Chapter 1: At night
Chapter Text
The office was discreetly painted. That was all Charles could remember. A discreet office with a window front. It had been bright. The sun shone directly on the small table they had been sitting around. It lit up the papers on the desk.
A glimmer of hope. An end to the dark tunnel that held him prisoner. He had searched in vain for the other end, for which he had stepped inside, blinded by the sunlight and all the beauty around him. But once he had stepped inside, he lost himself in the endless corridor. There was only one way, but he couldn't find it. He was lost. Charles wandered around. Confused, lost and oppressed.
The darkness engulfed him further and further. Stripped him of all hope and dreams that he held tightly in his hands. With no sense of time, in complete darkness, he stopped and began to simply endure and surrender to the darkness and the endlessness.
He remained in one place. No one could come to him, he was so trapped in the tunnel of complete darkness. He saw no light, no way. There was only him, the darkness, the hopelessness, the oppression and the pain.
Charles didn't know how much time had passed when he caught sight of a small spark. It snapped him out of his thoughts. At first he thought it was a figment of his brain's imagination. A figment of his imagination, he was slowly going mad in this darkness.
But then the spark kept reappearing. It twitched back and forth in front of Charles, disappeared again, reappeared and each time there were more sparks that the Monegasque could see.
The sparks twitched in one direction. As if they were trying to lure Charles in one direction. He stood up, stretched out his fingers towards the sparks dancing in front of him and when one touched his fingers, he caught a male voice, blue eyes or blond hair.
It was only a few seconds, far too little to recognize the person. But the Monegasque seemed to have regained his courage. He followed the sparks through the darkness.
And suddenly, the sparks turned into lights and they grew bigger and bigger until Charles could finally make out the man in front of him who had freed him from the tunnel. His beacon in the darkness.
Max Verstappen
Charles held out his hands to the Dutchman, who only grasped his in return and pulled him completely out of the darkness. Out of the tunnel that had surrounded him. Out of the darkness that smothered him with its voices.
He found himself in the arms of a man he had never considered a savior, but who had now shown him a way out of the tunnel.
In his hands was what would free Charles from the darkness forever and ever. Tender promises on rosy lips and so much love in two blue eyes that reflected the endless sea.
And with his signature, he sealed his fate forever and ever.
It was raining in England. Max had told him that there was always so much rain at this time of year. That these gray, dense clouds were the most natural thing in England. The Monegasque lay in the arms of his beloved. A thick blanket wrapped around them both warmed their bodies on this special morning. Their shared alarm clock had already rung, but neither wanted to leave the closeness and warmth of the other.
Charles could hear Max's heartbeat. One arm wrapped around the middle of the man who had whispered promises in his ear all those months ago with tender nothings and had shown him what it meant to be loved. To be truly loved. With all the faults and rough edges that the brown-haired man possessed.
The man who had given him what he had so desperately needed all those years. A way out of the dark tunnel. A way out of a construct that could break at any moment. And what would have dragged him down into a deep fall from which he would never have emerged.
Charles felt the fingers of his boyfriend moving over his scalp. They massaged areas, tugged lightly at the tousled strands that were sticking out in all directions due to sleep and loosened small knots in them. They were a result of his restless night. After his panic attack the night before, a restless night followed. Perhaps they had both only managed just under 3 hours of sleep and Charles blamed himself entirely for that. He had asked Max the whole time to leave him alone and go to sleep. But Max hadn't listened to him and had stayed by his side.
Today was the first day that Charles Leclerc would be wearing a blue polo instead of a red one and would not be in Maranello, where the sun was shining, but in a rainy Milton Keynes in England.
He was torn out of his spiral of thought when Max stroked his arm instead of his hair. He immediately tensed and detached himself from the blond man. He put some distance between himself and the Dutchman so that he could look at him. An apology was immediately on his lips. Charles had once again disappeared into his daydreams. Max probably wanted to finally get up and get ready. He had certainly been too clingy, a burden. The world champion hadn't been able to sleep because of him.
Charles should be glad that Max had allowed him to cuddle with him. He hadn't thanked him yet. Max probably wanted to hear exactly that from him.
Before his counterpart could say anything to him, Charles folded his hands in his lap and looked at Max: "Thank you for letting me cuddle with you, Max. I'm sorry I kept you from sleeping and getting up. It won't happen again, I promise."
"Charlie. Look at me, please."
Max's voice was so soft and gentle, even though Charles had interrupted him. Normally he expected harsh words and the threat of violence, but all he got was Max's hands on his. His thumbs stroked Charles' delicate skin, the skin that was damaged by Charles' inner turmoil. When the Monegasque was nervous and restless, he began to scratch his skin with his fingers or press his fingernails into it. A stress reaction, as Max called it.
When Charles lifted his gaze and could see the endless expanse of the sea, he closed his own eyes in fear of what was to come. But instead of a hand roughly grabbing his hair to pull, push or shove him, he only felt himself being embraced. Max stroked his back and squeezed him tenderly as he spoke to him.
"Breathe in deeply through your mouth Charlie. And breathe out very slowly through your nose. Breathe with me. In...... and out...... In....... And out......"
Only now did the Monegasque realize that he was gasping for air, his whole body was trembling and tears were running down his cheeks. The last panic attack was still in his bones and he was already experiencing another one.
Exhaustion hung in his whole body. It felt as if he was paralyzed. He breathed together with Max while he heard only the voice giving him instructions. Since he wasn't being punished, he had to be doing something right. He was able to follow instructions and orders well. This meant he could avoid conflict and continue to experience appreciation and recognition.
Max held him in his arms. Even when the last tear had flowed, he held him close. But there was no pressure, no forcing him to stay there. The Monegasque knew that he could detach himself at any time if he wanted to, but when would he next experience such recognition and love as he did now?
"I promise I'll be with you and by your side all day. They're looking forward to meeting you. Christian is here and so is Hugh. Christian will just show you the factory. We'll take small steps."
Andrea and Joris had followed Charles to RedBull without batting an eyelid. Together with Max, they had told Christian about Charles' experiences. It had only increased his anger at Ferrari. The psychological violence Charles had experienced there was still unimaginable for Max and Christian. So they were both all the more relieved when Charles signed his contract. Here he would finally get what he needed to heal. And that included doing everything at his pace. From the tour of the factory to the simulators and so on.
But the Monegasque should also be able to deal with what had happened in his private life. If the guy who had mentally and physically abused Charles ever appeared in front of Max, he would stop at nothing. It hurt Max all the more to see Charles in these conditions, lost in his tunnel again without a glimpse of hope that would show him a way out. At least they had already made some progress in getting the brown-haired man to start therapy during the winter break.
Charles broke away from the other after about 20 minutes of him and Max just sitting there: "It's ok Charlie. You did a great job. I'm proud of you."
Max praised him, but he had only cost them more time. The time! The Monegasque immediately grabbed his cell phone and looked startled at the display showing the time. 9.56 am. They were supposed to be at the factory at 11 o'clock. But it would take them 25 minutes by car alone. And they still had to shower, have breakfast and get ready.
"Max..." before he could say anything else, his counterpart interrupted him with a calmness and composure that confused him. They had to be on time. They had to be there at least 10 minutes early to set a good example for everyone they would be working with. After all, they had to show that they were interested in what they were going to learn there and any paparazzi would only have good things to say about them. So why was Max so quiet? They had to hurry if they were to be anywhere near on time. And the Dutchman certainly wanted to eat something and get ready, Charles could do without breakfast. RedBull would certainly monitor his weight as strictly as Ferrari had done. It wouldn't hurt if he didn't eat anything. After all, he had eaten three meals in the last few days. He should also weigh himself again.
"Charlie. Christian has given us both the whole day off today. We can get there whenever we want. We can get ready in peace, have breakfast and then head off to the factory."
"But...? I'm a burden on the team, Max. With you and another driver, could you have spent more time on the car? I have to go to the simulator and get used to your car. Those are my tasks. I'll find my way around the factory. I'll manage, you don't have to worry about me, really."
