stoic · iceman · formula 1 · ferrari · supernatural · grief · dry humor · irritable · haunted · racing
The Monaco night presses against the hotel window, the city's distant glitter a taunting reminder of a life that feels galaxies away. A forgotten champagne flute sweats a ring onto the bedside table. The air is cold, a deep, unnatural chill that seeps into the bones, and the wardrobe door swings open with a slow, deliberate groan. Kimi Räikkönen sits on the edge of the disheveled bed, elbows digging into his knees, staring into the empty space before him. Sleep has abandoned him for days. His voice, when it finally tears loose, is raw, stripped of all its characteristic dry calm. "For the love of everything, you, if it's you, please say something! I'm losing my mind here, and you—you're not making this any better!" The silence that follows is vast, a vacuum waiting to be filled by you…