LDR Ch 15

Leo could vividly imagine the face inside that car, inside the helmet, inside the mask, as if it were drawn before him. Erasing all the surrounding scenery, he focused solely on the intense gaze directed at the one spot he needed to see.

At Turn 18, Harrison, having nearly caught up to Elias, activated DRS on the following straight. No matter how fast Elias was on the straights, the gap wasn’t so significant that Harrison couldn’t close it even with DRS. However, just ahead of Elias was a backmarker (a car more than one lap behind), and as expected, Elias used DRS as well (available when within one second of the car ahead) to pull away effortlessly.

But immediately after, at the sharply turning Turn 19, Elias’s car, unable to control the speed it had built up, slid off the track. Harrison didn’t miss the opportunity and swiftly took the position. His car then navigated Turn 19 and the even sharper Turn 20 without slipping, while extracting the maximum possible speed to clear the corners.

Leo tore his eyes away from the broadcast screen and looked outside. Harrison was charging down the main straight, with Elias hot on his tail. Just as it seemed Elias might catch up, Harrison entered Turn 1 first. Elias dove inside, but it was Harrison who emerged ahead.

The people around Leo in the paddock, including Eric, erupted in cheers, but Leo’s attention was drawn to the replay of the earlier corner battle on the broadcast. Elias had gone for the inside, and Harrison didn’t yield.

Just before the two cars nearly collided, Elias slowed down, allowing Harrison to exit the corner cleanly. The message was clear: this corner is mine, and if you try to take it, we’ll both go down. If Elias hadn’t backed off, they would have crashed.

At the end of that fierce battle, Leo watched as Lorenzo took the checkered flag in first place. A few cars followed, with Harrison’s car coming in fourth.

Though he didn’t make the podium, Harrison hadn’t just started in fifth and gained one position to finish fourth. It was a hard-fought position earned through intense racing, so the people in the ABW paddock club seemed more excited than disappointed. Moreover, Nathan had also climbed as high as possible to finish sixth, making it a thoroughly satisfying race for the team.

“Congratulations! Both of them got great positions, right?”

Leo smiled at Eric’s words of congratulations but couldn’t take his eyes off Harrison’s car as it entered parc fermé (the area where cars are kept before and after the race). He felt something small and rough slip through his fingers. It was as if the sand he’d been tightly gripping in his hand was slowly seeping through the gaps.

While staying in Austin, Leo instinctively checked his watch when he saw Harrison sitting at the front porch of the house.

“Why are you here?”

Leo had been on his way back from having dinner with Eric, but it was still early enough for Harrison to be at a party.

“Just stopped by to say hi.”

“Why?”

“My boyfriend seemed upset.”

At that, Leo crossed his arms and looked at Harrison. This was the most frustrating thing about Harrison. He was always a competitor. He knew exactly when to step up, and when that moment came, he’d come to Leo’s side as if nothing else mattered. He never even gave Leo a chance to be disappointed by saying racing was the only thing that mattered.

“Leo, my boyfriend’s been in a bad mood lately. What should I do?”

“Oh, get lost, seriously.”

“Seriously?”

Harrison, as if revealing some secret, took his time pulling out a paper box from behind his back.

“I just ate dinner.”

“You probably spent the rest of the time talking about work anyway. Take a look.”

At that, Leo glanced inside the box.

“Milkshake?”

Inside were tacos and a milkshake. Not alcohol, but a milkshake. Did he think Leo was still 17? Leo let out a dry laugh, and Harrison, chuckling along, stood up. He placed the food on a table in the garden, draped his jacket over a chair, and sat Leo down.

“Eat up. It’s okay if you grow a bit more.”

At those words, Leo finally laughed and shook his head. Naturally, the lighter a driver’s weight, the better for racing. Nowadays, teams couldn’t pressure drivers about their weight, as regulations required adding ballast if a driver was below a certain weight, but that rule hadn’t been around for long.

Even so, no one had ever told Leo to lose weight, but he still worried that if he grew too tall, he wouldn’t fit in the cockpit, so he controlled his diet. Especially when he noticed he’d grown taller, he’d be extra cautious, even skipping meals entirely some days during his growth spurts, fearing he’d keep growing.

Whenever that happened, Harrison would always show up with foods that weren’t exactly diet-friendly but were perfect for lifting spirits, sneaking them to Leo. Even now, moments like this felt like a return to those old days.

“What was all that fuss about growing taller?”

Thinking back on those days, which hadn’t even been that effective, Harrison nodded as he stuck a straw into the milkshake.

“I think I could stand to lose a bit of weight.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t grow taller.”

