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Monza has always been one of Max’s favorite tracks and, despite the thousands of angry Tifosi praying for his downfall, he has always done well in the italian race.
This time though, he doesn’t feel as confident as he usually does here. No one knows better than him what a joke the Redbull car this year is.
Max can barely focus on the anthem, mentally already in the car, trying to come up with anything that could help him drag his useless blue tractor across the finish line without embarrassing himself. Again.
He sighs, at least this time he is starting on P2, not that it was thanks to his car.
Max glances to his left. Charles Leclerc doesn’t seem to have a care in the world, devotedly singing the Italian anthem, looking stupidly handsome as always and glowing as if he already won the race.
During his last Twitter doomscrolling (he will never call it stupid X) Max’s seen some wild fan theory that Charles is actually a vampire because he clearly is too perfect to be a mere human.
When he saw the post he just snorted (did people really forget about the stupid Justin Bieber hair already?) but here under the bright Italian sun he almost expects Charles to sparkle.
He will never forgive Vicky for tricking 12-year old Max to go to the cinema with her by telling him Twilight was an action movie about vampires killing people.
He can’t even remember if that Edward guy even drank any blood at all.
Still thinking about the burden of having a sister he looks further down the line of drivers where his eyes land on Lewis. Like so often in the last months Lewis looks miserable. It would be funny how fast Ferrari managed to destroy the confidence of a 7-time world champion if Max wouldn’t feel so bad for the guy.
If there are vampires at Ferrari they definitely feed on happiness.
When it’s lights out Max feels calm.
That calm doesn’t last long because with only three laps in, the race already becomes a shitshow. Lewis, who couldn’t have any more bad luck with Ferrari, has to retire the car due to an engine failure.
Ten laps later, Kimi and Lando come together and are both out.
Poor Kimi, out of his first home race already. Max makes a mental note to check up on the rookie later on.
Right now he has himself to worry about.
By some miracle he is still second. Right behind Charles and barely in front of Oscar and George.
He is fine with being second, he is out of the championship fight anyway, but if George Russle manages to take away his podium in that one race where his car is actually working he might retire at the spot.
By lap 35 Oscar is long gone after a pathetically slow pit stop by McLaren.
Six laps later Max finally gets some distance between himself and George who, after getting more and more desperate to overtake Max, runs wide.
Hah, serves that british twat right.
Now, it feels like it is only Charles and him in the race and Charles defends his first position like his life depends on it.
It takes Max back to their carting days when they would go head to head in every race.
On the last lap he finally gets his chance. It’s risky and might end up badly for him, but he goes for it anyway. It’s not like he has much to lose.
And he does it: A beautiful overtake right on the last lap, on the outside of the corner, taking Charles completely by surprise.
Max crosses the line first.
Monza has always been one of Max's favorite tracks and, despite the thousands of angry Tifosi praying for his downfall, he has always done well in the italian race.
This time though, he doesn’t feel as confident as he usually does here. No one knows better than him what a joke the Redbull car this year is.
Max can barely focus on the anthem, mentally already in the car, trying to come up with anything that could help him drag his blue tractor across the finish line without embarrassing himself. Again.
He signs, at least this time he is starting second, not that it was thanks to his car.
Max glances to his left. He fully expected Charles to at least pretend to pay attention to the Italian anthem like the Ferrari Poster boy that he is but instead Charles is looking around wide eyed and even a little confused. Is he shaking a bit too?
Damn, things must be really tough over at Ferrari.
Compared to Charles even Lewis looks full of life and that is saying something.
When it’s lights out Max feels calm.
That calm doesn’t last long because with only three laps in, the race already becomes a shitshow.
Lewis has to retire the car.
Kimi and Lando are both out of the race.
Poor Kimi, out of his home race already. Max makes a mental note to check up on the rookie later on.
When he finally shakes off Oscar and George it feels like it is only Charles and him in the race and Charles defends his first position like his life depends on it.
It takes Max back to their carting days when they would go head to head in every race.
On the last lap he finally gets his chance. It’s risky and might end up badly but - just as he plans to act, the red Ferrari moves out of his line, right where Max planned to go, completely blocking any chance of an overtake.
