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Chapter Text

Monte Carlo, Monaco

Breakfast was a quiet affair these days. A stark contrast to how he had grown up, chattering away with his brothers as his parents smiled fondly at them.

It was something Charles half heartedly had to accept. His mother was still recovering from heartbreak and Lorenzo, now Lord Leclerc, too busy to appear for breakfast. Usually he at least had Arthur’s company, but even his younger brother was missing this morning. 

Charles was left on his own and it was times like these he missed his papa dearly. 

The sun had settled high in the sky today, a gentle breeze blowing the curtains into the air from the window he had pushed open, yearning for some fresh air. His breakfast was not as appealing without Arthur attempting to steal bits of it because he could not sit still long enough to make his own plate. 

He missed his family. 

“Maman’s marrying you off!” 

Perhaps he did not miss them on second thought.

Charles nearly choked on his tea as Arthur finally made his appearance, waving a letter in the air as he hurried over to his side. 

Pascale right behind him, shaking her head, “Arthur,” She scolded, taking the letter back from his hands, but she was smiling.

His mother was smiling and it looked more genuine than it had in months.

But the smile was linked with something he didn’t have his heart set on. 

“I’m the favorite, Arthur. I would be the last one maman would marry off, “ He replied, trying to sound smug, but there was a swirl of dread circling in his chest the longer his mother remained quiet. 

Arthur also seemed much too confident in his words, swiping a pastry off his plate.

“Right, maman?” Charles urged softly. Surely she didn’t plan on marrying him so soon after everything. After everything.

Pascale finally looked up from the letter in her hands. “Oh, mon coeur . I must tell you it was not me who thought of it at first. Lorenzo spoke of it and your brother was not wrong. You are getting older and most your age are courting, wed or in the season’s play already. You are more than two years late already and we can not delay it anymore.”

Charles swallowed. He had been excused the previous years because of their father’s illness and death. His family had in no way been prepared for the season and the grief had been too much. Lorenzo was also much too preoccupied to prepare anything that past year with his sudden new title. 

Gentle hands came to cup his face. There was nothing but love in his mothers eyes as she looked down at him. “You will be perfect for the season, mon coeur , do not fret for a minute. You have my beauty and your father’s charm after all, it will not be difficult for you to find a match, not at all.”

He managed a small nod, the room suddenly much too stuffy despite Arthur no longer present in the conversation. 

Pascale simply smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Lorenzo will be returning home tomorrow and together we will all travel to London. I will not have you feel alone for a minute.”

Charles could not help but wonder where this concern had been for the past few months when he had been eating breakfast alone. But that was much too harsh to accuse his mother of. She had been mending a broken heart and if his marriage would bring her happiness back, well, he would try for her.

Though he wished he had never woken up this morning, perhaps slept in and let them continue to plan the rest of his life without him.

All Charles could do was nod along, trying his best to not look miserable as his mother began the preparations for London and tried to ignore the look on Arthur’s face. He practically was silently screaming, I told you so. 

For the past year since his father’s passing they had all been residing in Monaco. It had been the best option for them all, especially their mother, who could not bear to leave the place so soon after her husband’s passing. Monaco had been his father’s birthplace and every summer, from what Charles could remember, was in the estate there. It held all his favorite memories, their London home more connected with schooling and duties. Monaco, however, was a dream to stay in.

Since they were young, all three of them had been marked as the little princes of Monaco, his father’s family being the richest in the small country. There wasn’t a horrible memory connected to it and it had always brought his father peace. That was why, when his illness had grown worse, they had moved back to be in a comforting place. 

Sometimes Charles regretted thinking the idea had been brilliant, because now the comfort had almost disappeared. Instead it felt cold, knowing his father had passed here.

Even then, however, the sudden move back to England did not sit well with him. It felt wrong to leave this place behind even though it would be cared for just like before. 

Charles watched with disdain, his eyes glued to the window in the carriage as it slowly disappeared from view until it was nothing but a dark haze in the distance. 

He could not help the frown that spread across his face and it only worsened as he heard his mother’s attempt to hide her cry. Arthur was beside her, clutching her hand when he looked over, an attempt to comfort their mother who was leaving where her last moments with her husband had been. Lorenzo sat beside him, his eyes unreadable. 

Lorenzo had changed much during the past year. Charles saw less and less of him every month until he had been gone for a total of three months until he had sent that letter to them about finding Charles a suitor. When Lorenzo had come home he could not look him in the eye and even now he sat stiffly next to Charles.

Good, he thought . He was glad his brother knew he had betrayed their trust. His own brother had not even asked him if he wanted to marry. The same brother who would always ask his opinion before anything. Who promised Charles he would never force his hand, yet this felt forced, and soon it would be Arthur and then their mother would be all alone. 

Charles despised the thought and Lorenzo knew that.

He also knew Charles could not fight against their mother, not when the prospect of his wedding made her so joyful and Arthur still had two years until his season. She would not be alone, and by then Lorenzo’s children would entertain her and she would not be completely alone.

The bitter taste in his mouth, however, did not leave.

-

London, England

Charles could not deny that he had also missed their home in London. He had even more time here and after a year it was nice to finally come back to his bedroom and have a home where his father’s presence didn’t seem to follow him like a looming shadow. 

However, it did not hurt any less passing by his father’s study. He knew Lorenzo had moved his belongings months ago but it still twisted something in him knowing he could no longer push open the door and idly chat with his father. He could no longer hide from Arthur in there and stifle a laugh as his father did not reveal his presence or vice versa. Lorenzo would never understand their games.

Lorenzo never understood them. He loved his brother dearly, but he never understood.

“Did you not think to ask me before you planned all this?” Charles could not resist asking as he stepped into the study Lorenzo had disappeared into in mere seconds of being home. Not a single word to any of them but their mother.

Lorenzo merely glanced at him before back at the papers in front of him. “Not now, Charles.”

That was not at all what he wanted to hear, not when he was to be married off. 

“So, have you decided who you will be giving me away to? Are they a friend of yours? Or Papa’s perhaps? Did they promise you good money in return for me?” He could not help the crude comments firing off his tongue. This was the only man he could say them to. 

“Charles.” Lorenzo repeated through gritted teeth. A warning sound.

Charles scoffed, “You promised, Lorenzo.”

He had broken the promise just as easily as they had made it all those years ago.

“And promises can be broken, Charles!” 

Charles flinched as Lorenzo’s hands slapped down against the desk. He knew it had been coming but the anger still surprised him. Their father was never like this.

“You are not a child. We made that promise when we were young and it had been a ridiculous promise. Every person has gone through this. I have done it and I have a wonderful wife and a child. It will not be the end of the world. In fact it could be the start, little brother. So do not talk about broken promises from our childhood. We are grown men now.”

Why did he lose his choice when he was grown? Why had Lorenzo bothered to promise him that?

“You must be a good example for Arthur. He will go through the same and if he sees you fight he will fight harder knowing you lost, and it will only be a nuisance.

Knowing he lost.

He did not even have a chance to live the life he wanted. Lorenzo truly had everything set in stone.

Charles' anger did not lessen any further but he had nothing more to say. His brother simply did not care. “Well, I am sorry your brothers are nothing but a nuisance for you now. I’m sure papa would be proud of you for selling us off.” The words left his tongue heavy, watching as Lorenzo’s eyes filled with pain.

He was proud of the words, no matter how cruel.

Their papa would have stopped this.

Lorenzo however was not their papa. His eyes, however pain filled, were just as firm with his gaze. 

“Charles, we know how it went the last time we allowed you to live as you pleased. We cannot have that again.”  

Charles did not wait a second longer to be lectured, gritting his teeth he turned away, walking out of the door and away from Lorenzo. 

How dare he play that card?! 

As he pushed his bedroom doors open, to his surprise Arthur was sitting on his bed, fiddling with the bedding. 

“Arthur?” He questioned softly, trying to keep the anger from boiling over. 

“We could make you as unappealing as possible so that Lorenzo’s choices absolutely despise you, brother,” Arthur brilliantly spoke out and Charles couldn’t help the laugh that left his mouth. He was only seventeen years old but more understanding than anyone.

Oh how he loved his youngest brother.

-

Charles had never thought their father’s death would leave them all adrift like this. He should have known they lived much too comfortably, their father even suggesting Lorenzo did not need to marry according to the season if he did not want to. His father had grown up in Monaco after all and it was a small country with little care for these sorts of things. But he had moved to London to be with their mother and to ensure her to have her family and friends around her when she needed them. Monaco was often lonely for those who were not born there.

It was no surprise his father did not care much for all these London expectations, but their mother had always cared, and for some odd reason Lorenzo did as well. Perhaps it was because, being the oldest out of them, he had been shielded the least. Lorenzo had gone through everything in their life to make sure he and Arthur did not struggle the same in society.  

The marriage struggle had been something their family had clashed on but Lorenzo had always insisted on doing the season and providing the heir to further their family name. It’s why the idiotic promise had been made in the first place. Lorenzo had not wanted them to struggle. For some reason none of that mattered now that their father was dead. 

Charles wondered if their father had known of this. Whether Lorenzo had voiced his worries and opinions. 

Some part of him knew his papa would have never let this happen.

“Stop, frowning. You must look kind, mon coeur ,” Pascale murmured softly as she fixed his coat, looking him over once more before they stepped inside for their first ball. 

Kindness had been the last thing in his mind as he looked down at his mother. She looked awful in the dark dull colors she had been swarmed in. He missed seeing her sparkly jewelry and her bright gowns. At times, she almost did not resemble the mother who had raised him.

“Must I?” He mumbled out, his throat already itching from how tightly the fabric pressed into his skin. Arthur stood on his left, attempting to peek into the home. 

The first ball of the season was being held at the Russell estate. A family that came from old money in England. Charles recalled them vaguely from when they were younger. They had a young son around his age named George, if his memory served him correctly.

“You must,” Pascale repeated, finally pulling her hands away, only to begin fixing Arthur’s shirt, who had managed to pull a button completely off the collar.

She tisked, shaking her head, “Goodness, what is a mother to do with children like you.”

Take them back home, he thought to himself, but on his other side stood Lorenzo, expression stone cold as he looked ahead while they neared the front doors. It was not until they were a family behind, Lorenzo shifted closer, “Smile, Charles. Everyone always loves your smile.”

Charles wished he could have screamed right then and there. But instead he forced his lips to curl into a smile as they greeted Lord and Lady Russell. Their mother pulled away immediately and Arthur took not even a second to disappear.

That left him alone with Lorenzo, who immediately grabbed a hold of his wrist, “Come, I will introduce you to the Hamiltons.” 

The Hamiltons, it turned out, were also one of the richest families. The top of the top in London and highly respected, even more than the Russells. They had a son, Lewis, the oldest of four, and Charles knew right away it was who he was expected to enthrall. Fantastic . 

Arthur’s plan to make himself unappealing had been smart but it was difficult when Lorenzo and their mother was watching his every movement. There was no time to lie to Lewis about his hobbies or how he knew no instruments and had no passion for running a household for some man. The worst of it all was, Lewis was kind. He entertained Charles’ every word and did not even force his hand for a dance when he had eyed the dance floor wearily.

Instead, he kissed his hand and asked to be excused, considering he would need to dance with someone. So Charles was left there charmed out of his mind as Lewis asked someone else’s hand for a dance. Someone who could love him back, perhaps.

Dancing was a flaw of his without needing to lie about it.

He had always preferred playing piano with his mother whilst Lorenzo and Arthur practiced the waltz or whatever other ridiculous dances they needed to learn. 

“Well…?” Lorenzo pushed as Charles returned to his side.

He could not help but roll his eyes, eyes scanning the dance floor, “He is kind.” 

“That is all? Why did you not dance with him?”

“I do not dance, brother. You know of this.”

Lorenzo let out something that sounded much like a scoff and Charles dearly wished he wore heels so he could have stabbed it into his brother’s foot. 

“We will have you dancing soon, do not worry.” His brother's eyes continued to scan the room until, “Ah-!” Lorenzo hooked his arm with his and dragged him toward a man that could have been the age of their father. “Lord Alonso !” 

Charles wanted to crawl under the dessert table. 

Somehow the conversation led onto the dance floor and he ended up clumsily dancing along to Fernando’s expert movements. He felt like a doll being dragged along uselessly.

“Lord Leclerc tells me you are fond of piano playing, rather than dancing,” Fernando spoke and Charles had to hold back from cussing his brother out. 

Of course, Enzo would turn his passion against him.

Managing his kindest smile, Charles nodded. “Yes. I have enjoyed playing with my mother since I was young. I prefer playing music rather than moving along with it.”

Fernando simply continued smiling, “How lovely. We would compliment each other nicely.”

Charles managed to keep his smile wide, “We very much would...”

Escaping Fernando proved to be slightly more difficult, the older man seemed keen to keep his hands on him, but Charles could not fathom staying. So, at the slightest glimpse of Arthur out of the corner of his eye, he escaped. 

“My brother calls for me, terribly sorry,” He mumbled before slipping out of his touch and darting for the doorway. Hopefully Lorenzo had been preoccupied or too slow to run after him. 

He practically tripped his way to Arthur. “He looked as old as papa!” His little brother mumbled out, frowning as he glanced behind Charles. 

“It was horrid,” Charles agreed. His cheeks ached from keeping up with his pleasant mask. 

“Was there at least anyone who caught your attention, brother?”

Charles' eyebrows rose as he looked at Arthur who was looking into the room as if searching for someone. “No. Why? Did someone catch yours?” He could not help but ask, seeing the odd state of his younger brother.

Arthur’s cheeks flushed darkly. “This is your season, not mine! Everyone’s too old here.”

He did not push any further, he knew Arthur would have to tell him eventually. He was no good at keeping things hidden for long. Humming softly, his eyes wandered back over to the dance floor. 

It was not that he was entirely against the prospect of marriage, he would just prefer it to be love or his own decision rather than simply because Lorenzo wanted him to marry. 

It was why he was keeping his eye out for someone of his personal taste.

Which did not take long at all. 

It was a man who also stood off to the side of the commotion in the middle of the room. He looked tall from what Charles could tell, nice square shoulders and one large hand wrapped around a drink. His dress sense also seemed impeccable, from the dark navy tailcoat and the matching cravat circling his neck. His face was the best treat of all. Strong jawline, complemented by plush lips, a perfectly carved nose and, from what Charles could tell, his eyes were a beautiful ocean blue. They matched the water at Monaco’s edge.

He was beautiful.

Charles had to speak to him.

“Arthur…” he murmured, eyes never leaving his new discovery as he tugged at his brother's hand. 

“Yes, brother?” Came Arthur’s reply and Charles grabbed a hold of his chin and tugged him until he was looking in the same direction, “if Lord Leclerc asks for me, tell him I am occupied.”

A small noise of surprise left Arthur as Charles let go of him and pushed forward, heading right towards his mystery man. The small flood of confidence wavered slightly as he grew closer, but the evening would be useless if he did not at least get a name. He swiped a glass of something for himself as well as he stepped by the man’s side.

“Do you not care for dancing either, Sir?” Charles spoke smoothly, trying to calm the giddiness he felt in his chest. It had been over four years now since he had approached anyone himself. Monaco was much too small to meet new people most days and before then he had been too occupied..

The man turned his head, seemingly surprised by new company, eyebrows raising before falling back into their neutral stance. Sharp ocean eyes scanned his appearance in one fell swoop, lingering at his neck before trailing back to his eyes and Charles couldn’t help the excitement that wandered up his spine. He moved his hand up to brush across his neck where his mother’s necklace was placed. 

The man bowed his head in a gentle greeting before looking back at the dance floor, “I am accompanying my sister tonight, there is no need for me to step on innocent feet out there.”

Charles couldn’t help biting back a smile at those words. Another man who could not dance, how refreshing. “Your sister? Is it her season?” he asked, attempting to follow the man’s gaze to see if he could find someone who resembled such beauty. 

“Yes, but I’m afraid she’ll lose herself in all these ridiculous functions here in London.”

That’s when Charles realized the man had a foreign accent. He was not from England either. He did not care for the season.  The flickering interest in his chest was turning into a steady flame.

“If you don’t mind me asking, where are you from, Sir?” He asked next, gaze back on the man’s side profile. He noticed some sparse remnants of facial hair across his cheek.

Finally the man looked at him again, the same look of surprise pressed into his eyes but it disappeared just like the last time. “Belgium,” he stated, “I moved there when I was a child.” 

Ah, that explained the man’s distaste and how strong his accent seemed to be.

“And are you enjoying London?” Charles pondered.

“No.”

He blinked. Well, that had not been an answer he expected and the man seemed to know that as he smiled faintly at Charles’ expression. “My heart resides back home, I’m afraid. I am simply here for the season to ensure my sister weds well. My father is too busy to attend most balls unfortunately.”

Well, that was understandable. Charles had grown up here and he still missed Monaco dearly every day.

“I see…” Charles spoke, and he thought how foolish he had been. This man must have a family already back in Belgium. He was simply doing his duty as a brother, just as Lorenzo. 

He did not let a frown spread across his face, instead continuing to smile lightly, “Well, has she taken to anyone, sir…?” he asked curiously. He needed a name at least before he thought of his dashed dreams. 

But before he could get an answer they were interrupted. 

“Charles!” A stern voice called out and Charles felt his cheeks flush at the scolding tone of his brother. 

