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Chapter Text

It's Hereeeee ❤️❤️❤️❤️ I'm happy to announce that my first ever album “Champagne Problems” will be out 12th of June 2026.

I have goosebumps just writing this. I wrote these songs without any intention to release them. I thought they would stay my little secret forever, but here they areeeee.

2025 was one of the hardest years of my life. I spent the most difficult nights of it in a studio. I thought I was pouring my problems into my music, but in reality I was healing from within.

This is the most raw and vulnerable I've ever been publicly but also with myself. The decision to release these songs was difficult, but so was writing them in those moments. If I never wrote them, I would never heal the way I did. So I am letting them out and hopefully heal some of you as well.

This is a love story and a championship story in one. This is Champagne Problems. It's beautiful, it's sad, it's evermore.

PS: A lot of times during my adventures in writing I found myself writing songs about people in my life. I gave the people different names but the stories are still theirs. Let's see if you can guess which name I gave myself 😘😘😘

Champagne Problems Out 12.06.2026

Chapter Text

"Lost in your current like a priceless wine"

Charles has never been good at math, but he can count. Charles has counted 78 days, 22 hours and 47 minutes since he last started a race on the front row with Max. But he doesn't care about that. Why would he care about a statistic like front row starts when his team is having the worst few weeks they could possibly have? Charles has bigger worries than Max right now. He doesn't care.

Correction.

Charles wouldn't care about the stupid statistic if not for the fact that now there is a different driver in the front row in his place.

Really, Ferrari is the problem right now. He should worry that he hasn't scored a point in 3 races and the floor is not working and quali is a problem this year and– shit, he doesn't care about that. Well, he does care but it doesn't worry him. It's Lando and his stupid poles and his stupid front row starts next to stupid Max.

But it's OK. Maybe Ferrari doesn't have the quali pace this year, but the SF-24's race pace is something to be desired. Or, it will be once the new front wing Charles has been testing makes it to the track. The point is, he should be happy. Having a car good in the race is much better than last year when he had all these poles and no wins to show for it. However, last year he was starting next to Max more often than not and it was great.

But Charles doesn't care. It's all good, really. Max is still his rival. Lando can start next to him all he wants, but his rivalry with Max will never come close to Charles'.

Charles has to fix the car as soon as possible and somehow get pole in Spa. Which is in 2 days. Solid plan.

"What’s on your mind?” He hears Pierre asking in French. He is sitting across from him and has obviously clocked Charles' uneasiness, as Pierre often does.

"Nothing much, just the race” It's true because Charles is not a liar.

"Do you think you will be strong here? Because I was looking and the weather, and it says it's going to rain again.”

Pierre shows him his phone, weather information visible on it. There are rain drops on every square during the weekend.

He doesn't know. How is he supposed to answer that question when he doesn't know? They probably will be ass. Charles looks out the window at the mountains below. So many hours spent flying and he still gets chills every time he looks down. It almost feels like you're on top of the world. Not that Charles would know how that feels.

"You guys do bad in the rain. You need to fix that” Thanks a lot Pierre, way to make your friend feel better.

"Do you think Lando can win against Max this year”? Charles asks, trying to steer the conversation away from the car.

"No? Of course not. Where did this come from?

"Do you think Max likes racing Lando more than me?”

"Are you crazy?”

Probably. Charles is probably going insane. So what if they haven't had a front row start together in 2 months? Charles should get a hold of himself.

. . .

Three days later, Charles is getting out of his car after qualifying with Max's Red Bull next to him and it feels like home. He's finally back on the first row. All the work on the car paid off. Three races lost on test runs for the rest of the season and he is finally here.

Max walks over to him and congratulates him on his pole position, all smiles and red cheeks. Right, Charles is actually on pole, because Max has a grid penalty. And just like it was 3 days ago on the plane, it's fine. Everything is great. The car is back to normal, he has a chance to win tomorrow and everything is going well.

He adds another day to his tally.

—————————

"As if you were a mythical thing
Like you were a trophy or a champion ring"

"You know if at least Max was up there somewhere in a position to win the race I wouldn't even be this mad." Charles says to maman the night before the race in Monza. She joined him in his hotel room because she thought he needed company, whatever that means. He doesn't. It's just frustrating to be sitting here and just waiting for tomorrow to see the McLaren p1 and p2. In Ferrari's sacred place too. Unacceptable if you ask Charles. Unacceptable.

"Maybe you can win it." His mom says. Always the dreamer. It's where he got it from. "Your tires have been holding up good this season and it's one of the hottest races this year. Tire saving will be important."

"Maybe. Probably. I mean, I know. At least I have a chance for a podium I think. No one expects George to stay where he is. The Mercedes is just not there." Charles says and he does know that. This is why he doesn't need the company. He already knows everything everyone will say.

"Well then we don't have a problem, do we?" Maman smiles from the bed where she is sitting while Charles is pacing back and forth.

"Yes we do, if Lando wins this one, and he probably wins Singapore, and then if they are strong in Baku, do you know how many points that is?" That was a long sentence and Charles is left breathless "I don't, but it's a lot. Then he would probably be actually fighting Max for the championship. Like, actually."

Who is Charles kidding? They're already fighting for the championship.

"And you care because…?" Maman looks at him confused "Charles, I thought you were upset about the p4?"

"I am." Charles can be upset about two things at once. He's a multitasker, ok?

"Ok, so why does this championship fight upset you this much? You wanted it to be you?" Charles doesn't answer. "Honey, of course you do." She gets up and softly places her hands on his shoulders. It radiates comfort and he feels tears prickling his eyes. "I get it. And it's perfectly ok to feel that way."

"It's not though? Who gets jealous of their friends for being successful? I'm a horrible person."

"Oh you beautiful, hopeless, oblivious child." Charles is none of those things. Except maybe the first one. But he is not vain either so he won't admit it. His mom however is looking at him with that soft expression again and her hands are now cupping his cheeks and Charles wants to cry. He doesn't deserve her. "You and Max always had something special. A rivalry that lasted for years. How many nights did you stay up looking at videos of him karting trying to figure out how he moved the wheel so you can try it at training the next day?"

"Way too many." He laughs. Every night. He remembers it clear as day. "Little Charles was obsessed with beating Max Verstappen.”

"Little Charles?" There's that look again. She knows him too well.

Charles rolls his eyes. "Of course I still want to beat him. Obviously. I want to beat everyone."

"Yes, but Lando isn't allowed to beat him is he?" Theres a pause and Charles doesn't need to say anything. "Charles, what you and Max have experienced together in your formative years is not something you can just put aside. It's something big and strong and it's normal to feel that you have a special connection to him, because you do. It's normal to feel jealous that someone is filling your place; a place you've had for more than 10 years."

"Twelve. We’ve been racing each other for twelve years."

"I'm sorry, twelve."

Charles laughs again. Maybe maman is right. Maybe Charles is allowed to feel this way.

"So what do I do now?" He asks.

