LDR Ch 11

As predicted, the rain was supposed to intensify soon, so per the FIA’s request, all drivers went out with wet tires (designed for heavy rain). However, as the rain actually began to subside, some drivers had already switched to intermediate tires.

“Rain’s not coming?”

“Not sure. But the track’s drying, so Nate came in.”

“So, no rain then?”

This was definitely going to make the broadcast. All team radios were on an open channel, so some of the more interesting exchanges were aired.

“If you’re sure it’s not gonna rain, let’s hold out and switch to slicks (dry tires). Alpi hasn’t changed yet, right?”

“Yeah. Including you, five drivers are still on wets.”

“Let me know when people start switching to slicks.”

Leo let out a heavy sigh. It wasn’t about whether Harrison’s judgment was right or wrong. The issue was that Harrison had experienced undeniable sabotage at his previous team. There were times when he was forced into poorly timed pit stops under the guise of avoiding conflict with his teammate, Stephan. Double-stack pit stops (where two drivers pit consecutively) always ended in disaster, with Harrison, as the second driver, suffering the bigger loss. Sometimes, miscalculated timings meant he couldn’t even go out for his final qualifying lap.

Whether it was a strategic failure or a political sacrifice, Harrison had been through a lot. Though he didn’t show it openly, he didn’t fully trust his team. Moreover, since transferring, Harrison’s decisions had consistently yielded better results than the team’s strategies. So when his instincts clashed with the team’s, he had no intention of following their lead.

Leo, for his part, almost wished Harrison’s judgment would be wrong this time, even if it meant a slight loss, just to teach him a lesson to trust the team in the future. But the track was drying so quickly that the commentators were already speculating on which team would be the first to switch to dry tires, rendering the switch to intermediates pointless.

“Two drivers have gone to slicks. Keep an eye out for now.”

Not long after, Manuel reported that a few drivers running at the back had switched to slick tires, and Harrison responded immediately.

“Got it.”

The monitors showed other teams exchanging similar radio communications. As drivers who had switched to slicks completed a lap without issue, some teams began suggesting slicks to their drivers.

Then, a driver who had switched to slicks—faster than intermediates or wets—spun out while climbing Raidillon through Eau Rouge, as their rear tire wobbled, causing the car to spin dramatically.

Fortunately, there were no cars close enough to cause a chain collision, and the buffer zone in that section prevented a major accident. However, debris scattered across the track, prompting a yellow flag and the deployment of the safety car.

“Harry, come to the pits.”

“Who was it? They okay?”

“It was James, and he’s fine.”

During a safety car period, overtaking, pulling away, or speeding up wasn’t allowed, so pit stops were less costly than under normal racing conditions. Seizing the opportunity, Harry and the other drivers still on wet tires flooded into the pit lane.

The influx caused chaos on both entry and exit, resulting in slightly delayed pit stops for everyone. Harrison’s stop was no exception—in fact, it was far from minor. At 6.2 seconds, it was a complete disaster.

In contrast, Alfred, who was running behind Harrison on the track and pitted immediately after, had a respectable 2.6-second stop. Moreover, while Alfred exited the pit lane smoothly, Harrison was held up by another car entering the pits, costing him even more time.

“Why’s that guy in front of me…?”

Despite everything he’d done to hold his position, Harrison’s frustration was palpable as the pit stop shuffled the order, and everyone could hear him biting back curses.

“Harry, you’ve got this.”

Manuel’s encouragement sounded like he was talking to a six-year-old, and though Harrison didn’t respond immediately, his slightly shaky voice soon came through the radio.

“It’s fine. I’ve got this.”

More a self-assurance than a response, his words were followed by a signal that the safety car would withdraw on the next lap. The track still had drivers like Nate, who thought it was too risky to switch to slicks and stayed on intermediates, alongside the majority who had pitted for slicks during the safety car. Which choice was correct would soon be proven.

With the safety car narrowing the gaps between cars, now was the best time for overtaking. However, with the track not fully dry, DRS (the rear wing adjustment for increased straight-line speed) wasn’t yet permitted, so drivers would have to rely on corners for overtaking. Spa-Francorchamps’ Sector 2 had many corners, making overtaking difficult, so missing a chance in Sector 1 meant waiting until the final sector. Naturally, everyone would be gunning to gain positions at the first corner.

Of course, Harrison, who had entered the pits early only to find himself inexplicably in second place upon rejoining the track, likely had the strongest drive to reclaim his spot.

“The race is back on!”

