𝗦𝗛𝗨𝗧 𝗨𝗣 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗗𝗥𝗜𝗩𝗘, charles leclerc

𝙀𝙄𝙂𝙃𝙏𝙀𝙀𝙉, aera choi

          THE AFTER PARTY WAS much too loud for Noura's liking. Usually, she was 100% one for a rowdy party. She loved to dance, sing, chat endlessly to anyone who would listen. But in that moment, it couldn't have been further from the truth. All she really wanted was to go curl up in her shitty hotel room, watch a shitty movie, and stew in her shitty feelings. Pretty much everything felt shitty.

Sure, P1 in the Red Bull home Grand Prix wasn't necessarily shitty, but celebrating it without Charles had been. Her win was something she should have ben jumping for joy about. She should have been spinning around the dance floor, drowning herself in champagne. But Noura couldn't bring herself to be happy. She couldn't bring herself to be anything other than numb. Not after her conversation with Charles.

Ending whatever relationship they had had been like digging a knife right into her own yearning heart. There wasn't pain quite like self inflicted pain. But still, Noura knew it had to be done. It was best for both of them. She knew it was for the better. And Charles seemed to agree.

Noura really would have skipped the after party in favor of her bed, if it weren't for the fall out she knew would come afterwards. Somehow, some stupid, sexist news outlet would find out about her skipping the celebrations and write a scathing article about how she was 'ungrateful for her results' and how she 'didn't deserve her wins'. They always tried to make her seem ungrateful. Undeserving. Maybe she was.

After all, she was sitting in the corner instead of celebrating with her team. Maybe everyone was right. Charles had been the only one telling her she was worth more. And obviously, he didn't really care all that much. Maybe she wasn't as grateful as she should be. Maybe she wasn't deserving enough.

It didn't escape Noura that her second race win had been born solely of anger. Anger at herself for destroying her own heart. And her first win had been born of desperation. Was Noura unable to win without some sort of emotion filling her body? Was Noura's talent not enough? Did she need to be angry?

Noura hoped not.

The best Noura was able to manage with her shitty mood was sitting on a sofa in the corner of the club. At least she was there. Being lonely in the corner was better than not being there at all. That was what she told herself. It made her feel slightly better. But only slightly.

She wore a simple blue dress, which she had only pulled on because it was on the top of her suitcase. Her hair was pulled up and out of her face, even though her outfit would have looked much better with it down. For once in her life, Noura couldn't bring herself to care.

She sat on the sticky leather sofa, she hated leather sofas. Her legs always stuck to them, she could never quite get comfy. But Noura wasn't sure she really deserved to be comfy. She sipped her daiquiri and stared into the distance. Charles had skipped the party. At least he had an excuse, bested by her and Max, landing in P3.

It had been an awkward podium.

Noura chugged the rest of her daiquiri. It churned in her stomach.

"Noura!" Max had decided to make an appearance in her little corner of the club. Noura could instantly tell he had over done it on the gin and tonics. And not only from his shirt that read 'gin and tonic'. His words were slurring together, and he seemed to be slowly tilting over, like a human Tower of Pisa.

"Come and celebrate Noura..." Max slurred. "Daniel's doing karaoke! And we got a 1-2!"

Noura sighed, shaking her head. "I'm not really in the mood, Max. You go have fun without me."