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Malaysia was supposed to be a chill race just before a long break. Just something they all had to do, and then go home, chill, maybe turn the simulator once in a while. Rafa was excited about that, he would finally fly to Brazil, focus on something different than his fuckass rival and the whole racing stress. Even though the track was new to everyone on the F2 grid, he thought that it would go just like other races. Boring qualifying, a sprint that could’ve been an email and a race that would give him just some adrenaline. Everybody was tired and just wanted to calm down before the last two races. Oh boy, how was he wrong.
The qualifying went just as expected. Some drivers not really enjoying the circuit, which resulted in them getting poor results. What was important to Rafa was his and his main championship rivals' results. He was desperate for that pole position, and that’s why he got new purple sectors every lap he did. The track was incredibly hot, his soft tyres not even getting through two laps, but he did it. Tired, sweaty and angry, but he did it.
When he got out of his Invicta car, posing for pole position posts, he wondered about the other’s results. Nikola was never a good qualifier, so he wasn’t too worried about that. He was thinking more about Alex, because of his Baku performance. He predicted that the Rodin driver would be in the second row, whilst Tsolov would qualify P5 maximum.
But the result was nothing like he wanted. Alex had an issue in the middle of the session, which resulted in him qualifying P16. Good, really good, actually. What wasn’t good was the other championship rival, qualifying P3. P3 from Nikola Tsolov, who was always really mid during quali sessions, who always found something to complain about, different from his poor qualifying skills. Second row, just behind him. God, it was even worse than Alex starting fucking second.
“Congrats on pole” hears Rafael when he gets back to his motorhome. From nobody different than Nikola Tsolov, his main championship rival, who was also his fuck buddy.
“Congrats on failing to qualify second, again” he replies, not even looking at Nikola. The Bulgarian wanted to say something, reply with an insult as they always did, but Rafael walks faster, to disappear in the Invicta motorhome.
He was angry. Super angry, actually. Not just because the weather conditions were unbearable, and he felt every part of his body uncomfortably sweaty. Mostly because of the fact that a qualifying garbage, Tsolov, whose best qualifying position was probably sixth or fifth, managed to scrape through P3. and the audacity he had to congratulate Camara on the pole he obviously got, as always.
He knew how good Nikola was in overtaking, almost always scoring points despite his poor quali and starting position. He was scared that overtaking his bright yellow Invicta wouldn’t even be a challenge to the Campos driver, immediately imagining him overtaking so easily, and then speaking to the media about that action like it was just obvious to happen. He imagined the smirk Nikola would probably have when any other driver would congratulate him on regaining the championship lead, snatching it out of Rafael’s hands.
This aggression made Rafael desperate for the race win on Sunday. He didn’t care about the sprint race, which was always a boring shitshow for the worse drivers to show off. He hoped to score some points, maybe one or two, but without anything drastic to not damage the car.
The sprint finished with one point to his name, and two points for Tsolov. Amazing, truly amazing. He was still six points ahead of him, but if he managed to snatch first place and the fastest lap from the Brazilian driver, the dreams of becoming the F2 champion would be over for Rafa.
When the race finished, Rafael ran as fast as he could to avoid any small talk, any comments about the championship, to avoid every journalist possibly asking him for tomorrow’s strategy. The fucking strategy was to drive and score all the points possible, end of discussion.
Midnight. Rafael headed to bed, to have a good rest before a really important race. He checks his phone one last time, to turn off the notifications for the night. He sees a message, from guess fucking who, not even reading it. God, he annoys Camara so much. Tsolov probably knows how furious Rafael is, how bad he wants to sleep and then sweat his ass off defending from the Campos driver.
@ nikolatsolov
Break ur leg tmrw:p
@ rafaelcamara
Break your jaw and never speak to me again.
Ever.
@ nikolatsolov
Chill i just wanted to talk
Maybe give you some advice
Watch your back, baby
< @ rafaelcamara just blocked you >
He knows exactly what he is doing, and that makes Rafael want to smash his phone screen. Irritating him, to be out of focus, and then let Tsolov through on the opening lap. Absolutely fucking not.
—---------------------------------
A wet race was a myth this season. Having raced in countries where rain was normal, there wasn’t a single race where they used inters. Kind of a shame, really, because the wet races are always fun for the fans to watch, and fun for the drivers, hoping for a lot of action.
