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“My name is Kimi Räikkönen, and-“
“Sorry Kimi, we haven’t started yet.”
He locks his glare onto the cameraman, who is still setting up his camera. He already doesn’t want to be here. He’s beyond pissed, practically pinning his leg down to keep
it from bouncing up and down from irritation and restlessness.
“I’m leaving.”
Before anyone in the room can even respond, Kimi is out the door, muttering a string of Finnish swears that seem to linger in the air even after he slammed the door behind him.
“What a great fucking day…” The Iceman mumbles to himself in Finnish, brisk walking as far as he can from the shooting location, not looking back even once.
He hated shooting media, promotional material of any kinds. To Kimi, he felt that he was here to race, not market himself like some cash cow for his team to rake in the big bucks. He belonged in the car, not in front of a camera, spilling secrets to the world.
Some things were better off private. And Kimi would rather keep as much of himself hidden away, locked inside some secret place behind the persona of the “Iceman” pushed upon him.
His hatred of doing anything for the cameras was well known. He got teased for it by the other racers, constantly pestered by his team and sponsors to just film even one advertisement for them. Eventually, after all this pressure placed upon you, you learn to distance yourself, to stop caring.
And that’s exactly what Kimi did.
So what if they said things about him behind his back? So what if they wrote articles about him, slandering his name, portraying him as an awful human being he never actually was? It’s not like he cared. He didn’t want to.
But pretending like you aren’t bothered by anything is simply admitting that it bothers you very, very much. And thankfully, no one other than Kimi seemed to understand this sentiment.
Because they cared the normal amount. Because they didn’t have to pick and choose what to look like they care, and not care about.
Getting into his car, Kimi immediately starts up the engine, placing his hands in their familiar positions on the steering wheel, inhaling and exhaling deep and long.
The reason why he looked like he cared so little, was because he cared too much.
He drives his car out onto a local highway, and doesn’t bother answering his phone that is busy ringing away in the backseat, sliding onto the passenger footwell as he accelerates even more.
Kimi justifies, on his drive away from the shooting location, that the reason for not doing any promo, not broadcasting himself out there in the ways the other drivers seemed to, was because it gave people less to work with.
He knows he’s thinking like an angsty teenager right now, but he’s so annoyed that he doesn’t even care.
It gave them less to know about his true self. All the damage would go to the Iceman, and Kimi Räikkönen would stay safe, buried deep and safe, far far away from scathing remarks, cruel words, and the burden of judgement.
His reasoning is hollow, and he is well aware of that. But he has already deceived everyone else, why not deceive himself as well? He could be the Iceman for just a little longer, and the world would never know how the real racer was dying inside.
Kimi speeds up, more than the speed limit, but the road is secluded and empty. He drives aimlessly, in silence, as his thoughts are already loud enough. All he needs to do is just keep going, further and further away from the shooting location.
The illusion of distance always brought comfort. And so he kept driving, for hours.
By the time he’s recharged and ready to face the world again as the Iceman, the uncaring, nonchalant racing driver, his phone has already had over 30 missed calls. From Ron Dennis, from his manager, from some other guys whose numbers he hadn’t bothered to save. He cleared out his voicemails, not even bothering to call anyone back.
No one is happy that Kimi had run away from the shoot. They probably felt like he had run from a responsibility. If he went back now, they were going to scold him for being immature and irresponsible, and shove him back down in that uncomfortably springy chair, reading out rehearsed lines until he went insane.
It was suffocating, really. His ego would never let him admit it, but in that moment where he stood up and left, that was really what it felt like.
The tension was too heavy, everyone on high alert in case Kimi complained about anything or tried to desert his duties. Granted, they didn’t do a very good job of that. The environment was unfamiliar, the words shoved in his mouth forced and unnatural.
Walls too white, floor too dark, cameras too big and imposing, aimed at Kimi, ready to capture every movement he made like he was a high security prisoner. It sure felt like it at the time. The chair was awful to sit on, and he was sweating in that racing suit he hadn’t yet taken off even when he drove away. The collar was too tight, the air too thick. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think.
He spoke to no one about what happened that day when he was asked. His manager bever got an answer. His team boss failed to wrestle anything out of him. Even the other racers failed at baiting the gossip out of him.
That was just how good he was, at being the Iceman. At not caring at all, thinking of himself only, some might say.