"Now you go to bed, stop thinking about an imaginary title fight that you're not even a part of, then get in the car tomorrow and show Lando Norris who Max's real rival is by beating his ass to the win." Maman hugs him and it doesn't make him feel like he is the worst person in the world. It makes him feel like he can win tomorrow.

But the sour feeling in his chest stays. It's still there hours later, after maman says her goodbye and Charles is tucked into bed looking at his phone; eyes burning and heart sinking; reading different articles about this year's title fight. They're comparing it to 2021. All these articles should be about him. He should be the one fighting Max.

In his 6 years, this is the first time he has actually stopped and thought about the possibility of him and Max never having a championship fight. It's a painful realization. If you told this to little Charles, he would probably laugh in your face or start crying. The thought of him never fighting Max for a championship sounds so foreign, because he always thought it was them and no one else. So engrossed in beating each other no one else existed in their world. Not fighting Max for a championship would mean never winning one.

When he dreamed of it, he always thought about winning. However, he even made peace with the fact that he might lose, he might never be good enough to win against Max. But not even getting to try? He never thought of that. So he curses everything that got him in this situation: himself for not starting his f1 career at the same time as Max, McLaren for somehow getting their shit together at the worst possible moment, Mercedes for being so dominant for such a long time, but most of all, Ferrari for not giving him the car to prove himself.

Now Max has fought many drivers, beaten many of them, including one of the best in history. And Charles feels like it's all slipping away. His rivalry, his childhood, his career.

Twelve years after their carting days, Max is still Charles' biggest and most special rival. But maybe Charles isn't Max's.
————————

"Every bait and switch was a work of art"

Charles wins Monza for the second time! He didn't think it was possible. He didn't think that he could ever feel this amount of joy again after Monaco. He can't stop smiling. He shares the podium with Lando and Oscar, but he feels like both of them are disappointed. He can't get himself to care because Charles Leclerc is the winner of Monza for the second time!

It's gonna be another night of celebrations and hugs and champagne and alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol.

Maman finds him in his driver's room afterwards and gives him a long hug.

"See?" She asks.

"I see." Charles says wetly with tears in his eyes.

He won. He actually won!

He's still on a high from all the adrenaline and the love he felt from the Tifosi and his team when he's walking back to his room in a dark hallway. Charles took the stairs because he was too pumped to wait in front of an elevator. He will go change and then straight to the party Joris managed to organize in less than 2 hours.

"CHARLES!" Someone yells from nearby.

It’s Max, walking towards him from the elevator.

"Oh hi Max. I didn't realize we were staying on the same floor."

"Congrats on your win mate, that was a sensational drive."

"Thanks, the car was amazing, I really had fun. How was it for you? You were struggling?"

"Oh don't even ask mate, it was horrible. I felt like I was chasing imaginary ghosts the entire time. There was oversteer, understeer, the tires were not working, how was turn 14 for you by the way?"

"14 was good. 7-8 though? I had to try 5 different approaches until I found the right way to get the graining to a minimum there."

"Mate same, I tried everything I swear. I tried braking earlier but then I just sacrificed too much speed. If I turned less abruptly my exit was completely fucked and so was my front left. It was impossible."

"Noo that was wrong. Look at my onboard and you'll see what you were doing wrong. You will thank me next year."

"I was gonna do that anyway of course."

"Thank me?"

"Look at your onboard."

"Oh."

Max looks like he's about to say something else and Charles would love to stay and chat (very much actually) but he really really really needs to go. And if Max accepts, Charles will gladly continue this conversation at the club.

"Hey, um, I actually need to go… kind of, to a party. Do you want to come? We're celebrating my win with the team. But it's totally fine for you to be there I swear." Please say yes.

"Nah, mate, maybe some other time. You're not mad? I really just want to get into bed and rest right now after the weekend we've had. I just wanted to congratulate you."

"No way, no worries at all. I understand. We've all been there. See you around?"

"Yeah sure."

They say goodbye and Max starts going back to where he came from.

————————

"Life was a willow and it bent right to your wind (oh)
They count me out time and time again"

"Have you seen Max?" Charles asks, drink in hand, eyes roaming around the packed nightclub.

"No, Charles I haven't seen Max, just like i hadn't seen him 2 minutes ago and just like i won't have seen him in 2 minutes from now when you ask again, for the 103rd time." Pierre answers rolling his eyes in obvious frustration.

"All right, no need to be rude, what's gotten you so on edge? I thought you were a happy boy. Sixth in the constructors, wh-"

"I literally just had a DNF! Engine going BOOM, remember? We're here so I can wallow, remember?"

"I thought we were here because Max invited us. It's his championship party."

"Max Max Max Max. Are you capable of talking about someone else? Ever?"

Charles doesn't talk about Max that often. Does he? No. He only talks about Max when it's necessary. Like right now, Max just won his 4th title and he is the man of the moment. Of course Charles will talk about him. It's normal.

It's normal to think about Max and think about how everything always works out for Max. Red Bulls golden boy. Four time champion, Max Verstappen. Beats Lewis Hamilton in a Mercedes, Max Verstappen. Has the most dominant season in recent history, Max Verstappen. Gets the fourth in the fourth fastest car, Max Verstappen. Really, what else is Charles to do but think about him? If he doesn't think about Max, Charles will think about his own career. Zero championships. A measly half of a championship fight he lost through no fault of his own, but that's not what they will remember. When they say Charles' name they will not remember how Ferrari screwed him in 2022. They will not remember him at all.

Even now, when their car seems strong for 2025 it's not Charles who Max should be afraid of, according to them: It's Lewis.

The only thing he will be remembered as is a pushover who didn't know how to speak up and did everything they told him and allowed his team to ruin his career because he was too sensitive! And he lets his feelings overpower him too often, and he loves his team and he will do anything to get them the constructors title. But the more he tries and the more he loves and the more he breathes Ferrari the more it hurts.

Charles looks at the 4 shots him and Pierre got to share. Fuck sharing! Charles is a selfish asshole from now on. He downs all of them one by one while Pierre looks on with his mouth wide open.

But Charles will show them. All of them including Peirre. One day he will show them that-

"There's your boy." Charles looks at the direction Pierre is pointing at and he sees the man of the moment.

Max is drunk. Actually, that's an understatement. To say Max is drunk would be an offense to drunk people everywhere. Charles needs to talk to him and congratulate.

"I'll be right back." He says to Pierre.

"I'm sure you will."

Max sees him before he even gets there.

"Hey Charles, you came," he starts, grinning from ear to ear and dancing in place to the music a little bit. "I didn't think you'd come."

"Of course I'm here. Congratulations by the way, four in a row, who would've thought?"

"You didn't think I could do it?" He asks, he's standing really close and all Charles can see is blue.

Why blue? Where is he all of a sudden? Charles was in a club talking to Max. Right. The blue. It's Max's eyes. Obviously. Charles starts giggling and looks away at the ceiling. It's spinning. The shots are kicking in. Max's eyes aren't even blue. Charles doesn't remember. He looks again to make sure.

"Charles, are you there?"

