Chapter Text
Mon Coccinelle
Mon fleur
I’m going to end it all
Please don’t
:(
That wasn’t your fault
You shouldn’t let it get you down, cause you couldn’t have done anything
I was having a good race until now
Exactly Charles
It was just unfortunate
You will do better next race
…
I hope you believe that
Because I do not
Well, Ferrari. Your money has been put to good use, because I’ve found the exact root of your driver’s depression.
This is the unluckiest team of all time.
Even when you have a decent car and don’t fuck up the strategy, which is rare based off of what Lewis has been telling me for the last 20 minutes, you still just get bad luck.
Maybe consult a priest, because at this point, your issues are with God.
“There was a time where I missed struggling, you know?” Lewis continues, leaning on the wall next to me in the garage and crossing his arms, “I used to wish I could have one race where something just goes wrong so I could spice shit up… and then still win.”
I nod, my eyes being drawn to the screen in front of me. On it, the camera is pointed at Charles sitting on one of the little hills next to the track. He’s looking at his phone, tapping through it, before turning it to landscape mode. Which reminds me to put my own phone away.
“Now I look back on that, and I think I was just being delusional.” Lewis shrugs. “Genuinely like who is that guy in my past who wanted crazy things like a bad race.”
“Anyone could’ve crashed like you, it was starting to get wet,” I reassure him.
My eyes don’t leave the screen. Because Isack is fourth.
And I know. I know I’m meant to be entirely focused on Ferrari.
But how am I meant to help them race when they’ve both just crashed? It’s not like my presence is going to change anything now. The cars won’t magically be fixed again.
So what if I root for someone who’s still in the race? Sue me.
Lewis rests a hand on his chest. “But it had to be me. It could’ve been anyone, but it was me.”
The only response I can give to that is a sympathetic look. “Monza is next. You’ll do better there.”
“Yeah, cause next race is our race,” Lewis mutters under his breath.
“I’ll be there too.”
Those words manage to distract him, making him look over me before mumbling a quiet, “yeah?”
…I mean, no.
I didn’t have any plans to go to Monza. In fact, I was hoping to get a bit more of a break between races, but… if it makes them happy…
“Yup.” I force myself to nod my head. “I want to watch a race where you guys actually do well.”
Lewis tisks, smacking me lightly. “Man, that’s a low blow. I’m already hurting here.”
I ignore his annoyance and wrap an arm around his shoulders. “Well, I’m just saying, you have an extra incentive to do well… because I expect it of you.”
Lewis narrows his eyes at the screen, also still interested in what’s going on with the race. “And you didn’t expect it this time?”
“I was giving you guys some leeway, I didn’t really get my hopes up,” I mutter, grabbing my phone again.
Lewis just snickers.
Some people in the garage pass us, already packing up. But a majority of them stay on their chairs, watching the screens as if they still had a car in the game.
‘Going to be in Monza for the race,’ I text Charles, ‘you will do better there. And yes, I believe it.’
It takes a few seconds before the typing bubble pops up.
‘Okay.’
Then another couple of seconds for the next message.
‘We’ll do better’
‘I believe it’
‘:)’