Brilliant, of course he would find a way to humiliate him publicly. 

He turned to his other side, watching as Lorenzo marched his way over, eyes following him as he walked and straight towards them.

“Brother,” Charles forced his voice to seem as pleasant as possible, “You mustn’t yell, it’s not proper.” What on earth had possessed Lorenzo that he was creating a scene. He hated scenes. 

“What you are doing is not proper,” Came his brother's reply, anger clearly visible in his eyes and he blinked, confused.

He hadn’t even done anything. All he had done was dance with who Lorenzo wanted him to dance with and then speak to one man.

“Enzo…” Charles' voice dipping into a whisper, “You are causing a scene. I was only making conversation…”

“With improper company!” Lorenzo hissed harshly, glaring eyes now pointed behind Charles’ shoulder.

What?

“Brother! Do not be rude!” He cried out quickly, turning, “I am so sorry, sir. I do not know what possessed my brother this evening.”

His acquaintance however did not look offended or surprised by the outburst. 

Instead, he offered Charles a kind smile and his heart stilled for a moment in his chest. 

“It is alright. I must excuse myself and find my sister.” He dipped his head in a short goodbye before disappearing between the hoards of people who had been watching the whole exchange. 

Charles’ face only grew warmer at the immense attention on him. He wasn’t given a chance to apologize however, as Lorenzo grabbed a hold of his wrist and dragged him out of the room and out into the cold night. 

“What is your problem now!?” Charles couldn’t help but cry out, ripping his arm out of his hold. 

“Why can you never listen to me?”

He watched as his brother began pacing across the cobbled pathway.

He was beginning to lose the last of his patience with Lorenzo. For some odd reason nothing Charles did was good enough for him. Now he could not even speak to a man he found worthwhile. In the end, he would be getting married and out of Lorenzo’s hands. Why did it matter who found his future spouse?

Charles let out a frustrated sigh, sitting down on the stone step that led down to the Russells’ gardens. He missed his garden back in Monaco.

“The Verstappens are not proper company, you are not to speak to him again.”

His head shot up as Lorenzo finally spoke up. “Excuse me?” He asked, “Since when are you allowed to dictate who I speak to?”

“Charles, please. Papa spoiled you. You must realize that by now, non? This is how it works in proper society. Papa did not realize the way he raised us was not proper and I intend to fix that.”

Was Lorenzo serious?

It felt like he had been scoffing for days. “Are you insulting how Papa raised us?” He spat out, hoping his ears had deceived him.

Lorenzo himself seemed taken aback by his words. “Charles! I would never, but Papa is not with us anymore and I must make sure our family remains respected. Now, you will not speak to the Verstappens again.”

You must give all control to me, brother, is what he heard.

“I am retiring for the night.” Charles stood up, brushing his pants free of dirt and rocks. 

“Charles–”

“No, brother. I want to go home.”

He hoped his brother was kind enough to grant him that one wish. He was beyond tired and fed up at this point. 

They stared at each other silently for a moment before Lorenzo agreed.

“Very well, I will get the carriage ready, you inform mother and Arthur, please.”

The addition of please felt mocking, but he headed back inside nonetheless. He ignored everyone's piercing gazes on him, even ignoring Lord Alonso’s attempt to say goodbye. He found Arthur first, telling him they were leaving before searching for their mother, who seemed to be surrounded by other ladies. Wonderful.

“Maman,” he called out gently, hoping it would attract her attention. Instead, it got everyone's attention. 

“My! Charles, you have grown wonderfully!”

“The Monaco sun treated you well I see.”

“How are you, Charles? Has anyone caught your eye?” 

“You know my daughter is in her season as well this year.”

“You have grown so thin, dear, are you alright?”

Each comment dug deeper into his annoyance and he wanted nothing but to go home. He tried his best to greet everyone with a smile, finally reaching his mother. “Enzo says it's time to go,” he stated through gritted teeth hoping she would notice her discomfort. 

Pascale simply nodded, bidding her goodbyes before taking his arm in her own and leading them back out of the house. 

Charles couldn’t help but skim the halls as they left for his mystery man, but he had altogether vanished as well. He did not blame the man for doing so with how rude Lorenzo had been.

It occurred to him at that moment that his brother had foolishly given Charles the man's name during his outburst.

Verstappen.

Mr Verstappen.

What a beautiful name.

-

“I am surprised you agreed so hurriedly to attend this ball, after how abruptly you wanted to leave the first one,” his mother commented quietly as she looked over his attire for the evening.

There was no way to tell one's mother that he wanted to catch a single glimpse of a man he had only exchanged a few words with.

“I do not want to keep fighting with, Lorenzo,” Charles mumbled, hands coming up to tug at his collar. 

This new outfit was much more intricate than his last. His mother, it seemed, had a few drinks with the seamstress when they had been planning. There were pearls sewn into the fabric and it was all creams and white fabric. 

Charles felt like he was made to be put on display in an outfit like this.

“Oh, mon coeur ,” His mother frowned slightly, taking a hold of both of his hands, “Thank you for putting up with your brother. He is only doing what he thinks best for the family.”

For a moment Charles had thought his mother would be telling him they could leave if he pleased, but instead it was her joy for him being obedient. 

So he managed a smile for his mother, squeezing her hands back as he glanced at Lorenzo, who stood at his side. He was also frowning, eyes flickering between the people ahead and Charles.

Charles attempted to match the direction Lorenzo was looking towards, but it was no use as his mother pulled his attention back. Hopefully it was not another old man his brother was waiting to introduce him to.

The second ball of the season was being held by the Albons. A family close to the Russells. Charles recalled meeting their son, Alexander, during the ball last week.

The forced smile remained on his face as he greeted family after family. Arthur was long gone to find food, no doubt, and his mother was occupied by the other ladies and mothers. 

Lorenzo, it seemed, was even more eager to show Charles off like some sort of prize than the first ball. Verstappen, being the reason.

It was like Lorenzo suspected him of running off with the man after one meeting. Which he supposed would not be the most out of character move, but he would at the same time never do anything that scandalous and leave his mother to face the consequences, especially with Arthur still under her care. 

That did not make it any less tortuous as Charles’ hand was kissed by man after man. Stiff dances shared with them all, his waist held a little too tightly, and one man even stunk so viciously of garlic it had his eyes tearing up. 

At least his dance with Alex had been nice. The man was kind and respectful, offering idle conversation, but it was clear his heart was not quite present either. Charles offered him the out first, smiling kindly as Alex took the excuse and hurried off towards George. Interesting.

Of course, being free, Lorenzo did not hesitate in hurrying him along, this time to meet some man from Mexico who went by Lord Perez.

“Mr. Leclerc,” Perez greeted him, a kiss to his hand as he bowed his head. Charles managed to keep his smile from breaking.

He came from Mexico, Lorenzo had informed him, the accent proving him correct—ot that Lorenzo could ever be wrong, with his endless amount of information on suitors for Charles.

All the men Lorenzo introduced to him were similar. Most of them older, all had plenty of money and land to their names, all capable of giving Charles a comfortable life and a large enough dowry. 

It never made him feel like more than a prize being auctioned off. His mother had even taken to calling him the diamond of the season with how many prospects he had. 

Only Arthur understood his disdain for it all, but even he was too young to really understand and if Charles' wedding went well, Arthur would most likely be able to choose his own spouse or have some for Lorenzo to consider.

Sergio was quickly shoved onto his ‘no’ list as well, chattering nonstop about how they would move to Mexico  and Charles and he would live on his estate. It got worse as he continued. 

Charles could never think of leaving his family and moving so far. He didn’t understand how Lorenzo would think he was fine with leaving them behind and living alone in some foreign country where he would not even be able to speak to anyone until he properly learnt their language. 

Charles was sure he would lose his sanity not being able to speak to anyone unless they by chance knew French or English.

“Mr. Leclerc?” Sergio spoke up, snatching him out of his thoughts once again. 

“Hm? Sorry, what were you saying?” 

Sergio didn’t seem to mind his disinterest, simply repeating himself and trying to maintain the conversation. Charles would rather have wanted the man to be annoyed or ask Charles if he was busy so he could make a quick escape. 

“Have you traveled much?” He asked next, and Charles finally looked away from the dessert table to Sergio, finally a topic of slight interest. 

“Mainly throughout France and a few holidays in Italy, actually. Every summer we go back home to Monaco as well. It’s nice being able to visit other cities but still be close to family. I would hate to leave them.” He purposely mentioned that, hoping Sergio would get the hint that he did not want to move to Mexico, thus making him a bad match.

But it did not seem to affect the man. “That sounds lovely. You must come to Mexico. It’s a wonderful country, I would love to host you during your visit.”

Charles tried not to let his eye twitch at the mention of a visit. “How kind! I shall inform my brother and I am sure my family would love for you to host us.” He feigned innocence, knowing that Sergio was hoping for a solo visit. The man could not help the twitch on his face, unlike Charles.

“Ah, yes. Your whole family would be welcome, and of course, perhaps it could be your own home one day.”

There it was. 

Charles continued to look at him as kindly as possible. “Perhaps...” he mumbled, scanning the room hurriedly before Sergio could sweep him away for another dance.

Though, just his luck, there was an arm looping around his waist, “Perhaps we can find a quieter room to speak in?” Sergio’s voice came close to his ear. Too close.

The smile fell from his lips as he turned in his arms. “Excuse me?” He raised his eyebrows. 

It wasn’t like any gentlemen to ask to step away in privacy, especially during a ball. It wasn’t appropriate at all. 

“A quieter place,” Sergio repeated the arm tightening around him, and Charles felt his blood go cold, “Come on, Mr. Leclerc. I have heard you are quite adventurous.”

Charles immediately pulled away from his grasp, a glare setting into his face. “Is this how you treat all the young men and ladies in your company? That is highly inappropriate, Lord Perez.” His voice was loud on purpose. He was not going to be swindled by some old man. 

The music had quietened down. The whole room was focused on Charles and Perez and as much as he disdained it, at least others would be witness to it. Charles was very capable of handling himself, but it would not hurt to get the attention of his brothers, hopefully, and the Albons.

The older man was floundering in his place, laughing nervously. “I said no such thing!” the man protested, “I do not take kindly to being accused of things by some immature man. This is disrespectful to my name.”

“Your name? And what of me? You tried to take me to another room! Alone!”

That got some gasps and whispers around the room. 

“What is going on?” Alex’s voice came out from the crowd, appearing by Charles' side, George standing next to him.

Where on god's earth was Lorenzo?

“He tried to take me to another room!” Charles quickly explained, jaw clenched. 

“Mr. Leclerc is falsely accusing me, Mr. Albon. I would never do such a thing.”

Alex looked from him to Perez. “And why would Mr. Leclerc find joy in accusing you of something like this?” he questioned.

Perez let out a laugh, “How would I know? The Leclerc’s have always covered up for their second oldest. I am sure this mask of innocence even now is false.”

Mask of innocence? Covering up for him? Who did this man think he was?

“You utter—” Charles half lurched forward, but he was stopped as Alex grabbed ahold of his arm and gave him a firm look. 

Don’t cause a scene. Do not cause a scene. 

“Lord Sergio. I do not take kindly to men who listen to some ridiculous rumors. Whether or not it is true, you do not know Charles or his family and neither does he know yours. Charles’ character has never shown for him to have such ill intentions as to have someone disrespected so publicly like this. I think for the rest of the evening it would be better for you to keep to yourself.”

Alex’s words were firm, full of confidence, and it almost surprised Charles that he had come to his defense. They had only spoken a handful of times, yet he was showing him so much kindness. 

Perez, on the other hand, continued to splutter in shock. “I–I have never felt so disrespected in my entire life. How do you know Charles was not the one throwing himself at me?” the man accused, voice loud.

It stunned most of the crowd to quietness, whispers picking up again as ladies considered the accusation. 

The anger in his blood was boiling down into panic. A man so respected accusing him of this would get the rumors flying. It made him feel sick. Alex’s grip on him loosened, looking like he was going to be flying forward, until suddenly there was a new man stepping forward.

It took a moment for Charles to recognize who it was, but as he caught sight of the scruff and the familiar dark blue material, it came to him.

Verstappen.

“Lord Perez,” the man spoke smoothly, his accent as heavenly sounding as the previous week, “it has been awhile, no?”

Sergio looked put off by the sudden appearance of Verstappen, blinking at him cluelessly before something like panic struck across his face. 

Oh?

“Mr. Verstappen…” the man replied slowly, “I have not seen you since your father last visited us…”

There was a sly smile on Verstappen’s face and Charles could not pull his eyes away. 

“Ah, yes. I was younger then, but I do remember a lot of that meeting. How are your children? Your wife? I hope she is well. Have you been away from home for long?”

A larger silence washed over the crowd. Not even the ladies continued to gossip as Verstappen dropped previously unknown information.

A wife and children and this man was wanting more?!

Would this man have made Charles some sort of kept man?

“Lord Perez, is this true?” Alex asked, disgust clear in his tone as he stepped forward to stand next to Verstappen. “You have kept your marriage hidden and come to London to find another spouse?”

This time, it was clear Sergio would be losing the fight. 

“I—I have no idea what you mean. A wife? I don’t know what you speak of, boy, but—” There was no rescuing himself from this.

“No? Perhaps my mind could be mistaken. Shall I fetch my sister? I am sure you remember Victoria. She is good friends with your daughter, no? I am sure she did not hallucinate writing letters to her.” Verstappen continued, the sly smile on his face never leaving—and lord was that attractive. 

Charles watched as Perez searched for words and excuses but came up empty handed. This man was going to be ousted for sure.

Alex was not going to let a liar stay here any longer either way. “I think it is time for you to leave, Lord Perez.” There was no room for arguments as Alex crowded his space and they all watched as the man scampered off like a frightened dog, tail between his legs.

He allowed himself to breathe, finally, as the man disappeared through the doorway. There were still lingering gazes on him, Alex talking softly with Verstappen.

“Are you alright, Charles?” George softly spoke up, eyeing him worriedly.

He managed a nod, giving him a small smile as well. “Have you seen my—” but he cut his own sentence up as he saw a frantic Lorenzo coming through the open patio doors. It looked like he had run an entire length of a racing field to get here. Someone must have gone to find him, a lady swiftly moving into the room behind him, her face obscured. 

For a moment there Charles felt like he was six years old again, needing the comfort of his older brother, who always knew what to do. Always had a solution and never let him or Arthur get hurt. Even if they were fighting right now he couldn’t help but crave that same feeling again.

He felt violated, he felt disgusting and overall, sadness was pouring over him.

Like a child, a pout formed on his face as Lorenzo hurried over to him, George quietly slipping away. 

“Where were you?” Charles cried out, almost like a child, “I just got berated publicly whilst you were out having your fresh air!”

Lorenzo’s face seemed to soften for what felt like the first time since their father had passed. “Oh, mon petit …” His brother's voice was soft and Charles felt tears threaten to spill down his cheek hearing the endearment he had used since they were young.

“Enzo,” he repeated, trying to stay mad, but it all melted away as Lorenzo tugged him into a hug and Charles could hear George snapping at those who lingered, telling them to get on with their evening.

Charle did his best to not let tears escape, not wanting to worsen this evening for himself even though they would be soaked up by Lorenzo’s coat. It was not long ago that Lorenzo had been taller than him but even now Charles felt small in his embrace. 

“Désolé, Charles, je suis désolé,” Lorenzo whispered against the side of his head.

A quiet whimper escaped Charles at those words.

It had only been two balls in the season and both of them had ended in pure destruction. When had his luck become so rotten? Why had nothing ever gone right for him?

Lorenzo continued to hold him tightly and Charles could not have been more thankful for his patience.

It was not until there was a gentle hand to the back of his head that he raised his eyes to be met with his mother’s worried face. 

“Oh, mon coeur .” Her voice was gentle as she held his face carefully with one gloved hand. “He will pay for what he said, do not fret. Your father would have never let this go and Enzo will make sure of it as well.”

Tears blurred his eyes hearing those words and how Lorenzo nodded his head in agreement. “Alex has gone to inform Lord and Lady Albon, do not worry, Charles, he will not get away with accusing you like this.”

“Thank you.” He managed the words out without choking on a sob, his mother wiping away a stray tear. It was clear she was unhappy with what had happened, a new crease across her forehead. He hated causing trouble for his family, but this time it had not even been his fault.

“We’re going home now, okay, mon petit ?” Lorenzo asked softly and Charles managed a nod, detangling himself from his brother and mother. He found Arthur standing a few steps away, equal parts of anger and worry printed across his face.

“I’m alright…” He offered the soft reassurance, beckoning Arthur over to give the younger a firm hug, “It’s okay, I promise.”

Arthur’s anger didn’t seem to fade but he nodded nonetheless, sticking close to his side as they waited for Lorenzo and their mother to say their goodbyes. Charles thanked Alex and George for their support, though they were kind enough to say there was no need to thank them.

There was another person Charles desperately wanted to thank, but it seemed like Verstappen had completely disappeared from the ball. There was no glimpse of dirty blonde hair or that dark blue coat. He had come to his rescue without question and completely disappeared. He had not even stayed for Charles to thank him.

On one hand he knew Verstappen had most likely not wanted to anger Lorenzo, but it still left a bit rude leaving without thanking the man. So before he slipped out he asked Alex to thank Verstappen for him if he saw him again. Alex had given him an odd look, but agreed before wishing them safe travels with George waving at them as well, tucked into Alex’s side. 