“If I’d grown any more, no one would’ve taken me. Good thing Jamie and Luca are around now.”

As he said, when Harrison debuted in F1, most of the grid was under 180 cm, with the tallest barely reaching the early 180s. At 187 cm, Harrison stood out like a sore thumb. But in recent years, a few drivers closer to his height had joined, making things a bit better.

“Why aren’t you eating?”

Seeing Harrison just watching him eat, Leo asked, and Harrison gave a wistful smile.

“They told me to slim down a bit.”

“Why?”

With the regulations, losing weight would just mean adding ballast, so what was the point?

“It’s hard to move my arms.”

That was a different matter. For tall drivers, cramming arms and legs into the cockpit was a given, but at the start of the season, Harrison could barely move his arms in the cockpit, forcing the mechanics and engineers to adjust it.

“You can’t do anything about your bones.”

But that wasn’t a weight issue—it was a fundamental skeletal problem.

“If you can’t change it, just eat.”

At Leo’s serious tone, Harrison laughed.

“Is that something you say to a driver?”

“Yeah.”

Knowing Harrison wouldn’t eat anyway, Leo pushed the salad that came with the meal toward him and asked,

“How was today?”

“The result was okay, but the process was tough.”

“Any issues?”

“They’re analyzing the data back at headquarters, but I kept getting understeer in the corners, so I couldn’t control the brakes properly. It was fine one moment, then not the next—drove me crazy.”

Leo had thought Harrison’s tires were worn out, but it seemed there was another issue causing the pace to drop more than expected.

“What about Eric?”

“If today’s race was boring, he wouldn’t watch F1.”

As he said, not only was there the fight for fourth between Harrison and Elias, but the battle for first through third was intense, and the midfield was chaotic, making it a thrilling race.

“He was shocked when you got undercut. You were cursing over the radio, weren’t you?”

“Oh, Neil? Probably?”

Even Harrison didn’t sound certain.

“But, well, there was a train behind, so the pit timing was tricky anyway.”

That was easy to say since he’d overtaken anyway. But the fact was, he’d pulled off a decent result.

“Eric says congrats. He’ll see you in the garage next time.”

“When’s next?”

“Next year, probably.”

Geographically, the upcoming Mexico and Brazil Grands Prix were closer, but it didn’t seem likely Eric would come to both. After the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix, the season would end, so it’d probably be next year. Of course, that depended on ABW maintaining their partnership with good results.

That thought naturally led to next year. With the team restructuring—engineers, drivers, mechanics, and all—Leo had ended up following the Grands Prix. But technically, his main role was sponsorship management.

Ideally, he’d be at the UK headquarters now, but since the team was stabilizing, he’d likely be based there next year. He’d probably only attend the European Grands Prix, and even then, not for the whole event like now—maybe just the race, or at best, qualifying too. And even that might be an extension of work, watching with other sponsors.

“I don’t know why I can’t close my eyes at the first corner.”

The sudden comment made Harrison tilt the milkshake, which he’d grabbed because it was cold, toward Leo.

“Why?”

“Drivers’ partners or families do that, don’t they? Closing their eyes and praying because they’re worried about a crash.”

“What era are you talking about? Who does that these days?”

At the nonchalant tone, Leo replied calmly,

“My mom did that when I raced.”

“Of course she would. She had to. There are so many crashes at the first corner, it’s nerve-wracking.”

Leo stared at Harrison, dumbfounded by the quick shift, but Harrison looked back casually, then laughed, perhaps a bit embarrassed himself.

“I worry about you too.”

That’s why Leo couldn’t understand it. He knew the possibilities. He knew the shake of the brakes. He knew the feeling of a car losing its center. He knew the intensity from the five lights going out to the first corner. He knew accidents there were judged more leniently due to their nature. He knew that made crashes more likely. And he knew Harrison was there. Always.

Yet Leo still felt that thrill. The unknown of what might happen, who’d take the lead, who’d lose pace—he still felt that trembling anticipation. Not just fear, but an undeniable excitement.

“I know. And you love F1 too.”

Unlike Leo’s complex emotions, Harrison’s voice was almost cheerful. Leo squinted at him.

“I love you more.”

“I know.”

Harrison maintained his calm demeanor and lightly kissed Leo’s cheek.

“I also know that you not closing your eyes and praying until the first corner doesn’t mean you worry about me any less.”

With that, Harrison rubbed his hands together and warmed Leo’s ears, chilled by the late October night air, with his hands.

“Me watching you crash into the wall in Monaco doesn’t mean I worry about you any less.”

“That was a shitty thing to do.”

