Fic: Demons (Kimi, Fernando)
Here's a little something different - a serious Kimi, Fernando fic!!
Let me know if you think it works :-)
Demons
As he ran on the treadmill, he emptied his mind of all thoughts and let the hypnotic whirr of the machine and the slap slap of his feet, as they pounded on the belt, lull him into a trance-like state.
Kimi didn't care that it was 3am and that he was the only one mad enough to use the hotel gym at this ridiculous hour. He couldn't sleep and needed something - anything - to stop his mind turning over and over. He rarely let himself worry about the championship or his contract or the 101 other things everyone was on his back about. But in the pitch black of a sleepless night it was as if his consciousness had rebelled and forced him to face the decisions he needed to make.
His consciousness could go and get fucked; Kimi refused to dwell on anything but the next race - he had managers to sweat the small stuff. And so he ran and ran until he couldn't feel his legs and his lungs ached in his chest.
His breath wheezing, he finally slowed the treadmill to a halt and grabbed the towel hanging from the handlebars to wipe his face. When he lowered it, he saw he was no longer alone in the room; Fernando Alonso was leaning against a pillar watching him.
Fernando broke the silence first,
"Couldn't sleep either?"
Still panting, Kimi looked at him and shook his head.
"Me neither. I was tossing and turning so much, by bed looked like a war zone."
Kimi grinned.
Fernando laughed in response, "Nothing like that; you know what I mean."
Kimi nodded, "Demons?"
Fernando's smile faded and a look of resignation took its place, "Yeah - you too?"
Kimi slung the towel round his neck and grabbed his water bottle from off the floor. He didn't answer immediately, but instead took a swig of water and moved towards Fernando. As he walked he studied his rival's face. By the time they'd got to F1, most drivers had learnt how to hide their emotions and true feeling in front of the press and public. Some were better than others and some just didn't bother, loving the public attention. Fernando was very good at it. He would use his supposedly moody temperament to say things to the press that sounded spontaneous; like they were candid off-the-cuff remarks revealing more than what should be said.
Kimi knew better. Kimi knew that Fernando was an expert at saying only precisely what he wanted and using the best way to get his message across. Kimi's own method of saying virtually nothing was, on the face of it, the exact opposite. But in reality both approaches worked - the media never got close to the source of either of them.
Kimi's study of Fernando was to see if he had his 'media face' on or if that had been left behind on the bed along with the mussy sheets.
He couldn't tell.
He decided he didn't care; what did it matter? Fernando might want his seat at Ferrari but then so did at least 15 other drivers. It didn't affect anything between them.
"Yes - me too."
Fernando nodded slowly, acknowledging their mutual dilemma. He gazed into Kimi's eyes like he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.
The thought that maybe talking about it with Fernando might be a good idea, flittered into Kimi's brain - they were in similar boats; both world champions with big decisions to make. But he hesitated, not knowing how to make the offer. For a frozen second the two of them stood facing each other like deers caught in the headlights. And then, feeling ridiculous, Kimi shook off the notion.
Covering his temporary aberration into the touchy-feely with another slug of water, Kimi waved his free hand in the direction of the treadmill,
"I don't know if it helps, but it's all yours if you want to give it a go."
Fernando glanced over at the treadmill with a deflated sigh, "Thanks, maybe I will; nothing else has worked."
Kimi stepped aside to let Fernando pass and watched him fiddle with the controls before starting the treadmill on a slow walk. Realising he was staring, Kimi turned away as the sound of Fernando's feet beginning to run washed over him.
Leaving Fernando to sort out his own demons, Kimi left the gym with a sense of loss he couldn't explain.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Let me know if you think it works :-)
Demons
As he ran on the treadmill, he emptied his mind of all thoughts and let the hypnotic whirr of the machine and the slap slap of his feet, as they pounded on the belt, lull him into a trance-like state.
Kimi didn't care that it was 3am and that he was the only one mad enough to use the hotel gym at this ridiculous hour. He couldn't sleep and needed something - anything - to stop his mind turning over and over. He rarely let himself worry about the championship or his contract or the 101 other things everyone was on his back about. But in the pitch black of a sleepless night it was as if his consciousness had rebelled and forced him to face the decisions he needed to make.
His consciousness could go and get fucked; Kimi refused to dwell on anything but the next race - he had managers to sweat the small stuff. And so he ran and ran until he couldn't feel his legs and his lungs ached in his chest.
His breath wheezing, he finally slowed the treadmill to a halt and grabbed the towel hanging from the handlebars to wipe his face. When he lowered it, he saw he was no longer alone in the room; Fernando Alonso was leaning against a pillar watching him.
Fernando broke the silence first,
"Couldn't sleep either?"
Still panting, Kimi looked at him and shook his head.
"Me neither. I was tossing and turning so much, by bed looked like a war zone."
Kimi grinned.
Fernando laughed in response, "Nothing like that; you know what I mean."
Kimi nodded, "Demons?"
Fernando's smile faded and a look of resignation took its place, "Yeah - you too?"
Kimi slung the towel round his neck and grabbed his water bottle from off the floor. He didn't answer immediately, but instead took a swig of water and moved towards Fernando. As he walked he studied his rival's face. By the time they'd got to F1, most drivers had learnt how to hide their emotions and true feeling in front of the press and public. Some were better than others and some just didn't bother, loving the public attention. Fernando was very good at it. He would use his supposedly moody temperament to say things to the press that sounded spontaneous; like they were candid off-the-cuff remarks revealing more than what should be said.
Kimi knew better. Kimi knew that Fernando was an expert at saying only precisely what he wanted and using the best way to get his message across. Kimi's own method of saying virtually nothing was, on the face of it, the exact opposite. But in reality both approaches worked - the media never got close to the source of either of them.
Kimi's study of Fernando was to see if he had his 'media face' on or if that had been left behind on the bed along with the mussy sheets.
He couldn't tell.
He decided he didn't care; what did it matter? Fernando might want his seat at Ferrari but then so did at least 15 other drivers. It didn't affect anything between them.
"Yes - me too."
Fernando nodded slowly, acknowledging their mutual dilemma. He gazed into Kimi's eyes like he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.
The thought that maybe talking about it with Fernando might be a good idea, flittered into Kimi's brain - they were in similar boats; both world champions with big decisions to make. But he hesitated, not knowing how to make the offer. For a frozen second the two of them stood facing each other like deers caught in the headlights. And then, feeling ridiculous, Kimi shook off the notion.
Covering his temporary aberration into the touchy-feely with another slug of water, Kimi waved his free hand in the direction of the treadmill,
"I don't know if it helps, but it's all yours if you want to give it a go."
Fernando glanced over at the treadmill with a deflated sigh, "Thanks, maybe I will; nothing else has worked."
Kimi stepped aside to let Fernando pass and watched him fiddle with the controls before starting the treadmill on a slow walk. Realising he was staring, Kimi turned away as the sound of Fernando's feet beginning to run washed over him.
Leaving Fernando to sort out his own demons, Kimi left the gym with a sense of loss he couldn't explain.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~