Chapter Text
The car cracked, snapped against the pit wall. Before winding around to the barrier. Debris blocked Alex and Isacks view. It blocked him the most. The sound of the crack sounded loud in his ears. He closed his eyes, grabbing at the steering wheel that inevitably unhooked from the bearing. That’s when it hit. The feeling of being airborne even for a second, the feeling of his arm slamming against the side of the cockpit, the HANS device holding his helmet in place, his head whacking from side to side.
Until it stopped. The spinning. The crack.
When he opened his eyes the world spun, it shouldn’t be spinning. Not like time is passing fast. His head hurt momentarily, the nausea subsiding. His stomach turned with an angered groan, as if he’d been stabbed. The car halted, yet it felt as if the world was still moving beyond his comprehension. As if he hadn’t hit the wall yet.
The marshals rushed over, gripping his shoulders like a vice. Trying not to shake him too much. Talking to him through muffled voices. He couldn’t hear through the fog of fear, nor through the fog of his helmet. The HANS device kept his neck in place, yet it felt like a million needles probing at him.
He shook his head, pain in his shoulder and his neck shutters throughout his whole body. They were telling him not to move, but he wanted to. Wanted to stand up and prove that he was okay, that all the safety measures worked. But how could he, he was nothing. He meant nothing. The marshal grabbed his arm gently so as to not jostle any potential injuries. Gabriel let himself be handled for a fraction of a second, before tearing his arm away and standing up.
The pain in his back lingered, shaking against his bones. It didn't help that he was skinnier, it didn't help that he lacked eating properly today. Nerves and such getting to him. He shook as he stood up, hands landing on the halo for a fraction of a second and he took in his surroundings. Dark, gloomy, terrifying. Cars drove past at snail speed, as if he was an animal in a zoo. Perhaps he was, maybe his crash was for their entertainment in the end. Another pity post for F1 to make, another ‘double yellow flag’ for the radios. He looked up at the crowd through fog, through tears. Anything that covered his eyes aside from debris.
Glancing around at the ground as he got out, anger flared in his chest. Black specs of the car crinkled under his shoes. No matter how hard the marshal, nor medical tried to grab at him, he couldn't bear the thought of being pitied for this. The hand on his back was cold, even through gloves and fabric, the touch was cold. The yelling Portuguese was quiet. Nothing felt right, his stomach continued to churn as the voices of the crowd filtered through thick material.
Tears pricked and prodded at his eyes, stinging them. He couldn't bring himself to remove the helmet, not yet. Not till the only cameras that could film him were illegal ones. He’d much rather be on tiktok hours later, than see himself on the big screen mere seconds after. Even as he walked away with a slight limp, still sore from the initial hit. He could hear the crowd. The marshal guided him to the safety car, even as he clearly eyed it through his visor.
He went willingly, eventually allowing himself to be helped into the car and taken away. Even as they drove over the bumps of his car's guts. The plastic and hard work crunching under the wheels of his misery. He couldn’t even believe it, the noise of the crowd echoing off his helmet. The one he refused to remove.
“We’ll get you back safely kid.” The accent was thick, but Gabriel understood it as if it was his own voice speaking back. “I want to see my ma..” Gabriel whispered. He felt the marshal sitting next to him grab his arm carefully, her touch lingering softly. “I know.” She whispered, letting her arm drop. He understood he had to go through medical, despite feeling okay. He was okay. His brain told him so.
When they arrived at the designated area, he took his time leaving the car. Each step towards his friends and family felt like an eternity, his ears ringing. His mother rushed over, her touch was so warm and gentle. His heart snapped in more than two. Everything shattered, as her fingers reached for his helmet so carefully, as if she was scared her son would be bloodied and broken underneath.