They looked good together.

The carriage back home was a quiet one. Charles had sat down next to his mother, his head resting on her shoulder as he pressed himself against her. It felt like months had gone by since he had last felt her affection. Her hand rested on his cheek, mundanely tracing shapes on his face. It was relaxing, but felt less so as he caught sight of Lorenzo’s frowning face. 

Perhaps it was not because of his behavior, but Lorenzo’s disdain was still caused by him.

Sometimes he really did think he was too much trouble for his family..

Maybe Lorenzo marrying him off would be good for them all.

At least they could avoid trouble like this.

Charles' eyes skimmed to Arthur’s face in the dim carriage. His younger brother looked equally as distressed. Charles almost wanted to tell him to stop frowning; he was too young for wrinkles. But he held his tongue. He did not know what could set Arthur off right now.

Instead he stuck out a hand and patted the free space next to him, “C'mere…” he whispered, and his brother was quick to maneuver over to him, tucking himself against Charle’s side. He pressed a kiss to Arthur’s head, trying not to focus on how Arthur’s hand gripped onto the fabric of his jacket.

How was he meant to leave his family behind like this?

When they arrived home, Lorenzo disappeared back into the study. Charles could not help feeling disappointed. He thought perhaps Enzo could spare some time, but it seemed like he had been wrong. Charles was left alone again, as he had urged Arthur to get his sleep. This was nothing he could discuss with the youngest.

He tried to not take it to heart as he changed out of his attire and sank into the warm bath one of the maids had prepared for him. He sank deep into the warmth, enjoying the soak after the stressful day before getting into his most comfortable nightgown and layering his favorite robe on top, a rich red shade. It helped keep the warmth in from his bath as he curled up at his desk with a blanket wrapped around himself. 

Tonight was a night he desperately wished he was young again. Young enough to not be a target to such situations and young enough to crawl into his mothers bed and ask her to sing him to sleep. But he was not and his only resort was writing a letter to Pierre.

He would have to send it off in the morning but he wrote nonetheless, informing Pierre of every detail until he could no longer keep his eyes open. 

Eventually, his tiredness became too much as he clambered into his bed and fell asleep restlessly between his blankets and sheets, hoping to dream of his happiest memories.

Chapter Text

London

The next morning proved to be much brighter.

He had planned on sleeping much of the day away, the events of the previous day still swimming in his mind whenever he did awaken, but as there was a knock on his door and a message for him, his plans came to a change.

He barely managed to pull pants on as he rushed out into the main hall where, to his delight, stood his dearest Pierre . It seemed like he would have no need to send the letter from last night afterall.

“Pierre!” Charles cried out excitedly as he rushed down the stairs and pulled his best friend into a warm embrace, pressing a kiss to either side of his face.

“Calamar!” Pierre greeted with the same affection, mimicking his movements. 

It had been months since he had last seen him, mainly keeping in touch through letters as Pierre resided in Milan and he himself had been in Monaco. Pierre had moved back home after his marriage, wanting to show Esteban his family land and where they could raise their family.

He had not even known Pierre would be coming to England at all. No mention of it at all from his closest friend.

“How are you here? You wrote that you would not be able to get away from your work!”

Pierre only shook his head, “You think I would miss your season, calamar? Someone needs to work against your brother's wishes,” he spoke mischievously. 

Oh, how he loved Pierre.

Their chatter however had grabbed Lorenzo’s attention, who wandered out of their father’s study. Had he slept there? Charles could not help but take in Enzo’s wrinkled clothes from the night before and how his hair seemed to be pressed against the side of his head.

“Oh? Pierre, I did not know we were expecting you.” He drew closer greeting Pierre the same as he had.

“You thought I would miss Charles' wedding? I could not dream of it.”

That seemed to please his brother, “Oh good! Perhaps you can convince him that marriage is not a life sentence then,” with a glance sent towards him, and then he was immediately frowning, “Charles, you could have at least dressed properly.” Oh, so it was back to this. It did not take long for Lorenzo to remember his true goal.

Charles simply shrugged, “It’s only Pierre, besides, he is married. Speaking of his marriage, how is Esteban? Do you still argue as much?” He asked, pulling Pierre into the closest drawing room to get rid of his brother's lingering gaze.

Catching up with Pierre was always a treat. Their families had known each other since they were infants. Their fathers had been impossibly close. Pierre was two years older, but they had been glued at the hip since meeting and still were even in different countries. 

“Well…?” Pierre pushed, “Have you met anyone yet? Someone whose company you have enjoyed?” 

Charles glanced at the drawing room doors even though he knew they were still closed. He could not risk Lorenzo embarrassing him again. “I did, actually! But Enzo interrupted before I could even introduce myself,” he muttered, annoyed as he recalled the ball from weeks ago. “Can you believe he yelled my name like that in public?! I swear, it was like something had possessed him. He’s always sure to be proper in public, yet he called the man I spoke to improper company.” 

Not to mention he had not even cared to explain how Verstappen was improper. 

“Improper company?” Pierre echoed curiously, “Did you catch his name?”

“No, but Enzo seemed to know him,” he huffed out, “The family name is Verstappen. Have you heard–”But Charles cut himself as he looked back at Pierre who had gone still at the name.

Oh no.

“Please do not tell me he is actually a terrible man,” Charles found himself begging, “I cannot apologize to Enzo.”

But Pierre’s expression did not change. “Oh, calamar… ” He whispered, and Charles could not help but let out a noise of frustration. Wonderful . Fantastic even.

“What could he have even done? He seemed perfectly kind last night,” he complained.

“It is less of what he did and more of what his father has done…” Pierre explained.

That only made Charles frown grow. Not this again. Oh , how he despised society. Why must they blame a man’s mistake on his whole family, especially children. “You are telling me he is a fine man though, non? Not everyone grows to become their father, look at Enzo after all.” 

“Charles,” Pierre murmured and he hated that tone. He despised it. He was not a child anymore. 

“He comes from Belgium, did you know?” Charles continued, “A foreigner stuck in London for the season, just like me.” 

“You are not a foreigner, Charles.”

He was close enough. He found himself shrugging his shoulders, picking at the loose threads of an embroidered pillow. 

“Did you really come here for my wedding?” He asked in an attempt to change the subject from Verstappen . 

“Of course. I will not be letting Enzo marry you to some old man. Did he introduce you to Lord Alonso ?”

Charles' nose wrinkled at the mention as he nodded, “He looked older than papa…” He mumbled distastefully.

“Oh, centuries older I am sure,” Pierre agreed, “He was at my wedding you know? That is where he asked of you, Este refused to speak on your behalf but I fear that's how he must have gotten to your brother.”

That meant they had been conspiring for two years. Fantastic. Sure, he understood some people marrying for the money his name held, but Charles could not see himself doing so. Not even if he was to be penniless for the rest of his life. At least it had not been Perez he supposed. He did not even know if he should inform Pierre about last night,

It also meant that Fernando would in no way be giving up easily if he had spoken to Lorenzo back then, unless his brother had still deemed their secret proper back then.

“Would you hide me away in Milan? I could keep Este company whilst you are out for business!” Charles suggested, smiling as sweetly as possible at his closest friend. 

“I fear Lorenzo would prepare an army to find you, calamar. I would hide you away if I could, but this is not an easy situation to run from.”

Charles huffed softly again, laying across the sofa, his head balanced in Pierre’s lap, who offered him a sad smile and tangled his fingers into his hair. “Are you growing your hair out?”

“I thought perhaps they would like me less with untidy hair.”

Pierre let a laugh escape his lips, “I do not think anything would make you look any less beautiful.” 

Charles sighed, gazing up at the ceiling, “I miss papa…” he ended up confessing.

He knew he was going to miss his father when he passed but the reality of how much his heart would ache to be able to hug him one last time never occurred to him. How even a year later he expected to wake up and find his father having his morning tea or be returning from a hunt with Lorenzo in the late evenings.

Not to mention he would have never allowed this to happen to him.

His eyes searched for Pierre’s again, sadness clear in his as well. “I am sure he is cursing Enzo out watching all this happen, calamar.” 

Charles hoped so.

-

Having Pierre accompany him to the next ball definitely helped his attitude and anxiety of it all after the last one. It seemed like no one had told Pierre what had happened and Charles had decided to keep it like that. He did not need more people angry in his honor. Lorenzo also did not dare to make a single comment with Pierre by his side. He knew better than to. 

He could not help but miss when he and Pierre had been younger, no need to attend silly balls, and would run through the halls of their homes chasing each other. But now here he was, searching for someone to spend the rest of his life with whilst Pierre had a wedding ring on his left hand.

The second ball of the season was being held at the Sainz estate, at least here he was familiar with the family’s home. Carlos Sainz Jr, the son of Lord Sainz, had often been his riding partner when he had been learning. Like most of his friends, he had not seen Carlos since the funeral and nor his husband, Lando. Carlos had sent a letter when they had arrived in London apologizing for their absence as they had been visiting Lando’s family, who resided further into England. They had only arrived back home yesterday and the invitations had been sent out by Lord and Lady Sainz right away, wanting to celebrate their return properly, as well as their season's chance to impress. After all, Carlos’ sister had yet to marry.

Carlos had never been expected to marry first, but it had been Lando’s season and it had been love at first sight according to the two love birds, who began courting in mere days. Charles had the opportunity to watch them trip over themselves and it had been quite wonderful to see their love bloom like that.

Was it too much to ask for him to have the same?

“Do you think Verstappen will be here as well?” Pierre asked, gazing upon the mingling crowd. They were yet to find their friends. 

Verstappen was still an unsure topic for him. He had helped him at the ball and he did not want to judge the man because of his father and he knew Lorenzo would never understand that, but it could not hurt talking to him without his brother’s gaze on him. Pierre had smoothly talked his family into being his chaperone for the evening, insisting Pascale could use an evening to herself and Lorenzo could get some work done. Arthur had taken the opportunity to have an evening outing of his own. 

“I believe he will be. It is his sister’s season…” Charles murmured, green eyes continuing to search for piercing blue before suddenly there was a heavy weight knocking into his chest out of nowhere. Pierre let out a small gasp from next to him.

Lando had launched himself at him without a moment's notice and Charles laughed, hugging the shorter boy back.

“Charles!”

“Lando!” He exclaimed back without hesitation.

“Aye, cariño, I think you knocked over someone!” Carlos’ voice followed, appearing right behind Lando, who was still clinging to him. 

Lando did not seem affected, grinning widely as he pulled back, grabbing a hold of his hands. “Finally you are back home! Did you rest well in Monaco? You look happier!” He began chatting right away and oh, how he had missed Lando’s chatter.

The boy talked like it would be his last breath at a moment's notice. It was refreshing after always having people around him choose their words so carefully. Now he truly felt at home, as Carlos set his hands on Lando’s shoulders, “Breathe, mi amor.” 

All the people he adored were finally together. 

Lando attempted to shrug off the touch right away. “Charles is not complaining.”

“Pierre,” Carlos greeted with a smile. Never one to forget his manners. “Charles would not even complain if you insulted his hair. When you are together everyone else should be fearful.” There was amusement tangled with endearment in his voice. 

It was true, he and Lando had gotten on better than any of Carlos’ sisters. Charles did not even know where it had come from, but they had clicked and Carlos had many complaints of Lando not giving him enough attention after their marriage. 

“You are simply jealous of our friendship,” Charles threw back, amused, before letting Carlos pull him in for a brief hug. Carlos even reached out to ruffle his hair but Lando’s hand shot out, pulling his husband’s hand back. 

“Careful, you muppet! Don’t forget this is Charles’ season. He’s got to look perfect.”

He couldn’t help but groan at Lando’s mention of it. “Oh, please do not tell me you are hoping for me to get married by the end of the season?” He asked weakly.

Lando blinked, “You do not want that?”

“It is the last thing I want...this was not even my choice. Lorenzo insisted and mother thought he was brilliant for it.”

Lando was quiet for a moment, studying his face closely. If anyone else it would have brought him discomfort, but he knew Lando was simply collecting his words. 

But Pierre interrupted before Lando spoke. 

“Though–!” Charles shot him a glare but Pierre continued nonetheless, “There is someone who has caught his eye…,” he trailed off before nodding at Carlos, “Mr. Verstappen.”

Carlos’ eyes widened just a bit from behind Lando, but they did not carry the look Lorenzo or Pierre had given him. “Max?” Carlos spoke out, “I did not know he had turned to London and he looks to wed?” 

Max.

He seemed eager for more information, but there was little they could give him. Lando had turned to look at his husband as well. “Is Max not who you send too many letters to?” he asked.

“Apparently he is here for his sister’s season, not for his own,” Pierre added.

“Ah, of course! Victoria!” Carlos recalled, nodding his head away, “He had mentioned it a few months back but I never thought he would accompany her.”

Charles couldn’t help but let hope creep up into his chest as Carlos spoke of his acquaintance with no hatred. Surely this Max Verstappen could not be as foul a character as Lorenzo made him out to be. Carlos was the gentlemen of gentlemen, he never placed himself in bad company. 

“Would you be able to introduce us?” Charles spoke up a little softly, “I did not get the chance to speak to him with Enzo around.” 

“I would be happy to, Charles, but I need you to know he has not wanted to marry since young. I do not know even if the prince of Monaco would be able to change his mind.”

“Well, he will be pleased to know the forsaid prince will not be attending this ball, so come on, go find him.” Charles hurried him along, sending Pierre along with Carlos so at least one man with brains would be facing Max.

“I am sorry you are being forced into the season, I wish it were different,” Lando spoke up, a frown pressed into the tanned skin of his. “I assumed you would be as excited as I had been.”

“There is nothing to forgive Lando, you did not know. It is alright.”

Lando nodded, but it was clear he was still upset with himself, which would not do at all. “Shall we go to the gardens? I want to see the gardens you so eagerly cared for all these months.” Charles asked with a soft smile.

That seemed to do the trick, as Lando hurried them out through the glass doors and off into the evening. The sun was beginning to set just beyond the horizon, the sky a mix of oranges and pinks overhead. It was gorgeous. An evening his papa would have adored. 

They must have lost track of how much time they spent in the gardens. Lando showed him each and every individual flower and type of plant he had planted, even explaining how he had insisted on planting themselves to every gardener and even Lord Sainz himself.

Their only light ended up coming from a small lantern that Lando kept hidden away and there was a new chill to the air around them. 

“Perhaps we should go back?” Charles suggested, holding up the light higher in the air, “Pierre and Carlos must be wondering where we went.”

Lando, who had been crouching down next to his daisies, gestured to bring the light back down, “Just one moment, I think something has been eating my daisies. If you are cold you can return inside, I will follow after.”

He sighed softly, he should have known it would be hard to drag Lando away from his children. 

“Do you at least have another lantern so I do not have to leave you in the darkness, I doubt you will be able to see in the dark.”

At that Lando sat up, eyebrows furrowed, “Ah! I think it is in the garden shed. Do you mind waiting here while I go get it? I know the route, I will be quick.”

Charles nodded, handing his own lantern over to Lando and his friend disappeared further into the gardens. The gardens had looked less intimidating in the daytime. He had never even noticed just how big they were. How on earth did Lando care for all of them perfectly?

- 

This had been a mistake. 

Such a mistake.

How has every ball of the season gone wrong in some way?

It had been much too long since Lando had left him and he was still swamped in darkness. In the faint distance the lights of the estate could still be seen, which gave the area a slight glow, but Charles did not know the pathway back through all the hedges of the garden.  

“Lando?” he called out tentatively.

There was no reply.

“Lando?” He attempted again, a little louder and he got nothing. 

Slight fear ran through his body at the thought of something happening to Lando. His friend would not have abandoned him like this. There was a possibility of him getting distracted, but that did not leave him with any sort of solution. There were a million things that could distract Lando in his own garden. 

Charles stood up from the bench he had been sitting on, walking over to the alcove he had disappeared through, but alas he was only met with more darkness. Brilliant. 

He turned around and eyed the alcove that they had come through initially, surely there could not be too many pathways for him to get lost in? It was getting far too cold to wait around for his friend and not to mention Pierre would be worrying. 

But if he returned without Lando… Carlos would worry.

Oh god. 

With newfound determination, he moved into the direction Lando had gone, surely it would lead him to his friend eventually.

Charles had been wrong. Very wrong.

He no longer knew the path back and dark clouds had rolled over the night sky, the moon barely peeking out from under them. Panic swelled in his chest at the sight of it.

He did not think he could have been any more miserable, but the weather had decided to prove him wrong.

The first few raindrops hit a moment later, Charles trapped with nothing to hide under as he glared at the multiple pathways. He was going to kill Lando. 

“Lando?” He called out much louder now, hoping for any sort of sound, but there was nothing but the pitter patter of rain hitting the cobbled pathway he now stood on. The rain began to soak into his clothes and his hair now plastered across his forehead. 

Deep breaths, Charles.

“I am going to kill him,” He muttered under his breath, wrapping his arms around him as the rain worsened, as if that would help him in any way, his teeth gritted together to stop them from chattering. He stood in the middle of the pathway miserably, willing his mind to work and come up with a solution.

It was nothing like that night. It could not be a repeat of that night. There were no horses, no thunder, no Lorenzo. 

Arthur was home. 

Yet Charles was getting soaked to the bone, and he swore he could hear his own cries swallowed up in the wind even though he had not opened his mouth.