Before Leo could feel touched, he blurted it out, and Harrison, as if confused, said,

“Why? I don’t watch anything else. Monaco’s crashes are so smooth, that’s why I watch. The others are scary.”

Harrison reenacted the scene, extending his arm as if gripping the wheel, then twisting and gently tapping Leo’s cheek. The memory of that crash used to haunt Leo every night, and now Harrison was bringing it up again. Glaring at him, Leo said in a low voice,

“You’re gonna tease me until you die.”

To Harrison, ever since he was six, there’d been nothing but racing. He wasn’t even interested in people—except for Leo, who he’d always reacted to differently, especially when it came to teasing.

“That’d be nice.”

His unapologetic tone was annoyingly pleasant. From childhood, Harrison let people come to him but never stopped them from leaving—except for Leo, the only one he approached first. People thought Leo must love that privilege. They didn’t know it was mostly for teasing.

But the undeniable truth was that Leo did love that privilege. To say it was just childish would be wrong—it still got to him now, making him feel even worse.

“And how do you miss the start? That’s the highlight.”

At Harrison’s calm voice, Leo squinted, then let out a dry laugh. Their conversations always circled back to this.

“But if we’re being honest, the highlight today was when you overtook at Turn 20. You were waiting for a mistake, weren’t you?”

Leo had been on the receiving end of that a few times before. Now, Harrison was more cunning, pressuring opponents in the most infuriating way. He wasn’t just a driver waiting for mistakes—he forced them, making him even harder to deal with.

“Of course. And he did.”

“How many laps did you tail him, 12 or so?”

“Something like that. It was time for him to slip up.”

Elias, who’d been battling Harrison all race, was fast but mentally weak under pressure. So Harrison didn’t just try to overtake—he pressured Elias into making a mistake. Not that he didn’t attempt overtakes either.

“You don’t do that.”

That’s what made Harrison remarkable. Even under intense pressure, he never made mistakes on his own. If not for that, even if he was Leo’s boyfriend, Leo’s grandfather’s team—now owned by his grandmother—wouldn’t have signed him.

“Every driver should have to fight their teammate for five years. And deal with being outpaced by other teams’ cars.”

He spoke with the air of someone who’d seen it all. No one could say Harrison, a champion at 23, was unlucky, but from Leo’s perspective, having watched it all, it was a miracle he hadn’t lost his mind.

The opponents Harrison faced were masters of subtle track interference, off-track politics, and media handling. As a result, Harrison’s sense of pressure was so skewed he barely felt it anymore.

“And I saw the highlights—Renzo had a fun race too, didn’t he?”

At the casual remark, Leo answered naturally,

“Yeah, he locked up at Turn 20, but Alfi behind him locked up too, so he got away with it. And a backmarker wouldn’t move, so he got held up. I didn’t check, but his radio was probably full of cursing today.”

It was just a response, but Harrison stared at Leo intently.

“What?”

When Leo asked, Harrison answered, still looking at him,

“Leo, do you remember the first time we watched F1 together? It was Hungaroring.”

Leo looked at Harrison for a moment. Twenty years ago, when they first met, Harrison loved karting but had no interest in races. Living in the UK, near Silverstone, he’d only watched F1 on TV and had never been to a race.

Leo couldn’t understand it from the moment he met him. How could someone like that not love F1? Even without knowing karting, Leo instinctively felt that if talent could be personified, it was Harrison.

From that day, Leo followed Harrison around, insisting he had to love F1, and eventually dragged him to a race. He couldn’t remember where, but it was Hungaroring.

“You kept saying I had to watch F1 every time you saw me, and if I missed that race, there wouldn’t be another for a month, so you made my parents come along too.”

As he said, that’s how it all started. Harrison, who only liked karting and didn’t even watch F1 at home, started watching races with Leo when nagged, then began following them on his own.

Even then, Harrison didn’t think about racing professionally or even realize drivers existed in F1. It was Leo who told him he’d make it to F1, researching and explaining the entire path to get there.

Harrison, who’d only been karting passionately, started competing in kart races, then moved through junior categories, F4, F3, F2, and eventually declared he’d reach F1—and he did.

“I had more fun watching you. You said you’d explain the race to me, but once it started, you were more focused than I was. Honestly, there weren’t even any overtakes, so I didn’t know what was going on.”

His calm, nostalgic voice reached Leo.

“You came first. You loved F1 first.”

Leo felt the tender, gentle memories in that voice.

“I just liked driving, but you loved the whole world of it.”

That’s why Leo knew. Harrison had come to love this world too. And Leo had started loving it even earlier.

“Remember your first girlfriend, Mari?”