"I'm here, yeah… I'm here"

"You seem distracted"

"I was looking at your eyes. They're very blue"

They're standing very close again. And they're dancing. Charles doesn't even recognize the song. He wanted to congratulate Max.

"Congratulations!"

"Thanks, it'll be your turn soon. I know it."

Yes it will, Charles will make sure of it.

Charles keeps dancing and Max is still there. At some point, 5 seconds or 3 hours later, Max starts pulling him somewhere and Charles goes with him. Wherever Max wants to go. Next thing he knows they’re outside. The air is cold and Charles feels like he hasn’t taken a proper breath in hours.

"God, I needed this, It felt like I was running out of air in there." He starts as soon as they're out of the door.

"I know, it was way too crowded. Are you ok? You look… um… strange." Charles looks at Max confused. Should he tell him?

"I don't know mate. Don't get me wrong, I'm really happy for you. Really. It's just… you know sometimes I think… I've made all these wrong choices. About Ferrari I mean. I've stuck with them even though they don't appreciate me enough. And I feel like you're getting everything that I… could've had. If I had a team like you did… I'm horrible, I know. " He chuckles and looks up at the sky. "I'm just… disappointed."

"Charles, look at me." Charles does. Immediately. He doesn't have to do everything Max tells him but for some reason he can't help it. And Max's eyes are still as beautiful as they were a few minutes ago. And Charles is still drunk. "The only difference between us is that I got a team that believed in me enough to stick by my side through thick and thin. I was lucky, and I know not everyone gets that. Ha, sometimes–” he points his finger at Charles “ and I haven't told anyone this so consider yourself special– I think I don't deserve their trust. Why should I get to be so lucky--"

"You weren't lucky. You were… better than everyone else. All the rest of us were just unlucky to be racing at the same time as you. That's all."

"I don't agree. I think I was unlucky to be racing at the same time as you. I mean I would not have any competition if not for you. God, my life would be so much easier." That makes Charles laugh and soon Max joins and they're both laughing at the absurdity of Max’s words. Or maybe their history and how they got here.

After a few minutes of hysterical laughing and swaying in the back alley of a Las Vegas nightclub at 2am, Max sits on the curb and motions for Charles to sit next to him.

"Charles, you're amazing, you know that? There's no one I enjoy racing more than you."

"Not even Lewis?"

"Do you enjoy racing Lewis more than me?" Max gasps.

"No, never."

"Good. Me neither." He smiles.

The door behind them opens again and it makes Charles jump, which in turn makes Max laugh.

"There they are." Pierre yells with Lando trailing behind looking angry. "We've been looking everywhere for you."

"We just needed some air." the blonde says to their friends, unfazed.

"Everyone staying at the Grand Plaza is planning to leave together. Charles, are you coming with us or staying?"

"I'm coming, I'm coming." Charles tries to stand up but sways and starts falling back down. He’s already saying goodbye to his non bruised ass, hands, and probably dignity when he feels arms around him just when he’s about to hit the ground.

Somehow Max has gotten up before him and has managed to save Charles from falling down like a stupid drunk idiot. Max’s hands are so big on his waist, they almost envelop him whole. It’s a familiar feeling, but Charles can’t put his finger on how exactly that is possible. Instead, he regains his footing and smiles at Max, cheeks probably pink from embarrassment..

"Thank you, Max. “ He pauses. “For… everything."

Max just smiles back and nods. And it's enough.

————————
"wherever you stray, I follow"

It’s the second to last race of the season and Charles is tired. It feels like this has been the most tiring season so far in his career. Even last year when he was fighting the car every race, it didn’t drain him as much as this year has. And there’s still one race to go. The most important one. But before that, they need to stay in the fight.

His pre-race ritual is fairly simple. He does some core and neck exercises, followed by a few rounds of kicking a football with Andrea to get his blood flowing. It’s the same every time. Andrea is there– focused as always; a social media person with a phone in hand filming the whole thing; Anthoine taking photos; the mechanics rushing around walking from one building to another; the rhythmic sound of his feet kicking the ball once in a while. It helps him focus. Charles’ mind goes blank for a moment and in that moment he is lost to everyone and everything. From that moment onwards it’s just him and the car.

It’s his second favorite part of race day.

The race itself is uneventful for him. He struggles with the car a little but manages to make up some positions and finish on the podium next to Max and Oscar. If someone had told him last year that he would finish p2 in Qatar, Charles wouldn’t have believed them. Qatar was supposed to be the worst race for the SF-24.

And just like that, he can’t help but feel hopeful. Hopeful for the constructors, hopeful for getting p2 in the drivers (not that it matters), but most importantly, Charles is hopeful for next year.

He doesn’t dare to dream. He looks to his left and there is Max, smiling big and happy listening to the Dutch national anthem. World Champion 2024. What Charles would give to be able to stop him next year. To make 2025 his.

Drenched in rose water, Charles climbs on the top step with Max to take the mandatory photo and that’s when he feels it. A hand on his waist. A hand with long slender fingers touching him and being the reason for the goosebumps on his skin. That’s how he knows the feeling. Him and Max have done this so many times, Charles knows exactly what Max’s hand feels like on his waist.

Years and years of group photos flash in front of his eyes and Max’s hand is always there. Soft and warm like summer in Monaco. Like the wind touching you while you are running on the beach on a quiet summer night. 2 AM. It feels like you are one with it. It feels like you know each other intimately, and when you stop to take a deep breath, you feel like the wind is just an old friend you never realized you had.

In a few seconds, the moment is over and there is an empty space on Charles’ waist where the hand used to be. Is it Charles, or is that place colder than it used to be? That’s stupid, Max’s hand was probably wet from the rose water.

Another moment and Max is slipping away. He’s rounding the corner to get back inside. Charles wants to talk to him. He starts walking and it’s like he’s back on the beach. Beach Charles has started to run again but this time the wind is going in the opposite direction. He keeps running yet the wind is out of reach. He keeps chasing it but he’s not quite fast enough. And hasn’t it always been like that with Max?

He gives up after a few more steps. You can not catch up with the wind after all. It’s futile to even try.

“Hey mate, deep in thought?” Max laughs.

Max was far ahead of him when he last looked up. He must have stopped and waited for Charles.

“Um, I… not.. I don’t know, why?” Charles is a very well articulated individual.

Now Max is looking at him like he’s insane “Nothing, don’t worry about it. That mirror from the Williams huh? Made everything more complicated for both title fights.” He laughs, giving Charles a way out of explaining what exactly he was thinking about at that moment.

Sometimes he wonders if Max knows him too well, or if he is really good at reading people. He doesn’t know which option he wants.

They continue walking to the media pen together while Max is “maxplaining” various race strategies for different drivers to Charles. How Max knows on what lap Kevin changed his tires in the race and how he did on each compound 10 minutes after said race has always been a mystery to Charles, but he stopped questioning it a long time ago. Now he just listens and enjoys Max’s input on everything because it is (un)surprisingly insightful and thought provoking. Charles has always loved listening to Max talk about racing. It’s fascinating and thrilling to listen to him talk with that much passion. You can just feel how much he loves and breathes it with every word.