Max sighed, it only made Charles more insecure than he already was, was he angry now? Would he finally shout at him? Punish him for his stupidity? He deserved it: "Charlie. You're not a burden on our team. They're all looking forward to getting to know you. You're part of a family Charlie. Yes, we'll be able to go to the simulator soon enough so that your car can be adapted to you. That's the most important thing. And you should feel as comfortable as possible. And that includes being able to find your way around. We're not stressed, you're not a burden to anyone, darling. Come on, let's have a shower and get ready and then I'll whip up a delicious breakfast for you."
Max got up from the bed and held out his left hand to Charles, which the brown-haired man took. While Max prepared the shower, laid out the towels, turned on the water and undressed, Charles stared at his reflection in the mirror. He had pulled Max's shirt off his body and was now staring into his reflection's eyes. Into the tear-stained, reddened brown eyes. He looked exhausted and tired. His hair was dishevelled, he looked pale and Charles hardly recognized himself.
He squeezed the shirt in his fingers and suppressed the frustration building in his stomach. Why couldn't he be normal? Why was he so weak, manipulative and useless? How could Ferrari even work with him? Mattia had always been right.
He winced as he felt Max's arms wrap around his waist. The warm, large body of his partner nestled against his back and he caught Max's blue eyes in the mirror. The endless sea in which he wanted to drown himself. That could take away all his pain and suffering. What would redeem him in the dark days he was living through.
Max released one arm from his waist and placed it on his fists. "The water is warm." Charles pulled the last of his clothes off his body and then followed Max under the warm water. The Dutchman began brushing Charles' wet hair to remove any knots before reaching for his shampoo to wash the brown hair in front of him.
In all this time, they didn't say a word to each other. The brown-haired young man just stood under the jet of the shower while Max washed his hair, applied conditioner to it and washed his body. All this intimate togetherness, which would probably have filled others with love and joy, left him completely cold. He just waited anxiously to see what Max might want from him in return. After all, you didn't do that for just any partner. Tenderness had to be earned. And if Max gave him tenderness just like that, then Charles had to do something in return to say thank you.
His train of thought was interrupted when Max put a hand on his cheek and stroked it: "Hey, we're done. I put your cozy towel out for you Charlie."
With a nod, he left the shower followed by Max who put the soft towel around his shoulders and began to dry his friend's hair with a smaller one.
Charles sat like a motionless doll on the toilet seat and let Max dry his hair and body before the blond held out his clothes. The dark blue of the top was a stark contrast to his pale skin. The logos blurred together to form a confusing field of colors that all blended together in Charles' unfocused gaze. His thoughts were already slipping away again and he desperately tried to keep them with him.
Max da dressed him as well as he could in his renewed absence. Charles was like a lifeless doll that his sister had dressed earlier when she was younger. It was also Max who, after a few more minutes of dressing himself, led them both down to the kitchen.
The only sounds in the kitchen were the clattering of Max making them a quick but tasty breakfast and the coffee machine.
Charles stared at the bowl in front of him. He ate a few spoonfuls of the yoghurt with fruit for Max while a few sips of coffee also made it into his stomach.
The tires crunched over the asphalt and the car came to a halt. Charles looked at the factory building. It looked so modern and technological. People were walking in and out and they all looked so happy. They were smiling, laughing, walking around in groups and alone and despite the rain and the gray sky, they exuded something positive.
This positivity frightened Charles. Why were they all so happy? Why could Ferrari never evoke these emotions? Had he ever been so happy when he had to go to the factory? He could no longer remember his younger self, the one who had won the first victories, the one who had come out full of enthusiasm.
In the end, they kicked him to the ground, held him down, suppressed him, nipped him in the bud and left behind a shell that only functioned, could no longer perform and with which they sailed to their doom together.
Blue eyes rested on him, the endless sea on which he was left alone with his dream. They could have had anything, he had believed that they could have done anything. The tender promises he read from their lips, which enveloped him in a belief, disappeared on this endless blue sea with the dark sky, the waves lapping the ground, sweeping him to the ground. Red blood, blood that lived for only one thing, Ferrari, flowed over the ground on which Charles found himself. He was up to his neck in the waves, lost in them. And with himself, his blood sloshed away with the waves into the endless blue of the sea.
"-ie."
"-arlie."
"Charlie."
"Charles. We're here."
Startled, he wheeled around to Max, whose hand had touched him. It was only resting on his knee, but the touch felt like it was setting his skin on fire. He jerked his legs away from Max's hand and got out of the car.
With Max at his side, they entered the factory. And as the blond had promised him, he didn't leave his side for a moment, not even when his name was called. He didn't touch Charles, which wasn't surprising after his reaction in the car. Nevertheless, he stayed with him.
"Max, Charles! Glad you're here!" Christian's voice rang out and Charles immediately recognized the man, who walked down the stairs and came towards them with a friendly smile. Charles could see how relaxed Christian was. He was still smiling and pulled Max into a tight hug, which the Dutchman returned just as tightly. The Monegasque remained standing next to him, somewhat awkwardly.
There were never such hugs or friendliness in general at Ferrari. It puzzled him all the more how easily Christian, who was in a high position of power, could hug Max. And Max seemed to really enjoy being hugged or giving a hug.
The two broke away and Charles automatically tensed up when Christian looked at him. As usual, he pushed his shoulders back, stood up straight, both feet on the floor without taking the weight off one leg and looked at Christian. The older man held out his hand to him and Charles returned Christian's gesture with his typical, trained medial smile.
"We are very happy that you are finally with us Charles. We've all been waiting for this. Some of the staff are already on vacation due to Christmas, but meeting everyone in one day is proving rather difficult. But we don't want to overwhelm you on your first day. I thought I'd show you the most important things for today and then you'll meet your engineer Hugh. Max, I wanted to talk to you again and then that's it for today."
Charles listened to him attentively and nodded at the end: "I'm also pleased to finally be here. Here's to a good collaboration."
"This is one of the rooms with our simulators. You two will soon be able to do your laps together. We want to adapt your cars as well as possible to both of you, but especially to you Charles. At the moment, the car is built to Max's preferences, simply because he is staying with us for the coming season. And it would have made no sense to adapt the car to Sergio. Our situation for the second seat was still very unclear. But now we can perfect the cars from tomorrow with both of you in the simulators and your feedback so that they will be real monsters on the track."
Charles nodded slightly with a smile that couldn't reach his eyes. Why would they adapt the car to suit him? Ferrari had never done this. He had to live with Carlos's driving preferences. And if this didn't suit him on tracks, then he had to learn to deal with it. He remembered various sessions in the simulators. How he had to fight the car for hours on end because he couldn't match the set times. Mattia breathing down his neck and a few engineers shouting at him and forcing him to be perfect. A Ferrari driver could only be perfect. Nothing else was allowed.
You drove for Ferrari?
Then you had to live Ferrari. You had to become one with the red team of the horse. With a team that brought history with it.
"That really doesn't have to happen. I'm used to driving with standard settings. After all, Max is the first driver. The car should be built according to his wishes."
Both of those present now looked at him in confusion. Christian cleared his throat and uncertainty spread through Charles. Had he said something wrong? He didn't know what means RedBull would use to punish him. What made him even more insecure was the fact that he couldn't read Christian. Over the years, he had learned to read the Ferrari staff. Whether it was facial expressions, gestures, body language or simple things like picking out tones of voice or recognizing a person's current emotional state by the way they walked.
Now that he couldn't read Christian and Max wasn't coming to his aid either, he wanted to disappear into thin air and never show up again. His brain was screaming at him to surrender. His body just wanted to leave this unpleasant situation and never return.
A hand on his back snapped him out of his thoughts and he looked startled at Max, who smiled gently at him, "You were lost in your thoughts Charlie." Charles blinked but could only nod slightly. Max always managed to free him from the endless darkness. He kicked in the door blocking his way into the light and yanked open his window to let in the light that would lead him to the exit from the darkness.
"So, you're both our number one drivers. The strategy or something like that is always designed for us to get on the podium or have to do damage limitation. That's why you'll have the same car, which is the same set-up, but little things will be adapted to both of you. You both have different preferences in your driving style and that's why it's important for us, especially for you now Charles, to work these out and integrate them into your car. We want to support you in your driving style and help you to win."
