Chapter Text
Mike doesn't understand why some of his friends call him a workaholic. He just likes to count the days until his foot is finally in the paddock again, feeling the rush running through his veins. Or until he wins more than once in Montreal to—maybe—make his parents proud. It doesn't mean he's addicted to his job or anything.
Mike just hates staying in the deep silence of his own house. He's actually a hypocrite, since he hates loud noise and should enjoy the silence.
Another one of his hypocrisies is that Mike hates noise, but he definitely loves the sound of the engine screaming in his ears and the cheers the audience shouts from the bleachers.
The only thing about the fame that Mike loves is having all eyes on him. Mike Wheeler loves the attention he gets from the audience and his fans. But right now, the only driver the people on the bleachers are paying attention to is the new guy Ferrari just signed.
He's not actually new at Formula One.
It's fucking Will Byers. The man every motorsport fan wanted to know about for three years after his retirement following the 2023 season. 29 wins, too young for that much talent. He also was too young when he retired, becoming a topic everyone brings up again at the start of every season.
Always stealing everyone else’s attention.
Especially Mike's attention, so much that it's the reason why he can't keep the car within the track limits.
“Damnit!” He shouted over the radio, his voice full of frustration.
“Relax, Mike. It's just free practice, Jesus!” Nancy's voice came through the radio, he could practically see her rolling her eyes.
He didn't answer, just kept driving, trying to focus and relax since it was only practice. But every time he took a deep breath, he remembered that notification.
racerwillbyers started following you.
Just an hour after he was announced as a Ferrari driver, breaking the internet, while Mike had been this close to throwing his phone out of the window when the fucking Instagram notification popped up on his screen. It meant nothing.
Only that Byers would be a huge distraction this season, and if Mike wanted to prove he was doing fine, his concentration would have to double.
“Byers is-” Nancy cut herself off at the exact second a red car overtook the Mercedes like it was nothing. “-right behind you,” she finished, almost breathless.
“Their cars are good this year,” she added.
Mike only caught a glimpse of the Ferrari taking the Albert Park Circuit corner perfectly. His ears filled with the Doppler effect and his eyebrows furrowed almost immediately. He had already said that Will was a genius driver, and that was the one thing Mike couldn't deny. Byers had just come back from a three-year retirement. Three years without stepping into a Formula One car and yet the son of bitch was still one of the best.
He cleared his throat, shifting in his seat as his fingers tightened around the steering wheel.
“Right, let 's see if it's that good.” Mike answers, pressing his foot down on the accelerator, just waiting for the door to overtake Will open.
He just wanted to have a little fun. Free practice was boring for him anyways. Why not a short race with the guy the audience calls his best friend?
As he kept getting closer and closer to the back of the Ferrari, he could see that Will had already noticed his presence and his intentions, closing every opportunity Mike might find to overtake him.
“Really? In free practice? So original.” His sister mocked him, but he ignored her, flexing the fingers around the wheel.
The track at Albert Park Circuit is generally considered to be a fast, flowing and relatively easy track for drivers to learn and find a good rhythm. And yet, somehow, Mike always found a way to lose here. Maybe it was the corners. Maybe the pressure. Maybe he was just in a bad mood every time he came to Australia.
It definitely had nothing to do with the fact that it was Will's home race.
Mike actually had big problems when it came to winning races. In his entire career he had only won eight races, one of them in Canada. When it came to whether he was a good driver or not, he managed to split the internet in two. A large part defended him, the Mercedes engineers really hadn't put that much effort into the cars in recent years. Meanwhile, another part simply claimed that Mike had bought his seat in Formula One.
He always acted like it didn't affect him, but he realized he was terrible at hiding his own feelings, since Nancy strangely treated him more gently whenever he made mistakes on track.
Mike wasn't a bad driver. Formula One demands a lot from the human body, and it's not just about the physical aspect, your mental health has to be at least somewhat taken care of. And the last few years haven't been very kind to him.
There were only five minutes left in the practice session.
They had been doing this for a few minutes now. Will wouldn't give up the position, closing Mike off at every corner. And whenever the Mercedes looked like it might come side by side with the Ferrari, Byers quickly found a way to push Mike back again.
As they came out of another corner and reached the straight, Mike finally broke through Will's strategy and the cars were side by side. Sometimes Mike stole quick glances at Will, but the driver didn't return any of them, his fingers flexing against the steering wheel.
Will hadn't changed much. Still extremely competitive in the sport which the public loved.
The steering wheel vibrated in his hands and his eyes forced themselves to stay open, any impulsive movement from Will could send him straight off the track.
Both cars were good enough. Mike now believed that all the work the engineers had poured into this car, the endless nights in the factory had been worth it.
Not only were both cars good, but both drivers were stubborn. The next corner would be tight, and one of them would have to give up the position unless they wanted to risk damaging the car or spinning off the track.