In fact, he is so into it that he completely disregards the fact that they have reached their destination and are supposed to go to their respective press officers. Instead, Charles finds himself standing next to Max with 3 other Red Bull employees and a journalist that is ready to ask the race winner a question while his own press officers, dressed in bright red are at the other end of the room.

Everyone is looking at him and his cheeks are probably the same color as his racing suit.

Shit.

Everyone should stop looking at him like that and understand that Charles was talking to Max. He pulls you in. He looks at you with those piercing blue eyes that are the color of the sea at Monaco pier after the sun has just risen and the world is quiet and– Don’t they know that they would do the same if they were Charles?

He swallows his pride, makes a joke about needing a GPS in the vast media pen and rushes out of there like someone is chasing him.

————————
“I’m like the water when your ship rolled in that night
Rough on the surface but you cut through like a knife”

Charles hates Abu Dhabi. Actually, Charles hates it when the universe decides to show him that he doesn’t deserve good things. Because what other explanation is there? There were so many possibilities this weekend. But somehow, the universe chose a 10 place grid penalty, a deleted lap time in Q2, and… a stomach bug for some reason to show Charles that he shouldn’t dare to dream again. That every time he dreams, it comes crashing down like a house of cards.

He can’t even blame himself this time. He did everything right. Ten place grid penalty? Starting from the last row? Who gives a shit? Charles will make up 11 positions in the first lap and 5 more throughout the race. Charles would’ve made up more if that’s what it took. But no, no matter what he did it wouldn't be enough.

So Charles hates Abu Dhabi because there has to be something tangible that he can latch his hatred onto.

Charles was taught from a very young age the art of keeping appearances. “How to avoid questions you don’t want to answer”, “How to make everyone believe something that is not actually true”, “How to smile at journalists even tho they asked you the same question for the 10th time in a row”, “How to pretend you like your teammate while filming PR videos”. Those aren’t the exact names of the lectures he was given by Sylvia over the years, but they are the names he gave them. He knows everything he learnt about PR from when he was twelve. Remembers it all. Right now, he knows his anger is visible on his face from miles away. Charles is aware that he is often incapable of hiding his emotions, especially after a race when he is the most vulnerable.

He stands there, knowing everyone can see all the hurt and anger that has found its way into his chest right now. He wants to Leave. He wants to bury himself in a blanket in his hotel room and not come out for 3 days. The next 3 days after this season should be non-existent. They shouldn’t count.

He looks around at orange mechanics celebrating and jumping around. He sees Carlos congratulating Lando. Why is Carlos congratulating Lando? It should’ve been them.

Lewis approaches and hugs him. “What a drive mate, we’ll get them next year.”

Next year. They always say that but “next year” never comes. Charles is tired of waiting for next year. He closes his eyes, trying to will the tears back. He’s not going to cry on live television. He is going to keep it together one last time this season.

He manages to keep it together long enough to go back to his hotel room.

. . .

After a long crying session, and an even longer shower, Charles is finally in bed. A replay of the race playing on the TV. He doesn’t want to remember how it felt to be in the car, helpless to do anything about the one thing he wanted with his entire heart, but he has to watch it. He has to see why it was so out of reach. He doesn’t find an answer.

The doorbell rings just when Charles is about to pit for new tires. As if that’s helped. As if whoever is at the door is going to help Charles feel any better.

Reluctantly, he gets up and opens the door, eye roll already half way on his eyes, but then he sees the bluest eyes he’s ever seen.

Max is standing at the door dressed in jeans and a plain white t-shirt with his hair wet like he just showered. The white goes with his eyes.

“What are you doing here?”

“Hi, “ He has a smile on his face. So wide Charles can see all of his teeth. “I thought you might want some company. I brought my playstation.”

“You… brought your play station to my room.” Charles’ mouth is probably touching the ground.

“I thought you might need a distraction. You know… after today. You seemed sad after the race.”

“I wasn’t sad, I was angry.” Charles blurts out.

“Sure” He is still smiling. Why is he still standing there and smiling like this is normal and OK?

“You think you know everything about me, don’t you?”

“No, why would– “

“‘What do you have on your mind Charles? ‘, ‘You seem distracted, Charles’, ‘You seem upset, Charles’, ‘You are sad, Charles.’ Tell me, will you ever stop psychoanalyzing me?”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to… Psychoanalyze you of course. I just thought… I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’ll just go.” The smile that had been there the whole time disappears abruptly from Max’s face. He starts walking backwards at first and then his face disappears from Charles’ line of sight as Max starts walking faster and faster.

Charles didn’t think… He didn’t mean to hurt Max.

Stupid stupid stupid. What was he even thinking?

Well, that’s one way to treat a person who has been kind to him every time he needed it. Someone who shows up at your door at midnight with a whole ass play station just because he thought it would make you feel a little better. Max is an angel and Charles definitely does not deserve such a person in his life.

But this isn’t about him. It’s about Max and the look on his face before he turned around. Charles needs to make it right.

He unfreezes from the place he was standing at for way too long and starts down the hallway hoping Max is still at the hotel at least. Are they even staying at the same hotel? Charles has no idea. Because he’s a horrible and ungrateful human being.

He rounds the corner and thanks the person who came up with the idea of elevators being the slowest moving objects in the universe because that’s where he finds Max. Playstation in hand, waiting for an elevator.

Max looks at him but doesn’t say anything.

“So do you have FIFA on that thing?”

“It’s OK Charles, you don’t have to.”

“Do you? Because I could really use beating someone at FIFA right now. It would do wonders to redirect my anger.”

Max hugs his playstation closer to his chest, but doesn't say anything. Charles hates it. He should be talking, it’s his natural state of being. He should be moving his hands around gesturing and explaining what moves would work best for which strategy and which team to pick in order to have a better chance of winning because he has probably analyzed the strengths and weaknesses of every fake footballer in that stupid game. Instead he stands there looking at the elevator doors as if begging them to open.

Charles continues “You know… to something other than–” He pauses “–the first person who dared to show up at my door to try and cheer me up. I’m sorry.” Another pause. “Please come back.”

The doors open at that moment, but Max doesn’t move.

“I didn’t bring FIFA, but I have Mario Kart. If that’s angry enough for you of course.” The world champion finally mumbles.

“I can beat you at Mario Kart. Easily.” Charles rolls his eyes for good measure, but he feels like the smile on his face betrays him a little.

“That we’ll see” Max’s smile sure betrays him.

. . .

Charles is bad at Mario Kart. The thing is, he always knew he was bad at Mario Kart, since he’s never won in his life, but Charles didn’t know Max was so good at it. It’s almost ridiculous how easy it is for the Dutch to beat him.

After 3 hours of constant losing and complaining and in one instant angrily trying to throw the controller off the balcony (unsuccessful thanks to Max’s world champion worthy reflexes), Its almost morning and Charles is slowly starting to succumb to sleep.

Max, of course, notices like he always does.