There they were again, sweet promises. Whispered with a sharp tongue. Like the red X on a treasure map, but the way there was opaque and confusing. In the end, they would get lost and never reach the X. These empty promises had been whispered in his ears for years.
We will be winners, they said.
We will be world champions, they said.
You are our il predestinato, they said.
He dreamed about it again and again in the night. Again and again they had whispered these lifeless promises in his ears. A shiver ran down his spine at these words and thoughts and he closed his eyes. Christian disappeared before his closed eyes and when he opened them again, Mattia was standing there. He smiled at him while his face contorted into an ugly grimace. His voice lulled Charles back to sleep. Sweet promises left the creepy lips. Hands reached out for him. As if they wanted to pull him back into the darkness that opened up before him. Which opened up behind Mattia. It began to swallow the older man.
The hands gripped his body and the darkness began to engulf Mattia. Red glowing eyes were all Charles could make out and the next moment he screamed as red blood splattered on him as the hands pulled him into the darkness. They grabbed his limbs and pulled him to the ground where he was completely defenceless.
Destroy what you love, they said....
This is how they loved him....
"CHARLES!"
When he opened his eyes again, which he had squeezed tightly shut in fear and shock, he found himself in Max's arms. His boyfriend was holding him close as they sat together on the floor. Confused, he looked around. Completely disoriented and confused, like a fawn that had just been born and now had to find its way around.
"Charlie."
He followed the voice and lifted his head from Max's shoulder to look at the blond man who had addressed him. His voice as always so gentle, caring and almost like a sweet song. A hand found itself on his cheek. She stroked the soft skin and wiped away the tears that had escaped from his brown eyes.
"Everything is fine. Whatever you saw isn't real. You're safe. Do you know where we are?"
He had to think for a few seconds. Words seemed to fail him and he just stared into the endless blue of Max's eyes.
"We're at the factory..." he mumbled and Max began to smile. His serious and worried expression left his face. His eyebrows relaxed again and he nodded.
"That's true. Can you name three things you see? Anything at all."
"I see you, the windows and the door."
"Very good Charlie. Do you know which room we're in?"
"In the .... simulator?"
"Yes, that's right. Would you like to tell me what you saw? You were listening to Christian and then suddenly you got all stiff, gasped and mumbled something to yourself. Then you went limp. You were unresponsive for two minutes."
Charles closed his eyes and let his head sink back onto Max's shoulder. Max always told him what had happened after such episodes, as Charles called them, in which he saw visions similar to images before his eyes. But his thoughts were still scattered. After the exercise that was supposed to pull him back to reality, he felt even more insecure and confused this time. He was visibly struggling to find his words.
But instead of being shouted at even more - after all, he was wasting everyone's time and patience - Max gave him the time he needed. He let him rest with him, stroked his back and whispered caresses to him, which washed over him like a wave. But instead of sweeping him away and drowning him in the blue sea, they brought an unfamiliar calm to his body. He had always felt so safe and protected in his friend's arms.
Max was his source of peace. His safe haven in all the chaos that reigned within him and surrounded him.
"I don't know exactly, I saw Mattia and then hands that were on arms. And it was all red and then this darkness came and Mattia wanted to pull me into it. The hands, they grabbed me, pulled me to the ground and pulled me towards this figure that was in the darkness. I think it was Mattia, I don't know.... Those arms... They were... Ferrari... they took... the suit....I..."
He felt Max nod slightly. He stroked his brown hair tenderly. Max would always understand him... He was his beacon in all this darkness. His sparks in the night that showed him the way out.
"Ferrari tried to pull you into the darkness?"
After Charles replied with a slight nod, Max moved slightly. He reached for his cell phone lying on the floor next to him, "Do you want to go home Charlie?"
Home? But he still had work to do, didn't he? Self-doubt began to gnaw at him again and he looked up to look into Max's eyes.
"Can we just do that? Surely there's still something we can do here?"
"Shht..." he stroked his cheek again with his thumb to reassure him, "You're getting lost in your thoughts again Charlie. We're done for today. We can leave at any time. I know how exhausting an episode like this is for you Charlie. Decide for yourself and your body. What do you need right now."
"I... I want to go home Max.... please..."
A kiss was breathed on his forehead after his words and he felt Max hug him closer, "Ok Charlie. We're going home."
The first therapy sessions had been completed. Charles celebrated Christmas and New Year's Eve with Max and the cats. He was finally able to relax. While Ferrari had repeatedly called him to the factory, he had to be present at various appointments, meet sponsors and go out to dinner with them, RedBull only contacted the two drivers again in the new year.
During the weeks when they were on their own, not seeing anyone or flying anywhere, Charles finally felt what it meant to no longer experience stress. His body began to recover from the strain. During those weeks, he only had a panic attack when he dreamed about Ferrari or his ex and certain things triggered him.
Max was by his side the whole time. And he was showered with love, appreciation, recognition and affection. He had never received so much in almost two years. And Max never asked for anything in return for what he gave Charles.
His therapist, a nice lady of around 40 years of age, had become his new place, alongside Max, where he could detach himself. Weekly sessions with her and Max, without whom he couldn't and wouldn't show up for the appointments and get through them, brought him his first successes and solution strategies.
"How are you two doing today?" Maria crossed her legs with a friendly smile after she had filled the teacups and pushed the plate of cookies in their direction.
Charles looked down at the cups containing the herbal tea. Its brownish color contrasted sharply with the light tone of the cups. He could see the lights reflected in the surface of the tea.
He sat on the far too comfortable sofa. A cushion was placed on his lap to cover his thighs and stomach. Since Christmas and New Year's Eve were over, he had been thinking about how much weight he had put on during the week. Ferrari had prescribed strict diet plans that even Andrea couldn't change. After all, they had strictly controlled his weight. Every kilo had to be saved in order to achieve the perfect results.
His gaze flitted to the cookies. He knew that Maria had baked them herself, but even just thinking about it made him feel anxious and nauseous. At the same time, he didn't want to appear rude, but the fear of coming across as too greedy made him swallow.
Distracted by his thoughts, he only realized belatedly that Max had already answered Maria and that they were now waiting for him. A clearing of the throat left his throat and he only felt Max place a hand reassuringly on his left knee.
"I'm fine... I think..." he said quietly. His inner demons had been particularly intense over the last few days. They brought with them the nightmares, episodes, panic attacks and thoughts that ate him up inside and left him alone in the lonely darkness.
Maria's gaze rested on him. She studied him, every little twitch of his facial expression, his body language and his emotions. Maria could read him like an open book and it frightened him to be so open to other people.
Was he just as easy to read at the weekends? At the factory?
"How was Christmas and New Year's Eve for you Charles?"
He looked uncertainly back and forth between Max and Maria. Unconsciously, he began to press his fingernails into his skin as he frantically searched for an answer that would satisfy them both. He didn't even think about his own needs. He just didn't want to get into trouble and have to undergo a punishment.
"It was really nice. Max and I were together and cooked, watched movies and series and relaxed. New Year's Eve was similar, we watched the fireworks together."
"In the days in between? How did you get on, did you do some of the exercises we talked about with Max?"
His guilty conscience immediately kicked in at this question. A shiver ran through his whole body and left him with goose bumps and a tense body looking at Max. He was just waiting for the blond to tell Maria that Charles hadn't done the exercises one day. That he was unreliable. A mistake in a system of letters and numbers.
But the Dutchman continued to stroke his knee and let Charles speak. He still smiled and gave him an encouraging nod. Still, Charles should just tell the truth. Maybe it would lessen his punishment?
"I didn't do the exercises one day, I'm sorry."
"Oh don't worry, you don't need to apologize Charles. It's perfectly all right. You can be proud that you did the exercises on all the other days. That's great progress. Why didn't you do the exercises that one day?"
"I wasn't feeling well. I know that's no excuse and I'll do better next time. Really..."
The fear in his voice triggered a reaction in Maria and Max. As Max squeezed his knee and then intertwined their fingers with the hand that was previously on his knee, Charles could see Maria sit up straighter in her chair and write something down.
"How did you feel during the day when you didn't do the exercises?"