His sweet grandma, hiding behind the crowds. Watching her grandson stand there. Terror crossed her face, as if he was a monster. But to her, he could never be one. No matter how much of a monster he felt last year, every-time he took a lap away from Isack, or took a podium from Paul. When the f2 officials glanced his way, as if he was porcelain. One wrong word could set him off like it did in Qatar,
He shakingly grabbed the straps of his helmet, lifting it off his head. Careful not to tug on his neck, in case there was any lingering pain. Something he can’t feel or see just yet. Even as his eyes adjusted from beyond the visor. His hair tossed and turned. Letting the helmet fall to his sides, slumped shoulders. “I’m okay.” He whispered, voice betraying the truth. His mom stood near, watching him close. His own brother and nephew standing so closely yet so far.
Yeah, not a monster they said.
His family stood back as if he was one.
“Is Gabi okay?” His nephew asked. His voice was so small, as he held the toy car. Unaware of what happened. Gabriel just smiled carefully, tightly. Running his hands through the little boy's hair before letting it drop. “I am okay.” He answered softly. His anger subsisted for only a moment, then his team arrived. Media. PR support. Those who claimed to give a shit, all came and backed him.
He slipped his suit off slowly, letting it pool to his waist as people around him chatted. Talking about stuff he didn’t understand. “The car?” He asked. Enzo looked down, guilty. Gabriel should know the answer, but his brain refuses to supply him with one. As if hiding him from the truth. Hiding him from everything that could harm him. “The car.” He asked once more, more sternly. “Will I make quali?” The question finally spilled.
Enzo looked up rapidly, Gabriel knows his brother better than he knows himself. That look was one of pure horror. “Gabi…” Gabriel just nodded, turning away. The tears from before didn’t even spill as his voice rose. Like a tide after a storm. “Fuck!” He shouted, his body jolting with anger. He passed his helmet to the Sauber employee. Stopping him from slamming it on the ground in anger.
The Brazilian didn’t even register someone else’s arms around him. He didn’t care, he didn’t want to hug. He pushed the guy away, before grabbing his phone. “I need to make a call. If that’s okay with you.” His tone was sharp, directed. There was no one to blame which made his anger feel more and more unjustified. Reaching for his phone, snagging it from the poor employee's hand.
The last lap creeped forwards. Growing nearer. But Isack, he wasn’t growing nearer to Gabriel whatsoever. The pass on the restart was so clean, it makes every other overtake look aggressive in comparison. There were all levels of determination, every aspect of the way the green Sauber flew past him was rooted in history. Rich. Fierce. Isack was almost in awe, even as the gloomy clouds threatened to ruin it all. Hanging above the track like some God.
Maybe that was the problem, maybe it was the source of everything that ends up happening later. Nearing the end of the pit straight, it happened. One second Isack brakes early, giving space. The next his visor is bombarded with dust and debris. Rattling his car. He knew he wasn't hit, understood he was still active and in the race, yet his chest hollowed out as if he was. The car shook from side to side as he passed Albon, whose car held a familiar front wing under it.
Isacks eyes widened, he continued to drive, waiting for a good moment to flick the radio on. His heart raced. A guy he’d just spoken to two days ago, reduced to smoke and debris. As he came along the straight he flicked his radio pin, voice shaking.
Isack: Yeah, that was bad. Is he fine, mate?
Pierre [external]: I don't know, yet.
If Isack could stop the car and fall to his knees he would, everything rushed at once and he dived into turns too fast. Waiting for the inevitable. “You have to be okay,” isack mumbled. It’s the only outcome he’ll accept, the only one that he’ll ever take. Gabriel simply can’t be hurt, not here, not ever. Perhaps there was a part of isack last year that wished the worst on the Brazilian, perhaps a part that wishes it was Gabriel who crashed into Maini instead of Pepe. But Isack can't deny the relief he felt when he was told it was car 9, not 10.
Pierre [external]: He’s okay, he’s okay. There is debris on the track, cars have slowed.
Isacks eyes shifted, before he could process the debris he was running over. Eyeing the crash. He had to see if a familiar helmet was trapped, if maybe he was being lied to. He sighed in relief as he watched Gabriel get out of the car slowly, rising from beyond the halo. Despite there being half a lap, to a lap left. The white smoke replayed in his mind. He had no need to defend anymore, everyone around him was terrified. Him more so than many.