The F2 drivers were used to not trust the weather reports, because if they did, they would have at least three full wet races in this season. They knew the forecasts were almost always exaggerated, and the storm they promised was often a small rain that stopped in five to ten minutes.
Going into the last race week before the long break, they knew the forecast promised heavy rain during the feature race, but most of the drivers didn’t focus on that. The teams also didn’t trust that either, promising soft tyres, mediums and hards to be used on that session.
Thirty minutes before the race was supposed to start, it actually started raining. Heavily. So heavily that the race control postponed the formation lap immediately, not announcing the actual hour the race would start.
When they waited for any news, any announcement, when they could start getting ready, most of the young drivers talked to their teammates, other drivers, their engineers, or just used that time to sit in silence and focus on the possibility of the first wet race. Rafael’s teammate got involved in some gossip with Noel, Martinius and Dino, Alex was sitting with his team, probably talking about strategy, and Nikola just sat on the grass, even though it was cold and rainy. That made Rafa confused. Was he trying to look nonchalant, and getting ready for tiktok edits making him look super tough and cool, or was he just like that.
“You’re weird” says Rafael, walking towards Nikola.
“Can you go away? Im focusing”
“On what? The race didn’t even start, dumbass, what are you focusing on?” asks the Invicta driver, irritated because of the way Nikola answered.
“Mate, i’m just stressed. Get out” Nikola sounds really upset, scared even. That makes Rafael worried. Even though they hated each other, insulted and sometimes even beat each other, they also had a lot of good moments together. The first time Rafa won in F2, Nikola was the first person to congratulate him, to post on his story, being proud of the Brazilian. One time Rafa DNF’ed, Nikola came to hug him and calm him down.
Those moments were rare, of course, because it wasn’t super normal to hug your rival when he DNF’s, instead of celebrating that.
“God, don’t be. All of them are so bad you won’t have to actually race anyone. Except for me” Rafael smiles slightly, looking at Nikola in his eyes. That makes the Campos driver lighten up.
“So you’re calling me a good driver, aren’t you?” asks the Bulgarian, making Rafael roll his eyes.
“I’m not. Come back to focusing” Rafael sighs, walking back to his engineer.
After an hour of waiting for any sort of information, the race control finally confirmed the time they would start. The prediction was one formation lap with a safety car, and then a full race, with full points available. Rafael was super excited, he loved wet races, especially starting from pole, where he could just drive through clean air, not caring about someone in front. He felt great too, after a short chat with Tsolov. Even though yesterday he hoped for his DNF, he was quite content that he made Nikola smile.
The race started. Some cars, probably AIX or Trident, slipped so badly, they lost ten or even more positions. Too bad for them. Rafael had a start of his life, defending from Nikola and Kush, who started second.
The wet conditions made the start super slippery, but as the track was fastly drying, the race wasn’t some bullshit on wheels. It was real racing. A lot of overtakes in the midfield, some driver starting from P20 managed to get through P7. It was amazing, and truly the best scenario for the Brazilian, who has not lost a single position, building a gap to Maini from the first lap. Just driving, making faster and faster sectors, resulting in having the fastest lap of the race.
The pitstop was also good. He came in the pit, got his tyres changed, and still held on to the first position. Unlike some drivers, who got such slow stops, they lost more and more positions, making the race even weirder and even more chaotic.
Rafael thought he did the majority of the job, and it was only a matter of time, when he would stand on the first step of the podium, hearing the Brazilian national anthem. He was there with his mind, imagining how many points he would score, and how happy the team would be. Even though Rafael doesn’t really show his emotion, like other drivers, who hug their engineers. He just smiles, shaking their hands, showing them he is grateful for the result.
Because of the daydreaming, Rafael didn’t really see, when the redbull livery started showing in his mirrors. After his pitstop, Nikola found such great pace, he overtook Kush with ease, not even fighting. Now he was cutting seconds from Rafael’s time, taking the fastest lap of the race.
“Tsolov 1.2 seconds behind. Push and try to defend” hears Rafael on his radio. Of course. The race couldn’t just end without the unnecessary fight. Now Rafael regrets the words he said to Nikola before the race. He could’ve just fucking kick him to make him stay away from his car.