“I should go”

“NO!” Charles yells, startling the blonde where he is laying on the hotel couch.

“No? Hah, Charles, I can’t stay all night. We both need to sleep. Besides, I’m tired of winning.”

“I’m sure you are. Mr. Winner.”

Max gives him a side eye at that and gets up, getting ready to leave.

“I’m serious, you don’t have to go.” Charles gets up too, now serious. “You can sleep in my bed. I can sleep on the couch or something.” Charles suggests. Max gives him a strange look but Charles is not giving up. “It’s late.”

Max furrows his brows “Charles, my room is 3 floors below. What difference does the hour make?”

“Oh. OK. If you’re sure. I thought… I don’t want to pressure you. You’ve… already helped me a lot and I’ve already been a dick to you and now I won’t let you leave and–”

“Charles, Charles…” Max’s hand is on Charles’ shoulder suddenly. “It’s fine. It would just be stupid for you to sleep on the couch when I have a perfectly good bed downstairs. And you weren’t a dick–”

“No, I was I need to apologize for that because–”

“I should be the one to apologize–” Max says at the same time and they stop and laugh. It’s nice and familiar like this entire night. “I’m serious,” He continues. “I can be a bit pushy and too personal sometimes and” Max stops for a moment and looks down. “I’m aware of it. People have told me. Just, if I’m ever intruding again, please tell me. I’ll stop.”

Charles wants to have a word with whoever told Max he is too much.

“You’re not too much. And you’re not too personal. I really did say that because I was angry back there. Not at you, obviously.” Fuck it, Max deserves to know “Actually, you’re kinda really good at reading my emotions and making me feel better. I don’t know if it’s a talent or something. You always know exactly what I need. Thank you for that. Even today, this is exactly what I needed. I mean, it does get scary sometimes but I actually like it. So don’t stop.”

Max smiles so softly Charles wants to hug him.

“You sure?” He whispers.

“I’m sure.” Charles confirms.

Charles goes to bed that night with a smile on his face, looking at the Abu Dhabi lights outside the window. Maybe this city isn’t so bad after all.

Chapter Text

“I don't like anticipating my face in a red flush”

Winter break hits like a snowstorm. At first you have no idea that something is happening and then you wake up one morning and the world looks different. Brighter. Quieter.

When this happens, Charles usually likes to sit still for a few days to get used to the new reality where there is no race next weekend. No notes to look over, no setups to analyze, no simulator to drive. Just him and his abundance of free time against the world. 

This year, however, Charles does not feel like sitting still. It has been one week since Abu Dhabi and… Charles misses wind hitting his face. He misses his cockpit and his helmet; he even misses the g forces. And to think he was so tired of racing after Abu Dhabi. If he knew what this quiet would feel like he would never have complained.

So he does the next thing he has wanted to do ever since Abu Dhabi apart from sitting in a car and pressing the gas pedal– He texts Max.

Charles

I heard that you might be in possession of a magic 

device that heals anger and distracts from unwanted 

thoughts and feelings?

Charles

🎮⚽️😇

Max V.

i might know of a device with such powers 

but im afraid using it comes with a price

Charles

And what would that be?

Max

well, the device is attached to a very charming very

 nice and at times quite fast individual that needs

 to accompany it everywhere it goes

Max

would that be ok with u

Charles

Ugh, fine… I guess you can come too 🙄

Charles

You know the address?

The doorbell rings about half an hour later. Even though the image Charles sees at the door should be the same, Max looks different than he did a week ago in Abu Dhabi. He must’ve cut his hair because it looks shorter now. Less soft, but it makes him look younger. And he’s styled it this time. Far from the wet mess it was in the dimly lit hotel room. There’s stubble on his chin too. Has Max used Charles’ tactic of laying low for a few days until the winter break snow starts to melt in their minds? Whatever the reason, Charles likes it.

“Hi, I brought FIFA this time. You were so bad at Mario Kart the last time I figured I should at least give you a chance with a different game.” Max’s voice startles him. He forgot that Max was actually still standing at his doorstep. 

Charles scrunches his nose and motions Max to come in. “You know what? You’re lucky your playstation is cute”.

“How is it you don’t own a playstation? Were you ever seventeen and obsessive?”

Charles is a wealthy 27 year old guy, of course he owns a fucking playstation. One that is sitting in the back of his underwear drawer right now, but he’s not exactly gonna let Max know about that one.

“Why do you think I’m so bad at your games? I just never thought I’d have time to play.” Charles does, in fact play on the playstation. He’s simply horrible at it. It’s better if Max thinks he’s a newbie.

“What do you do in all those hotel rooms?”

“Sleep. Get laid. You know, grown up stuff?”

“Very funny. I get laid by the way. I have a girlfriend you know…”

“Good to know. I was starting to get worried.”

There’s a lull in the conversation while Max sets the playstation on the coffee table and starts looking around at the apartment. 

There are photos of his family hanging in the short hallway area. Various combinations of himself, his brothers, his parents. A few of different Ferrari cars. An outline of Monza. One of him and Jules next to a kart. Max stops and looks at that one longer than the others. 

“I remember this. Was it in Germany?”

“I think so, yeah.”

Max moves on to the living room slash kitchen. It’s nothing special. Not too homey. A regular U shaped couch sitting opposite a fireplace with a TV above it on their right. The kitchen and big island that also serves as a table on their left. Floor to ceiling windows overlooking the shore lead to the balcony, an infinity pool visible through them. On the far left are two doors. One to the master bedroom, and the other to the bathroom. His piano sits on the wall opposite the kitchen.

Charles likes his place. It’s chic, and modern, and everything a young person would like to have in Monaco. Right now, he feels self conscious. He feels like Max is looking at his very soul and that he is disappointed in him somehow. He needs to say something to break the silence or he will break.

“So where’s your girlfriend now?”

And what a question his brain conjured. Charles has never been more embarrassed. What does he care about Max’s girlfriend? That conversation happened like 2 minutes ago, they’re way past that. He feels his cheeks turning red and panics.

Max shrugs, still looking around the vast living room. “Home. I mean… her home. We don’t live together or anything.”

“Right.”

“I love your place. There’s so much space. I love open space plans. Jimmy and Sassy would love it here. And the view… Wow.” He starts walking towards the windows, eyes fixed on the view. 

“Please tell me those are not your girlfriend and boyfriend’s names”

“How did you know?” Max gasps in fake shock. “No, Jimmy and Sassy are my cats.” He says immediately, face breaking into a grin.

It's a thing he does every time he makes a joke, Charles has noticed. It's cute, and it's very Max. Charles can't help but smile.

“That’s cute. I didn’t know you had cats, a girlfriend and a boyfriend. When do you get to play Mario Kart with all those creatures you need to entertain?”

“Yeah, I know, add you to the list and I wouldn't have time to eat.”

“Poor you. Oh I’m such a bad host.” They've been standing here for 5 minutes and Charles hasn't offered Max anything to drink. “Would you like something to drink? Water or beer or… something.”

“Do you have Red Bull?”