For a moment Max is completely bewildered. Has he become that predictable? Charles is probably the driver on the grid that knows Max’s driving the best but not even Max was a 100% sure to go for it.
Must’ve been a lucky hunch. A hunch that ends up deciding the race.
Charles crosses the line first.
Monza has always been one of Max’s favorite tracks and, despite the thousands of angry Tifosi praying for his downfall, he has always done well in the italian race.
This time though, he doesn’t feel as confident as he usually does here. No one knows better than him what a joke the Redbull car this year is.
For some reason the anthem isn’t playing.
Confused Max looks around, only to find the spot right next to him deserted.
Just as he is wondering where the hell Charles could be he hears him.
“Non!”
“Charles please-”
“You don’t understand I won’t do it. I have already driven this race ten times. I won’t do it again!”
Sure enough, there is Charles Leclerc, Ferrari’s golden boy looking more angry than Max has ever seen him arguing loudly with a flock of very panicky looking Ferrari employees surrounding him.
Huh, that’s new. Max has seen enough ridiculous PR pictures of Charles to know that he would never say no to anything his team asks of him. For him to be refusing to drive something must be really, really wrong.
Maybe Charles isn't feeling well?
“You won here before I am sure you can do it again!” someone cries in a squeaky voice.
The whole thing is a mess. The Ferrari team members are clearly unsure how to handle the situation. Some are looking close to tears while others are already looking ready to go down on their knees and beg and now even the team principal is getting involved.
“I know I will win, I win every damn time that is not the problem!”
Max can’t help but bristle at that. The little bit of pity that he felt for Charles immediately evaporates. Who does Charles Leclerc think he is? Sure, he has the superior car but that doesn’t mean that Max will hand him the win that easily.
Max does in fact end up handing Charles the win easily.
After Ferrari finally got Charles into the line next to Max after using emotional blackmail “But Charles, think of all the poor fans traveling here just to see you!” The anthem finally starts to play.
When it’s lights out Max feels more determined than he has in a long time.
The race is an absolute shitshow. Three cars are out already. Max barely paid attention which ones, just like he doesn’t pay any attention to the cars right behind him.
All he can see is the red car in front of him.
Infuriatingly, Charles is seemingly having the race of his life.
Max doesn’t even come close enough to try to overtake him.
Charles, with an unbelievable new track record crosses the line first.
Monza has always been one of Max’s favorite tracks and, despite the thousands of angry Tifosi praying for his downfall, he has always done well in the italian race.
This time though, he doesn’t feel as confident as he usually does here. No one knows better than him what a joke the Redbull car this year is.
Already in line waiting for the Italian anthem, Max is distracted.
Only a few meters away from him is Charles laughing and talking to Max’s rookie. When Max tries to overhear what they are talking about he catches snippets of Charles giving Kimi advice on turn 11.
Max scoffs. It’s Kimi’s home race. He has been to Monza every year since he was born, as if he doesn't know the track's layout in his sleep.
Kimi really is too nice for the world, listening attentively and nodding to every word Charles is saying.
Max should invite Kimi to dinner once they finish the italian races. He does know some great restaurants in Baku. Maybe he can take the other rookies there as well. That would be nice.
When it’s lights out Max feels calm.
Lewis, who couldn’t have any more bad luck with Ferrari, has to retire the car due to an engine failure.
The big surprise, though, is Kimi.
The rookie is doing incredibly well, sitting currently in first place with 20 laps to go.
Charles is second, George third and Max is fourth.
That is when things start to get weird.
Kimi’s driving is good but it’s not flawless. More than once he left a big gap that Charles just doesn’t seem to want to take. Instead it almost looks like he is defending Kimi. Surely, that can’t be it can it?
Maybe there is something wrong with his car? But then he easily manages to keep George behind him, ruining every chance of an overtake the poor guy has.
It is clear who the best driver in the race is and that is certainly not Kimi.
What is going on? Not even the Ferrari strategists would fuck up a clear win like that would they?
The weirdness reaches its peak when George finally does manage to overtake Charles.
George stays behind his Mercedes teammate for a few laps until Kimi makes another small mistake and gifts George the perfect opportunity.
George should take the win easily now, but the second he tries to go for an overtake, Charles violently smashes into him, taking them both off the track and out of the race.