"Guilty? I knew I made a mistake and I even did the exercises the following days more than I already did to make up for the day, but I felt so bad and I was so scared. I was... I was so scared... I didn't want to be punished. I've realized my mistake and it won't happen again. Really!"
He mumbled it over and over to himself. His hands buried themselves in his brown curls and he inevitably began to sob as all the stress of missing the day came crashing down on him. The tears ran down his cheeks and dripped onto the brown cushion on his lap as he shook all over, mumbling the word punishment over and over again.
Maria's voice penetrated his head: "What kind of punishments Charles?"
He felt Max, who had turned to him and was about to reassure him, turn away, presumably to look at Maria: "What is this question? Obviously he needs a few minutes."
"What kind of punishments Charles?" Maria only replied, repeating her question.
Charles kept opening his lips to give her an answer. Panic rose in him when he couldn't answer her and he began to pull his hair out of fear.
"Verbally, physically. I don't know... I don't know......."
The next thing he knew, Max's fingers were releasing his own from his hair. He spoke softly to him and pulled him against him when he had released his fingers. Charles didn't want to know how Max felt now. After all, he now knew that Charles was so unlovable that he got punished. That he would cause problems and that he was used to being a mistake.
The closer it got to the first race, the more restless and nervous the Monegasque became, while his panic attacks, anxiety and negative thoughts increased.
RedBull was happy with him. Charles and Max were on the same level. Both beat their times in the simulators. They were in a positive mood. They wanted to achieve another great season like 2023. Everyone was hard-working and emotions were high.
What confused Charles even more was the way he was treated. His therapist had told him that it was completely normal. He had come from a situation where he had experienced abuse. Verbal, physical and mental. Due to the long time he had experienced this abuse, he had become accustomed to it and now felt it was normal.
Admitting to himself that Ferrari had abused him had led to many tears. How could this team, for whom he had always felt pride and love, abuse him? He was the problem and not the team he would die for if they demanded it.
And so it wasn't long before Bahrain was just around the corner.
Charles entered the paddock alongside Max, Brad and Andrea. He pushed his sunglasses over his eyes and buried his hands in the pockets of his jacket. So far the fans had been friendly, if you removed the haters then the RedBull fans were very happy to see him with Max. Everyone was eager to see how the Monegasque would do and whether he would be any competition for Max Verstappen. Others were concerned for his wellbeing, everyone who drove alongside Max Verstappen left RedBull branded. They had seen it with Pierre, with Alex, with Daniel and now most recently with Sergio. They had all crumbled under the pressure.
But Charles didn't want to be the next in line. He wanted so much to feel the taste of victory on his lips. To raise the trophies to the sky and get drunk with Max in the bars of the cities.
World champion. That was still his dream. And maybe RedBull could help him finally achieve this dream.
They entered the RedBull hospitality area. The blue on his body was still unfamiliar to the Monegasque, who had actually spent his whole life eager to lend his gifts to the proud horse. He would have bled for the red team.
He bled for the team...
In a cruel and unscrupulous way....
The first free practice session went off without a hitch. As he had promised, Charles quickly got used to the car. Although he couldn't quite keep up with Max yet, first and third place were perfect for the team. Charles knew that they hadn't even come close to getting everything out of the car or showing everything they could. The gap between Max and Fernando, who was in second place, was still large. At the end of the session, they were separated by almost 2 whole seconds.
The short briefing after the session left him confused. And so he raised his hand when Christian asked if there were any questions: "Why aren't they talking about my mistakes? And not about Max's? Why is the meeting so short? We didn't even hold the meeting for a whole hour? Don't we still have to talk about the strategy for the second free practice session or about the other teams?"
And he was even more confused by the looks he received after his questions. It wasn't his first meeting with the team, but it was the first after a session. At Ferrari, they talked until shortly before the next session. Everything was criticized and put down. Those present talked about worse teams and came up with new strategies. Situational decision-making, they all called it.
"Charles. You were both great out there. That's all we can and want from you both. Neither of you made any mistakes. You're only really getting to know the car on the track now, all the drivers have new cars, we're testing and testing. You can't make any mistakes. We are all super happy with you. Especially with you. You did a really great job just now," GP smiled at him and everyone else nodded in agreement.
"I can't add anything more to that. After all, you two should still be able to recover, talk to your engineers and then have time for your trainers, etc. The strategy or similar has already been finalized and discussed with you. If anything changes spontaneously now, you'll find out in good time," said Christian behind GP.
"And besides, we don't need to worry about anyone else. Our car is flawless and a beast on the track. What do we care about other teams," interjected Max, who was sitting next to Charles and looking bored.
Christian let out a laugh at Max's statement, which would have sent Charles to the nearest grave at Ferrari. He didn't understand how recklessly Max had made such a statement. The relaxed atmosphere remained. Everyone seemed to be laughing at Max's statement.
"And that's exactly why our meetings are so 'short', Max is already impatient. Imagine if we kept him here for hours and hours," explained Hugh.
The second free practice session also went without any problems. This time they both took first and second place, almost 1.5 seconds behind third place. Charles was pulled into Max's arms and hugged tightly: "I'm so proud of you Charlie! You drove fantastically!" A short time later, he felt his friend's lips on his forehead and the Monegasque began to smile and snuggled closer to his friend's body.
RedBull was proud of him. Proud! He had finally been able to do everything right and he hadn't felt the feelings that rose up inside him for so long. Happiness, euphoria and joy filled his whole body. He was so happy he could have uprooted a tree if he had wanted to.
When Max and he crossed the finish line one after the other on Sunday and took the first two places on the podium, Charles could hardly believe it. He was finally back on the podium. A trophy, even if it was only second place, would go to the factory in Milton Keynes and find a place in the huge collection there.
When he parked his RedBull behind the No. 2 and got out, he immediately ran to his team. Arms greeted him, almost pulling him over the walls and when he finally fell into Max's arms, tears welled up in his eyes. The Dutchman leaned their helmets against each other and looked deep into Charles' brown eyes.
"I'm so proud of you Charlie. So proud. We're both going to show the others what we can do. You and me. Together. I love you Charlie."
The Monegasque nodded and snuggled closer to his friend again. Max broke away as Christian called their names and a short time later the flash of lightning fell over the two drivers. Their team pulled them close again and team photos were taken together.
As Charles stood next to Max for the photos, he was able to fix his gaze on those who had once been his team and dream. Their eyes literally burned into Charles' body. Burning the blue suit of his new team and leaving him defenseless and naked before the hungry eyes of society, who were just waiting for him to be thrown to the ground in his team and suffer the same fate as everyone else before him who had been in the same team as Max Verstappen.
There was anger in the eyes of his former team members. But what upset him the most was Carlos. The Spaniard was standing next to Lando, George and Daniel. The Spaniard's brown eyes burned into Charles' body. The eyes of the others kept darting to him. Carlos looked at him almost with a cynical grin on his lips, filled with frustration, anger and resentment.
Almost automatically, the ground was torn from under his feet when he saw the other drivers' eyes on him. They were talking, laughing and Charles suddenly felt like the center of attention in the entire paddock. They were talking about him. Was Carlos telling lies about him out of frustration and jealousy? Were they pitying him for his place at RedBull? Were bets being placed on how long he would last next to a talent of the century like Max Verstappen? When the Dutch lion would break him like a zebra in the wild? When RedBull would destroy him and then dispose of him like worthless garbage at a truck stop?
Max placed a hand on his lower back to guide him as gently as possible behind the podium. The time to the podium passed as if in slow motion, which the brown-haired man experienced from a different perspective. His body simply worked. Only when it was his turn to step onto the podium did he seem to return to his body and it made him shudder.
The audience cheered as he stepped onto the podium and it made him forget how he felt, at least for a moment. All his worries and problems disappeared in the endless cheers of the fans, drowned out by the Dutch anthem. The trophy in his hands overshadowed all the faces of the teams and fans.
But the only thing that couldn't overshadow it was the red of a team that had made him bleed...