Charles bursts laughing but Max doesn’t react. He's still looking at the view. The sun is shining above the water and it is beautiful.

“You have got to be joking, you don’t actually drink all that Red Bull?”

“Why not?” Max finally looks at him but his expression doesn't change. It makes something twist in Charles. “It tastes nice.” 

Of course it tastes nice, Charles loves Red Bull. He doesn't drink it all the time unlike Max. He takes two cans from his fridge and throws one to Max.

Now it’s Max’s turn to laugh. “You always keep Red Bull in your fridge or is this a special occasion?”

“Whichever you prefer Max, whichever you prefer.” Charles shakes his head. What has he gotten himself into?

The rest of the afternoon is easy. They fall into quiet conversation, order pizza and eat on the couch. The playstation sitting on the coffee table untouched. 

. . .

“Hey, so what were the unwanted thoughts and feelings?” Max asks out of nowhere. It's past midnight and Charles and Max are spawled on opposite sides of the couch. Charles can't actually see Max's face because the lights are off but maybe that's better.

“What?” 

“Why you called me here?”

Oh right, those thoughts and feelings. “You're probably gonna think it's stupid.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“I just miss it. Don't you?”

Max is silent for a while. “I guess I do. What exactly do you miss about it?”

“Everything? The speed, the adrenaline, having to do everything right, having… So many little things depend on you and your decisions. The feeling of coming out of it and you’ve done a good job–”

“What if you do a bad job?” Max interrupts.

“I don't miss that part.” Charles laughs. “For real though… Don't you miss it?”

“Yeah but… Not right now. Ask me in two weeks.”

“That makes sense. I guess I'm just restless. I'm used to moving constantly and when the season stops– everything stops. I don't like that.”

“I get that.” Max says and it really feels like he does. It feels Charles doesn’t have to say anything else.

“Did I help?” 

“Very much. Thank you.”

Charles turns on his side and looks at Max. From this angle, he almost sees Max in the light coming from behind them. It makes him look ethereal. He's smiling and turns to look at Charles too. The light catches on his eyes. They're bright and shiny. Max is bright and shiny and Charles can't believe he's here, asking if he helped with his worries. Who does that? Does Max know that when he is around, Charles can’t think of anything else if he tried? It's scary, and Charles doesn't like it.

They stay like that for 2 more hours, talking about racing and everything else but nothing at all.

———–————

“What must it be like, to grow up that beautiful?”

Although Charles is not a fan of the second stage of winter break, he particularly doesn’t like the third one. It is the ‘you get so sick you can’t get out of bed to make soup’ phase. Scratch that. Charles hates this phase. 

He especially hates it when he has a forty degree fever and the doorbell rings. As if anyone would want to visit him right now. 

It’s Max of course, because who else would it be?

“Hi… oh, you’re sick.”

“I am sick, what are you doing here? Do you want to get sick also?”

“We said we’d have dinner. Last real meal before your winter training?”

“Sorry, I forgot.” He has been kind of busy.

“Will you let me in please? It’s cold for you to be in the open like this.” 

Charles moves reluctantly. “Why are you coming in? Max, I really can’t hang out right now, I just wanna go to bed.”

Max leaves the grocery bag on the kitchen counter and walks back to Charles with a worried look. He touches Chales’ forehead and Charles jolts from how cold his hand is, but also, why is Max touching him now?

“Calm down, I’m only checking your temperature. You’re burning up.” Max says quietly and is already rummaging through Charles’ kitchen.

Charles rolls his eyes. “I know, I took 2 paracetamols, I was gonna sleep it off.”

“Good, that’s good. Even better– A-Ha– “ He exclaims when he finds whatever he was destroying Charles’ kitchen for. “I will make you some hot tea. You will drink it quickly while it’s still hot then go directly to sleep, ok? You can lay down in your room, I’ll bring the tea over.”

Charles really wants to argue, but he also really doesn’t have the strength right now, so he goes.

By the time Max comes with the tea, Charles is feeling slightly better. The medicine has started working so his ears aren’t ringing as much.

The tea is nice but extremely hot, and Charles is already sweating. Max is sitting on the bed next to the big pile of blankets Charles is under, looking at him with a small smile. He’s tucking him in unnecessarily, since Charles is already tucked in as tightly as can be. He can barely move to take a sip from the tea.

“Max, you can’t look over me while I’m sick. Go home. I’m fine.”

“Why not? Isn’t that what friends do?”

“Friends? Are we friends?”

“I thought it was obvious, silly.”

“Even so, it’s not what friends do. None of my friends has ever helped me when I’m sick before.”

“You should get better friends. And you’re in luck, because I am the best friend anyone could ask for.”

Charles can’t help but smile at that. “You really are. You’re the best.” Slowly, he feels himself getting woozy and drifting off to sleep, the mug disappearing from his hand.

He manages to open his eyes one last time to see Max, standing above him, with his beautiful blue eyes and beautiful smile. Really, how did Max become so beautiful?

“Why are you so beautiful?”

“Me?” Max laughs “Oh I think I just grew up like that.”

“Well, what does it feel like to grow up so beautiful?”

“It feels like you should go to sleep and fight that vicious cold you’ve caught.” 

“Ok, but you’ll tell me later?”

“I’ll tell you alright. I’ll tell you everything. In fact, I’ll make sure you never forget this moment.”

“Don’t open my underwear drawer.”

. . .

Charles wakes up the next morning feeling like he just raced 100 laps in Qatar. Sweaty, hungry, dizzy, and 5 kilos lighter. Now he is in the process of trying to get as much food in his stomach as possible before his fever starts going up again and the food becomes disgusting and uneatable.

“So what’s in your underwear drawer?”

“What underwear drawer?”

Max said he woke up with shivers 3 times during the night and he sweat through his clothes at least 4. Did Max have to change his underwear? That would be the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to him, and some pretty embarrassing things have happened to Charles. It would be like that one time a monkey chased him around with cameras everywhere and it became a meme, but even more embarrassing. 

“You said yesterday not to open your underwear drawer. I didn’t, of course, so what’s in it?” Max is turning towards him with raised eyebrows now and Charles has a feeling what this is about.

The playstation.

“You didn’t open it, did you?”

“I said I didn’t, but I’m considering it now that you’re awake.”

“Why are you considering it now?”

Max's eyes narrow. “Why are you worried?”

“I’m not worried, some people just don’t like other people looking at their underwear. If that’s weird then call me weird.” He pretends to be really into his food and not into this conversation.

“See, I didn’t think it was so weird, but now you’re making it weird, so I think it’s kinda weird.”

“I was hallucinating, I probably said other weird stuff too.”

“Nah, I don’t think so, of course, you said I was beautiful, but that’s not weird, you’re obsessed with me.”

Charles chokes on his food. He said what? He did not call Max beautiful yesterday. That didn’t happen. Max is placing a glass of water on the counter and turns back to the soup he’s making while Charles continues fighting for his life.

“I didn’t say you were beautiful. Did you also have a fever or something?”