If seeming like he gave zero fucks was a sign of selfishness, perhaps the Iceman might just be one of the most selfish people in the world. But was it really selfish to keep secrets, to protect himself against strangers who had no qualms in insulting and defaming others?
He went drinking the next day. There was no race for another week, and it seems like they have finally given up on dragging him along to film things with his teammate. So the bar was his next destination.
The hype around him, the racing prodigy, Schumacher’s nightmare, had already died down. After disappointment upon disappointment, that seemed to be all they expected from him. That was definitely not helpful to his racing career, but helped when he went out to get drunk.
He’d learned as long as he looked miserable enough, laughed more than he should, no one would piece it together in such a secluded area. Essentially, if he acted like who he truly was, no one would actually realise him.
And so he did. The whiskey’s familiar burn and warmth helped quell the anxiety, irritation and oh so much stress he was facing. Every drink numbed the pain even more, chiseling slowly away at the Iceman until only the true Kimi Räikkönen was left, unprotected from the world’s judgement.
Usually, he’d only get tipsy, just drunk enough to be able to make it back to his hotel room. But it seemed like the pressure of doing his job, playing it up for the media seemed to have taken over his self control.
His vision was blurry, and he couldn’t speak properly, which, coupled with his low voice and already thick enough accent, made it hard for him to speak any English at all.
Against his better judgement, Kimi tried to order another drink, only to realise one had already been placed in front of him, on the table.
He looks up only to see a man he doesn’t recognise sitting at his table, where he’d previously been drinking alone. He can’t quite make out his facial features, but he swears the man is smiling and checking him out.
He knows it’s time to leave, he’s too drunk to deal with the man, too drunk to do anything else. But before he can, someone grabs him by the arm, saying something in his ear in a seductive tone. Kimi can’t quite make out what he says. It’s all a mess in his head.
Still, he can’t find the strength to say no. The man is getting closer now and Kimi is defenceless, his strength diminished by the alcohol, and his words slurred by the amount he consumed.
The man doesn’t hear him protest as he puts a hand on Kimi’s waist, leading him somewhere he doesn’t want to go. His words come out as nothing more than mumbles, as the man chuckles at his attempts to try and break free.
The rest is all a blur. He doesn’t remember much after, only that he was protesting all throughout.
He wakes up in the morning, his legs sore and a lingering sense of discomfort and disgust all over. He can’t recall what had happened, but he has a pretty good idea of why he isn’t wearing anything.
He feels absolutely filthy. Rolling over, he ends up face to face with the man who had taken him home the previous night. He was still asleep, completely unaware of Kimi having woken up.
Emotions start to cycle through him. First, there’s despair, for the situation that he had gotten himself into. Then, rage, for the nerve the other man had to do such a thing. And lastly, disgust, at himself for letting such a thing happen.
He was a Formula One driver, how could this happen to him? How was he going to show up to work, stand in front of the cameras and pretend this never happened? How was he even going to act like nothing had happened at all?
Whether it was from the hangover or from him processing what had happened, a strong wave of nausea washed over him.
The thoughts continued buzzing in his head, not helping one bit. The nausea doesn’t cease, tormenting him until the taste of bile and alcohol flood his mouth and he ends up vomiting on the stranger’s floor out of disgust and alcohol overconsumption.
“Shouldn’t have drunk so much, hm?” A voice from behind him speaks, and a pair of hands press themselves against his bare back, rubbing in a gesture meant to be comforting, the touch instead making Kimi more nauseous.
“Did you have fun last night?” the stranger asks, and the over-seductive tone his voice takes on is enough to make Kimi nauseous all over again. The strangers hands slowly lower from rubbing between his shoulder blades to the front of his body, running his hands over Kimi’s chest.
“Don’t fucking touch me.” He growls, though his voice sounded more like pleading if anything, the anger bubbling up to the surface as the man has the audacity to violate his personal space once again and touch him in such a way.
His words fall on deaf ears as the man continues touching him. Every touch of the stranger’s fingertips on his skin left a lingering feeling of discomfort with everywhere they went. Kimi’s only thought was to flee.
“S-stop it…” Kimi whines, squirming slightly as the man continues to run his fingers over Kimi’s skin.
“Shhh… be a good boy for me alright? Like you were last night.” The man remarks, ignoring Kimi’s pleas.
Eventually, as the man refused to stop his ministrations, he forced out his veneer of calmness. He didn’t want to be vulnerable in front of that man again. He didn’t want him to know he had control over Kimi.