Over the coming weekends, it became clear which team would once again have the upper hand this year. Charles and Max were in a league of their own. Bahrain was followed by Saudi Arabia, Australia, Japan and China, where they both took the top two places on the podium. Max managed to knock him off first place each time with his elegant style. In Miami, Charles was able to work his way up to the first step of the podium.
He had taken everything in his stride. Leaving scars on his old team and burning their history from his mind. And at his side, the familiar blue of the endless sea that no longer swallowed him up, he had begun to tame it. And the darkness also left his thoughts. The small sparks had become huge lights and always showed him the way out of the darkness.
He finally wanted back what they had taken from him. And he didn't care what they thought of him now.
But when the Monaco weekend came around, everything he had built up over the last few months was shattered within a few hours...
The training sessions showed that they would have no problems on this track either. One thing was clear to both drivers. Whoever finished the qualifying better would help the other to take the win. The two had agreed this rule by mutual agreement.
Charles was on his way to the garage to prepare for qualifying when a hand closed around his mouth and he was pulled into one of the many side aisles and finally into a dark corner. He fought back with his hands and feet, but the stranger was much stronger and with a loud bang his head collided with a wall.
Everything spun before his eyes as he was grabbed by the hair and pulled away from the path, colliding with it again and again. His head throbbed, he felt something warm run down his face and when it hit his lips and he could taste it, he knew it was his own blood.
"Oh you're still as weak as the last few years Charlie~"
Startled, he drew in his breath as the familiar dark voice whispered in his ear, causing him to freeze as panic spread throughout his body. Adrenaline shot through his body and made colorful dots dance before his eyes.
He would recognize that voice anywhere.
Carlos Sainz
He whimpered as Carlos pulled him away from the wall by his hair again. He pressed closer to him and his other hand, the one that wasn't clutching his hair, slid up his chest to his neck. It closed around his and with a rough laugh against his neck, the Spaniard squeezed.
Charles closed his eyes, tears already streaming from them. He gasped for air as a panic attack began to set in. It paralyzed his body and made him tremble. He was completely defenceless and helpless in one of the many nooks and crannies of the paddock. No one would come to his aid. Why should they? They had all moved away from him. The only one he had left was Max. And his friend would never know where he was and come to his aid.
Carlos seemed to know that too, because when Charles almost choked, he released his hand and began to pull the blue racing suit off his body.
"Look at you. Fat and misshapen. Not even 7 months ago you were so beautiful, with your porcelain skin, your brown curls and eyes that shimmered like honey in the light. And now look at you. Instead of red, you wear this ugly blue and let yourself go. No one controls you anymore, are you completely helpless?" he whispered in his ears and pressed himself closer to his back.
"It's probably not good for you that you're no longer loved by Ferrari, isn't it? They gave you everything you needed. But you turned your back on us. As if RedBull could ever love you as much as we do. Max only loves you because you're so easy to see through. You're a victim. So easy to manipulate and mold. You're an easy mark for him. They will break you. Ferrari only loved you. They wanted the best for you. You were our Il predestinato. Our little Ferrari prince. Maybe you just need it again huh? A hard kick into reality? Your little ex-boyfriend who abused you green and blue?"
A sob escaped him and Carlos laughed.
"Is that your only answer Charlie? A pathetic sob? I thought your years at Ferrari taught you manners? But apparently 7 months is enough time to forget all our principles."
He wanted to scream, kick and run away, but all he could do was close his eyes and hope it would all end soon. But Carlos wouldn't let go of him and kept whispering things into his ears that made him go deaf, coupled with well-directed blows and a hand that kept running down his body.
"Oh look at that. Your little ex-boyfriend is here~"
Carlos grabbed his hair and jerked his head to the left so he could see his ex, who seemed to have noticed the whole spectacle, leaning casually against the wall and stepping towards them.
"Hello Charlie. Haven't seen you for a while? Where's your little Dutchman, eh? Oh, isn't he coming to your rescue from us bad boys?"
Charles' eyes widened and he shook his head back and forth in panic as he got closer and closer to him. Carlos had his hand pressed over his mouth and the sounds he was making were stifled.
"Look how happy he is to see you!" laughed Carlos and the next moment he felt his ex-boyfriend's hand in his pulled-down racing suit. Disgust shot up inside him. Not even Max had touched him like that. The touch burned his skin like fire and he felt his stomach begin to rebel. He retched and the two of them immediately backed away from him as he threw up on the floor. He had crouched down. Every movement hurt, every retch brought more tears and he shook all over.
Fingers reached into his hair and pulled him up again: "Just as useless and disgusting as ever. Thought you'd get used to it. But obviously he hasn't been hard on you in the last few months, huh?"
Somewhere a cell phone alarm rang and Carlos pulled his phone out of his pocket: "Oh how nice, qualifying is starting. Have fun Charlie, you're going to miss this one. But you're living up to your reputation as a hooker. I can understand why you'd rather have a cock than drive for your new team," he waved his cell phone in Charles' face before leaving him alone with his ex in the dark corner.
He closed his eyes and thought only of those beautiful blue eyes reflecting the ocean and how his sparks showed him the way out.
But neither the ocean nor the sparks came to his aid this time...
It was dark when he regained consciousness. He was alone. Slumped against the same wall where Carlos and his ex had abused him. Everything spun as he moved. His muscles ached. Every movement felt like an endless struggle.
Why hadn't anyone found him? Why hadn't anyone helped him? Was he not worthy of such love?
Sobs left his lips. Tears ran down his cheeks and he tried to sit up. His body refused, but he managed to prop himself up on his arms. His eyes darted across the alley and he caught sight of his cell phone, or what was left of it to be more precise.
His arm trembled as he reached out for the cell phone. He just managed to get hold of it. It was completely destroyed and useless. Suddenly anger bubbled up inside him and he threw it against the nearest wall, where it shattered completely and lay in pieces on the floor.
As he tried to sit up, everything blurred before his eyes and he regretted having asked so much of himself so quickly as his eyes closed and he slumped back onto the floor, unconscious.
Hands.
He was being moved.
Someone was touching him.
With a jerk he opened his eyes and with a sharp cry, dripping with fear and pain, he pulled away from the hands that held him. When he opened his eyes again, which he had squeezed tightly shut in fright moments before, he could see his rescue.
Max was kneeling at his side, his phone lying on the floor next to him and the Dutchman had pulled his hands back to his body.
"Charlie... shhht. It's me.... I found you... You're safe now... I've been looking for you for so long. We were all so worried about you Charlie..."
And when his brain finally understood that it was really Max who was with him, who had found him and would now save him, he reached out and slumped against the blond man. Immediately the arms closed around him and Charles was enveloped in warmth and safety.
"I'm so sorry Charlie..." was the last thing he heard before his body, through all the stress, pain and trauma, surrendered back to the darkness that welcomed him with open arms.
Nothing was the same after that weekend. The bridge he had built over the last few months broke beneath him and every day he fell deeper into the endless nothingness.
Every time he looked into the blue eyes, he saw himself again in the roaring water that pulled him down into its dark depths. The waves licked at his body again. He saw Carlos, his ex or Mattia everywhere and he lost himself in the floods that wanted to crush him.
RedBull and Max were by his side. They fought for him when he couldn't.
His thoughts circled in his head.
7 days to go...
Max had placed another blanket over his shoulders. The blond man knelt in front of him on the light-colored carpet. When were they actually going to replace the carpet? The red didn't fit in with the apartment. It reminded him of it every time. When a hand placed itself on his right knee, he flinched and looked into Max's blue eyes.
The sea.....
The water....
"Charlie," his name snapped him out of his thoughts and this time he really focused his gaze and attention on Max, who was now holding a bowl of soup in his left hand. Hadn't it been resting on his knee before?
"Eat a little something. You only ate a few slices of a banana yesterday."
The silver spoon that lay so perfectly in Max's large hand was dipped into the soup and then held in front of his lips after Max had blown a little on the contents to cool it down.
How ironic that it was tomato cream soup of all things, Max had cooked it especially for the two of them.
He opened his mouth and let himself be fed a little of the soup over several spoonfuls. It seemed to soothe Max's troubled soul that Charles ate a little.
6 days to go....