Time passed quickly, as he pulled back into the pits slowly, lining up behind the yellow tail of the Alpine. Isack waited, his breath uneven. Something felt empty, missing. He could feel air behind him, as if there was a hole left. A gaping unchangeable hole. Nothing could prepare him for the burst of emotions his mind supplied him with. Even as he finally stood from the car, disconnecting his radio. Not wanting to hear the wiring sound.
He left the car quickly, many would point that out after the race. Or maybe it's the way his body language screamed scared, terrified. He turned to where the screens were behind him, watching the broadcast. The replay haunted his mind from his own eyes, but seeing it from a bird's eye view. Isacks stomach flipped when he saw Gabriel's car rock against the wall and nearly flip. He was airborne, he was above the ground.
Isack shook his head, closing his visor slightly more, leaning down to grab Pierre's dropped glove. Throwing it on the headrest. He didn't mean to come off as standoffish, he really didn't mean to. But horror gripped at his lungs like a vice. Heading over the weigh station, where he knew he’d have cameras watching his every move, every step. He lifted his visor up completely, so the official could see his eyes.
With the way he was shown on the TV, he knew he looked terrified. Looking around for any support, anything that could help him know the actual condition of the other driver. But nothing surrounded him other than somber faces, or faces of the clueless. The ones who weren't told about the crash, or didn't care. He silently grabbed the paper and walked off towards his team.
“Good race,” Hamelin said, clapping him on the back. He could only shake his head, “no it was not.” his voice stern, shaking. He had to yell slightly to be heard over the roars. He knew the result. The same rookie, with the same rocketship car, soaring passed the line. It was horrid, he hated it. He hated the feeling of once having something, then having nothing. It was like a bee sting, or something worse when a cheery voice sounded from behind him. A familiar Italian accent.
“Listen, kid.” Pierre started, bringing his driver closer. “He had nothing to lose. You’re all rookies.” The voice was mockery, pure mockery. Isack felt himself scoffed. Moving away from the older man as if he was made of fire. “He had everything to lose.” Isack stormed off, not sure where, but he had to leave. Get away from a team who didn’t deserve to feel happy.
Isack inevitably ended up where he didn't want to be. Watching them roll in a familiar car, covered by a tarp. Surrounded by men wearing black and green suits. Voices yelling at each other, they were distraught and scared. “What are you doing here?” Her voice was gentle, familiar. He remembered her from last year. Someone who was important to Gabriel. Isack heard the news weeks before the US grand prix, the two of them breaking up. She still came to his races, supported him.
Isack turned slowly. His eyes are more visible than they have been for the past hour. She let her arms drop, frowning. “I was scared too.” Isabella admitted. Sighing. “But you,” she started, not sure what to say. How to convey it. She’d seen isack after Abu Dhabi, the boy hiding from the cameras as they tried to find him. She remembered the look on Gabriel's face the first day he found out Isack was the same Isack Hadjar he fought as a kid. “Are you okay, Hadjar?” her voice was so soft Isacks heart cracked.
He shook his head slowly.
She nodded slowly, eyeing him before sighing. “It’s okay to be scared, even if you two are rivals.” Her voice was so kind and welcoming, Isack nearly broke down then and there. Even as the taller woman took a step forwards, bringing him closer without touching him. “But you should know, he’s okay. He was cleared,” she trailed off briefly. Clearly not saying the whole truth. “It’s just… he’s mad, really mad. But he’s worried.”
Isack found himself confused, not understanding how a man who suffered 57Gs could be worried. “He’s worried he scared you, and even scared Albon.” She finished. Isabella just frowned. “What about me, why would he be worried?” Isack asked softly, his eyes flicking between hers. “He crashed right in front of you… one second he's there… next he isn’t.” Isack winced, it was so fresh in his mind. Yet he’d forgotten.