The man had started pressing kisses to his neck, each one feeling like they had bruised Kimi’s skin and marred it irreparably. Kimi took the time to look at his surroundings, spying his phone and wallet on the bedside table, the only two possessions he had on him while he was at the bar.
His clothes lay strewn in a corner of the room, alongside the stranger’s shirt. Trying his best to put himself back together, he forms a plan to get away.
When the man eventually leaves the bed to go to the restroom, Kimi puts on his clothes, just enough to be decently modest, before picketing his possessions and leaping out the window. Thankfully, the stranger happened to only live on the second storey, Kimi was able to escape relatively unharmed.
His phone still had battery in it, and he used its remaining power to call his manager to pick him up.
“Rough night, huh?” He gets greeted with, as he gets in the car. Kimi just grunts dismissively, already trying to scrub the previous night’s events from his mind.
Throughout the whole ride back to his own hotel room, he remains silent. This however, leads him to start dwelling on the past.
He starts to remember the small details. How the stranger’s voice had continued whispering sickeningly seductive words in his ear while unzipping his jeans, Kimi having long given up protesting.
How the stranger’s eyes had looked him up and down like he was a piece of meat, licking his lips like he wanted to devour Kimi by himself.
How the man had slid his fingers in one by one, smirking at every pained sound and expression Kimi made, begging for him to stop out of discomfort.
Before his mind can force him to relive more of the horrific memories, his manager stops the car in front of the hotel lobby, snapping Kimi out of his train of thought.
“Get some real rest, yeah? You look like shit.” His manager comments, clapping Kimi on the back in his typical friendly manner. Kimi only grunts in response, trying to pretend as if the familiar and comforting touch didn’t feel just as pervasive as the stranger’s hands.
The lock is immediately turned on Kimi’s hotel room door, with the “Do Not Disturb” sign hanging on the outside. Here, Kimi finally remembers everything that happened.
He had had a few too many drinks. Met a stranger who took him back to his place, and forced him into something he didn’t want to.
He knows what has happened, but he doesn’t want to say anything out loud. Admitting it happened to him would make him seem weak, make him seem foolish that he, the Iceman of all people, should allow something like that to happen to him.
And to top it off… he was a man! What he was displaying right now definitely was not the ideal of masculinity that he had been taught.
Furthermore, he was someone people looked up to, with how many fans he had. What would the world think of him, the ice-cold racer, being taken advantage of, being vulnerable…
He collapses back on the door, sliding down until he hits the floor. Curling up at the door of his hotel room sounded like a pretty comforting idea at that moment, so that was what he did. Pulling his legs as close to his chest as possible, as if they could protect him from everything else.
The tears had started falling, blurring Kimi’s vision and wracking his chest with uncontrollable sobs. He hadn’t cried in years. But here he was now.
The next few hours were a complete blur. Kimi vaguely remembers his breath speeding up and his heart rate increasing, realising only after that he had a panic attack. The rest of the time was spent lying on the carpet of his hotel room, as far from the bed as possible.
A part of him died that night. Racing affairs had already pushed him to adopt his uncaring facade, yet this made everything so much more worse. Perhaps it was because he cared too much about what happened, or what would happen after, but Kimi felt a part of him shatter and melt away.
After that incident, Kimi schools himself into being even more stoic, even more cold to the press and everyone else. The only way to make sure this never happened again was to keep his guard up. Never let anyone close again.
This time, he was determined to be guarded. To convince everyone that the real Kimi Räikkönen, the one that cared too much, the one that felt too deeply, never existed at all. He’d get all of them used to the cold hearted, unbothered Iceman, and make them forget about who he really was, to keep himself safe.
He’s certain the other drivers have noticed this subtle change, Kimi no longer staying to chat as often as he used to, barely showing any enthusiasm at all when he does. Him spending all his time poring over his data just so he could avoid having to interact with anyone else.
He still drinks as much as before, however, always alone. By himself, where he knows no one will be able to reach him, do anything to him when he can’t defend himself. He couldn’t bring himself to quit drinking, after all. It numbed the pain. The pain of what happened, and the pain of everything that came before it.
Kimi makes it through the season, running on caffeine, alcohol and distractions. His McLaren is as shit as usual, but he still manages to achieve some somewhat decent results. He himself is surprised, as he didn’t think he would even survive through the year with the heavy mental toll everything was taking for him.