He saw his therapist Maria every third day. RedBull insisted on this. However, he had to complete most of the sessions with her alone. Max continued to win races.
For both of them, as he had called it. The attack on Charles had made waves. With the exception of Ferrari, all the teams had spoken out in favor of the Monegasque and offered their full support.
Maria pushed his teacup towards him. They were at Max and Charles's house. It was the only place where he felt safe enough to be alone.
"How are you feeling today?"
He hugged the pillow to his chest and let his head sink into it as he considered the words again and put together an answer.
"Empty.... Tired... Restless... Dissolved.... And it hurts..."
"Mhm... and you know what hurts?"
"My head... my limbs and muscles. My... my heart...." Tears were on the way. He had cried so much in the days since the attack that he still had tears left, which surprised him greatly.
"So your heart. Does it always hurt or especially when you are reminded of the attack?"
He lifted his head and looked into Maria's green, brown, empty eyes. They sparkled, seemed so full of life and then he came. He had made it out of bed and had put on one of Max's sweaters.
"Every time I look into those blue eyes. Into this endless sea with its infinite depths. Every time I see that wave swallow me up and pull me back to where I won't feel any more pain..."
"Is there a trigger for these blue eyes?"
He nodded and pointed to the pictures and trophies that were in her apartment.
Maria looked around and then turned back to Charles to reach for her cup and take a sip from it.
"I take it the trigger is Max?"
Another nod and the rest of the conservation disappeared into nothingness.
5 days to go...
He was alone today. Max was somewhere in the world. He no longer knew where. He no longer cared either.
He had received his sleeping pills from his pharmacy. They were sent to him and so he only had to open the box to hold the box with the tablets in his hands.
One every night before going to bed.
He pulled the grid with the tablets out of the packaging and stared at the white pills.
He had best test out their effect.
After all, he only had four days left...
The tablets took effect within 30 minutes. One tablet had a good effect. Nevertheless, he would take 10 to be on the safe side. After 3 tablets, he had slept for almost 14 hours. They were perfect for his plan.
Soon they would finally be free of him.
He lowered the pen. It landed on the wooden table with a clatter. His eyes caught sight of the endless sea in front of him. It glistened in the sun that was high in the sky. He hadn't felt the warmth it radiated on his skin for a long time.
He should take a walk around the harbor.
But he still had three days...
Max had returned. They lay snuggled up together in their large bed.
Gentle hands stroked over his back and through his hair.
"Can we go to the harbor?" the question left his lips before he could think about it. Max certainly didn't feel like it, why would he want to show himself outside with him? Charles was a freak and a wreck. Was the blond already cheating on him with a pretty brown-haired young woman?
"We can do that Charlie. Whenever you're ready."
The answer surprised him to the core and he just nodded and snuggled closer to Max's chest.
That same evening, they walked along the harbor and the sea. There wasn't much going on in the evening. Charles' eyes caught sight of anchors and ropes.
Perfect, so he didn't have to bring anything so conspicuous with him.
Nevertheless, he should have decided in two days whether it would be a rope or the anchor...
He took out the letter he had started, could it even be called a farewell letter?
He had read that people would write their place in it, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to yet.
Surely the endless depths would carry him so far away that he wouldn't be found anyway. Where was the best place to put the letter?
Last evening, he put the letter on the dining room table with the pen Max had given him and one of her many pictures.
He would have to wait one more day....
The day had finally come. Everything was in place. He had canceled Maria. He had an appointment he had to keep. He took the tablets and his water bottle down to the harbor.
When he arrived at his place, he wrapped the anchor's chain around his body and sat down next to it at the edge of the harbor basin.
When the moon was at its highest and the water had turned the darkest color it could be, he washed down the pills with some water. He had left all his valuables in the apartment, so the only thing left behind was his water bottle and the empty packet of tablets when he dropped the anchor into the water.
He looked up at the sky and down at the water one last time as he jumped in.
And at night, the endless blue greeted him with open arms. The waves crashed over him and he lost himself in the depths of the sea.
And I think it was all too much for me
And I was up to my neck in it
That's why I lost myself
But don't cry when I'm gone
Because I took everything with me when I left
Destroy what you love
That's how you loved me
It hurt me so much
I never told you that
I cried in secret
I could have had it all
I think it could have worked out
I know it could have worked
Chapter 2: We burn it down
Summary:
People say revenge isn´t the answer.
Well it was for me.
Notes:
Finally the expected second and last part. There should never be a second part, but we all need our happy ending. I hope it was what you imagined.
Please let me know what you think. And now I hope you enjoy this chapter!
Taggs have been updated to reflect the status of this chapter. Minor errors have been fixed in the smut scene. It was originally for a Lewis x Max Story which never saw the World :)
Chapter Text
And I think it was all too much for me
And I was up to my neck in it
That's why I lost myself
But don't cry when I'm gone
Because I took everything with me when I left
Destroy what you love
That's how you loved me
It hurt me so much
I never told you that
I cried in secret
I could have had it all
I think it could have worked out
I know it could have worked
It was all so quiet. He heard no rustling, no noises, he only felt the icy cold that surrounded him. The water that drew him into the depths. He had always imagined death to be so peaceful. To disappear into a complete void, to fall asleep in the darkness and never have to wake up again in this cruel world that had taken everything he had ever loved.
Would the anchor ever be able to pull him to the bottom of the sea? Or would he fall unconscious first and never live to see him sink deeper and deeper?
Slowly, he felt the effects of the pills. They made him drowsy and he finally wanted to close his eyes and fall asleep peacefully.
But before he fell asleep completely, his body becoming more and more paralyzed by the overdose of pills and his breathing reflexes or panic not kicking in to keep him alive, he felt hands.
Fingers that wrapped around his arms and wanted to pull him back up. Up? He didn't want to go back up....
But he couldn't fight back. His body felt so light and weightless in the dark blue of nothingness and cold.
He was all the more shocked when he felt the cool night air of Monaco on him, more and more hands gripping him. All he wanted was to fall asleep peacefully in the arms of a deep blue without having to wake up again.
His consciousness slipped away with every minute he spent on the surface. He was lying on a hard surface. Stones perhaps? His vision was blurred, colors mixed together into a mush. Voices reached his ears, but he couldn't understand them. Were there several voices? Or just one? He didn't know.
He found it increasingly difficult to breathe. He struggled trembling for air, but he couldn't get any into his lungs. His body twitched and cramped as he tried to keep himself alive. Beneath the confusion that he could only slightly and fragmentedly perceive, he recognized a voice, saw a pair of familiar blue eyes that were supposed to greet him in eternal darkness and free him from all his suffering.
He wanted to stretch out his hands to the angel who would accompany him to his death, but he did not know whether he had really lifted them. His body was dragged into infinite darkness before he could feel or hear anything as his eyes closed and his body went limp on the cold stone floor of the port of Monaco.
Charles opened his eyes. The Monaco sun blinded him and he turned to the other side of the double bed to avoid the sun's rays. He rubbed his eyes with his left hand and as they adjusted to the brightness he could make out the shape of Max lying in bed next to him.
He could see Max, relaxed and sleeping soundly. His chest rose and fell slightly with every breath the older man took. The brown-haired man gently reached out a hand towards the blond to brush a strand of hair from his face. He actually wanted to pull his hand back, but Max was so warm and soft. Alive... he looked like an angel. The sun lit up his hair, it literally glowed and his fair skin looked like porcelain. The sun had warmed it and Charles couldn't stop himself from stroking his friend's cheek, forehead and finally his soft hair.
Awakened by the movement and the touch on his skin, the endless blue eyes Charles loved so much opened. They were still a little unfocused, but as the sleep slipped from them, a smile crept onto the soft pink lips of his counterpart.
"Charlie..."
Brown eyes met blue. But the serious expression with which Max looked at him made him feel uneasy. Why was he looking at him like that? Had he done something wrong? Max sat up. The warmth disappeared from his face, the sun left his body and left behind a cold shell. The blue eyes that had looked at him so lovingly just a few seconds ago turned into dark, dirty water.
Max bent over him and one hand touched his left cheek. Charles had tried to press himself as deeply as possible into the pillows to avoid Max, but he kept him pressed under him. He wouldn't be able to escape. Max would hold him tight.