She sighed and nodded towards the Sauber garage. “They’ll let you in. This team..” her voice caught, “they trust you.” Isack caught on immediately, she knew. It was dangerous, dangerous to understand an obsession. And even more dangerous to feed the obsession. Isack was silently thankful she said nothing more, and just moved on. Letting him rush into the garage.
When he entered, the crew looked at him immediately. His flushed cheeks, tossed hair, helmet in his hands. “Kid, you can’t be in here.” Jonathan said solemnly. Even his voice was hesitant, knowing they he’d invite Isack to their paddock without a second thought. Knowing that the VCARB crew is welcomed to seek refuge within the walls of Sauber no matter what.
But right now, it was too sensitive. Too bare. The car laid in the centre, making Isacks breath catch. He looked at the car as if it was the devil himself. Piece missing, dents, upon dents. It didn’t even look like a car anymore, it looked like a crumbled piece of paper.
Isacks gaze diverted from the car and onto the team principal, who looked just as shaken and guilty.
But before Isack could explain, the tiniest voice cut in. “Are you okay, mister?” Isack felt like sobbing. He glanced over, looking at a boy so much younger than himself and Gabriel. Yet, he looked like a carbon copy of the Gabriel that Isack remembered from years ago. It made his heart clench, he let out a choked sob.
“He’s fine,” Enzo’s voice was sharp and stern. Another face Isack remembers too well. Gabriel’s protective brother, the one who never failed to eye Isack in the f2 paddock last year. The one who Isack remembers at the rare tracks where he and Gabriel clashed.
But he also remembered the Enzo who put a bandaid on his knee when he tripped at one of those tracks. The Enzo who, aside from the cameras, checked in on Isack after Australia. The same older brother who’d clapped Isack on the shoulder in IMOLA and said “good job” despite beating Gabriel to a p1.
It felt surreal, meeting Gabriel’s family like this. He’d only ever properly met Isabella and Enzo. But even his shaken demeanour couldn’t hide the frown that the elder woman saw. She clicked her tongue, trying her best to understand what isack is doing here. Maybe she was also shaken up. Seeing her grandson drive for the first time, just to crash terribly into the wall.
“Oh sweetheart.” Isack knew that voice to be Gabriel’s mothers. Isack only knew this because his mother and her have spoken before, Hadjar remembers the louder accent by heart. “He’s okay.” Her voice was so shaky, it sent a shiver through Isacks spine. Even as he stepped forwards and wrapped his arms around the ladies waist in a mock attempt at comfort.
“He’s okay.” The second statement was more for her than him. Even as she caressed the nape of his neck, feeling his trembles below her fingertips. “I know, I know…” Isack shut his eyes tight, his sob bleeding into the fabric of her shirt. She pulled him in tighter, as if he were a balloon threatening to fly away. She held him as if he were her own. As if he was Gabriel.
Maybe part of her was seeking comfort in her son, without having to actually see him. Or maybe part of her wanted Isack to feel loved. Feel like it was Gabriel who whispered it was okay into his hair. Maybe that’s why he felt a familiar warmth, and caught a familiar scent. He held her a bit tighter, not wanting to let go. Feeling how she rubbed his back with slow calculated motions.
The boy from before chimed in, holding out his McLaren car to Isack. Who sniffed and looked down, confused. He felt how Gabriel’s mother slowly let go, unsure how to process the action either. “Gabi drove this.” The boy mumbled, “he’d want you to hold it.” Isack sniffled again, before kneeling down to the boy's height. The car was a typical small diecast, but it was the Senna themed McLaren from 2024
Isack placed a hand over the boys and pushed it to his chest. “I believe Gabriel would want you to hold onto it.” Isack answered with an honest smile. Isacks heart ached at how oblivious the younger was, how clear it was that he didn’t understand Isacks fear. “I remember you from the paddock.” Isack said, ruffling the boy's hair. Trying to divert the conversation.
