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Friday

Charles jerked awake suddenly, staring into the emptiness of the hotel room. The white walls of the room seemed to be closing in on him.

Soon after he was at the track, waiting for FP1 to begin. He didn't tell anyone about the dream yet and in the end had decided to keep it that way. Andrea would ask him to explain it, his family would get worried on why he was calling them so early and his friends would only worry. He didn't want to burden anyone today, especially since it was the first Free Practice session of the year. Everyone in the paddock was focusing on themselves, and the last thing they needed was Charles wasting their time because of a stupid nightmare he had, while they were supposed to be debriefing with their teams. 

I am so sorry for just leaving you without saying anything yesterday. I had an early morning flight and you looked really tired last night, so I decided it was best if I didn't wake you. I hope you feel better now. Remember, you can always tell me everything. I will see you soon.

Max:)

After a two week break from racing, it felt good to be back. As emotional of a weekend Suzuka had always been for Charles, every new race weekend brought with it new hope. Maybe this could be their week after all. Maybe he could win this wretched Grand Prix after all. 

11 years ago, a disaster struck the circuit of Suzuka. Rain was falling throughout the whole Grand Prix, and even the most experienced drivers were complaining about the lack of grip on track. On lap 41, a driver lost control of his car, smashing into a crane that was hauling another crashed car off the track. 

But it wasn't just any car or any driver. To Charles, it was a person who had helped him during his early racing days. His Godfather, Jules Bianchi died 9 months later from the fatal wounds of the crash.

Arriving at the track the day before, was... nostalgic. Not in a good way, but in probably the worst way possible. The memory of his funeral played on repeat in his head. All the good times he spent with Jules at karting tracks, and the day that his father came over to him to tell him about the crash. It all flooded his mind completely. For once, he was actually grateful for all the journalists that

wanted to ask him all the questions in the world, as it gave him something else to focus on.

_____

Both Free Practices practically flew by, in which Charles finished around half a second off the top McLaren. Once back in his hotel room, he decided to call Carlos. He wanted to tell him about the events of the night of the Chinese Grand Prix, to see if he thought it was a simple friendly gesture or something more. Carlos had said to him that if he needs anyone to talk to, he should just call, right?

To his relief, Carlos picked up quickly.

"Hola, Lord Perceval, is all ok?"

"Yes, yes, everything is fine, but can I ask your opinion on something?"

"Sure, of course. Go on..."

Charles paused for a second, unsure of continuing, but after giving it a bit of thought, he figured that if he was to tell anyone, it would probably be Carlos anyway.

"Don't worry, if you don't want to say it, you don't have to Charles."

"Ok, so... If you just get disqualified from a race, and a person that you may or may not have a crush on, knocks on your hotel room door and comforts you and hugs you and watches crappy shows with you, to make you feel better, then compliments you massively after you just spilled out all your problems to them... does that mean they could possibly like you?" Charles' voice got smaller and quieter as he spoke, his hands shaking nervously.

Carlos just laughed knowingly and asked. "And may I ask what makes you think otherwise?"

Charles was about to answer Carlos' question, but was stopped by sudden flashbacks of that night in Australia. He wasn't so convinced anymore. With every second, every question, he began to doubt what he wanted so desperately to be able to believe.

"Charles, are you still there?"

Slightly shaken, Charles shook his head in agreement. Wanting to hear Carlos' opinion first, he pressed.

"Answer my question first, then I will answer yours."

"Well, I really don't know what got to your head, because to me, it seems obvious enough. I have never seen or heard someone do that for another person, if they were just friends. Best friends, maybe. Lovers, more believable. Look Charles, a normal friend would just text you something like "how are you doing?" or ask if you need anything, maybe possibly allow you to rant to them over the phone. But barge into your hotel room and comfort you and hug you and complement you... that is not typical Max Verstappen behaviour, I am telling you. He wouldn't do that for any random person... I really don't understand what there is to doubt Charles."

"Do you want to know why I am doubting it?"

"If you are willing to share..." Charles could hear the smirk in Carlos' voice as he spoke.

"Can I maybe tell you another time? I... don't really know if I am ready to, right now..."

"Charles, I know something is up... but I won't force you to say anything. You can always reach out to me if you need anything."

"I know, thanks again Carlos."

"Ok then, I will see you tomorrow."

With that, they ended the call.

A surge of doubt flooded Charles' mind again. Talking to Carlos... it just wasn't the same. He didn't get that feeling of safety or comfort that he got talking to Max. He was so grateful to have a friend like Carlos, but it wasn't the same. He didn't think talking to anyone else could be the same.

 For a minute, he thought about explaining to Max what he went through in Australia. He knew what Max would do. Probably laugh at him or give him a dirty look. But the Max he thought he knew, wouldn't come over to his hotel room and comfort him in his misery. Maybe there was a new side to Max, or he was just so caught up in his own worries and high expectations that he had never noticed it. Or maybe, this was a side of Max only reserved for him? It was the least likely option, but it was the one Charles wanted to believe in most.

Saturday

Charles got up that morning, thoughts focused on the qualifying session ahead. His best Qualifying position so far this season was a P6 in China, which definitely wasn't something to be proud of. 

Having a few minutes before FP3, he took out his trusted notebook and started scribbling down everything that was on his mind. His frustration with the team for failing to provide a championship winning car for him once again. How he felt like the team was prioritising Lewis, even though according to his and Fred's agreement, he was to stay as the number 1 driver when Lewis arrived at the team. And how sometimes he failed to disconnect his personal life and feelings, from his professional career. 

Too many things have been passing through his mind recently. Too many. Especially at a track like this, already so heart-wrenching for him. It felt a little overwhelming at times, wanting to focus only on racing, but then having a bunch of unnecessary thoughts in your head. A team that's slowly letting you down, a championship you're dying to fight for...

As he wrote, a thought popped into his head. 

What if he just didn't care? What if he simply just did it all himself? If he wanted to win a championship, he had to work for it. And by working for it, he would prove to people that if he really wanted something, he was strong enough to do so. If he just did everything himself, telling the team what set-up he wanted, what strategy to do... In the end, how long can he go on making excuses, blaming bad results on 'bad luck' or his team. Blaming your mistakes or problems on other things, basically means that you can't step up to take responsibility for your own actions and decisions. No one will wait for you if you sit there rotting away in self-pity. 

Charles had two options really, either step up, take control and show Ferrari what he's worth, or do nothing, and keep on wondering why nothing ever goes his way. And as a man on a mission of trying to prove what he is actually capable of achieving in Formula 1, he chose the first option.

_____

Holy shit...

 If he was to have a crush on any guy, he definitely chose wisely. Max was absolutely terrific during Quali. His final fast lap was probably one of the best Qualifying laps Charles had ever seen. After watching the replay of it in his garage, he was nothing short of in awe of the man. Not only was he a phenomenal driver, but also a really kind soul and a person who never failed to amaze. Wow. He immediately got out his phone and texted Max.

Max❤️‍🩹

                                                                                                             Your Pole lap was absolutely unbelievable!! Congrats Mate🎉🎉

  Thank you Charlie:) All the best in the race tomorrow❤️

Charles felt a strange tingling in his stomach. 

Pride...

He was proud of Max Emilian Verstappen. His rival. The man he wanted so desperately to beat every single karting race when he was younger. The handsome as fuck man he was now so desperately in love with....

It was strange to him, new.  For as long as Charles had been in love with him, he didn't recall ever feeling like this towards the Dutchman. He had always congratulated him on wins, of course, but never felt the feeling of pride this deeply. 

And the text message, the nickname that was now kind of only reserved for Max, the red heart emoji. It felt nice. His own merely P4 finish, now shadowed by Max's epic achievement. 

On his own Quali, he finished in P4, about 3 tenths behind Max, but overall he felt like he did his absolute best. He struggled with some snaps of oversteer and understeer, but honestly it was all more positive then negative. That was good, looking at the fact that in both previous Quali sessions, the pace was absolutely nowhere to be seen. 

As he headed back to his room, he watched Max's fast lap once again, trying to imagine himself in his own F1 car, following the racing line Max took, centimetre by centimetre. He tried to figure out what Max did differently in his lap, compared to Charles'. He walked into the room, unbothered and tired by everything. He took a shower and changed into more comfortable clothes. Grabbing his phone, Charles pressed play onto one of his piano music playlists, to help him relax before the race. Not long after, he was sound asleep.

Sunday

Carlos came up to Charles at the beginning of the drivers parade.

"Hi, Carlos. What's up?"

"Nothing really, but I just wanted to make sure that you are alright. You seemed a bit off on Friday."

Charles sighed. "And who made you do this, can I ask? Lando or Alex?"

"No one. I swear Charles. I am just... concerned for you." Carlos smiled at his ex-teammate. The way that Carlos answered so abruptly made Charles even more suspicious. He got a feeling that either Lando or Alex dragged Carlos into this. That they were plotting something behind his back. Unsure, but wanting to find out what they could potentially want from him, he said.

"Ok, ok. I believe you. Sorry for that. But what do you mean that I looked a bit off on Friday?" he chose his words carefully, trying to seem as innocent as he could.

"Well, you mentioned doubting something, and it made you seem very upset."

Now Charles was positive this wasn't Carlos' idea. He knew that Carlos would just leave him alone, let him open up in his own time. Someone was forcing him to do this.

"Ohh, that thing. Yeah, it's not that relevant. I can't really say."

"You know that you can tell me anything, "

"I know Carlos, but would you want me to out someone by telling you this?"

Carlos looked very puzzled at what Charles said. "Who...who would you out by telling me?"

This is definitely not the Carlos Charles knew. "Are you aware that if I just tell you like that, I would still be outing those people?" He wanted Carlos to get more intrigued, to make him slip up, to see who was behind all of this.

"So... There is more than one person?"

Charles nodded, smirking to himself.

"Excuse me for a second Charles." And with that, Carlos walked away and started frantically typing something on his phone. As he hit send, Charles spotted three people pick up their phones. Lando, Alex and Yuki. Yuki quickly put it back in his pocket while the other two stood staring at their screens, a stunned look spreading on their faces. They quickly exchanged a glance, then looked at Carlos, who typed something else, which made them look away once again. Charles was more than convinced that they were using Carlos for information now. A smile spread on his face thinking of how silly they all were for not noticing him looking at their hilarious reactions. 

Another challenge to overcome, but this time it's a very entertaining one.

_____

The race itself was very... uneventful, to say the least. For the whole race, Charles was in a bit of a no-man's-land, with Oscar up too far ahead and George behind, not causing any potential threats. After maximising the potential of the car and not messing up the strategy, Charles was actually quite pleased with his race, until he was told they finished in P4. It was slightly disappointing for him and the team, that after everyone had done their part nearly perfectly, they still ended up in P4 and were 3 tenths off the top three cars in terms of speed. And having Lewis finish in P7 wasn't great either. So basically, it was one more wasted weekend, with a car that is still 3 or 4 tenths slower than the top three and was incapable of scoring a podium in normal circumstances. 

Fucking amazing.

After a short team debrief and a quick visit to his hotel room, Charles set out on a walk around the town of Nagoya, to refresh his mind. He sent a congratulatory message to Max, Oscar and Lando, before walking into a small park. The place was buzzing with excitement. It was packed with children climbing trees, reading books or playing hide and seek. He didn't mind the chaos. It actually felt nice to be in such a crowded place after such a lonely race. After a quick stretch, he began his run. 

He was only a few minutes in, when he spotted Alex walking up to him. Charles slowed down and took out his phone, pretending that he didn't see him. Alex didn't seem to care, instead he ran straight up to Charles.

"Charles! How are you?"

"Oh, I am great, thanks."

"So... I was just casually talking to Carlos after the race there, and he may or may not have mentioned you having some good gossip. Mind sharing?" This was nearly as suspicious as his conversation with Carlos earlier. 

"I can't really tell you, I would be outing someone if I did." Charles was curious to see how much Carlos had told Alex, and turns out he wasn't mistaken.  Alex asked exactly what he expected. 

"Carlos mentioned two people, if I remember correctly."

"I know, that is what I told him myself. But since you already know one of those people is out, it only leaves one that you don't know about."

"Who is it?"

Charles was prepared for this question. "You," He answered swiftly.

Alex was stunned for a minute. "How... do you know that I am gay?"

"Ohh" Charles laughed to himself. "If I told you this, I would be outing another person too."

Worried, Alex asked. "Does anyone else know... other than you?"

"Yes, one more person, but I believe that they wouldn't tell you anything if you asked, for the same reason as me."

"Who?"

Charles could either bring Max into this weird situation, which could lead to his questioning Charles on why he left the party so early, or he could not reveal who, giving Max the peace and quiet he deserved after a race win. First, he would have to see what was really going on and why he was being questioned, then he would get support and outsmart those gossip seeking dumbasses.

"I can't say, sorry"

"No, no, no. That's fine. Bye Charles"

And with that, Alex left once again typing something frantically on his phone.

"Some people really have nothing better to do," Charles mumbled to himself, laughing as he continued his on run.

The first thing Charles did when he woke up was open the windows of his hotel room. He struggled to sleep that night, with the air conditioning broken in his room. Fuck this shit, honestly. Why was it always him that got all the bad luck? Why did Lewis never get the broken hotel rooms, why did Lewis not get replaced for FP1? 

Questions like that swirled around in Charles' mind, reminding him with every minute of the crap season he had so far. The McLaren's pace was in another world compared to his Ferrari. He couldn't do anything about it. It frustrated him. He was supposed to be a World Champion this year. Now he is stuck behind a rookie in the championship standings. Fucking amazing.

Once he got to the Ferrari garage, he sat in a corner and pulled out his notebook. He was a very emotion driven person, which sometimes ended in unnecessary emotional outbursts. The notebook allowed him to spill out all the anger onto the pages, to avoid accidentally hurting others. Like shouting at Fred over the phone in China, or freezing when Carlos accidentally asked him about the events of Australia over the phone. Or even when Max came into his hotel room to comfort him after the Disqualification. 

But being an emotional person also had its pros. Whenever Charles did something fun or felt proud of himself, he felt double the emotions. Winning a race, getting pole position, being on the podium with Max. It all felt twice as special to him. 

Podium with Max....

He hadn't even spoken to him since China. Their last shared podium was in Qatar last year. He remembered feeling Max's firm grip on his waist as they took the podium picture. He remembered talking to Max after the race. He could still feel the warmth of his words when he congratulated Charles on his podium. The guy won the race! He had no reason to congratulate Charles on a podium when he was the race winner. But if Charles was to be honest, he was nearly 100% sure that Max had also congratulated Oscar for his P3 finish. Probably didn't mean anything, again.

With his earphones in, he couldn't hear the footsteps behind him. He sat in the corner of his garage, facing the wall. Someone placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it twice, but gently. Startled, Charles turned around abruptly to see a figure he was well familiar with. A person who visited his dreams and daydreams. Who was frequently mentioned in his notebook. His hands were shaking, with both stress and happiness. He could hear his heart beating in joy. He tried to act normal, but when you see someone you love, like Charles loved Max, it's near impossible. After a few minutes of looking at his greatest desire, with great struggle and self control, he finally managed to stumble out.

"...M..Max?"

"Charlie, schat, keep your voice down. I can't be seen here, in enemy territory." He winked.

"Why are you here then?" Charles still spoke quietly, his voice calmer and no longer shaking with every word. 

"We will be bored sitting here for the whole of FP1 doing nothing, so we may as well do something fun. Come on" Max put out his hand to help Charles get up.

"What about the team?"

"Charles, let me ask you an important question now. Do you really think that if you disappear for around an hour, they would come running after you? How long have you been sitting in the corner here, alone?"

Max had a point. He had been sitting in that corner for 30 minutes, without once being called over to help or analyse something.

"Fuck them. Let's get out of here." He reached out for Max's hand. Their hands fit perfectly together as Max pulled him up onto his feet.

"That's the spirit, Charlie. Come on."

Charles followed Max carefully, going through narrow passageways and gaps between buildings. His mind was spiraling again, this time with excitement and joy. But where you find excitement, you will always find worry. His mind went back to what Max said to him in a different language. Dutch probably. Schat, or something like that. Charles would bet that he had heard it before, but never said as majestically as Max just did. Whatever the meaning of the word was, he didn't care. It probably just meant friend or something like that. Not relevant to anything.

After a few minutes, the shadows of the tall paddock buildings made way for the scorching Bahraini sun. Max stopped walking, keeping in the shadows of the buildings and turned to Charles.

"Now keep close behind me, ok? We can't get caught."

Charles nodded and ran behind Max. They hid behind a bush, and waited.

"What are we doing now?" Charles asked, looking at Max with eyes full of excitement.

"Car park. Then you will see." Max smirked.

They watched Oscar walk out from behind a building, typing something on his phone. He had one eyebrow raised, looking puzzled. "Lando and his crazy ideas" He muttered under his breath as he walked past.

"Close call. Now let's go"

They got to the carpark with no further encounters. Max pointed towards a blue car. 

"This one. The team gave it to me for the race weekend."

"It's nice I guess."

"Not a Ferrari, huh." Max laughed. "Are you sure you won't get fined if I give you a lift in it?"

Charles rolled his eyes playfully and flipped Max off. He felt more comfortable around Max than anyone else. With him, he could really be the real Charles. But wanting Max as more than a good friend, and knowing he could never tell him that, made more shy and distant towards Max then any other driver.

He sat in the passenger's spot, watching Max slip effortlessly into the driver's seat. Throughout the drive, Charles' eyes never left Max. To his dismay, Max's eyes hadn't left the road either, which thinking back to now, probably was a good thing,since if they crashed and were caught, they would probably lose their jobs as well as the respect they both had in the world of motorsport. What they had worked towards for all of their lives. What they had given up their childhoods for. His thoughts wandered to that dreadful party in Australia all over again. Maybe Max had a point with what he said...

Suddenly Max took a sharp turn into a car park.

"Now will you tell me where we are going?" Charles asked.

"Nope! You will see for yourself soon enough." Max gazed into Charles' eyes with something more than just excitement. Tenderness, maybe, vulnerability, and some weird glint in his eye that Charles wasn't familiar with. A small shine in Max's eye. It was very pretty. But where it came from and the feelings associated with it were still a mystery to Charles. 

"You...you have pretty eyes, Max." He whispered softly, nearly to himself.

"Charlie, can you repeat that please, I couldn't hear you." Max smiled fondly. The car was parked in a parking space on the side of the car park. Max had his full attention on Charles.

"I... I just said that you have nice eyes..."

Max froze, looking oddly surprised. Charles knew he shouldn't have said that. Now Max probably thinks he's some sort of freak. He managed to say a quick 'sorry' before he buried his head in his knees. Tears started falling down his cheeks slowly. Fuck, why was he always like this?

Always so emotional, so stupid. Thinking that he isn't a total jerk. Why else would he have been given the hotel room with a broken AC system? Holy Shit...

A few seconds later, he felt a hand on his back, and a warm voice in his ear.

"Charlie...thank you so much for that compliment, it was so nice of you." Charles could hear the smile on Max's face as he spoke. He lifted his head slowly and looked Max in the eye.

"Then why did you freeze like that?" His eyes were red and he spoke quietly.

"Charlie, come over here." Max opened his arms out to let Charles sink into his chest. "I was just shocked that such a pretty person would want to compliment someone like me." He laughed softly.

Charles was happy to have known Max since they were young. Max knew him well, even if they were more like enemies then friends. Max knew how emotional Charles could get at times. Especially in 2014, after Jules' crash, Max had spotted a crying Charles sitting under a tree more than once. He had never asked why, but always sat down next to the upset Charles in silence. Charles remembered those days, some of the most difficult days in his life.

He wished that he had Max to comfort him like that in 2017. No words, just being there, sitting in silence. In a way, Charles was glad that Max was used to seeing him like this. Even if crying like that was pathetic, it felt better knowing that Max accepts him that way. 

Charles lifted his head up to look into Max's eyes again. The glint was still there, looking slightly more calming.

"Max, I think you are very pretty."

Max chuckled lightly.

"Max, I am also sorry for crying like this again. I am sorry if I am just being pathetic right now and I am sorry if I am overreacting again, or saying too much, but I just can't...."

"Schatje, don't be sorry. Look, I know how difficult getting to F1 was for you, mentally and physically. Remember, I was there, I witnessed it all. Every breakdown, every bad session or bad day. Even if I probably looked like I wanted to kill you back then, once I found out Charles, I watched all of your Junior Category races, believe me. I wanted you to do well, so we could race each other again. Just look at us now, good friends, just snuck out of the paddock since our new cars suck, and you expect me to judge you? Not how it works when you have known someone for your whole life Charlie. " He gestured towards somewhere outside. "Come on, we have places to be"

They both stepped out of the car, Charles walked over to Max.

"So, will I finally have the pleasure of knowing what we will be doing here?" His eyes were less red now, but his voice still had some remnants of the tears he cried earlier.

"I will give you a clue, it will bring you great memories," Max grinned and gestured to Charles to follow him.

_____

What emerged ahead was a very familiar sight, Multiple sets of go karts set up around them. Charles followed Max to kart number 16 and kart number 33. 

"Oh my God Max..." Charles chuckled.

"Worth the wait, huh?" 

"Shut up."

As they pulled on the karting helmets, Charles asked.

"Why 33 not 1?" 

"Just always liked 33 more. It's the original. You know."

Soon, both of them were in their assigned karts and not long after were racing aggressively on track.

It felt like they were in their early teen years all over again. Charles loved karting. It gave him that feeling of freedom and carelessness. It was probably where he had created his fondest, most beloved memories. It was the most racing based motorsport category, where you just raced, no media, no cameras in your face all the time, no paparazzi. 

He was so pleased that Max had decided to bring him along to this karting track. He loved karting, but he loved it even more when he could race against Max.

They exchanged the lead multiple times, the other always close behind, waiting for a mistake from their rival. Max was in the lead as they approached the last lap. Charles, with one desperate move, tried to overtake him. Instead, he slammed into the side of Max's kart. "Fuck..." he mumbled under his breath at the failed overtake.

But Max wasn't gonna let that side by. In the next corner, he did the same thing to Charles. He slowed a bit, pretending to have made a mistake, and when Charles lunged for the gap to pass him, he did exactly what Charles did to him. He rammed into Charles, smirking under his breath.

Charles was fuming. If Max was playing dirty, he would too. As they got closer to the finish line, the last corner, Charles hit into Max's kart, forcing him off the track. Max stopped his kart on the side of the track, Charles following his lead. Max pulled off his helmet, hair ruffled and sweaty.

"Post race Max" Charles thought, staring at him in awe. As Charles took off his helmet, Max ran up to him, looking like he wanted to kill Charles then and there. 

"Why did you do that, push me off like that?! It was so stupid of you !!" Max looked angry. The little glint in his eye was replaced with something else. Frustration.

"Maxy, come on. It was just an inchident." Charles looked at Max, hoping the old joke would settle his anger. The anger from his eyes slowly fading, bringing back the sparkling glint as Max reached out and ruffled Charles' hair. He pulled away suddenly.

"I am sorry Charles, is that ok?"

Charles nodded, smiling. They both bursted out laughing. 

"Inchident, huh?" Max rolled his eyes sarcastically. "I guess we're both naturals at wanting to murder our opponent."

They walked back to the car, smiling and bickering playfully. Charles checked his watch.

"What time is it, track menace?"

"3pm"

"Get in Charlie. We need to go back."

This time, the drive back was the opposite of the previous one. They shared many glances, and talked a lot. Once it was tire degradation or Qualifying, then it was Lando being annoying or fan fictions.

"Charles, have you ever read the ones about us?" He paused, as if he was thinking about the weight of the question, then  added "Like the F1 ones??"

Charles was startled by the question, not really knowing what to answer. Carlos told him to confess to Max, but this wasn't the way Charles wanted to do it. 

"I do sometimes, to see what horrendous stories people write about us... drivers." It was a half lie, but it still left a bitter taste on Charles' tongue. He didn't like lying to Max. 

Max didn't push, instead he started a new conversation.

_____

They entered the paddock, Max stopped and turned to Charles.

"We should do that more often. Hanging out, not sneaking out of the paddock." He winked.

Charles winked back, making Max giggle softly.

"See you around Charles." He whispered into Charles' ear and went off towards the Red Bull garage. Charles stood there, too stunned to speak. When he was around Max, everything happened so fast, so naturally, so smoothly that he didn't even have time to think. Only now, when Max had left, he could finally take a grip of the situation.

Max Verstappen, his fiercest rival, his childhood enemy, the only one he wanted, had just snook out of the paddock with him, went karting, called him pretty and ruffled his hair. And not to forget, was Charles' emotional support once again.

He was always there for Charles, always accepted him as he was and knew him so well, every version of himself. Even the broken one, the overly emotional one, the one Charles was when he was alone. Max knew it all.

Charles walked to the Ferrari garage, trying to remember the shortcut Max used to get there. As he arrived in the Ferrari garage, he hid back in his corner, hoping no one had noticed that he had left.

To his relief, it seemed like his absence went unnoticed.

