For As Long As We Both Shall Live | LN⁴

1

TW: this chapter contains a scene of crash

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The height of the racing season had arrived in Monaco. The azure skies perfectly mirrored the tranquil waters of the Mediterranean, adding a touch of serenity to the vibrant atmosphere. The air was thick with excitement and the scent of high-octane fuel. Spectators wearing their finest attire adorned the streets, mingling with racers and mechanics. The atmosphere crackled with an electric energy, a symphony of engines revving in synchronized harmony.

As the sun cast its golden glow over the sleek, polished cars lining the starting grid, the anticipation reached a crescendo. The drivers, their faces masked with determined focus, adjusted their gloves and secured their helmets tightly. Each one had his own story, his own quest for victory.

On pole position was home favorite, Charles Leclerc, his heart pounding in his chest as he gripped the steering wheel of his bright red Ferrari, his hands steady despite the nerves coursing through his veins. The young Monegasque driver, hailed as a rising star in the world of motorsport, exuded confidence as he surveyed the track before him, relishing in the pressure that came with representing his nation on home soil. This was his moment to shine, to prove himself on the grandest stage of all.

Beside him sat Lando Norris in his sleek McLaren, the engine humming beneath him. As the final seconds ticked away, he took a deep breath, his focus narrowing to a razor-sharp point. The young driver had dreamt of this very moment since he first laid eyes on a Formula One race as a wide-eyed child. He was intent on making a name for himself, to prove that he belonged among the elite drivers of the world.

On the second row was Alpine's Pierre Gasly with Mercedes's George Russell.

The crowd erupted into cheers and applause as the signal was given for the formation lap to begin. The engines burst into action, creating a deafening chorus that filled the air. Charles guided his car out onto the track, feeling the cool breeze brush against his face. As they approached the famous hairpin bend, Charles caught a glimpse of Lando Norris in his rearview mirror. The young McLaren driver seemed determined, focused, ready to challenge him for the lead. It was a sight that both thrilled and unnerved Charles, knowing that Lando possessed immense talent, and his hunger for success was evident.

In his peripheral vision, Charles caught a glimpse of Pierre Gasly in the Alpine. The Frenchman's eyes bore a committed glint, and Charles knew that he would also be a formidable competitor. Gasly's skills were not to be underestimated, and every fiber of Charles' being urged him to keep a close eye on the Alpine driver.

As they approached the starting grid for the final time, Charles stole one last look at Lando Norris. The young Brit had an intensity in his eyes that matched Charles' own intent. It was clear that Norris was ready to seize any opportunity that presented itself, to push himself beyond his limits and claim victory.

"Ladies and gentlemen, get ready for a race like no other! The Monaco Grand Prix is about to commence!" The familiar voice of the commentator resonated through the speakers, amplified by the excitement of the throng.

The grid fell into a hushed silence as each driver focused their mind, body, and spirit on the upcoming battle. The seconds felt like hours as anticipation hung thick in the air. Then, in a fraction of a heartbeat, the red lights illuminated, one by one, and the engines thundered to life.

"It's lights out and away we go..."

The moment the lights extinguished, Charles stomped on the accelerator, propelling his car forward like a bullet from a gun. The roaring horde burst into very loud cheers as the pack of cars jostled for position.