Chapter Text
Surrey, England
McLaren HQ
"Never"
"So you never celebrate Valentine's Day?"
Astrid shrugged, her gaze fixed on the sleek centerpiece of the room. The new McLaren MCL38 sat under bright lights, cloaked in papaya orange and carbon fiber, glinting as if daring anyone to question its place on the track. Its front wings jutted like spears, promising to slice through the air—and maybe rivals. Astrid took a breath, a sigh barely escaping her lips. She couldn't decide if it was out of pride or exhaustion. But she could never deny its beauty if you call something meant to speed on a track for 200 miles per hour 'beautiful.'
Eret, her teammate and reigning Formula 1 champion, nudged her. "So, was that sigh because you've never had a proper Valentine's?"
"Why does launch day on Valentine's bother you so much?" She gave him a sidelong glance.
Her arms were crossed, and her nose was slightly perched from how she scrunched her face. And Eret knew, from the three years they've worked together, that she was either lost in thought or annoyed at him. He chose to believe the former rather than the latter (because the latter choice had many painful consequences).
"Why does having launch day on Valentine's bother you so much ?" She finally looks towards him with a single brow raised, subtly curious, but in reality, she just wanted to erase any thought of her Valentine's Day dilemma…or lack thereof.
"Who launches a car on Valentine's Day? Romance is dead, I swear." Eret replies, rolling his eyes before crossing his arms.
"Oh please, Eret. You're going to try and convince me you had plans?"
"Hey, I've been on dates!" Eret defended himself, puffing his chest just as the doors to the meeting room slid open, letting them slip into the warmth inside.
"And yet you're here with me. Charming." Astrid says as she chuckles softly, quivering an eyebrow as she settles into her chair.
"Hey! I've been on dates. Dustin, you know, the new trainer?"
"Dustin… as in the gym guy?" She raised an eyebrow, mildly amused.
"Well, yes. But technically, it's one-on-one training sessions," Eret mumbled, crossing his arms defensively.
Astrid smirked. "So you're calling workout session dates now?"
"Look, Astrid," he said in that mock-serious tone he reserved when losing an argument.
"Not everyone can have their pick."
"Poor thing. Last year's F1 champion, looking like a Norse god on GQ covers, complaining about his nonexistent love life." She chuckled, deciding to push his buttons.
Eret groaned. "If you keep talking like that, I'll need a new teammate."
"And maybe I'll need a new gym instructor for you," she retorted.
They both sank into their seats, filling the room with the low hum of crew chatter. Astrid's mind drifted through the motions she knew would follow: car specs, race strategies, even last-minute reminders about passport renewals for the globe-trotting schedule ahead. The usual F1 pre-season whirl. But she couldn't quite shake the feeling of an impending storm.
"Besides, who are you to complain when you get to celebrate Valentine's with this face?" She sultrily looks towards his direction and exaggerates her batted lashes, earning her a mock groan of annoyance from her teammate.
"Save your perfectly lifted lashes when Vogue decides to cover us again in Baku; besides, we've established you're not my type." He shakes his head in mock annoyance as he looks away from her.
"And you aren't your crush's," She bullies him once more, rolling her eyes again; Eret thinks he's seen her eyes roll more than their natural state of still gazes. They both sank into the plush seats of the meeting room, waiting for the rest of the McLaren racing team to file into their seats.
Their focus broke as someone's gasp shattered the room's relative calm.
"Oh my goodness!"
"What?"
"FERRARI??"
“HIRO HAMADA FOR RED BULL!”
"WHAT?" Now both Eret and Astrid stood up from their seats and towards the group, hunched over their phones like vultures over the carcass of a small dead animal, the small animal being the news that Hiro Hamada had signed for Red Bull Racing when the whole world was sure he was up next to take the other vacant seat of Ferrari's racing team.
"Wait, wait. Hiro freaking Hamada signed with Red Bull? Hasn't he been Ferrari's reserve driver since last year?" Astrid asks as both she and Eret make their way to the group.
"I don't understand. How'd they even get to him? "Eret followed up just before the other McLaren crew members could reply.
"Yeah, he was their reserve driver," someone said, eyes glued to their phone. "But Red Bull swooped in and signed him!"
Astrid swallowed whatever words she was brewing in her throat, catching the ripple of tension that spread through the room. A whisper of Tadashi's name flickered across the room like a ghost, and Astrid glanced at Eret, whose face fell from its mock annoyance over valentines. Tadashi Hamada, Ferrari's seasoned driver's tragic death during last season's final race had haunted them all, but it cut most resounding for Eret. His championship had been overshadowed, the joy marred by the circumstances that had led him there.