Sunday

(Yes, i am skipping Saturday cz I am already short on time:)

First front row start of the season. Too bad it wasn't from Pole. He sat in the car, waiting (im)patiently for the 5 lights to go out. As soon as they did, he hit the throttle, trying to keep the P2 position. He failed, George and Lando both overtaking him.

 Lando? Didn't he start from like P6? He must have had an amazing start to be up in P3 already. A few laps later, he heard Bryans voice over the radio.

"And Norris 5 second penalty for false start."

Well that explains his amazing start.

Charles, who had started on Mediums, found himself in some clean air at the top of the pack of drivers, when all the soft starters pitted

"Ok Charles, so we are doing Plan B, B for Bravo."

"How about Plan D for Delta?"

"No Charles, we are doing Plan B"

Fuck these guys honestly. Max had been right. How are they supposed to win a championship if they don't ever listen to what their driver actually wants?

He pitted on Lap 18.

"Please guys, consider Plan D." He said over the radio for the last time.

He was ignored, again.

"If there will be traffic, it's gonna be shit for the brakes"

"It will be close to Gasly, only Gasly on the exit."

He pitted for another set of mediums.

"And Gasly 7 lap used mediums ahead."

Charles overtook Pierre with no trouble. Next on the list was Lando, whom Charles didn't even think he would be able to get close to. Shockingly, comparing the Mclarens pace to the pace of his Ferrari, he spotted a gap on Lap 25 and went for it. Weirdly enough, He managed to stay ahead.

As if it were called from heaven, a Safety Car came out around Lap 32. All of the top 5 got a free pitstop. Charles was given hard tires.

"Just to know, what tires does everyone have?"

"So Piastri on mediums, Norris mediums, Russell softs and Lewis Hamilton on hards."

"Safety Car coming in this Lap."

The restart wasn't problematic for Charles. He managed to keep his P3 position from Lando's McLaren.

"And Norris went wide in Turn 4, maybe he needs to give the position back."

Charles now had Lewis behind, who could protect him from Lando who had given the position back in order to avoid another penalty. To Charles' dismay, Lando didn't necessarily struggle overtaking Lewis. 

5 laps to the end, all hope of a potential podium swept away with Lando finally overtaking him in Turn 4. There was something up with his DRS, meaning he couldn't use it to attack Lando and try to regain that third place. It looked like another missed opportunity. If they had taken more risks with their strategy, then maybe a podium could've been possible. He finished the race in P4 again. 

_____

Interviews....

God. He really thought that there never was a driver who enjoyed them. He was watching Max, who seemed as unbothered as ever, doing his interview, obviously not giving the interviewer anything to work with. A natural smile spread on his face as he thought of their Friday misdemeanours.

The cute Dutch word played in his head on repeat. He could hear Max's soft voice, the spark in his eye. He was reliving that day in his head. Someone tapped his shoulder. 

"Carlos! Hi mate."

"Hi Charles, how was your weekend?" Charles had no idea what he wanted to know this time, but he played along, carefully choosing every word he spoke.

"Good enough, I guess. Could've been better. The car is still shit and the McLarens are flying. But I guess we didn't get disqualified at least." He laughed.

"Did you do anything else, like anything fun?"

Charles had no idea what Carlos was trying to make him say.

"What do you mean by that?"

They were both interrupted by Max, who finished his interview early, clearly not cooperating with the interviewer. He looked at Charles on his way out, making Charles giggle, knowing the both thought of the same thing. 

"Just an inchident, huh?" Charles called after him.

Max turned around and flipped him off, only making Charles laugh more.

Once Max was gone, Carlos asked.

"Ohh, I see. Something happened, huh?"

Charles gave him a confused look, a sincere confused look. He was blushing. "Nothing happened, just recalling the inchident."

"Yet you are still blushing."

"Shut up Carlos, if anyone else finds out, I will murder all of you. Lando, Alex, George and you. I know my family and Seb would never do such a thing."

Charles noticed the interviewer waiting impatiently, and decided to go over.

"Bye Carlos, talk to you later."

Charles didn't once look back at what Carlos was doing. He was too busy focusing on the interview, but he probably should've turned around, since what Carlos was doing would interest him, quite a lot.

Monday

He was woken up in the middle of the night by Sylvia calling him. He answered quickly, hoping that it wasn't because of another DSQ for the team.

"Charles, Instagram story, what the hell?!"

"What about it?' he asked, sleep deprived and confused.

"Oh my God, Charles! You posted a picture of the Bahrain International Karting Circuit, with Max Fucking Verstappen sitting in a kart, smiling at you like a madman. DELETE THAT NOW. And also I would like an explanation before I go to Fred."

Holy Fuck, she was right. He must've mis-clicked and accidentally posted that. It was a photo he took of Max while they went karting on Friday. But he couldn't tell Sylvia that.

"Ohh, that's an old photo of Max that he sent me when he moved up to F1. I didn't even know that was on my camera roll! I am so sorry. I will delete that story now."

His PR training had at least one benefit. He learnt how to lie, not just lie, but lie in a very believable way. Thanks to it, Sylvia didn't ask any more questions. She believed him, thanks be to God.

"Ok then, thank you Charles. Have a good day."

He ended the call. Thank fuck she had called him, he would've had some serious explaining do to. Now, it was all gone, and for the people that saw it, well he'd let Ferrari deal with that.

In the end, he decided to do one more thing.

Max❤️‍🩹

                         (The picture that was on his story)

                                        look at this gem Max😂😂

💀💀

Wednesday

Suddenly, the scene shifted, instead of standing on the top step of the podium, he was standing on the front of his car, Bryan, Fred and everyone else in Ferrari running towards him chanting "Campion!! Campioni!! Siamo i Campioni!!" Another dream coming true, he finally did it. The World Championship was finally his. Maybe he really was Ferrari's Il Predestinato. A river of emotions flooded his body, his breath coming out unstable and ragged. It was as if someone punched all the air out of him, leaving his lungs empty and weak from the impact. Shutting his eyes, he tried to focus on inhaling, the chaos around him not making it any easier. He could feel fingers crawling up his body, hands ruffling his hair. His whole body was trembling with fear. He could feel someone's breath in his ear, whispering quietly. Champagne was being sprayed, everyone was celebrating... A hand was placed on his shoulder, shaking it violently. 

All of a sudden, his eyes burst open, body still shivering from the nightmare. He turned his head to see Max, all red faced, eyes full of fear and worry. His hand was still snug on Charles shoulder, fingers digging in deeper with every second. He let out a long held breath of relief once Charles opened his eyes.

"C...Charlie..? Are you ok now?" Max's gaze lingered on him for a second, before taking the seat next to him. He handed Charles a glass of water, which Charles drank immediately, hands struggling to hold the glass. Charles leaned back into the plane seat, hoping to stop the trembling.

"Charles?" Max's caring eyes not leaving him for a second.

Charles took a shaky breath before answering.

"N..Night...Nightmare."

Half consciously, Charles reached out for Max's hand. Max, slightly shocked, but pleased by the invitation, took Charles' hand in his own, intertwining their fingers together.

Charles was still shaking, gripping onto Max's hand even tighter.

"What was it about?" Max prompted gently.

"I won it... The Championship. Then, I felt like all the air was punched out of me."  Charles began slowly. "I... I couldn't breathe Max. I was so scared." His voice became a whisper, only for Max to hear. "Thank you for waking me." Charles gazed into Max's eyes. 

Lando, who was sitting behind Charles, kicked his seat abruptly. Charles regained consciousness in seconds, turning to Lando and sticking up the middle finger. Charles glanced around the jet, his gaze landing on his and Max's intertwined fingers. He pulled his hand away, looking at Max with embarrassment. 

"Sorry" He looked away, hiding his face in his elbows. 

Max, noticing that Charles was shaking even more now, reached for his hand and taking it between his fingers, said.

"If it helps Charlie, I don't mind, really. I just want you to feel safe." he smiled at Charles, whose fingers intertwined with Max's nearly naturally.

"Thank you again Max. It's always like this when I try to sleep on flights."

"Any time. You are a guest on my flight, so I need to make sure you are safe, or else Ferrari and your feral fans would kill me" He chuckled in the cutest way (at least according to Charles).

"And Lando," Max said, turning to the Brit. "You are also a guest here, so please do not kick my plane seats, or else you will be cleaning them yourself and will have to suffer the consequences of giving Charles back pain."

The three of them burst out with laughter, Charles still firmly gripping Max's hand.

As they parted ways in the airport, Lando ran over to Oscar, and started yapping intensely, as if they hadn't seen each other for years. As Charles was about to leave, he turned to Max.

"Thank you Max, I owe you."

"Any time Charlie, you don't owe me anything. Good luck on Sunday" Max winked and walked his own way.

Charles watched as Max walked away, turning back at Charles to give him one last wave. The small gesture made Charles smile, as he too walked away to his team. Charles paid little to no attention to whatever Andrea was saying, knowing it wasn't going to be racing related anyway. Instead his thoughts were focused on Max's many kind gestures towards him on the plane ride. Waking him up from that nightmare, holding his hand, the little parting wink, the nickname... 

Well, Max probably wasn't interested in some lame guy he met during karting, who has nightmares on plane flights.

 And anyway, he was supposed to be here to fight for Championships, not dream of burying his head in the chest of Max Verstappen, while he runs his fingers through his hair kissing him affectionately...

Non, Championship first. It's the only thing that mattered to him. 

Win the Championship. 

Make everyone proud. 

And do it with Ferrari. 

Like in the dream, without the sufficating of course. 

Saturday

"The P4 feels like a bit of a subscription at this point, doesn't it?"

"Yeah. Not a subscription I like."

Fucking P4, again...

How much longer will this go on for? He finished P4 in Bahrain,  P4 in the Chinese Sprint Race and qualified and finished P4 in Japan. Now P4 again. It was like they physically weren't able to place any higher. P4 had been their highest finishing position in the season so far. 

At least, if you were to look on the bright side in pure desperation, at least it wasn't a P6 or a P8. 

But a P4 isn't a win, and never will be. And to win, you need a fast car. 

Well, not really. One driver had proved that over and over again. And if Max could, why couldn't he?

 That was the mentality he had entered the race weekend with. He always tried to win, but after completely turning his back on everything that was being done on the opposite side of the garage, and attempting to make the car more suitable for him, with his mechanics and engineers alone, he may as well try a new mindset. 

If someone else could win, why couldn't he?

_____

With his hood up and his head down, he walked away from the race track, hoping not to run into any fans. 

Even if Quali didn't exactly go his way, the walk certainly did. It was calming and nerve-settling. Exactly what he needed.

Charles had always been an ocean person. He simply loved it. It was calming, but at the same time spine-chilling and unexplored. The many things that relied on or happened around the ocean fascinated him. Birds glided gracefully through the sky, like F1 cars on track. The waves crashed onto the sandy coastline, chasing away scuttling crabs and other little creatures. The fresh ocean breeze hung around in the air, giving the area that typical ocean freshness... 

The scent felt oddly familiar - but in the same way as the ocean - distant and unreachable. 

The ocean. 

Vast, beautiful, exciting. Powerful and deadly, but still loved and cherished by many. It ended lives, but is simultaneously home to breath-taking creatures, that rely on its fierceness for protection.

Max Verstappen.

The description fitted him perfectly. Powerful and deadly, but still loved and cherished by many. Even if hated on, his determination and passion for what he does, still leaves people dumbstruck after he steps out of his car. Exciting and... beautiful. Max was indeed very beautiful. His ruffled blonde hair and piercing blue eyes reminded Charles of the ocean, again.

_____

A feeling of insecurity crawled along Charles' back. He turned around abruptly, with the suspicion that he was being followed. After cautiously scanning his surroundings, Charles shrugged, confused and turned back around to face the path ahead of him.

After a few minutes of walking, he reached a free standing street piano and decided to sit down.

The path was empty and the sun was setting.

He gently placed his fingers on the keys, immediately feeling more at home. His fingers glided gracefully along the keys, striking the right notes every time. Slowly, each played note came together to form a song.

The more he played, the more his fingers loosened. With the setting sun hitting his eyes, he began playing faster, more powerfully. The calm and reassuring tune became an abruptly played piano tune of hate and frustration. It was like all of his blocked away feelings were spilling out of him through his fingers and flowing right into the song. He hit a few more powerful notes, full of resentment and disappointment.

Suddenly, he paused, noticing that his fingers were living a life of their own along the piano keys. After taking a deep breath, he placed his fingers onto the keys again, allowing more feelings to flow out of him into the song. This time, it was a much slower melody.

Not a calm one, but a heartbreakingly upsetting one. The sun was nearly all hidden away behind the ocean, the darkness slowly overcoming the whole park. But that didn't stop Charles. His fingers were still going, playing a much bluer tune. They moved along the keys much slower and with much less power and hunger, but no gracefulness was lost. The notes seemed to be flying out of the piano into the dark night sky, up into heaven. Maybe it was for God to hear his pleadings, to help him.

Charles finished the tune suddenly with a last powerful note.

He sat there for a while, allowing his thoughts to linger for a few more minutes. He felt as if he had no control over the music he had played. When the sound of the final notes died away in his ears, he realized that he wasn't playing with his mind, but rather with his heart. Everything that was on his shoulders, all of the things that he went through, every single feeling that felt like it didn't belong, it was all in the song he had just played.

Slowly but steadily, he got up from the piano seat, looking out at the dark ocean. He stood there, listening for a moment, to the crashing waves, to the hooting of owls in the distance, to the sound of cars in a traffic jam behind him.

He wished that they could shut up. He wished that all he could hear was the whispering of the waves. The same waves from the same ocean, the one that he loved so dearly, but could never have for his own.

The ocean that was Max Verstappen.

Sunday

HOLY SHIT...

What a race. It had been a total emotional rollercoaster, especially towards the end, with Lando on his toes, inching closer and closer with every turn. 

But all of that was over. He had managed to maintain his third place, a finishing position he didn't think was even possible on Saturday. A third place wasn't a win, but it was good points, and was as close to the feeling of winning he could get so far. 

He got out of his car, and after undergoing all the necessary measurements, he finally walked over to his helmet stand, picking up a water bottle and taking a well deserved drink. For some reason or other, the cameraman seemed to find this really amusing, walking up to Charles with his camera and filming it. Charles didn't really understand what use the TV stream will have from a clip of him drinking water (other than his good looks of course:) and just tried to ignore the camera close up to his face. He felt slightly odd and disturbed, but all of those feelings melted into thin air as Max walked up to him.

 He looked perfect... His tousled hair and his ocean blue eyes, with the slight glint in the corner... He always liked coming over to Charles after the race and explaining every penalty, overtake or accident he had seen or done. It was cute, really. He usually appeared more focused on Charles, then on what he was trying to explain, but to Charles it was just another driver's post race ritual that he just happened to always be part of. 

He liked how Max often used hand gestures to explain overtakes and crashes, how he looked so pleased to tell Charles about his race and how he never made it boring. Maybe it was just who Max was to Charles, but the post-race conversations were something Charles had used as one of his motivations to push his car over its limits. It was always fun and interesting, and seeing "Post- Race Max" was just another bonus of it. 

After the interviews, when all three of them ended up in the cooldown room, things got slightly more tense. Max was clearly angry about the penalty, and barely said anything in the cooldown room. Charles tried to lighten the mood and not exclude Max from any conversation, but the Dutchman just sat in silence, ignoring everything going on around him.

The heat had always been a lot to handle in Saudi, but today seemed worse than any other race Charles had ever raced. 

It was like that dream. His breathing was shallow and unsteady all over again. As he stood on the podium listening to the Australian anthem, his legs went weak. It was as if they were to fail beneath him, too weak to hold up his weight. He tried not to panic, having raced in other unbearably hot conditions, spraying Oscar with the rose water as normal. But the panic was something he couldn't stop. He had never felt this sick after a race. Unhelpfully enough, the water drops were flying up in the air landing on his forehead constantly, the contact causing him headaches. It must've looked bad too, for when Max came over to him and Oscar to drink a toast to the Aussies victory, he whispered discreetly to Charles.

"Charlie, are you good? You look like you're about to faint."

"I'm fine." Charles said in a voice weaker than he expected.

"No you are not. Wait for me at the bottom of the podium. Do not go further without me. Do you understand?" 

Max looked serious, very serious and deeply concerned. Charles just nodded slowly, too tired to say anything.

He listened to Max, and waited for him beneath the podium, away from the curious eyes of the spectators and media. Max didn't let Charles wait long, making his way down shortly after. He found Charles was leaning against the wall, panting and breathing unevenly. Max nearly tripped while running over to him and swinging a supportive arm around Charles asked again.

"What's wrong Charlie?"

Charles was unable to speak. He just looked up at Max trying to telepathically explain to Max what was going on. Max seemed to understand immediately, rubbing circles on Charles' back systematically. 

"Let's get you some water, come on." 

It was as if he could actually read Charles' mind. They both knew that they had a press conference to get to, but Max didn't seem to mind. He walked Charles to his driver room, his supportive arm not leaving his back. They entered the Ferrari building without any unnecessary questions, since most of the Ferrari staff were still by the podium. 

Max quickly spotted a few bottles of water, passing one to Charles.

Charles couldn't hear anything. His whole body was overheating. His head stinging with pain. He looked like he was on the verge of passing out. Max quickly pressed the bottle against his lips, encouraging him to drink. 

The water felt cold against Charles' lips, as he began rasping it up with his tongue.

 Then the lights went out.

_____

Slowly but steadily, he opened his eyes.

"Charles, don't you ever do that to me again. You scared the shit out of me." Charles looked up at Max, to find himself lying on the Dutchman's lap. He still felt slightly warm, but not an overly worrying amount. He gave Max a sincere smile, and asked.

"Did I pass out?"

Max ruffled Charles' hair and answered playfully, "You did indeed. But you feel better now, don't you?"

Charles nodded.

"Are you OK to do the Press Conference? Or do you want to run away to some kart track again and recreate 'inchident'?"

They both exploded with laughter, thinking of the exact same thing. Charles felt much better after hearing Max crack the 'inchident' joke again. All his lost energy flooded back into his body, as he shot back at Max.

"I'm fine, and by the way it would be you who would want to skip the media. And why are you so obsessed with the 'inchident'? I always see you mention it on your streams." 

Max's face lit up at the mention of his streams.

"Do you watch them?"

"Only when there is nothing better to watch. It's a last resort." Charles responded teasingly. Charles was painfully aware of how untrue that was. Max's streams were always his first choice. He would stay up late nights and watch Max sim-race, wherever and whenever the streams were on. 

The frequent 'inchident' mentions were his favourite part. He loved the way Max said it, how it never failed to remind him of being a stupid little kid, trying to befriend Max. God, maybe if he wasn't that dumb, thinking that pushing Max off the track would get the boy's attention, he and Max would've been friends for more than just a couple of years. He laughed to himself at the memory.

"Looks like you feel better Charlie, let's go. We have a press conference to attend." He rolled his eyes at the last sentence. 

Max put out his hand to help Charles get up. The little glint was back in his eyes again, thanks God. Max looked much happier whenever the glint appeared in his eye. Charles felt a tickling feeling in his stomach, butterflies, they called it. His gaze lingered in Max's eyes for a second too long.

"Y-you have very nice eyes Max. Like the ocean." Charles said, trying to explain himself. He immediately decided that the compliment was a mistake, looking down in embarrassment. All he was doing recently was embarrassing himself in front of Max. First the jet, then the podium, now here. 

Get a grip, Leclerc. 

He never managed to stop himself from complementing Max, even if that meant feeling really dumb and self conscious afterward. He was just always unwillingly himself around Max, unable to hide any part of himself from Max's ocean blue eyes. 

Max laughed quietly and whispered to Charles.

"Come on, your eyes are much nicer than mine." He laughed gently. Soon Charles was laughing too, both of them smiling uncontrollably. 

Max stepped closer to Charles, their lips centimetres apart. Charles felt his heartbeat racing. They were still both giggling like little children. Max's gaze wandered to Charles' lips, as his hand gripped the side of Charles' face. He pinned Charles against the wall, pressing their foreheads together.

Charles reached out to brush away a stranded piece of Max's hair, their lips in closer proximity than ever.

"Max..." Charles breathed quietly against Max's lips.

"Charlie..." Max's ocean blue eyes looked up into Charles' eyes, as if they were looking for consent. Charles nodded, his whole body tingling with excitement. He could feel Max's breath against his ear, as the Dutchman took his face in two hands and tilted it slightly...

"Charles, where are you?" 

Carlos barged into the room, spotting Max and Charles. Carlos' eyes lit up as he gasped quietly. Oscar ran into the room behind him, stopping in the doorway and looking at Carlos knowingly. Max took a step back, feeling slightly awkward, but neither his or Charles' smile faded away.

"Come on guys, we can't be late to the Conference. I don't necessarily want to get fined today." Oscar said, eyeing Max and Charles carefully. The two smiled at each other and made their way out of Charles' driver room, Carlos and Oscar close behind them.

_____

"Since when are Oscar and Carlos so close?" Max whispered to Charles as they walked to the press conference.

Charles turned around to Carlos and Oscar, who were walking behind them. Max was right. They were constantly whispering something to each other and seemed pretty close.

"You're right. I never thought they were friends or anything.  Must be a recent thing." Charles shrugged.

They walked in silence for a while, constantly turning back and being met with the same sight. Carlos and Oscar having a normal human conversation. Charles was convinced that since Miami last year, they were more like enemies than friends.

Max broke the silence after a bit.

"Charles, can I ask you something?" 

Charles nodded, and looked at Max, slightly confused but curious.

Max paused and looked around cautiously, as if to see if anyone was eavesdropping. He leaned towards Charles slightly.

"I think Lando is plotting something. He asked me a lot of random questions yesterday when I went to check on him after his crash. Like if he was trying to get me to stumble and say something."

Charles stopped walking, eyes wide in disbelief. 

"Max, you are right. Something is up. Alex and Carlos are always following me around and asking me the most unhinged things too. I thought it was just me, so I wasn't too sure but there is definitely something we don't know."

At once, they both turned around, eyeing each other, both thinking the same thing. 

Oscar...

The Aussie raised his eyebrows at the sight of Max's and Charles' facial expressions. He didn't say anything, but instead turned to Carlos and gestured towards the confused looking duo ahead. Carlos laughed sarcastically and whispered something to Oscar, rolling his eyes. Charles' piercing stare lingered on the two, trying to lip read what they were saying.

But to his despair, he was no good lip reader, only managing to make out a couple of words.

"What are they talking about?" Max asked, after he understood what Charles was doing.

"I don't know, all I understood was a couple of useless words. And then Lando's name."

"Lando... God, that guy doesn't have anything better to do in life." 

The joke was followed by an outburst of laughter from both drivers.

"Like we have anything better to do. Looks like the guy has hobbies." Charles replied, half laughing.

"Yeah, me for sure. You can play piano at least. You're not that useless."

"You listen to my music?" Charles' eyes lit up with pride.

"Only as a last resort." Max replied, smirking.

Friday

There are not many instances where luck defies your session in F1, but today's FP1 session was definitely one of those lucky escapes. Charles had finished the practice in P2, thanks to the session being red flagged towards the end, and not all drivers completing their run on the soft tyre. The real test would be Sprint Qualifying, and if Charles were to be honest, he wasn't necessarily looking forward to it. 

He felt as if the whole of FP1 was just a fluke. It didn't show their true speed at all and was a slightly useless session to him at least. The perfectly timed red flag is the only thing that helped him keep his P2. And it was a meaningless one anyway.

As he got into the car for Sprint Quali, a bad feeling overcame him. A driver was always meant to be confident and believe in their abilities before setting foot in the car, and definitely shouldn't be troubled by thoughts of their biggest rival and his massively mixed signals towards him.

He usually managed to push out the thoughts of Max with the thrill of racing, but it seemed not to be enough anymore. Maybe the car was just so shit, that Charles' mind prefered to be occupied by random thoughts of Max, then having to think about the near undrivable car. 

He took a mental note to call Carlos after Quali and talk to him about it, even if he was plotting something with the others.

Carlos was the only person Charles could turn to and talk to without being judged (with the exception of Max, who in this case wasn't an option). He would just make him promise to stay quiet, and hope he listens.

Sprint Quali went nearly exactly as Charles had predicted. Many fans might've been fueled by the FP1 result, but when it came to the real deal, the Ferrari was NOWHERE (again). He finished in P6 with Lewis behind him in P7. Not where Ferrari should be finishing. 

The big news everywhere was that Kimi Antonelli had become the youngest Polesitter and will be starting in P1 for the first time in the Mercedes. Charles had congratulated the young Italian sincerely.

Max, who had finished in P4 himself, was beaming with pride for the Italian, and Charles would lie if he said he wasn't slightly jealous.

 After Sprint Qualifying was over, the only thing Charles had wanted to do was sleep and never wake up. Unfortunately for him, the team had asked him and Lewis to stay behind for an extra hour and give the engineers as much feedback as possible. 

