Dopamine | Adrenaline Book Two

22- Teammates

British Grand Prix

Sunday

Race Day

With no recollection of the time between leaving his hotel room and stepping into the paddock, Charles was running on autopilot. In an attempt to comfort himself, Charles repeated that what happened was for the best. There was only one thing in his line of sight now, and it was winning.

The crowds at the paddock were loud, all eager to see their home hero, Lewis Hamilton, thrive in the red car. Even from within the pits, their chants echoed, and upon the arrival of the British man in his red Ferrari suit, the crowds went even wilder.

As they headed to their changing rooms, the two Ferrari drivers crossed paths for the first time that race weekend. Without any prying cameras, Lewis halted the younger man in his tracks and extended his hand. "I didn't get to talk to you in Monaco, but I'm glad to see you recovered." He assessed him, posing a posture worthy of a king in his territory.

Taking Lewis' hand, Charles shook it in good faith, not believing the accident to have been inherently malicious. Winning was the first priority, and with the adrenaline that racing produced, it was fair to say Lewis had simply been racing to his full potential and that any danger brought on hadn't been intended.

"Thank you. I don't remember any of it, and it's probably for the best. I just hope you don't think that taking me out is your good luck charm," he joked with the older driver, a bit intimidated in his presence but trying to match his aura of confidence.

Lewis chuckled as he pulled his hand away, his eyes squinting in genuine laughter. "If it was good luck, I would have won in Monaco, don't you think?" he added, opening his room's door. "Plus, Max Verstappen almost attacked me in the paddock after that crash. I mostly try to avoid getting punched these days." He added, with another genuine smile. "Good luck today," he waved before heading into the room.

🏁

"And the Ferraris are on fire tonight! Leclerc remains in the lead, but with Hamilton not far behind, it is too close to call! Max Verstappen sits comfortably in third, with a large gap to his own teammate in fourth, but not close enough to challenge Hamilton's Ferrari. A Charles Leclerc victory would be spectacular to see after his formidably quick recovery, but of course, we have the Brits betting on a Lewis Hamilton home win for the first time in a Ferrari. What a sight that would be."

The commentary being broadcasted across the world, was repeating what everyone was thinking. All eyes were on the scene unfolding with only ten laps to go.

"And there goes Lewis Hamilton!"

The crowd went wild, roaring so loudly that one might have thought the race was already over. "He has overtaken Leclerc and now holds a two-second advantage with less than two laps remaining. We are about to witness a Ferrari one-two finish, a remarkable moment as Lewis Hamilton takes the win!"

Charles crossed the checkered flag behind Lewis, frustrated at losing the lead but knowing he had given it his all.

Parking his car and removing his helmet, all he could hear were the chants of the crowd, worshiping Lewis. The Brit seemed to glow among the crowds of red, who took him in their arms and cheered his name like their great savior.

"Lewis, Lewis, Lewis!" they cheered loudly, their chants echoing through the grandstands colored in the same tone of red.

To the left of Charles, it was not the Red Bull of Max who took third place. Instead, it was Oscar Piastri who climbed out of his orange McLaren to be congratulated by his team. There'd be no Red Bull on this podium.