Mon Champion

Chapter 3

Oscar's POV:

When I got back to my garage, I went straight back to the paddock. I didn't say anything to the mechanics. I didn't say anything to my engineers. I didn't say anything to anyone. I was absolutely furious.

When I got back to my motorhome, the tears started flowing again. The anger that was built up inside of me all came out at once. This was the worst day of my life. I couldn't keep my feelings inside. I had to let them out somehow.

"PUTAIN CETTE MERDE, JE NE VEUX PLUS COURIR!!" I could shout many more words than that, but the rage I was feeling kept me from saying anything else. I couldn't remember the last time I was this angry.

If I saw Oscar Piastri again tonight, I was going to punch him as hard as I could. He had ruined my life, and I was going to let him know.

I swept my wet hair out of my face. Whether it was sweat, or tears, or both, it didn't matter to me. I just knew it was getting on my nerves. When the hair returned to its spot over my eyes, I groaned in frustration. Everything was going wrong for me today, and I just wanted it to be over.

Just before I was going to climb the steps to go inside, I heard an oddly soothing voice. I didn't want to listen to anyone talk right now, but something in my brain told me otherwise.

"Everything alright?", the mystery voice suggested. This voice sounded oddly familiar, but I couldn't quite place who it belonged to. I could tell it was a man, but the name wasn't coming to me. Still, I didn't want to talk to anyone. I threw my head backwards, closed my eyes, and sighed.

"What the fuck does it matter to you, mate?" I didn't like being rude, but at this point, I just couldn't be asked. I heard him whisper under his breath and stomp away. Under normal circumstances, I would follow him and apologize, but these were not normal circumstances. I sighed once again, opened the door, and slammed it behind me.

When I got back into my motorhome, I grabbed a beer out of my fridge, and sank into my bed. Was I 19? Yes. Did I care? No. Plus, it wasn't like Jake would notice it was missing. As soon as I hit my bed, I started to cry again. The interaction with the mystery man had taken my mind off it temporarily, but reality was flooding back to me now.

I sat there, bawling, wondering if it was worth racing ever again. My phone was ringing on my nightstand, but I didn't care. I just wanted to forget. I just wanted to disappear. Distracted by my thoughts, I hadn't even noticed how exhausted I was. I'd put everything into that race, because that race meant everything to me. Eventually, after soaking in my own tears for a while, my exhaustion got the best of me, and I fell asleep.

-

When I woke up, I didn't know where I was. It was that kind of sleep. I didn't remember what had happened earlier that day. At least I didn't remember what happened until I figured out where I was. I could feel the tears dried on my face. I didn't need to cry anymore. I was just over it. I still wanted to punch Oscar in the face. That wasn't going to change until it happened, and I was going to make sure it happened eventually.

Eventually I came to my senses and realized my phone was screeching at me. I grabbed it off my nightstand and saw Matteo's name at the top of the screen. I still didn't want to talk to anyone. I let the call ring out and saw that Matteo had texted me 40 times about how I'd missed my post-race interviews. I was surprised he couldn't figure out that I wasn't exactly in the mood for interviews, but they are supposed to be mandatory so I guess I was in the wrong.

I scrolled down through more of my notifications, and I didn't pay attention. Most of them were news alerts from F1 about what had happened. But one in particular caught my eye.

Message from Lando Norris:

Hey mate. I know that you don't want to think about racing right now, but don't lose hope. I know what it's like to lose a race victory, but that probably doesn't compare to what you're feeling. Come back stronger next season mate, I know your title will come.

When I read through this the first time, It meant nothing to me. Yes, it was a message of encouragement, but it was just one of many that I was going to get after the crash. When I read through it the second time, however, it got me thinking about what had happened earlier.

I still hadn't figured out who the mystery voice was from earlier. You know, the one I swore at for no reason. At this point, it started to make sense to me. I'd only ever heard Lando speak in person a handful of times, mostly during track walks and press conferences.

Even considering this, I figured out that the mystery man from before was Lando Norris.

Even though I didn't feel like talking to anyone, something told me I needed to apologize to him. I'd swore at him for no reason earlier, and that wasn't right, no matter what mood I was in. Not only did I decide to apologize, I decided I needed to do it in person.

I changed out of my racesuit and into a team hoodie and shorts, and set off to find Lando's motorhome. I figured I should look for McLaren's building, but I didn't want anyone to see me. If there was one thing I didn't want, it was to be seen by a team employee.

Eventually, after hiding from the press and running in circles for a bit, I found the F1 motorhomes. After passing the Mercedes, Red Bull, and Ferrari homes, I found the McLarens'.

I walked up to the one labeled as Lando's and a chill ran down my spine. My heart started to beat a bit faster. I didn't know why I was nervous, I was just there to apologize.

As I raised my fist to knock on the door, I hesitated.

What if he wasn't there? What if he was asleep? It was well after qualifying now, and I'd seen that Max Verstappen had taken pole for the F1 race tomorrow night. My thoughts raced and my heart beat faster. There was something about Lando that made me nervous.

Fuck it, what's the worst that can happen? I raised my fist once again, this time actually knocking. My heart beat even faster.

Why am I so fucking nervous?

My hand started to shake. That's what happened when I got really nervous. I hated it because I could never act tough when I was scared. My hand always gave it away.

Lost in my thoughts, I flinched when the door opened.

When I looked up, I saw Lando Norris standing there.

Shirtless.

Staring directly back at me.