"They really think they can fix this mess before tomorrow." Lewis whispered to Charles pointing to the SF-25. Charles nodded, smiling weakly. 

"Well at least they're trying." Charles shrugged.

It felt great to be back in Imola. It was Ferrari's 2nd home race, and shared the reputation of Monza for being packed with their beloved Tifosi. 

There were many benefits to performing in front of your home crowd. You had the endless support and hope surrounding you while you drove, their passion radiating all around the track. Every Italian at the track rooted for you, even if they weren't a Ferrari Fan.

It was special, racing in front of your home crowd twice a year. The fans here were as much of a blessing as the fans in Monza were. They love Ferrari with their whole hearts and are ready to give everything for their beloved red team to win at home. And when you won, you had the entire nation celebrating on your behalf. The feeling was indescribable. 

 But as much as their love for the team was a blessing, it was as much a curse in hiding. There was double pressure on your back, to perform well for your team and for the fans. Really, wherever you raced in Formula 1, you would certainly find many Ferrari Fans rooting for you, but at home it was - different. More special. Those fans at the racetrack represent a whole nation, which is constantly cheering you on and supporting you. But if you underperform, the whole nation will grieve with you, and you would feel the responsibility for their laments. 

Charles loved the Tifosi, and they loved him back. There are many types of love, but this one never fitted into any of the standards. It wasn't much of a friendship love, or a relationship type of love either. It was more like a family love, like a mother and father watching their son succeed. Proud love. Supportive but harsh. It was a special type of love, meant for Ferrari and the Tifosi only.

It never bothered him much if he didn't have a great practice session. It was just a practice session, something used for trial and error. If you are to make an error during the race weekend it would be the practice session you would sacrifice. They usually didn't matter too much, since they were only practice sessions, mere practices. 

But any session in the car that doesn't finish well in front of your home crowd is a different story. it didn't matter if there were no points for the session, you did bad, and that was simply not acceptable. 

See, these people represent a whole nation. These people, even if you don't know them by name, or are seeing them for the first time, are here. Watching you mess up. And not only the people watching it in the Grandstands, the fans watching on TV as well. They chose to watch you drive, expecting you to deliver, only to waste their time watching you screw up.

That was the type of thing he had been trying to explain to Lewis prior to the weekend. But the Brit, as much as he wanted to, couldn't understand without being there in the car and winning a race for them. when they are your fans...

Of course, Lewis had won many races in Italy, but none with Ferrari. He simply couldn't understand without living through it first.

Racing in Italy was always a big deal, no matter whether it was Imola or Monza. It was not the time to be preoccupied with any other thoughts than winning. But this one time, Charles knew he would pull it off. He didn't once try to get rid of it. He liked it there, neatly tucked in the corner of his mind. Protected and loved. A little, but meaningful memory that made him giggle like a child, and blush like a teenager. He didn't even know if Max remembered. 

But he did, and he was glad he didn't forget.

Saturday

What the fuck-

Charles actually thought he would stop breathing when his engineer informed him of his track position.

P11. Not acceptable. ABSOLUTELY not acceptable.

And what nerved him even more was that Carlos got the fastest lap of Q2. 

How...

Enzo Ferrari is seriously turning in his grave right now.

Charles got out of his car, his anger radiating onto everyone he passed. He may have been good at hiding his emotions, only opening up in the silence of his own apartment or in the presence of a trusted loved one, but anger is one of those unhidable emotions for Charles. If he really was angry, he couldn't ever hide it. It will be obvious to everyone around him, no matter how much he tried. With the knowledge of that, he didnąt exchange a single word with anyone in the garage. 

He marched up to his driver room, notebook in hand, hoping it would calm him slightly.

As he opened the notebook, he was greeted by a surprise. A little picture peeked out from behind the cover of the book, falling lazily into the ground. He picked it up with curiosity, turning it over. 

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. The memory made him forget Qualifying, even if only for a split second. On the opposite side of the photo was a picture of two teenagers in karting suits standing next to each other, hands wrapped around the other's shoulder, trying to hide their obvious smiles. Charles rolled his eyes playfully at the photo. He was so stubborn as a child. 

He gently slid the photo into the side of this notebook, taking a mental note to show it to Max at the next possible occasion.

With the anger from Quali still boiling inside of him, he took out a pen and began to write.

17th of May, Post-Quali.

You can't move. 

You are stuck.

Unable to move on, but not willingly unable. Unable because of the mistakes you made that have to be fixed or made up for. And when you manage to do that, you become once again, free as a bird, living peacefully on the riverbank, ready to leave when the floods hit.

Oh what I would give to be that bird... 

Except I wouldn't fly. I would stay, looking at the opposite riverbank, wondering. 'How will I ever get there?' And if I finally decide to fly, I would think back to that view and that riverbank, its ferocious floods and the danger it gave me, but also the sight I woke up to every day, wondering the same question. 'How will I ever get there?' 

The challenge, and the feeling living at the riverbank gave me. Having my whole family constantly talk about getting to the other side. 

That is why, I have stuck with Ferrari for so long, without leaving. I am the bird, the opposite riverbank is the championship. And maybe there is an easy solution, like for the bird to fly to the other side, but I haven't found my solution yet.

I have hope in them, I know that it is possible. I know that I can't just leave now. Not after surviving so long through their floods as I lived on the riverbank.

I can do it, and I will. I am confident.

Charles put is pen between his teeth, lost in thought for a second.

He knew what he wanted to write, and the words were there. His main focus was supposed  to be on the bad Quali result, but there were certain thoughts he couldn't escape, no matter how hard he tried.

I love him. I really do. 

But then we kiss, and nothing? 

He said that racing is more important than love, and then kisses me in public?

Lets me hold his hand, is my comfort in stress, runs my fingers down his lips...

We haven't spoken since that night. I haven't seen him since he drove me home that night. 

Was that all meaningless, was he too drunk to remember?

Do I have to ask him first now? What if he doesn't feel the same? 

Maybe I am just a coward, too afraid to fight for what I thought I won last week. Maybe I am not good enough?

The painting.

I have it with me here. A memory of the 13th Inchident Anniversary. Of that day.

I will wait, and fight for him as much as I fight for the Championship.

I am not just saying, I know.

He shut the notebook, without sparing a single glance at the words he just wrote, afraid that all the thoughts and feelings he just put into the pages of the book would wake up inside of him once again.

_____

 He heard a gentle knock on his door, watching it open slowly.

"Who is there?" Charles questioned impatiently.

The person didn't reveal themselves, they just walked into the room, closing the door behind them and resting against it. Charles was still unable to recognise the person. They had a hood on their head, not showing their hair and casting a shadow over their face, making it unreadable. They kept their head down, taking great care not to look into Charles' eyes. 

Charles spotted a strand of blonde peeking out from under the hood. 

It couldn't be. 

There was no way-

Charles looked down at the figure sitting by his door. 

"Max?"

The figure looked up, allowing Charles to catch a glimpse of his baby blue eyes. 

He stood up and walked over to Charles, taking down his hood. There was no glint in his eye.

"What happened Max?" Charles questioned. He didn't care if Max didn't feel the same way, or thought it was a mistake. Charles still loved him, no matter what.

Max sat down next to Charles, looking defeated.  

He took a long, deep breath in before saying.

"Do- do you remember?"

He paused for a second, then got up and said.

"Nevermind Charles. Don't worry about it." He turned and walked to the door.

Charles sprang up and reached for Max's hand. He noticed that Max was shaking.

"I- thought you didn't remember Max. I could never forget." He whispered.

It was that secret connection that gave Charles confidence in his words. He had no way of knowing what Max wanted him to remember, deciding to follow his instincts with his words.

Max turned to face him, gripping Charles' hand.

"We need to talk then." Max whispered back, fighting back a small smile.

Max still looked unsure as Charles led him to sit on the floor next to him. 

They sat in silence for a minute, hands intertwined. Max was the first to speak.

"You really remember that night?"

Charles smiled unsurely.

"Of course."

"Then why didn't you say anything?"

The question stung. Why didn't he say anything?? Maybe because he was a coward. Maybe because he was too afraid of rejection. Maybe because it was easier to keep quiet than to confess the truth. 

Maybe because the truth was too difficult, inconvenient. Because the lie was simpler.  

"I- don't know," he said in the end. 

"I was afraid, afraid of rejection. It was easier   to lie than tell the truth, and since I have done it for so long, I didn't think it would affect me to continue. But I was wrong."

Max smiled. "I thought you forgot." he brushed his fingers on Charles' hand.

" I could never forget. It would be impossible."

The small spark in Max's eye reappeared. Charles looked into them, eyes locked in the gaze. The ocean coloured, baby blue eyes began to look more and more hopeful with every passing second.

"Charles," Max spoke with passion in his voice, powerfully and meaningly. 

He stopped, voice lowering to a whisper, 

"Do- do you want this too?" His voice was quieter, but more desperate. Max looked Charles up and down. The unspoken sentence hung in the air. "Do you want me?" 

Charles nodded, no hesitation. His eyes were shining, happiness radiating from his body.

"Words Charlie. I need to hear you say it."

The words moved something within Charles.

" I want this, I've wanted this since I was a teenager on the karting track, since the 'Inchident'. Since I had to part ways with you, as you moved on into Formula 1. Since I spotted you in the paddock in 2016 for the first time, since my first F1 race. Since you pushed me on the track in Austria, since you asked me about the flag in Singapore of 2019. Since you won your first championship, since we fought for one at the beginning of the 2022 season. Since Vegas in 2023, Since your hug to me in Monaco last year. Since our near kiss in Saudi, since our kiss in Miami. Max, I have wanted this for all my life. I have wanted you. And I still do."

Max didn't reply. 

Instead, he snuck his hand behind Charles, placing it on his back. Charles gasped, as the Dutchman's lips collided with his, a faint taste of sweet raspberries lingering on each kiss. Max kissed him like no one ever had before, holding him up as he leaned in closer with each kiss. 

"Too long. Too long. I should've done this years ago." Max murmured.

Charles relaxed in Max's arms, clinging onto his neck. He allowed Max to take full control, warmth and security surrounding them both. He shut his eyes, feeling into the kisses placed on his lips. 

Clouded memories flew back to him through the kiss.

_____

"Maxy, where are you? Maman got us croissants!!" A little boy says.

The other boy runs over quickly.

"This one is for you." He passes one croissant to the other boy. "It is blue inside, like your eyes."

"What does your one have inside??" 

"Raspberries, because they are red like Ferrari." Both boys laughed.

They each took a bite of the others one, before digging into their own. 

"Maxy, you have raspberries on your lips. Look." The boy took out a tissue and wiped the other boy's lips.

"Thank you Charlie." Max smiled at the kind gesture. But Charles was mesmerised by something else. He was still looking at Max's lips. 

"Is there any more raspberries?" Max asked.

Charles blinked to clear his vision. "No, it's just-" he stopped for a moment "Your lips are pretty."

Max raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Really?"

Charles noticed his mistake in an instance. He panicked and lied. "I have to go Max. Bye!"

He ran off, leaving Max confused and alone.

After that day, Max never spoke kindly to anyone at the kart-track.

_____

Charles opened his eyes, met with the sight of those same lips that he admired all those years ago. They still had that faint raspberry taste to them, that same taste that started and ended so many things. 

"Your lips still taste like raspberries." Charles breathed against Max's lips.

"You like the taste?" Max kissed him quickly, teasing him slightly.

"Yes, very much." Charles reached one hand to Max's forehead, pushing his hair back to press a small kiss to his forehead.

"Are my lips still pretty?" Max questioned further, pulling Charles up onto his lap.

"Very pretty. Very beautiful." Charles ran his fingers against Max's lips to highlight the meaning of his words. Their eyes met, both looking away awkwardly and giggling at the old joke. 

Charles pressed a little kiss to Max's nose, sprouting even more giggles. 

Max brushed away a few stray pieces of Charles' hair, before cupping his face in his hand, fingers stroking his cheeks.

He placed a kiss on his forehead. "My-"

Pressing a cute kiss to Charles' nose he continued. "Pretty-"

And colliding their lips together again he whispered against Charles' lips. "Boy." 

They made out clumsily, drunk on their previous kisses and confessed love. Hands roamed freely along their bodies, kisses got messy, breaths got heavier. Every time Charles met Max's eyes, he wondered to himself. How could everything end so peacefully, in the way I had always wished?  How could I be so lucky??

He lay his head on Max's shoulder, trying to catch his breath. Then it came to him.

"Max, where did you place in Quali?"

"2nd, but that doesn't matter right now. You matter right now Charlie."

Charles closed his eyes, feeling Max's arm pull him in closer.

"I love it when you call me Charlie." He whispered. "Because no one else says it like you. It's specially made for you." 

"Charlie, Charlie, Charlie..." Max repeated, smiling.

Charles Leclerc, I lo-"

Sunday

Max never finished saying what he had started that day. In the end, they were both called on by their teams and had to part ways. Fucking bastards.

Charles looked forward to the drivers parade more than the actual race (He was rightful in doing so in the end anyway). Max came up to him before-hand, starting a random conversation. Charles was grateful for his presence, even if the topic they both wanted to bring up was impossible to talk about in a place like this. They kept giggling and grinning awkwardly at the other, no matter the topic. When Alex joined them shortly after, Max felt that it would be a great idea to bring up the Miami party.

"So Alex, how did you enjoy the party in Miami?"

Alex went red, rolling his eyes at the duo opposite him.

"I did. What about you Max?" he did his best to look polite, even if in reality he wanted to pick out Max's eyeballs and throw the Dutchman off this cart.

"It was no short of amazing. I had so much fun." He winked at Charles, making them both laugh.

Alex eyed them both suspiciously and whispered to Charles as he was walking away. "You have got a menace for a boyfriend Charles." 

"Says the one!!" Charles called after him.

Alex turned to show him the middle finger as he found a spot next to Lando and started an immediate conversation with the Brit.

"So now he is scheming with Lando..." Max whispered into Charles' ear, watching Alex in the corner of his eye.

"I wonder what about.." Charles answered back.

"I would give a lot to find out."

"Me too."

_____

The race was...

Mediocre. He finished in P6, after having to swap positions with Lewis and having to give a position back to Alex for no reason.

"That’s how racing is now? When he can’t pass, I need to let him pass? This is a fucking joke. What did I do wrong?" He said frustrated over the radio. 

In the end, P6 was better than P11, and he was happy for Lewis, who came home in P4. You needed a podium of course for the full Tifosi in Italy experience, but he thought the P4 would show Lewis how it was to race in front of them and bring home a good result. He himself wasn't happy with his P6, but after a chaotic race, and a track where there aren't many overtaking opportunities, he still did well enough. Well that's what everyone else would've thought. But no, not Charles. Because when is P6 considered a good result for a team like Ferrari. 

Never.

____

When he got back to his hotel room, he ordered a take-out pizza and two raspberry croissants. He opened the blinds, looking up at the night sky.

The stars were clear and visible in Imola, not a singular cloud in the sky. He spotted a bright shining star in the distance, its light near blinding. It hurt to look at it, the longer your gaze lingered on it, the more uncomfortable it got to look at. But as painful it was to look at, it was the only thing you could see and focus on. Its sorrowful shine, filled with unfulfillment and disappointment. Its white light was unforgettable. So regret filled and grieving.  As pure as the light it radiated was, it was wounded - but still doing its best to light up the dark sky. 

As Charles tried to look away, eyes sore, he was met with a much gentler and softer light. A small star in the shadowy night, lighting its own little area. The sight was cute, a small light shining so peacefully. It brought a little smile to his lips, watching the small star caringly bring light to the small space.

Out of the blue, all went dark. 

A sudden stream of darkness had fallen over the sky, covering the white lighted star and the little star in an instant. Charles watched on in amazement, as he spotted the warm light slowly peek out through the heavy clouds. The little spark fighting for what it wanted. To show the world that not all that mattered had to be the big, important stuff. Sometimes, what really matters is the ability to spot the beauty in the little things, like memories and thoughts. Or light pulling through the clouds to shine above the world. Sometimes the smaller thing can block away the bigger thing, and be stronger. Sometimes what we are really looking for is right in front of us, and we still go on searching. 

What most people choose as their priority in life, doesn't have to be yours. Sometimes what we really want is right in front of us, already there, and we still go on and fight for more. 

Most people would wait for the big star to shine again, before going outside, but really, the little star's light is all they were looking for.

Sometimes what you most desire is right in front of you, in your hand even. 

Don't let it slip away with larger wants and wishes.

It will never be worth it anyway.

Friday

Max❤️‍🩹

are you home?

Yes I am. Do you wanna come over??

please

The door is open Charlie

Charles was already heading up the stairs to Max's apartment. As he approached the door, he eyed the area around him carefully, watching out for curious onlookers. He knocked three times, pacing in front of the door. He needed to talk to someone. To calm down and relax before the race weekend. To stop overthinking everything.

The door opened slightly, a hand appearing through the small gap, gripping onto Charles hand and pulling him inside. Charles startled at the sudden force, but allowed it to take control anyway. Another hand came around behind him to shut the door. It all happened quickly, not giving Charles a chance to even look up at Max. 

Two hands wrapped around his torso, pulling him in closer.

"Look at me Charlie."

Charles looked up to see a smiley and slightly tired Max, slightly towering over him.

"Are you standing on your tippy toes Max?" Charles asked suspiciously, knowing that Max wasn't much taller than him.

Max pressed a quick kiss to Charles' forehead.

"I love the way you say 'tippy toes' Charlie. It's cute." He said, lowering down to match Charles' height. Charles laughed at the small compliment. He ruffled Max's hair, looking the Dutchman in the eye.

Max led Charles to the sitting room, guiding them both to the couch. Charles sat next to him, only noticing in that moment that Max had just gotten out of bed.

"Did I wake you Max?"

Max chuckled softly, nearly to himself.

"Is my hair really that messy?"

"No Max. Your hair is perfect. It's just - "

"Just what?" Max prompted. 

Charles was fully aware that any normal person wouldn't be willing to let their neighbour into their house at 5am in the morning, let alone their rival and co-worker.

"You didn't have to get up Max. You could've simply told me to fuck off and mind my own business." Charles sat up straighter, waiting for Max's response.

"Charlie... What would make you think I would ever do that?" Max said, visibly confused.

Charles stopped, lost in thought.

"Well, you don't have any responsibility to do that for me Max. It's not like you are my boyfriend or my family or anything." He shrugged.

After a slight pause, Max spoke, sitting up and facing Charles.

"Would you like me to be your boyfriend?"

Charles' voice lowered to a soft whisper. He lowered his head to hide his bright red cheeks. "Yeah..."

He was scared to look up at Max's reaction. He continued softly muttering under his breath, not knowing whether he wants Max to hear.

"You mean the world to me Max, and it pains me to even think that everything we did was a mistake. It hurts to think that it was all platonic to you. You have said so many things to me, but whether they were all serious I can't tell. And it hurts. What if Imola was just a game to you? What if Miami was all a mistake in your mind Max? I don't know-" He slowly looked up, dropping his head low in an instant. "But not knowing hurts."

A gentle hand was placed on Charles' cheek, turning his head to face Max. Charles wanted to hide, to hang his head low and never look Max in the eye again, but the touch was irresistible. 

"Schatje, look at me please." There was concern in his voice. "We both needed this, this conversation. This should've happened ages ago, as far as in Saudi even. I should've said something, should've been  less oblivious, leaving you confused and forced to read my mind. It wasn't fair, what I did. And I admire your courage Charles, for saying all of that to me, after how I have acted. So please Charles, let me explain myself to you." Now the look of slight embbarrassment transferred onto Max's face. He slouched, eyes looking down.

Charles held his breath, afraid of what was about to follow.

"I am crazy about you Charles, and I am sorry if I hid that from you. I have been crazy about you since karting, crazy for your dangerous overtakes and attitude on the track back then. I didn't understand it when I was younger, I never expected for it to go this way. I never expected to feel my lips against yours, to hold you against my chest. It was all like a dream. A dream that goes away when you wake up. And I didn't want to forget it. I didn't want to wake up with my memory wiped of it all. So I didn't treat it as real. I treated it as something that would eventually go away."

Charles observed and listened patiently, his heart rate racing.

"I was afraid of losing this. This friendship that we've built, even if I have wanted more than that. But now, when my stupidity comes to light, I notice all my mistakes. How painfully obvious you have been, all your words said with clear meanings, while I gave you riddles to guess. How difficult it must've been for you, that difficulty being all my fault. But I couldn't stop thinking about you Charles. That maybe this isn't all something that disappears in an instant. That this isn't just another thing my career would wipe away from me slowly. Maybe the sunlight in my life doesn't eventually set behind the horizon, maybe it stays, its light in the form of moonlight. You are my everything Charles. And if you still want to be my boyfriend, I would be honoured." He smiled a weak smile, sitting back up onto the couch properly.

Charles grabbed his hand, pressing a shy kiss to it.

"Yeah, I would be honoured to be your boyfriend too." He said in a small voice.

"So you are not mad at me?" Max asked, confused.

Charles kissed him on his cheek sneakily. 

"I am not mad. I am glad that we talked it out." Charles sounded sincere, even if his voice was shaking slightly. "I am sorry for being so harsh on you."

"No, no, no. Charlie you haven't said a single harsh thing to me, you just told me how you feel, which by the way was really brave and extremely hot." He placed a cute kiss on his forehead.

"Sorry for overthinking this so much." 

Max slid one sneaky hand under Charles' shirt. 

"I would tell you to shut up, but I can just shut you up myself. Would you like that Charlie?" 

"Yes plea-" Max didn't let him finish.

He pushed him down gently onto the couch, climbing on top of him. Charles gasped at the impact, eyes not leaving Max for a single second.

"Off." Max leaned in and breathed in his ear, gesturing toward Charles' t-shirt.

"Help me Max," Charles gripped Max's hands, leading them to the rim of his top. They pulled it off instantly and threw it onto the floor carelessly, where it was soon joined by Max's top. Max scanned Charles' torso carefully, fingers sliding down his sides.

"Max?"

"Yes Schat?"
"Can I-" he allowed his hands to explore Max's bare upper body, fingers shyly feeling their way around.

"Always Charlie. Everything is so long overdue, my body is aching for your touch. I want to know every inch of you, to make up for all those wasted years. I want to feel your touch, your fingers running down my body-"

Max leaned over him, bare skin touching, and pressed a soft and gentle kiss to the corner of Charles' mouth.

Charles hesitated beneath him, letting his thoughts get in the way again. 

Max felt it, the uncertainty and unnecessary caution in Charles' behaviour. He got up, pulling Charles up with him, allowing the Monegasque to rest his head on his shoulder.

He gazed into Charles' eyes, trying to read the hidden message behind the forest green orbs.

"Did I overstep somewhere Charles?" He asked in a worried tone.

Charles shook his head in disagreement.

"I'm always ruining everything. I can't even kiss you without messing something up." He signed.

"You are not ruining anything schat. You are perfect for me Charlie, you understand?"

"But I am constantly interrupting because of my stupid thoughts." Charles continued. "I'm simply not good enough for you Max. You deserve someone better than me."

Max gave Charles a worried look, rubbing a hand on his back. 

"You are simply the best person I could've ever wished for. And I love your little thoughts, how thoughtful you are. And you never mess anything up, because you can be doing anything and it would still be perfect to me." Charles buried his face in Max's chest.

"I wish you were right Max." he mumbled.

Max kissed him gently on the top of his head, arms wrapping around Charles.

"But it is all true, and I would like you to believe it too." He purred into Charles' ear.

"Thank you Max. I didn't mean to break down like that again. I'm sorry." Charles spoke softly, yet there was a hit of sadness in his words.

"Don't be sorry for your emotions Charles. Feelings are beautiful, both joyful and upsetting ones. Do you want to tell me about it?"

Max's soft and reassuring voice gave Charles a little confidence boost.

"Yeah."

Max pulled him into a hug, rubbing circles on his back.

Charles told him everything. From his shitty car and the home race pressures, to Carlos and his strange behaviour. He explained to Max how he wants to scrape out the eyes of all his mechanics after the Imola GP. How unsafe he felt around Carlos that day. How this year more than in any others, fan pressures and stakes were higher than ever. How he felt like he was disappointing everyone. How he felt like he was always overreacting.

But with all that being said, he deliberately overlooked one thing. 

He didn't ask Max about what he meant in Australia, hesitant of hearing the answer after everything. 

Fear of the possible response clung to him like a koala. He didn't want to hear it, he wanted to run, to hide, to disappear.

Max's fingers brushed his forehead, as he tucked away a stray strand of hair. His hand stayed by his temple, rubbing it gently as he spoke.

"Charles, baby." he signed. "I know how much you love Ferrari, and I understand that as much as there is a lot of pride in being a Ferrari driver, it hurts greatly when things don't work. And I get that Charlie. It always hurts when things don't go your way, especially in front of your home crowd. But what is important, is that you look back at that race as a learning experience, not as a disgrace and a failure. Remember it, but don't let it get in your head too much. Find a balance and don't think about it too long. New race, new opportunities. And take the pressure as a good thing Charlie. Use it as a motivation rather than a stress provider. I know how much your home race means to you. Mine means a lot to me too. We will all be proud of you no matter where you place, as long as you try your best. Ok?" Max smiled softly, the type of smile that lit Charles' eyes up with delight. 