The new seasons starts. And Kimi is in a new team. A fresh environment, with unfamiliar faces, unfamiliar equipment. Kimi’s newfound terror of strangers only serves to complicate things. Still, the change from McLaren to Ferrari was not unwelcome.
He’d made it clear he hated physical touch on his first few days, where one of the engineers came up to him, clapping a hand on his back. This caused Kimi to flinch, hard, and jerk away from the engineer with an alarmed expression. His brain still had a hard time processing whether touch was a threat or not.
One vaguely threatening “Don’t. Touch. Me.” was all it took for the team to understand, thankfully.
Kimi poured all his focus into the season. Racing at his best, or he at least tried to. It helped take his mind away from the past. And the distraction was very much welcome, and even rewarded, for that very year, he won the championship by a narrow margin of 1 point.
He’d gotten his name in the list of champions, but the effort that it took, he would probably never be comfortable enough to share.
Finally, he’d warmed up to people again. He started acting like he used to, felt like he was being normal again. The incident still haunted him, but he did a good job hiding it away.
Naively, he’d thought that he could finally let the Iceman melt away, give the real him a chance to reappear again.
And just when he thought he could finally start to trust someone again, the universe showed him that perhaps he would never find peace and stability.
Despite Kimi winning the championship the previous year, the team decided to ignore his brilliant achievement.
It was obvious that they favoured Felipe Massa. Something about securing a sponsorship with Santander, or so he heard, who apparently, favoured Massa.
Small errors and biases were made, just enough for no speculation to be made, but Kimi wasn’t stupid. The car was developed for Massa. The strategy errors that popped up in the worst places. The changes in his setup that no one ever thought to inform him of.
All so they could… what? Get a Spanish driver on the team? Make Santander happy and kick off a successful driver?
One thing was for sure, Ferrari had betrayed Kimi’s trust, and there was no earning it back. All the months of slow progress he had made to be more open, more like who he really was, all went down the drain.
The Iceman was back, as if he had never left. This time, he never stayed behind. He never talked unless necessary. And he continued drinking, and drinking away.
That year, his good friend, Sebastian had started racing in Formula One as well. And he would like to pretend that he didn’t notice the look of concern that the young German gave him every time he passed by him without speaking a word, as if they were strangers to each other.
One thing Kimi knew Seb was, he was perceptive. Knowing the German could see right through his facade, he continued to keep it up anyways. Because after only two and a half years at Ferrari, he was replaced.
The next two years spent rallying helped clear his mind. Of course, with the peace that it brought, the bad days began to feel even worse. Sometimes, he’d wake up from a vivid nightmare of that day, shaking and crying.
It was exhausting. Yet Kimi refused help, insisting he was fine despite falling apart internally. The Iceman didn’t need help. And even if he did, he would never tell anyone what he needed help for.
After rallying, it was back to Formula One. Seb had already secured himself two World Driver’s Championships while he was away, driving a completely different car through natural terrain.
Even though they hadn’t kept in much contact, Kimi still felt immense pride in what his friend had managed to accomplish, and at such a young age at that.
This time, he was with Lotus. Yet another new and strange environment, filled with people he didn’t know, and things he’d have to get used to.
It didn’t match up at all to Ferrari or McLaren, but it was decent enough. He was doing pretty alright, all things considered.
His habits hadn’t changed. Still drinking hard, still flinching away from everyone who got too close. Yet, the only thing that was different now, was that Seb didn’t stay quiet this time.
One day, after a very average race, Kimi retreated to his hotel room, having intended to spend the time participating in his unhealthy coping mechanism, drinking. Unfortunately, by the time he had gotten to his room and locked the door, there was a knock.
Through the peephole, he could see that it was none other than the young German driver and his good friend, Sebastian Vettel himself.
“Kimi, can I come in? I need to talk to you.” he asked, standing patiently outside the door.
“Talk about what? Leave me alone.” Kimi grumbled, not happy that his personal time had been abruptly interrupted.
“Please, Kimi. It’s important.” Seb begs, using that pleasing voice of his that Kimi could never say no to. And nothing seems to have changed despite the almost no contact they went for the past two years, for Kimi instantly gave in, unlocking the door for the German.
“Kimi.” Seb mutters, eyeing him up and down, as if trying to make sure the man in front of him really was his friend.
“What?” Kimi snaps, clearly irritated.
