𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐀 𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒 ༄ 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯

𝐨𝐛𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝗅. 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗅𝗅

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 // profanity, alcohol
𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 // anon
• 𝘪'𝘷𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘪'𝘥 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵, 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘩𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘸

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

Lance Stroll was a dickhead. So you thought anyway. Everything about him irked you to your core, from the way he spoke to his driving style on track; it all seemed to get on your nerves. All you wished to do was ram your head into a brick wall when he was around. Or better yet, ram his head into a brick wall.

You hadn't bothered to be civil with him while on the grid, and your team principal decided that he's had enough and is practically forcing you two to try and be friends. He claims it sends a 'bad image' and it's 'down-putting' for the team. After a year already of being teammates, there was no friendliness between you.

You were on your way to a house of sorts, to spend the weekend together in hopes of forming a better relationship for the coming season. An email was sent to you, but you skimmed through it and took in the major points, the biggest being that you would have to stay the whole weekend there. The thought of a full weekend with him made you want to jump off the edge of the mountain you were now being driven up.

The drive was shorter than you had been told, as the snow they had expected hadn't come, making it easier for the driver to manage the car without clouds of white in his eyesight. You were making your way up the meandering driveway while trying to catch a glimpse of where you'd be staying but you couldn't. It was blocked by trees and shrubbery, and large boulders all enwrapped in a layer of thawing snow.

The car began to slow and you finally saw what had been awaiting you. It was huge, much bigger than you had anticipated. With large windows and dark wooden panelling, it stood stark against the silver and snowy mountains. It seemed they didn't hold back on anything, and with the area it was located — a pricey location right by the hills — you knew it must've cost a fortune. It made the situation a little better, knowing you would be staying here.

"Right here we are," your driver said as the car came to a halt in front of the entrance. He got out of his side to grab your luggage from the trunk, while you took everything you had with you in the backseat and came out yourself.

Right when you opened the door the cold hit you; down at your hotel it was much warmer and you didn't think you'd need any jumper of sorts. The door was a few metres off you, but the chill still nipped your bare skin.

"Thank you so much," you thanked the driver with a smile as he handed you your suitcase. It was relatively small, you're staying for the weekend and would be inside for the most part you thought, so you didn't pack much.

"No problem, enjoy your stay."

He shut the trunk and went back into his dark vehicle, driving off down the long road that had led you up here. You turned to the house and took your bags in hand and walked towards the roofed alcove.

While under it you reached for the cold brass handle of the door, trying to twist it to open. Nothing happened, and the wooden door just rattled lightly. You peeked through the little window at the top, seeing lights on. You weren't given any key, it seems they gave it to Lance instead. You weren't sure why, thinking you were the more responsible one.