Charles was flooded by relief and warmth. Even if Max's words were the same type of stuff he told himself every morning, they had a magical touch on Charles' heart. He could hear the genuine care in Max's voice, the sound itself bringing his comfort and relaxing him.

"Thank you Max. It means a lot to hear you say that."

"Anything for you schat." He pressed a kiss to Charles' temple.

"You hungry Charlie?" Max asked, slowly getting up from the couch, pulling Charles up behind him.

"What are we gonna eat Max?" Charles said, not rejecting the offer.

Charles sat at the kitchen island, watching Max prepare something to eat. It seemed as if he didn't want Charles to see what it was, hiding it from his view in every angle.

Finally, he turned back to Charles, two plates in hand. Settling down next to the Monegasque, he placed the plates in front of them, a smirk growing on his face.

Charles groaned as he looked down at the plate.

"You are never getting over that, aren't you?"

"You called my lips pretty, what do you expect?" Max ran his fingers down Charles' lips, pulling him in for a playful kiss. Charles rolled his eyes, pretending to look annoyed.

Charles looked down at the raspberry croissant, his stubbornness giving way as he reached for his favourite pastry.

"Is it good?" Max questioned.

"The best." Charles said through a mouthful of croissant.

_____

After a few minutes of sitting in utter silence, Max asked in a serious tone of voice.

"What did Carlos say to you that day?"

Charles froze at the tone of Max's voice. 

Cold, protective, angry even.

Max was being serious about it, clearly not letting Carlos get away with this cleanly. 

And Charles didn't want Carlos to get away with it cleanly. Carlos hurt him. Maybe not with violence, but with his words and actions.

Charles' voice lowered, nearly to a whisper.

"He hurt me - with his words. He said I am not good enough for you, but also that you weren't enough for me, that you wouldn't be able to cope with the way I am. He said that you didn't follow me because you didn't care-" 

Max's eyes shot to Charles. It was clear that he took that personally.

"You didn't believe that, didn't you?"

 Charles didn't know what to say. Because he did believe it, for a while at least. He gazed into Max's ocean eyes. They deserved the truth, he didn't have the guts to lie, not to Max.

"I did, for a while. It affected me even more after our first kiss, not knowing if it was serious or not. I hated the uncertainty, and I kind of took Carlos' dumb comment as the truth, because - well, it was the only possibility that was shown to me."

 "You know I really do care about you Charles. You have meant everything to me, since... forever really."

"I know that now Max. And I am glad you do, because I don't know what I would've done otherwise." 

Max stood up, pulling Charles into a hug. Charles buried himself in Max's scent, the fresh ocean waves wrapping around him and pulling him in closer to Max.

"I got really lucky, finding a special person who accepts me like you do Charlie." He rested his head on Charles' shoulder. "And if anyone ever says you are a lot to handle, trust me, being with you is never too much, it's simply an honour, schatje."

"Thank you Max." Charles whispered.

"Anything for you darling." he winked skittishly.

_____

They parted ways shortly before leaving for the paddock.

"Remember Charlie, don't overthink it too much. Just drive..."

Charles nodded, kissing Max on the side of his neck.

"See you at the track." Charles hopped on his bike, attempting to wink. Max chuckled lovingly as he watched his long loved boyfriend cycle into the distance. 

He had a good feeling for this weekend, not for himself, but for Charles.

Saturday

Max had been right. Everything was going well this weekend. New race weekend, new opportunities. So far, he had topped all three practice sessions and was all set for Quali. His confidence grew with every lap in the car this weekend, and he hoped that it would be the same now, when it really mattered.

_____

"Very close, P2."

Charles let the frustration flow out of him.

"NOOOOOOO!!! FUCK!"

It was close, but close doesn't get you the win. And Pole Position in Monaco was very likely just that. On a track where overtaking is difficult, P1 at the start usually meant the top step of the podium. Fuck this shit.

He knew he would still give it everything, even if it meant chasing down Lando and his rocket ship car with a literal tractor.

As much as he was friends with Lando, this was one of those rare moments that Charles looked at any other driver thinking, That should've been me.

_____

A person grabbed Charles' hand and pushed him into an empty room as he left the press conference room. Charles tried to pull away, but it was too late. He was already standing there, facing no other than Carlos Sainz.

"What is it Carlos?" Charles asked, only half caring.

Carlos walked over to Charles, placing a hand on Charles' hip and another one on the side of his face.

"Look at me Leclerc and quit looking around. Max isn't here, because why would he honestly? That message didn't get to you yet, no?"

"No but seriously Carlos, what do you want?" Charles tried to ignore the Spaniards previous words.

"Stop loving Max. You can't love him Charles. There are better people there, who know you better and will treat you better. Some of them possibly among us in the paddock. Just to let you know, I hope Lando wins tomorrow, because he deserves it, and you don't because of how blind you are. So many more better people and you chose that donkey. Pathetic." he laughed sarcastically. 

He let his hands roam freely on Charles' body as if it was his property. 

"Take your hands off me Carlos." Charles stepped back, shaking off Carlos' hands.

"Leave me Charles, go ahead. But remember that where you go, I follow. Run and you will see me at the finish line. Be stupid, go ahead and find your 'Maxy'. Waste your time, when he will never love you back anyway, I don't care. But remember, he doesn't know you like I know you." Carlos spoke as if he was being manipulated, manipulated by his own mind.

He watched Charles leaving the room, fire in his eyes.

"We aren't finished Charles." He murmured under his breath.

_____

Charles walked out of that room, aggressively turning left. He was trembling all around his body. His race suit felt stained with Carlos' touch, his mind stained with his words. 

All he wanted to do was go home and take a shower, wrap himself up in a warm blanket and watch all the best Monaco race starts. He wanted to go home. He lost his balance for one second.

Suddenly everything went black.

_____

His eyes opened to the sight of Oscar and Lando standing above him. To his left kneeled Max, one hand on his forehead, the other checking his pulse. Their faces all carried worried looks, but as his eyes flew open their faces softened.

"Max, since you have the most medical experience, can we leave you here?" Lando asked, as Oscar elbowed him in the ribs.

"We mean like that you can always call up if you need anything." Oscar tried to make Lando's words sound slightly less careless.

"Yeah ok. No problem. See you tomorrow guys." Max didn't seem to care too much.

When Lando and Oscar were long gone, Max lifted Charles into a sitting position and let him lean onto his shoulder.

"Schatje, what happened. You scared the shit out of us, lying lifeless over here." He didn't let Charles answer, kissing his lips as soon as Charles turned his head. The faint taste of raspberry made him lean into the kiss even more, each kiss getting messier and messier. 

Max finally pulled away, pressing their foreheads together.

"What happened Charles?" Max whispered.

Charles gave him a scared glance before looking down at his hands.

"Carlos happened."

Max tensed, wrapping a protective arm around Charles and pulling him in closer.

"What did he say?" Max said, eyes roaming Charles' body.

Charles was speaking in barely a whisper.

"He said that I can't love you, that you don't know me as well as he does, that you will never like me back." Charles was sitting up weakly, held up by Max's arm, on the verge of tears.

Max's eyes stopped on Charles' chest. He placed his hand on it, feeling Charles' heart beating beneath his palm.

"I love you Charles, and I need you to know that. You are my everything, my love, and Carlos can go die in a hole if he can't deal with that."

A thought popped into Charles' mind.

"If you love me, then why have you never said it to me before?"

Max locked eyes with Charles.

" I needed the right moment, because you are too special to just throw around meaningless 'I love you' to. You are special to me Charles, and worth more than meaninglessly said words. I mean every 'I love you' that leaves my lips. I promise this to you."

Charles smiled a real smile, breathing out a sigh or relief.

"I love you too Max. I really do."

He tried to stand up, losing his balance again. Luckily, Max was quick enough to catch him.

"Do you want to go home?"

Charles nodded, as he stood up again, this time with the support of Max's arm behind him. 

As they walked slowly out of the paddock, his forgotten about feelings and thoughts flooded right back into his mind.

The whole situation practically replayed in his mind, the memory of Carlos' touch on his body sending a shiver down his spine. He began trembling again, head dizzy with wanting to forget.

Max could feel Charles shaking. He began rubbing circles on the Monegasques back, in order to calm him.

"Schat, breathe for me." Max said, as they exited the paddock.

_____

They quickly got back to Charles' apartment, Max staying in the living room while Charles took a shower.

When he stepped out of the bathroom, the lingering touch of Carlos' fingers haven't left his skin. He got into bed, curling up in a ball to get rid of the feeling.

Max knocked gently on the door, and after being invited in by Charles, he made his way in cautiously.

"Join me Max?" Charles looked at the blonde, who without hesitation sat on the edge of his bed.

"Everything ok?"

"Just tired. And stressed for tomorrow."

Max felt his discomfort, but didn't push. 

"I know that there is something more love. But you don't have to tell me, not yet."

"I know." Charles said, eyes closing as he relaxed in Max's presence. 

"Do you feel better now?"

"Yes, much better. Thank you for staying with me Max."

"Anything for you."

They cuddled in silence, Max's touch comforting him and washing away the stain of Carlos' touch.

"Max, did you really have the most medical experience out there?"

Max laughed.

"I get the feeling that they wanted you to stay with me."

"I am pretty sure that Oscar is qualified at first aid, but I can't be too sure." Max grinned.

"I'm glad that you stayed with me, not Oscar or Lando."

"Me too baby."

Sunday

This was maybe the first time that Charles ever hated the Monaco track. There were less than 5 overtakes during the race, sadly none between him and Lando. 

He was close to the Brit when Max was leading, pushing him towards Charles. But if he wanted to finish the race without risking his car, overtaking was near impossible. But Lando was making mistakes. It just made it worse, knowing that the win was there. It was all laid out in front of him, Max was pushing Lando back towards him, Lando was making mistakes and the crowd full of supporters. even the car was co-operating.

In the end, everything went to waste, as he finished second.

"Being second is being the first to lose" The words repeated in his mind.

But he did smile in all the interviews, since taking into count the results in Imola, he didn't expect a podium in Monaco.

 It did hurt, hearing the British anthem on the podium instead of the Monegasque and Italian.

He wanted to forget.

Never experience this again.

It was more painful than any of the other Monaco GP's he had lost, because this time around, he had it all there, and to add to that, he took the second step on the podium, being the first to lose.

He let the fake smile take over, laughing and joking with the others at the press conference.

He walked out of the paddock, getting onto his bike ready to cycle home, when he hears a familiar voice.

"I told you, Lando deserved the win more than you."

He didn't even turn around, knowing it wouldn't do any good. The sound of that voice brought back the feeling of touch that Max washed away yesterday. Charles tried to shake it off, failing miserably.

"Piss off Carlos." He said before leaving the paddock and heading home.

"If you say so, Charlie." Carlos called after him, sending a shiver down Charles' spine.

_____

 Lan😭

im havin a party later

u wana cum?

no pressure

no lando

STOP

I DONT WANT TO CUM

hahahhaha

yeah u do

ru gonna be there?

probably not

just a bit tired

its always overwhelming to race at your home race

no hard feelings lando

congrats on the win

yeah i get u 

just chill then mate

WHAT DO U MEAN

HARD FEELINGS

HELP💀

💀💀

have fun mate😏

what do u mean by "😏"

i will leave you to figure that out😏😏

😭😭

Wait

Is Max going??

😏😏

erm..

lemme ask

he asked if ur going

i said no

he said he isnt cumin'

oh ok

LANDO STOP THAT

NO ONE IS CUMING

haahahaha

ill ask you that tmrrw morning

ima be like a prophet

not a holy one for sure

😭😭

have fun lando

and dont cum

no promises

💀

Charles smiled weakly at his message exchange with Lando, as he wrapped himself in a blanket. His whole body was quivering. He rolled up into a ball beneath the blankets.

He wasn't scared of Carlos or anything, he simply wanted to forget about it all. His strange behaviour and actions. The race, the qualifying, his embarrassing blackout. Everything.

He longed for the feeling of security and carelessness again. Like on Friday, when he didn't worry about anything. All he thought about was Max.

He wanted to feel that way again. But more. He wanted the only word on his lips to be Max's name, to have Max completely wash away the feeling of Carlos' touch. He wanted Max to make his eyes roll back, to help him forget about everything, even if just for a short while. 

He wanted this weekend to be memorable, but not because of the race, but because of Max. He wanted to explore Max in a new way. He wanted Max to erase Carlos from his mind completely.

_____

A quiet knock on the door pulled Charles out of his day dreams. He got up and opened the door to see Max, standing in the doorway, hair messy, hand on his hip.

"I figured you wouldn't want to be alone on a night like this Charlie. Mind if I come in?" Max smiled as Charles stepped aside to let him in. Max followed Charles to the couch, where Charles' quivering hand handed Max half the blanket. 

Max took Charles' hand between his, and asked.

"Baby, why are you shaking so much? Did anything happen?"

Charles knew Max only wanted to help, but he didn't want to worry the Dutchman.

"It nothing, really."

Max could instantly tell that it clearly wasn't nothing.

"I know you don't want to worry me, but it worries me even more when you keep it to yourself, whatever it is."

"You won't judge?"

"I would never judge you my love."

Carlos' lingering touch was stinging his skin, the tingling making him want to throw up.

"Yesterday," He began slowly, "Carlos kept brushing his hands off my skin and - he touched me as if I belonged to him or something. And the touch stings all over my body, and it won't go away."

Max wrapped a protective arm around Charles, feeling how much the Monegasque was trembling. 

"If I find him..." Max muttered under his breath.

"Don't Max. There is something wrong with him. Its not his fault."

Max's eyes narrowed. "So you are defending him now? After all of that?!"

Charles was shaking even more now. "No, its just he isn't worth it Max. It will be fine if I ignore him, I think."

Max immediately calmed down. 
"Tell me if he does anything like that again, Charlie."

"I will. I promise."

He snuggled in closer to Max.

"Can I do anything to help you take your mind of it?" He spoke gently, primarily focusing on Charles.

Charles mind wandered back to his previous thoughts.

"Anything Charlie. Anything that will help."

Max's word gave Charles a little confidence boost. But the little boost was enough for him to let the words slide out.

"Fuck me Max. Make me forget everything. Make me remember this weekend because of us, not the race or Carlos." 

Charles looked at Max, eyes flooding with lust.

Max was slightly taken aback by Charles' request. Nevertheless, he didn't say no. 

"Do I have your full consent Charles?" he asked trying to act serious, when in reality, he wanted this just as much as Charles.

"You do. Please Max."

Max looked at Charles for a second, before he lifted him into his arms and carried him to the bedroom. Charles let out a slight yelp as he was lifted into the air.

He laid Charles onto the bed, quickly taking the spot next to him.

"Do you want to top or would you like me to top?"

"I - I never like - "

"Done it with a guy?" Max tried to help out.

"No, I never done it at all."

Max widened his eyes in disbelief.

"How - You would have queues lining up to even hold your hand, and here you are telling me you are a virgin?"

Charles nodded. "Is that ok?"

" No, no, no. Its fine. It's actually much better than fine. I will give you the best sex of your life."

Charles looked at Max, 'Make me forget' he mouthed.

 ***

Max hauled Charles higher onto the bed, pulling off Charles' shirt. Charles reached for Max's top, and with his help, managed to quickly throw it onto the floor.

"Charlie, if it ever gets too much, tell me and I will stop. Do you know the traffic light system?"

Charles nodded, to confirm Max's words.

"Use your words schat. Nothing is confirmed until you say it. I need to hear it, Ok?"

"Ok." Charles answered confidently.

Max climbed on top of Charles, pressing a sweet kiss to his forehead. He locked eyes with Charles, subtly questioning, as his hand reached the zipper of Charles' pants.

"Can I - "

"Yes Max. Please do..."

Max tugged gently at the zipper, pulling down Charles' pants  slowly, eyes taking in the view. 

"So pretty and untouched... About to be fucked for the first time." Max pressed a kiss to Charles' thigh, looking up at Charles from between his legs, not wanting to overstep. 

"Off?" Charles asked shyly as his fingers rimmed the waistband of Max's sweatpants.

Max assisted Charles in pulling off the sweatpants, pulling off his underwear shortly after.

Charles gasped as Max's cock brushed against his inner thigh. He couldn't keep his eyes off it. The nicest cock he had ever seen, long and thick. And it was on display, for him.

"Can you help me - " Charles started, but saying it didn't sound right. Instead, he lead Max's hand to the rim of his underwear. 

"Will you help me Max?" he asked quietly, feeling slightly awkward.

Max understood immediately, taking off Charles' underwear. Max rasped as he pulled away the clothing, pressing a kiss to the tip of Charles' cock. Charles moaned as Max stroked his cock tenderly, an arm drawing Charles in closer to Max. 

Max bit back a moan at the sudden friction. Charles didn't know what to do anymore. His mind was spinning, nails clawing at Max's back. All he wanted  was Max's cock inside of him.

Max, as if he read Charles' mind, reached for the lube on the bedside table, which seemed to have spawned there since Charles didn't have lube in his house.

"You doing Ok baby?" 

Charles nodded before saying lustfully. "Yeah..."

Max was spreading the lube between Charles' legs.

"You mind if I - "

He pushed two fingers in, scissoring them.

Charles covered his mouth with his hand, not wanting to embarrass himself in front of Max.

"No Charlie. Let me hear you. Let me hear the pretty sounds you make when I fuck you. Only for me, my love."

He pushed a third finger in, causing Charles to quiver.

Charles was hard for a long time now, as he looked at Max.

"Please Max... I need your beautiful, thick cock in my ass... "

"Hush... First time schatje, we have all night." He began to press kisses down Charles' shivering body, sucking a hickey onto Charles' lower hip. He continued down his thighs, eyes glancing hungrily at his cock.

He teased Charles' hole with his fingers, before kissing his way back up Charles' torso. He sucked a second hickey on Charles' neck, before colliding their lips together again. Charles instinctively rolled his tongue over Max's lips.

" Max, can I - touch your cock?" Charles asked unsurely.

"Don't ask sweetheart. You make me so hard Charles, did you know that?" they brushed their noses together as they spoke.

"Maxy... I never done it before..."

"Go with the flow, do what you feel is right..."

Charles gently reached out a hand, brushing his fingers off the tip of his cock. Max lets out a ragged breath, feeling Charles hand on his cock.

Charles strokes it tenderly, like he had seen Max do before.

"I need your cock, Max... Its so thick, beautiful, fuck me until all I can say is your name..."

Max didn't wait any longer. He thrust his cock inside of Charles, making him cry out on satisfaction. Max thrust deeper, placing one hand on Charles' cock, brushing his fingers against it. Charles melted into the mattress, rolling his hips to gain more friction.

"Ah...oh, yes... Max - fuck..." Charles blurted out, a sinful sound leaving his mouth.

"You make the nicest sounds while I fuck you schat. You are so pretty when I'm ruining you."

"More, Max..." He choked on a raspy breath.

Charles loved the feeling. It felt again as if their bodies were made for each other.

"Don't think anymore. Feel baby. Do you feel it?"

Charles definitely could. It was something he wouldn't forget. Max knew exactly what he was doing, his hands exploring Charles' body while he fucked him.

Max thrust his cock for the last time, before pulling out slowly. 

"Max, Max, Max...Max - " Charles repeated his name like a prayer. 

Max brushed his hand against the tip of Charles' cock, bringing a shiver down his whole body.

It was the last straw. Cum spilled out from his cock, leaving a sappy puddle of cum on his lower stomach. He gasped at the shock running through his whole body.

"I'm sorry..." Charles started, but was quickly cut off Max's cock doing the same.

Max pressed a finger to his lip, telling him to be silent. 

"Feel your body now my darling." Max got up after a while, leaving Charles alone with his thoughts. But Charles couldn't think straight. He only had one thing on his mind. 

Max's name...

***

After a while, Max returned

He lay down next to Charles, playing with his hair.

"I got a bath ready for you, you need to rest my love."

"Thank you Max. For everything. For this amazing night, for caring for me and for dealing with me. I love you Max." Charles' voice was still weak.

Max plucked him up gently and carried him to the bathroom. He placed him gently in the bathtub as he said.

"Thank you for trusting me Charles. Thank you for being yourself, thank you for thinking of this idea. I can't put into words how much I love you schatje."

Charles kissed Max tenderly before asking.

"We won't be telling anyone about us yet, no?" 

Max nodded. "We have to tell each other before we tell anyone else. Do you agree on that Charlie?"

"Yes I do. I want you to myself for now."

"Me too. "

They both laughed as Max clashed their lips together again.

Sunday

So it did pay off, in the end. Charles thought to himself as he took the P3 spot on the podium. He smirked to himself as he got handed the P3 trophy, gladly lifting it in the air for the team. Saving an extra set of mediums for the race paid off, even if it meant sacrificing his Quali.

Proudly, he sprayed Oscar and Lando with champagne, giggling and smiling with the two Mclaren drivers. He knew he was the only one to credit for this podium, the thought giving him additional satisfaction.

The race was chaotic, but Charles managed to use that chaos for his own good (even if it landed him in the stewards room later).

_____

He was indeed called to the stewards room in the middle of the press conference. He knew what it was about, but honestly he didn't worry too much. He felt no guilt, and rightfully so because to him, it was only a racing incident.

But Charles knew how badly the race ended for Max. He understood that the Dutchman could still be very 'feelings driven' after his 10 second penalty and his interaction with George. Max was probably disappointed in his team, for pitting him and pushing him into the whole restart mess. And Charles was aware of that. But even with knowing Max as a driver and a person, he couldn't be 100% sure of how Max would react or what he would say.

Max stormed into the room shortly after Charles, not even sparing him a glance. He sighed and looked at the steward sitting at his desk.

"Can we get on with this?" Max asked impatiently. 

The poor steward looked slightly shocked at the tone of Max's voice, but nevertheless played the clip of the overtake for both drivers to see and negotiate. 

Max studied the video carefully, eyes narrowed and focused. He stood away from Charles, who tried to focus on the video, not Max. As the video came to an end, Max said, totally out of nowhere.

"Charles shouldn't get a penalty." The stewards eyes darted from Max to Charles, who looked as equally stunned as he did. Max gazed at him with an eye piercing gaze. He finally turned to Charles.

"Do you agree?" Charles would've sworn his voice went softer, but at this point after a race, his mind might as well be playing tricks on him.

"Charles, do you agree with my take on the situation?" His voice was definitely softer now.  Charles looked at Max, the Dutchman turning away from him as soon as their eyes met.

"I agree with Max." He said simply, the tension in the room getting the better of him.

The poor steward looked shook after witnessing Max's cold voice, answering in a rushed whisper. 

"In that case - you can head back -" Both drivers listened without saying another word. They walked side by side in silence for a few minutes.

Finally, Charles broke the silence.

"Are - Are we still all good?"

Max looked at him, eyeing his entire body. He gave Charles a curt nod and whispered into his ear. 

"This isn't the place to talk." They walked down the paddock side by side, hands in reaching distance, neither of them brave enough to reach for the other's wrist.

"See you later, Max." Charles said as they reached the exit. Max smiled a tight smile at the Monegasque, watching him turn towards some Ferrari mechanics standing in the corner. Charles didn't turn back, feeling Max's gaze on him. He knew Max was in a bad mood, even if he was doing his best to hide it.

Max needed space. There was no point of constantly nagging him. Charles knew that when Max was ready to talk, he would come to him and talk. There was no point in pushing him to do something he wasn't ready for yet.

_____

Charles drove back to his hotel, mind wandering in between his thoughts again. He hated the feeling that had settled into his stomach after the stewards room. His heart was burning, wanting to talk to Max, needing to check in on him. Nevertheless knowing that Max needs his alone time.

 He didn't really even know if Max was angry with him. He had this bad feeling that he was. And he needed to know. The uncertainty was eating him alive.

But wasn't it selfish, putting his strange gut feeling ahead of Max's feelings and habits? Wasn't it disrespectful to force Max to talk when he didn't want to? Because has Max ever done that to him?

No. 

All Max did was help him when he was upset, caress him through his pain and sadness, and whisper words of reassurance and comfort into his ear when he doubted himself. That was what had always helped him in dealing with his negative emotions. Him, not Max. Max had his own ways. He had his own comfort zone that he doesn't need to be pulled out of by Charles. Max respected his boundaries, and came to help when it was what Charles needed. Charles figured he would do the same. Let Max to himself for as long as he needs, but make sure it's clear that Charles is there for him whenever he decides to call. 

He shot Max a text, before getting out of the car in the hotel car park.

Max❤️‍🩹

Hi Max

I know you probably want to be alone at the moment, but I decided to let you know that if you need anything, I am here for you in the same way you are always there for me. I love you<3

He rewrote the message many times, before finally settling on that configuration of words. He hit the send button hesitantly as he walked up to his room. He got into bed as fast as he could, wanting to block out his thoughts.

