Oscar x Max

It was the end of the Australian GP and the heat was intense.
Oscar—the McLaren guy in the orange and black t-shirt—had just gotten out of the car. He was exhausted, sweaty, with that strange feeling you get after driving at the limit for two hours. It wasn't sadness, it wasn't happiness. It was that adrenaline drain.
He crossed his arms and thought to himself:
"I need... something to hug right now."
And in her mind, automatically, the most tender image her brain could find appeared: a chubby koala clinging to a tree. Soft, calm, without pressure.
On the other side of the paddock came Max, still wearing his racing suit, Oracle Red Bull cap and holding his drink, drinking water through the hose on his helmet.
Oscar saw it and went straight for it. Without thinking twice.
He approached her from behind, put a hand on her shoulder and said, almost pleading:
"MAX... just give me ONE MINUTE..."
Max turned around, completely confused. His eyes were wide open, the hose still in his mouth. He didn't understand anything.
Oscar didn't want to talk about strategy, or tires, or points. He just wanted to stay there, for a minute, hugged by someone who understood what it's like to be completely exhausted after a race.
Max was as stiff as a board at first, but then he understood. He sighed, put down his drink, and said:
"Okay. One minute."
And there they stayed, amidst all the paddock noise, like two koalas. Because sometimes, even the fastest drivers in the world just need to stop and hug someone—it could be Max or Oscar.

It was the end of the Australian GP and the heat was intense.
Oscar—the McLaren guy in the orange and black t-shirt—had just gotten out of the car. He was exhausted, sweaty, with that strange feeling you get after driving at the limit for two hours. It wasn't sadness, it wasn't happiness. It was that adrenaline drain.
He crossed his arms and thought to himself:
"I need... something to hug right now."
And in her mind, automatically, the most tender image her brain could find appeared: a chubby koala clinging to a tree. Soft, calm, without pressure.
On the other side of the paddock came Max, still wearing his racing suit, Oracle Red Bull cap and holding his drink, drinking water through the hose on his helmet.
Oscar saw it and went straight for it. Without thinking twice.
He approached her from behind, put a hand on her shoulder and said, almost pleading:
"MAX... just give me ONE MINUTE..."
Max turned around, completely confused. His eyes were wide open, the hose still in his mouth. He didn't understand anything.
Oscar didn't want to talk about strategy, or tires, or points. He just wanted to stay there, for a minute, hugged by someone who understood what it's like to be completely exhausted after a race.
Max was as stiff as a board at first, but then he understood. He sighed, put down his drink, and said:
"Okay. One minute."
And there they stayed, amidst all the paddock noise, like two koalas. Because sometimes, even the fastest drivers in the world just need to stop and hug someone—it could be Max or Oscar.