Work Text:
April 2016 FORMULA 1 ROOKIE MAX VERSTAPPEN AND HOCKEY STAR ILYA ROZANOV SEEN TOGETHER! Read more here!
May 2016 ILYA ROZANOV SEEN AT THE RUSSIAN GRAND PRIX, WEARING RED BULL’S COLORS! SEE MORE HERE.
May 2016 MAX VERSTAPPEN CELEBRATES HIS FIRST WIN WITH MARTIN GARRIX AND ILYA ROZANOV. SEE EXCLUSIVE PICS HERE!
June 2016 MAX VERSTAPPEN THANKS ILYA ROZANOV FOR HIS HELP AFTER RECENT CRITICISM… BY MICHAEL SENNA
⭐︎
“Shane?” Rose shook him out of his reverie with her soft voice, soft eyes crinkled with worry; she was soft, and he didn’t know if he liked it because he kept comparing her to— to— “Shane, honey…”
“I’m fine, I’m fine. I promise.” He smiled at her, praying that his smile didn’t look too awkward, too forced. He prayed to whoever listened that the emotions he was feeling weren’t showing on his face. “I just need to go to the bathroom. I’ll come back.”
He practically bounced into the bathroom stall, a panicked breath escaping him. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. Why was this affecting him so much? Ilya was his own person! He was dating Rose, who cares that he seemed to be constantly around this new and shiny Formula 1 wonderkid?
The new Formula 1 twink, a petty voice hissed in his brain, and Shane winced. He had nothing against this Max guy; he didn’t even know him, but he was seemingly around Ilya all the fucking time, and what? How? When did they meet? Was this Max another of Ilya’s conquests?
Oh god. Max was practically underage. What the fuck was wrong with Shane, holy shit.
He quickly searched Max Verstappen on his iPhone and reeled back in shock. Eighteen. Freshly eighteen. The green monster came back to him, whispering filth at him as if mocking Shane. Oh god.
He kept looking. He was curious, sue him. He didn’t even think about Rose, who was waiting for him on his couch.
Max Verstappen: Youngest F1 Race Winner. Most Overtakes in a Season. Youngest F1 Podium Finisher. Youngest Driver to Lead a Lap.
He could feel his stomach churning at the accolades, thinking how Ilya always admired talented people. How Ilya loved fast cars, something that Shane had never even talked to him about. How both Max and Ilya were european, and their languages—russian and… was it german?—were regarded as one of the most difficult to learn in the world.
He saw a video of Max, apparently in his very expensive Formula 1 car, with rain falling heavily around him, and what the fuck? He lost control of the car, and with a quick movement, his car was perfectly positioned again. How the fuck did he do that?
His temple was sweaty, the anxiety bubbling in his stomach only growing as he kept watching more and more miraculous things this teenager had apparently done. Did Ilya forget about him already?
As he scrolled, he clicked into one of the articles he had seen during his dinner with Rose, swallowing the bile threatening to overcome him.
ILYA ROZANOV SEEN AT THE RUSSIAN GRAND PRIX, WEARING RED BULL’S COLORS!
Ilya looked beautiful, fuck. The dark blue of the Red Bull palette really made him pop, and the just barely legal Max Verstappen right beside him made him look even bigger. Ilya was laughing at Max, who was fiddling with some kind of headphones. Shane couldn’t focus.
Since when did they know each other? When had this happened? Shane had been aware of Ilya’s love for fast cars; he had boasted about it whenever he could, but he didn’t know he was that entrenched in the Formula One world.
He opened Twitter quickly, searching Ilya Rozanov Formula 1, and his stomach dropped even more. Pictures of Ilya from 2014 with Lewis Hamilton, celebrating his World Title. Ilya dancing with Lewis Hamilton, and apparently, someone called Daniel Ricciardo. Ilya and Lewis, again and again, with many others featured in the pictures. And now, Max Verstappen, the Formula 1 future champion, according to everyone.
Shane groaned into his palm, feeling like someone had run him over. He was supposed to forget Ilya, focus on Rose, someone he could date and be with, build a life with, and forget about hiding. Yet, all he could think about was Ilya fucking Rozanov.
⭐︎
nina @ROWDYROZY
WAS SOMEONE GONNA TELL ME THAT ILYA ROZANOV AND MAX VERSTAPPEN KNOW EACH OTHER????
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Replying to @ROWDYROZY
chloe @rozzysock
what. what? where.
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Replying to @rozzysock
nina @ROWDYROZY
HERE BESTIE
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jules @ilyarozalov
guys. guys wdym THE max verstappen and THE ilya rozanov know each other???? and that we have a picture of them????