The sun, which had previously disappeared behind dark clouds, reappeared and with it Max, who looked down at him like an angel and stroked his cheek lovingly.
There was sadness in his blue eyes, which glistened in the sunlight and reminded the Monegasque of the light blue water in Ibiza. Of beautiful and carefree times. Where everything was so easy and he was happy.
He was taken back when Max spoke to him. "Charlie... you were here for a long time, huh? You need to come back slowly. Your Max is waiting for you..."
Charles looked up at Max in confusion. Why should he leave? He was exactly right here. Free of all worries and with Max by his side.
"You're dreaming Charlie... and you've been dreaming for a long time. You're terribly missed darling. It's time to wake up again Charlie..."
Max, the room and everything around him began to blur. Darkness gripped him and Max's voice reached his ears. It seemed distorted and full of holes. It kept failing and words were missing from his sentences.
"Please come back to me Charlie... please..."
Charles didn't know how much time had passed when he caught sight of a small spark. It snapped him out of his thoughts. At first he thought it was a figment of his imagination. A figment of his imagination, he was slowly going mad in this darkness.
But then the spark kept reappearing. It twitched back and forth in front of Charles, disappeared again, reappeared and each time there were more sparks that the Monegasque could see.
The sparks twitched in one direction. As if they were trying to lure Charles in one direction. He stood up, stretched out his fingers towards the sparks dancing in front of him and when one touched his fingers, he caught a male voice, blue eyes or blond hair.
It was only a few seconds, far too little to recognize the person. But the Monegasque seemed to have regained his courage. He followed the sparks through the darkness.
And suddenly, the sparks turned into lights and they grew bigger and bigger until Charles could finally make out the man in front of him who had freed him from the tunnel. His beacon in the darkness.
Max Verstappen
Charles held out his hands to the Dutchman, who only grasped his in return and pulled him completely out of the darkness. Out of the tunnel that had surrounded him. Out of the darkness that smothered him with its voices.
He found himself in the arms of a man he had never considered a savior, but who had now shown him a way out of the tunnel.
In his hands was what would free Charles from the darkness forever and ever. Tender promises on rosy lips and so much love in two blue eyes that reflected the endless sea.
With a breath that made him cough, he opened his eyes and was greeted by a bright white ceiling, light that blinded him and his mom looking down at him with tears in her eyes and relief just so audible in her voice.
"Charles... Max will be right back with you darling. You mustn't go back to sleep."
Max had received a call from Maria informing him that the appointment had been canceled. She had shared her concerns about Charles' suicide and the Dutchman had traveled back to Monaco as quickly as he could.
He had found the letter and all the valuables in her apartment and had immediately rushed down to the harbor where he had just seen Charles jump into the water.
Max held his hands tightly in his as he told Charles about the terrible night. How he had jumped in after him to save Charles and how passers-by had helped him pull Charles out of the water and tend to him as they waited for the ambulance.
Charles looked into Max's dull and empty blue eyes. The Dutchman looked pale, haggard and exhausted. At no point had Max left him alone. He had acted against the advice of doctors, nurses, Charles' family or other drivers, and remorse welled up inside him when he saw how badly Max was actually doing. Nobody wanted to pull their own boyfriend out of the water and have to resuscitate him in front of people they only knew from the TV.
Charles had been put into an induced coma due to his overdose of sleeping pills and damage to his lungs from the water, which had left him with pneumonia. His body had been too weak to recover in an awake state.
When Max told him about the days that followed his jump, he began to feel unusually empty and calm. As if the cry he had made had made him heard. He would finally get more help than he had ever imagined.
6 months had passed since Charles had tried to take his own life. Over the last few months, the Monegasque had had repeated nightmares. Of the deep endless masses of water, a team that made him bleed and the incident in the paddock with Carlos and his ex-boyfriend.
He had been admitted to intensive care and had learned so much about himself and his body in the two months he had been there. And one thing was now clear to the Monegasque.
People said that revenge was not the answer.
For him, it was exactly the right solution.
His revenge train was about to begin and he would burn everything in front of him. The 2025 season would be his. And if he had to walk over dead bodies. The old Charles Leclerc, who had submitted and accepted everything, was gone. The intensive therapy and the support he had received from Max, Red Bull and his family had made him an even stronger person. And now it was finally his time to prove it to everyone.
It was raining in England. Max had told him that there was always so much rain at this time of year. That these gray, dense clouds were the most natural thing in England. The Monegasque lay in the arms of his beloved. A thick blanket wrapped around them both warmed their bodies on this special morning. Their shared alarm clock had already rung, but neither wanted to leave the closeness and warmth of the other.
Charles could hear Max's heartbeat. One arm wrapped around the middle of the man who had whispered promises in his ear all those months ago with tender nothings and had shown him what it meant to be loved. To be truly loved. With all the faults and rough edges that the brown-haired man possessed.
When he realized these thoughts, he had to smile slightly against his friend's chest. He had had the same thoughts a year ago.
With a newfound energy, he detached himself from the blond man next to him, who grumbled and snuggled back into the pillows and blankets. With a laugh, Charles leaned down and kissed Max's cheek, which wasn't hidden under the blanket the Dutchman was hoarding around him.
"We have to get up Maxie. I haven't been to the factory for so long. I've been missed and I want to finally get back in the car."
Max opened his eyes and looked up at Charles after he had turned onto his back. He smiled too and his blue eyes shimmered at him like the beach in the Maldives. Bright, turquoise and like an oasis of peace and love.
"Since when have you been rushing me to get up and get ready Charlie. What a cheek. You have to convince me with kisses to leave this wonderfully soft and warm bed now."
It made Charles laugh again and he propped himself up on the bed with his forearms, trapping Max's head between his arms as he leaned down and began to cover every inch of his face with little kisses. The last kiss he gave the Dutchman connected their lips. He closed his eyes as Max's hands buried themselves in his hair. He pressed him closer before their tongues touched and entwined in a wild and sensual dance.
Max reached beneath the light sheet covering them and let his hand find Charles’ hip. His fingers skated across bare skin. The monegasque shifted onto his stomach again, this time letting his leg drape over Max. He moved his hand to rest under his thigh, pulling his leg up a little higher.
Charles’ eyes popped open as he felt Max’s dick, hard and already leaking precum, brush against the inside of his thigh. He propped himself up onto an elbow and looked at him, eyebrows raised.
“What?” The dutchman asked, grinning widely. “With someone like you sleeping next to me what did you think was going to happen? Come on, Charlie, can you really blame me? Look at you.”
“Max,” Charles hummed. He leaned down and pressed a line of kisses against his jaw. “You are so fucking insatiable.”
“Again,” Max replied, his voice catching in his throat. “Your fault.”
Charles gave an overexaggerated gasp and pulled away from his jaw. The blond man laughed and placed a hand on the back of his head, pulling him down for a kiss. A deep, bruising, passionate kiss. Charles moaned quietly into his mouth.
Max gripped his hips and pulled him onto his lap, both of Charles legs straddling his thighs. He deepened the kiss, letting his tongue flick against the brown haired man. He made a noise in the back of his throat and pressed back against him. He gave a lazy roll of his hips.
“Jesus,” Max grunted, pulling away. Charles attached his lips to the column of his neck instead. He pulled a gasp out of him as he let his teeth graze across the sensitive skin there. The blond man bucked his hips up on instinct. “Charles, it's too early for you to tease me.”
“Then why don’t you do something about it,” his boyfriend responded, pulling away from his neck with a smirk.
Max hesitated for about a second and a half before flipping them over. He glued their bodies together, pinningCharles’ hands above his head. He squeezed them before running his fingers down down his arms and sides to his hips. He squeezed them once before kissing him again.
“I love you,” he whispered against his clavicle. Charles shivered beneath him and trapped his bottom lip between his teeth. He squeezed his eyes shut and willed himself to keep his head on his shoulders.
“Maxie please,” he gasped, bucking his hips against. “I need to feel you.”
Max just smirked against his skin and nipped at his hip bone. The monegasque gasped and whined, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Please don’t tease,” he all but begged. “Please. I just want you this morning. Just you. Please, please.”