The boy lit up with joy. As if he didn’t expect Isack to remember. “You were the big scary red bull driver that Gabi used to race!” The boy answered, voice squeaky yet hyper. Isack laughed, faking a mock offence. Placing a hand over his chest. “I was not scary!” He insisted jokingly, smiling when the boy shook his head.
“I don’t know, you were pretty scary to me.” Isacks' eyes darted up so quickly, he swore he’d get whiplash somehow. Standing there at the entrance to the garage was a familiar figure. Dressed in his hoodie and jeans. His hair mussed and eyes low. There was a faint bruise on his cheek, one that would go away in a few hours. His eyes watched as Isack stood up.
“Gabriel.” His voice was quick cut, almost shocked to see the other man standing. “Like they said, I’m okay.” There was hesitancy, even as the Brazilians' eyes darted from Isack to the smashed up car. “You need to go back to your team.” This time Gabriel’s voice was stern, threatening. As if the air shifted all of a sudden. It made Isack shiver, but nod slowly. Gabriel wasn’t wrong. His helmet had hit the ground a while ago, and his exhaustion and sweat was seeping into his bones.
Isack gave the young boy one last smile, before turning his back. Grabbing his helmet off the ground, with the connected HANS device. Trying his hardest to ignore the car sitting next to him, the reminders of a ghost. A living and breathing ghost, standing at the entrance. “And Isack.” Gabriel started, watching how Isacks back stayed facing him.
He knew how stubborn the Frenchman was. “Thank you. I’m sorry.” That’s when Isack let out a choked sob, shaking his head. “You always apologize for stuff that’s…” he thought of his words carefully, biting his lip. “It’s fine.” He settled on simplicity, walking out of the garage with only the sound of the outside world filling the void.
Gabriel watched as Isack promptly left. Not giving the Algerian so much as a goodbye, nor a wave. And Isack accepted that. Part of him was glad Gabriel brushed him off. It made hating him easier, it made being scared for him easier. But the other part of isack was still scared, seeing a ghost of a man. The bruise on his cheekbone, that’ll probably fade by tomorrow. To see him unharmed, that’s the scariest part.
As Isack left the garage, he noticed the lack of cameras surrounding Sauber. All aimed towards the top three, which is reasonable. His brain reminded him, he became aware of every part of his body the wet and sweaty suit touched. Making him shiver again, waving at fans that did watch him. Even waving bye to some of the Sauber employees who did the same.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Isack jumped at the voice. Turning around again. They were still behind the barrier that Sauber put up. “You followed me.” Isack said, avoiding the question. “I watch you, almost as much as I watch my Gabi.” Enzo answered. “I can tell you’re not okay.” Isack didn’t wanna answer, he didn’t wanna give into fear, the feeling he knew. “And if I wasn’t okay?” Isack slowly asked.
Enzo shrugged. “Then maybe you tell him.” The older man sighed, “you and him are stubborn.” There was a bite to his tone, almost fatherly. It made Isack flinch. It kind of made the Algerian happy that Gabriel’s father wasn’t in the garage. He’s sure he’d only remember Isack as the boy from the Qatar race who ruined his son's evening.
“I have to go. Thank you.” Enzo just nodded. Not giving so much as a peep.
-
When Isack returned to the VCARB garage, it was nearly empty. “You have to go do an interview.” Alan’s stern voice echoed through the hollow garage. Even as Isack tried his best to keep his sobs in. “They’ll ask about the crash.” Isack knew, he knew himself and Albon would have to speak about it somehow. Or eventually. He could only nod, not giving his team principal a look, just turning away and heading towards the media pen.
“Good race,” the announcer started, Isack could see his frown. “You wanted to make more ground then you perhaps did, Isack.” The man started, all Isack did was nod, a faint smile on his lips. Trying his best to keep it in. “But here's the main thing, it was that you had the view of the Crash,” Isacks smile dropped, he reached down to fiddle with the sleeves of his suit. He couldn’t look at the camera. Not with his glossy eyes.