For the first time in his life Max is actually looking forward to hearing what the stewards have to say to whatever the hell that was.
With Max lacking the pace to do anything it's Kimi that crosses the line first.
Monza has always been one of Max’s favorite tracks and, despite the thousands of angry Tifosi praying for his downfall, he has always done well in the italian race.
This time though, he doesn’t feel as confident as he usually does here. No one knows better than him what a joke the Redbull car this year is.
Max can barely focus on the anthem, mentally already in the car, trying to come up with anything that could help him drag his useless blue tractor across the finish line without embarrassing himself. Again.
He sighs, at least this time he is starting in P2, not that it was thanks to his car.
Max glances to his left. Charles Leclerc is already looking at him with a weirdly intense look on his face.
It’s honestly a bit flattering, with McLaren and Mercedes so strong this year Max misses being the number one driver to beat. At least Charles seems to take him seriously.
When it’s lights out Max feels almost giddy with excitement.
That excitement doesn’t last long because with only three laps in, the race already becomes a shitshow. Lewis, who couldn’t have any more bad luck with Ferrari, has to retire the car due to an engine failure.
Ten laps later, Kimi and Lando come together and are both out.
Poor Kimi, out of his home race already. Max makes a mental note to check up on the rookie later on.
Right now he has himself to worry about.
By some miracle he is still second. Right behind Charles and barely in front of Oscar and George.
He is fine with being second, he is out of the championship fight anyway, but if George Russle manages to take away his podium in that one race where his car is actually working he might retire at the spot.
By lap 35 Oscar is long gone after a pathetically slow pit stop by McLaren.
Six laps later Max finally gets some distance between himself and George who, after getting more and more desperate to overtake Max, runs wide.
Hah, serves that british twat right.
Now, it feels like it is only Charles and him in the race and Charles defends his first position like his life depends on it.
It takes Max back to their carting days when they would go head to head in every race.
On the last lap he finally gets his chance. It’s risky and might end up badly for him, but he goes for it anyway. It’s not like he has much to lose.
And he does it: A beautiful overtake right on the last lap, on the outside of the corner, taking Charles completely by surprise.
He can already see the finish line right in front of him.
It is the last thing he is thinking about, when suddenly a Ferrari slams into him.
None of them are crossing the finish line today.
Monza has always been one of Max’s favorite tracks and, despite the thousands of angry Tifosi praying for his downfall, he has always done well in the italian race.
This time though, he doesn’t feel as confident as he usually does here. No one knows better than him what a joke the Redbull car this year is.
“Hi Max” a voice interrupts his more and more depressive thoughts.
Max startles a bit and turns to his right “Charles, hey.”
Thinking that this is it Max is almost turning away from Charles, but apparently Charles isn’t done with him yet.
“Today is nice isn't it? Do you have any plans for the day?”
To say that Max is confused would be an understatement. See, the thing is, Charles and him don’t really talk besides talking about the cars of course.
He does have plans, but he doubts that his old rival / coworker wants to hear about his video call date with his beloved cats.
Oh, the glamorous life of an F1 driver.
“Uhm, not really.” Max finally answers, feeling a bit awkward.
For some reason his answer seems to really upset Charles.
“You always say that! Why are you so hard to talk to.”
Strangely enough Charles seems to be close to tears and Max feels like he is missing something.
Before Max can apologize for god knows what, because truth be told he doesn’t even remember the last time that he had an actual conversation with the man in front of him, Charles continues, getting louder and louder until he is almost shouting.
“I talked to all the others and they all tell me stuff! You're the only one that never gives me any answers. Why do you hate me so much??”
By this point they are attracting a lot of attention and Max can already see tomorrow's headlines 'Verstappen bullies F1’s favorite darling’ or something equally ridiculous. The British press is going to love this.
Leclerc is clearly having some issues and he wants no part of that.
“What is the matter with you guys? You are holding everything up.”, George whispers in an exasperated tone from his other side.
“Nothing. Everything is fine.”, Charles answers in a tone that indicates that nothing is fine.
“George, why don’t you go ask Alex to go to the cute cafe you found this morning. He is always so happy when you bring him there.”
There is a long pause after he says that before George answers with a very unsure “Right…” and slowly backs away from them.
Lucky fucker, at least he has Max as a buffer between him and the crazy person.