And Rafa tries. He really tries to push more and more, but his soft tires are giving up slowly. He used them already, so should Nikola. But the Bulgarian shows his best ever pace, getting close enough to the Invicta car to use the DRS.
“Tsolov 0.6 seconds, lap 17. Can you do more?”
“I’m doing the best I can for fucks sake!” shouts the Brazilian, seeing the Campos livery getting closer and closer in his mirrors.
Rafael wants it to end. He feels so stressed, so much pressure on him he can barely breathe. If he doesn’t defend and just lets Nikola have the P1, he would receive so much backlash, calling him not ready for F1 if he can’t even defend. If he does, he will destroy his tyres just before the end of the race, probably resulting in a puncture.
He decides to do everything he can to stay at first. Not just because the points are crucial for the championship, but also because he knows he can’t look at Nikola’s smug smile, whilst he is talking about that amazing overtake. Soon enough, he sees Nikola trying to make a move on him, probably fuming, that he has much more pace, but Camara is still defending. It works for half a lap. Tsolov moving, Camara defending, which results in Nikola losing tenths of a second.
But on the second part of the lap, Rafael goes wide. So wide it results in Nikola getting really, really close. When they get to one of the turns, Tsolov tries to overtake, and Rafael decides to fuck it. He goes wide again, but this time the Campos car is on his outside, which results in Nikola almost going into the gravel.
“Mate, this is a clear penalty for Camara!” shouts Nikola through his radio, losing some more time, whilst Rafael is trying to get as far as he can.
“We’re checking, but it was a legal move I’m afraid” answers the engineer, which makes the Campos driver even more irritated.
“Obviously, they just don’t want to give him a penalty for fucks sake! It was dangerous”
But the pace Nikola has makes him close to Rafael once again. He gets within the DRS range quickly, seeing the rear of the bright yellow car. It starts raining again. Not the heavy rain this time, just slow, small drops, making the race probably even more weird and chaotic. This doesn’t force Tsolov to stop, no.
He knows he is getting closer, when he sees the lights of the car in front of him. Rafael knows it too, but he knows he can’t do a move that risky once again. He just quietly prays, trying to push more and more, but the tyre is practically dead. He is lucky that he still drives with an acceptable pace.
The rain gets heavier, but no information from the race control about possible stop of the session. They probably know that the race is not going to be long, and those cars can survive three laps in some rain. Nikola doesn’t really see anything because of the spray Rafael’s car makes. But he knows Rafa is close and that's what matters to him.
He decides to make a move. A risky, bold move to overtake Rafael. But he doesn’t brake fast enough. Nikola overtakes, but slips and pushes the Invicta car. He tries to save the situation, but it's too late. His own car spins, making him finish into the gravel. The Campos car looks alright, on the first sight. Just some damage on the back, nothing really drastic. His rival's car in a way worse situation. Broken front wing, back. The right side of the bright yellow car looking like he just smashed into someone without thinking.
The damage on Rafael’s car makes Nikola worried. It looks serious. When Tsolov gets out of his car, he wants to check on his rival. He walks towards him, taking off his helmet. He doesn’t really know why he did that. He feels so incredibly sorry, so angry at himself, thinking Rafael is just maybe a little bit upset, as always. Camara was the wise one. He never shouted in public, never let his anger be seen. That’s why Nikola thinks he will react the exact same way.
“Are you okay? I’m sorry i didn’t see-”
“Shut the fuck up” answers Rafael, getting out of his car, furious. He takes off his helmet, looking at Nikola with so much anger in his eyes, the Bulgarian has never seen him like that.
“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t see you. It was raining heavily, I was trying to make a clear move”
“I don’t care. You just DNFed both of us” the Brazilian’s voice breaking. He is crying. The always nonchalant, never showing emotions other than happiness was crying, publicly. At least three cameras are showing this exact moment right now, but Rafael probably doesn’t really care about that. He covers his eyes with his hand, trying to hide it, but he was crying so much it didn't help.
“Rafa, calm down it wasn’t that-” but he stops talking. He knows it’s not going to do much. The other driver looks absolutely broken, disappointed and furious, and Nikola would do anything in the world to skip this embarrassing moment.
