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They're in bed when Seb tells him.
Kimi is licking his way down the middle of Seb's chest, lazily meandering lower and lower, stopping to bite every so often, enjoying the way Seb's skin flinches beneath his teeth and the sharp little gasps, the quietly murmured fuck, when he applies more pressure.
It's nice, Kimi thinks, just being together like this. There are so few moments in their lives when there's no pressure, no stress, nothing required of them; moments where they can simply be, leaving everything else behind for a few precious hours.
And Kimi might know better than most that such peace is always only an illusion, that something so fragile and temporary can be broken in less than an instant, but right now, at least, that's something he chooses to ignore.
But then, of course, Seb says it.
"I'm leaving Red Bull." The words come out of nowhere, and at first Kimi assumes he must have misheard.
"What?" he says, not pausing in what he's doing, but then Seb repeats himself, more clearly this time.
"I'm leaving Red Bull."
Kimi frowns, sitting up, straddling Seb's thighs, making certain he understands what's actually being said. Because while he doesn't enjoy being surprised, ambushed like this, he's perfectly aware there's only one team Seb would leave Red Bull for. Just one, and six months ago he would have assumed this meant he was losing his job at the end of the season, but things have since changed.
Things always change.
"Oh," Kimi says. What he wants to say is why?, but then, he knows why.
The lure of the team, the status, the history. The opportunity to be part of such a legacy is a powerful temptation, something every driver worth anything has been conditioned to want. Even Kimi, who never was someone overly awed by such things, remembers the feeling the first time they signed him, the sense of having arrived, the joy of it something secret inside of him.
But reality never was so simple, and it wasn't so long before he realized that nothing was what it seemed, was swiftly disabused of such starry-eyed foolishness. He learned, then, and his current tenure with the team has done nothing but cement those earlier impressions.
He wonders what they've told Seb, about the future, about their plans for him, their plans for the car. Nothing even vaguely resembling the truth, Kimi would bet. The dumb shit probably thinks he's going to lead them all back to the glory days, bring home the championships like that other German once did. So fucking naive, Kimi thinks, but then Seb always was the idealist. Kimi remembers liking that about him, once.
He climbs off Seb, casually throws himself down on the bed, landing on his back with a satisfyingly ostentatious grunt. His phone's on the bedside table, and he grabs it, checks the time. He's got a training session at three, so he'll have to be out of here by two thirty, which leaves him a good hour. He sets the alarm, tosses the phone back on to the table.
"What are you doing?" Seb asks him.
He rolls over on to his side, facing away from Seb. "I'm tired," he says. "I'm going to have a sleep."
Seb's exasperated sigh is clearly audible, but Kimi doesn't react. "Can we talk about it?" says Seb, voice strained thin with impatience, and Kimi knows he's being an asshole about this, but he doesn't care.
"There's nothing to say," he says.
There never is anything to say, and as Kimi drifts off he takes a moment to be grateful that he can sleep anywhere, anytime. Through anything, any feeling at all.
He's deep in sleep when the alarm sounds, dreaming of something he can't remember, and it's not until after he leans over to switch it off that he realizes Seb is spooned up behind him, arms tight around Kimi's waist.
But Kimi doesn't speak, doesn't move, not even when Seb kisses his shoulder, lips soft and warm, not even as his hand slides down, over Kimi's abs and through his pubic hair, circling around his cock, stroking it slowly into hardness.
"Come on," Seb whispers, and Kimi hates himself for not being able to resist, for turning over, pulling Seb down on top of him, moaning at the feel of their cocks rubbing together, Seb jacking them both now, faster and harder.
Kimi's fingers are in Seb's hair, heedlessly rough, dragging him in to kiss, mouth open wide and messy, breathing into it; harsh stuttered out exhales as his hips thrust up into Seb's touch.
"I want you to fuck me," says Seb, the words fierce, demanding with need, but Kimi only shakes his head, closes his eyes, tries to focus. He can't stop, he can't, because if he stops, calms down for long enough even to just grab a condom, get Seb ready, then he'll start to think, really think, and the only thing he wants right now, more than anything, is to forget.
"I'm coming," he mutters, and he is, desperately falling into the feeling of nothingness, pure pleasure all too brief before the world is crashing back in, weight in his chest like a stone.
He lies still, waiting as Seb moves up against him a few more times before finishing, hot spurts against Kimi's skin like something shameful and burning. He collapses forward for a second, then rolls off Kimi's body, one arm thrown back over his head, so utterly debauched it's almost obscene.
This when Seb always looks the most beautiful, Kimi thinks, and he tries to save the memory, preserve it for the future, something he can lock away and keep, revisit when he needs to.
"When are you announcing it?" he asks.
"Tomorrow," answers Seb.
"Only about you leaving Red Bull, right?"
"Yes."
"What about the other announcement?"
"I don't know. It depends…" Seb shrugs as his voice trails off. "I don't know."
And Kimi's reasonably certain he's not lying, so he takes the words at face value, knowing that he'll be fielding endless questions about the subject as soon any of this goes public.
Something else to look forward to, he thinks, a bitter taste in his mouth.
He stretches a little, sniffing, then wipes himself off the sheet before getting up, searching around the room for his clothes.
"It'll be different for us," says Seb.
"What?" Kimi replies, distracted, trying to remember whether or not he was wearing underwear today. He can only see Seb's lying on the floor, so maybe not.
Seb hesitates a minute, watching him, eyes careful, but then he goes on. "The teammate thing. We'll be different." He smiles. "We always were different."
"Yeah." Kimi pulls on his jeans, jams his feet into his sneakers. "I guess we were."
You were the one thing, he wants to say, the one thing I had.
But there's no point. The racing comes first, it always has, and everything else in life is secondary. Even this.
The racing comes first.
"I'll call you," Seb says.
Kimi nods. "Sure," he says.