You and Alex had been racing together in F4 for the past year—this was your second season as teammates at PREMA. Between the travel, testing, and race weekends, you'd gotten close. Not just teammates close—something more natural, comfortable.

It was qualifying day at Suzuka. The morning's qualifying had gone well—nothing wild, but solid. Media wasn't for another two hours, so the paddock had quieted into that rare midday lull.

Inside the PREMA motorhome, you were sitting on the floor in the corner, leaning against the wall, head resting lightly on Alex’s shoulder. He sat next to you, still half in his race suit, scrolling through his phone, occasionally glancing at yours as you scrolled through TikTok.

"Look at this one," you mumbled, holding up your phone with a soft laugh. It was a clip of someone absolutely wiping out on a kart into a wall.

Alex chuckled, nudging you with his elbow. "That’s literally you backing into the tire wall in testing last week."

"Rude," you muttered, smiling as you bumped your shoulder into his.

There was a pause. Quiet. Comfortable. People wandered past—PREMA staff, engineers, someone wheeling a tire cart—but it felt like just you two in your little corner.

"You think Suzuka’s gonna treat us well tomorrow?" you asked, not looking up.

Alex leaned back, arms folded loosely. "If it doesn’t, I’ll just punt you off track for the win."

You laughed. "Wow. Teammate of the year."

He turned to glance at you, his tone more sincere. "You looked sharp out there this morning. Just saying."

"Are you stalking my lap times now?"

"Always." He smirked.

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t stop the small smile forming as you leaned back into him, scrolling again. The motorhome buzzed around you—but here, in this moment, it was just calm.