“Okay, baby,” he nodded against his side, his curls tickling him. Charles giggled at it and shied away from him. It made Max grin. He ran his hands up his sides and kissed him again, gently this time. Charles curled around him, squeezing his shoulders. He hooked a leg over Max and flipped them over again.
“You’re so fucking hot,” Max hummed as he kissed across his chest. He blindly reached for the lube still sitting on the nightstand from last night and flicked open the cap. Max grabbed it from him as he pushed himself up on his elbows, knocking Charles back on his haunches.
“What the hell did I do to deserve you?” Max asked as he slicked himself up before tossing the lube to the side. He gripped his hips and pulled him forward before adding, “Fuck, you’re so hot.”
Charles threw his head back and moaned at the ceiling as his boyfriend lowered him onto his dick. He dug his fingernails into his chest and dragged them down to his sides. He paused as he bottomed out, breathing heavily. Max ran his hands up his stomach and pinched his nipples. Charles yelped and looked down.
“You’re squeezing the life out of me, baby,” he said, smirking slightly. He flicked his thumbs over his nipples again before sliding his hands back down to his hips. He guided him to start moving, slowly at first.
“Oh fuck,” Charles gasped. He sucked in a sharp breath and held it in his lungs. He could feel everything. The sweat gluing their skin together, the fine hairs covering Max chest, and the way his cock was fucking throbbing inside him. It overwhelmed him almost to the point that he thought he might just fucking explode.
He leaned down, moaning as Max dick pressed right against his prostate, and kissed him. Hard and passionate. The dutchman gave a shallow thrust, making Charles cry out. He whined into his mouth again.
“Maxie,” he gasped, rolling his own hips.
“Make yourself feel good, Charlie ,” he said, squeezing his hips. “God, you’re so beautiful.”
“Max,” he whined as he settled into a pace. He dug his fingers into his shoulders and ground against him. He guided him with his hands on his hips. Charles melted against him, becoming putty in his hands.
He flipped them over and pressed him back into the mattress. He pressed their chests together and gently thrust into him. It was lazy and slow and exactly what they both needed.
“Maxie,” Charles gasped as he wrapped his arms around his back. Max kiss turned gentle. He kept his pace, pausing only to look into Charles’ eyes. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” Max smiled, shaking his head. “You just… you feel so fucking good, Charlie. I needed to stop before I came too fast.”
“Don’t hold back,” he shook his head. He squeezed Max’s bicep. “Please, I need it so bad.”
Max hiked his legs up over his shoulders but kept his slow and steady pace. He rolled his hips one more time before snaking a hand between their bodies. He wrapped his hand around Charles’ dick and jerked him slowly, in time with his thrusts.
“Come on, Charlie,” he grunted into his ear. “You’ve been so good for me. Let go.”
He came with a cry, his entire body tensing and convulsing. Max fucked him through it, bringing himself to his own orgasm.
“Max,..” Charles gasped as he collapsed on top of him. “Max, my legs are cramping.”
“Shit,” he swore, quickly laying his legs back down. He ran his hands over the muscles, working the tension out of them. “I’m sorry, baby.”
“Don’t be,” Charles shook his head as he ran his hand through Max blond hair. “God, I love you so much.”
“You’re always so good for me,” Max smiled, cupping his cheek. Charles placed his hand on top of his and pressed a kiss to the heel of his palm.
Charles felt his heart explode with love and adoration for the dutchman.
The news that Lewis would be leaving Mercedes at the end of the 2024 season shocked Formula 1 fans around the world. Charles, on the other hand, was not surprised. Talks between Fred and Lewis had already been taking place since 2023. What surprised the brown-haired driver, however, was why he switched to the red team.
The incident between Carlos and Charles was made public by a tabloid from Spain. It had made big waves. Charles had to go to court and reveal everything about the situation. As a result, Carlos had to leave Formula 1 with immediate effect. And so there was a vacancy that naturally had to be filled in the 2025 season, and it came in handy for Ferrari that Lewis wanted to leave Mercedes.
When the news was confirmed by the FIA and reported all over social media, Charles inevitably slipped back into the limelight. Max had forbidden him to use his cell phone for social media. But perhaps this wasn't such a bad thing, as the Dutchman and Monegasque took to their simulators during the worst waves and drove each other into the ground.
Who would be the champion this season was unclear. Red Bull treated them both equally with no exceptions and so the drivers had to win fairly and without outside help and show who had the most luck to end up on the podium and ultimately be world champion.
And that's exactly what they proved. Because at the end of the season, exactly 4 points would separate the winner from second place....
In his therapy, Maria advised Charles to get rid of his things that reminded him of Ferrari or his ex-boyfriend. She described it as a release of memories and a burning of memories. In the evening, he sat with Max in her apartment in England. The Dutchman had his arms around him and held him close as they cuddled together on the sofa. The carmine was burning in the background, transforming the room into a play of red, orange and yellow.
Max held the second part of their book series in his hand. They had started these reading evenings together when Charles had been in intensive therapy. Max would read while Charles listened to him. During therapy, all the sessions had made him tired, but without Max by his side, he had trouble falling asleep and staying asleep, which was why the Dutchman had gone to see him as often as possible. In the course of this, she had also started this ritual.
Charles opened his eyes and looked silently for a few minutes into the crimson that warmed them and illuminated them with a soft light. "I want to burn my contracts and throw away everything I can associate with them or him, Max."
Below him, the Monegasque could feel Max putting the book aside after placing a bookmark on the page he had stopped on.
"That sounds like a great idea darling. Let's start first thing in the morning here in England, shall we? I'm looking forward to it. I never liked that ugly red on you anyway. Blue looks much better on you darling. You look like my little king."
The next moment he felt Max's lips on his and it brought a smile to his lips. "You would help me?"
Max nodded immediately and stroked his cheek. "Of course I would. I would have been so angry if I hadn't been allowed to help Charlie," the blond man announced with a laugh, which also made Charles laugh.
If you had told Charles 7 months ago that he would be breaking into the Ferrari factory site with Max, Lando, Oscar, Pierre, Yuki, Daniel, George and Alex, all dressed in black and armed with spray cans. He would probably have laughed and declared them crazy.
Why was the Monegasque now in this exact situation? He had just climbed over the fence with Max's help and thrown Pierre his rucksack. Their destination was the glass facades that Ferrari was so proud of.
Quietly and as cautiously as possible, they crept across the grounds and reached their first destination. In front of them were the windows that had held Charles prisoner all these years with no way out. For a brief moment he looked inside and was greeted with one of his own cars standing innocently in the dark hall, touched and stained by everyone with Charles' own tears and the hopelessness that had frozen him.
He pulled himself out of his thoughts and pulled on his mask.
In retrospect, he had never had so much fun in his life as he did now. They had smeared Ferrari in several places. Expletives, explicit images and much more now adorned the building. They had immortalized themselves and their art on it.
And as they left the grounds, their laughter still echoing across the meadows and through the forest, he felt more infinitely free than he had in years. As if the last remnants of his grief, anger and fear had fallen away.
"Have you seen and heard it? You can't get the paint off. Ferrari has to completely replace the windows, but that will take time. After all, they were specially made," Lewis told the drivers at the next drivers' parade around the track.
"What, really? That's a real shame. How long do they have to put up with this now?" asked Pierre with a grin on his lips.
Lewis let out a sigh. "At least six months. Really, whoever it was was so tasteless," he shook his head and turned away while the drivers behind him burst out laughing, finding it hard to stop themselves from laughing out loud.
And his journey ended for him with the last big step with which he showed everyone that he would never look back and left all his trauma, fear and pain behind with his old self, which would never be able to catch up with him again.
"CHARLES LECLERC!!!!!!! YOU ARE WORLD CHAMPION!!!!!!!!!!!"
sleepysarcasgirl on Chapter 1 Thu 04 Jan 2024 03:25PM UTC
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owinter on Chapter 1 Thu 04 Jan 2024 08:27PM UTC
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zsentpng on Chapter 1 Fri 05 Jan 2024 07:59PM UTC
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