“That Gabriel Bortoleto, he’s okay. That was a frightening looking crash.” Isack kept nodding, biting the inside of his cheek. He swallowed hard, lowering the cap on his head a bit. He didn’t want to look the other man in the eyes. Avoiding the camera seeing his glossy look. Or the way the bags under his eyes told a story.
“Yeah, that was uh..” Isack wasn’t sure what to say, the image was still fresh in his mind. Replaying over and over again. “Scary.” He started, “very impressive from behind. Uhm, and yeah..” Isack paused, unsure what else to say. The crash was still so new, continuously on loop in his brain. “I think he..” he paused, he saw the DRS flap open, he knew what the Brazilian was trying. He couldn’t admit it, not to the cameras. “He had a good overtake the lap before.” Isack settled with.
“And obviously he tried it again. And uh, I think he got caught by a wet patch or something.” Isack glanced around, looking at anything but the cameras nor the man holding the blue and red microphone. “But yeah, it was quite scary.” The sentence was sharp, quick. The cameras cut quickly, as if they sensed his discomfort. Nodding a thank you before moving on. “Sorry, about asking you.” Isack just nodded and moved onto the next interview, it was the Brazilian people. The lovely lady he’s met various times over the race weeks. He smiled and laughed with her a few times.
He really did not want to continue with interviews, replaying the same words, same stupid reasons for failing to get enough points. It was tiring and repetitive. It felt too showy for him, but there was nothing he could do. He was a robot at this point, the crash was just sitting there. Freezing his brain as if it was his crash and not someone else's. “There he is..” she muttered. Maria, Isack believes is her name, nods towards a driver entering the media pen. Fresh hoodie and jeans, well fresh to them, old to him. “Thank everything he is okay..” she muttered, Isack nodded. Unsure how to process Gabriel being here again.
“Yeah.” Isack mumbled, clearing his throat. “You don’t have to.. Answer questions.” she quipped, noticing his discomfort. “No, I can, it’s fine.” Isack said, telling her to continue. He smiled, it was real this time as he heard the familiar voice behind him, soft and so rich. Isack melted briefly. Worries washing away. “How do you feel after the sprint?” She started, treading carefully. But Isack nodded, “Could have been better.” he joked. She only nodded, smiling back.
Isack found himself not minding this interview.
-
Gabriel found himself growing tired by the second, all his adrenaline and energy drained by interviews, and mock attempts to ignore the ache in his ribs. They’d cleared him an hour or more ago, but he still felt it. The thumping in his ribs, the way his lungs hurt when he breathed. It was all lingering. Even the pit in his stomach. The team insisted the car would be ready by qualifying, but his gut knew the truth.
“Don’t bother,” he’d said in a fury of emotions. He was angry at himself for being so stupid, for thinking he was Max and could pull off such a stupid move. But he continued, storming out of the garage and rushing to the media pen. If anything, he’d rather not be fined over being scolded by Mattia later. Ignoring how Nico frowned at him, noticing his pain and exhaustion.
Gabriel took one simple glance at Hadjar as he left, wishing the Frenchman would stay. Linger a little longer, but even he saw how Isack lit up when Liam stalked over. Clapping the shorter on the back. Gabriel's gaze averted immediately. Even with a simple scoff under his breath, he wanted this day to be over. His own fucking home race, he just wanted it all gone. Maybe he wanted his seat gone too, perhaps he should have given up the championship.
“That is all.” Gabriel said, waving off the next line of unhappy reporters, piranhas who wanted more out of them than he wanted out of them. A headline, a story, pity. He was bored of it all. His eyes dropped as he passed the VCARB drivers, hearing their laughs. How isack acted as if the case for his fear isn't standing near him.
The Frenchman laughed, and stepped back a bit. Running into Gabriel by accident. “Sorry, mate..” Isacks throat caught. He looked up at Gabriel with a face the Brazilian had never seen before. “Pay attention,” Gabriel said before thinking. Catching how Lawson stiffened nearby. “Sorry.” Isack answered carefully. Gabriel wishes he’d fight back, wishes he’d cause a scene. Give the taller boy a reason to storm out and cry.
