Thanks to Norris

part 85- last time

Friday – Free Practice 
Abu Dhabi Grand Prix Weekend

The sun rose over the desert track, casting a golden sheen over the paddock, but you barely noticed.

You arrived early — earlier than anyone expected — headphones on, hoodie pulled up, eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses. You didn't say much. You didn't want to. The closer the title felt, the tighter everything inside you wound.

Not angry. Not sad. Just... focused. Laser-focused.

You walked through the garage with purpose. The engineers greeted you; you gave a nod. Josi handed you a water bottle and squeezed your shoulder gently — she didn't say anything either. She knew. So did Charles. He just bumped your arm as you passed, the smallest gesture that said "I've got you."

FP1:

The first session was clean. Controlled. You pushed hard, finding the rhythm in the corners, testing tire wear, adjusting balance — but your mind was only on one thing: stay ahead of Lando.

You didn't even check his times. Didn't want to know. Your engineer gave you a lap delta update near the end of the session, and you nodded stiffly, jaw clenched.

You were P3. Lando P4. Max and Charles ahead.

You climbed out of the car and walked back to the motorhome without a word, ignoring the cameras. A reporter tried to wave you over. You didn't even slow down.

FP2:

Night practice. Cooler air. Floodlights turned the track silver. You sat in the car before the session, staring at the halo for a moment, letting your breathing even out.

Then: gloves on. Helmet down. Game face.

This time, you went sharper. More aggressive through Sector 2. A twitchy moment at Turn 9, but you held it. The balance wasn't perfect, but your commitment was. Still... Lando was fast. Really fast. You could feel it even without looking at the screens. Like he was chasing you, corner by corner, millisecond by millisecond.

You ended P2 again — Lando just ahead of you.

After the checkered flag, you sat in the car for a few extra seconds in the pit lane, visor down, hands gripping the wheel. You could hear your heartbeat over the engine shut-off.

When you finally stepped out, you walked past the media pens without pausing. Someone called your name, but you didn't look back.

You didn't have space in your mind for anything except tomorrow.

Qualifying.

And what it would mean.

Friday Evening – Yas Marina Circuit, Abu Dhabi

The paddock had quieted down by the time you returned to your driver's room. The bright lights of FP2 still flickered in your memory, your skin still buzzing from the adrenaline, from every corner you took just a little too fast — not because you had to, but because you needed to. You were still ahead, but barely.

Only three points between you and Lando. You knew what that meant — no margin for error.

You sat on the small couch, elbows on knees, staring at your gloves. Josi came in quietly, placed a bottle of water next to you, and sat down beside you without saying anything. A silence full of understanding. After a while, she nudged your foot with hers.

"You're doing everything right," she said softly.

You didn't respond. Just nodded, once.

Saturday – Qualifying Day