Maybe in another life-formula 1

So many question marks

Daniel didn't know much about Max and Angelus when Max first joined Red Bull—just that Angelus was a sore topic for Max, and that Angelus was all anyone could talk about in Formula 2. Angelus Reyes, the Italian prodigy. Ferrari's next big thing. Daniel saw the headlines, the photos of Angelus beside Max in old articles, but Max rarely spoke about him, and when he did, there was a hardness to his voice, a sharpness that told Daniel it wasn't something he should pry into.

It was as though Angelus existed in some distant part of Max's life, carefully compartmentalized away from the world he lived in now. The connection between them was clear—how could it not be, with the way people talked about them? But Max kept that part of his past buried deep, a secret Daniel didn't push him to reveal. He assumed Angelus was just an old friend from Max's junior racing days, someone who had drifted out of his orbit as Max climbed the ranks. It wasn't uncommon in motorsport—friendships that couldn't survive the pressure, the ambition, the obsession with winning. Daniel saw it happen all the time.

That was until that day in 2016. 

The morning had started like any other race day. The paddock buzzed with pre-race energy, the hum of mechanics and engineers working,  fans in the stands cheering. Daniel was focused on his own preparations, mentally going over his strategy, readying himself for the competition ahead. Everything was routine, predictable. Until it wasn't.

It started with a wave of unease. A sudden commotion swept through the garage. People were gathering around the screens, their faces twisted in worry. Daniel looked up, curiosity tugging at him as he made his way toward the cluster of team members huddled near the monitors. Something was wrong.

"What happened?" he asked one of the mechanics as he pushed his way through.

"F2 crash," the mechanic muttered, his eyes glued to the screen.

Daniel's stomach twisted. He wasn't used to seeing crashes on race day, but the tone in the mechanic's voice told him this one was bad. His eyes flicked to the screen, and his heart sank. The image was brutal—a mangled F2 car crumpled and smashed, twisted into Eau Rouge like a discarded toy. Marshals swarmed the wreckage, desperately pulling at the debris, trying to extinguish the flames licking at the car's remains.

On the screen, the commentators' voices were tense, strained.

"... That was Angelus Reyes' car... no response over the radio..."

"Jesus Christ" someone murmured.

"he's just a kid" another voice whispers

But Daniel couldn't tear his eyes away from the scene. The marshals finally pulled a limp body from the cockpit. Angelus was motionless, his helmet still on. There was no sign of movement as paramedics rushed to his side. The world seemed to stop. And then, with a slow, terrible finality, the camera zoomed in as they removed his helmet. Angelus' head lolled back into the paramedic's hand, blood streaming down the side of his face.

The screen cut away.

A faint whisper broke the silence beside Daniel.

"No."

It was Max. He stood frozen, his face ashen, his body rigid with tension. His eyes were locked on the screen, wide and unblinking, and for the first time since Daniel had known him, Max looked like he was about to break.

"Max," Daniel began softly, stepping toward him. He wanted to offer something, anything, but before he could take another step, Jos appeared, his presence as cold and intimidating as ever. Jos clamped a firm hand on Max's shoulder, pulling him away from the screen.

"Don't get distracted," Jos said sharply, his voice like ice. "Focus on the race."

Daniel flinched at the command, disbelief flooding him. How could he say that? A young driver's life was hanging in the balance, and all Jos cared about was Max's race. It was chilling, the way Jos disregarded what had just happened.