“Be nice.” Liam said, interjecting.
Gabriel nodded.
He’d chosen to ignore the Kiwi, knowing the man was right. Gabriel was acting selfish and stupid. It was one home race out of many, he shouldn't be this way. But as he shuffled off without his press officer, and without Nico he felt a cold hand grab his forearm. He could feel the faint tremors through the hoodie “Sorry for my tone,” Liam said softly, letting go of Gabriel's forearm. The Sauber driver turned slowly, confused.
“Okay?” He said simply.
“Not okay, that crash was-” Liam cut himself off with a frown. “Scary?” Gabriel finished for him, “terrifying?” the words came out like venom on skin. He’d heard it all, heard it from thirty different fans, fifty fucking personelle. It was getting annoying and repetitive. Wishing he could shut down what his brain insists is pity. “Gabriel, man.” Gabriel scoffed. “Go back to Isack.” the Brazilian pulled away from Liam, walking off. He didn't want to start a fight with someone who had nothing to do with his pain.
The Brazilian entered the garage with a solemn look on his face. The car had been halfway done. Nearing completion. But even now, at the stage where the car looked back to its old self, he knew it was bullshit. They’d never get the car out in time, let alone in the condition it was in before. Jose pulled Gabriel in by his shoulders, ruffling his hair. “We are trying, kiddo.” The thick Spanish accent carried through Gabriel's ears like needles.
Mattia entered the garage, tapping Gabriel’s back. As if he was trying to find comfort in the situation. “The damage costs a lot,” the man started. Gabriel hated how blunt he was, he hated everything about the Italian. But remained silent, in hopes his silent glances at Jonathan were enough to convey his annoyance. But the older man just stood there, a look on his face that Gabriel couldn’t read.
“He is right kid..” Jonathan’s voice was so quiet, almost like it pained him to admit Mattia was right in any sense. Gabriel bit his lip, turning away from the camera that found its way into the garage. “We’re sorry.” Jose tried for sympathy. But Gabriel just tore away. Shaking his head with a shaky sigh, tears pricking at his eyes.
Gabriel brushed past the employees, rubbing his eyes till they were raw and red. He didn’t want to be in there anymore, not with cameras and mutters. People talking about it could have been avoided. Of course he knows that, how couldn’t he. It was engraved in his mind like a sin.
He rested against the inside wall of the garage entrance.
He sighed, “can you stop blaming yourself.” He said out loud. Hearing the other man nearby sigh. They both hated how easy it was to tell the other was close. Like a pricking feeling, that isn’t actually there. Magnets colliding, yet not quite touching. They weren’t allowed to, not in this life, not ever. Gabriel wouldn’t let himself fall into that.
Isack remained silent as he leaned against the frame of the entrance. Not paying mind to the cameras that came close, the ones that dared to tread around the angered Brazilian. “It’s not your fault.” Gabriel added slowly. He didn't understand why Isack was treating it as such. In no way could Isack have predicted Gabriel’s stupidity.
“It’s not your fault.” He added again.
“But it could have been. That’s what makes it my fault.”
Gabriel’s breath caught, as he looked over at the shorter man. Whose head was down in defeat. “They did the calculations..” Isack started, his own voice was so small, so fragile. “..if I braked later than I did by a fraction of a second. You would have been on your halo.” Gabriel nodded, he saw Isacks car behind him slowdown. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t follow suit, what may have prompted him to make a stupid move on Albon.
No words came out of his mouth, he wasn’t sure what to say. Not much of what Isack was saying hasn’t been said to him. He hears the rumours, they spread fast. Especially ones surrounding crashes. Be it among rookies or not. And Gabriel isn’t new to being the talk of the paddock, it was something he was notorious for in formula two. “But I didn’t land on my halo,” Gabriel reiterated, annoyingly.