Jules.

“Mr. Leclerc!” A worried voice shot out over the rain and oh, he recognized that voice. 

Max.

Max had come to his rescue once again.

Charles whirled around only to find the man a few steps away from him now, an umbrella pulled up over his head and a lantern in his other. 

He could have cried of relief. 

In a second Max was inches away from him, the umbrella now over the top of their heads, the lantern brought up closer to their faces. Charles wanted to chase the warmth of it. 

He wondered if Max’s hands would be warm pressed against his face.

They were stuck there for a moment, eyes boring into each other’s. Max’s more searching whilst his were simply frozen on those ocean eyes.

“Are you hurt?” Max's urgent voice cut through.

Jules had been hurt.

He managed to shake his head. “Cold. I could not find a way out and Lando abandoned me." He did not mean for his voice to come out in a whine, but he could not help it. This situation had dampened his mood and his energy to act proper. 

“Lando is not with you?” Max asked and the worry was back on his face. Oh. Of course they had been searching for both of them.

“No…he left for another lantern and never returned. I was worried so I went after him, but I could not find him…” New worry filled his chest as he explained the situation. What had happened to Lando? He could not lose another close to his heart. Charles could not help as he felt tears prick in the corners of his eyes and his stomach turned in discomfort. “No one can find him?” He managed out, tone watery. 

This was not like that night.

Max seemed to realize then that Charles was crying, his eyes widened. “We are searching! Carlos and Mr. Gasly are also searching along with many staff members. He will be found.” The hand holding the lantern bobbed up and down unsurely, looking as if Max wanted to place it elsewhere. “Do not lose hope, Mr. Leclerc.”

No thunder echoed in the distance.

Charles could not help but shuffle closer. There was a warmth radiating from Max even in this dreadful weather and Charles craved it. 

“You are cold,” Max murmured softly, but did not wait for any words as he handed him the umbrella and lantern. 

Charles watched as Max undid his coat, strong hands undoing the buttons. The speed of it made it look the smallest bit clumsy, but he was entranced by the movements. “My coat.” Max was offering a moment later, draping it across his shoulders. 

He offered him a small smile, his heart still pounding much too loud in his chest and tears clinging to his lashes.

Lando. Lando. Lando.

Jules.

It was not until there was a gentle hand taking the lantern from his own that he snapped out of his daze. A hand reached out to push the wet locks up and out of his eyes. The touch burned. “Is that better?” Max asked, and Charles was sure if he was in the right mind his heart would have been swooning. 

All he could do was nod as he gave the umbrella back and pulled the coat around himself tighter. 

“We must return to the others now, I am sure they are eagerly awaiting your return.”

Leave without Lando? “We mustn’t!” Charles cried out, “We have to search for Lando! I must find him. I do not want to get warm knowing he is stuck in this weather.”

Lorenzo would have killed him for his outburst. Anyone would have. 

Max however did not seem angry, nor annoyed. He seemed…he seemed like something Charles could not put his finger on. 

Panic was swimming his chest and it would not stop. 

“ Lieve, the others will find him,” Max spoke with a new softness in his tone and Charles' heart skipped a beat. He did not know the foreign word but it sounded almost loving.

“How are you sure?” His voice wavered again.

That's what they had said that night.

Lorenzo had lied to him.

Max did not mind the question, simply shaking his head with amusement. “Do you not recall who he is married to? Carlos would not rest until he is found. You must know that.”

And Charles did know this.

It was impossible for Carlos’ heart to not lead him to Lando. He would have found him across the globe if that had been the situation.

Carlos would find Lando and Charles would grovel for their forgiveness. 

Eventually he took a deep breath, “Lead the way,” he whispered. 

Lando would be fine.

The other man studied his face for a beat longer before nodding in confirmation. Carefully, they began their journey back, Max finding his way out of the gardens with practiced ease. Charles almost wanted to ask him why he knew them so well, but his tongue felt much too heavy to move at this point. 

To his embarrassment there was a group of people standing out by the doors as they made their return. The guests had seemingly all left and Charles hoped the ball had not been shortened on their behalf. 

Charles felt himself shrink back a tad bit, pushing himself into Max’s side. There were so many people. 

Just like that night. 

Everyone gathered, waiting for him to return with Arthur and Jules.

“Are you alright? Are you feeling faint?” Max asked, pausing immediately and looked about ready to drop everything in his hands to catch Charles. 

He wished he had fainted.

“Eyes…” he managed out, jerking his head over to the watchful eyes that Max had somehow not noticed because the man was immediately straightening up against him. 

The rain had calmed down in their walk back but it did not help the shakiness in his body. “Perhaps I can pretend to faint and you can carry me inside?”

“Pretend?” He asked in a slight alarm. “Mr. Leclerc, they are simply worried for your wellbeing.” Max took a step forward, “You will be alright.”

He was not alright.

Charles could not help but frown as he followed Max up the stone steps and was ushered inside by Lady Sainz.

His chest felt so heavy.

“You idiot boys! What were you thinking?” She scolded but her tone was soft, hands pressing against his cheeks and forehead before squeezing his arms, “What would I have told you mother if something had happened?”

Charles’ heart dropped further in his chest at the mention of his mother. She could not survive losing someone else and now he had lost the son of another mother. That seemed to be his breaking point.

“I am sorry…” He choked out, “I did not mean to lose Lando.” It all came at once, the sob lodged in his throat coming undone as the tears fell down his cheeks. “I am so sorry.”

He was too much of a blubbering mess to see the confusion on Lady Sainz face as she pulled him into her arms, cradling his head gently. Charles could not help but have the fleeting thought of ruining her dress. He did not know of how Max’s hands were clenched tightly by his sides, watching him sob in discomfort.

“My boy, Lando is alright. They found him,” Lady Sainz murmured, “They found him before we found you. He had fallen and hurt his ankle in the gardening shed, that clumsy boy.”

Charles could not help but whimper into her shoulder, barely able to wrap his head around the knowledge that Lando was okay. It only made him wail louder. The feelings he had been bottling up for weeks had all come out at once.

Jules had fallen.

“Dear, please go find Pierre. I do not think I can provide much comfort to him. Please tell everyone we have found him.”

There were rapid footsteps, doors opening and shutting, people speaking around him, but Charles could not process anything occurring around him. All he could focus on was how he could have lost another. 

“ Oh, mon cheri, ” He was pulled into a new embrace and he crumbled into Pierre’s arms, mumbling apologies and words falling into French at the comfort of his childhood friend.

“Fetch a glass of water!”

Charles could not breath as he clung onto Pierre. 

“Mon chéri, respire, tu dois respirer.”

It felt as if someone had taken all the air from his lungs as he cried out names uselessly as if that would have saved them.

Charles ended up choking on the sip of water, chest heaving for a breath as finally the sobs came to an end. He found himself some time later pressed into Pierre’s side, trembling as he squeezed his hands into small fists in his lap. 

Lando was alright.

The room had been dimmed since he had last remembered. There was no staff lingering and he could see Max sat across them on the couch. The man was not looking at him. A book was in his lap and he was studying it intently, fingers brushing across the thin spin.

He had shed most of his outerwear. Only in his shirt and waistcoat, the highest buttons undone and his neck on show. It was the only thing he could focus on in his dazed state.

“Calamar?” Pierre’s soft voice came out and Charles managed to push himself into a sitting position, blinking around the room as if he just woken up. The heat across his cheeks came next. Embarrassment flooded him as he remembered his own hysterics. 

Max had seen all of it. 

He had seen Charles fall apart before they had even exchanged names. 

He could not let the panic win again as he swallowed it all done, looking at Pierre finally. He looked exhausted, his eyes filled with worry nonetheless. 

He had always been a nuisance to his friend.

“Calmar, tu vas bien?” Pierre tried again, but Charles could not find his voice as he looked on. All he wanted was his bed. He wanted to sleep this terrible day away, but he had not seen Lando yet. 

Abruptly he found himself standing up, the commotion loud enough that Max was suddenly standing and Pierre followed.  The blanket around his shoulders landed on the ground.

“Lando…I must see Lando,” he managed out frowning at how odd his own voice sounded. He sounded so different. 

“Calamar…Lando is sleeping, which you should be doing as well. You need rest or you will fall ill.”

Charles felt like a child. 

“I—” It felt as if the extent of any language he knew had disappeared from his mind. The trembling had returned. 

Pierre took over with ease. The blanket was picked up from the floor and returned to its place on the couch. Charles realized it was not a blanket but in fact Max’s coat. “Come, mon cher i. We will go to the bedroom. Would you like Max to accompany you whilst I gather the things we need?”

Charles did not, but he feared he would not make it up the stairs if no one was with him. So he offered them a nod, Max appearing by his side as Pierre promised he would not long.

He grabbed the coat before the left, clutching the fabric in his hands. If Max had noticed he did not ask. Charles was thankful for that.

They were silent as they walked, Max never touching him but close enough to do so if needed. Charles used the help of the banister as they climbed up the steps, knowing he had simply agreed so he would not be alone. 

If Charles had one fear it was loneliness. The worst disease of them all. The type that crawled its way into your mind and made a home. 

It infested his mind, Charles knew that. 

Yet, there was nothing he could do for it. 

By the time Charles realized he did not know which bedroom had been set for him, Max was already leading the way without a word. 

It was a typical guest room, lanterns already lit and the covers and sheets folded over for him already, but he did not rush over to the bed as much as he wanted. Instead, he fiddled with the coat, gazing down at the fabric that had adorned his shoulders out in the rain. 

“I did not even manage to thank you when you found me,” Charles began turning around to face Max, who lingered in the doorway, “I did not mean to ruin your evening with all this foolishness. Thank you for rescuing me out there in the rain.”

Max shook his head, “There is no need to thank me, Mr. Leclerc. We had all been worried about where both of you had gone. Mr. Gasly and Carlos had shown great concern and panic, so it was only right to aid them. Especially with the kindness you had shown me previously.”

“Still–” Charles insisted, “Thank you for finding me. You found me at my wits end out there. I think I would have lost my mind if you had not found me.”

“It was nothing, lieve.”

There that word was again. Charles let himself smile softly, “That word, what does it mean?”

There was something unsaid in Max’s eyes, “Perhaps that is for another time.” He glanced back into the hallway and Pierre arrived a moment later, “I won’t keep you any longer. I bid you a good night, Mr. Leclerc, as of you, Mr. Gasly.” With a nod of his head, Max disappeared, leaving him with Pierre. 

It occurred to him in that moment he had not remembered to thank Max for his rescue from Perez. 

He would have to remember tomorrow.

“Get out of those clothes. They are still soaked with rain and it will make tomorrow worse.” Pierre handed him fresh clothing that smelt of Carlos if he thought of it. Carlos. Carlos, who he had hurt today.

Silently, Charles changed out of his clothing, Pierre doing the same, insisting Charles would not be alone tonight. It was not until he was drying the last of his damp hair that he spoke up. 

“Are you still getting nightmares of that night, cheri?” Pierre asked, stopping to stand in front of him.

Charles grimaced before shaking his head. He had not thought of that night for weeks, not until this night. The rain had swallowed any of his logical thinking. 

“You were crying his name today.” Pierre sat down next to him. “You kept switching between Lando and his name. If you are still having nightmares, you would tell me, non?”

“Pierre. Of course I would. I swear to you I have not thought of it for weeks. Today was simply...it was too much. Lando had gone missing and the rain..it was just too similar. That is why that happened.”

Pierre studied his face for a moment longer, Charles knew he was trying to search for a sign of lies but there would be nothing to find. It was the truth.

“Let us sleep and tomorrow you will sleep into the day and rest.”

There was hardly anything to argue about, not that his friend would allow that anyways. Instead, wordlessly, he got under the covers, watching Pierre blow out candle after candle until only one remained near the bed. Pierre hesitated. 

“Will the darkness be alright?”

Charles nodded his head in agreement. 

The reminder of that night had no guarantee he would be having nightmares again.

Too often he was wrong about others, but he liked to think he was right about himself.

Yet, he had been wrong.

He woke up with a silent scream stuck in his throat, scrambling to sit up as he grasped at the sheets. Pierre jerked awake as he quickly lit a candle, only to find him heaving for a breath and tears running down his cheeks.

He had been able to do nothing.

He was pulled into his arms, crying silently as he forced himself to be quiet, lulled into the slumber once again as Pierre spoke softly to him in French.

He missed his mother. 

-

With an ounce of luck, Charles had managed to escape a fever. Pierre had woken him up to check his temperature and then had insisted he sleep more. He did not remember much of that interaction, much too tired but the next time he woke up it was not Pierre waiting for him.

It was Carlos. The man was sitting in a chair by his side, head in his hands. Charles could not see his face but he could see the tenseness in his shoulders. 

Carlos was evidently upset and it seemed like he had sensed Charles was awake, as he looked up finally.

“Je suis désolé.”

“Whatever for?” Carlos asked, alarmed. 

“For letting Lando get hurt. I know you know I would keep him safe always. I broke that trust and I am truly very sorry for that, Carlos.”

Carlos continued to stare at him as if he had grown another head. “Charlito…Have you lost your mind? What would I blame you for? Mi tesoro has always been clumsy. All of us know this. I would never blame you for something like this. I worried for the both of you.”

If Carlos was not mad then why had he even left Lando’s side. “Then…should you not be by his side?”

“I wanted to make sure you are alright, Charles…” He spoke confused, “You are my closest friend. You were also out in that storm, cariño. Are you alright?”

Charles nodded his head right away. “Yes. Pierre took care of me Carlos, do not worry. How is Lando? Is he awake? Can I see him?”

It was nice to see Carlos smile at the mention of Lando. “He is awake, yes. The doctor just left before I came to see you. Would you like lunch before you see him, or we can see him first if you would like.”

“Lando first.” Lunch could wait, though as he stood up he swayed a little. He did not even remember the last time he had eaten, but he did not want to eat before seeing Lando.

Carlos led the way, walking side by side with him. This walk was a familiar one. Carlos’ childhood bedroom had been the one converted into his and Lando’s room. Charles had spent many years running down these halls and stairs as a child. 

The door was pushed open and Charles was met by the sight of Lando bundled up in his bed with his left ankle raised on a pillow. He did not look hurt beyond that and Charles let himself relax and breathe.

“Charles!”

“You are so lucky Carlos found you first, or you would have been dead,” Charles huffed out, arms crossed.

Lando pouted at him, “I did not mean to fall! The damned ladder was broken and I did not know that. You know I would have never abandoned you like that.”

He had known that, but his mind never believed anything anymore. 

So he sighed, moving closer and squeezed Lando’s outstretched hand, “I am glad you are alright, aside from the ankle…” He pointedly looked over at the bandaged limb.

Lando did not seem too upset about it though, shrugging. “At least I will have Carlos at my every beck and call.” He spoke smugly as Carlos moved further into the room to pull the curtains aside, letting sunlight flood into the room making both of them squint in their eyes. 

Charlotte appeared in the doorway a second later. “Lunch is ready, sirs. Would you prefer for me to bring it upstairs?” She asked, looking over Lando worriedly. 

Charles had known her since he was a child. She had been the one scolding them when they ran on the wet floor and he distinctly remembered her bandaging his face when he had fallen face first in the pathway. 

“Yes. The two of us will have lunch here and Charles? Would you like your lunch here as well?” Carlos asked. 

The last thing he wanted was to interfere in any more of their alone time. He shook his head. “Downstairs is perfectly fine. You two enjoy your lunch. I will leave with Charlotte.” 

She practically beamed at the statement ushering him out. “Are you sure you are alright?” Charlotte asked once they were safely down the hall. 

“I am well. Do not worry,” He insisted as they descended down the stairs. There was quiet chatter heard from the parlor already.

Charlotte nodded but her worry did not disappear. “Alright, dear. But tell me if you do not feel well, I will make you your favorite meal.”

He agreed with ease, never able to turn down Charlotte’s cooking. He had missed it whilst he had been gone.

Though as he neared the kitchen he felt her slowdown, only to glance back and see her studying him. “What is it?

“Uh…your clothing. It’s…are you sure you are fine dressed like that?” She asked carefully.

He glanced down at himself. Sure it had been the pants he had slept in and he had thrown on a random shirt Pierre had given him the same night, but he was clothed and he looked alright. Plus this was only the Sainz, they would not mind. 

Charlotte simply nodded, telling him where everyone was, and said she would be back in a moment.

Maybe he should have taken Charlotte’s comment to heart because as he entered the parlor he was met with Max’s gaze and oh god he had forgotten about the man entirely. The moments from last night came barrelling back into his mind and he had to suppress his panic. 

Suddenly, the loose fitted shirt felt much more airy than earlier. Charles stared at Max who had paused with the tea cup half raised to his mouth. He was dressed impeccably like he should have been. His hands went up instinctively to pretend as if he had been in the middle of buttoning it.  

Well, this was not embarrassing at all. 

“Charles! It’s good to see you up before lunch passes. Come eat.” Blanca called out.

“Hello,” he managed out, Pierre beaming at him from where he was sitting at the little round table next to her.

“Feeling better, calamar? I was going to bring lunch up for you in a moment,” Pierre waved him over. No one seemed to mind his lack of proper clothing, though he doubted anyone here would care, aside from Max.

There was no doubt a red flush spread across his face as he got over to the table, his stomach making noise at the mere sight of food. His embarrassment was forgotten as the sweet taste of berries flooded his mouth when Pierre pushed over the fruit bowl.

