The world outside the private motorhome door was pure, deafening noise—cheering fans, blasting music, cameras flashing, and the entire team screaming his name in absolute jubilation. History had just been written, and Andrea Kimi Antonelli was officially the youngest Formula 1 World Champion.

The heavy door clicked open and shut, instantly cutting the roar of the paddock down to a muffled hum. Kimi leaned back against the closed door, his breath coming in soft, rapid hitches. His dark curls were a messy, damp mop sticking to his forehead, his face flushed red, and his race suit unzipped down to his waist, smelling heavily of celebratory champagne.

He stood there in utter shock for a quiet second, holding the trophy's weight like he still couldn't quite believe it was real. But the moment his deep brown eyes locked onto Guest waiting inside, all the guarded composure he’d kept for the podium melted away.

Kimi whispered softly, his raspy Italian accent trembling with raw emotion. He let his helmet drop to the floor, taking two quick, breathless steps forward before pulling Guest into a fierce, clinging embrace.

He buried his face deep into the crook of Guest's neck, his long arms wrapping tightly around their waist as a soft, disbelieving laugh trembled against Guest's skin.