Finally, the italian anthem starts playing and it’s time to race.
The race is an absolute shitshow and the reason for that is no other than Charles Leclerc.
For some reason he seems to be trying to set a new record for the most penalties during a single race.
He already cleared Ocon’s 2023 Austrian disaster by a mile. With the irresponsible and reckless way he is driving it’s a miracle he hasn’t seriously hurt himself or anyone else yet.
It probably will be a miracle if he is still allowed in F1 at all after the race.
Max is convinced that the only reason why Charles is still not disqualified is that the officials have as much a clue as to what’s going on as he does.
When they finally do decide to disqualify Charles, after he almost run over the Ferrari pit crew without actually wanting a pitstop, Max feels relieved for all of them.
Too bad that it took them so long because at this point the race is already pretty much fucked, with everyone keeping a cautious distance to the number 16 car.
Max is currently sitting in tenth place with a slight damage to his wing, thanks to a certain Ferrari driver and almost no chance to do anything about it.
It’s George that crosses the line first, with probably the worst time a race winner ever had in Monza.
Monza has always been one of Max’s favorite tracks and, despite the thousands of angry Tifosi praying for his downfall, he has always done well in the italian race.
This time though, he doesn’t feel as confident as he usually does here. No one knows better than him what a joke the Redbull car this year is.
“Hi Max” a voice interrupts his more and more depressive thoughts.
Max startles a bit and turns to his right “Charles, hey.”
Thinking that this is it Max is almost turning away from Charles, but apparently Charles isn’t done with him yet.
“Look, I wanted to apologize. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I was just so frustrated with all the well, you know.” , Charles makes a dismissive hand gesture and Max has no clue what he is talking about.
Charles has never yelled at him. To be honest, it’s hard to imagine the sweet tempered Ferrari driver yelling at anyone. …Other than at Ferrari of course.
“Anyway, I shouldn't have and I hope you can forgive me.” Charles is still looking at him with that painfully sincere look on his face, clearly expecting some sort of reaction from Max.
"Uhm… sure.” Max sounds everything besides sure.
It seems to be good enough for Charles who is beaming at him.
“Thanks Max! I always feel so bad when we fight. I swear I couldn’t even look at you for days when I broke your arm!”
“Wait, what? Charles, what the fuck are you talking -”
The anthem starts and interrupts Max. It’s probably for the best, because not only has Charles never yelled at him they also certainly never injured each other.
Did Charles hit his head or something? Is he even able to drive like this?
He tries to make eye contact with Charles but Charles is starring ahead, smiling and devotingly singing the italian anthem.
In the car Max is trying to get a hang of himself. Charles will be fine, after all they all have to pass several tests deeming them good to drive.
Seconds later it’s lights out and the race is starting.
At first it seems like it’s going to be a normal race but then suddenly, on lap two, Charles, who has been well ahead of Max, comfortably leading the race, pulls into the pit lane.
“GP, what is going on”
“Don’t worry about it Max. Just focus.”
As if.
GP’s usually calm voice sounds a bit too excited right now.
“Just tell me! Is he ok?”
GP lets out a snort. “You could say that. Leclerc has just given his helmet to a pit crew member and told the guy to finish the race for him.”
“Are you fucking kidding me???”
He doesn't know whether to be relieved or exasperated.
Well, Max knows whose drug test will be very carefully examined today.
Lewis, who couldn’t have any more bad luck with Ferrari, has to retire the car due to an engine failure.
Ten laps later, Kimi and Lando come together and are both out.
Poor Kimi, out of his home race already. Max makes a mental note to check up on the rookie later on.
Maybe he should check on Charles as well.
Right now he has himself to worry about.
By some miracle Max is leading the race, barely in front of Oscar and George.
By lap 35 Oscar is long gone after a pathetically slow pit stop.
George tries to overtake him several times but Max manages to hold onto his lead.
With only a few milliseconds between them Max crosses the line first.
Monza has always been one of Max’s favorite tracks and, despite the thousands of angry Tifosi praying for his downfall, he has always done well in the italian race.
This time though, he doesn’t feel as confident as he usually does here. No one knows better than him what a joke the Redbull car this year is.
“I’ve been thinking.” A voice interrupts his more and more depressive thoughts.