“Something’s wrong. I know there is.” Seb blurts out, instantly causing Kimi’s eyes to widen in shock at what he just heard. Seb had caught on, despite how well he had been acting. And it wouldn’t be long before he discovered the one thing Kimi tried to keep hidden.
“Nothing is wrong. I am fine.” Kimi insists, a little too defensively, it seems, for Seb only narrows his eyes and continues speaking.
“You haven’t been… you for a while. I can tell.”
Kimi does his best to not show the dread he is feeling on his face. He doesn’t need Seb to catch onto anything more than he already has.
“I’ve known you for years, Kimi. You haven’t been the same for a long while now. Something changed. I can tell. You’re not very good at hiding things.” Sebastian pressed, clearly not intent on letting this go.
Kimi stays silent for a few seconds, staring into Seb’s blue eyes, filled with determination and worry. A pang of guilt hit him when he realised that it was his fault Sebastian was this concerned, and begrudgingly gave a reply.
“Fine… I’m not okay, alright? Happy?”
“Yeah. You could’ve said something to me at least, you know? I’m your friend. I would have helped.” Seb says, his tone gentle and understanding.
“I don’t like talking about my problems.” Kimi mumbles.
“I know you don’t like concerning anyone with your problems, but you clearly need help, Kimi. You haven’t been the same. You refuse to talk to anyone, and you hate being touched. I’m lucky to even be talking to you right now. Something happened, Kimi. Don’t try to pretend otherwise. You don’t have to tell me what happened, but you just need to trust me, okay? You don’t have to deal with this alone. I can’t promise I can help you with everything, but I’m willing to listen if you don’t want to go to anyone else.”
Seb reaches a hand out, almost as if to place a gentle touch on Kimi’s shoulder, but decides against it. Kimi is surprised at himself for being mildly disappointed that Seb pulled away.
“F-fine…” He grumbles, giving into Seb’s demands. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have someone finally willing to help.
Truth be told, he was terrified. Scared that even though Seb had offered to listen, he may well take that offer back at any time, judge him for what he shared, maybe even deem Kimi hopeless. He didn’t want to be vulnerable.
After Seb leaves, he stands there for a long while, thoughts brewing in his head endlessly.
He was the Iceman. He had been the Iceman for a very long time. The real Kimi Räikkönen had died in him that night.
The Iceman never talked to anyone, the Iceman never showed emotion. The Iceman never cared unnecessarily, never showed weakness. But then came Seb, begging him to do the complete opposite, begging the Iceman to open up to him, melt away.
Begging for Kimi Räikkönen to return again.
It took a long while before Kimi finally mustered up the courage to approach Seb. He didn’t trust him as much as he used to, but the German listened.
As Kimi still wasn’t comfortable talking about the past, he talked about the present. About how racing was, how he felt about the car, things like that. Although he had known for a while that Seb was a good and sympathetic listener, he was still surprised at how the little nods of encouragement Seb gave him with every few sentences helped to comfort him, just in the slightest.
Eventually, as the days went by, and Kimi got used to Lotus, he started to regain a semblance of his old friendship with Seb again.
He found himself smiling at the jokes Seb told, and actually offering more than just a grunt when talking to the German. Even the slight brushes whenever they accidentally walked too close to each other didn’t feel as startling and uncomfortable as it originally did.
Slowly and steadily, under Sebastian’s influence, the Iceman was starting to melt away, revealing the man underneath, the one with feelings and care. The Kimi Räikkönen that might have been lost forever.
With the slow return of their friendship, came the slow return of everything else they had once shared. The small feeling of warmth that had disappeared after that day started to resurface again, when Seb was around. When he laughed, that sound somehow making Kimi’s heart flutter in a way that it hadn’t for years.
And finally, years later, Kimi realises what he had felt for Seb all along wasn’t admiration or pride, it was infatuation. He liked the man. And judging by how quickly his feelings had submerged, he probably hadn’t stopped liking him, despite everything.
He keeps quiet about the realisation. He doesn’t seem like it’s worth sharing right now, not when they had started building back the foundations of the bond they had once shared.
Besides, there was no way Seb liked him back. He was eight years older than the man, an age gap that definitely would leave him out of contention in Seb’s eyes. To Seb, he was probably too cold, too stoic, too uncaring for a relationship.