_____

After drifting off to sleep, Charles was awoken by an unexpected phone notification.

Max❤️‍🩹

can i come over?

Charles looked at the time.

 01:16

He answered with no hesitation.

hotel room number 49

the door is open<3

He didn't know for certain why Max was coming over at such a late time, even if he had his suspicions. He heard his door creak open slightly, the footsteps of someone entering, followed by the door being shut. Charles opened the door to his bedroom, inviting Max inside. They both settled on the edge of Charles' bed.

Max threw his head back with a sigh. He looked tired, as if he hadn't slept well. Or slept at all.

"Did you sleep at all Max?" Charles asked, concerned.

"No." 

It was a dry answer, but Charles could sense something deeper behind it.

Silence took over the room, neither person knowing what to say. Finally, Charles broke the silence.

"Why did you say that - that thing in the stewards room?"

"What, telling them you didn't deserve a penalty?" Max shrugged, not looking up.

"I told them my opinion, that's all."

"Oh, ok."

Charles looked over at Max, only making out his silhouette through the darkness of the room.

"Are - are you mad at me for the race?" He asked carefully.

"No."

Charles had enough. Max had woken him up in the middle of the night, after not saying anything to him for most of the day. And now when he was here, speaking as if someone forced him to come over. 

Charles turned to him aggressively, emotions switching over in near milliseconds.

"Why are you even here Max?! Are we just gonna sit there in silence and let all of our unspoken thoughts eat away at us as we sit here side by side in the dark?!"

Max, surprisingly, continued looking down onto the floor. Charles waited a few minutes, nearly losing it after 5 minutes of awkward silence.

"I needed to calm down, not talk. I wanted your presence, not answers. You help me calm down Charles." Max said. Such simple words, yet so deep in meaning,

Charles felt bad for overreacting so much. Even if he knew Max, there were many things that he would still have to learn. He looked at Max again, focusing on his facial expression. He seemed tired and let down. Let down with himself, maybe the team. Charles couldn't tell.

He lifted the duvet, inviting Max in.

"Join me?" He said, watching Max slide in next to him.

Max signed, predicting what Charles was about to say. "It's not your fault, schat. And I am not angry with you or anything, just mad with today's result."

Charles rested his head on Max's shoulder. "I am still sorry Max. I invited you here and put myself first anyway. I feel like a dick."

Max wrapped a hand around Charles, pressing their bodies closer together.

"You didn't Charlie. And you are not a dick."

"But I thought I knew you Max. And I feel so stupid now."

Max was breathing consistently, but in small gasps of air. He laughed cheerfully.

"You can't always have the answer to everything. And you certainly can't know everything about a person. I know you like having all the answers, but uncertainty is good sometimes too. It's fun and exciting, trust me."

Charles looked up at Max, eyes locking.

"What about you? If there's anything you want to tell me about, of course."

"Just this whole thing is a joke. Like first they tell me to give the position back for no reason, and now I find out that the FIA wasn't gonna penalise me anyway." Max rolled his eyes. "  I know I acted on my emotions, I know." He laughed sarcastically. 

"But that's just how it is with George. You let him pass and he complains, you defend from him he complains, you crash into him he complains." 

He placed a hand on Charles' thigh. "He doesn't know how to race me in the way you do." Charles could spot the fire in Max's eyes. But it was a good type of fire, not anything like the one he had seen in Carlos' eyes. It was a fire of love, of desire, of determination. 

"I want to battle with you on track, be able to come home afterwards and laugh about the silly mistakes we made, look at you on the podium and think 'this person is more than just my rival, they are my life'. I want to fight you for championships, for wins, every race. No one knows me like you do. It's you and me against the world Charlie."

He left a hickey to Charles' neck, making the Monegasque giggle.

Charles cuddled into Max's arm, thoughts swimming back into his mind. 

"What if we battle on track and disagree with the race result? What if racing comes between us?"

"We won't bring racing home then. We won't argue over the race because we will leave that at the track schatje. What we disagree on out on the track, stays at the track. Do you agree?" 

"I agree. Our private life is ours, and we can't allow racing to interfere with it." Charles answered without hesitation.

"And we can't tell anyone about this Charlie. For our own good."

Charles nodded, sensing the seriousness in Max's voice. 

He understood. Their careers were something they both worked hard for, and he wouldn't dare to put all his hard work in the trash, let alone take someone else down with him. Because racing mattered to both of them.

Peaceful silence overcame both of them, Max slowly drifting off into sleep. His arms wrapped around Charles as he slept, but the Monegasque was still restless. He couldn't help but connect Max's words to the promise they made now. Will he ever mean more to Max than racing? Or was it selfish to think that, after they both sacrificed their childhoods to be here, racing against the best in the world? 

To race in F1 was their childhood dream, and now, after Charles had achieved that, he wondered. 

What if fulfilling that dream wasn't enough? What if I never win a championship with Ferrari, let alone any other team? Will it all be for nothing in the end? Will all of that hard work scatter into ashes as I fade away from the world of Motorsport? What if I had been chasing something more, something bigger? Someone... 

He felt Max's familiar arm wrap tighter around him, sleep overcoming him slowly...

Monday 

Charles woke up in the morning feeling light chested and safe. He turned to face Max, who was sleeping peacefully next to him.

He was careful not to wake the sleeping Dutchman as he got up to take a shower. Walking up to the mirror Charles stopped, inspecting his neck. 

He smiled to himself, remembering last night. After thinking about covering it up, he decided against it. In the end, no one would notice that it was Max who so caringly left a love bite on his neck.

And he was sure it would cause a little chaos between the fans. A little speculation and guessing games wouldn't hurt anyone, wouldn't it? Maybe an AO3 fanfic or two for him to read undercover...

He rolled his eyes playfully and smiled fondly, remembering the feeling of Max's lips and teeth on his neck.

What he was sure of, was that he needed to get Max back for it when he woke up.

_____

After Max woke up, they had breakfast together. Max was in a much better mood than yesterday, but Charles was sure that if he was to see George or any member of the Red Bull staff he would still murder them, no hesitation.

Max's eyes finally wandered to the hickey he left on Charles' neck last night.

He opened his eyes wide, saying worriedly.

"Shit, Charlie... I wasn't thinking. Do - you want me to help you cover it up??"

Charles merely laughed at Max's concern.

"There is no need for that cheri. It's not a crime to be in love with someone, you know. And to be fair, no one will know it was you. We don't need to worry." He responded fondly.

Max reached out to hold his hand. "Good, because I love looking at you and knowing I left that mark there. Knowing you are mine. My love bite on your neck," 

He kissed Charles slowly, fingers running over the mark on his neck carefully. Charles wrapped his arms around his boyfriend, tilting his head to leave a hickey on Max's neck.

Max rolled his eyes, ginning at Charles. "You are a menace schat."

"I was simply returning the favour." Charles shrugged innocently.

"You are so annoying."

"Yet you still love me."

"Unfortunately..." 

_____

They both headed to the airport towards the end of the day, their flights 1 hour apart.

Charles posted a selfie from the airport on his Instagram, captioned: Adiós España!!

To no one's surprise, the chaos in his comments started almost immediately. Charles was watching it unfold with Max, until they had to part ways for their flights.

charles_leclerc Posted☑️

Liked by 154,320

CHARLES16WDC is it just my imagination or does Charles have a hickey on his neck???

  16forLIFE @CHARLES16WDC I think you could be right...

     CHARLES16WDC this is very interesting...

        Lestappen4ever lestappen??

           F1fan0843  @Lestappen4ever  You guys need to stop with the Lestappen

               Lestappen4ever @F1fan0843 don't agree, don't comment👍👍

                  16forLIFE @Lestappen4ever you go girl❤️❤️

the_goat16 Go Charles!!! See you in Canada!!

NUMBER1_SPECUTATION_QUEEN @CHARLES16WDC How did I not spot that??!!

     CHARLES16WDC @ NUMBER1_SPECUTATION_QUEEN hehehehe...

juSt_an_inChiDenT @Lestappen4ever lets pray🙏🙏

    Lestappen4ever @juSt_an_inChiDenT delulu is the solulu❤️‍🩹

Charlos1655 any charlos girlies??

    1655ismyreligion @Charlos1655 hereeeee

Happykitten16 Best of luck this season Charles❤️

FULLSTOP. I honestly love how the F1 fandom divided in the comments🤣🤣

NUMBER-1-CL-FAN omggg!!! our boy is finding loooove💕💕

   ANIME_AND_F1 @NUMBER-1-CL-FAN yessss❤️ I am so happy for himmm

      KPOP+F1 @NUMBER-1-CL-FAN I wonder who that special person is??😏😏

        Hahahahha😏  @KPOP+F1 Me too!!

Thursday

@landonorris Posted ☑️

(Picture of two guys making out in a club, people cheering in the background)

georrge and alex fourd LOOOOOVVVVEEE

Liked by 231,859

Charles' jaw dropped when he saw the post. It was crazy. Violating their privacy like that. Posting shit like that. And yes, Charles knew it was true and all, but spreading the truth wasn't an excuse for invading people's privacy. And from what he knew, that wasn't even Alex and George in that picture. It was just captioned with their names, which seemed to be enough to gain it so much popularity in such a short amount of time. 

Trying to find the key to the post's quick blow up, Charles eyed the post, his eyes catching on a small detail he hadn't noticed earlier. Something that sent shivers through his veins. The poster.

Lando?!

This had to be some stupid prank or dare .Lando wouldn't do that to George and Alex, or to anyone. Lando was the matchmaker of the group, the one who knew who would be good with who and so on. He wouldn't go behind people's backs like that, wouldn't he?

Charles wasn't even sure anymore. He was confused, because the Lando he knew wouldn't do that to anyone, especially to his close friends. And to make matters worse, today was media day.

The press was bound to question them.

He sent a message to George and Alex, reassuring them that they will figure it all out and to not give up yet. Next, he sent a screenshot to Max, who had already seen the news.

Luckily for Max, who insisted on coming over, Red Bull and Ferrari shared the same hotel. Charles didn't have to wait long to hear a frantic knock on his door. Max burst inside, pulling the curtains shut and locking the door before pulling Charles into a hug. 

"Thanks be to God that post wasn't about us."

Charles melted into the hug, breathing in Max's scent. The ocean waves overcame him, allowing him to sink deeper into Max's arms.

Max seated Charles on his lap, looking deep into his eyes.

"I don't know what I would've done if it was us schatje."

And he kissed him, slow but meaningful. Memorable. His hands roamed Charles' back as he pulled away, Charles chasing the kiss. They fell onto the bed, Charles gasping slightly. Max wrapped his hand around Charles, burying his head in the Monegasque's shoulder.They lay there, in utter silence, cherishing each other's presence while they could. 

They both understood the reality now. Of how easily something so well hidden could get out to the public. Of how even the most trustworthy people can turn their backs to them and cause unnecessary chaos.

Charles clung to Max, legs wrapped around his torso. He hated this. Not just because of George and Alex. Not because it proved to him and Max that relationships are something that need to be hidden away in the world of Formula 1, not because he learned that even his closest friends and co-workers can't be trusted. It was another thing. Something Charles feared from the very start. Something he knew.

And of course, he was also hungry for wins and championships. Probably more than anyone on the grid. Every driver wanted to win, to succeed, to be remembered. But Charles had a fine line between racing and his private life. In the sense that his private life always came before racing. His family, friends, relationships. For them, he would quit racing without a second thought. Because racing wasn't forever.

When he finished his Formula 1 career, he wanted someone who would be proud of him, someone who would be ready to take his back into their daily lives, someone who would be there for him, because he was there for them. And he knew it, without a second thought, that he would quit racing for Max. If it was him and Max on that post, and quitting would mean saving their relationship, he would quit. No questions asked. For himself, for Max. He would give up his dream, to go pursue his other ones.

It was with Max or not at all.

And this made him afraid. Afraid of love. If Max was given that choice, would he do the same? Or would he put racing first? Which one would he save? Him, or his career?

Charles never wanted to test that. He never wanted to know the answer to that.

So he cherished those moments he could spend with Max, curled up next to him, breathing in his calming ocean scent. Because even the smallest trip up could ruin it all. make the ocean distant again.

He dreaded the weeks that Red Bull and Ferrari weren't in the same hotel. Weeks he would spend only glancing at Max, nothing more. Scared to risk it.

Charles could feel the tears fleeing his eyes. He lifted an arm to try rub them away, only to be stopped by Max and pressed gently to his chest. Max caressed him carefully, his fingers brushing through his hair.

Charles sobbed quietly into Max's shirt, not wanting to look up.

"Charlie, schat. I love you, ok?  Even if we aren't together, you can call me and we will always see each other at home. I will always love you." 

Charles nodded, shutting his eyes. 

He had one unspoken question for Max, one sentence that could ruin it all. 

If it was us, would you deny it all to save your career? Would you choose racing over me?

And Charles never wanted to know the answer, knowing that it would hurt to know the truth. He had a need for knowing the truth, but this was one of those truths that simply hurt too much to unravel.

Max stayed with him for the whole morning, and Charles clung to him like a koala. He mourned their peaceful mornings in Monaco, their relaxing evenings. The small yet meaningful gestures they shared, hidden away in the paddock. But now, even those small gestures could be something of great interest to the media, as they learned from George and Alex at how seriously the post was taken. Charles read the comments.

"So thats why they always look at eachother like that"

"I swear i seen them holding hands at a race"

"I wonder how many other couples there are on the grid??"

"Thats wild"

"We probably would've noticed if we paid more attention, they were being so obvious!!"

"There were so many signs.. Goddamn we were so blind!!"

The fans were all on the lookout now. They knew what to look for, and knowing them, they would read into every small gesture. As much as Charles loved his fans, he hated having them constantly step on his toes. Everything he did, everywhere he went. It was all monitored by the fans. 

Charles loved racing, he loved his supporters. But sometimes he wished he could be a nobody again. To be free from the judgemental gazes of his followers.

He wished he could have normal relationships, without having to hide. He was painfully aware of how many drivers were put into PR relationships by their teams to create a good image for their drivers. And how many others hid their relationships and relationship status from the public. But in order to keep the relationship going safely, secrecy was key. And it pained Charles to think how many drivers had to suffer like this. How many of them got nagged to reveal their relationship status, how many public acts of love were either fake or hidden away.

Charles didn't want that. But he had no choice.

_____

The press conferences were a mess. The topic of 'relationship status' was taken up by the press again. Charles wanted to leave as fast as he could. It was uncomfortable for everyone, team principals, CEO's and drivers alike. But especially for Lando, George and Alex.

Obviously, a PR plan was put in place, which seemed to be George and Alex denying any sort of relationship and Lando claiming that his social media was hacked. It worked on the media, but only after drivers stopped answering their questions, telling them that it wasn't true and that they had nothing to comment on.

Eventually, thanks to Lando, George and Alex playing it cool as if nothing happened, the situation calmed down.The normal questions about speed and confidence on the track returned, but from time to time Charles spotted a couple of journalists whispering to each other, sneaking glances towards the drivers.

Every driver was advised not to answer any non-racing related questions, which they all seemed more than happy to do. They all seemed equally disappointed at the press for digging into things so deeply, for wasting their time with questions on stupid social media posts. 

But at least partly, each driver was grateful for the accident. They all got to see the reality of a small mistake and the consequences of even the smallest slip up. It was just another, but very serious warning, of not being careful enough. 

Friday

Fuck...

The wall... Of all places his car could've gone, it was the wall. The chassis was cracked, making the car unusable for the rest of the day, thanks to the 'One Chassis a Day' rule. In the first ten minutes of FP1, he put it in the wall. Another wasted Friday, but this time it was all his fault. 

He was beginning to get used to the 'Wasted Fridays' being the team's fault, but this time, the blame was entirely on him. He braked too late, and on a slippery track like Canada, each second made the difference of whether you were in the wall or not. 

He spent the time of FP2 looking over the data Lewis collected, taking in all he could.

At the team debrief, the team analysed his mistake in FP1. It was a stupid mishap, which only made it hurt more. Something he could've easily avoided, if he had been just slightly more careful.

He rolled his eyes to himself as he walked out of the garage. Lewis appeared next to him. 

"Don't overthink it too much Charles. Tomorrow is a new day."

Charles nodded. "I'm not thinking about that, to be honest. Mostly about yesterday."

Lewis smiled a weak smile. He went through all of that before. With Nico. No one knows, to this day, if they were really in a relationship, but whatever it was, it definitely hurt Lewis. The unhealthy rivalry, but also the social media rumours and the media's constant questions. It was all like a tower of blocks, the more you add to it, the more likely it is to fall over. And in Nico's and Lewis' case, the tower didn't last very long.

Charles continued. "It's unfair that they're constantly questioning us like that. I don't think they would enjoy it if we started asking them about their private relationships and families."

Lewis only nodded. "But secrecy has always been part of the sport, hasn't it? I don't think it would be the same without it."

"Sadly." Charles looked up to the sky. He wondered if Jules and Papa and Anthoine were watching him. Whether they were proud of him. Of what he was doing. Of how far he had gotten in life. He wished that they were still with him. That they could help him. But life took them away too soon. Too soon for his liking.

Lewis waved Charles goodbye at the paddock gate as they went separate ways.

_____

Charles was shaken. After everything. The rumours, the crash. All he wanted was for this to be over. He hated the uncertainty. Will the car even perform tomorrow? Will one Practice Session be enough?

He laid in bed, breathing softly. He was all alone, eyes looking up to the ceiling. 

And then he did it. He called Max.

"Schat, is everything ok??"

Charles nodded, eyes filled with sorrow.

"Use your words Charlie. Let me hear your voice." Max spoke softly, as if he was speaking to a child.

"Do - do you love me Max?" Charles could feel tears running down his cheeks.

Max looked like he was about to cry too. "Of - of course I do. Charlie, I love you more than anything in the world."

He paused. "Give me one second." 

Charles could hear Max fidgeting with something. A few minutes later, Max appeared at Charles' door, which he locked behind him as he came in. He continued walking through the room, before spotting Charles, curled up in a ball in his bed. He laid down next to him, bringing with him comfort and warmth.

"Schatje, I love you so much. We will figure this out, I promise. Here, do you want to fly home with me?"

Charles sobbed into his pillow, the sound breaking Max's heart. There was some other burden, heavy on Charles' fragile heart. And if Max could, he would slay all the demons and curses of this universe to see Charles smile.

Charles wouldn't say anything. He just laid there in silence gripping onto the pillow. He only stopped sobbing when Max kissed him on the forehead. Charles reached behind him for Max's hand, grabbing it and pulling it close.

And Max didn't push. He decided to be there for Charles, and try to figure out what was wrong on his own.

Sunday

A weekend to forget. 100%

Thursday's mess, Friday's crash, Saturday's P8 and Sunday's P5. 

He was glad to be getting away from it all for a week. A week at home. With Max.

Without the piercing gazes of his fans, the judgemental faces of his team.

 Therefore, he was very happy to be flying back to Monaco with Max. There were no other drivers there, of course (for safety reasons). Just Charles and Max.

 It was a peaceful flight, but very comforting. It made Charles question his assumptions about Max.

 Maybe he was Max's number 1 priority? The way Max held his hand at take-off, how he assured Charles that he can sleep safely, because he was next to him. And when Charles did doze off, Max's arm was wrapped protectively around him. When Charles woke up in the middle of the night, Max gave him water to drink in case of a bad dream. They talked passionately about their early karting days and their little battles on track.

While landing, Max buried Charles' head in his chest for comfort. He circled his hand on Charles' back to help Charles breathe when they landed. Max loved him, and Charles knew that. But was it more than racing?
_____
They parted ways joyfully, knowing that when they got home it would be just the two of them for a whole week. And recently, a lot of Max's clothes had found their way into Charles' closet and Charles' clothes had magically begun spawning in random places in Max's house. They didn't say anything though and the piles of clothes kept growing with every week off Formula 1.

 But even if it was a week off, it wouldn't be a normal one. Charles felt that something had changed.

And he didn't like it.

Monday

Max❤️‍🩹

Cheri can u come over later today??
i want to bring you somewhere special

Charles sent the message, a bittersweet feeling overcoming him. He felt it was the right time. He trusted Max and knew that he would understand. Because what Charles wanted to show him, was associated with how Charles came to be in Formula 1. How he felt towards their cruel but fulfilling sport. 

This was what, in a way, had shown him his dream but simultaneously proved to him what he had to sacrifice and risk for it.

At midday, like he promised, Max showed up at Charles' apartment. 

" So schatje, where are you taking me?" Max asked, pressing a kiss to Charles' neck.

"Somewhere really special to me. You will see." Charles smiled sadly.

Max sensed that this place really meant a lot to Charles, placing an arm around him in comfort. He understood that Charles doesn't open up to all people, so his decision to bring Max there is a great deal for Charles.

The car drive was silent, but not a stuffy, uncomfortable silence. A comfortable silence, a calming one. Charles liked it. It was those types of unmasked moments he loved the most. The ones where he could rip off his cover and allow himself to melt into his feelings. 

Because Charles was a person who felt a lot. And with racing, it was easier and more convenient to block them out and hide them, or pull on a whole new personality. 

Even a sigh could be taken as a sign of impatience or weakness. Something your rivals could use against you.

And with Max, in this calming silence a sigh was a human thing again. Tears were a normal response and anger was a natural feeling. Max had seen Charles at his worst, after Jules' death, and even if he didn't know what to do, he did what no one else did. 

He stayed.

And when Charles felt like he was being problematic, Max was patient with him, cuddled him, whispered kind words to him. 

It worked two ways. Max would do anything to see Charles happy and comfortable. He had witnessed Charles being screwed over by Ferrari over and over again. And even if he didn't understand why Charles hadn't left them yet, he was ready to be by his side through every obstacle Ferrari managed to put up.

Charles yearned for a place to pull off his mask and be praised for who he really was, not for the person he had to be in order to race and Max was more than happy to give him that place, give him the love he deserved. 

And Charles, even with all his doubts and intrusive thoughts, couldn't have wished for anyone better.

_____

As the car pulled into the car park, Max's eyes roamed their surroundings carefully as he made out where they were. He followed Charles in silence into the small shop at the edge of the car park. The place smelled like candles and flowers, but not in a cheerful way. The vibe inside the shop was rather dull and depressing. The type of place you walk into with your head low, because looking up meant you were too privileged to be there.

It had a singular small window that let in enough light, but the place still seemed dark, even with all the sunlight.

Charles bought two candles, a bouquet of yellow sunflowers and a basket of small red poppies. He paid in silence, Max following him carefully.

They walked out of the store, Charles' eyes went straight to the cloudy sky. He looked up, breathing deeply as he whispered. 

"I brought someone special to visit today. I love him very much. You would remember Max from karting Papa, and Jules, you wou - would too. He is very good to me, and - and we love each other a lot." Charles' voice was breaking the more he whispered. 

Every word he spoke was like another thorn pushed into an already open wound. Eyes locked with heaven, Charles felt an arm come around him and a warm breath against his ear, murmuring lovingly . 

"Charlie, love - come here..." Max cradled him close, watching caringly as Charles slowly lowered his eyes from the sky, turning to meet Max.

"Lead the way schat."

Charles led the way through the gravestones, thoughts spiralling back to his early karting days. Late nights, early mornings and hot chocolate on cold winter nights. High fives and hugs after wins, and even at his lowest moments, a trip to the ice cream parlour to cheer him up.

 And then that night, his father came home from the hospital after Jules' crash. 

Charles remembered how he spoke urgently to his mother, looking around constantly to make sure none of the boys were awake. But that night Charles couldn't sleep. Neither could Arthur and Lorenzo. They hid around the corner of the hall, waiting for their father to come home.

And once they saw the crumpled look on his face and the hopeless glint in his eyes, they all knew it was over. And even when their parents assured them that it would all be ok, thinking back to that look in his fathers eyes that night erased every speck of hope Charles had left.

Charles came to a halt suddenly. Rain was slowly beginning to fall. He placed a candle and the red poppies on Jules' grave and the other candle and the sunflower bouquet on his father's one.

He looked from grave to grave, muttering something in broken, rapid French.

Suddenly, he turned to Max, something between regret and fear in his eyes.

"I hate it - I hate that they will never be here - Here with us. They won't be part of our story, they won't be there through our lives. And.." he paused for a second, shutting his eyes. "It just hurts..."

Max could feel the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes too, as he watched Charles stand in the now pouring rain, his strong feelings of nostalgia and longing. 

No, he couldn't bear it. 

He stepped over to Charles, pulling him into his arms, shading him from the heavily falling rain. The graveyard was empty, apart from a couple of stray cats hidden away in the bushes. 

Charles looked deep into Max's eyes, tears and raindrops dripping down his face. He looked beautiful.

And Max, the man he was, kissed him.

Not a normal kiss. 

This one had meaning. It had passion. Burning love. The taste of something eternal that was slowly just beginning. Raindrops ran between their lips with every kiss. 