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Replying to @ilyarozalov
morgen @fxded_stxrs
RIGHT??? this is a crossover i never expected. they are SO alike tho
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leah @weIIingtonkiss
ngl ilya seems like a good mentor for max. he could help him through the media discourse and everything... it just makes sense the more i think about it
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Replying to @weIIingtonkiss
⋆. 𐙚˚࿔ demonican 𝜗𝜚˚@4Z4ROS4_
they are both also. menaces.
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Max Verstappen ✓ @max33verstappen
With my friend @rozanov81 at the #RUSSIANGRANDPRIX2016
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Replying to @max33verstappen
ILYA ✓ @rozanov81
happy to show you around, лев
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Replying to @rozanov81
stephanie @v3rstappn
did you just call max verstappen LITTLE LION?????????
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Replying to @v3rstappn
ILYA @rozanov81
da. he is little and a lion, he said so
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⭐︎
Charles was staring blankly at his phone, a creaking noise coming from the device. Okay, what the fuck? He knew that he didn't know Max that much since he had stayed on F3 and Max had been picked form F1, right-fucking-away. It was a bittersweet feeling, because Charles was proud of him; he didn't say as much to anyone around him, but he had always liked the way Max always took the risks, how he always made Charles go to the limit against him, and the way his talent flowed every time he was inside a car. Max was insanely talented, and Charles was close to chasing him right into F1.
He had resigned himself to being away of his dream, away of the lights, the asphalt, the adrenaline, and focused on F3. He had stayed focused, okay?
But as soon as he opened Twitter, he saw it. By it, Charles meant Ilya fucking Rozanov hanging around Max like he was one of his girls.
Charles knew of Ilya Rozanov. Hockey captain of the Bears. Daniel Ricciardo was his friend, and Charles had seen him around the Monaco paddock once or twice. There were always rumours flowing aroud him. Especially around him, Hamilton and Ricciardo. Their parties together were incredible, according to what he had heard from Jules. Who had nudged him away from them, making sure Charles stayed on the right path before reaching F1.
Now, with Max posting a fucking picture with that man, he felt left out and jealous. There was a possessive need to be around Max, to make everyone know how good he knew him, how their lives had always been intertwinned, from the moment the stepped into the asphalt. He needed everyone to know that Max and him belonged together.
Charles
Rozanov, huh?
Verstappen
??? 😂😂😂😂
Charles
Don't play dumb, Verstapen, it doesn't suit you
Verstappen
you jealous?
Charles
Why would I be, idiot?
Verstappem
well u havent texted me since i moved to f1
and now u ask me about rozzy
mmmmmmm
Charles
Rozzy?
Verstappen
again w asking about him, should i be jealous?? do u have a crush on him??
Charles
You can have him.
Verstappen
have him??
charles
he's like my older brother wtf
Charles
Oh
Verstappen
yeah, oh
so you were jealous
what, you think that i'm looking?
Charles
You could
I mean
You could, Max
Verstappen
wouldn't
rather look at fake french boys
Charles
Max I'm monegasque for fucks sake
Oh
Verstappen
dumb boy
how can u be so smart yet
nevermind
Charles
I would rather look at you too
Verstappen
😉☺️
⭐︎
Shane was hanging out with Hayden, who kept going on and on about some random story his kids told him after coming back from a field trip. Usually, he loved listening to him ramble about the kids. He was their uncle and couldn’t deny that he prided himself on being a good uncle.
But, for some unknown reason, the channel that Hayden had chosen to stop at while rambling was the Formula 1 one. And Shane, as if he wasn’t being haunted enough, saw Lewis Hamilton alongside Max Verstappen, preparing for an interview, two other guys by their sides that Shane didn’t recognize, and he didn't bother to ask. They were total opposites though, one was dressed with the same uniform as Hamilton, his blond hair neat, and the other one was wearing the same uniform as Max, his curls and his smirk reminding Shane about Ilya.
Fuck, everything went back to Ilya.
“Lewis, we will start with you.”
Lewis nodded, moving the microphone to his lips, ready to answer the question. God, he was beautiful. He seemed to be glowing.
“We’ve seen clips of your friendship with Ilya Rozanov, the hockey superstar, resurface this past week. Pictures of you and Ricciardo with Rozanov on multiple clubs together. Could you tell us more about that?”
Hayden groaned, surprised to hear Ilya’s name from a F1 channel. He looked annoyed, yet all Shane could do was trying not to puke. God, he was an hypocrite. He had been the one who left. Then got a girlfriend. And even tok her to a his hockey game, something Ilya and him could never have. Fuck, he had fucked up. Big time.
