Heureux - Charles Leclerc

Prologue

🎵 Pink Skies (Demo) - Wiley from Atlanta

Luna POV

Saturday, July 7th 2018

My dark blonde hair was tied into a ponytail low enough to comfortably wear my orange baseball cap, it was adorned with the McLaren logo stitched tightly into the front with a slightly smaller one embroidered on the side. I tried to cover up with a thin plastic poncho, but it did nothing to protect me from the cold chill that came with the rain. Under this poor excuse of a wrap, I had on a black raincoat, a thick hoodie matching my cap, and for some reason, I decided on thin black leggings. I did manage to make one smart decision and sported some rain boots. Silverstone was always a gamble weather wise and this year was right in line with typical English weather, bad for the fans but worse for the drivers. I had come down from Liverpool with my best friend to watch this year's Grand Prix, with a little help from my uncle. Today was the day that would determine the starting places for tomorrows race. It was just drizzling, not too terrible for us, but even the slightest bit of moisture on the track could dramatically alter the events that could happen throughout all the events of the weekend, but especially the 52 laps it takes to determine the winner this year.

We sat in the stands, across from the pit intently watching as the teams got their cars ready for the qualifying sessions today. The intensity, the focus, the adrenaline, and the fact that these guys raced upwards of 360 kph and put their lives on the line for 9 months of the year, it was insanely nerve-racking but all so intoxicating. I loved it—every single second.

The first four cars pulled up to the lights waiting for them in the pit lane, one after another till they made that solid line. It felt like minutes before the panel went changed and the engines roared to life, and the crowd emitted electric energy that no other sport can mimic. They sped up towards the first corner splitting into positions, the fight for first dominated by a Ferrari and a Renault, with a McLaren on his tail. Fighting hard to catch up was a particular red and white car that indeed put another level pressure on them. In a split second, a sharp sound shot through the air. Describing it as a crash doesn't even come close to what it sounded like. It was a noise that made anyone watching stop dead in their tracks and forced a different type of silence across the event. A sound you never want to hear at a race track.

The crash happened in a blink of an eye, it seemed alike to a slow-motion scene from a movie, with orange, white, and yellow colored cars all melting together. A Renault locked up just before a corner, its wing piercing the back wheel of a McLaren car, causing it to spin into a near 180 turn, slowing just before it faced on coming cars. My blood ran cold, I grabbed my best friend's arm trying to feel something other than anxiety, we were helpless, with nothing to do but spectate and hope that this turned out alright. The orange blur spun just enough to avoid a head-on collision but ending up right under a wheel of Sauber. It was like it was choreographed, the way the wheel went up and over the falling wing, just fast enough for the white car to turn in the blur, its front lifting and hanging in the air for a few seconds, a few seconds too long. 

The McLaren and Sauber cars slide off track, luckily not taking anyone else out with them. The safety car flew out as the yellow flags went up around the track and the marshals rushed out to get the drivers to safety and check if the drivers were okay. We watched as they climbed out of their vehicles, and were brought back to be delivered back to their respective garages. The race cars were lifted onto the trucks that would lead them away to be repaired and put back together before the next race weekend. I remember the red Sauber standing so clear, and the number 16 so bold against the white background, right above where the wing was supposed to be.  

After the session was over, my best friend and I went down to the pits. My uncle is a mechanic in the McLaren garage and managed to get us in for a little bit today, a late birthday present to me. He only had a little bit of time to give us a tour and show us around, the perks of being there for just about 17 years I guess. I am very lucky to have him, he is like a father to me and he is one of the most important people in my life. We met him at the gate and walked with him through the paddock to the garage. Walking past the huge signs for teams we'd only admired from a far, was a surreal moment, one that I will never forget. We walked down to the main garage of McLaren and onto the pit lane, we stood back and saw all the teams spots lined up, one by one. I was scanning the lane, in awe of the fact that I was standing here now, but something caught my eye. The red and white Sauber logo, and part of the car we had just witnessed take a massive hit, and a driver standing over it looking down. The garage was a ways down, but still close enough that I could see the white t-shirt he was in had a red collar and a bit around the sleeves as well. His arms lax against his sides, and in one hand he held a red hat, the sight stuck out to me, he just looked defeated. He looked down at the car, not moving or speaking to anyone, just looking at the damaged. His face was serious, high check bones and a crease between his eye brows proving he was deep in thought about what had happened today. Something resembling a statue. As if he could tell he someone was watching  him, he looked up and met my eyes. His eyes were this beautiful shade of green with a brown colour almost blending in, his jawline defined and his lips were slightly parted. We hadn't been looking at each for long  before my uncle said something to regain my attention, but it had felt like minutes he and I held contact. Walking back towards the McLaren garage I looked back but he was gone from his previous spot. I had recognized him from previous races, the number we saw crash today, number 16, Charles Leclerc.