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Kimi couldn’t wipe his smile off his face. After a rough couple of races, he was finally back on the top step, and there was a comfortable buffer between him and his teammate. He texted Max and Charles that he was packing up and almost ready to leave; the three of them were going out to celebrate their podiums. After slinging his backpack over his shoulder, he bid his goodbyes to Bono and the team before making his way over to Toto
Breaking into a smile, Toto wrapped the driver in a tight, yet comforting hug, patting him gently before letting go. Kimi rocked back on his heels once, still debating whether or not he should say goodbye to George. Would he want that if the roles were reversed? Finally deciding he didn’t have much to lose, he asked Toto.
“Have you seen George? I wanted to say goodbye to him before heading out.”
Toto looked shocked at first, and Kimi awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. Even though his teammate was probably not in the mood to talk, he just had a weird feeling and wanted to check in with him.
“I don’t know… maybe in his driver's room?”
Odd. Shouldn’t they be talking about the incident? Or at least have one planned. Kimi knew if there were issues with his straight times that the team would be working tirelessly to fix it—why were they not for George?
Just then, Max and Charles bounded into the Mercedes area. Both were already changed, with Max in his typical redbull kit and Charles in an incredibly revealing outfit, being clearly ready to go clubbing.
“Kimi! C’mon!! The night is young mon ami and I am far too sober for getting P2!”
“Yeah I’m coming! One second though; I’m gonna go check on George”
Charles smirked at that, while Max looked perturbed.
“Is that the best idea? If I were him, I might not want to see you” Kimi winced at that. “I could check on him instead?” Max offered, causing Charles to burst into giggles.
“I’m sure you would like to check on him Max.. explore how he’s feeling.. let George lay his emotions bare-”
“Charles, that doesn’t even make sense. How are you already this drunk?”
“Sugar metabolizes the alcohol faster”
“..whatever. Anyway Kimi, It’s no big deal I can check—”
“No! I mean, it's okay. I can do it”
Kimi turned towards George’s driver’s room, ignoring the gnawing feeling in his stomach. He knew how Max felt about George, practically everyone did. Even some fans were able to pick up on how he felt; Kimi once spent an entire afternoon on a burner account arguing with fans about how George didn’t like Max at all, even after all their friendly interactions this season. It wasn’t that he was jealous, he just missed when he and George had a bond like that. What Kimi wouldn’t give to have George’s eyes look at him fondly again.
When he reached George’s room, he opted to knock first, listening for a response. After nothing for a few moments, he pushed down on the handle and opened the door.
His heart dropped.
There was George. His teammate George. The man who did everything in his power to make sure that Kimi was comfortable during his first year in F1. George, who sat with Kimi for hours after he crashed into Max, single handedly deleting every single horrible comment from his instagram. His kind, empathetic, sassy, full-of-life teammate was lying on the floor of his driver’s room, bleeding from his wrists.
Kimi doesn’t remember much after that. He remembered running forward and cradling George’s pale face in his hands, begging him to stay. He could have been yelling, he could have been whispering, he could have been thinking, he just couldn’t remember. George was eventually taken away from him; Kimi didn’t know where. He just curled into a ball and ran his bloody fingers through his hair, feeling the hot, thick blood drip down his face.
***
Charles was still laughing when Kimi walked away. Max seemed oblivious of Kimi’s crush on George, while Kimi was far too aware of Max’s. While Kimi was still grumbling as he left, Toto turned to Max and raised a brow.
“What was that about?”
Charles burst out laughing, watching Max stutter and try to defend himself.
“Well Toto, you see-”
Max was cut off by a blood curdling scream. Charles stopped laughing immediately, body going rigid. Max was already up, running towards the hallway that Kimi disappeared down, with Charles in hot pursuit.
When they reached the room, Charles felt blood pounding in his ears. They saw Kimi, cradling George’s body, repeatedly shaking his shoulder, desperately yelling no. The ‘no’s got progressively louder with each shake, as George remained unresponsive.
It was Max who acted first, taking off his redbull kit and tearing it down the middle. He then moved forward, trying to gently move Kimi so that he could try to tie the fabric to his seeping wrists, but Kimi wasn’t moving.
