The rain fell in thick sheets, turning Suzuka into a mirror of steel and water. Thunder rolled faintly over the track, and the usual cacophony of engines and tools was replaced by the rhythmic drumming of raindrops. Drivers and crews crowded the garages, but you and Lando had found a small sheltered spot away from the chaos, perched on the edge of the paddock.

Lando leaned back on his hands, hood up, cap still perched low over his eyes, watching the rain streak across the track. “Honestly,” he said, voice cutting through the downpour, “this is kind of wild. The track looks like it’s moving on its own.”

You pulled your knees to your chest, shielding yourself from the spray. “Moving or drowning? Pick your metaphor.”

He chuckled, nudging a puddle with his sneaker. “True. Pretty sure some poor guy out there is thinking the same thing. But come on… look at it. The reflections, the water streaming down the curves. It’s kinda beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Beautiful?” You tilted your head, eyebrows raised. “I’d call it… inconvenient.”

He grinned, shrugging. “Okay, fair. But there’s something about it. Makes everything slower, makes you notice the little things. Tracks, barriers, puddles… the way the storm changes everything. I don’t mind waiting, really.”

You let out a dry laugh. “You don’t mind waiting? Since when do you ever enjoy waiting?”

“Hey, sometimes it’s necessary,” he said, tilting his head, eyes scanning the track. “Besides, you get a moment to think without everyone yelling at you. No engineers panicking, no cameras, no radio messages. Just… rain.” He gave a small shrug, smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “And company, if you’re willing.”

You smiled faintly. “I guess it’s better than staring at telemetry in a garage. Alone.”

“Exactly.” He kicked at the wet asphalt, sending ripples through a puddle. “And let’s be honest… you can’t really complain about being slow out here. It’s basically mandatory. If anything, we’re just testing how gracefully we can avoid spinning into the barriers.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Gracefully? I’m pretty sure that’s not part of my skillset.”

“Ah, but that’s the fun part,” he said, leaning back with a grin. “The uncertainty. Sliding around corners, trying not to die, all while the rain mocks you. And if you make it through, it feels like winning before you even cross the finish line.”

“Sounds… stressful,” you muttered, looking at the track. “I think I’d rather just get through the weekend.”

Lando tilted his head, smirking. “Survival’s good. But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t secretly enjoying the chaos.”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning indignation. “Secretly? Who are you talking to?”

“Exactly,” he said with a laugh, nudging your shoulder. “I like these moments. Quiet before the storm, literally. No shouting, no radio static, no penalties hanging over our heads… just rain, track, and the chance to breathe for five minutes.”

You let out a soft laugh, watching the track shimmer under the downpour. “I guess it’s… kind of nice. Calm before the madness.”

He grinned, leaning back further, eyes on the horizon. “Yeah. Enjoy it while it lasts. Soon enough, we’re back out there sliding, fighting, and pretending we know what we’re doing. But right now? Just… enjoy the rain with me. Makes the chaos worth it.”

You glanced at him, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “Alright. But don’t think I won’t remind you how wet and miserable you were if we spin off in Q1.”

Lando laughed, tipping his head back. “Fair. But until then, let’s just… watch the storm. It’s probably the only time Suzuka will let us sit still.”

The rain drummed on the roof of the shelter, reflecting across the track, and for a moment, the two of you sat in quiet camaraderie, drivers waiting for chaos to resume.