Stoffel gently knocked on Fernando's door early the next day.
"Fernando? We have a press conference in an hour. Zak's getting annoyed you're not at the paddock."
There was no answer.
Stoffel knocked again. "Nando?"
Still no answer.
The Belgian's brow furrowed as he frowned. He knocked once again.
"Fernando?"
Half-expecting the Spaniard to come bowling out, sighing and tutting at him, grumbling about something or other, Stoffel was surprised to be met with silence once again.
Fearing the worst, he fumbled with the keycard to Fernando's room, grateful for Zak making them take the other's spare room key as he pressed it against the lock pad on the handle.
The lock buzzed and the green light signified the door was unlocked so Stoffel pushed down on the handle and opened the door.
Fernando wasn't in bed, but the slightly ruffled sheets indicated they had seen Fernando's presence at some point. His clothes were still in his suitcase, not strewn about the room like Stoffel's were when he was frantically searching for a McLaren shirt that morning.
There were painkillers on the bedside table, unopened and sitting there innocently. Stoffel glared at them, knowing what had happened to Valtteri.
The door to the ensuite was slightly ajar and Stoffel pushed it open, slightly afraid of what was on the other side.
He fell to his knees.
"NO!"
Tear were running down his cheeks as he pulled his teammate's head into his lap, Fernando's scarily white face standing out against the black of Stoffel's jeans, his eyes closed and a small trickle of blue escaping from the left corner of his mouth and staining his chin.
"STAY ALIVE." Stoffel screamed, his tears splashing onto Fernando's face like raindrops on a window.
He shook Fernando, yelling until his voice was hoarse, pleading, begging for the Spaniard to be alive, for this to be a dream, a nightmare. Any minute now he'd wake up and Fernando would be alright, he'd be alive.
"Just stay alive, that would be enough..." He sobbed into Fernando's shoulder.
He heard footsteps behind him, and a sharp intake of breath, signifying someone else's presence in the room.
A hand gripped his shoulder, tenderly coaxing him away from Fernando's body and Stoffel let out a wail of anguish, clutching onto the Spaniard.
"Sir," a gentle voice said, prising Stoffel's hands off of Fernando and guiding him out of the room and towards his own.
An hour of fussing by the hotel staff and five calls from Zak later, Stoffel headed to the Paddock for the press conference where they would announce Fernando's death.
The weather was surprisingly appropriate for once, grey clouds crammed together in the sky and pitiful rain drizzled, barely enough to even dampen the ground.
Stoffel sat in silence as one of the other drivers- he wasn't paying attention, maybe like Brendon or Kevin or someone?- read from a piece of paper announcing Fernando's death.
Once again the race was cancelled and the press were dismissed.
Stoffel sat in his driver's room, watching the rain patter on the window.
"Just stay alive, that would be enough." He mumbled to himself.
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All of Stoffel's lines come from "Stay Alive (reprise)" and "That Would Be Enough" from Hamilton.
YOU ARE READING
My Suicide Note
Fanfiction(Set after "I am Damaged") After several events, the world comes crumbling down for some Formula 1 drivers. Please note, the story deals with suicide and self-harm. Do not read if you suffer from these as these are TRIGGER WARNINGS.
