Dopamine | Adrenaline Book Two

1 - Il Predestinato

Most nights, Charles was crushed by the weight of the losses he'd endured. The Ferrari driver had spent a couple of days post-race at his home, daydreaming about the warmth of being in the embrace of the one he loved. The closest imitation he could get was that of the one person who loved him unconditionally, his mother. The woman poured herself into helping him feel better, but she knew there was a hole in his heart that even a mother's love and nourishment couldn't fill. At first, she fully believed it to be the disappointment of not claiming the trophy. However, once the second week had come and gone with Charles remaining in his sea of despair, she knew that there were things making his heart heavy—some of which she may never comprehend. Nonetheless, she was willing to help him through it, even if he couldn't let her in.

With his head resting on his mother's lap, Charles laid still and said nothing, allowing her to run her fingers through his hair while her eyes remained fixed on the television across from them.

"Any plans for the break?" she asked, her voice soothing and casual, not wanting to push him into any conversations he wasn't ready to have. "I want you here as much as you want to stay. But usually, you have some big trip planned, darling," she added, to which Charles shook his head.

"I don't know," his voice was a little raspy as he hadn't been talking much, falling into a cycle of depression from which he wasn't sure anything could break him out of. "Maybe skiing at some point, but I just want to do nothing right now," he admitted, embarrassed at his lack of ambition but unsure of where he was meant to go from here.

Nightmares plagued him even in the daytime. He'd bring everyone down and knew better than to do that, always carrying his misery to himself— it was no one else's fault that he'd walked out of the season empty-handed.

A new year had come and gone without much significance for the Ferrari driver. On a daily basis, he would lay in bed, face buried into his pillow, sobbing with all the pain that haunted him. He would have believed that enough time had passed since the last race, but he was beginning to think that this would be a permanent pain for him. He wouldn't have minded losing the championship to Max had it been done on fair terms, but every time he thought of the stupid way in which he'd allowed himself to believe that Max had given him an opening in Las Vegas only to crash into him instead, he was reminded of the hatred that Max had for him.

His heart was in physical pain at the reminder, and if heartbreak could kill someone, he was sure it would be him. Nothing had gone the way he planned, and now he was left with nothing. No Max, no championship, and more recently, no team believing in him. Fred said he'd be their priority, but Lewis wasn't one to be second driver to anyone, and it was better if Charles went into the next season fully aware of it. With Lewis in Ferrari, he wouldn't have the same treatment. Would he continue to be their...

"il predestinato"?

The image of the seven time world champion carrying the prancing horse logo on his chest seemed something people had been expecting the whole past year and now that it was finally here, cameras seemed to only focus on him. Not only that, but a few other new changes adorned the grid such as Carlos Sainz in Red Bull and a young rookie, Kimi Antonelli, in Mercedes.

Still the reigning champion, Max Verstappen arrived late, preferring to avoid the spotlight that often came with his presence. He was never one to enjoy the attention of cameras or crowds of fans, hoping that his lateness would allow other new figures to take center stage.

Heading directly to the first press conference of the day, Max encountered Lewis Hamilton along the way. Lewis was someone Max had never truly warmed up to; their tight competition for the championship in 2021 had resulted in unpleasant moments between the two drivers, and even now, the two seemed to hold a level of tension toward each other.