“Slow down, you will choke, messy boy,” Blanca teased as she sipped her own tea, Charlotte returning to top off their tea and ask if anyone needed anything more. 

“Mr. Verstappen, how about you?” Charlotte asked, cornering him since he had been the one to stay silent. Charles could not help but glance over as well. 

But Max was already shaking his head, “I am alright with the tea and sandwiches. Food here will be different from Belgium no matter what.” His comment was not harsh, said more like an observation than anything. The man definitely spoke as he wished. It was admirable.

Charlotte took it as a challenge. “Nonsense. Tell me what you prefer for lunch, I will prepare it especially for you.” 

Max once again looked caught off guard by the request. The expression was similar to the day Charles had approached him. As if he was not used to being asked things. He sent a fleeting glance towards Charles in his panic and he found himself nodding quickly, even mouthing that it was alright. 

“I can show… you actually, if you would like. I used to make it with my mother back home.”

Charlotte was delighted at those words. “Your mother must be so pleased with your help! Come come, I would love to add dishes from your home to our daily meals.”

Max laughed softly and Charles' heart skipped a beat as he watched him follow Charlotte out of the parlor.

“Close your mouth, you will catch bugs in it, calamar,” Pierre snipped with a faint smirk across his face and Charles glared at the man.

It was not fair that Max was also skilled in the kitchen. Charles did not have much to offer. Everyone had nailed the idea of his beauty and piano skills being enough. After all, he was only the second son. There wasn’t much a potential spouse would want from him. It still upset him whenever he thought of it. His papa had always encouraged him to learn new things if he wanted, but Lorenzo had always already mastered it. Piano had been the only passion that was truly his. Arthur had always been more skilled in sport and game but with all the practice against him Charles could hold his own and they always had that against Lorenzo. 

Lunch finished quietly, Blanca excused herself and Carlos had come by to inform them he would be going out and that Lando would be checked on by staff but would like a visit now and then. Pierre had informed him that he sent word back home that they would be staying a few days longer since Lando had been hurt. As much as he had wanted his mother it was nice to be out of Lorenzo’s eyes, even only for a moment.

After getting dressed properly, Charles found himself wandering down towards the kitchens. He ignored the knowing look Pierre gave him as he had checked his appearance more than one time. 

To his surprise he saw no sign of Charlotte inside, only Max, who seemed to be tidying up already.  The smell of what had been cooked however was still evident. He let the aroma lure him in further, Max looking up in surprise. “Mr.Leclerc!” He nodded his head in greeting as he wiped his hands clean on a cloth.

Charles offered him a smile. Max had taken off his overcoat, leaving him in his waist coat and shirt, sleeves rolled up carefully revealing strong forearms. He was so doomed. “Did you enjoy your time with Charlotte?” he asked curiously. 

“It was quite nice to cook again, so yes I did indeed. I have not seen my mother in months so it was rather enjoyable.” Yet no mention of what they had cooked.

He crept further into the kitchen, nodding along as he went over to the stove, feeling Max’s eyes on him as he moved. 

“Should you not be resting?” Max questioned, “You had quite a day yesterday.”

Charles couldn’t help but let out a little laugh, nimble fingers wrapping around the lid of the pot, “I am perfectly fine, Mr. Verstappen. Now let me see what you have made.” He did not wait for a reply, lifting up the lid and revealing the dish and the aroma grew stronger. He did not know what it was but it looked delicious, garnished with what looked like chives and olive oil. There was sausages, some sort of leafy green and potatoes underneath it all and Charles' stomach grumbled at the sight of it. Perhaps he was too nauseous to eat properly this morning, but this was immensely appetizing. 

“This looks incredible!” He exclaimed, glancing over at Max, who seemed rather shy from the compliment, hand nervously moving through his hair. “What is it called?”

“ Stamppot ,” Max answered, moving to stand next to him, a bowl in his hand as he scooped the dish into it, making sure not to drop any bit of it. “It is usually enjoyed during the colder days. Potatoes, sausages, kale,” he continued to explain, before offering Charles the bowl, “Taste, tell me your thoughts.”

He eagerly took the bowl and spoon from the man, giving him another smile before scooping up an appropriate bite that had a mix of everything and bringing it to his lips. 

It was as delicious as it looked. There was nothing overpowering in it like some dishes. It was the perfect mix of warm and tasty, the sausage adding a burst of flavor and the potatoes and kale mix a perfect bedding for it. The scallions added a touch of crunch and Charles was pleased. “This is amazing!” He could not help but take another bite, his hunger returning full force.

Max seemed to be pleased with his reaction, the smallest of smiles appearing on his face and Charles’ desperately wanted to see the man smile properly. 

An idea came to mind immediately.

“Here, you must taste it as well.” Charles lifted the spoon to Max’s lips, which had curled upwards in slight surprise.

“No, no, I have eaten enough of it whilst cooking, you enjoy it, please.” The quick refusal was no surprise considering how intent Max constantly was to not be seen by people but Charles was not going to accept that any longer. 

So he did not budge, keeping the spoon raised. “Do you keep fit?” He asked.

Max caught off guard by the question, stared at him cluelessly for a moment, “Excuse me? I–Well yes, I like to think so…”

The answer was awkward and he had fumbled with his words, which had Charles forcing himself not to smile. “Well, I am sure a few extra bites will not hurt then. Open.”

His argument seemed to work because Max was opening his mouth with a sheepish look and accepting the bite of his own dish.

Charles allowed himself to smile, pleased with having convinced Max. “Whilst you are listening, I should insist you do not need to call me Mr. Leclerc. Charles will be just fine and I could call you Max…?” He asked hopefully.

He watched as Max swallowed and his eyes widened a bit. “Mr. Leclerc. That is much too improper. You are in your season, no? That would damage your image in front of the ton,” Max explained gently.

Charles could not help but pout at those words. Of course Max would have figured out it was his season, but Charles had hoped he could have avoided that for a little longer. “You do not need to explain how society works to me, Mr. Verstappen .” He said his name a bit forcefully, which was mean but he could not help it. It was always about society with everyone here. It was exhausting. 

It was clear Max noticed his apprehension with it though. He shot a glance at the kitchen entrance, but he let out a soft breath. “ Charles.”

He could have died happy in that moment alone with his only regrets being he did not get to hear it many more times. Max’s accent added a special something to his name and it had never sounded so pretty.

“Max,” He eagerly acknowledged, the grip on the bowl tightening. 

“ Charles ,” Max breathed out again, almost like a prayer as they stared at each other. 

Charles could hear his own heartbeat in his ears. 

They were entering a bit of a dangerous territory. He knew that.

He enjoyed being foolish at times.

“Mr. Verstappen, I could not find Mr. Leclerc but–”

The sudden voice had them snapping away from each other, wide eyes matching as Charlotte stopped in the entrance of the kitchen, equally surprised, a bowl of the very same dish he was eating on a tray that she carried.

“I see he found his way to you…” She spoke softly. Her tone was almost knowing and he felt his cheeks grow a brighter pink. It had always been hard for him to keep his emotions at bay.

Though… “You sent for me?” Charles suddenly asked, looking back at Max, who was pointedly looking anywhere but at the two people in the room.

Max had sent for him.

“He wanted to see if you’d like to taste the dish first,” Charlotte added softly from her spot. 

Max had wanted him to taste it first.

Max had wanted him.

The feeling in his chest was simply growing every minute. 

“I am glad I found my way over here then, even though you are embarrassed of it.” Charles hugged the bowl closer to his chest, unable to stop himself from smiling.

Max glanced at him, his cheeks were pink to match his own, a smile on his lips as well. “You seemed excited for me to cook, so I thought…it would be nice to have you taste it first.”

Oh , how he was so doomed.

His grin was impossibly large as Max looked away again, fiddling with the buttons of his waist coat. 

Charlotte, bless her, took that moment to exit, mentioning softly how she had to keep an eye on Lando in case he felt too adventurous. 

“You do not need to be so shy, Max,” Charles hummed, testing out the use of the name. He never wanted to go back to Mr. Verstappen.

“Charles,” Max’s tone was light, tangled with a hint of annoyance. “I am not shy and you must be careful. Let us not use our names when we are out, alright? It will hurt your prospects for finding someone.”

I already found someone though , was what he desperately wanted to say, but it was too early for something like that. 

“You sound like Enzo,” he instead said, nose wrinkled in despair, taking another bite of the dish. 

“Your brother?” Max questioned.

Charles nodded, leaning back against the counter, “Yes, my eldest brother, Lord Leclerc.” The name continued to leave his lips in annoyance. “He was rude to you that night. Honestly, he was so impossible, I could not stand being near him, I nearly wanted to walk home rather than share a carriage with him.”

“He was simply thinking of your future prospects, Charles. I did not mind, and you are still speaking to me. There was no harm.”

How impossibly understanding was this man?

“It does not mean I did not mind,” Charles huffed out, taking another bite with a frown etched across his face, but to his surprise Max was laughing.

Max was laughing at him.

His frown only deepened, “How can you be laughing? My brother had no right to judge your character like that!”

“No, no, no, you misunderstand, lieve. It is just–It is hard for me to see you angry as you are enjoying my food. You look rather, how do you say, adorable!” 

Charles blinked. Adorable? Blush spread across his cheeks, his frown melting away as he let the word set in his mind. Adorable?! He had not been called that since he was a child. 

“What?!”

It only made Max laugh more, and though it was music to his ears and Max was even smiling, it was still at the cost of his ego. He was not adorable. 

“T'es une nuisance.” Charles narrowed his eyes at the man, before turning back to the pot and scooping more of the dish into his bowl. “I am going to go enjoy this dish with better company,” He declared, turning on his heel and hurrying out of the kitchen.

“Huh? But what did you say?” Max called out, the loudest Charles had heard him speak, and he let himself smile as he walked away. Max was getting comfortable, finally. 

“ Charles !”

He had to hold back a laugh as he hurried upstairs to where Lando was resting.

“Calamar?” Pierre asked, coming out of their room, looking a little frazzled, “Who is yelling your name?”

Charles had to bite his lip harshly, gesturing over to the railing. 

Pierre peered over the railing where Max had paused, about to yell once more until he met the man’s eyes. His best friend’s eyebrows rose pointedly as Max straightened up.

“I see the two of you got comfortable quickly,” he commented casually, but Charles knew he was being playful.

“I– It was Charles’ idea!” 

An accusation Charles had not seen coming. He gasped, peering down at Max as well, “You are betraying me so early!?” He exclaimed. 

Pierre let out a laugh next to him, “Oh, you thought he would protect you. Finally, it seems like we have someone not as enchanted with you as you thought, cheri.” There was smugness laced into the tone and Charles glared. 

“T'es une nuisance!” Charles found himself yelling again. 

“There it is again! Are you calling me a nuisance?” Max shot back, frowning.

Pierre could not hold back his laugh at Max’s confusion, unable to stifle it as he looked between the two. 

“It is what you are! Since the first day I saw you, you have been a nuisance! Day and night!” Charles called out.

A short silence fell over them as Pierre managed to calm himself down.

“You have been thinking of me day and night?”

Charles paused, eyes growing wide at the confession. He had not meant to let that fact slip so easily. Oh lord. The blush was rising to his cheek at an incredible speed. “You put words in my mouth!” He exclaimed before ducking out of the conversation and slipping into Lando’s bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

He must have looked half crazed, breathing so heavily and clutching a bowl of food against his chest. He glanced to his left where Lando was looking at him with a look of amusement in his eyes, his own bowl, Charles original bowl, of stamppot in a tray in his lap. 

“Day and night you say?” His friend repeated and Charles shot him a glare.

“If you say another word that dish will be all over you.”

Chapter Text

The gardens, Charles had decided, he could appreciate much more in the daylight. The sun was high that morning, not a cloud in sight when he had woken up. The thought of having an early lunch out in the gardens had come to mind right away. Originally Pierre had come to mind for some company outside, but of course he had some sort of business-related meeting to attend to.

“Pierre, you promised you were free this morning,” he huffed while watching his best friend pack his bag for another trip into the city. 

“Calamar, Lord Sainz was kind enough to give me this opportunity. Perhaps ask Max?” There was a mischievous glint to his eyes at the suggestion. “I’m sure he would love to spend time with you.” 

Charles simply glared back at him. “Traitor.” 

Pierre simply laughed, sending him a small wave as he disappeared out the door. 

Carlos was busy attending to Lando, which left Max as his only option in the end. Not that he did not like the idea of that. Pierre knew what he was doing, planting the idea in his mind with that knowing smile of his. 

Some part of him knew it was not the best idea. If caught by Lord and Lady Sainz he would be for sure scolded, but it was only breakfast. It was not as if he was proposing.

As long as none of this got back to Lorenzo he would be fine.

Charlotte had already helped him pack some sandwiches and fruit, so with a linen sheet tucked into the basket along with a book he had been planning on reading he made his way back upstairs to find Max. Charlotte had kindly informed which bedroom he had been sleeping in, Charles choosing to ignore the knowing smile spread across her face.

“Do be careful, dear!” she had added softly, giving him a stern look.

He knocked on the door, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he awaited for the door to open. It was silent for a moment before he heard rustling from the room, the doorknob twisting and revealing Max.

Max who he had apparently woken up. His eyes clearly filled with sleep as he squinted at his figure in the doorway, hair half sticking up and a dark blue robe half haphazardly pulled on. Charles could see the glimpses of pale skin from where it was hastily tied.

Eyes growing wide he quickly darted them back towards Max’s face before he could be caught.

“ Charles ?” Max’s voice was deep from sleep. 

“Did I wake you? My apologies, I should have thought before interrupting your morning.”

Max shook his head, offering him a sleepy smile, corners of his mouth twisting up just slightly, “No, no it’s alright. I needed the wake-up call. Carlos has been saying I cannot just sleep my days away out here to make time go faster.”

It had slipped his mind that Max was not fond of London, as he recalled how distasteful he had been towards it back at the ball. 

“Did you require my presence for something…?” Max asked next, eyes lingering on the basket Charles was still holding onto tightly.

A faint blush spread across his cheeks as he glanced down and then back up at Max. “I–I was hoping you could join me out in the gardens for an early lunch?”he asked. “Though, of course if you would rather rest, I can eat by myself, I do not mind.”

Max was silent for a moment, studying his face as if somehow it would reveal the true intent of his request. “ Charles— ”

He could not help as his shoulders slumped downwards. The sound of reluctance had filled Max’s voice immediately.

“We could—We could have Charlotte chaperone us if that would make you feel better?” Charles quickly offered, not wanting this chance to slip by, “In case…someone passed by?”

He just needed one chance.

One chance to prove himself to Max.

Max was silent for a moment longer before he was nodding his head. “If Charlotte does not mind,” he agreed, “I will meet you down by the gardens once I have freshened up.”

Charles’ heart soared in his chest at the reply. “Yes, yes take your time! I will see you down there, thank you, Max!”

A fond smile had appeared on Max’s face, “No need to thank me, Charles. Anyone would be lucky to have your company for the afternoon.”

Lucky to have your company.

His cheeks must have been aflame as he nodded his head, no words coming to mind as Max murmured excuse me and shut the door. 

There was a new sense of giddiness in his chest as he hurried back towards the kitchen. He felt almost a little childish but he could not help his excitement. It had been so long. 

Hee arrived at the kitchens a little out of breath, Charlotte looking at him with her eyebrows raised. 

“Be careful!” she scolded, “At this rate you will be running straight into a doorway, Charles. Now what has got you running like a crazed man?”

“Will you accompany Max and I for our lunch? He does not want talk of us if we are caught together by someone. Having you there would ensure we are chaperoned! In case someone were to ask what we were doing.” 

Charlotte looked at him skeptically for a moment. 

“Please?” he added at the end. 

It was not hard to convince her though, Charlotte shaking her head and nodding. “Alright, dear. Come along then, we shall wait for Max to arrive together.”

Finally, things seemed to be going his way.  

The wait for Max to arrive was not long, Charlotte gesturing towards the staircase as Max approached them. 

He was dressed more casually for the day, the sleeves of his white shirt had been pulled up to reveal his forearms, a brown waistcoat pulled over it. His hair was free of the usual style, more tousled as if he could not be bothered to fix it after waking up. 

He looked breathtaking. 

“Charlotte,” Max greeted, smiling before turning to Charles once again. “ Mr. Leclerc.”

For once he did not mind the lack of using his given name. There was something in Max’s tone as he spoke, offering him a small bow of his head. 

“ Mr. Verstappen ,” Charles followed, grinning. “Thank you again for accepting my invitation.” 

They began their walk out of the house and out towards the gardens. The sun had thankfully not been hidden by any rogue clouds whilst they had been waiting. It was still high and bright in the sky. 

Max walked beside him whilst Charlotte followed behind with her own basket of things to entertain herself with tucked along one arm. 

Though in his excitement of wanting Max to accompany him and have a lovely breakfast outside, he had forgotten how the gardens made him feel exactly.

There was no rain. There was no sight of it, no gray clouds nor heavy wind. It was simply the sun and the blue sky. 

It would be near impossible for something like that night to happen again. 

Yet, he still found his feet stalling right before the hedged entrance. 

“Charles?” Max questioned, turning back to look at him. 

Charles frowned, grip on the basket tightening as he stared at the hedges that loomed over them all. 