Max startles a bit and turns to his right.
“Maybe it never was about the result of the race. Maybe something bigger has to happen. Something reality shattering if you know what I mean.”
Max does very much not know what Charles means.
Suddenly Charles is gripping Max's wrist with a very determined look on his face.
“We should drive for Mercedes together!”
Out of all the things Max expected Charles to say this was not it.
“Everyone knows Toto is obsessed with you and I am sure he will give me a seat too, now that Lewis is gone. Just think about it, us as teammates!” he continues excitedly.
Even without thinking about it Max knows that everything about this plan sounds horrible and he would say so if it wasn’t for the slightly insane smile on Charles face.
Instead he decides to take the cowardly way out of it.
“Uhm.. I think Kimi just called me.”
Very proud of his supreme problemsolving skills Max tries to go get the fuck away from Charles, but there is one problem: Charles is still very thightly holding on to him.
“Charles, let go of me this is ridiculous", Max says as he is trying to free himself.
“No! First you have to come to Mercedes with me!”
“Are you crazy? Let go of me!”
“ You don’t understand! Maybe that is what the universe wants from us!”
“What the fuck are you even talking about?”
Great, not only is Charles grip surprisingly strong, their little yelling session also attracted all kinds of unwanted attention and now he has a camera shoved into his face.
Finally Max manages to get Charles off of him and immediately power walks as fast as he can away from this mess.
“Come drive for Mercedes with me!” Charles yells after him.
Max just walks faster trying to ignore Charles. He also tries to ignore the shocked gasps of thousands of heartbroken Tifosi and a very British sounding “EXCUSE ME???”.
After all it’s not his fault that Charles finally decided to snap right next to him.
At least someone of the organizers has enough sense to keep them separate during the anthem.
When it’s lights out Max still feels a bit embarrassed about whatever that was. Hopefully driving will give him something else to focus on.
Lewis, who couldn’t have any more bad luck with Ferrari, has to retire the car due to an engine failure on lap three.
Max's own race ends on lap five when a very angry George Russle fully turns into him.
Max does neither know nor care about who crosses the finish line first.
Monza has always been one of Max’s favorite tracks and, despite the thousands of angry Tifosi praying for his downfall, he has always done well in the italian race.
This time though, he doesn’t feel as confident as he usually does here. No one knows better than him what a joke the Redbull car this year is.
“It’s been a while since we talked.” A voice interrupts his more and more depressive thoughts.
Max startles a bit and turns confused to his right to a very nervous looking Charles Leclerc.
“I tried a lot of different things. I even tried to get Ollie to win the race. In a Haas! You can’t even imagine how long it took me to make that happen. Every time I came close for some reason Lando kept winning. That idiot really thought I came to congratulate him after the race. He never expects me to punch him...” Charles lets out a humorless laugh.
Is Charles talking about Sim Racing? He has to, right?
“... Anyway, now I decided to go back to the whole reality shattering events.”
Max is starting to think that Charles is not talking about Sim racing.
“I am going to be so pissed if that is what it takes to break the curse.” Charles whispers softly as he steps closer to Max.
Suddenly there are two hands grabbing Max's face and before he can even think about what it means a pair of incredibly soft lips is on his own.
Oh.
Max barely registers the shocked gasps around him.
The race is utterly unforgettable for Max.
He is vaguely aware that a few cars are out already, but he couldn't for the life of him say who is behind or in front of him.
When he crosses the finish line fifth racing is the last thing on his mind.
Monza has always been one of Max’s favorite tracks and, despite the thousands of angry Tifosi praying for his downfall, he has always done well in the italian race.
Too bad that it seems like he won't make it to this year's race as he is currently behind the Williams motorhome where a very determined Charles Leclerc dragged him.
“Charles what the fuck-”
“Shhh, I am sorry ok? I just need to talk to you.”
Now that certainly does get Max attention. See, the thing is, Charles and him don’t really talk besides talking about the cars of course.
“I wanted to tell you that I am done dragging you into my mess.”
Huh, that is kind of a weird thing to say from someone who just dragged you into a dark alley but ok.
Also for some reason Charles is blushing violently.
“From now on I will just deal with all the shit on my own.” Charles somehow sounds determined and dejected at the same time.