All the cars surged forward in an instant. Amidst it, Harrison, on slick tires, dove into the inside of a still-damp corner. His car wobbled slightly, but Alfred, also on slicks, slid as he hit a wet patch, allowing Harrison to quickly stabilize his car, seize Alfred’s racing line, and shoot ahead.

“Nice job. Now focus.”

Unlike Manuel’s calm voice over the radio, the commentators on the headset were buzzing with excitement over what they called an unbelievably bold move. Leo, caught somewhere between those two voices, stared at the screen. There wasn’t a trace of hesitation in the silhouette climbing the hill.

Even after the safety car period, the track, still slightly damp, dried quickly as cars passed over it. DRS was permitted shortly after, and the midfield battle grew intense. Most astonishingly, Harrison held onto first place until the race’s final moments.

ABW’s chronic issue was a lack of straight-line speed. Alfred’s car had the edge in straights, but the rain had forced a setup that sacrificed some straight-line speed for better cornering, so the advantage wasn’t overwhelming.

As a result, the gap closed slightly on straights but widened in corners, creating a constant back-and-forth. Naturally, in such a battle, braking as late as possible was key. Both drivers’ tires were worn from the relentless fight, but the pursuer’s tires were in worse shape due to running in dirty air behind Harrison. That was the slim hope Harrison clung to.

Harrison was hanging on by a thread. A single mistake could cost him the lead. A 14th-place driver might yield to 15th, or a 7th-place driver might give way to 8th if tire management was a priority. But first place couldn’t afford to be overtaken.

“Harry, your brake temps are too high.”

“Doesn’t matter. If something breaks, I’ll drag the car myself.”

Perhaps hearing the radio about an issue with Harrison’s car, Alfred, who had been managing his tires and keeping a slight distance for the past three laps, closed in tightly again.

“I’m leaving it all to you now, Harry.”

At that moment, Alfred dove into the inside of a corner, their cars running wheel-to-wheel so closely they nearly touched.

“No way!”

Harrison, barely exiting the corner first, shouted urgently, and Manuel responded calmly but quickly.

“Did you hit?”

“No! Don’t leave it all to me—pray for me!”

“Got it.”

Then, the broadcast camera suddenly panned to Manuel’s back, catching him, albeit briefly, genuinely praying.

And so, the race ended. Harry took the checkered flag in first, while Alfred, who relentlessly tried to overtake until the final corner, finished a close second. Despite the advantage of clean air, ABW’s cars this season had a weakness in faster tire wear, and Harrison’s tires were in tatters. One more lap, and the order might have flipped—but not today.

“You don’t have to say you love me.”

Harrison’s voice, tinged with laughter, was followed by Simon’s, bursting with excitement as he joined the channel.

“I love you, Harry, you’re the best! You’re number one!”

Meanwhile, the mechanics rushed to the pit wall, cheering for the driver who brought them victory and the accompanying bonus. Engineers, the team principal, and even Heather joined the crowd welcoming Harrison. Leo followed but lagged behind, so by the time he arrived, Harrison was already giving interviews.

Leo knew the cooldown room (where drivers wait before the podium) would be awkward, with Lorenzo in third. It didn’t help that Harrison and Lorenzo had clashed at the last driver meeting over a penalty from the previous race. Thankfully, the circuit was dangerous, and the weather was rough, so the two had raced respectfully, giving each other space. The atmosphere with Alfred, who Harrison had battled all race, was fortunately amicable.

Leo stood still, watching Harrison. Harrison climbed to the center of the podium, grinning widely at the ABW team below before attempting a solemn expression as the British national anthem played. As soon as it ended, he rushed to Simon, who was on the podium as the team representative, dousing him with champagne. Then, dodging Alfred’s champagne spray, he ran into Lorenzo.

Harrison and Lorenzo awkwardly exchanged polite champagne sprays before Harrison moved to the front of the podium, showering the team below. Leo couldn’t fathom how he aimed so accurately from that distance.

The champagne droplets sparkled under the lights. And Leo watched, captivated by Harrison’s unrelenting, radiant smile—a smile unchanged since he was six, a smile Leo realized, once again, he loved so deeply.

After the post-race interviews, Harrison returned to the garage, immediately pulling a champagne-soaked Manuel into a tight hug before turning to Leo through the crowd of mechanics. His face lit up with a grin that briefly gave way to a serious expression.

“Bettenberg—Kunz, can we talk for a moment?”