“It wasn't? You never fucking think Tsolov, that’s your fucking problem” and the always nonshalant driver now swears. This race can’t get even weirder. “Blame it on the rain, the track, car, or fucking engineer for what I care. Its your fucking fault. Because you’re talentless, egomaniac and narcissistic and only care about yourself, your results and your car and that makes you able to crash into anyone who makes your task difficult”
“And you? You almost pushed me into the gravel earlier! That was a clear move for you?”
“Yes, because it wasn’t fucking penalised. You crashed my car, you made me lose any respect I had for you. Just stop fucking talking” Rafael steps out, waiting for someone to help them get out.
The rain, the debris on the track and so much drama forced the race to stop. When Rafael was coming back to the pits, he couldn’t stop fuming. He looked an absolute mess, his hair wet from the rain, his face red, from crying earlier and from being absolutely furious. He just wanted to return to the hotel as soon as possible and probably destroy something out of anger. He has never felt that way. So much anger, disappointment and betrayal. He blamed himself. He knew that if he did something differently, the race wouldn’t finish that way. He blamed Nikola too, obviously. His reckless decision, his dumb move, and his dumb excuses.
After a short talk with the Invicta engineers that showed him support, but also scolded for the move on lap 17, Rafael goes back to his hotel. Alone, furious, devastated.
The race resumed. Dino, who started tenth won, then was Kush and Joshua.
—---------------------------
At nine pm, he hears a knock at the door. He wants to think it's probably room service, his teammate, his engineer, or anyone else who is not Nikola Tsolov, the man responsible for the worst mood he had in a long time. Obviously, he is wrong. When the Brazilian opens the door, he sees Nikola. He is blushing, his hair a mess, and he is wearing ridiculously short shorts. Rafael isn’t any better, though. His eyes are puffy, his hair still a little bit wet.
“Rafa, I want to apologise, really. I’m sorry I truly a-” even though Nikola sounds genuine, sad and maybe responsible for everything (which is true), Rafael doesn’t care.
“Okay. I’m closing the door now”
“What do you want me to say? I am sorry, I’m so sorry i feel so bad”
“Good, you should. I’m closing the door, Niko”
But Nikola doesn’t step away. He doesn’t roll his eyes and go back from where he arrived. He comes into Rafael’s room, closing the door himself. He pushes the Brazilian to the wall, furious.
“Fuck, what do you really want me to do?! I didn’t want us both to DNF. I didn't slam into you on purpose, It was a fucking mistake” the angriness from the Bulgarian, makes Rafael shake in fear. He obviously saw him in that state before, but now he seems scarier. “Stop being a fucking bitch whining about that. Yes, you DNFed, yes you didn’t score, so did I”
“People making mistakes like these shouldn’t be allowed to drive at all, especially in the racing car. You’re dangerous. Dangerously fucking stupid” answers the Invicta driver, being pissed off himself. He knows that Nikola probably assumed Rafa would just shrug and forget about it. He won’t.
“We’re not racing in f1 for fucks sake! You do mistakes aswell, so stop fucking crying and just forget” Nikola puts his one hand on Rafael’s chin, to force him to make an eye contact. Nikola’s eyes are furious, flaming with anger. That makes the Brazilian get scared even more, his breath getting more and more nervous.
“I’m not obligated to forgive you. I can be mad for as long as I want, and call you stupid, dangerous whenever I’d like. Stop forcing me to do so or I will scream so loud this whole hotel will think you’re murdering me”
Those words, that atmosphere, the situation, that happened just a few hours ago, the tension and everything happening makes Nikola just give up and kiss the man in front of him. He wants to shut Rafael up, and it's the only way he knows that doesn’t involve punching him or slapping. He kisses his rival, using his second hand to force him to stay in that exact place.
At first, Rafael doesn’t kiss him back. He probably thinks that he is being rebellious, showing how much he hates Nikola, but he gives in. He kisses the Bulgarian back soon enough, and that makes Nikola deepen the kiss, making it more desperate, more fuming with hate.
When Nikola kisses Rafa, he feels how wet his cheeks are. The Brazilian is probably still crying, or was crying earlier. That should probably make Nikola sad, blame himself even more. But he can’t help the thought that it is really fucking hot.
“Will you forgive me?” asks Nikola, right after the kiss ends.
“Maybe I will, but obviously not after that. You need to do something else”
“Like what?”
“Like..” Rafael thinks, looking at Nikola with a smug smile. “On your knees, Niko”