Maybe in another life-formula 1

When the f1 bug bites

Angelus landed in Japan, the familiar hum of Narita Airport a familiar comfort. The neon signs, the efficiency, the courteous bowing—it was all a stark contrast to the glitz and chaos of Monaco. Japan was safe, familiar, and for the past two years, his haven.

But as he boarded the train to Yokohama,  he couldn't help but feel a heaviness in his chest, one that he couldn't shake. Angelus put on his headphones and leaned his head against the train window hoping that the music would drown the feeling. 

Life will move on he will go to work and surround himself with the bustle and responsibility he will be so occupied that he will forget. He needed to forget.

Back at the Nismo headquarters, He immersed himself in work, diving headfirst into the aerodynamics and design projects that awaited him. The endurance season was almost reaching its halfway mark and there were a lot of upgrades and data to look at. 

 At first, he did forget maybe for a while, The familiar sounds of engines, the scent of rubber and metal, the intricacies of design—it was his world, his refuge. Yet, there was a persistent, nagging thought that refused to leave him: Adrian Newey's offer. Newey is the legendary engineer behind many F1 championships. The offer was enticing—an opportunity to work with the best in Formula One, to have a real impact.

 But Angelus had turned it down. He knew he had a lot to offer it was just that, he didn't feel ready,  especially not after everything that had happened.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day at work, Angelus found himself alone in his apartment. The modern, minimalist décor did little to comfort him as he paced back and forth. His eyes kept drifting to the remote control on the coffee table, the temptation to turn on the F1 race gnawing at him."Just watch it," he muttered to himself. "Just watch it, why not, what are you so afraid of,"

But every time he reached for the remote, a wave of anxiety stopped him. He sat down, stared at the remote, then stood up again. This cycle repeated itself for what felt like an eternity. Finally, with a frustrated sigh, he turned away from the remote, deciding it was better to avoid the pain.

...

The following week, as he walked through the dimly lit corridors of Nismo, Angelus stumbled upon one of his colleagues, watching an F1 race in the break room. The familiar roar of the engines, the rapid pit stops, the sheer speed—it all drew him in.

 Angelus found himself lingering by the door, his eyes glued to the screen.

"Hey, Reyes. Want to join?" his colleague called out, noticing him.

"No thanks, just passing by," Angelus replied, but he didn't move.

 His gaze fixed on the Red Bull car, slicing through the competition with precision.

 Unconsciously, Angelus started jotting down notes on a scrap of paper he found lying around. He noted the car's aerodynamics, the handling, and the way it took corners, things that could be improved. It was instinctive, an old habit from his days on the track. 

Over the next few races, this became a ritual. Angelus would find himself drawn to the break room, jotting down observations and data. He started sending his notes to Newey. He didn't accept the offer, but he couldn't help contributing. There was a part of him that still burned for the sport, for the challenge. 

His life with the Nismo endurance racing team kept him busy. The team traveled extensively, competing in grueling races around the world. Angelus loved the camaraderie, the long hours in the garage, the thrill of the race. But even though it had been months since Monaco, the F1 bug had bitten him again, and it was becoming harder to ignore.