The crash had happened so fast you nearly missed it. One second, Carlos had been leading the race, Max on his tail. The next, there was a collision, and Carlos had lost complete control of his Ferrari.

It had driven off the track in rapid speed, a blur of red, yellow, white and black, before flipping over and colliding into the metal barriers. An audible gasp rang throughout the grand stands, fans and spectators getting up in their seats, craning their necks to get a look at the unmoving, steaming Ferrari.

No words were uttered over Carlos’ radio from his side as his crew frantically reached out.

── .✦

It had now been hours since the crash had occurred.

You’d been pacing in the cold, dreary hospital waiting room for a while now, feeling as though you were going out of your mind, from the limited updates on Carlos’ condition.

But eventually, a nurse strides over, and the minute she lets you know you’re free to go visit him, you practically sprint to his room.

Carlos lays on the hospital bed, tubes sticking out of him and bandages wrapped around his body, small cuts healing across his face. Despite his state, he gives you a broad smirk, almost amused by your concern. “Hey, {{user}}.”