#for you my beeloved

[blorbocedes]

Evil unhappy ending ask for lolex please your honor

"Did you know? Did you fucking know?" Logan barged in. His voice gets more American when he's mad. What a shitty fucking way to get fired, to not even know that was your last race.

Alex stills for a moment, before packing his things from Logan's room. "No. How could I have?"

"Bullshit. You had those one on one meetings with James, the ones you wouldn't talk to me about. No one here fucking tells me anything. I'm shut out at the factory. What the fuck, Alex?" Logan is splitting at the seams. He thought he didn't have the anger, it had seeped into something broken, resigned. Losing Benny earlier in the year, Alex being so distant. The writing was on the wall. He knew it was final year in F1, but not like this.

"He asked a hypothetical. I answered accordingly. I don't decide anybody's contract." Alex is taciturn. Matter of fact.

Logan can imagine it, James' smarmy, smug face, posing a hypothetical, of whether a mid season swap is optimising the rest of the season. It doesn't make sense. It doesn't make sense because Logan told Alex late into the night, whispered into his shoulder all his insecurities. How fucking hard it's been, getting a handle on the car. Being thrown into this environment when he wasn't ready and trying to make the best of it, something Alex knew all too well.

"I thought you were my friend," Logan's voice cracks. "You wouldn't even have this seat if George didn't stick up for you. Why wouldn't you stick up for me?"

Alex's eyes narrow. He was going to let Logan keep the hoodie he stole as a sign of goodwill. His voice is cold.

"Sucking my dick doesn't make you my friend. George is my friend. But he, and nobody got me a fucking seat. I've kept mine because I performed. I am sorry you didn't, but you don't get to put that on me. Piss off."

Alex storms off, taking the hoodie with him.

Logan never wants to see his face again. When George kicks him out of the WhatsApp group chat, it's a goddamn relief.