The sudden formal address made the atmosphere tense. Everyone knew Leo and Harrison were old friends, so the use of surnames raised eyebrows, including Leo’s.

“Yeah.”

Leo responded, and Harrison led the way to the driver’s private room connected to the garage, holding the door open. Suspicious but following, Leo stepped inside, only for Harrison to push him against the door and kiss him.

Caught off guard, Leo froze, unable to react as Harrison deepened the kiss, then pulled back with a smile, looking at him. Leo couldn’t help but laugh, pulling Harrison’s neck closer for another kiss. Biting gently at his champagne-scented lips, Leo leaned his forehead against Harrison’s.

“What are you gonna tell the people outside?”

Finally regaining his senses, Leo spoke, and Harrison, brushing his lips lightly, replied with a grin.

“Sponsorship extension.”

He’d already prepared an excuse. Harrison had always been impulsive, but he always had a cover story ready. Leo gently touched the watch Harrison had put on the moment he stepped out of the car, pulling his wrist closer. As their lips met again, tickling the inside of his wrist, laughter spilled between them.

“Wait for me. I’ll be quick with the debrief.”

Nodding, Leo kissed him lightly again, and Harrison repeated, almost pleading.

“Wait for me.”

Leo laughed, and Harrison mirrored it, stealing one more quick kiss before sighing reluctantly. Win or retire, the post-race debrief was unavoidable.

Leo opened the door, and they returned to the garage, where the team’s curious glances lingered.

“We talked about a sponsorship extension,” Leo said matter-of-factly.

Harrison, still buzzing with excitement, didn’t seem to care, and Manuel, chatting with engineers nearby, chimed in.

“Oh, I thought it was something else.”

The atmosphere relaxed, but Leo avoided Heather’s gaze. She surely knew no such conversation had happened.

Fortunately, Heather soon left with other media team members to handle the influx of questions about the win, and most of the team filed out to analyze the race. Watching Harrison head to the debriefing room with the others, Leo paused.

The first time he saw Harrison karting, he knew. From the moment they met, he knew this kid would stand atop the podium, trophy in hand. He was destined for it.

Standing alone in the bustling garage, preparing equipment for the next circuit, memories flooded Leo’s mind in a jumbled mess. The first time he met Harrison outside a kart, quiet and reserved but always matching Leo’s pace with quiet kindness. The racing games they played, which Harrison wasn’t great at but indulged because Leo insisted, eventually becoming their routine.

Scattered yet connected, every moment swirled together. The stupid things they did stealing drinks for the first time, walking aimlessly, watching Jude’s races together, worrying about school exams on the way to kart races, Harrison sneaking mushrooms onto Leo’s plate, the sensation of needles on his skin.

His first win, the suppressed anger in his voice, the trace of ink on his skin, his fearless gaze, his motionless body on a hospital bed, his radiant confidence, the damp driver’s suit, the champagne-scented lips, and that brilliant smile.

In the noisy garage, amidst overflowing memories, Leo stood alone.

For the first time, this love felt frightening.

Italian Grand Prix

Monza Circuit

After tasting the glory of first place, Harrison took third in the next Grand Prix, driving almost every lap alone as the leaders pulled far ahead and the drivers behind fell back. And now, the Italian Grand Prix at Monza had arrived.

“Wanna go to the villa after?”

On the flight to Italy, Harrison’s question pulled Leo’s attention from his emails. Leo’s grandfather had passed away two years ago, choosing to spend his final days at a villa on the outskirts of Switzerland rather than a hospital.

Leo, who mostly lived in England, stayed in Switzerland to spend time with his grandfather, and Harrison followed without hesitation. They spent about a year there together, and the villa wasn’t far from Monza.

The F1 schedule was always similar, and even during their time at the villa, a race was held at Monza. Leo hadn’t planned to attend, but his grandfather insisted he go to the Italian Grand Prix, saying he himself never missed Monza in the past. That year, it became one of the few Grands Prix Leo attended.

“Am I driving again?”

After that race, they’d driven back to the villa, just as his grandfather used to. Despite the long distance, Leo didn’t recall feeling tired. What lingered was the beautiful scenery and Harrison’s voice chatting beside him. Of course, Leo had driven.

“I’ll take turns this time,” Harrison said with a playful tone.

Leo shook his head, laughing. “There’s an event, remember?”

Indeed, the Italian Grand Prix was symbolically significant, with several sponsor events. Both Harrison and Leo had to attend a few.

“Which ones are you going to again?”

“You’re on your own since we can’t be together. Be social.”