“Oh yes you did. You asked me how I grew up so beautiful and made me pinky promise to give you the answer in the morning.”

“You make me sound like I was high. I did not say all that.”

“Sure you didn’t.” He turns back around “So what’s in the underwear drawer?”

“There's nothing ok? You can go look.” He says with the confidence of a man who has nothing to hide. Some other man that is, because Charles does, in fact, have a playstation hidden in the fucking drawer.

“Ok.” Max turns off the stove and starts walking backwards to the door. Charles needs to do something.

He closes his eyes trying to think of something that would distract Max.

“I said you were beautiful?”

Max stops. Silence. Charles opens his eyes to see Max standing in the space between the kitchen island and bedroom door with his head turned sideways and eyes narrowed. Charles feels like he’s in a James Bond movie and the villain is about to make his most unpredictable move ever.

Charles is fucked.

He shouldn’t have let Max in yesterday.

“Oh there’s something in that underwear drawer, what is it?” Max says quickly as if that will confuse Charles. Joke’s on Max, because Charles is already confused.

“Max…”

“Charles…”

Max is gonna do something stupid, Charles can feel it.

And he is right, because two seconds later, Max is gone from Charles’ sight and is already in his room. 

Charles chases after him immediately and catches him when he is about to open the top drawer in his cabinet. That is not his underwear drawer, but he knows nothing is stopping Max from opening every single drawer in his room right now. 

“Max, please stop. Please don’t look.”

“What? What could possibly be so bad? You got panties in here? That’s not even that bad. Charles, I got panties too. That’s not worse than calling me beautiful, that's for sure.“ Max is looking at Charles attentively while talking as if trying to figure it out from Charles’ expression. Max’s hand is still on the drawer. “Is it a thong? That’s fine too. A little funnier, but fine.” He narrows his eyes again. “A dildo? It can’t be. If it is, I want to see it. Is it red? Of course it’s red. Everything is red with you–” 

“IT’S A PLAYSTATION”

“Forza Ferr… What?”

“It’s a playstation.”

“Why would you put a playstation in your underwear drawer?”

Charles doesn’t say anything, too embarrassed.

“Wait, you have a playstation?” Max opens the first drawer but it's full of t-shirts.

“Third one.” Charles helps.

Max looks at him then at the drawer, confusion evident on his face.

He rummages and finally sees the playstation in the back.

“I lied to you that I didn't have anything to play on… Well, not directly, but it was implied when I kept texting you to come over. It’s not my proudest moment.”

“But, if you had a playstation this whole time, why would you make me drag mine from across town every other day?”

“Because it was never about the playstation? I was having fun with you and I thought… that’s how I get you to come. I’m sorry.”

Max laughs. 

“Oh Charles… Are you for real?”

“What?”

“You think I came over because I enjoyed watching you lose every game you’ve ever played? I have fun with you too. Silly.”

“You keep calling me that. Stop it.”

“You are silly. You think we’re not friends, you think I like giving you my playstation so you can play badly on it more than I like spending time with you . It’s silly.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Why would I be mad?” 

“I– “ 

Charles is interrupted then by Max’s phone chiming with a notification. 

“Shit, Kelly’s waiting for me for breakfast, I forgot. I need to go. Will you be ok on your own?”

“Of course, go, go.”

I’ll probably be back in like 2 hours, it’s only breakfast. She says if we barely see each other during winter break, when will we? I mean she’s not wrong, we do travel a lot–”

“Back? No, you don’t have to, I’m fine, healed. Thank you. You can go enjoy your day with your girlfriend. I can’t bother you any more.”

“Charles, it’s fine. I’m coming back to check on you. Besides, I will not have you call the lamp post beautiful when I could’ve been standing there. Some opportunities can not be missed.”

Charles closes his eyes. He could do with some quiet. “Please leave.”

With another smile, Max does. But his scent and the soup he made stay behind. 

———–————

“I don't like a gold rush” 

The rest of winter break passes relatively fast. Charles and Max text every day and they see each other often enough that Charles has made friends with two very adorable creatures who now meow loudly whenever they see him at the door because they love him. 

Well.

It's mostly because of the treats he brings with him every time, but Charles is not complaining.

The first time Charles met Jimmy and Sassy was on boxing day. He brought the gift for Max over– a game he was recommended at the store– and they spent all day in front of the TV (Charles only lost by a lot because he was distracted by the cats).

For New Years, Max hosted a party at Jimmy'z (because apparently they let you do that if your name is Max Verstappen) and the entire grid was invited. 

Charles had a great time, but didn't get to talk to Max very much. Which is perfectly fine because Max was the host. He had to make sure everyone was happy and satisfied. He was surrounded by people all night. 

Not people, men . At all points of the night, there was a group of men all around Max, drinking, dancing, jumping… How they didn't have enough of him is beyond Charles.

All it took was for Max to bat his eyelashes and there was a bottle of vodka being poured down a poor guy's throat.

Charles got used to it. At first, it caught him by surprise just how mesmerizing Max was for everyone around him, and how much they doted on him, but not anymore. 

It's been 3 months since Charles and Max have been… sort of friends. Are they friends? Max has actually called Charles his friend before. They've spent most of their time together, Charles almost getting addicted to having Max around. But he can't help but feel like, to Max, he’s just one of those people who follow him around everywhere trying to be his friend.

Just 3 months ago, Charles thought about Max– his rival– and worried about never living up to him on track. That their rivalry peaked when they were 12.

Now, Charles worries whether Max thinks of him as a friend. 

He's starting to lose grip of what matters the most and it's all because of Max. 

He's shaken out of his thoughts when his phone rings on the bed behind him. 

“Helloo…”

“Hi, what are you doing tonight around eight?” Max’s voice is on the other end of the call.

“Eight?” Charles looks at the suitcase currently sitting on his bedroom floor, clothes all around it. “I will be landing in Bologna and on my way to Maranello. If I manage to catch the flight that is.”

Considering the state of his room and the amount of clothes in the suitcase that would not be as unlikely as it seems. He starts throwing t-shirts in, not really caring what he wears– he'll only be there for 3 days before flying back home.

“Oh, again? I didn't know you were leaving.”

“Sorry, I forgot to mention. I'll see you at testing?”

“In Bahrain? That's 2 weeks from now.”

“Yeah, I'm… busy… before that.”

“Right. I mean, of course, me too. A lot to do before the season.  I'll see you in Bahrain.”

It's for the best. Rivals aren't supposed to be friends. You get too soft and you start doing stupid shit on track. Look what happened to Lando last year. Charles won't be Lando, everything needs to go back the way it was.

———–————

“ I don't like that falling feels like flying 'til the bone crush ”

Pierre comes over on their second night in Bahrain. It's the night after day one of testing. They're not allowed to drink but Charles is just happy to hang out with his best friend. They've been too busy to see each other this winter break, and Charles feels like half of it is his fault. 

Another way this so called friendship with Max has compromised his other relationships. 

Staying away from him was the best decision Charles could make.