“Are you alright?” Max asked again, stepping closer, hands lifted and hovering unsurely. 

“Dear?” Charlotte also spoke up, joining Max in front of him. “Would you rather have breakfast out here? It is just the same. The weather is everywhere of course.”

This was rather pathetic of him. 

He had planned all this and now he was stuck outside the mere entrance because of a fear of a rain storm. 

It was ridiculous, he felt ridiculous, yet Charlotte’s suggestion was ever so tempting for him. 

“I want—“ he found himself pausing with a grimace, face falling more as he looked at Max with what he could only label as desperation. 

Max smiled at him, it was a sad smile, but there was no judgment in his bright blue eyes.

They end up eating outside of the gardens.

The feeling of failure settled low down in his stomach as he spread out the blanket under a tree on the outskirts of the large garden. 

It was just as pretty out here if he was honest.

Lando had made sure the outside portion looked just as taken care of and designed to match the actual gardens. The hedges were lined with beds of flowers, tulips and marigolds filling the empty space. He wondered how long it had taken Carlos to import all of these flowers, no doubt accepting his husband's every request. 

Back in their bedroom, Charles had noticed there was a wall of books, many of them gardening books and books of different plants and flowers. He had caught Lando reading more than one whilst he had been bed ridden and he had caught Carlos coming home with a new one as well. It was rather sweet. Everyone knew how difficult it must be for Lando to stay in bed unable to go anywhere.

He would have to ask Carlos to help Lando down one morning so they could have breakfast together outside.

He must have been staring at the entrance of the gardens too often.

“You know I actually prefer it out here. There are too many bugs in the gardens, this keeps our food safe,” Max spoke up, undoing the cloth at the top of the basket.

Charles hummed, watching Max lay out their food one by one. Plates of sandwiches, bowls of fruit and the pitcher of juice with two glasses. Everything was made with splendid attention and his hunger returned quickly at the sight of it all. 

“I suppose you have a point,” Charles agreed, tucking into one of the sandwiches. 

They ate silently at first, nothing but the birds chirping and accompanied by Charlotte’s soft humming of some tune he recognized faintly. The silence between them was not awkward. It was peaceful. He did not have the energy to converse on an empty stomach anyways. 

“I recall when we first met you were not so fond of London. Has it grown on you though? I am sure you enjoy your time here at the Sainzes at least?” Charles asked curiously.

Max raised his eyebrows, “Eager to hear me praise your home country, Mr. Leclerc?”

Charles scoffed immediately. “I was not born here, you know? No need to assume so quickly. Monaco is my birthplace, though I was only a year old when we moved to London. My maman was in a foreign country with two boys, so my papa moved us all to England so she could have support and her family near her.”

Arthur had been the only one out of them to be born in London. Lorenzo and him had both been born in Monaco, but his father had realized his wife was beginning to feel lonely, her only companions being those who spoke English and her two little boys. It was not the best life. 

Charles had always thought it had been so romantic for his father to move his whole life so his wife would be happy. It had always left him with butterflies, telling his maman he hoped he married someone just as loving.

“Oh? My apologies. It makes sense though, you and Mr. Gasly speak in French with each other I have noticed.”

He nodded, smiling softly, “My papa did not want us to forget our French so he made sure we kept in touch with his acquaintances who spoke it. Plus Pierre attended his schoolings here as well, so we took to only speaking in French when we were together.”

Charles was sure he could count off the top of his head how many times they had been scolded for whispering in French during lessons. 

“You did not answer me though. Has London appealed to you since that day?”

“London has not…but there are a few things in London that have appealed to me…” Max drawled off, blue eyes darker as they seemed to skim up and down in one quick movement.

“Oh?” Charles asked softly, “Care to share?”

There was a faint smile stretched across the man’s face as he leaned back against the tree. His eyes stared so intently into Charles’ own. This had to be a sign. Had to be a signal to some sort of appeal.

Max’s smile grew the smallest bit, “The desserts for one are very lovely. Of course, catching up with Carlos and meeting his husband finally. Seeing my sister enjoy her time here. I suppose the little things are giving me the most joy.”

Charles attempted to not pout at the replies. They were hardly a surprise. Max seemed to be much more at ease away from the stuffy balls and keeping his appearance. He wondered if it was due to how he was treated with the name Verstappen attached to his face. Of course he would prefer being able to spend time with those he considered family.

“Nothing new has caught your eye…?” Charles could not help but press, ignoring how Charlotte cleared her throat behind them, most likely telling him to be careful. He leaned a little more forward, chin resting in his head as he waited attentively. 

Max’s eyes narrowed the slightest bit at the movement, “I suppose… Mr. Gasly.” Charles could not help letting his face fall at the name. “It’s been lovely getting to know him. He has great insights on business here in London.”

He pulled back with a wrinkled nose. “The two of you need to get more joy in life. It is always about business with him, and now you as well.”

Max laughed softly, blue eyes sparkling. “Is there something specific you want me to say, Mr. Leclerc ?” he asked with amusement.

Except he would not be falling for that. It was no fun giving in like this.

Charles simply huffed, taking an orange from the bowl, dragging his thumb across it to open it but failing, once then twice. Just as he was about to dig his fingertips into it a gentle hand was placed on his own.

“Let me,” Max spoke, taking the orange out of his hands before Charles could massacre it. 

He watched as Max unpeeled the orange with careful hands, as if it was some sort of skill. It was interesting to watch how he did it so delicately, without a mess. 

So often his summers were filled with sticky fingers and the stain of orange juice across tables and shirts. Mainly from Arthur who had no patience whatsoever when it came to peeling anything.

“So you have a hobby in orange peeling?” Charles pushed, watching as Max divided the orange in half and even went as far as breaking the slices, offering him one set in the center of his palm.

With his pout fully set on his face he took the slice, popping it into his mouth and letting the sweet citrus calm his nerves. He could not get so whiny with a man who he did not even know enjoyed his company or not. 

“I simply did not want you staining your shirt, lieve .”

There it was again. That damned word.

“You know it is quite rude to use a foreign language and not explain what it means, Mr. Verstappen.” Nonetheless he took the next offered piece from the man. There was something sweet about him offering each singular slice.

Max only smiled down at the pieces of orange and once again offered no translation. “My mother would always peel oranges for my sister and I where we were young. She said it was a sign of her care for us.” 

He blinked, eyes widening as Max offered another piece, hand pausing in the air. Their eyes were locked on each other again. 

Charles swallowed.

What do you mean by this? 

“That is sweet of her…” he replied slowly, taking the piece of orange eventually. “Are you and your mother close?” 

Max nodded. “We are. We do not see each other as much as I would like but with everything I have to learn about my father’s business, it gets difficult to seek out time. I’m simply lucky my father sent me with Victoria. This is the most time I have been able to spend with her in years.” 

“And Victoria, I have not had a chance to speak with her. I hope she is enjoying London at least.”

Max’s family did not seem to be as much of a sore spot as he had feared. A good way for him to learn more about his life, especially since that’s what Lorenzo disliked so immensely. 

The fond smile on Max’s face only proved him further correct. “Victoria absolutely adores coming abroad. She has been to London a handful of times but she was very young, so of course when my father insisted she go to England for the season she was absolutely delighted,” he murmured, shaking his head. “She was ready to leave the day he suggested the idea and I had to tie up a few loose ends before I could travel, but I am glad I came with her. This way I can be assured she is marrying someone who will treat her the best possible.”

Max seemed almost unreal. Caring, kind, fretted over his sister, soft spoken, ever so cautious. 

Charles needed to know everything about him.

“And what of your family?”

“Ah! Well, there are three of us. One you have met, Lorenzo, the rude man at the ball, and then I am the middle child, and the youngest of us is Arthur, my baby brother. He is yet to marry, three years younger than me. He is an absolute delight. Very mischievous and has grown taller than me to my own misfortune, but he makes up for it by being funny I suppose. Most days my ribs are aching from laughter.”

Max nodded, listening intently it seemed. “Is Arthur eager to marry?”

“Lord, I do not think anyone knows what he wants. I believe right now he wishes to travel the world, but just last year he wanted to raise animals and live on a whole farm, so god knows what he wants, Max. Though he has come to a ball or two and he hasn’t been too put off by it. I am sure someone will catch his eye one day or the other, but I suppose as the youngest he has the opportunity to choose what he wants. Lorenzo and I would make sure he lives a comfortable life.”

Arthur was a mystery since he was young. No one had even thought to mention marriage or courting to him yet. It was for the better until he decided what he wanted for his future at least.

However, an odd look on Max’s face had appeared. He was frowning the smallest bit, lips parted as if he wanted to ask something further. 

“What is it?” Charles asked curiously.

“I—” Max paused once more, “Forgive me if I am overstepping, but that night in the gardens you were yelling for someone, you cried their name with Pierre too. 

Oh . 

Heat rushed to Charles' cheeks at the mention of the incident. He had not even known he had been mumbling that name out in the open in the gardens. Max must have thought he had lost his mind. It was not a surprise for him to have Max ask that question, but he supposed he had not thought about how he would be answering it.

“I—”

The world seemed to still for a moment as he attempted to collect his thoughts. His smile wobbled on his face. 

There weren’t a lot of people he had spoken to about that night. There was barely anyone. Pierre had hardly coaxed it out of him that night. 

The birds had seemingly gone quiet. Traitors. Charles did his best to have his hands not tremble as he stared at Max. 

Was this what hysteria felt like? 

“Mr. Verstappen,” Charlotte’s voice cut through the air, “I do not believe that is an appropriate topic for a brunch.”

Charles took that moment to squeeze his eyes shut, taking a shaky breath in. Charlotte had stopped humming, the birds had gone quiet and the world seemed at a standstill because of him.

“Oh-Oh, yes of course,” Max scrambled and, to Charles’ horror, seemed to be putting the walls right back up. “My apologies, Mr. Leclerc , I overstepped. Perhaps you would like to speak of your hobbies? What did you enjoy studying in your schooling?”

A topic that did not require too much thinking.

Max had put his walls back up, his blue eyes dull once again.

“I enjoyed english…maths not as much…”

Charles had lost track of their time outside as he and Max chatted away. The small bump in the road thankfully did not have Max running off and Charlotte had sent an approving hum occasionally, even adding a comment when Charles would not admit to hiding Carlos’ school work so they could play longer. 

The sun had continued to shine brightly over them, the heat catching up to them as they sprawled across the blanket. Charles had abandoned his waistcoat amongst their conversation long ago, ignoring Charlotte’s disapproved hums. 

They were doing nothing but lying here, admiring the sky up above, watching clouds glide past soundlessly. Their thighs brushed together, elbows knocking into each other, which had him erupting in soft giggles for no reason but it was worth it as Max cracked a smile.

“Your laugh is rather sweet you know,” he murmured, only loud enough for Charles to hear as if it was some sort of secret. 

He felt like he was young again for a moment as they began whispering instead of talking aloud. 

A time where his papa was still alive and there was no looming marriage hanging over his head.

He wondered if he would have ever had a chance to meet Max before then.

“Did you come to London often? Considering you know Carlos so well?” he could not resist asking.

“Often enough, we mainly stayed in touch through our letters however. With my father wanting to teach me of his business we were not able to spend much time together, but Carlos was always eager to speak through his letters. You know, I am sure he has spoken of you in them now that I think of it.”

At that Charles rolled onto his side, leaning up on his elbow as he looked down at Max. “Oh? I hope he wrote good things.” 

The sunlight was hitting Max’s hair beautifully. The dirty blonde hair almost looked like a beautiful gold under the light. 

Charles wanted to run his hands through it, but he held the urge back.

He took in the sight of Max’s face. The slope of his nose, the sharp angles of his face, the spattering of facial hair that urged him to feel against his cheek. 

Max hummed thoughtfully for a moment, “I believe you were the boy he referred to as troublesome and too small,” he teased, “But also his best friend. Carlos spoke fondly of you, Charles, do not worry.”

“He was just as troublesome…” Charles huffed out softly.

Max laughed. It was short, a little breathy and Charles was sure he could listen to it endlessly. He had noticed Max was much more animated once he was relaxed. He would pull faces at comments he found disturbing, rolled his eyes when Charles gushed a little too much about Monaco, and he would talk with his hands when he lost track of how much he was speaking.

The worst part was when Max noticed and attempted to stop himself. He would bite his lip, hands stilling and hovering awkwardly as if wondering if he could continue speaking. 

Charles did his best to urge Max to continue. He wished he could tell him there was no harm in speaking, but he feared making the man close up even further. All he could do was nod encouragingly and ask questions that could hopefully have Max go back into his rambling.

It was Charlotte, however, who had to cut their time short. 

“Gentlemen, I am afraid I do have a dinner to oversee, I think this has been plenty of time, no?”

Dinner was a word he had not expected. He raised himself back up on his elbows, Max also rising, sitting back up. 

“I did not realize we spent so much time out here,” Max murmured, rubbing the back of his neck almost sheepishly. 

At least he had not been alone in the loss of time.

“I’m sorry if I kept you too long, I did just want company for some food….” Charles added as well. 

“I had a lovely afternoon with you, Mr. Leclerc, no need to apologize.” Max smiled gently before beginning to pack up the picnic basket. Most of the food had been consumed aside from little bits and pieces. 

One orange remained.

Before Max could also put it away, Charles snatched it and with careful hands began to unpeel it. He could feel eyes on him as he worked slowly, careful not to spill its sweetness on himself or dig his nails into the fragile skin.

It was funny how similar oranges seemed to be to Max. They both sported an outer layer that Charles desperately wanted to get rid of.  They both urged Charles to dig his nails in, to take them apart and reveal the sweetness they had inside of them, but it was messy that way and the orange was no longer its pure self with aggression. They both needed gentleness. 

Eventually the peel came away and he managed to divide the orange into equal halves. He offered one half to Max, a shy smile on his face. “Since you did for me, I wanted to return the favor.” This is me showing I care for you as well.

I return the affection.

The look had returned. The look of disbelief. The look Max had no business carrying. 

Anyone as kind as Max deserved to be treated just as kind. 

It worried Charles that no one had done so for him.

There was hesitance in his hand as he took the half, but it was taken. Max even smiled down at the half piece of orange in his hand.

Charles' heart skipped a beat.

“Thank you, Charles .”

This time his heart fluttered at the use of his name. Whispered so carefully only for him to hear. 

-

“We shared an orange, Pierre.”

With a dreamy sigh, Charles fell back onto his bed, staring up at the satin canopy that hung over it. His heart felt too large for his ribs. It felt as if it would burst at any moment. 

Pierre snorted from where he sat at the desk by the window. “Who is we , calamar?” he asked, “And why is an orange so important?”

Of course, Pierre would not understand. He had married the man who he had done nothing but argue with since childhood. Some sort of aggressive love. His father had always said some people's love simply blossomed from anger. He had told Charles to watch for why Pierre got angry with Esteban, and he had watched. He had watched Pierre grow angry at Esteban for not sleeping, for forgetting meals, for not tucking his shirt properly, for sleeping with a woman without a care. 

He had watched Pierre’s anger melt into worry and love, though he never became less angry. 

Esteban and Pierre had always been sharp words and witty remarks from young and, somewhere in between, their love had blossomed and Charles now had to complain about them kissing one second and kicking each other under the table the next, which often placed him as a victim of their kicking as well.

He remembered complaining to his father for hours at how obnoxious Pierre and Esteban were and his father had laughed softly. 

“It is their way of love, mon coeur, simply their way.”

He wondered if his father had known what his love was like.

“Calamar?’ Pierre called out again.

“Max. Max and I shared an orange, Pear and it is important because he said that is how his mother showed her care for him and Victoria. He cares for me, Pierre.”

There was a squeak against the floors as Pierre got up and fell down onto the bed next to him. “I did not think you would take my idea so seriously, did you have a nice meal with him?” he asked softly. 

“It was perfect, more than I could have imagined. Charlotte chaperoned us, since Max was not comfortable being alone, but that was alright. Charlotte likes Max so she had no complaint. I think she hopes he teaches me how to cook so she can get me into the kitchen finally.”

“Well it seems like at least one of you cares for your virtue, calamar,” Pierre commented, “but I am glad you had a nice time together.

Virtue. What a silly thing it was. A silly thing that controlled them all so strongly. 

You must think of your virtue? 

What of your virtue, Charles? 

Your second eldest, he does not care for his virtue much, does he?

His virtue had been broken long ago according to most around him, so the usage of that word seemed pointless for him. 

It had been gone the moment he had first fallen in love. 

Sometimes he still caught himself thinking of that man. The man who he had almost given his whole heart to. 

He wondered how far he had run to get away from Charles. Across the ocean or perhaps a mere trip to France to blend away amongst his people. Then again he doubted that man would go anywhere close to Pierre after how Pierre had threatened him.

“Charles?” Pierre questioned again.

Charles blinked back into reality only to find Pierre peering down at him, a frown on his face. 

“You keep disappearing into your head, calamar. Something is bothering you?” 

“Edward. Did he ever tell you where he went?” 

It was almost like he physically felt the mood in the room dip. 

He should have remained quiet. 

Pierre’s face further darkened.  Instead of an answer he was given another question. “Has he written to you?” 

Charles scoffed, “He is the one who left, no? Why would he write?” 

“Then I do not see the reason for even mentioning his name, Charles.”

He knew Pierre was right. There was no reason to bring the man up. 

