I’ve been through. You think it’s just about racing, about pushing through pain, but it’s not. It’s not that simple.
Ollie: You say I’m “too soft” – well, fuck you. You think you’re the only one who’s ever struggled?
You think you’re the only one who’s had to fight just to be here? I’ve fought every day since I got into this sport.
Ollie: I’ve fought through more than you’ll ever know, and for you to stand there and call me weak, like I’m some fucking charity case – that’s the real weakness.
Ollie: You’re so fucking scared of my potential that you’ll tear me down in front of the world just to make yourself feel better. You have no idea what it’s like to be me, do you?
Ollie: We were never friends? Really? You’re going to say that after everything we’ve been through? All the time we’ve spent together, the hard work we’ve put in as teammates, and you’re going to act like none of it mattered? You’ve erased everything, Kimi. You’ve erased every goddamn thing that ever happened between us, and for what? Because I’m not “tough” enough for you? Because I can’t handle the pressure the way you do?
Ollie: You're going to crash and burn. Everyone wants you to be this “Lewis Hamilton” heir, but you can't.
Ollie: You're fucking boring outside of racing:
You think you’ve got it all figured out, but you’re a coward.
Ollie: That’s the truth. You’re too scared to be honest with yourself, too scared to admit you’ve been hiding behind your “cool” persona this whole time. It’s not about being tough. It’s not about pain or strength. It’s about trust. And you shattered that.
So yeah, keep talking, Kimi. Keep pretending that I’m the problem. But just know this: I’ll never forget what you said. I’ll never forget that you were the one who chose to burn this bridge.
I’m done trying to prove myself to someone who’s never going to see me as anything more than a rival. You’re not worth it.
Kimi: non sto leggendo tutto quello