“What the fuck? They know each other?”
Shane nodded, his laser focused on the TV. "Apparently." He could see Max Verstappen giggling at the question, and it only made Shane’s blood boil. He was a kid.
“Well,” Hamilton answered, “we go way back, actually.” He chuckled, letting the tension rise in the conference room. Ricciardo, the one with the wild curls, nodded in tandem with Hamilton. “We met years ago. We’re only six years apart, if you can believe it! We met at a party and became inseparable, the same with Daniel, and now we see him once a month, because if not, he bullies us.” He rolled his eyes as Max kept giggling. “Also, Ilya has taken to mentoring Max, so we get to see him more.”
“Yeah, Ilya has helped me not to focus on the criticisms, and seeing him bully Hamilton and Ricciardo has made me more open in the paddock.” Max’s smile was more of a smirk, one that reminded Shane and Hayden of a certain russian. “I also bully Hamilton for being old now!”
Ricciardo let out a shriek, matching Max's antics, and everyone but the blond sitting stiffly on his seat laughed.
“God, he’s a bad influence on you, Verstappen. Don’t listen to Rozanov!” Hamilton laughed freely, almost without a care in the world. “But yeah, he’s always been very into F1. He loves fast cars, and the adrenaline of a good ride. I've taken him to many GPs. He’s a very good friend to have! Don’t believe the media too much.”
“He’s a very good friend.” Max nodded with a cheeky smile, winking at Hamilton, who had a barely noticeable blush. “Really, Ilya has made me more confident and not so prone to, uh, how did you all put it? Crashtappen?”
The room became absolutely silent, reporters gasping, and some just staring in shock. The silence was broken by Hamilton choking off a laugh and hitting Verstappen’s arm with a smile. “A totally bad influence for you, kid.”
Shane was staring at the TV with a faraway look, and he felt Hayden start himself for another rant, but he just got up and said his goodbyes. This was too much to process. Friends, said Hamilton. Yet Verstappen’s reaction made Shane feel it meant the same as friendship did for Rozanov and Shane.
Fuck. He had to do something right the fuck now.
⭐︎
toria @81HORSESHOE
so you're telling me. that ilya rozanov and lewis hamilton are friends. and that they go clubbing with ricciardo once a month. and we didn't know about it??? right. right. rightrightright
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Replying to @81HORSESHOE
historiadora natural @beyfalls
no like???? what???? ilya rozanov AND lewis hamilton AND daniel ricciardo??? dream blunt rotation
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verona @ilyasamorcito
does this mean ilya rozanov has partied with hamiltons crew??? neymar, bieber, the kardashians???? we need INFO
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toria @81HORSESHOE
GUYS??????????????? #rozamilton #haminov
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Replying to @81HORSESHOE
sof! @softlyhell
what the actual fuck.
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Replying to @81HORSESHOE
kat @imaliiit
i didn't know i needed this. but i did.
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ESPN ✓ @espn
Lewis Hamilton speaks about years-long friendship with Ilya Rozanov, gets Verstappen to speak about Ilya Rozanov's supposed mentorship with him!
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Replying to @espn
medina @deansilyas
oh it's espn official then
⭐︎
Jane
ilya
ila
ilya
ilya
ilyaaaaaaa
Lily
names
Jane
ilya
hi
hows r u
mis ouy
Lily
you are drunk
Jane
noooooo
wai
t
maybe
missed u
Lily
you dont drink
Jane
well
um
Lily
where are you?
Jane
home
drank vodka
Lily
you? vodka?
Jane
missed u
closest i could get
of u
Lily
read 1.55am
────────────────────────────────
Shane kept staring at his phone, the thread of messages between Rozanov and him still open. The read receipt was making his stomach turn more than the vodka. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He had fucked up. He had been radio silent to Ilya since he left his apartment in Boston, a panic attack shattering across his body, just because he had called him Shane.
Now, drunk off his fucking mind, he couldn’t help but think this was payback. He was alone in his house, no sound but his own breathing, and he could feel his anxiety taking hold of his body.
God, he was pathetic. Rose had broken up with him, and the worst part is that she had also had to come out for him. She had to say the words, Shane’s still too caught in his throat to come out. This was a disaster, a real freaking disaster—
A beep came from his front door, notifying Shane that someone was there. But who? Shane was drunk off his face, tears falling down his face, and he felt bloated, his entire face red and heated.