Charles could not help it at times. He had given so much to Edward and that man had not cared for it even once. 

“Charles. He has not written has he? If he did, I hope you burnt that letter. He has never deserved you and some sort of pathetic letter justifying his foolish actions will never change that.” 

He wrinkled his nose as Pierre began his usual speech. “He has not written to me. I would not ask for his affections even if he had. He has ruined me once before. I will not let myself become a fool again, Pierre.” His tone was defensive even though he knew Pierre did not see him as a fool. He was simply worried. He worried Charles would fall for whatever charm Edward had shown the first time.

Pierre had not met the man more than a handful of times between his travels and visits.. The longest they had all spent time together had been a summer in Monaco, but Pierre had made it abundant he never trusted the man.

Charles wished he had not been so blinded by love. 

He was pulled from his thoughts as Pierre grabbed a hold of his hand. “You were not a fool for following your heart, calamar. Don’t think we thought you a fool.” 

“You may not have, but many did, including Enzo and my maman. I should have known better. I did know better, but I acted foolishly. I’m sure Papa also thought of me as a fool. He would simply never say so.” 

A bitter truth. 

 “Charles.”

“Pierre,” he mimicked in the same tone. 

A soft sight left his friend's lips, his hand was squeezed once before it was dropped. “I cannot keep fighting your mind, but you were not a fool. A fool would be me when I attempted to drive Esteban away time and time again simply because I feared not being able to give him a life he would want.” 

At that, a laugh left Charles. “You were plenty idiotic for that, Pierre. I am sure Esteban would have said yes to your proposal if you only had a shoestring for a ring.” 

“A shoestring!?” Pierre cried out in distaste. “I would never even dream of that.” 

“Hey! It is quite thoughtful. It is still a proposal in the end.” 

“So you say Max will be able to win you over like that?” Pierre questioned.

Charles shrugged helplessly, “If it is all he has then yes.”  

Pierre’s face softened even further. “I never thought I’d see a day where you settle for less, calamar… I think it is time I have a little talk with Max before this goes any further, hm?”

“Oh lord, please do not scare him off.”

“If I scare him off, there is no way he would be able to handle Lorenzo or Arthur,” Pierre huffed with a shake of his head. 

He had not even thought about the prospect of introducing Max to his brothers. It seemed like an impossible task, especially with how Lorenzo was. Introducing him to Arthur would be the smarter idea. Win over the youngest to win over his mother and then with all three of them on board Lorenzo surely would not be able to argue for much. 

“Alright, do not get ahead of yourselves, we do not even know where Max stands in all this.” 

“If he is a smart man, he will move fast.” 

He has not wanted to marry since young. 

Carlos’ words echoed in his mind. There would be little to no possibility that Max would be moving quickly. It was more likely for that man to disappear off to his home country. 

But he had till Victoria married. 

He had time.  

In the end, it was never worth bringing up everything they had dealt with in the past. Charles was not even sure why he had brought up Edward. He much preferred keeping Pierre happy and their banter light. It was all he had when he wanted to think of his childhood once more. 

“Have you written to Esteban?” he asked before Pierre could ask for unwanted letters or what Charles was thinking.

At that Pierre smiled even wider. “Of course. He is sending his best wishes to you. I told him I will arrange his journey here for when your marriage is settled. He is excited but also surprised that I think it will happen. He wants to place a bet.” Pierre rolled his eyes. “My husband is a childish man.” 

“So you did not place a wager?”

“What?! Of course I did, I won’t let him win!”

Charles giggled, shaking his head, “You truly were made for each other.” 

“I think younger Pierre would be having a fit seeing who I have come to marry and younger Charles would be absolutely seething I did not marry you,” Pierre teased. 

He wrinkled his nose, “Oh god, do not remind me of my childish crush. It was simply because you were only a year older and seemed to know so much of the world already. I thought you could teach me it all. Eventually I realized you were only pretending to be that smart.” 

“Grossier!”

“I think younger Esteban would have it worst of all. He would probably find it unbelievable you’ve come to marry him.  He was always so sure you despised every bit of him.” 

Pierre hummed, “I think I tried to make myself hate him, but it never did work. He was too endearing with his long legs and overgrown rat's nest of hair.”

“And now he never lets it free of style,” Charles added with a shake of his head. “You ought to do something about that, it needs to be able to feel the air between its strands.” 

“You say that as if Este has ever listened to us a day in his life.”

“Fair point.” 

“Now will you come have dinner with everyone else or do you want to continue your daydreaming?” Pierre asked as he got up from the bed.

“Perhaps later, I need to finish the letter to maman before I forget.”

Pierre left for dinner soon after, leaving Charles to lay around in his bed and finally finish off the letter for his mother. It had been the usual doting, asking if he is well and eating enough, whether or not Lando was recovering well and when he would be returning home.

The last question was one he did not know how to reply to. 

On one hand he did want to get back to his family, but on the other hand it would be back to being primed and pampered for other men and women to look at him and see if they wanted him. 

It would mean he would have to deal with driving Alonso away once again and Pierre alone would not work forever, especially if Lorenzo wanted it to happen.

The excuse of waiting for Lando to feel better would not help forever. Lando was not a child that needed to be looked after and he was already lucky that Lorenzo had not written asking for him to return home as soon as possible. 

The letter, to his own displeasure, was left unfinished on his desk as he picked up his book and tucked himself into bed,

Time slipped away as he had his nose buried in the book. The sun had set beyond the horizon long ago and both Pierre and Carlos had come by to wish him sweet dreams. 

Eventually, hunger overtook him, the need for a snack of some sort, or sweets–if he could find some, those would do perfectly. 

Carefully he slipped out of his bedroom once he had wrapped himself up in a robe, the door shut as gently as possible behind him and his book tucked against his chest. The halls were barren as suspected and not a soul was present as he managed his way down the steps and down towards the kitchen.

What he had not expected was for someone to already be in there. There was a faint glow emitting from the doorway. Why would Charlotte be up so late?

Except it was not Charlotte. 

To Charles' surprise, he found Max in the kitchen. His back was towards him so he did not know if the Dutch knew of his presence, but he seemed busy hovering over the stove. He found himself frozen in the doorway as he watched the man work. There was a lack of tenseness in his shoulders as he seemed to be in his element. 

Part of him wanted to leave the man to what he was enjoying, but his hunger disagreed immensely with that thought. Not to forget the sweet scent emitting from the dish Max had made. So he gently knocked his hand against the wooden doorframe, watching in slight disappointment as Max’s shoulders immediately rose. 

“It is only me,” he added softly, in hopes that would make some sort of difference. 

Max turned, his face a bit pale but color seemed to slowly be returning as he was greeted with a soft smile. “ Charles ” he breathed out, almost like relief, “I did not hear you come down.”

He shuffled further into the kitchen. “You seemed plenty occupied, plus that had been my goal, I did not want to wake anyone but it seems like you are already awake. Could you not sleep?” he asked, placing his book on the counter. 

“I was a bit restless, yes. I thought cooking would ease my mind.”

“Oh?” he voiced curiously, coming closer, “What did you make?”

The flush to Max’s cheeks only grew darker as he moved back to reveal a plate of what looked like small cakes, drizzled in sugar and honey? “ Poffertjes , it’s a sweeter dish, I was craving something warm so they came to mind. My mother made them for Victoria and I when we were very young. They were our favorite during the cold months.”

There was that tone of fondness again he only heard from Max when he spoke of his sister and mother. 

“May I?” Charles asked, “I came down to find something to eat if I am honest, but if you’d rather keep them for yourself…I would not mind. Arthur hated sharing as a child.”

“No, no! Please eat. I fear I made too many to eat myself, I got carried away and they will not taste as wonderful tomorrow morning either.” Max moved before he could, carefully taking a napkin and wrapping the small treat in it. “So it will not burn your hands…” he explained softly and handed it over, their fingertips brushing together. 

Charles bit into the poffertjes before something embarrassing could leave his mouth at the slight touch.

Max seemed to be watching him expectantly as he ate and once again he had proved his cooking to be a talent of his.

The dough was soft as he bit into it, the honey and sugar adding sweetness to the dish. It was wonderful. He let out a muffled hum between his bites. 

“This is delicious!” he murmured out as he finished the rest of it. 

The pleased expression on Max’s face never disappeared, “I’m glad.” The plate was wordlessly moved closer towards him as Max took his own piece.

It was a quiet few minutes as they both enjoyed the late night meal. Unable to help himself as he drizzled more honey across the top of them, abandoning the napkins as their fingers grew sticky from the sweet syrup. They did not stop until the plate was empty, Charles grasping at empty space without realizing. 

They erupted into giggles, hushing each other as they got too loud.

“Another batch?” Max questioned, eyeing the bowl he had yet to clear, and everything he had used remained out on the counter space as well.

“Will you teach me?” Charles suddenly, moving over to the stove. 

There was a clear surprise stretched across Max’s face. “You would like to learn?”

“Of course! I haven’t cooked much but I would like to learn, especially if it's something you enjoy. I would like to share it with my own family!”

His mother would surely laugh from shock if she found him in the kitchen and Lorenzo would for sure ask if he is ill or not. 

“Your family? And what will Lord Lerlerc think when you are sharing Dutch recipes with your family, hm?” Max asked, eyebrows raised curiously, “Surely he will grow suspicious?”

“You greatly overestimated my brother's smarts, Max. I am sure I will survive, now show me, quickly, before the sun begins to rise.”

Quickly they got to work, Max explaining his measurements and everything that would go into the batter. It did not seem too difficult until they began pouring it into the pan.

“Never add too much or they will stretch too much and not rise properly.” Max explained as he worked, using a small ladle to pour the batter onto the pan with practiced ease. 

Though when it was his turn, the difficulty seemed to ramp up quickly. He blinked down at the man as the small circle had attempted to grow into something that did not resemble a circular form at all. 

“I–” He cut himself off glaring down at the pan, “Did I add too much?” he questioned looking back at Max, but his glare quickly faded into confusion.

Max had not even been looking down at the pan, instead staring at him, his bottom lip sucked into his mouth, without a doubt being torn by his teeth. 

“What is it?” he forced out, free hand coming up to wipe at his cheeks and forehead, wondering if he had gotten something on his face.

That seemed to snap Max out of his haze, blue eyes flickering back down towards the pan before widening. “ Charles, ” he tsked lightly, his voice light though as he scraped off the batter with a shake of his head.

“You must have a steady hand, here, try again.” The bowl was shoved towards him again.

“You know if you keep a watch on the bowl and not my face, that would not have happened,” Charles quipped, nose wrinkled as he grabbed the ladle, adding only as much as Max had, but before he could pour it a warm hand covered his own and began to lead their way to the pan.

Charles felt himself tense, hand freezing underneath Max’s, but as he dared to glance at the man next to him he was not even looking at him. Fingers pressed gently into his hand, not held too tightly against the ladle. The touch was almost feather-like. 

“Eyes on the pan, lieve ,” Max whispered, “You must pour slowly and close to the pan.” 

All Charles could feel was how Max’s hand engulfed his own. He blinked a few times, attempting to concentrate on the motions Max was showing, not once letting go of his hand as he poured the batter four times in the pan and it did not get muddled or outlandishly large. 

It was perfect.

Perfect.

Like his hand felt around his. 

“See? It is not hard.”

He had to hold back a protest as Max let go of his hand, the ladle gently pulled from under his fingers.

Every touch left by Max felt like a burn.

Charles let out a scoff, “Says the man making these for years. I think I may be better at eating them than making them…” he murmured,

At that Max laughed, “Well, then I will be sure to leave enough here for you to live off when I return home.”

Home.

That was right. Max had a home that was not here. Max did not plan on staying past his sister's marriage most likely. 

Somehow, his mind skipped over that detail every time. 

His heart never learnt.

He pushed the thought aside, letting Max take over the cooking, Charles decided he was happier pouring honey and sugar across the poffertjes and sneaking bites here and there.  

In the end they were left with a bigger pile then Max had started with and did not even manage to make a dent in them.

“Perhaps Victoria will enjoy the extras?’

“I think she will most likely have a fit over that we made them without her,” Max stated. “She’ll have my head, but perhaps she would enjoy them nonetheless. I will put them in a bowl and inform her in the morning.”

Max moved around the Sainzes kitchen as if it was where he had always lived. Charles let the man work as he leaned against the table. The kitchen seemed to be Max’s equivalent to how Charles was with his piano. Both things they enjoyed individually and brought them a sense of peace.

Without fail, Max’s company always felt like more than enough. He brought a calming presence with him, the whole kitchen itself felt warm as if it was a cozy winter night rather than a cooled night at the start of summer. 

Charles was sure he could spend the rest of his night here.

It was ever so tempting. 

“Have you never thought of becoming a professional cook?” Charles could not help but ask. Max seemed so passionate about food, or at least enjoyed cooking enough.

“My father would die at the sight of that,” Max muttered as he began cleaning the empty batter bowl out.  “It is either run the family business or forget I have a family.”

Charles' eyes widened at the harsh words. His father truly was as cruel as everyone had said. He would leave his son behind just like that if he failed to listen?

“I am sorry…you do not deserve to be forced to make a living like that…”

“It is not forced. I am willing. Someone must keep our family's business afloat and if my step-siblings all marry well and have heirs then I will be able to pass the business onto them. It is simply how life works at times.”

It is still not fair.

The words felt childish in his mind. Max spoke with such determination and confidence. Talking of what was fair and what was not did not seem like the right statement. 

“But forget this sort of talk. Your book? I have seen you carry it around, is it a new read?” Max asked, gesturing towards the counter.

Charles had almost forgotten he had even brought it with him. The possibility of company in the middle of the night had never occurred to him.

“Oh no...not new at all.” Charles brought the book back into his hands, fingertips tracing the binding with a sad smile, “It was the last thing my papa gifted to me before the illness became too much. I have read it about a million times now. I do not part with it. It was in the bag I brought with me on the day of the ball. A few things I do not like to be apart from for too long. It…It may seem childish but it is a sense of comfort. It feels as if he is still with me.”

“It is not childish to have things like that, Charles,” Max began, a gentle smile on his face, “I am the same. I carry my mothers necklace with me wherever I go.” From beneath his shirt Max pulled out a gold chain and a gold pendant dangled from it. It looked intricate, fine detailing engraved into it. 

Charles moved closer, reaching out silently and when Max nodded, the pendent fell down against his fingers. There were flowers and stems engraved into it, faint sightings of colors painted onto it. It was clear it was an old pendant. A family heirloom perhaps. “It’s beautiful, I had not noticed it before.”

“I do not wear it visibly most often. It is not something for others to see, more to keep her close when I am far,” Max explained softly.

It was when Charles glanced up that he noticed how close they were. Max was speaking inches away from his face, his breath brushing across his cheek as Charles let the necklace fall out of his grasp. 

“Thank you for trusting me with something so important to you…” he whispered, swallowing the lump in his throat. 

They were so close.

Painfully close. 

Max nodded faintly, a tongue peeking out to lick at his lips and Charles felt his heart stutter. He pulled back before he could become any more foolish. 

“And the book? May I know which it is?”

Quickly he nodded, twisting the book so the cover faced him. “Jane Austin, Emma ,” he managed.

“Ah, I am not familiar. I take it that it is a good read if you keep reading?”

“Oh, it is perfect, Max, you do not even know,” Charles gushed, “You must read it, I believe Carlos has a copy in the library, I urged him to buy it when I first got it and he agreed it was fantastic.”

As he rambled, he failed to notice the soft smile that had crept onto Max’s face as he held onto his every word. 

It got more difficult to part ways with the Dutch every time.

The return to his bedroom was solemn, though he was unable to get rid of the smile dancing at his lips. His cheeks burned as he ran over every moment he had shared with Max.

 Dear god his heart was always so quick to lose its control. 

They had agreed they could not keep avoiding sleep and hide out in the kitchen until the morning. 

“Goodnight, Charles,” Max had murmured at the top of his stairs. Charles had done his best not to reach out for him right then.

“Goodnight, cheri .” The word had left his lips without much of a thought. If Max dared to use some sort of Dutch word, why not use French.

He had watched Max’s eyes widen for a moment before he had hurried down the hall to his own bedroom.

He shut the door behind in a sort of daze. Taking a deep breath as he leaned back against the wooden frame. He had almost been ready to lose himself in his thoughts until his eyes spotted something near his bed.

Charles moved across the room in one motion, kneeling down as he spotted some sort of dark fabric half under the bed. Curiously he pulled it up only for it to be a dark coloured coat.

A coat that pulled him back into the night in the maze.

Max’s coat, he realized quickly, from that awful night. It had slipped his mind completely to return it and it must have fallen underneath the bed. 

His cheeks reddened at the memory of Max’s sweet gesture. How carefully he had wrapped his coat around his shoulders to help keep the cold out. He could almost feel the same warmth in that moment. 

A small smile spread across his face as he held the coat in his hands, hugging it to his chest for a mere moment. 

Max had not asked for it back…had not even said a word when Charles had brought it upstairs with him that night. Surely that meant the man did not miss it. Of course if Max asked for it he could return it, but for now it could not hurt to keep it. He would inform Max about his jacket before he left though, he couldn’t just steal a whole coat forever. 

At least not without informing him in some way. 

Humming, he fell back down on his bed, coat left pressed against his chest. He stretched his hands out in front of him. The faint glow of the oil lamp had left just enough light for him to see them. 

