Maybe in another life-formula 1

you brake too early by the way

Monaco was, well... very Monaco. For lack of a better word, it was beautiful but pretentious, filled with rich snobs and tax evaders. Angelus never liked it much. He tolerated it for the sake of racing he never understood why people moved there after entering f1.

He was nervous, though he couldn't quite pinpoint why. Maybe it was because he was going to a Grand Prix—the same Angelus who hadn't seen a Formula car up close in years. He hadn't called Newey's office to arrange anything; he booked his flight last minute, giving himself the option to back out. He arrived the night before but couldn't bring himself to watch qualifying, so he was only attending the race.

Angelus clutched his pass tightly as he made it through the gates. His hands were sweaty despite the cold weather. The white button-up clinging to him was uncomfortable, and his slacks were too tight over his knee brace—the one he opted for instead of the cane. Another decision he was beginning to regret.

The paddock was bustling, which was good. Monaco is one of the most historic races on the calendar. With his head down, Angelus hoped to disappear into the crowd. He kept his head down but observed as he walked towards the viewing area. Sponsors, media personnel, and even drivers bustled around him. But none of them familiar anymore all of them strangers.

Just as he was about to reach the balcony, he made eye contact with Alex Albon. They raced together, the last time he saw Alex he was being told he may never walk again. Ther he was walking Alex standing ahead of him what can only be described as a shock on his face. Alex was about to flag him down, but Angelus quickly shook his head, tilting it towards the camera only a few meters behind Alex. Alex's face dropped slightly, but he still nodded reassuringly at Angelus before looking away.

The skies were an angry grey as the wind picked up. He knew what that meant all too well. His doubts were confirmed as the sky let out a wail. A lone drop of water fell onto his shoulder, immediately absorbed by his shirt. Angelus frowned, walking up the steps slowly to the VIP viewing area.

---

The race was red-flagged before it started. Forty-five minutes passed before a single car was seen again on the track. Forty-five minutes was more than enough time for Angelus to pick apart every decision he had ever made in his life, especially his decision to come to Monaco.

While everyone around him socialized and drank bubbly beverages passed around by waiters in the VIP area, Angelus sat still, lost in thought. He watched as the first cars started to leave the pit lane, eyes trained on the rain splashing from the tires. Just as the cars began to stop in their positions, Angelus was snapped out of his trance by a hand on his shoulder. He blinked for the first time in what felt like hours, eyelids rubbing over dry eyes, fists unclenching from their grip on the notebook in his lap.

He turned to see the owner of the hand, Adrian Newey, not even looking at him, eyes trained on the track.

"So, you decided to come?" Newey asked.

"Aren't you supposed to be in the garage?" Angelus replied, avoiding the question.

"Yeah, but sometimes you need to change your perspective, don't you think?" Newey replied, turning to face him.