Their hair was soaked from the rain, which hadn't stopped falling for a singular second. Charles moaned against Max lips, tasting the faint and sweet raspberry flavour on Max's lips. Max cupped Charles' face in his two hands, eyes locked with Charles'.

And then suddenly, he pulled away.

"Fuck, Charles... I - I don't know why I did that. It's not the right place. It's just - " 

Charles pressed a finger against his lips and began strongly, even with his eyes being red from the tears. He smiled a small smile, and for the first time that day, laughed softly.

"No, I am happy that you did that Max." He paused and started again quietly. " I - I needed that." 

He took Max's hand in his as they stared down at the gravestones, rain pouring on top of them.

Charles' eyes were closed, his whispers being carried away with the wind. 

He hoped they would reach his father and Jules, in whatever strange place they found themselves in now. That they would see in Max the same person Charles did, and that they would love him in the same way Charles did.

Charles missed them, missed their smiles and their kindness, their understanding and love, every day of the week. He would give many things to see them again, alive.

And he had always felt alone in that longing and pain. He knew of course, that there were many people who felt the same as him, missing their loved ones, even years after their deaths. 

But for the first time today, he didn't feel so lonely. He didn't stand alone at their graves, head down, eyes closed, while he wished for another reality where they could be by his side. 

He had a companion today. Someone who took some of the pain away. Who changed the feeling from hurt and longing, to nostalgia and fond memories. 

And Charles, he liked it more like that.

_____

The drive back wasn't silent as usual. Instead, he told Max about the fond memories he had with them, like the first time he won a karting race, or when after a bad result, Jules brought him ice cream to the kart track. How they all celebrated when Jules got his F1 seat. How his father helped him learn and progress in karting.

Max listened in fascination, understanding how big of an impact these people had on Charles' life. He had of course met them a couple of times in his own life, having vivid memories of Jules offering him some ice cream in the summer and Herve thanking him for being with Charles after Jules' death.

He shared those memories with Charles after, who just smiled sadly, gripping onto Max's hand.

"I remember that. "

Friday

Carlos😎

Can we talk after FP2??

Charles stared at the message, confused. Why would Carlos want to talk to me? Doesn't he hate me?

But simultaneously, he missed being around Carlos. They haven't talked properly in weeks after Carlos pulled his unexplained stunts. Maybe he wanted to explain?

yeah sure!

come over to my drivers room after fp2!!

thanks charles

no problem!

Charles was slightly unsure, but decided to keep this meetup between himself and Carlos. Maybe everything will be resolved after? He had no idea.

_____

A knock on his door made Charles look up from his book. He was relaxing after FP2, trying to be productive.

The door opened slightly, and Carlos walked in. His steps were heavy, and his eyes lacked the usual fire. They were more like willow branches, drooping down to the ground. Charles invited him to sit down, and asked carefully.

"Carlos, what's wrong?"

Carlos sighed.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done all of that. It was stupid." His eyes haven't left the floor since he came in. He continued.

"Last night, Oscar talked some sense into me, and I - I just want to say I didn't mean to harm you Charles."

What Carlos was saying didn't add up in Charles' mind.

"Why then? Why did you do it Carlos? Because it really did hurt me, you know." Charles felt the control flowing to him for the first time that he was alone with Carlos in the last few weeks. he wasn't being harsh. He was being direct. He needed to know why.

Carlos covered his face with his hands, as Charles stared expectantly at him needing the answer.

"Why?"

Carlos looked him in the eye for the first time. A small speck of the fire that once was in Carlos' eyes returned. 

"Because I love you. I have loved you from the minute I joined Ferrari. You were my best friend, and still are.. but I just can't settle on that - "

And then, he did it.

Carlos kissed him. 

Charles blinked as he understood what was happening. He pulled away, looking at Carlos with not fury, but with pity.

"I love you too Carlos, but not like that. You are one of my best friends, and I wish you all the best in life, but this I can't give you. "

Carlos closed his eyes, breathing heavily.

"But why? Why Charles?"

Charles didn't think twice about his next words.

"Carlos, I have feelings for Max, and he has feelings for me. I can't do this . "

Carlos looked like his whole world had fallen apart.

"You and Max - "

Charles nodded. He didn't want to hurt Carlos, he really didn't. But sometimes the truth hurts more than the lies ever would.

"I am sorry Carlos... I didn't want to hurt you. You still matter to me, a lot."

Carlos looked Charles up and down.

"Is he - Is Max good to you?"

Charles nodded. "Yes. He is." There was no harshness in his words, no intention to make Carlos jealous. 

Carlos looked broken, his voice cracking as he spoke.

"That's good. I will kill him if he hurts you in any way. I'm just happy that you're happy." 

Charles knew that the last sentence was a lie. Carlos wasn't happy. He was the complete opposite.

"Can - I hug you?" Carlos asked quietly.

"Of course you can..." Charles answered, wrapping his hands around Carlos. Tears dripped down Carlos' cheeks down onto Charles' t-shirt.

"I'm sorry Charles. I didn't want this to happen this way." Carlos said as the hug broke apart.

"Don't Carlos. Don't say sorry. I am glad you told me."

Carlos walked out of  Charles' driver room slowly, not looking back.

And then it hit him.

What he said.

What he did.

Charles didn't deserve Max anymore.

Max was too good for him.

He kissed Carlos.

He told Carlos.

He fucked up.

_____

He couldn't tell Max. He just couldn't. Well, at least not yet.

Charles knew what he was like. He would crack eventually and tell Max everything, sooner or later anyway.

And he would tell Max right away if he could, not wanting to carry the guilt of keeping it from him. But he was afraid. Afraid of Max's reaction.

He loved Max so much, but he felt like with every second he was keeping himself from telling Max, he was failing him even more. But simultaneously he felt that telling Max would hurt him, and hurt their relationship. He wasn't ready for their first argument.

Charles raved stability in relationships. He hated uncertainty. He hated not knowing things. He hated the confusion. He hated keeping things from Max.

But sometimes, bad things have to be done. For the greater good.

Sunday

P3

A result he was perfectly satisfied with. 3 podiums in the last 4 races. If you told the Charles in China that, he would laugh at your face with disbelief. 

But it was a bit of a low set bar to have. To be satisfied with a P3. But it was as it was for the moment. 

Charles sent Max a quick text to see if he was alright after his crash before joining everyone else for the post race meeting. It felt awkward, messaging Max. Every time Max's name was mentioned, his mind turned on the buzzing thoughts again. 

Is it better that he doesn't know yet? Or is it worse? Will it hurt Max? What will he say? Did I fail him?

Because Charles broke a promise. An important one. 

Of course he did. 

When things get good, and life finally goes his way, he has to fuck something up. Every. Single. Time.

_____

The team debrief was boring, the only important thing mentioned not even being anything to do with him. It was something about Lewis wanting a different strategy or something. Charles wasn't really listening.

He both feared and longed for the minute he could finally leave. He wanted to see Max, to be with him. But he also feared it. Not Max, just the feeling of guilt he would feel around him. Guilt that was his own fault, his own carelessness. He didn't even notice as everyone began to leave.

He got up himself, only to be caught by Lewis at the door.

"You look distracted today." Lewis blinked at him.

"It's nothing." Charles shrugged as they began walking.

"It is clearly not nothing. You only said about three words in that room." Lewis patted Charles on the shoulder. 

Charles took a deep breath.

"I messed up. I said and did something I should have never let happen."

Lewis looked at Charles, nodding at him to continue.

"And.. I have to tell them, but I don't want to hurt them, or myself. But not telling them is eating at me."

Lewis thought for a moment before answering.

"What do you think Max would want you to do?"

Charles stood there petrified.

"How - "

Lewis shrugged, smiling slyly.

"Would he want you to let that secret eat at you and hurt you, or would he rather have you tell him, and help you figure it out?"

Charles looked at his older teammate.

With fear in his eyes, he began.

"You can't tell anyo- "

Lewis shut him up simply by saying.

"I had my own little shenanigans when I was your age, don't worry. I will be quiet like a mouse." 

Charles just stared in shock as Lewis walked off.

"Do the right thing Charles." Lewis called after him, winking.

_____

It was past Charles to understand how Lewis knew all of that, but regardless, it helped him make a decision. 

He needed to tell Max sometime soon.

But not today, Max didn't deserve that blow after his race.

_____

Charles went to bed nearly as soon as he entered his hotel. He threw on the first comfortable clothes he could find, and took a quick shower.  A quick glance at the clock told him everything he needed to know. 

10:00 pm.

He left his phone on the bedside table.

He didn't even turn it on after receiving confirmation from Max that he wasn't hurt in the crash. He wouldn't make Max have to deal with him after a bad race. He didn't deserve that.

Then, Charles realised that Carlos had been right all along. 

Max didn't deserve him, he deserved better.

Meanwhile Charles' Phone

Max❤️‍🩹

Charlie do you want to cuddle in my hotel room?  19:37

or do you want me to come over to yours??  19:37

you deserve it after ur podium<3  19:37

Charles are u ok??  20:30

where are you schat??  21:12

Missed call from Max❤️‍🩹

Missed call from Max❤️‍🩹

I'm coming over   22:11

Max didn't lie. He walked into the room (yes, Charles left the door unlocked) with a worried look on his face. He halted when he spotted Charles asleep on the bed, wearing his hoodie. He looked so at peace, breathing softly, yet Max could tell something was bothering him. He took a mental note to ask Charles if he saw him the next morning.

Max pressed a slow kiss to Charles' forehead, and left a handwritten note by his bed.

Schat, I love you so much. Please talk to me, I know something is bothering you. You don't have to do this alone. I don't know what it is, but if I could, I would get rid of everything that makes you unhappy. i will see you soon<3

- Max:)

Friday

P1and P4 in the first practice and P2 and P3 in the second. Charles felt a speckle of joy. Hope of a potential win even. But as far as practices go, they aren't a very reliable source of information on which car is fastest. Nevertheless, it was exactly what the team needed. To think that they're capable of winning.

Charles had always loved racing around Silverstone. He loved the raw speed, the high speed corners, the feeling of crossing the finish line here, thinking you have achieved something great. But to Charles' dismay, Silverstone never returned that love to him.

Last year, he finished P14 after a bad strategy call. He had never been on Pole here, and never took the highest step on the podium. Maybe, this year was the year? He had a strong feeling it could be.

_____

He called Max when he got back to his hotel. So far, they had been lucky in the fact that Red Bull and Ferrari shared hotels, and this weekend was no exception, but Max was on his way back from some PR sponsor dinner. 

Charles tried his best to act normal, planning on telling Max about the Carlos situation on Monday after the race. He didn't want to ruin the weekend for Max. And he was still unsure of Max's reaction to the situation.

 He tried his best to just push it all to the back of his mind and enjoy the weekend. 

"Schatje, how are you? You were flying in those practice sessions." Charles could hear the smile in Max's voice.

"Thank you Maxy." Charles blushed slightly at the praise. "How was the dinner?"

Max laughed. "You know how sponsor dinners are. A bunch of bullshit to be honest. It was super boring." Max rolled his eyes. "I would've given anything to get out of there and be with you." 

Charles couldn't wipe the smile off his face. 

That is just how it was with Max. When you felt down, he would lift you up, when you were afraid, he would caress you in his arms, when you were bored he would come over without a second thought. Hearing his voice gave Charles a fuzzy warm feeling inside.

Butterflies, some people called it. The warm and exciting sensation of love.

But underneath all of that, was a bit of pain hidden away where no one could see it. 

The fear of what was to come, what Charles promised himself he would tell Max. What if this was their last phone call, the last time Max made him laugh, the last time he would hear praise from Max. What if he messed up that badly??

"Was the food any good?" Charles asked, trying to take his mind off his own intrusive thoughts.

"It was alright. The pasta they served was horrific. I bet your Ferrari mechanics could make it better." 

"Probably." Charles said, more to himself. His mind was spiralling again. 

"I'm nearly at the hotel, do you want me to come over?" Max asked softly.

Charles blinked slowly. Wait, what did Max ask him?

"Charlie, do you want to cuddle?" Max asked again, patiently.

"Yeah.." Charles paid attention this time, answering quietly, in a mere whisper.

"I will see you then, ok?"

"Ok. I love you Max."

"I love you too Charlie."

_____

Max came into Charles' hotel room shortly after. Charles smiled at him, even with all the distractions. It was a sincere smile, a real one. Pressing a cute kiss to Charles' forehead, Max settled down next to him on the bed.

"Max, thank you." Charles began. "Thank -  you for the note you left for me last Sunday. The way you are always so good to me. I - I love you, Max. And I always will."

 It sounded like a goodbye, a final "I love you. 

And it was. Because Charles didn't know if anything would be the same after.

Max pulled him into a hug, whispering softly into his ear.

"Charlie, I know something is happening. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but I am worried. I don't want something to bother you and make you feel upset."

And this what hurt Charles the most, seeing Max care so much for him while knowing he ruined it all. He didn't want to break Max's heart, he didn't want to hurt him. But keeping this from him probably hurt Max as much as it hurt Charles. 

Maybe Max was better off without him, without the burden that Charles brought with him wherever he went. 

Maybe he really was the problem??

Max was always so good to him, so patient, so loving and so supportive. 

And Charles was about to tell him that he threw it all away because "he wasn't thinking".

Max cradled him close, his breath against Charles' ear.

He laid down, holding Charles close in his arms. Charles looked up, meeting Max's eyes. They were blue, like the ocean waves. But no longer distant and unreachable. They seemed close, in proximity of wrapping you in their waves, engulfing you in their waters. Drowning you in their love. An everlasting love, like the water in the ocean.

Max smiled, brushing his fingers along Charles' back in comfort. 

Seeing Max so calm, so vulnerable, so loving, was one of the most beautiful things Charles had ever laid eyes on. His smile was like a beam of light in dark times, his voice, a lullaby for when you can't fall asleep, his tender touch like a cozy sweater you wear in the winter.

It hurt to have messed up so horribly. To look at Max and wonder whether things will ever be the same. It was a simple promise, a small rule they were both to follow, to keep their careers going smoothly, to not risk what's unnecessary. 

And he had to do it. Mess up when it mattered most. Break himself, and potentially pull down Max with him.

Max, as if he read Charles' mind, kissed him on the neck and murmured.

"This has been the best thing that ever happened to me, Charlie. You and me, it's just so special. It's something I have wanted since forever, schat. And you, you're just so perfect for me."

"Maxy, you are a walking dream that I still can't believe is real. And like a dream - " Charles paused. " I'm afraid, afraid that it will go away, afraid I will wake up too early. Afraid that when I go back to sleep, it won't be real anymore." 

"Charlie, true love doesn't just disappear. True love stays alive through thick and thin, by your side, no matter what happens. It will always be you and me against the world, schat."

Charles curled up in a ball, his hand trying to find Max's. He took it in his hand, holding it close to his chest. 

He tried to believe Max, he really did. And it wasn't even that difficult, but gaslighting himself over and over again was. He knew Max wasn't a liar, but then again would Max say the same thing if he knew the truth??

Would he be angry at Charles, and decide to go on following his Formula 1 dreams? What would he say?

Max in turn sensing the discomfort in Charles' body, wrapped his free hand around Charles, caressing him slowly, helping the Monegasque's breathing slow and allowing him to peacefully sink into the land of dreams. 

The life that Charles had managed to build up around him, was like one straight from a dream. But as beautiful dreams can be, they are exposed to the smallest of disruptions. One small mistake is enough to create a landslide. Enough to end the dream forever, with no possibility of ever going back. 

Saturday

Charles was right, when he stated that he always managed to mess up when things mattered most. 

P6

When there was potential for Pole Position. It was always like that, when the team didn't screw up, he did. A lock up, a gust of understeer, a puddle on the track.

It was always something.

Charles really just wanted to relax. No media, no press, no stupid questions. He was just disappointed in himself and needed to let it pass before he snapped at the wrong person.

He dragged himself into the media pen, knowing that if he wasn't dying there was no way of skipping his duties here.

Other than for the team and for himself, he felt as if he disappointed the fans too. He owed them something spectacular for not giving up on him and Ferrari this year, but all he could do in a car with actual potential was a P6...

And that was what he said to the press. 

_____

Both Charles and Lewis qualified under the expectations, losing a lot of time in the last corner. It wasn't even the car, though a couple of tweaks here and there could be done before the race. It was their fault, messing up in the last corner and throwing away their Quali laps. All they could do tomorrow was drive a good race and try to scramble up onto the podium.

In the corner of his eye, Charles spotted Carlos and Oscar while he was leaving the Ferrari building. They seemed to be arguing over something, Carlos gesticulating like crazy. Charles simply looked at them, raising an eyebrow in confusion and walked away. He didn't want to talk to Carlos, let alone get involved in his arguments. And as for Oscar, he was mature enough to deal with his own problems. 

He didn't think much of it, if he was to be honest,  until Oscar caught up to him at the exit gates from the paddock.

"Charles, wait up!!" Oscar let out a relieved sigh when he saw Charles stop and look over his shoulder.

Oscar caught up to him in no time, turning to him in question.

"Would you like to go on a walk? I need to blow off some steam and no offence, I heard your post race radio." He gave Charles a small smile.

Charles thought about it for a second. It would be nice to blow off some steam indeed, and not over-burden Max with his emotions after his wonderful Pole Position.

"Yeah, sure. Let me just text someone real quick." He turned his back to Oscar, unlocking his phone.

Max❤️‍🩹

I will be back late today, I'm going on a walk with Oscar to blow off some steam in case you are looking for me

well deserved pole position Maxy. it was a mega lap<3

Thank you schat<3

i will make you some warm tea when you get back

 miss you❤️

💞💞

 Charles followed Oscar, finding himself in a small woodland area. It was beautiful, the shadows of the trees falling onto the forest floor gracefully in the dimming light. The breeze blew gently, lifting up the leaves from the forest floor and spiralling them in circles around them as they walked. 

The purple-ish sky added to the beautiful view ahead of him. This place reminded him faintly of a piano. Mysterious, beautiful, with many hidden gems and secrets. It brought him a sense of welcome and peace when first stepping foot here - Understanding that behind something as normal as a woodland, were many hidden secrets.

"Where did you find this place??" Charles finally asked, breaking the silence.

"I didn't. I just walked away from the track and here it was." Oscar shrugged.

They continued their walk in silence, both lost in thought.

"Why risk all of that? They're just so immature sometimes."

"And we can't tell anyone about this Charlie. For our own good."

"I don't know what I would've done if it was us schatje."

Charles' mind was clashed with thoughts, everything spinning around uncontrollably, giving him a headache.

But in all that clutter, it was those three sentences that hit him in the wrong spot. They all came with somewhat painful and confusing memories, memories that proved the worst. He didn't want to test it, didn't want to risk it. 

But in all this mess, he did just that. 

And now, he had to dig himself out from underneath the landslide he caused.

_____

Oscar on the other hand, looked calmed down. He was watching the scenery in peace, breathing lightly. As they came towards a small stream, they sat down at the edge, leaning against a tree.

 It was quiet, the only sounds coming from the blowing wind and an occasional hoot of an owl. He turned to Oscar.

"It's nice here, isn't it?"

Oscar looked at the sky. "Yeah. Very relaxing." Charles could tell he was only half listening.

"Is everything alright Oscar? You seem very - preoccupied."

Oscar blinked quickly, before turning to Charles.

"I guess you could say that. "

"Why? Do you want to talk about it?" Charles pushed, but not too far.

He knew how it was when something was bothering him. He could hide in Max's arms, allowing Max to take care of him. He was forever grateful for having Max to comfort him.

But maybe Oscar didn't have anyone to go home to, someone to cuddle close to when he was upset. Someone that was waiting for him with a cup of warm tea when he got home.

And Charles, he wanted to help, wanted to show Oscar that he wasn't alone in his worries. Like Max showed him so many times.

Oscar sighed.

"Do you ever get that feeling when you do something bad, that it will lead to something worse? Something you won't be able to turn around, because it will be too late. Something that will affect everyone around you and you will feel guilty, even if it wasn't your fault directly. Because you startled the storm clouds. I just get a bad feeling."

Charles smiled, more to himself. "It's like you threw a rock off the edge, and your small action created a whole landslide??"

"Yeah, kind of. But I didn't throw the rock on purpose, like I tripped over it and it fell."

Charles nodded.

"Do - You want a hug?" He asked carefully, not wanting to scare the Aussie.

"Please..."

Charles wrapped his hands around Oscar, listening to his breathing slow to a relaxed rhythm. Oscar rested his head on Charles' shoulder, continuing to take deep breaths.

"It will be ok Oscar, trust me..." Charles murmured, hoping he was right.

If there was one thing Charles was good at, it was comforting others. But with Oscar, he had to be careful not to overstep. He continued reassuring him, pushing his own feelings and problems to the back of his mind for Oscar's sake.

Once the hug broke apart, Oscar smiled at Charles, mouthing a small "thank you". 

Seeing Oscar smiling made Charles smile inside. He loved seeing others happy, especially after they just felt upset or sad.

They began making their way back slowly as the sky grew darker. The forest had a new feel to it at night. It felt like a portal, a mist between two worlds.

Charles stared at it when he got to the edge, watching the darkness overcome the trees like a blanket. Even the soft breeze stopped. It was as if the forest was taking a well deserved nap.

_____

As they walked back to the track, Oscar said to Charles.

"Thank you for coming with me Charles. I didn't want to be alone."

Charles smiled at the Aussie, patting him on the back.

"Anytime Oscar."

He waved goodbye to him as they parted ways.

 It felt nice to do something for someone else, especially as he had been feeling like an attention seeker lately. 

He returned to his hotel room to find a cup of warm tea on the bedside table and a messy haired Max Verstappen in his bed. He drank the tea in a quick couple gulps, immediately warming him up. He did his best not to wake Max, as he snuggled in beside him.

Laying his head down on Max's chest, he listened to his soft breathing, as if it was a lullaby.

Sunday

The race was a disaster. It was just straight up shit. There was no arguing, no gaslighting, it was just the truth. The sad and disappointing truth, but there was nothing you could really do about it, no?

Charles breathed a sigh of relief as he finally began driving to his hotel room. Honestly, nothing could make things worse for him now. He'd let down the team, the fans, everyone really. But the one that hurt the most, was that he'd failed himself. 

Again. 

George had managed to build himself back up from that strategy mishap, and Max from his spin. But Charles, he couldn't, and when things finally started looking good, Carlos tried to overtake him. ending in a position drop for both of them. 

Charles didn't blame Carlos, not for the position loss. They were both slightly at fault, and it was a racing incident at the end of the day. Charles didn't think much of it, if he was to be honest. He just added it to the list of things he had fucked up this week and moved on.

Max and Charles had planned to watch a movie in Max's room, giving Charles at least one thing to look forward to, as he waited for the dreaded Monday.

Charles walked up to Max's room cautiously, not wanting to mess up anything further. Worst case scenario, he would say he left something on Max's plane and has to collect it. It couldn't get any worse than this, couldn't it??

A notification buzzed on his phone, nearly giving him away. He cursed under his breath and silenced his phone not sparing a single glance at all the unread notifications. That was something to worry about later.

_____

Minutes later, Charles was tucked under a million blankets and snuggled close to Max, as the Dutchman turned on the tv.

After a small quarrel about what show to watch, they settled on some crappy romcom about two women wanting to fuck the same guy.

Charles was sure he recognised it from somewhere, and Max, as if he read his mind (again), thought the exact same thing.

"I swear I recognise this show from somewhere."

Charles nodded, trying to figure out why it seemed so familiar. Maybe he had seen it playing in the background of some family event? He couldn't remember. 

Relaxing his mind from the flood of thoughts he had had to deal with recently, he rested his head on Max's shoulder. It was late at night, but Max didn't seem to mind. He ruffled Charles' hair playfully and took his hand between his fingers to warm it up.

For the first time in a while, Charles didn't doubt his upcoming confession to Max.

Maybe Max wouldn't get angry?

Maybe he would understand?

Maybe he would protect him?

The sound of the last thought made Charles warm inside. It gave him that fuzzy, bubble feeling all over again. He liked the thought of Max protecting him. All his life, he had to protect himself, protect his hard worked for career, protect his reputation. Maybe it would be nice to finally have someone to protect him?

Max stroked his hand softly as he watched the movie, fixing the blankets that covered them both every once in a while.

Charles let himself get lost in his train of thoughts again. Because this time, they were all hopeful. All the best scenarios, the scenarios where his small mistake doesn't cost anything, where it doesn't cause a landslide. He smiled to himself, those thoughts suited him much more.

They also seemed much more realistic, if you asked him. 

But surely,  Max was never met with a confession like his, hasn't he?

Nothing was certain.

_____

The credits in the movie came on, and Charles, noticing Max was asleep, reached for the remote and switched it off.

His mind wasn't letting him sleep, swirling thoughts, no matter whether good or bad, did their best to erase the mere idea of sleep from his mind.

After covering the sleeping Max with a blanket, making sure he was comfortable, Charles reached for his phone.

It was on mute so he couldn't hear how crazy it was going.

He lazily scrolled through the messages, the most recent one being from Fred.

