Chapter Text
Oscar's POV:
We were here. The first proper race weekend with all the support. Sure, we'd sort of had Belgium but not really. Not in comparison to what we have now.
Whether it be the track walk with a fidget toy in my coat or being able to switch off with my ear defenders between briefings, press conferences and meetings; the weekend felt easier to deal with already. I got breaks when I needed them (mostly) and even just having Kim know made getting into the paddock each morning easier.
And then free practice 3 happened and my weekend kind of went to shit.
Between the bad weather and horrific memories of last year, Zandvoort was not a track I particularly looked forward to. Still, the McLaren was strong here this weekend (and in general recently) and I didn't want to let anyone down. We were on a good run of things and no one would shut up about the constructor's championship so maybe the pressure was a bit more than I was used to. Lando was top of the first free practice session even in the rain, but I picked my confidence up after managing to put a lap together that was good enough for p2 in fp2.
I started the third practice on intermediate tyres and would have scared myself stupid from all the sliding, if I wasn't so zoned in. Then it came through on radio "turn 3 crash, it's going to be red flags."
"Who is it?" I asked Tom.
"Looks like a Williams hang on." I focused on getting back to the pits safely and that's when I turned into the corner and the carcass of a formula one car came into view. "It's Sargeant." I gulped hard, the car was on fire and he was just sat there. Why was he just sat there. Why wasn't he getting out. Why did it have to be him. "He's said he's okay on radio." That was the only thing that made me carry on driving. Getting out of my car would have been stupid, so fucking stupid. But I wasn't thinking straight and I was panicking. I was not used to panicking in an f1 car and it was like I'd forgotten how to breathe.
When I got back to the pits, one look at my eyes through my open visor was enough for Tom to get the team to get me out the car and move me out of view of the cameras and everyone in the garage. Lando's parents were here this weekend but we're already on the other side of the garage, ready to talk to him. Tom sat me in my driver's room before apologising that he couldn't stay and heading back. Kim came in to sit with me instead and confirmed Logan was fine.
"I don't know why I lost it."
"He's your friend." Kim tried to explain.
"But I always stay calm and like block it all out and I don't-"
"Oscar, stop it. You're fine, it's a blip and it's normal." I looked at him blankly. He handed me my ear defenders and rested a hand on my shoulder, "don't stress yourself out. Take a break. I'll come and get you when we're ready to go again." He left me to it and I understood he was giving me the space to stim (which I've admitted I don't like doing in front of him) and self regulate.
I didn't really answer him though. I don't think I knew how to. I wondered if there was enough time to have a session with Kasper before qualifying. I wondered if it would even help.
Lando's POV:
I was still in the garage, talking to Will and trying to work out how to get as much data and practice out of the session as possible before qualifying later. "You good?" He asked. I nodded, looking at him with a confused expression. "Oscar's just taking a minute so if you needed that too?" Oh yea, it had been Logan that had crashed. But that never normally affected Oscar. Not even Oscar crashing affected Oscar. He always stayed so calm and neutral, or on the outside at least. I wondered what had gone wrong.
"How long d'you reckon we got until we're running again?"
"Mmm, long enough." I nodded and rushed back to Oscar's driver's room, managing to say hello to my parents on the way. There was a hum in reply to my knock on the door and I entered to see my teammate curled up in the corner, ear defenders on.
I held a thumbs up towards him, standing in front of the now closed door. He returned the gesture and shrugged his shoulders. "Some weekends get to you more than others," I said, as kindly as possible, "it's normal Oscar."
"Mhm."
"Hug?" I then asked, knowing he needed them in some contexts and hated them in others. I had learned that it was better to ask. He nodded in reply and stood up to get the full impact.
"Thanks." He mumbled, shifting the ear defenders after the hug had moved them.
"I meant what I said, everyone has a bad session or weekend every now and again." He nodded but I could tell he wasn't really listening to me. I guessed as shocked as I had been to hear he'd got stressed by it, it was probably even worse for him.