Max feels the intense need to comfort him even though he is still feeling like he is missing something. Talking about racing is probably the safest option he has, since that and awkward small talk is all that they are usually doing.
“Charles, I know things aren’t going well at Ferrari right now…”
Are things at Ferrari ever going well, Max wonders. The poor guy must be living in hell for the past seven years.
“... but you are doing so well and I am sure you have many people to help you when you are struggling… or maybe seeing a therapist or two would be good... I go to therapy too… well, sometimes… and Lewis is having a hard time too! So it can’t be your fault that the car isn’t working!”
Great, now Max is rambling.
Charles startles “What did you just say?”
“Uhm… maybe a therapist would help?”
“No, no the part about Lewis…. because that is clearly what is wrong about this season isn’t it?”
In Max's opinion there are many things wrong about this season and most of them have to do with Red Bull.
“Lewis Hamilton, 7 time world champion, the undisputed goat of Formula 1 is being let down by Ferrari, the historically best team in the sport!” Charles says almost bouncing from excitement.
“Actually I think Schuhmacher is the -” before Max can even finish his sentence he is engulfed in a tight hug, resulting in him completely losing his train of thought.
“Thanks, Max.” Charles says softly.
The hug only lasts a few seconds and then Charles lets go and runs off.
Max can only shake his head. If that is what driving for Ferrari does to you, Max is glad he never had the opportunity to find out.
Oh shit, the anthem.
Surprisingly, he is not the last to make it there. Both Charles and Lewis are missing.
When they finally do show up together, Charles is still talking animatedly to a very bewildered looking Lewis.
Finally the italian anthem starts and soon they are all in the cars…
… only for the race to be delayed.
“GP, what is going on?”
“It seems like Leclerc and Hamilton swapped cars.”
“Is that even allowed?” Max asks confused.
"No clue mate. Technically it’s the same car with only a different number and there is no rule against it… yet.”
Well, it certainly will be a confusing mess for both the commentators and fans, but for Max’s race it doesn’t really matter who is which car.
When it’s lights out Max feels calm.
That calm doesn’t last long because with only three laps in, the race already becomes a shitshow. Charles has to retire the red 44 car due to an engine failure.
Ten laps later, Kimi and Lando come together and are both out.
Poor Kimi, out of his home race already. Max makes a mental note to check up on the rookie later on.
Right now he has himself to worry about.
By some miracle he is still second. Right behind Lewis and barely in front of Oscar and George.
He is fine with being second, he is out of the championship fight anyway, but if George Russle manages to take away his podium in that one race where his car is actually working he might retire at the spot.
By lap 35 Oscar is long gone after a pathetically slow pit stop by McLaren.
Six laps later Max finally gets some distance between himself and George who, after getting more and more desperate to overtake Max, runs wide.
Hah, serves that british twat right.
Now, it feels like it is only Lewis and him in the race and Lewis defends his first position like his life depends on it.
On the last lap Max finally gets his chance. It’s risky and might end up badly for him, but if he goes for it anyway he might be able to do it.
Weirdly enough for him, he hesitates a second too long. His chance is gone and he won’t get another one.
Stupid Leclerc and his crazy talk really seemed to have affected Max’s brain.
Oh well, he will gladly take second place. At this point he is just happy to be on the podium again and besides, after all this shit who deserves the win more than Lewis?
Lewis crosses the line first.
Max wakes up to the very persistent ringing of his phone.
Still half asleep he grabs it, accepts the call and grogily answers with a muffled “...hello?”
“Max, hi! I just had to call you! It worked! I never thought I would ever be so glad that it’s monday and it is all thanks to you!”
Charles' voice sounds way too excited for it being… Max squints at the bright phone screen … 3 o’clock.
“Of course it had to be Lewis! It all makes sense if you think about it. I can’t believe I thought kissing you would be the solution!”
Suddenly Max is wide awake. “What?”
“Oh, you know…” Charles lets out an embarrassed little laugh, “Anyway I gotta go now, there are so many things I want to do today, now that I don't have to drive that stupid race again. Talk to you later!” and then he ends the call, while Max is still trying to figure out what just happened.
When he eventually falls asleep again and dreams of green eyes and soft lips that is no one's business but his.