He’s terrified of losing Seb again. The man was so willing to bring him back despite Kimi having been the one to push him away in the first place. Kimi isn’t willing to risk pushing him away again with the feelings he himself has only begun to come to terms with.
Eventually, a season goes by, and Kimi is more like himself again. Smiles grace his face more often, and he actually bothers to give the occasional one liner instead of muttering “bwoah” and bailing.
He’s able to tolerate Seb’s hand resting casually on his shoulder, when the man walks too close to him, bumping shoulders more than once. He even works up the courage to let Seb hold his hand, which surprisingly, doesn’t activate his fight or flight response for once.
They get closer and closer each day, and Kimi’s feelings only become more prominent. The hesitance to interact is no longer there. The binge drinking has slowed, giving way to long talks with the German over the phone.
Kimi finds himself happier than he has ever been in years, in a way not even standing on the first place pedestal, being showered in winner’s champagne could make him feel.
They’re slowly working towards gaining back their old friendship, and for once it seems like they are almost at the finish line. Almost at what they used to be. Kimi still flinches and hesitates a little each time, but it’s gotten better.
One day, he is sitting next to Seb on his hotel bed. The German had snuck in, and Kimi didn’t have the heart to tell him to scram. Seb was talking about something funny that happened in his day, and Kimi was listening.
However, he was more focused on Seb’s hand than his words, craving the touch of his dear friend. His fingers slowly reached out for Seb’s, plagued with hesitation still.
Desire outweighs his doubts, and Kimi finds himself interlocking his fingers with Seb’s, his hand on top of the German’s, relishing the warm sensation of the back of Seb’s hand pressing into his palm.
“And then I- “ Seb pauses as soon as he feels the Finn’s hand over his, squeezing tightly. Kimi watches as his dear friend smiles sweetly, making his heart flutter involuntarily.
The German flips his hand around, so interlocking fingers is more comfortable. A feeling of warmth spreads through Kimi’s cheeks and he looks away, flustered.
Sebastian stops talking, and the two sit there in silence, holding hands.
And Kimi prays that Seb doesn’t notice, as he shifts ever closer towards him. The distance is eventually enough for him to hesitantly lay his head on Seb’s shoulder, which he does.
“Is today a special occasion?” Seb teases, causing Kimi to grumble and nestle even more into the crook of Sebastian’s neck.
They stay like that until Kimi dozes off, and Seb takes it as a cue to leave. Kimi is completely unaware of the younger man noticing just how tightly Kimi clings to him even in sleep, as if he was the one thing that he could not afford to lose.
Eventually, Seb sneaking into Kimi’s hotel room is no longer a rare occurrence. Over time, Seb is allowed to stay for longer periods of time, to the point where he even spends some nights in Kimi’s hotel room..
They work their way through acts of intimacy, Kimi letting Seb spoon him from behind, letting the comforting warmth of the German envelop him, washing away all his previous doubts. He is pleasantly surprised to find himself enjoying the touch just as much as he craves it.
Kimi rolls over, pressing his cheek against Seb’s chest, listening to the younger man’s heart beat. Everything is oddly soothing, and Kimi finds himself inching closer to Seb, snuggling into him.
The German responds by placing one arm around Kimi’s waist, pulling him impossibly close, with the other toying with Kimi’s hair, fingers running through the soft blond locks.
“I- I think I’m ready to unpack everything…” Kimi mumbles, looking up at Seb with half-lidded eyes.
“Ok. Whenever you’re ready. I’m listening.” Seb replies, a reassuring smile on his face as he continues to mess with Kimi’s hair, encouraging him to go on.
“Mhm… so…” He starts, taking a deep breath before telling Seb what he has been keeping to himself for years.
He confesses to Seb what happened that night, what that man did to him. Why he shut down after that day. His words are vague and stuttered, but he knows Seb understands.
“I-I was out for drinks after McLaren tried to make me do media… Then a guy came up to me after I drank a little too much… took me back to his place. N-next thing I knew… woke up in his bed, naked. I just ran. Absolutely disgusted with myself. Didn’t want anyone to know that this happened to the fucking Iceman…”
With every silent nod that his dear friend gives him, he finds the courage to admit what happened to him, spilling his deepest secret to Seb, who listens first and comments later.
“-A-and so I just cut everyone off I guess… I couldn’t deal with anything after that… I thought it would be easier to pretend I was fine if no one cared enough to pay attention…” Kimi mumbles, pressing his face into Seb’s chest, hiding from whatever reaction he was bound to have.