Reluctantly, he went towards his front door, wishing and praying that this was someone who knew Shane enough to forgive him for his sorry state. Hayden, maybe. Or his parents.
Well, not his parents. Fuck, not his parents.
As he came to the door, he opened it without checking. He choked on his own tongue as he saw Ilya Rozanov in the flesh, a dark henley stretching across his chest, dark-wash jeans wrapped around his thighs in the most sinful way. He looked hot, as always. But he looked wrecked.
“Ilya.” He dared take the first step, breaking their stupid rule of surnames. He wasn’t afraid right now. He was drunk and probably hallucinating this entire scene, so he did what he wanted without thinking about the repercussions.
“Shane.” Ilya’s voice was soft, a raspy undertone to it Shane had only heard when he was close to losing it. He was looking at him like he was an endangered animal, a pained mix of emotions behind those opal eyes. “I… I needed to see that you were okay. You scared me.”
“Wait,” his brain was being slowed down by the alcohol; he knew that, but if Ilya was here… “How did you get here so quickly?”
“I was in Ontario.” He grimaced, as if awaiting Shane’s questions. Shane didn’t know if he deserved the right to ask, but god, he wanted to. Ilya seemed to read that easily from his expression. “You–you can ask.”
“Why were you in Ontario? If you are in Canada, you are supposed to be with me.” He stopped himself from stomping on the ground like a petulant child, but his words betrayed him anyway.
“I have other canadian friends, Shane.” Ilya chuckled at him, his gaze turning from desperate to amused. “They’re very famous, but you have never cared for that, so I never told you.”
“Who?” Shane’s brows furrowed, thinking about canadian celebrities that could match Ilya, and he came blank. “Who, Ilya?”
“I like the way you say my name.” It came as a confession, hushed like a promise, and it made Shane blush from head-to-toe. “Well, you don’t listen to music, so you must not know them, Shane.”
Shane hummed, his body still flushed, “Tell me anyway.”
“My friend Justin has a house in Ontario, and I was feeling… down, so he invited me over.” He revealed, as if he wasn’t shocking Shane entirely. “When you sent me those messages—Shane,” Ilya laughed, looking at him with a crazy look in his eyes. “Justin gave me his fucking jet to come see you. He doesn’t even know who you are. I never told him, but—”
“Bieber? Justin Bieber?”
Ilya laughed harder, almost bending over. “Oh, so you know about musicians. Good to know.” He nodded, confirming Shane’s hunches. “Yeah, we’ve been friends for years.”
“Why didn’t I know? You are friends with Hamilton,” he spat the name, “and that kid Verstappen, and now fucking Bieber?”
Ilya was staring at him with a fond look on his face, and it made Shane flush all over again. God, he was too fucking powerful. “You sound jealous, Shane.”
“Well, well! What if I am? Would it be that difficult to believe?”
“Yes. Yes, it would. You’ve been dating Rose Landry, making sure she’s everywhere you are, and now you text me saying you miss me, drunk off your ass?”
Shane felt tears prickle in his eyes, and he shook his head. “We broke up.”
“And?” Ilya looked at him questioningly, urging him to say more.
“I’m gay.”
“And what’s that have to do w— Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.” He felt adrift, his entire body betraying him again and leaning against Ilya, the closest he had been since the moment he left. “I tried, I really tried to… to forget. But I can’t.”
“Shane. Tell me what you mean. Tell me I’m not imagining things.”
“I only feel comfortable around you–I only want you.” He took a deep breath, begging the universe to let him finish before he starts crying again. “It’s always been you, Ilya.”
He saw Ilya crumble in front of him, and he smiled wetly as Ilya pulled him into a tight hug. “Me too, Shane. It’s—Это всегда была ты, моя звезда. Always you.”
Shane, without thinking too much, grabbed Ilya’s beautiful face and kissed him; it was a wet, frantic, and filthy kiss, the way they both always got when they didn’t see each other in months. Shane felt a horrible urge to burrow under Ilya’s skin and stay there.
“я— я тебя люблю.” The russian felt wonky on Shane’s tongue, and he had practiced saying it, since the moment he realized how fucked everything with them was, he wanted to tell Ilya what he felt in his native language, a way that Ilya knew, and wouldn’t doubt. “я тебя люблю, Илья.”
Ilya sobbed, dropping his forehead into Shane’s shoulder, wetting his shirt with his tears. “Я люблю тебя. Я думала, ты не любишь. Я думала, именно поэтому ты ушла.” A sniff cut through the words, echoing across Shane’s apartment. “It’s you, Shane. You. Always you.”