Fred Vasseur (Boss)

Charles, is this true??

Or was he lying??

Charles answer me...

OH MY FUCKING GOD

HELLO??!

YOU CANT HIDE FROM SOCIETY NOW!!!

Charles laughed. The messages must've been some sort of dare. He was about to scroll, but his eyes laid sight on one sentence.

Was he lying??

Who was he?

Charles raised an eyebrow in confusion. Nevertheless, he scrolled anyway.

The next message was from Oscar.

Adopted Son😉(oscar)

Im so sorry Charles

its all my fault...

this is what i was talking about yesterday

i knew this was messed up

Charles wasn't confused anymore. He was curious.

What were all these people talking about?

And why were they all apologizing?

He let his finger slide down his phone.

He saw it.

Suddenly, everything made sense.

He let out a small shocked sound, staring wide-eyed at what lay in front of him.

He clicked it, hands shaking, breath unsteady, fear engulfing him entirely.

It was a video.

He clicked play.

The setting showed an interview room, Carlos standing in the middle, microphone in hand.

Charles could feel his heartbeat rise, dreading every second.

An interviewer in the background started speaking.

"Carlos, what is it that you would like to tell me?"

Carlos looked at the camera confidently, a smirk appearing on his face.

"I was speaking to Charles - Charles Leclerc recently and I found out something you might want to know."

"Yes Carlos, please go on..."

There was a pause.

Somewhere in the background Charles heard a crew member whispering.

"We paid good money for this. He better not be trolling us."

Carlos rolled his eyes, but continued anyway.

"He confessed this to me directly, so you have no reason to doubt my words, that he is in an active relationship with Max - Max Verstappen, -"

Carlos was interrupted by the sudden gasps of the people around them.

"Stop! Let him continue!!" The voice from the beginning of the interview stated.

Carlos blinked slowly.

"Charles Leclerc has been fooling all the media that he is a single and straight man, and today, I state otherwise."

He looked Charles directly in the eyes, as if he knew he was there, and said.

"Charles, if you are watching this, you know why. " His eyes no longer had that confident look, they looked vulnerable, as if he wanted Charles to pity him.

"You know why, Charles." he said quietly, yet there was no sound of regret in his voice.

The video finished abruptly.

2 Million Views

642,000 Likes

Charles wanted to scream, to cry, to jump into a fire and allow the heat to kill him slowly.

He was mortified. Of all the scenarios he'd made up in his head, he didn't think Carlos would be the one to betray him.

Carlos loved him, right?

Nothing made sense anymore.

Charles let his hand fall, gently brushing past Max's hair.

Charles couldn't, he couldn't let Max see this. 

He couldn't let Max see him.

He was right. All he would do was bring Max problems. 

Maybe he really was better off without Charles?

Charles felt the tears fall, and he let them. 

At the end of the day, what could he do? His whole world just fell apart in the span of 1 hour.

But it was Max he worried about.

He thought about how much this will hurt Max, what it will do to his career.

He really didn't want Max to go through all of that.

He didn't deserve it.

And Charles didn't deserve him.

_____

Max yawned, stretching his arms as he woke up.

"Charles??" he called.

"Schatje, where are you?"

He stood up, pausing in his tracks.

He leaned over, spotting it immediately. 

He picked it up, and with shaking hands unfolded the note he found on the floor.

Max, I messed up.

I'm sorry.

I'm just not good enough. Everything I do, I mess up. When something as amazing as you happens in my life, I find a way to mess it up.

I don't deserve you Max. I'm not worthy of having a special person like you. 

So don't look for me Max. 

I'm not worthy of your love.

I will forever love you Max. But you deserve better.

Your Charlie

Charles

Max dropped to the floor, clutching the piece of paper in both hands as he broke down into a heart-breaking sob.

"Charles?" 

"Charles..." 

"Charles?!"

"Charles???"

"Char..." Max sighed, He couldn't get over it. That night, that letter. Charles disappearing without leaving a trace. Only that letter. The letter that crushed all the good things left inside of him. The letter that he'd been so addicted to lately. Carrying it in his pocket, reading over it each night, while wearing Charles' Ferrari hoodie. It fit him snug, like Charles' arms wrapped around him.

And the letter, was like an artefact. 

It was the last thing Charles had left for him that night. That night.

Max still didn't and couldn't bring himself to understand. 

Why? Because of Carlos? Because he was afraid? 

Max didn't know.

But whatever it was, there was one thing he avoided assuming for too long. One thing that had been put aside and not thought about enough. 

That Charles left in fear. In fear of Max turning into the monster his father was. That he would scream and yell and hurt, and throw it all away in the most heart wrenching way possible. And in Max's worst nightmares, the ones he hid away for so long, Charles left to throw it away first, to not unleash this strange and dangerous demon from inside of Max. 

Because somewhere deep inside of him, there was that darkness and selfishness and desire to hurt that he'd inherited from his father. Max feared it was too clear, too visible. Maybe Charles was afraid the news would trigger it. The strange and uncertain anger fuming out right at him, him and their fragilely built relationship/

Uncertain.

It was always the uncertainty that closed up Charles, like a key closes a lock. And Max, Max usually managed to open him up again, like a locksmith. Be Charles' anchor, his home and comfort. His safe spot. But at one point the lock didn't open. The key was stuck in it, keeping it shut. Shut so tightly, that no one could open it again. Not even a locksmith.

_____

As a young child, Max was always brought up to be selfish, to put himself and his career first, leaving no time for others. Saying hello, congratulating someone on a good race, giving tips or even helping them up from the ground if they fell were all a "sign of weakness and a distraction to his goal."

All friendships, girlfriends, and talking to visiting relatives at the track was all not allowed. And at any mention of "boyfriends" Max would get the belt. No talking to rivals, wishing them luck, playing football with them post race was all supposedly going to "lower his chances of getting into F1".

So Max obeyed, He simply stayed quiet and did what he was told. But it wasn't easy. He watched young boys play games post race, laughing and shouting playfully. He spotted young racers covering their eyes with their hands as if to hide quiet tears. 

He knew that his father was wrong, that if someone was upset it was part of your duty to comfort them. But it really wasn't just a random thing that changed it all. 

It was a random thing with a meaning.

Charles Leclerc. Sitting lonely under an oak tree, all others around him pointing fingers and whispering. It was true, Charles did look really upset by something, head buried in his elbows, his hair a mess and race suit still on. 

But Max knew it wasn't a reason to point fingers and sneer. And somewhere inside of him, his rushing teenage hormones teleported him next to Charles. He didn't know what to say, or what to do, so he settled gently on the grass next to Charles. He sat in silence for a bit, only broken by Charles' quiet sobs. As their knees brushed, Charles lifted his head slightly and smiled. A fuzzy feeling ran through Max as Charles lifted his head and wiped his eyes. "Thank you, Max." he whispered as he got up slowly, sending Max a small smile. 

It was after that day that Max never obeyed that rule again. 

He figured out that being nice isn't a weakness, it was a strength. That it gave him a fuzzy warm feeling and a permanent smile on his face. That kindness doesn't stab in the back like his father had always preached, but instead it circled with love, compassion and warmth. And after sitting under that oak tree, that fuzzy feeling became his favourite feeling. The gratitude in their eyes and the smile you put on their face made him feel loved and welcomed. 

Max was always willing to go unspoken lengths for others comfort and security. But as for himself, he was a simple man. All he needed was the close proximity of a loved soul. Just like that first time under the tree with Charles. 

It was like a drug. Especially if the end result was making Charles smile. Because with comforting, everyone has a favourite, and Max was no exception.

Wiping a tear from his green eyes. Seeing Charles safe and happy. Knowing whether he was safe and happy. 

But he didn't know. 

And it bothered him. 

Charles, his Charles was holding all his feelings in again, bottling them up until they overflowed. Feeling with each breath he is just a waste of space. Seeing himself as the problem. And Max wasn't there to tell him to breathe out. 

And yes, of course Charles could manage on his own, but Max worried. He did it all. He called, texted, emailed, sent letters, knocked, rang the doorbell. He did all he could. But calls were left unanswered, messages and emails unread, letters piled in the corridor floor and knocks and doorbell rings ignored.

Max wasn't angry. Again, he knew Charles. Once something gets in his head, it's difficult to get it out. 

Max was worried and anxious and... lonely.

He missed having a beautiful person laying next to him. Not just beautiful on the outside but with the most beautiful soul and heart. So pure, kind hearted and loyal, Clever and loving and the perfect amount of competitive. And he remembered the little things Max liked or disliked, the ones his father always ignored and looked over. 

And even if he did tell Carlos the truth, he wouldn't have meant to hurt them, or probably Carlos as well. But what Carlos did with that information was foul. It was the most fucked up thing Max had seen in his career. He hated Carlos so much. Maybe it was to distract himself from the fact Charles leaving was most likely his fault anyway. But in this case Max didn't care. What Carlos did to Charles, what Carlos did to them. 

He wanted to punch him.

Max did not care for the full story. 

Carlos put it all out in the open, he hurt Charles. He would deserve it anyway.

It really was those types of daily spirals that kept Max from doing nothing all day. 

Well them and his trainer, who took every available opportunity to send Max on runs, no matter the weather. And even when running in half drenched clothes, with sneaky raindrops trickling down his neck, the spiral of thoughts left him no time to breathe. 

It became his companion (alongside the letter, which he carried everywhere), his strange comfort in his mind, the only part of Charles that still felt real, still felt his. 

It wasn't that Charles had left his mind aside from this thought spiral, but more so that each memory of him had been blurred by that train of thoughts. Charles was more like a dream that had once felt so real, so vivid, but now it was as if he was seeing in thought a fog, as if it were all far in the distance, unreachable. But dreams could never substitute reality.

 He wanted Charles close again, wanted to see him smile, to hear his voice, his laugh, to get lost in those starry green eyes of his, to feel the tingle of love creep up onto him while listening to his wise and thoughtful words. He missed it all. He missed him. His Charles. he wanted to understand what he did wrong. 

He wanted to be next to Charles all through his life, be his support, his pillar, his safe space again. He wanted to fix what he had broken and pull Charles back into his life.

He knew it now, for a hundred percent, that Charles was and always would be, the love of his life, that he was with whom Max wanted to spend every day of his life alongside. Who he would fight for, no matter what anyone says.

Thursday

"Max!!"

"Max, over here!"

Max had tried his best at ignoring the media around him. He should've been ready for it, expected it, because it was obvious that every journalist would want to talk to him after the summer break. No other big news, like the announcement of the new Cadillac drivers dimmed down the news of Charles and Max. Because it's certainly not every  day that another driver outs two of the best drivers of their generation. Max knew he would have to make a statement, he was aware. 

He was Max. Known for never being too keen on talking to the media in general, so most obviously, telling the media about his private relationship with Charles, would've been far down the end of his "Formula 1 career bucket list". 

Wrong.

He would've loved to tell them all about it, if there really was a relationship. Because Max really didn't know. He didn't know where they stood, he didn't know what Charles felt, what he thought. He hadn't even seen Charles for a whole two months, let alone spoken to him, or kissed him. He wouldn't have known what to label it, he didn't know what Charles would label it. How he would say it in his soft voice, smiling as he caught Max's eye...

Max sighed, turning right abruptly to the press room, the crowd of photographers and journalists following him like baby geese.

"Max! Is it true?" Someone in the back shouted.

Max breathed in deeply, keeping a straight face. He decided to play dumb.

"About Checo and Valtteri getting seats in Cadillac? Yes, 100% true." he even managed a convincing smile at the end.

"No! About you and Charles?!" The same voice shouted a second time.

Max felt that coming. "Me and Charles have a healthy rivalry and enjoy racing against each other..."

"No! About your relationship!!" The voice began to irritate Max.

"Could we please return to the racing related questions and leave Charles and my private life out of this?" He found the shouting person in the crowd and pointed to the exit sign. 

"There is the door if you could please use it."

Everyone around laughed.

Their laugh sounded so wrong. So heavy and annoying. Charles' was light and pure... it sounded like an angelic choir, sent from heaven...
Max shrugged and stood up, grabbing his stuff.

 "Looks like you need a demonstration. Here," he stepped one leg out the door " you step out, walk out and never come back. Just like this." Max walked out, and shouted over his shoulder  "Go on now, write your headlines, I don't care. You won't make it any worse anyway." and turned right onto the path between the two sides of the paddock.

He closed his eyes, halting for a minute. He could see him, smiling, laughing, eyes shining as if they themselves were the source of all goodness in this world. And then he turned. Turned to face Max. Turned to run to him, turned to fall into his arms and never leave again. Turned to kiss him as if it was their first time, whispering something into his ear. Turned around and leave the hiding spot for good...

Max opened his eyes, and saw it all in front of him. But there was no joy, no sunshine, no smile, no laugh. Just a person standing in the distance, all goodness seeped out of them, drop by drop. Max's eyes lit up momentarily, and he called. 

"Charles?"

The figure was still frozen, a mix of fear and anxiety in their eyes, the feelings that had made themselves at home up there. Max started walking towards Charles slowly, stopping himself from running not to scare Charles off.

Max stood in front of Charles, locking eyes with him for a couple of seconds. The words seemed to slow down, just for them. Charles' eyes were just as he remembered, just slightly sadder, and more worried and more afraid and... They lost their spark. 

Max took Charles into a hug, resting his forehead on his own shoulder. 

"Max..." Charles' breath was unsteady, his breathing coming out in gasps. The Monegasques hands found Max's, clinging on tightly, drawing little shapes on the palm.

"Charles..." Max breathed into his ear, trying to calm the now shaking Ferrari driver. Overwhelmed.

Max squeezed Charles' hand tighter in support, as he breathed warm words against Charles' neck.

"Charles, I..."

Charles pulled back abruptly, meeting Max's eyes again.

"I'm sorry." He whispered softly, a tear curling in his eye. He quickly wiped it away with his sleeve. He lowered his head in shame.

Max took his wrist gently in his hands. He lifted Charles' head up slightly, meeting his eyes with a pleading look.

"Don't be." he fidgeted with Charles' hand a little before continuing. " Just tell me why. Charlie...Charlie, my love... I will fix it. I will fix me, for you." Max's eyes met Charles with one desperate look. "I want you, and I always will."

Charles untangled his hand from Max's grip. He lowered his head once more, as if to hide tears, and turned around ready to leave.

"Don't fix yourself Max, there isn't a singular thing to fix. But don't waste your time on me. Focus on more important things, believe me Max. I am just not good enough for you." His voice sounded broken, colourless. As if he was keeping in sobs.

And with that he was gone, disappeared around the corner without a trace.

"Charles, No-"

Max was torn inside. He wanted to follow Charles, to find him and kiss him until he couldn't breathe any longer, tell him he is the important things, tell him he is perfect, tell him he's all Max could've ever wished for. 

But simultaneously to find the person who did that to Charles, who called him not good enough, who made him doubt. He wanted to end them, give them a taste of their own medicine. He didn't smirk, didn't laugh to himself. It was a straightforward thought, but one full of passion. Full of disgust.

 Carlos Sainz, you are dead to me.

Friday

Friday, another day in hell. His mind was torn into a thousand pieces. Avoiding the media and their questions, worrying about Charles, wanting to kill Carlos and actually trying to focus on his job.

He smiled a weak smile to himself. He was lucky enough that the team wasn't asking too many questions and was letting him manage the situation without coming up with some "genius" PR plan. He knew he would eventually have to make a statement to the team, but Laurent was surprisingly giving him a lot of time. And on the topic of Laurent, Max thought it was good to get a change in management, new ideas, new minds, all beneficial for the team.

He hadn't actually put much thought onto that, but what he had thought he found was enough. And so far the team was recognising that this was his own private situation, trying not to get involved too much.

 Max was deeply glad they were all minding their own business.

_____

FP! and FP2 weren't very beneficial for the team, giving them not many topics to discuss with their drivers. Max was grateful they were let go early, feeling everyone's eyes on him when Laurent asked if anyone wanted to add something to the discussion.

He played a game of FIFA in his driver's room, and decided to go outside for a stroll around the paddock before going home.

 He finally breathed a sigh of relief after leaving the Red Bull garage. Each mechanic, strategist or ever PR team member had seen the clip by now, all waiting for Max to explain. He could tell that they were curious, even though they didn't ask any questions. The way they whispered to each other, pointing fingers and staring at him as he came into the room. He always noticed it, even when he least wanted to. It got overwhelming after a bit, the looks of suspicion and hushed whispers whenever he walked by.  

Outside, it was even worse. People were shouting at him as he walked towards the exit, dumping his idea of going on a walk the minute he heard the first voice asking him about Charles. He signed a couple of caps and books, mostly belonging to kids, which he had always prioritised when it came to signing stuff. The rest of the shouting people had to survive without an autograph. He didn't care.

_____

Honestly, he had never felt so free after leaving the paddock. He had enough of all the people sticking their nose into his business. But most of all, he was worried about how Charles was handling it. He remembered his brightless eyes and tired gaze. And how he was so mentally drained, hating himself. Charles always struggled with his mental health, but Max had always tried to check on him as much as possible, give him a supportive hand or a cozy hug. 

But now, Max was afraid to overstep. Charles had pushed him out of his life, believing Max deserved better, thinking he was doing the right thing. But unintentionally, he was hurting himself, and Max even more. Max wanted to help, he really did, and was willing to do anything he could in order to help Charles.

But he would have to start from scratch. He would have to put his feelings aside in order to prioritise Charles. Help him, and slowly show him that he was more than good enough to Max. And he was willing to do that. Charles mattered to him more than anything. More than racing, more than being publicly outed. Really, he didn't care as long as he still had Charles.

But he didn't know if Charles felt the same. Maybe it was different for him, as a Ferrari driver, still to win a Championship. He never really asked, but decided that staying closeted was the best for both of them at that moment. God how he'd wished he didn't do that...

_____

While driving, he called his mother. He hadn't done so in a while, and - as much as he hated to admit it - he needed her wise words and advice.

To his relief, she answered straight away.

"Max!! Ik heb je gemist! Is everything ok?"

"I missed you too." He smiled. "I have something to tell you mom. It's very important to me."

 "Go on..." she spoke calmly, ready to listen.

Max took a deep breath. "I'm gay." He held his breath, waiting for her answer. 

There was silence for a couple of seconds. But once she spoke, you could hear the pure joy in her voice.

"Max, I am very proud of you. My little boy finding himself and telling me about it. I am so glad you chose to trust me, and I fully support you."

Max smiled a real smile for the first time in days. "Thanks mom."

"Is there a lucky man?" She asked, speaking with pride and interest.

He sighed. "That's why I'm calling. I need your help..."

"Did something happen?"

"Well, kind of. Can I come over?"

"Yes of course love. Come on over and we can talk this out, ok?"

"Yeah. Thank you mom."

"Anytime Max. Now drive safely and come over as quickly as you can."

"Bye mom."

"I'll see you soon Max."

As they hung up, Max breathed a sigh of relief that his mother didn't read any Formula 1 news or gossip. She had always tended to stay away from that, knowing that the media like to twist things just to make the reader more intrigued. He was glad to have a mother like his.

_____

After about 2 hours he finally parked in front of his moms family home.

The doors already opened, with his mom welcoming him inside. He hugged her tightly as he walked inside. 

"I really missed seeing you mom. You should come to more races." He smiled.

"Now, now." she patted a spot on the couch, "sit and tell me what's been going on."

Max took a deep breath in, resting his head on his mother's shoulder.

"I... I don't really know where to start." he admitted.

She smiled at him and answered. "Start from the start. Tell me who this special man is first, my curiosity is getting the better of me."

Max looked her in the eyes. "It's Charles, Charles Leclerc." He looked at her for encouragement and continued. "It was great at the start, the perfect life. It was all I wanted. And he wanted it too.  But then stuff happened. Like I don't even really know, but someone else found out about us and..." he paused.

 "Outed us to the media. And Charles, he always struggled with mental health a bit, as in that having to hide his emotions and pretend to be happy was really overwhelming for him. He's a really good guy, trust me mom. But that someone was really bad to Charles, making it so much worse for him. And one day Charles told him about us, in the spur of the moment. I don't really know the exact story, but Charles blamed himself really badly for the whole thing and felt guilty for it  and..."

His mom pulled him in closer, cradling him in a motherly way. He could feel the tears coming, but reaching into his pocket he managed to pull out the letter, and handed it to her.

She read it in silence, nearly in tears herself as she was finishing.

"Max, hey. Schat, look up at me..."

Max raised his head slightly from her chest.

"Are there any more parts to the story, or do you want me to talk now?"

"It's just... I think I'm in love with him. I can't stop thinking about him. And when he cried on my shoulder in the paddock, just seeing him like that, I wanted to hold him and never let go, make him feel safe and wipe away all his tears. He was shaking, and sobbing and I just wanted to take all that pain away from him. Then he said that I should focus on the important stuff, that he doesn't deserve me, and he apologised for crying. And all I wanted was for him to know that he is the important stuff, and that he is all I ever wanted. He looked so broken, so alone. He doesn't deserve that. And all I want for him is to love himself for the person he is...."

He buried his head in her motherly arms again, listening to her voice softly speaking.

" Max, this, what you are doing right now, this is true love. You really do care for him, and I am so proud that my son is so good to people he loves. And believe me, Charles only left out of true love as well, thinking that you, as a person deserve the greatest person in the world. But to you, he is that greatest person. And to him, you are a treasure, the greatest thing that ever happened to him. He just doesn't recognise that you feel the same way towards him as he feels towards you. But you are correct. He needs someone to support him, someone who cares. He loves you, but isn't letting himself to feel things towards you, and the only person that can help him with that is you Max. And so far, you are doing well, very well and I am really proud of you." she hugged him, kissing him on the forehead softly.

_____

"Mom, how do you know all of this?" Max asked after a bit.

She laughed. "Moms just know stuff, you know? And old friends from Monaco also help an awful lot." she winked at him, leaving Max still as confused as ever.

Sunday

P2 in his home race really wasn't a bad result, if you look at the state of the car. Max was pretty happy with his result, knowing that P1 was unreachable with the speed of that Mclaren. Lando's DNF was an unexpected, but welcome surprise, giving everyone in Red-Bull a boost of confidence, finding a weakness in the undestructable Mclaren.

After watching the replay, he couldn't help smiling at the move Charles pulled on George. It was a great one, leaving George with nothing to complain about (Max ignored the fact that the Brit complained anyway, to which he rolled his eyes). He really wanted to stand next to Charles on the podium again, to see him smile at a good result. But each race weekend, it seemed as if only one of them could get a good result of some form.

And after his DNF, his worries about Charles got worse, more intense. His head was heavy with worries and the thoughts of hugging Charles again. He wanted to hold him and whisper kind words to him again. Kiss him and run fingers through his hair... But Max understood that he needed to go slow, and show Charles everything again, slowly. He knew this would be a test, a trial for his love. Not only his love, but how to put his love to the side for the sake of Charles. 

_____

In his hotel room, he began writing a letter. He figured a letter would be a good start, showing that he cared and was willing to give up his time for Charles. It was difficult, he admitted. Max was never much of a writer in school, (well he rarely ever went to school anyway) but he was satisfied with his final result, even if it was a little short. Everything said in the letter was true. He meant every singular word. Because Charles was worth every word, every letter, of every love letter ever written, and all Max wanted to do was write more. Now all left to do was to deliver it to Charles.

Luckily, he knew where Ferrari was staying, and because he was a celebrity in the Netherlands ( and because he slipped the worker a 100 euro), the letter was delivered to the exact hotel room he needed.

The perks of fame, he guessed.

_____

That night, he went through all his drafts of the letter, stopping on the last one, the one that was rewritten and sent to Charles.

Dear Charles,

I miss you schatje. You were always (and still are) a significant part of my life.

I just wanted you to know that you can always turn to me if you need help. A cuddle, someone to stay over for the night, someone to talk to. Anything.

Just ask, and I'll be there. 

And please don't think you are a burden or anything. Because you are not Charles. You are an amazing person and a kind soul, one like I've never met before. And you deserve everything in the world. 

You don't deserve the pain schat. So please text me, or call me, or anything. Just let me know Charlie and I'll be there.

Max:)

PS: Your overtake on George was one of the best I"ve ever seen❤️

And that night, he imagined Charles, reading his letter, and smiling for the first time in weeks. 

And all I will add, is that his dreams weren't too far off;)

Friday

"It was for the best." Charles said to himself, as he watched Max enter the paddock through the window of his driver's room. 

He smiled weakly to himself. He was (well at least "was trying to") putting together a response to Max's letter, but couldn't get a single idea down on paper. "Writer's Block", was supposedly the name for it

All he had been doing curled up on his small chair, was biting onto the lid of the pen he was supposed to be introducing to his paper, and rereading Max's letter clutching it tightly(as if it was the holy grail). 

Frustration flooded over him, as he finished rereading Max's words for the 700th time. The words were simple and easy, but got through the right message. That Max wanted to be there for him no matter what. To support him and love him no matter what. 