“57Gs, Bortoleto. That’s nothing to sneeze at.” Isacks voice was stern, straight to the point. Using his last name like they always did. First names were too intimate, too meaningful. It was easier to use Hadjar and Bortoleto, it made the blow hurt less. The hatred is easier.
“I’m here, walking.” Gabriel pointed out, getting a pointed look in return. All the taller driver could do was throw his arms up frustrated, that’s all he’s been doing for the past few hours. “What? You wanna monitor me all day today? Come to my hotel room then.” The ending slipped out so carelessly. It was stupid. Isack had a girlfriend, the concept of this was wrong.
Isack scoffed, “are you going to be like this all week?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest with a defiant look. Something that told the Brazilian to dare him. But Gabriel just shrunk, “it’s my home race, Hadjar.” Isack shook his head, “home race or not. You crashed, badly.” The tremble in his voice was carried away by the outside noise.
When Gabriel didn’t reply, Isack stormed off. They both knew his pride meant more than anything else, more than his sense. It hurt the Algerian to see such a strong driver be rescued to petty emotions, and lack of faith.
As Isack got further away, Gabriel’s voice carried.
“Don’t go..”
-
Running into Hulkenberg was the last of Isacks expectations. The tall German just eyed him as he paced. Isack had accidentally bumped into the much older by complete accident while storming off. He hadn’t expected to come into contact with him, let alone see him this weekend. “He’s so stubborn!” Isack started, his voice was still raw from the sobbing.
Because that happened. He’d run into Nico, and broke down. Nicos arms tightened around him, holding him close through his inevitable break down. But now he was pacing the vacant room, only thirty minutes before qualifying. “I know.” Nico added, his shoulders sagged. “I know him more,” Isack said before thinking, stopping in his tracks.
The German nodded, “Yes.. you do, you know him a lot more intimately than me.” Nico admitted, keeping an eye on Isack. The Frenchman stopped pacing, looking at Nico. The older man sat there with an unchanged expression. As if he knew it was futile to argue with Isack. “Not like that.” Isack added carefully, because it was true. He and Gabriel were friends, nothing more, nothing less.
“You two raced in regional together, didn’t you?” Nico asked carefully. Isack shrugged, “possibly. In 2021.” He added, it was true. They’d raced regional at the same time, and yes it’s true Gabriel would take his spot at R-Ace GP in 2022. But it didn’t mean much, they were never on the podium together, even worse, never landed near each other.
Gabriel would come second in his FA-Racing car, and Isack would be tucked away in R-Ace. Or maybe it was vice versa. But when Isack moved to F3, they’d never spoken. He’d seen the Brazilian racers' Instagram posts and liked them all the time. But they never spoke. He knows there’s photos out there where he’s hidden in the background, lurking. Maybe eyeing the Brazilian.
But it was ignorance. He didn’t know the guy, he only remembered his name.
“Listen Isack,” Nico started. “Go to qualifying, do well. Talk to him afterwards.” Isack shook his head. He didn’t want to talk to Gabriel, that was the point. It was scary. He’d never see the Brazilian so angry, nor so vocal before. Not since f2 press conferences. When he would mock Isack, or vice versa.
“Yes, Isack.” Nicos voice was stern, top heavy.
“You talk to him,” Hadjar offered with a confident smile on his lips. His eyes lit up, watching the German closely, whose face didn’t change an inch. Isack deflated, and sighed. The day was too complicated, too complex for him to handle. He wanted to go back to the hotel and sleep.
“Why would I talk to him?” Hulkenberg asked.
“You’re close”
“Only for the cameras,” Isack froze. He’d always assumed something was up with them. But he hadn’t thought it was all for the cameras. Whereas he and Liam get along closely. They can touch and hug without cameras on them. But Isack hadn’t thought Gabriel’s relationships were still rocky with teammates, it made his heart sink.
“Like I said, talk to him.” Nico clapped his hands against his knees and stood up. Giving Isack one final squeeze on the shoulder. The older man tried his best to provide Isack with sympathy and understanding. But it wasn’t much, the problem stayed. His worries lingered.