long story short (chaennie)

who are we to fight the alchemy? (III)

"It's always the fucking car with you," Rosie groans, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration as she stands in a hotel room overlooking Italy. She crosses her arms, watching the people mill about below. Jennie sits behind her on the edge of the bed, her leg bouncing with anxiety. She should have gone to bed hours ago, but it's impossible for her to sleep. Her first year on Ferrari and Jennie is struggling. Well—struggling for her, to anyone else she would probably still be doing remarkable. She's second in the running for the championship with seven races left, but the gap between her and first is getting more and more dangerous if she doesn't start winning races again soon. Summer break was spent with a ridiculous amount of sim racing, but Rosie was grateful to squeeze one little vacation to Monaco in there (Rosie is a bit fond of re-visiting the place they met, sue her, she's sentimental). Now that the break is over, though, Jennie has been nothing but a ball of anxiety. She's one year into a three year contract with one of the most famous teams of all time, but it's been tearing her apart.

"It's not the same," Jennie mutters, running a hand through her hair. "I mean, Mclaren this year is just insane—"

"Jennie," Rosie huffs, turning around to face her girlfriend with a stern expression on her face. "I love you, you are a brilliant racer, the car is not the fucking problem and you know it's not. You could race in a fucking tin can and probably still catch second. Hell, you could race for Alpine and probably take the championship because you're you."

Jennie rolls her eyes. "If I was racing for Alpine, I'd probably retire after the first lap for half of the season. I think Gasly's retired more races than he's finished at this point. This is different. Something about the Ferrari... I can't get it to work with me."

"Leclerc made it ten seconds ahead of both Mclarens last year like a bat out of hell in that Ferrari. You should know better than anyone that it's not about the car, it's about how you drive it. Christ, you're starting to sound like Norris."

"That hurts, you're being hurtful on purpose," Jennie retorts, standing up from the bed and beginning to pace the room. "Something about this season is off, Rosie. I mean—I'm getting old, the car's wonky, and I just don't have it like I used to. Maybe last year was just it for me. I'm not gonna be champion again."

"You have been racing for six years, Jennie, and in four of those you have taken the championship title. People are starting to compare you to Lewis, you already have the third most wins in history in six years. I didn't know anything about racing until two years ago and even I know that's insane." Rosie isn't sure what to do here. They've had some variation of this conversation over and over and over again over the course of this entire season. As much as Rosie tries to be supportive, she isn't sure how much longer she can talk Jennie down off of the ledge. She can't remember the last time they had sex. Or the last time they talked about anything other than racing. "You are killing yourself over something you have complete control over."

Jennie pauses in the middle of the room, looking at Rosie, "You're getting sick of this, I can see it on your face."

"Yeah, because I'm your girlfriend, not your coach, but I feel like that's all I've been doing lately," Rosie exclaims, a scoff falling from her lips. "It's like you've completely forgotten that I exist except for when you need to rant about how the tires are degrading faster than you want them to."

"This isn't just a job for me, Rosie, you knew that when you started dating me."

"And I love that about you, I love how passionate you are," Rosie reminds her. "You used to come alive when you were racing, you'd come out of these races sweaty and smiling, but that's gone. And I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this and you can hate me for it all you want, but it's not the team, and it's not the car, it's you, Jennie. Until you can fix this mental cage you've trapped yourself in, you're never going to be the racer you were and we both know this."