“This is why you worry me, Kimi. You’d rather bury your problems and pretend nothing is wrong. And you’re so good at it, that only makes me care more. It hurts to see you so broken, Kimi. It hurts to see you facing all this alone.” Seb says, sighing and petting Kimi’s head far more gently now, trying to comfort him.
“I’ll admit… it took me far too long to reach out to you. I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry for making you believe you had to face it all alone without making it clear that I was willing to help.” Seb continues, apologising so sincerely it makes Kimi’s chest ache, and his breath hitch. Before he can interrupt and tell Seb that none of this was his fault and he shouldn’t need to apologise, Seb did that for him.
“I know you’re going to tell me that I had nothing to do with this, and I did nothing wrong. But I still want to apologise. Because seeing you suffer alone hurts, Kimi. You don’t realise it because you’re so used to it, but I don’t want you to have to live like this anymore. So… I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not telling you I cared. Because I really do.”
Kimi feels the tears well up in the corners of his eyes, staining Seb’s T-shirt as a rush of emotions that he can’t identify floods him.
“From now on, let’s both trust each other with our secrets, okay?” Seb suggests, and Kimi nods into his chest.
“Promise…?” It comes out shakier than Kimi would like, but as he hears Seb repeat the word with conviction, relief spreads through him, and he finds himself once again comfortable in Seb’s embrace.
For the first time in forever, he feels safe with another person, and he doesn’t mind it at all.
He can feel the walls he’s built up slowly crumble as he relaxes into Seb, letting the years of doubt and distrust fall to irrelevance in the younger man’s presence.
The words “trust each other with our secrets” keeps repeating over and over in Kimi’s mind throughout the following week, like a broken record he hadn’t bothered to replace.
While he had told Seb about the incident in the past, and it did feel absolutely wonderful to get something as major as that off his chest, there was one more secret he was yet to confess.
Kimi was still rather hesitant. How was he supposed to tell Seb that he liked him, when he had spent so long hiding his feelings away?
Eventually, the day came when he least expected it. The two of them were relaxing in Seb’s hotel room, Kimi having snuck out of his hotel just to visit.
Seb was lying next to him on the bed, eyes closed, expression so peaceful that Kimi wanted to shift closer to the German and kiss those gorgeous blond curls of his.
He shifted closer, but he didn’t dare kiss him. Instead, he shakily lifted a finger to brush a stray lock of hair out of Seb’s face.
The German stirred slightly at the light touch, and Kimi’s heart fluttered as Seb almost nuzzled into his finger.
“I love you.” He whispered, still believing that Seb was fully asleep.
“Love you too.” Seb whispers back, and Kimi stills. The German’s eyes are half open, a sleepy expression on his face, paired with his usual grin, made him look all the more stunning.
“I thought you were asleep.” Kimi says, acutely aware of the fact that his cheeks were probably the same colour as his Ferrari team kit.
“When were you going to tell me, Kimi?” Seb asks, almost playfully.
“I don’t know.” It was the truth, he hadn’t really figured out when he would tell Seb that he liked, or had fallen in love with him. He hadn’t even meant for Seb to hear him, the words had just slipped out almost naturally.
“I’m glad I heard it. Now come here and cuddle with me. I love you too.” Seb was so cute like this, so sweet and caring, Kimi immediately melted into his warm embrace.
They stayed like that for a while, both enjoying each other’s warmth. Seb had accepted Kimi’s feelings, and even reciprocated them. It was certainly a shock, but Kimi secretly appreciated the fact that Seb hadn’t made a big deal about it, and instead invited him to cuddle.
God, it was great.
In that moment, with Seb’a arms circling his waist, his warm breath tickling his neck, Kimi has never felt more safe.
The last of the “Iceman” melts away completely. There, in the arms of Sebastian Vettel, lies Kimi Räikkönen, calm and content for the first time in forever.
There is no reason to be tense or on edge when he is wirh the German; everything is fine in his presence.
Someone finally saw him for who he truly was. He still cared too much, but maybe caring about Seb wasn’t the worst thing in the world. He wanted to be selfish, and keep Seb for his own. The one man who made Kimi feel cared for, right there next to him.
For the first time in ages, Kimi doesn’t run. He doesn’t make any excuses, he doesn’t say anything self-deprecating.
In that very moment, he is at last, happy to be loved.