Nancy would kill Mike if he crashed the car in free practice, just one day before qualifying.
He really thought Will might be kind enough to let him pass, but the red car closed the door on him again. And before Mike could brake late for the corner, the rear tires locked up and he lost control of the car, smoke flooding his vision as he spun off the track.
“Good job.” Mike rolled his eyes as he heard his sister's voice again with the sarcastic commentary.
The driver took a deep breath. His eyes returned to the track as he watched the Ferrari disappear from his reach while he removed the steering wheel from the car.
“Yeah, the car is good,” he finally answers.
He couldn't believe that a guy who hadn't set foot on a Formula One track in three years was driving better than him.
*****
“I never thought I'd say something like this,” Max said on their way to the Mercedes garage, “but I've never seen you drive this badly.”
“It's just free practice.”
Whenever Mike says and mentions his “friends” in interviews or conversations, he's specifically talking about Max. Out of everyone he met during karting, Mayfield was the one Mike reluctantly chose to keep around.
Max raised an eyebrow, holding her helmet under one arm. “Oh really? So you're going to drive like shit just because it's free practice?”
“Did you see the Ferraris? We don't stand a chance this year. At least not right now!” he said, changing the subject as quickly as possible.
“I had Chance right behind me.”
“You have to be kidding.” A giggle escaped his mouth as he finally looked at her.
It was unbelievable that Chance was still in Formula One and even more unbelievable that he was a Ferrari driver.
Max glanced back quickly, a smirk slowly appearing on her lips.
“He can't drive,” Mayfield shrugged. “The other Ferrari was literally flying, you should've seen the way Byers passed me!”
A shiver ran down his spine when he heard the name. “Uh, yeah.”
Mike felt his side burn under the look Max gave him. He hated her ability to read him perfectly after all these years of friendship, so he looked away toward the Ferrari garage they were passing.
“... Oh, I see now why you're losing this weekend.”
He frowned, running his hands through his damp hair before looking back at Mayfield.
“I’m only going to ask once. Does this have something to do with–”
“Nice start, Wheeler!” A voice called from behind him, the distance short between them and the garage they had just passed.
And speaking of him.
“I thought I was going to get dizzy from how many times you spun on the track.” Byers crossed his arms as he approached the pair, his red racing suit tied loosely around his waist.
Byers couldn't be on any team other than Scuderia Ferrari. Red suited him extremely well. It highlighted his naturally flushed skin, and his green eyes looked brighter. He hadn't changed much over the years, at least from what Mike remembered. Will was still the same. His athletic body had grown stronger, and he finally seemed to have gotten rid of the bowl cut that had followed him for years.
Damp strands of hair stuck to the driver's forehead, his cheeks more flushed than usual. Mike quickly met Will's gaze, like perfect magnets that always managed to pull his attention. The rays of sunlight cutting between them illuminated his face, making it easy for Mike to notice the pair of earrings and the necklace around Will's neck.
Mike held his breath as his arms crossed over his chest, silently cursing himself when he realized he had been staring too long, feeling his blood heat through his veins.
Mike was sure it was just the adrenaline.
The redhead beside him cleared her throat, snapping him out of his trance.
“For someone who spent three years without stepping in a Formula One car, you're going pretty well,” Mike said, already regretting it before he even finished the sentence.
He watched painfully as Will tilted his head, intrigued. Mike's gaze slipped to any point behind the other drivers, searching for any way to escape the situation.
“Hey, Will, are you coming?” Chance called from the entrance of the garage, drawing the attention of all three drivers.
Mike used the moment when Will turned to answer his teammate to look at Maxine, who seemed to be thinking the same thing, her blue eyes wide.
“Yeah, coming,” Will shouted back, his attention briefly returning to the two of them. “See you guys at dinner.” A smile spread across his lips before he disappeared through the paddock.
It only took seconds for Mike to tilt his head back. Then he dragged a hand down his face, pressing his fingertips against his closed eyelids until colors burst behind them.
“He mocked you,” Max began, “and you flirted with him?” The disbelief in the redhead's voice was impossible to miss.
He didn't have an answer for that. He hadn't rehearsed how he would talk to Byers, hadn't even expected to interact with Will at all and he was sure he hadn't flirted with him.
“I haven't spoken to him in three years. How the hell was I supposed to react?” he asked, lowering his hands from his face.
Max looked over the taller figure in front of her, her expression unreadable while Mike waited for any reaction from the redhead.
She took a deep breath and started toward her team’s garage.
“You're fucked up, Wheeler.” It was all Max said before disappearing into the crowd as well.
Mike couldn't help but agree with Max.
And the worst part hadn't even happened yet: the drivers' dinner later that night. Something that used to be satisfying for Mike, interacting with his colleagues before the competitive spirit of the sport took over their bodies.
But this year will be different.
And he wasn't just talking about the dinner.