“No. nononono. George wake up! George, please wake up!! George!!”
“Kimi please I really need you to move. Damnit! Charles!”
Charles yanked Kimi away from George, and Kimi went ballistic. He was screaming and crying, trying to hit and punch Charles, doing practically anything to try to get away. After a particularly strong bite to Charles' hand, Charles threw Kimi at Toto.
“I need you to fucking deal with him right now. Max needs help. Also, contact help.”
Toto stared at him shell shocked. After a few seconds, Charles tried again.
“Are you fucking slow?!? Go get help!”
Toto finally ran out of the room, dragging Kimi along with him. Charles ran to Max’s side, watching him tie each piece of fabric to an arm before addressing Charles.
“I need you to keep his arms elevated above his heart, okay? I need to see if there is anything else we can do to secure the shirt; he’s probably going to bleed through."
And just like that, Max was gone, running around shirtless and covered in blood. Charles gently ran the hand that was not holding George’s arms through his hair, whispering gently in french. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw George’s phone, still lit on the page he was looking at when he slit his wrists. The screen was bloody and the text was hard to read, but eventually Charles put it together. It was Toto’s response to him crashing in lap one. Toto said in the statement it was a ‘racing error’, despite everyone knowing his car was having issues. Charles wanted to punch something. Although he knew he couldn’t completely blame Toto, people try to kill themselves for many reasons, it is typically not just one incident, but frankly, he didn’t care. He wanted to see Toto on his knees, repenting for the way he had treated George.
Charles was still reading the article when the medics came to take George away. They tried to follow, but were denied access, leaving Charles, Kimi, Toto and Max in the driver room, Charles still clutching George’s bloody phone.
He silently beckoned Max over and showed him the screen. Max struggled to read it for a few minutes before it finally registered.
“Is this..?”
“What he was looking at when it happened? Yeah.”
Max looked up from the phone towards Toto with a look of pure, absolute hate. Before Charles could even realize what he was going to do, Max had already thrown a punch, his fist colliding with Toto’s jaw. Charles ran over and pulled Max off, not before he landed a couple more punches. Charles dragged him to the other side of the room when a medic walked back in.
She explained that George was being transferred to a hospital because he couldn’t be treated at the paddock (“No shit”, Max muttered). She gave Toto the name and before she was finished, Max had already grabbed both Kimi and Charles and was walking out of the room towards the parking lot, grabbing one of George’s Mercedes kits and pulling it over his head.
“You guys aren’t thinking about walking to the paddock like that are you?” Toto asked, disgusted.
“Go fuck yourself” Max responded, already walking away.
“Max, I'm serious. This is an extremely personal incident and, for George’s sake, we want as little coverage as possible. Come out the back way now.”
Clenching his jaw, Max looked at Charles, who nodded.
“Fine.”
***
Max insisted on driving. In hindsight, that wasn’t a bad idea. He was practically sick with worry, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel to distract his mind from George’s limp body. He found himself missing everything about him. His chatter, the way he moved his jaw when he was considering a question. He even found himself missing his hateful eyes and spiteful tone. He didn’t realize how full of life he was until all of it was stripped away, leaving a broken empty shell.
Looking into the rearview mirror, Max’s heart broke. Charles kept trying to comfort Kimi, but he kept shoving his hands away, eyes vacant. Hearing a sniffle, he looked to the passenger seat to see Toto quickly wipe his cheek and turn towards the window.
***
George didn’t lock his door again. Honestly it was a rookie mistake; leaving the door unlocked while he was cutting himself. He remembered the first time he did it. It was after his first race with Mercedes, when Lewis had Covid. He was cutting along the inside of his thighs, only a few inches from the injuries he sustained from the size of the car, when Toto walked in. George will never forget what happened next. Toto stared at him blankly for a few moments before telling George to not let his recreational habits mess with his driving.
At the time, George had appreciated it. Who would want to talk about their mental health problems with a man they didn’t even work for yet? But after George transitioned to Mercedes, and Toto continued to ignore the scars, he wondered why he never made George see anybody about it. He knew his habits were bad, and he wanted to stop, he just didn’t know how. After a few more years he gave up on expecting anything from Toto or Mercedes. They clearly didn't think he was worth it.
