F1 oneshots

3. M.S47 The fall.

Authors note: I kinda hate this one, it's also very slow to get into.
(More practise)

"Your words will never leave this room, I will never be out of your sight."

Context: Mick approached you nervously after a race to ask you something important.

Warnings: Nothing I don't think.
Words: 2217

This was a feeling I could never shake.
The pump up in your room, doing your final bits of training and warming up before letting the nerves settle and trickle over your senses.
The chill of seeing your helmet on the desk Infront of you being cold and relieving of the heat in the many layers that cling to your body in the heat.
It was a different rush, a build up of euphoria that wasn't keen to crash.
The build up getting harder to ignore as you open the door and the sound of the track get louder, the roars tickling over your ears.
That's when you start counting.
You count the steps you take in a two-beat fashion
1, 2.
1, 2.

Every step rasing the hair on your neck and your knuckles gently grazed the exterior of your helmet.
1, 2.
1, 2.

Time stops for a second when you finally see your car.
The power you're about to hold sitting Infront of you, idle and calm before the storm.

----

"Earth to (y/n)?!"
I bite my tongue, looking over the car Infront of me.
Nodding before turning my head without my eyes to see my team mate next to me.
Lando smiled, resting his hand on my shoulder.

"You were missing, your body was here but uhh, this not?"
He sighed, tapping my temple.
I laughed slightly, releasing my tounge from the clasp of my teeth as I did so.
My engineer grabbed my arm, pulling me over to his desk to go over miniscule things with me and the corners, giving me his point of view.
I zoned out slightly, watching as Pierre walked past with Yuki.
It all becomes very real when Seb emerges.
I take a deep breath, rolling my balaclava up, sliding it down my face quickly as my engineer shoved me towards my car.
I take a long breath, putting my helmet on, fiddling with the strap for a moment before finally getting it just right, sitting tight.
My engineer tuts as he's ushered back to his seat.
I swing my leg over my halo, sliding down into my seat.
It's uncomfortable for a moment as I fidget around eventually sitting correctly before the buckles and straps over me being adjusted and tightened, the metal clicking over itself every once in a while.
My eyes glued themselves to the space between the monitors, seeing the pit lane just ahead and the sounds of cars making their way out floods my ears.
My smile quickly fades as I began prepping myself.

As I sat in this seat it clicked as it has tens of times before, I am no longer friends with anybody in these cars.
I am mentally forced to cut all ties for the next 45 minutes.
No matter how much these people mean to me, I no longer know them.
My mind is empty as soon as I cut these ties.
Waiting for my cue to join the others on the grid that seems to be taking years in my mind but minutes in the team around me's.
I look up at the people around me, all ready to jump on cue as I sat with my hands on my thighs, my wheel flashing Infront of me.

These are not your friends.
These all want what you want.
They want the title but you need the title.

My thoughts were narrow and shrouded, a tunnel vision warping the words in my head as I tried my best to forget how much I loved the people I'm racing.
Before I knew it I had the cue and I was on the grid.

My breath hitched in my throat as I pulled my visor down, all of it falling right into my hands as I wanted it.
It had been a great weekend and it was about to be an even better race as I started P4.
Max sat in P1, Charles P2 and Carlos P3.
Both Ferraris were beating the grid to pieces.