Max had called a few times. Charles answered, of course, he's not cruel, but he decidedly is keeping his distance. 

They did make plans to see each other tomorrow for breakfast. Charles is only human.

“... so me and Kika are going to Tokyo between the two races.” 

Charles is trying to listen to Pierre, he really is.  

“That's nice, I love Tokyo.” The conversation lulls after that and Charles feels kinda bad. “So how was the car today? How much could you tell?”

“I don't know mate… I mean, it's better than last year after day 1, but that's not saying much is it?”

“It's not saying much but it's saying the situation is better than last year right? You can rarely tell where you stand on day one if the results are good or decent.”

“Yep, last year we knew before we even got to testing. This year we're already ahead.” Pierre laughs.

“To not having a shitty car.” They clink their water bottles”

“To the next champion eh?” Pierre turns it around on him. It's cute how excited Pierre is for Charles this season. For some reason he's got it in his head that this year is the one. Charles thinks it's a little presumptuous.

“Aaah don't do that. We don't know yet where we stand.”

“Are you kidding me? You topped the sessions all day.”

Charles rolls his eyes. “I was also the only Ferrari car on track today.” He says, eyes focused on the half empty water bottle in his hand.

“But the car felt good?”

Charles tries to contain his smile. “It really did.”

Pierre gets excited then and starts hitting and pushing him off the bed, and soon enough they're both laughing and pushing at each other like they're six, having a sleepover in one of their trailers, on a karting track somewhere in France. Not knowing that one day they would be acting like kids in a hotel room in Bahrain talking about their f1 cars and thinking about championships. 

They dreamed of it, God knows Charles did, but they never thought those dreams would come true. 

“Hey, where's Max?”

Something else that never changed. They used to talk about Max back then too. Or, Charles used to talk about Max, and Pierre used to nod occasionally and ask a question here and there. 

Mostly, Pierre cared about Max because Charles cared. 

“I don't know, probably sleeping in his room. In a different hotel.”

After their wrestling session, Charles has somehow ended up laying on his back with his shirt high on his chest and hair tousled while Pierre looks as if nothing happened to him. Charles feels like he's talking to a therapist. Maybe he kind of is.

“Ahh that explains it. How was his session? Their car has been the biggest mystery so far.”

“That explains what? What are you talking about? And I don't know how his session was, we don't talk that often.”

Pierre gives him a doubtful look. 

“Ooo kay. We're not talking about Max then, got it. That's a first.”

“Now what's that supposed to mean? You brought him up.”

“Nothing, I expected him to be here today, that's all. You've– “

“Now why would you expect that?”

“–been close. Charles, you've spent the whole winter break glued to each other. What happened?”

“We have not!!!!!” Charles is getting frustrated. This is exactly why he avoided Pierre for so long. “And nothing happened. We're not that close.”

“Yes you are. Maybe you weren't close before but you became close last season. You can't deny that. Why are you so defensive about Max all of a sudden, it's always been this way with you and him.” 

“What way? There's no way, Pierre, we're coworkers. Not even that, we're rivals. We can't be anything other than civil to each other.” Charles suddenly realizes he's getting close to yelling.  “That's all we are.” He adds more quiet.

“You know full well that's not true. You've always had something way more special than that.”

“It's called a rivalry.”

Another look. Charles is sick and tired of people giving him looks.

He rolls his eyes. “What exactly are you insinuating? I can't be friends with him during the season, so I stopped whatever friendship we were developing before it got in the way of my championship; which is the most important thing in my life by the way.”

“And you think cutting Max off will help?”

“It will… keep me not distracted.”

“So will you cut me off as well?”

“Pierre, no offense but I don't think I'll be fighting you for the championship this year.”

“Ouch!”

“Sorry.”

“That's not the reason you're cutting him off though, is it? You said he gets you distracted, that has nothing to do with the championship. Anyone can distract you. Kika distracts me all the time if you know what I mean?” Pierre wiggles his eyebrows and Charles gives him a disgusted look.

“Ew, I didn't have to know that. You're disgusting. But it's not like that between us, is it?”

“I don't know, is it?”

“No!!! What? Of course not. Eww.” Charles throws a pillow at Pierre. More like puts a pillow on his head because of how close they're sitting on the bed. “I mean, did I want to kiss him when we were kids and still figuring myself out? Sure, but everyone wanted to kiss their rivals back then it's normal…”

Pierre is awfully quiet below the pillow and Charles thinks he accidentally choked his friend to death. 

What he sees when he removes the pillow however is not much better. Pierre is not laughing anymore, looking at him with a look that makes him wish the suspicious look was back.

“Charles, it’s not. I didn't want to kiss… any of you. Much less Max.”

Charles slowly gets off of Pierre.

“I… that doesn't mean anything. I… he was… I was figuring out my sexuality and…” He looks at Pierre. “That was normal right?”

“It's normal if you had a crush on your rival. Otherwise you just… have a crush on your rival.”

“But I was a kid, I don't have a crush now .” 

Charles realizes he didnt ask a question when Pierre takes way too long to answer.

“Do I?”

“I think you gotta figure that out on your own, mate.”

Charles nods.

Pierre leaves soon after that and Charles knows there's nothing to figure out. It's clear as day.

. . .

Now that Charles is aware of his newfound reawakened feelings for Max, everything feels different. He feels dizzy with it.

He doesn't even remember getting ready for breakfast the next morning. All he remembers is that he wanted to see Max as soon as possible. Suddenly, all this time apart became too much for Charles. He wonders what Max did while they were apart. He wonders what Jimmy and Sassy were up to. He wants to know every detail about Max's day. He wants to know how his training is going. Max hates this part of racing (although not as much as he hates media duties), and it was very difficult for him to start his training. The last time they saw each other Charles had to listen to Max whine about burpees for half an hour. 

He wonders if Max is happy with the car or if his fears about them not making any progress on the balance are true. And he doesn't even want to know for his own championship– he's simply become too invested in Max's life at this point.

What he remembers the most from those 30 minutes though, is trying very hard not to think about his conversation with Pierre. How much it awakened feelings in him that Charles had done his best to forget. 

Forget that he stayed up until 2AM last night thinking about how poetic it would be if he and Max actually ended up together. Thinking about waking up in Max's room, his Ferrari shirt hanging from the door. Making dinner together and fighting about which overtake is better while watching a race from decades ago. 

Thinking about them. From bumping tyres on dirty karting tracks all around Europe, to kissing on a yacht in Monaco. A love so pure even this clear skied city would fall to its knees. 

Somewhere in between wishing and daydreaming, Charles realizes that he never forgot those feelings. He didn't even try to. He just manifested them in a different way and has now found himself in the middle of the biggest mess of his life, and it's all because of Pierre.

Because waking up next to Max, kissing on a yacht surrounded by blue, dinner parties, they all sound amazing in his head. 

But they can never be real. That story never ends well. 

Not for Charles, not for Max, not for the championship. 

It can never be. 

Charles goes to breakfast and doesn't think about how Max's eyes look exactly like the sea at Monaco pier and how he almost jumps in.