"It's alright, really," Eret finally says after he clears his throat, his voice steady.
"Trust me." He follows up on his statement, offering a small, reassuring smile.
The group fell silent, their faces softening as they watched him, but everyone was still taut with unspoken words. Eret took a deep breath, straightening his shoulders as if bracing against the weight of that final race's memory.
"Look, I know everyone has… opinions on last season," he began, his voice a little too calm. "I get it. How do you feel good about a championship when someone else…" He trailed off, glancing out the window.
"He was a legend. And I just happened to be there when the chips fell." Eret's voice cracked slightly but quickly covered it with a cough.
"None of us knew, Eret. No one saw it coming." Astrid mumbles, giving him a slight nod
Just as the air seemed to settle, Claire, one of their engineers, hesitantly broke the silence. "Um, so… anyone hear who Ferrari got?"
Another strategist blinked. "Well, I thought Hiro was their choice?"
Tod shifted, his eyes widening with anticipation as he glanced at his phone. The tension in the room grew thick, each waiting on edge as he finally looked up.
"This'll probably be broadcast soon, but I got word from a contact at the FIA," he began, lowering his voice like he was sharing a sacred secret.
"Ferrari just signed someone from F2—and it's not who anyone was predicting."
"Who?" Eret's voice cut through the silence, curiosity clear in his tone.
Tod's gaze flickered back to his phone before he read "Henrik Haddock."
It felt like the world had stopped. Astrid's breath hitched, her stomach dropping as his name echoed through the room.
Henrik.
She hadn't seen him in years, but in that split second, her mind projected everything —stolen glances across study halls, late-night talks, the way his hand used to brush against hers as they sketched racing lines in the pages of their notebooks. The Henrik she knew then and the Henrik she'd deliberately left behind. And it was funny because she even rarely called him Henrik.
" Hiccup? "
"Astrid, what? You got the Hiccups?" Eret asked, and Astrid's eyes widened; how dare she let her internal thoughts win to say that old nickname out loud? But there was something about letting that name escape her lips for the first time in a long time. And she would not let that thought linger, not now.
"No, nothing, never mind." Her voice came out louder and sharper than intended, rising an octave higher than usual. The team's heads turned her way, but thankfully, no one seemed to question it. They were as shocked as she was. But Astrid's shock was different—more than anyone here could know. Her heart pounded against her ribcage, so loud she thought everyone must hear it, her palms slick as they clenched into fists. She forced herself to breathe, focusing on keeping her face neutral, but every muscle felt stiff and tense.
"Wait," someone nearby said, brow furrowed in confusion. "Isn't that the guy who was supposed to be with Alpine's reserves last year?"
"I heard something went wrong with his contract, and he got bumped back to F2. How did he end up with Ferrari?" Astrid mutters, though a little too loud. The response came in voluntarily, as if she was verbalizing a thought meant to remain in her head.
"I'm just as surprised as you all are," Astrid says, trying to sound calmer. Her voice is too quick and tight. Too late, she realizes how unnatural it sounds and forces a casual shrug, willing herself to keep cool. Her mind is churning, but she can't afford to let that show.
Eret raised a brow, watching her curiously. “Henrik Haddock, huh? Prema Racing in F2? I've barely heard of him, but you seem awfully… updated on him." He nudged her arm, his tone light, teasing. She resisted the urge to shove him away.
"I just like being up-to-date," she replied, hoping her voice sounded as steady as she intended. She could feel Eret's eyes lingering on her, his gaze full of questions she didn't want to answer. But she couldn't afford to slip now. She took a slow, controlled breath, letting the room's chatter wash over her like static. This was fine. She was fine. If she kept telling herself that, maybe she'd believe it.
Because deep down, every nerve was on edge, buzzing with the cold realization that she'd be spending the next year shadowed by the one person she'd tried to leave behind. Twenty-four races. Twenty-four tracks. Twenty-four chances to run into Henrik, each reminding her of a past she wasn't sure she'd ever truly let go of.
Her hands tightened in her lap, knuckles white. All my guardian angels must've decided to gang up on me this year, she thought bitterly. And now, here she was, caught in the nightmare she'd avoided for so long. Her grandmother's words echoed in her mind: God would punish you for missing church, Astrid. Well, this was punishment indeed.
She forced a smile she didn't feel, brushing off Eret's gaze as she stared blankly ahead. But she couldn't stop her mind from drifting, replaying flashes of that last race they'd run together, the feel of his eyes on her as they waited at the starting line. The look he'd given her then was evident in her memory, even after all these years. And now, he was reappearing on a global stage, thrown into her life when she'd least wanted him back.
There's no greater hell, she thought, than being stuck racing against your high school ex.