This time however, it was different. He had intentionally left his door unlocked because this time he wasn’t cutting himself to punish himself. He cut to die.
That's what George told himself as the crimson bubbles started appearing on his wrists. He told himself that it would all be over soon and he wouldn’t have to deal with any of that anymore. He wouldn’t wait for salvation anymore, wouldn’t wait for help that wasn’t coming. He was giving up. And he was content with that. He had given them everything, and he had nothing left to give. His body would probably be found by maintenance, he shouldn’t make it more difficult by locking the door. He would be long dead by the time he was found; nobody would bother to check in with him. He didn’t deserve it.
Apparently, the universe could never give him what he wanted, even when he just wanted to end his suffering. He woke up before his eyes opened; he couldn’t find the strength yet. His ears were ringing, yet he could make out a steady beeping and quiet voices talking, likely outside the room. Wherever he was smelled of blood and antiseptic, likely a hospital. He felt a pinch in his left arm, likely an IV, and a gentle weight of someone’s hand in his own.
Opening his eyes, he was blinded by fluorescent lights for a few moments before he adjusted. Max, in a Mercedes kit, was to his left, asleep, holding his hand. To his right, was Toto, not holding his hand, but asleep with a concerned expression. He awoke, apparently sensing that George was also awake, and shook Max awake. George couldn’t handle the way they were looking at him with sympathy.
“How did you find me?”
Toto bit his lip, tilting his chin toward Max, letting him speak.
“Kimi wanted to check on you before we went out. He was the one who found you.”
“Before you ‘went out’? Is that why I distinctly remember Charles dressed like a stripper?”
Max choked, and Toto let out a huff that possibly could be considered a laugh.
“Max, could we have a minute?”
Max’s smile vanished. He looked to George, who nodded, then got up and left the room. George turned away from Toto before he spoke.
“Well.. what was so urgent that you needed to talk to me on my deathbed?”
Toto winced at the word choice but didn’t comment. “When did it get so bad?”
“How would you know? You never cared when I cut myself normally.”
“Because-” Toto set his jaw and looked up, searching for the words. “I couldn’t stop you so-”
“You never tried! You never helped me! I-” He trailed off. “I wanted to get better then. I just didn’t know how.” His voice got softer as he spoke.
“You can. George you still can.” George shook his head.
“I’m just too tired now. I don’t even think I want to get better now.”
“George please.. please don’t say that”
Their conversation was interrupted by a knock at the door. Without waiting for a response, Kimi slammed open the door and practically jumped onto George’s hospital bed.
“Hello Kimi, how are you on this fine evening?”
“Shut up, I hate you.”
“You hate me?”
“I hate you…” Kimi sniffed, before promptly bursting into tears.
“Oh Kimi” George cooed, but it wasn’t condescending, it was sweet, gentle. He moved his bandaged arms around Kimi’s shoulders, threading his fingers through his hair. “Don’t cry for me.”
“Don’t tell me what to do”
George chuckled and moved Kimi to one side to hug Charles, who was on the verge of tears watching the two of them.
“Ciao bello”
George laughed against Kimi’s curls. While hugging the two, George looked up at Max, whose eyes were watering.
“Oh my god I need a picture of this. Max Emilian Verstappen.. are you crying over me?”
“You tried to kill yourself, George. My tears are warranted.” Still, he wiped them away frantically.
When George tried to stop hugging Kimi to talk to Max, Kimi proceeded to hold on tighter.
“Kimi it’s okay, just let me talk to Max for a second.” Reluctantly, Kimi let go, but continued to hover over George.
Max was gentler than Kimi, who needed desperate reassurance that George was okay. Instead he moved gently over to kiss George softly on the forehead. When he moved away, he looked into George’s eyes and his knees went weak. George looked up at him with so much emotion. Thanks, for saving his life, anger, for forcing him to continue, trust, maybe even admiration, but mostly pain. Pain from years of being overlooked, pain from himself, pain from others. Softly Max whispered in his ear.
“Everything is going to be okay.”
“You promise?”