But Charles, Charles was aiming for something else in his letter. He wanted to explain how he couldn't stand burdening Max again with all his darkness and worries. How Max that he already owed him so much, with no way to ever pay him back.

How Max was freed now, that he was no longer burdened with Charles' wellbeing, that he could finally go after the things he really wished for, like beating the Championship record and becoming the greatest F1 driver. Things that were his dreams, not useless burdens he had to drag around everywhere. 

To explain to Max why he walked away, why he untied the rope, instead of letting it untie on its own. And to answer all the unanswered questions, to resolve all the tension. To let Max move on (because Charles knew he would be stuck on this for a looong time).

To explain to Max that he doesn't deserve this type of love, because all he ever does is mess it up. And it's him messing up that always ruins everything, and how he hates making people angry and disappointed in him. And how Max deserves someone so much better, who gives more instead of taking and not being able to return.

All of that in one letter.

He looked from the letter to the page and back again, took up his pen and slowly began to write. It was as if he was suddenly sparked with an idea. His hand moved smoothly across the page, with each word being stained into the blank page.

Each pause, each comma, each full-stop was marked with passionate grief. Each new sentence began with a muffled sob as the words got deeper and deeper. Small droplets began to appear on the page, smudging the words and creating little ink puddles. 

It was like art. A painting in process. Each drop meaning something different, each word written with something deeply personal in mind. Every sentence starting and ending in its own special way. And no scribble was a mistake, but instead, a scrapped thought or idea Charles thought it was too early to share with the world. 

The words forming on the page quickly became sentences, and sentences turned into paragraphs. And after a while, those paragraphs steadily became a note, then a letter. Charles would've smiled to himself at his progress, if his lips and mind allowed him to. He lifted his pen to sign the bottom slightly.

"BANG"

His door was bashed down with a thump. Charles jumped up from his seat, quickly sliding his letter underneath a nearby book in shock. Fred walked in, visibly cross, not making eye contact with Charles.

"Downstairs, private meeting in my office. NOW." Charles stared wide eyed at his door, which was chilling on the ground, with a couple of splinters sticking out here and there. What could he do, really? He shrugged and carefully stepped over the door to head downstairs for his meeting with Fred. But not only his door took damage, his extreme focus on the letter shattered within seconds, as that was his best attempt yet.

Charles stood in front of Fred's office, knocking politely, trying his best to play calm. Shortly, the door opened revealing Fred himself sitting on his chair, reading something that seemed to look like a contract. Without looking up, he gestured towards a spare chair and watched Charles sit down opposite him. By now, he put the contract down (Charles confirmed that it was indeed just that). 

Before Charles could manage to speak, Fred, who was known for not doing bullshit, got straight down to business.

"Charles, there is that rumour going around. You know which one." He gave Charles one of his looks. Of course Charles knew which one. "Is it true?"

Charles tried playing cool and innocently asked. 

"What rumour, Fred??"

Supposedly, this was a bad move as Fred rolled his eyes. 

"Charles, I am here saving yours and our team's reputation. Don't lie to me. Are you..." he looked at Charles again, a bit more of a disappointed look this time "gay?"

Charles nearly burst out laughing, with how his boss spoke throughout the sentence. But quickly, his face serioused, realising where this was really leading. 

He remembered the day Fred and Lewis teased him for talking to Max and blushing, but obviously there was a big difference between joking about being gay and being gay. 

Welcome to Ferrari Charles.

"I asked a question, Charles... I don't have all day."

Feeling the tension in the room rise, Charles quickly put together a quick lie.

"No, I am not gay. What in the world would make you think that?"

Fred  signed, looking at Charles as if he could see through his lies. Charles meanwhile, could feel his leg tapping under the table, worried about what would come next. Uncertainty

"You are being very difficult today Charles. I will ask again, and I won't be nice about it. Are you in a relationship with Max Verstappen, and if you say yes, I'll rip up your contract."

Fred looked at Charles, expecting a reaction. Charles knew him, and gave no reaction, even though his tapping foot sped up and his fingers began to fidget with his sleeve. He cautiously waited for what was to come, expecting the worst.

He watched Fred open his desk shelf, taking out a speaker looking thing. It looked old, like it had been through a lot. Charles raised an eyebrow, eyeing the piece of old technology suspiciously.

And then it hit him. A lie detector. A fucking lie detector.

So there was a catch. He couldn't just say no and get over it.  Fred placed it in front of him impatiently, waiting for Charles to move.

Wow. He had been a part of this team for over 6 years, and never in his life did he see Fred, or any other team principal pull out a lie detector, so broken it could probably electrocute you if you touched it.

Never.

But without having much of a choice, Charles placed a careful hand on the machine, and gripped it firmly to hide how much his hands were shaking. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak.

But no words came out. The right words weren't there. What if he said no, and the lie detector stated otherwise? Or what if he said yes and it denied? Honestly, he didn't even know what he wished for the lie detector to state. Because one small lie detector won't change him to be good enough for Max? 

No?

Fred's voice brought him out of his trance.

"Leclerc. Hurry up! I have got better things to do..."

Charles looked at him in hidden shock. "Yeah." He thought. "I wonder what's more fun then blackmailing your driver with a lie detector and ripping up their contract?"

Fred shook the contract in front of his eyes impatiently.

"Go on or this" he lifted up the contact in one hand, "is gone. Make up your mind Leclerc..."

Charles knew Ferrari were a little quirky with their way of dealing with in-team issues, but all of this was just so crazy and bizarre to Charles that he nearly fell off his seat. Fred was still eyeing his body language, still avoiding his direct gaze. He made sure to monitor every single small twitch of Charles' lips, each movement of his fingers knocking along the table.

Finally, Charles decided to speak, choosing to say the worst and hope for the worst.

He took a deep breath.

"No." he said, as confidently and as convincingly as he could, waiting for the acknowledging beep of the lie detector in worry.

"Finally... Took you long enough..." Fred rolled his eyes. 

Charles didn't care what Fred said or did. He just wanted the damned thing to finally beep, and make it all over.

Fred sighed. He smashed the lie detector against the table a couple times until it let out a small and broken accepting beep. And hearing that, hearing what was meant to bring comfort to his chest, did the exact opposite. His heart winced at the sound and at the smirk on Fred's face. At least his contract was safely placed on Fred's desk again.

He looked at Charles as if they were old mates and laughed as if it were completely sane to test people with lie detectors and blackmail them in order to decide whether they were in a gay relationship. 

"Good, good Charles. I had to know where your loyalties lied." he chuckled.

Charles smiled innocently, not wanting to allow his emotions to get on top of him.

Fred turned to him once more, and said.

"Also Charles, before we part ways, we need you to put out an official statement before Azerbaijan so you can race. Best of Luck!"

And with that, Fred strolled casually out of his office, dismissing Charles on his way out.

Charles stared at him wide-eyed. He flipped him off behind his back and walked out of the office, heading towards his driver's room.

So, as it turned out, Fred was a homophobic dickhead who used lie detectors to determine whether he kept his drivers. Wow.

______
Charles quickly made sense of his mixed feelings. With everything being said and done, he wished that the lie detector was broken, even though it was probably a matter of luck on what answer you get. Usually, Charles didn't even think twice about those types of things, dismissing them without a second thought. But today was different. Even a clearly broken lie detector that possibly lied more than told the truth was making him doubt. 

Doubt what exactly?

Charles didn't even know.

Did he even break-up with Max, or did he just walk away? Do supposed "exes" fall apart in each others arms, crying about their break-up? Do "exes" still love each other, still look for each other in crowds and endlessly pine for one another? He didn't necessarily think so, yet did all of that without thinking twice. He was stuck in a hurricane of emotions. Unexplained and untalked about emotions. And a lot of questions, a lot of unanswered questions.

_____

With a couple of minutes to spare, Charles sat back down to continue his letter. He lifted up the book covering the piece of paper. But just as if it couldn't get any worse, the letter seemingly grew legs and got lost. He took a couple of minutes to speed-search the room, but after that unsuccessful attempt, he gave up and thanked God he didn't have the chance to sign it yet. So supposedly, there was now a love-letter to Max Verstappen hurtling around the paddock like a dry autumn leaf.

Now, it definitely couldn't get ANY worse...

_____

Carlos😎

(photograph of Charles' letter to Max)

I'll keep this love, ok?

fuck off carlos and don't call me that

Turns out it really could get worse, much worse.

Saturday

Charles drowsily opened one eye to the sound of his beeping alarm. He tried to escape it, covering his ears with a pillow, hoping it would go away. He didn't want to leave the bed. It was feeling a little too cozy today, Max's comforting scent surrounding him like a cloud. He turned on his side, to roll onto Max's side of the bed. With the alarm still ringing annoyingly in the background, Charles moved over, expecting to find himself in the familiar cloud of warmth and comforting scents.

But something was off. It was all there, the scent, the warmth, but the bed was cold, as if empty for the whole night. Didn't Max spend the night over last night?

He nuzzled his face into his hoodie as it all hit him again. Max was never there, but his hoodie was. He had slept in it, and Max slept in his own hotel room, in his own hotel bed. 

Unwillingly, he got up, as the alarm he left on the other side of the room finally got on his nerves. He moved slowly, the events of yesterday coming back slowly. Fred, the unfinished letter and Carlos. It was always Carlos.

Quickly, he got ready to go greet the fans before leaving for the track. He threw off the Red Bull hoodie and buried it in the bottom of his suitcase, then threw on the first ugly blue Ferrari top he found. He hated the blue theme Ferrari did for every single special livery this year. But at least they got the car alright this time. And the jacket.

Grabbing his phone, he took one last glance at the time, then ran out the door.

_____

"Charles?!" At the sound of his name, Charles stopped in his tracks. It was a nice voice, not Carlos' sharp and sneery voice, but not as majestic as Max's (he made a mental note to stop thinking about Max so much). He turned around to see Alex smiling at him.

"How are you mate?" Charles eyed him carefully, hiding his doubt with a convincing smile.

"I'm fine," Charles replied, quickly adding "And you?" after catching the small flicker of confusion run through Alex' face at his unexpected bluntness.

"Oh, I'm doing great! I'm actually bringing George to my favourite restaurant later today!" Charles smiled at Alex, who seemed really excited about his date. Another smile, used for hiding his own pain.

Charles wanted to comment further, but Alex got there first.

"Anyway, I really needed to talk to you Charles. And no, don't interrupt me, the Tifosi can hold on for 2 minutes " he added, seeing Charles open his mouth to speak.

 "Now listen to me. I'm worried about you Charles. We all are. Me and George, Oscar and Lando. We all care. Believe me. Everything in your life has brought you to this moment. Now please Charles, choose what you want. Do not let anyone decide for you. Ok?"

"How... how do you know it was true?" Charles asked in hesitation.

Alex smiled, spotting the doubt in Charles' eyes. 

"I have many reliable sources. Believe me, it's a very long story."

Charles nodded slowly.

"And one last thing Charles. I spoke to Max. He was cautious not to say too much, but he misses you, and loves you to bits. He wants you the way you are, and would hate for you to change for him. Promise me, promise me that you won't choose the wrong thing Charles. Ok?" Alex placed a hand on his shoulder, a supportive hand.

Quietly, but with meaning, Charles said it.

"I promise." Looking up at Alex, who smiled a beaming smile at him. Alex rubbed his back and while waving goodbye, walked towards the front desk of the hotel.

Charles, on the other hand, left through the front door to greet his beloved Tifosi. The truth was, Charles had no idea what choice Alex was talking about. He hoped the promise was an actual good idea.

_____

Tifosi.

The crowd of red that followed him from racetrack to racetrack, chanting and supporting him and the team whatever the country. Their massive presence in Monza was one of those things that never failed to put a smile on his face. 

The looks of joy and hope in their faces. Their immense trust in him to win this race for them. It was still surreal to him, even though he had raced for Ferrari for over 7 years.

But even with all of them smiling and chanting his name, the doubts still managed to creep in.

He wondered what they would think if they all knew. Knew he loved Max Verstappen. Knew he wore a Red Bull hoodie to sleep. Knew Carlos' words were true. 

Thoughts like those surrounded him, rising with every cap or t-shirt he signed, with every picture he took. He even signed a Red Bull cap in the mix. After a couple of minutes, he waved goodbye to the fans and headed to the carpark to get his car.

A tap on the shoulder brought him back from his mind wanders.

"Charles, Charles, signing Red Bull caps I see..." Carlos. Charles could recognise his sneery voice anywhere.

"What do you want, Carlos?" What in my life do you want to ruin again? That last sentence went unsaid. Charles avoided Carlos' piercing brown eyes. Of course Ferrari had to share a hotel with Williams NOW.

"Don't avoid me Charles. It hurts me." He pouted, lifting Charles' chin up to look him in the eye. Charles shook away Carlos' hand and took a couple of steps back.

"Stay away from me Carlos." Charles couldn't bear to look at him.

"Why Charles?" Carlos looked him up and down carefully, his lips turning into that annoying smirk of his. Charles tried to open his mouth, tried  to yell at him, but Carlos was quicker.

He laughed at the look on Charles' face.

"Don't look at me like that. Don't think that Charles. Don't say it was my fault. It was your fault because you told me. You did this, not me." He gave Charles a knowing look and patted him on the back, sliding a little piece of paper into his hand.

Charles took it, without second-guessing it.

When Carlos slipped away towards his own car, was when Charles finally found the courage to yell after him. 

"I hate you Carlos! Never talk to me again!" It didn't do anything, as Carlos had seemed to ignore him and headed his own way. 

As he got into his car, all he was left with was the stupid piece of paper. He shoved it into the back of his phone case and turned on his phone to type a message.

Max❤️‍🩹

I told carlos to go away

His fingers hovered over the "send" button.

Would Max even care about such a stupid little message?

Charles hesitated. He left it there in the end, to send once he got the courage to.

 _____

P4. Again. A fucking P4 when you were in the fight for pole?! Disgraceful, especially in front of your home crowd.

And the stupid team, being useless again, not asking Lewis to give him the tow, even with a five-place grid penalty?!

Max had a tow, Lando had a tow, Oscar had a tow and they all qualified in that order. But Charles, Ferrari's "Golden Boy," in the fight for P1, didn't get a tow because of his 7 time world-driver's champion teammate? That was honestly the only excuse Charles could think of. It was unfair on him, once again.

Or maybe, he just wasn't good enough?

His mind was now a whirlwind of two voices. 

Alex, with his reasurrement and Carlos, with his bluntness and stinging words. Only one of them was correct, and it was now up to Charles to figure out which one.

As a person, it was always easier for Charles to believe the hurtful words that it was for him to believe the kind ones. 

But simultaneously, would Max have gone to the graveyard with him and held him while he told stories of his karting days?

Would he have agreed to what they did after the Monaco Grand Prix?

Would he have written all those messages and letters, if he didn't care?

Would he have done all of that if he thought Charles wasn't enough for him?

Maybe, just maybe Alex had a point.

Maybe leaving that night hurt Max more than freed him and did him more harm than good?

Maybe Max didn't want better, and he took it all away from him?

But didn't he deserve the pain after what he did?

What if, even if Max were to forgive him, Max wouldn't wait around forever?

What if Max finished waiting and decided to move on?

Those thoughts lullabied him to sleep that night, as Carlos' piece of paper still stuck in his phone case, untouched.

Sunday

"Fuck" Charles cursed inside his helmet as Oscar overtook him. 

It was sweet for as long as it lasted, managing to defend against Oscar for at least a couple laps, before the McLaren got the better of him. 

P3 in Monza was probably the best he could do at that moment. With the Quali mess up, starting from P4 wasn't ideal. And having to overtake the McLarens ahead to hop onto the podium wasn't ideal either. Charles pressed his foot to the throttle and put his head down. 

This one was for the Tifosi. 

With each metre of the track he completed, his focus grew. He could nearly see the car glide through the air gracefully. Chasing down Oscar. Chasing down a podium in Monza. Chasing down the dream of every Tifosi present.

To see their "Il Predestinato" on the podium with their own two eyes. Under his heavy helmet, his eyes gleamed with pride for all of the red ocean of fans surrounding him. The least he could do to show them his gratitude was make them as proud of Ferrari as he was of them and their unwavering support. 

It was majestic, honestly, swimming through that loyal ocean of red. It was something no other team could experience, no matter where. 

Something that was just strictly Ferrari, only theirs to take pride in.

And it wasn't only Ferrari that took pride in their supporters, it was the supporters that took pride in Ferrari, praising the prancing horse team, loving it with all their hearts, supporting it for decades.

And at their home race, with this shitty season, the least he could do was hop on the podium for them, even if it was the lowest step. Just something for them to remember. A thank you gift for all their unwavering support, without a second thought.

His Ferrari felt like a gliding plane, pure and focused flying smoothly though the clouds. No outside thoughts of "what if?" just smoothness and calmness of the mind and the feeling of the breeze in his face.

"What's the gap?" He asked Bryan calmly.

"4 seconds and increasing." Charles sighed before Bryan added. "Keep doing what you are doing Charles."

Charles pressed throttle again and began focusing on fending off the charging Mercedes of George behind.

_____

"And 5 more laps."

Charles sighed. He honestly couldn't understand why Ferrari pitted him that early in the race. And supposedly, according to Bryan, the McLarens were going to be pitting for softs, which didn't feel like such a bad idea. He wished Ferrari had thought of that earlier.

"McLaren boxing Piastri first."

At Bryan's words, Charles tried to find an extra tenth of speed to overcut Oscar in the pit. But no, the stop went as perfectly as ever and Oscar came out with about a second separating them. It wasn't close enough to attack him now. So he kept pushing, waiting for Lando to stop. 

With about 10 to 12 seconds separating him and Lando, he hoped to at least get somewhat in striking distance of either of the cars ahead. 12 seconds was a lot, but it never hurt to try, even if his hard tires were slowly wearing down. Charles drove onto the main straight, feeling much closer to the Mclaren ahead than before. 

"Norris had a slow stop ahead. Let's go and get them Charles!"

It was as if Bryan had read his mind. The papayas would fight amongst each other and he would get closer and attack (and hopefully overtake) one of them, hopping onto the last podium spot. He smirked at his idea and put his head down. 

It was game on.

Or at least it was until McLaren's stupid "Papaya Rules" didn't come into play again. They ordered their drivers to swap positions after a fucking slow stop.

"Idiots." Charles muttered to himself, not only at his lost opportunity, but also at the team management at McLaren.

"Oscar, Lando had a slow stop, can you let him by?"

"Oscar, Lando sneezed. Can you hand him a tissue please?"

That is not how to lead a team (said by someone who's boss tests your loyalty with a broken lie detector). It wasn't like Charles had any experience with leading a team, but a slow stop is a racing incident, something that can happen to anyone. 

In the end, Charles was stuck with his P4 and a miserable 12 points, which at Monza was a disappointment, not the standard.

But what did bring a smile to his face was his beloved Tifosi, chanting "du du tu tu Max Verstappen" for his Max on the podium.

He taught them well.

_____

Max❤️‍🩹

Hi Charles, i was just wondering if you would like to come over to my post-win party. No pressure of course, and bring along anyone you want:)

Charles stared at the message.

It was long after the race now, and he was relaxing in his hotel room, not doing anything in particular.

He dug in the depths of his brain to find a suitable response. Did he really want to go at all, or would he rather relax at the hotel alone? He wasn't very fond of spending time alone, and the sound of a party made him think he could clear his mind with a night out.

Trying hard not to overthink it too much, he shot Max a quick text.

I'll see you there Max❤️

he put his phone away quickly to not think too much of the message he just sent. In minutes, his screen lit up with a reply.

I'm glad Charles:)

I'll see you soon!!

And with those two messages, he added in a location and a time.

Charles smiled to himself slightly, but lightened the smile when he noticed how reserved and distant Max's messages were. How he was careful not to overstep. Of course, Charles was grateful Max cared, but honestly he'd missed what they had before. But wasn't that his fault? Didn't he end it all?

Maybe Carlos was right? Maybe he was the one that made this whole mess, he was the one who ruined it all, 

Yeah, according to Carlos, that sounded just about right.

_____

With an hour left to go, Charles threw on a pair of wide leg jeans and a random top. He placed Max's letter carefully in the back pocket of his jeans and got ready to go.

With 30 minutes left, he decided to walk down to the club by foot and attempt to clear his mind.

Sometime later, after nearly getting lost twice, he randomly stumbled upon the club and breathed a sigh or relief. He put away his phone and walked inside slowly, greeting the security guard politely. 

Inside, the sound of music met his ears immediately, evaporating all the thoughts from his mind. In mere seconds, he finds Lando and Pierre, and is pulled into their inner circle. Pierre hugs him tightly in support.

Lando (who was clearly already drunk) starts some random conversation about his great-grandfather, laughs and smiles spreading like disease with each story he tells. 

Charles was deeply intrigued in one story when Pierre pulls him out of the circle of listeners and asks him a question.

"Charles, do you need a hug?"

Charles looked at him, nodding, knowing Pierre would understand.

Pierre hugged him tightly, and once he let go, looked Charles in the eye.

"I'm here all the time, just call Charles. Ok?"

"I know, don't worry. But thank you." Charles smiled at his childhood friend. The same one who had been there from the start. From his first kart win, to his signing with Ferrari. He was there when Charles was suffering, smiling and all the in between. He knew him inside out and Pierre knew Charles inside out too. They were like brothers. He was one of the first ones Charles came out to with his sexuality, the first one Charles told about Ferrari signing Lewis. They were really like siblings.

Pierre shook his head. 

"I always worry, Charles." He rolled his eyes, "because all you do is get yourself into trouble."

"Yeah, yeah... I don't believe that." Charles folded his arms.

"Ok, now. So you're gonna fight me now... I see..." Pierre smirked.

Luckily, Alex came over to them asking if they wanted drinks and ended the bickering. Pierre politely refused, and waved Charles goodbye, who followed Alex down to where he and George were sitting.

Alex bought them all drinks, for which Charles thanked for gratefully before he asked a question.

"So, how was your restaurant date on Saturday??"

Alex immediately started blushing and George, with one look at Alex, started laughing like a madman.

"It was... interesting to say the least..." George replied, trying to keep a straight face.

"A little boy came up to us in the restaurant and asked if we were dating. I answered yes, and honestly his expression change was unbelievable. The boy looked so shocked and asked us if two men can date, and we both answered "yes". Then he ran over to this lady, who I assume was his mother and screamed "Mama I'm gonna date Luca!!" and everyone in the restaurant burst out laughing, like even the waitress nearly dropped the food!!" Alex smiled at George.

George smirked and raised an eyebrow. 

Charles told them he's gonna run down to the bathroom, as he didn't necessarily want to third-wheel anyone today.

He stepped into the men's bathroom and slouched over in the far corner, sighing quietly to himself. It was those looks, those lovely little stories they shared, the knowing smiles they gave and returned frequently.

He sighed and began to walk out, taking out his phone. The bathroom door swung open suddenly. Charles didn't take any notice, but supposedly neither did the other person as he ran right into Charles. Charles' head popped up to see Max picking up something from the ground.

"Oh my God Charles. I am so sorry for that." Max had a worried look on his face. It was clear that he felt bad for the accident. 

"Also here, " he handed Charles the piece of paper from Carlos, "you dropped this." their fingers brushed at the exchange.

"Thank you Max." Charles smiled at the Dutchman.

Max disappeared into the cubicle as Charles unfolded the note from Carlos with shaking hands.

His eyes and mouth widened in shock.

"What the fu..." he half-whispered.

Me and you, my hotel room, post race 

Room no. 234

Just then, Max walked out of the cubicle. Charles dropped the note in shock, bending over to pick it up.

"Hey, is everything alright Charles?" Max looked over his shoulder.

Charles whispered. "Help me get rid of this, please. I can't look at it." He handed Max the piece of paper. He watched the Dutchman's eyes widen in shock at the words on the page.

Charles' whole body was shaking. He couldn't stand the hidden meaning behind the note. They both knew it, him and Max. It made him gag, the mere thought of it. 

Max saw Charles going pale, and without thinking, pulled him in closer to his chest. 

"Breathe Charles, here, it's all good..." He repeated as he ripped the note into small pieces and washed it down the sink.

Charles buried himself in Max's shoulder, breathing in his calming ocean scent. The scent cradled him, made him feel safe again. 

"Charlie, who gave you this?" Max asked with care, even though he knew exactly who it was.

Charles was less pale now, answering Max in a nearly not shaking voice.

"Carlos." he said, in a quiet tone, even though they were completely alone.

"I hate that lying bastard." Max muttered to himself. "Are you feeling better now?" he said to Charles, in a thoughtful voice.

Charles nodded, and pulled back a bit as if something hit him.

"Oh my God... Fuck I'm doing it again." he looked at Max with an indescribable look in his eyes and said.

"I'm so sorry Max, for using you like this and all and... I'm just sorry for being a burden and for messing things up." he looked down and muttered to himself, "Yeah, Carlos was right, stupid. It's always your mistakes that ruin everything..." he pushed the bathroom door open and walked out quickly, before Max could call after him.