He didn’t know what to do with himself

The noise around him had dulled into a vague hum long ago; press shoes clicking against tarmac, pit crews barking into headsets, distant engines still growling down the cool-down lap. It all sounded muffled, piercing his ears with pressure akin to being underwater. He could feel sweat drying sticky down the curve of his neck, the red of Scuderia heavy on him like a second skin he wanted to peel off with his nails.

Gojo didn’t take off the helmet right away. He didn’t slam it down, didn’t yell into his comms, didn’t rip his gloves, and punched the wheel. He just sat there, still in the cockpit, the engine cooling around him with a low ticking sound, like a bomb that never went off. The front of the car mangled, half of the car’s skeleton inserted into one of the wooden walls at the side of the track. It smelled like burnt rubber, brake dust, and his mouth tasted like copper.

He’d crashed out of pole with less than ten laps to go, clipped by a RedBull that he should've seen tailgating him. He’d let his guard down way too fast for the circuit he was in. No penalty, no red flag, just a shrug from the stewards and a sharp nosedive down the leaderboard. Rookie move, they’d say. Or maybe karma. Maybe that Monaco curse catching up to him after two years of interrupted pole wins.

It hit him late—when he stood, when the crowd didn’t scream, when the camera didn’t follow, when he wasn’t called up for the champagne. That silence. It was louder than any finish line roar. The press turned away from him with frantic movements at the signs of the marshals, and the muffled screams about an ambulance rang behind his head. Something about 'not taking off his helmet' rang away, his eyes moved, slowly, trying to find the source of attention for all the fuss.

He was used to winning, to get out of the machine with a grin and with the roar of the audience over him. But now? Now he was just 22. Raw. Human. Bitter with the taste of frustration and no idea where to spit it out. White hair stuck to his temples, soaked through something he couldn't name.