His hands looked no different than from this morning, yet they tingled with every movement. Even his body was not eager to forget Max’s touch.

Eventually he drifted off tangled in his sheets, the coat now pressed between his pillows for safe keeping.

His dreams filled with hands holding his own and bright blue eyes twinkling in the sunlight.

Chapter Text

Victoria Verstappen had been a bit of a mystery for Charles. He had heard everyone mention her but he had yet to see speak with her. When he had spoken with Max the other evening it had only left him further curious about her.

It turned out Carlos had discovered that Max and his sister had been staying alone in one of their father’s old properties. He had immediately insisted that the two come stay with their family, so they would have company and help with anything they needed. According to Carlos, Max had put up his usual fight, but then Victoria had said it would be nice to have someone help her with getting ready for the balls and Max had immediately agreed.

It sort of reminded him of how Lorenzo was always weak to his word when they had been younger. 

There weren’t a lot of them in the house so Charles had to assume the young lady out in the gardens was Victoria Verstappen.

Before he could even think of how to approach, there was a weight slipping across his shoulders. “Lord Leclerc would scold you for staring,” Carlos informed him.

Charles rolled his eyes, “Are you going to write to him about my dress sense as well?” He huffed.

“Mother may do it before I have the chance…”

God, he hoped not. It would not take much for Lorenzo to take him away from here, especially if he was not being proper.

“Perhaps I will ask Lando if I can make a bouquet from the gardens to give to her…” Charles wondered aloud, eyes skimming across the gardens. He had not been back in there since his morning with Max and it had been alright then. The distractions had helped him not linger on the incident. 

However, it still brought an unease to his heart as he stared at the looming hedges. Victoria sat at the entrance of it, stitching something Charles could not make out from this distance. 

“Bribing my mother, hm Charlito? I see nothing has changed,” Carlos teased, squeezing his shoulder before pulling away, “I am going into town with Pierre. Care to join us, or do you intend on eventually accompanying Ms. Verstappen.”

Charles turned, leaning against the railing, “Bring me back something? Pierre will know my favorites from the bakery.”

Carlos shook his head, amused clearly, “You and Lando are much too alike at times. Please check on him! We will be back in the evening.” With that, his childhood friend disappeared back inside, the white curtains billowing as a gust of wind passed through the gardens. 

A small yelp was also carried in the air as Charles turned in time to see Victoria had gotten up, only to be chasing down her hat. With instinct he went to move to help her, but almost out of nowhere Max seemed to have made his entrance, coming out of one of the garden entrances to catch the hat before it drifted off too far. Of course, Victoria would not be out here alone in an unknown home. 

Max looked more relaxed than ever out there with his sister, no strangers he had to impress or be kind to. It was simply him and his sister, who he seemed fond of as he kept the hat out of her reach before a elbow covered by silk fabric came to jab him in the ribs, Victoria regaining a hold on her hat again. 

It reminded him of the Max he had had brunch with such a different man from the first ball.

“Max,” She huffed, hugging the hat close to her chest, away from Max’s hands. She shared the same dirty blond hair as her brother, much more noticeable as the wind swept by again. 

They slipped into their Dutch naturally and Charles knew he was overstepping. It was rude to eavesdrop and even he was not that horrid to do so. With one final glance he slipped back inside, wondering if Lando would agree for him to pick out some flowers.

What he missed was the glance Max had thrown towards where he had been standing, Victoria giggling at her brother's antics. 

“He is rather pretty, you know…” 

-

Charles, however, did not make it to Lando’s bedroom. It had been ages since he had last seen most of the Sainz estate or been given an opportunity to stay for so long, so he had slowly been regaining his footing in the household. A lot of the rooms remained the same as they did from childhood. Some were redecorated and the playroom that Charles had spent many days in was no longer as such, since all the Sainz children had grown up. It was an open room with large windows looking into the gardens. He recalled stretching up on tiptoes to gain a look out of it when he had been a child. Carlos often teased him for it, he had been too tall.

Still he found himself in that very room for a different reason. No longer for Charles to play with toy cars, but instead it was where the piano resided in the home. 

The piano had always been a favorite instrument for him, something he had picked up quickly and beautifully, learning song after song as he glided his fingers across the white keys. He knew Blanca still played, her sheet music sitting atop of it. 

Charles was not one to be able to resist a moment to play a piece.

So, he sat down onto the bench, fingers trailing across the keys as his eyes scanned over the sheets already displayed. It was a piece he recognized and played often himself. How perfect.

It took a few moments to get used to the keys. If he was honest with himself it had been awhile since he had touched a piano. With the grief of losing his father he had not felt the same passion for it. His father had always enjoyed listening and it had felt wrong to play music without him there, Which he knew his father would have been very against. He had been passionate for all his children to do what they loved no matter what. His father would have preferred for him to play, he knew that, but his father had not been the one to be left behind. It had been Charles, his brothers and his mother. His father had insisted on the same before as well. That Charles should play because it was what he would have wanted, but his father was not Jules . No one could have known what he wanted. Maybe Lorenzo at a time, but his brother had not been well those months. Charles had not wanted to risk it at all, so he had kept his tongue and told his father he did not want to play. 

It must have taken him a year to play again after that day, and now it had been a year and more since his father had passed. 

Charles took a deep breath, eyes flickering across the keys as he balanced his fingers on where to start. Slowly, he pressed the first keys and the world in fact did not crumble around him. No one shouted at him to stop and there were no cracks in the keys. 

It was simply him and the music.

It was a surprise with how naturally playing still came to him. There were a few mistakes on some parts, but after a year that was no surprise. 

Music slowly filled the room, Charles fingers continuing to glide across the piano and his heart almost felt lighter the longer he played. 

His father would have wanted this.

Jules, too.

He hoped the both of them could forgive him for not playing for so long. 

Charles lost himself in the movements, humming softly alongside the melody. He was so lost he did not even notice the fact that he had gained a one-person audience.

He could not help but flinch slightly, missing a key, which soured the whole piece as he caught movement in the corner of his eyes. His hands flew off the keys as his eyes widened, only to be met with an equally wide-eyed Max.

“Max! You could announce your arrival, you know!” Charles managed out, willing himself to relax a little.

Max’s expression was immediately guilty, “I’m sorry! I didn't mean to startle you, I did not want to interrupt your playing.” He even took a step back, as if ready to leave if Charles would ask him to.

Forever kind Max. Charles shook his head. “I appreciate the thought. I was simply playing, not like you would be interrupting a recital.”  If he had learnt anything from the past few days, Max needed reassurance. The man found himself too much, too often. It was like he tried his best to take up as little space as possible in the room and Charles could not fathom why he would do so. 

Perhaps Charles had always been doted on so he had gotten used to having all this attention. Both his brothers often needed him for different reasons, and when Lorenzo was not home he had to pick up the duty as the eldest, and his father often spoke to him about the troubles he had at times. 

Charles had always been at the center of it all, but Max seemed like he was not even used to an occasional question. 

There was a few seconds of silence until Max nodded slowly, a small smile on his face. “You play beautifully, Charles. ” He looked less likely to run away as well.

Hearing his name from Max never got any less exciting. Heat spread across his cheeks nonetheless. How long had Max even been listening to him? “Ah, thank you. I am a little out of practice, so it was not my best,” he explained, glancing back at the piano, “I have not played in over a year.”

“I could not have guessed,” Max spoke softly, stepping closer to the piano, fingertips brushing across the top of it. “Did you grow up learning?”

Charles nodded, fingertips skimming the keys once more. “I–My father always said follow your passions and I had always enjoyed music more than dancing, so my father organized an instructor to help me when I was young and I have been playing ever since.”

Max hummed lowly and Charles could not help but observe his face. He seemed lost in thought as he stared down at the piano.

There was a freckle on his lip.

Charles could not help but stare a little too long. He wondered if anyone else had noticed. 

“I never offered my condolences,” Max spoke suddenly, but his voice was almost a whisper. 

He could not help but frown as Max met his own eyes.

“For your father— I may not have known you and your family when he passed but I am sorry for your loss. Losing a father is never easy.”

Charles sighed softly, breaking their gaze to look out the window on his left side. “Thank you. There was no need for you to do so, but thank you. I appreciate your kind words. I actually do think my father would have enjoyed your company. He was always one for people who did not enjoy this sort of life.”

“I’m happy you think so. I would have loved to meet him, especially considering how kind you are.”

He blinked, turning back to Max who continued to stand next to the piano. “Kind? I rarely get that. Usually it is you are much too loud, Charles , or you must act your age, Charles or why are you acting out like this, Charles? ” He could not help mimicking his brother’s tone with annoyance. 

Sure he was kind, but it was not what people focused on. Outwardly it was his beauty, or his money, or how he was the Leclerc ready to be married off. His kindness had been stepped on much too many times and at times he wished he was more vicious. He wished he could show the anger buzzing under his skin instead of smiling politely when someone took note of the color of his eyes or when someone's hand lingered too long on his waist.

Kindness was appreciated by all but rarely got anyone anywhere.

Max’s face had visibly fallen as well. “Did I say something wrong?” he asked.

Perhaps Max truly was the one too kind for him .

Charles didn’t reply, instead shuffling to one side of the bench and patted the empty space next to him. “Come sit.” 

The other man showed less hesitance this time as he sat down next to Charles without a worried look thrown towards the door.

Perhaps because the sadness had reached Charles’ eyes again.

“Do you play an instrument?” Charles asked.

Max shook his head, eyes glued to the piano keys. “My father never saw the use of me learning anything aside from the family business. I’m the eldest, made to carry on the family name and make sure it has a future. Victoria learnt but never enjoyed it. She could never sit still as a child so my mother gave up on it–or well, that’s what I’m told. 

Like Lorenzo.

Charles hummed, nodding, watching as Max’s fingers hovered over the keys. “My step-siblings I’m sure are more well versed in the arts of the world.”

There it was. The topic that Charles had thought would be touched for some time, but Max was being open about it. Open about his family. That had to mean something. They had not gotten past his mother and Victoria the previous time, not that Charles wanted to pry.

“I assume they are all younger than you? Hence you are still first in line for the family name?” Charles had no idea if Max wanted to talk about this but he had opened the floor to it and Charles was taking the chance, especially after Lorenzo had so clearly disapproved of Max’s father’s affairs.

“Yes. They’re all too young and if I am honest they will most likely get their chances to live how they want. My father from the beginning wanted this from me, so I was never given the chance of any other options.” Max spoke softly, never looking up as if the piano was the one asking the questions. “I do not hate him for it. I know family business  must live on and I was simply the one given that task.”

Well, I despise him, Charles so desperately wanted to tell him but he held his tongue. No matter how ugly of a man one's father could be, it was beyond disrespectful to speak ill of them. “You are kind for letting your siblings have the chance to live past the family name, Max. I don’t think I could have done that. I am selfish like that I feel,” Charles murmured, ghosting his own fingertips across the keys. “I could not imagine living like someone I am not, but then again I have never known anything else. Lorenzo carried that burden for me and Arthur.”

Perhaps he could see how this was not all his brother's fault. He was only attempting to do what was right, what their father would have done.

Their pinkies brushed against each other as their hands met in the middle of the piano, an invisible melody playing between them. It was unheard but loud in Charles' mind. Their hands froze, touching ever so slightly. Outside the sun seemed to glow even brighter.

“Selfishness is not always a terrible thing, Charles,” Max spoke up, “It is sometimes the strongest act a person can commit to.”

Strong. A word not often used for him. 

Their heads moved together, green locking with ocean blue. Just like the water in Monaco. 

He wished to show Max his other home one day. If it was possible. Even just as friends. He felt Max would enjoy Monaco. A society less intertwined with all the rules and hustle bustle of England.

There was something unreadable in Max’s eyes as they took in each other. The freckle on his top lip was almost like a taunt, crying out Charles name. 

Instead, he pulled his hand away from the piano and gently rested it against Max’s cheek. It was a light touch, fingertips grazing across the unshaven scruff. He wondered if Max shaved back home in Belgium or this was how he let it be. It was endearing, almost examining the patchy hair littered across his jaw. Max did not flinch from his touch as he had feared. He was calm under his touch, only curious as he looked back at Charles.

“Did you know you have a freckle–?” Charles whispered, daring to brush his thumb against the top of his lip for a quick moment, “--here.”

Something uncertain flashed across Max’s eyes. “I have been told, yes.”

They were both whispering despite it only being them. As if the paintings were listening in on them and would speak their movements into the air if given the chance.

The moment felt like glass, one wrong move and it could shatter and Charles would never be given the chance to hold Max like this ever again.

Please say it. Please. 

Charles almost felt desperate enough to ask himself, but he had already placed the first move, could he keep going? It would be against everything he had been told. To not be hasty, to not be desperate. He was not desperate, but Max made him feel close to it. He wanted to know every single thing about the man sitting in front of him. He wanted to leave this room feeling raw from how much they know of each other.

He would let Max pull him apart limb by limb if he wished. 

“ Charles… ” Max whispered, hands moving away from the piano to hover in the air unsurely, hesitating.

Please.

“ Please .” 

The word escaped him this time, unable to hold back when Max spoke his name. 

Charles was afraid he would die if he had to wait a moment longer.

He sent a fleeting glance to the door behind Max, opened only a crack, but he was dragged away from that moment of worry by the press of Max’s lips against his own.

It was almost surprisingly enough for him to forget he had to kiss back, and kiss back he did. 

A thrill of happiness sprang through him as he pressed into the kiss, somehow still soft and unhurried despite how he felt. Max’s hands were gentle where they pressed into his waist, firm as he felt fingertips press into the light linen of his shirt. His own hand tightened, pressing into Max’s face, desperate to hold on.

The kiss was nothing less than he expected. Max’s lips were soft against his, he tasted of sugar and tea. He tasted of Max and Charles wanted more. 

His free hand moved to rest on Max’s shoulder, digging his fingers into the many layers of his attire. He wanted it gone but the best he could do was slip his fingers beneath the waistcoat band on his shoulder.

A small desperate sound escaped his lips as Max kissed him with newfound energy, hands pulling him closer as their legs knocked together in a clumsy mess. 

Charles wondered if it would be too much to ask Max to press him against the piano.

Instead he pressed closer, half attempting to climb into his lap before suddenly there was chatter outside the window. The recognizable voices of Lord and Lady Sainz. Max was flying out of his arms in seconds, Charles fingers slipping out from under the waistcoat as the other man stood up, brushing out the wrinkles in his clothing.

“They would not be able to see us, you know?” Charles spoke, unable to hide the disappointment in his tone as he glanced behind himself. The pathways were far from the windows and unless Lord and Lady Sainz specifically were looking for them they would not even be glancing towards the room. 

Max, however, looked stricken as Charles looked back at him. It was a familiar look, one that made Charles’ own panic surge in his stomach. 

“Please do not say this was a mistake.”

A look of pain spread across Max’s face at the words. “It–,” but the man paused, tongue peeking out to lick at his lips nervously. “It– This can not happen again. I am sorry, Charles, it is for the better.”

He did not even wait for a reply, Charles forced to watch him give a weak smile and nod before hurrying out of the room. 

It can not happen again.

Charles had never felt more foolish in his life. He had been too hasty. He had been too desperate. Again.

It was the repeat of an endless cycle. Perhaps Lorenzo was right to try and tie him down.

His gaze flickered to the piano before down at himself. The indents from Max’s hands had caused his shirt to press into him, his waist small under his touch.

Charles never did learn.

-

Of course, it did not take long for Pierre to figure out something had happened, though Charles had not been hiding that fact either. He had tucked himself into a window’s alcove of their bedroom, staring outside as he watched the gardeners care for the plants and flowers. Carlos had returned a few moments ago and was foreseeing it all at Lando’s insistence so that no plant was deprived of anything whilst he was bedridden.

Charles had watched Pierre arrive with Carlos but he had headed inside right away, a small bag in hand, and Charles recalled his request for pastries, which meant it would not be long—

At his single thought there was a gentle knocking at the door and he glanced over to see Pierre slipping in. “You requested pastries, your highness.”

Charles, for a moment, did not speak, staring at the bag and then back at Pierre, whose face was slowly melting into realization that something had gone wrong.

At times, he despised the fact that Pierre knew him so well.

“Calamar?” Pierre questioned softly, moving forward with slow steps as if Charles was a frightened animal.

He tore his eyes away from Pierre, reaching for the bag once he was close enough, “Do you think I am desperate, Pear?” he asked mindlessly, tearing open the top of his bag. Inside, it was filled to the brim with jam-filled pastries. 

Pierre was unmoving in front of him, but Charles could feel his gaze on him. It was digging into his head as Charles picked out a pastry, sugar sticking to his fingertips as he placed the bag aside. 

“Did someone call you that?” Pierre asked, and he could hear the frown on his face. 

No one had called him that, but it was not like it was not the truth. He was sure most saw him as such. “Non, outside of myself, and maybe Lord Perez thought that.”

Pierre blinked in confusion. “Lord Perez…?” He questioned, “I don’t— I do not recall the name? Was he here whilst we were out?” 

Charles shook his head, stomach tossing uncomfortable as he recalled the incident a few weeks prior. He had never told Pierre, and no one in his family had spoken of it since. He had only assumed Lorenzo and his mother had taken care of the incident and did not want to remind him of it again. 

“There…He was at a ball the night before you came…” Charles explained slowly, his appetite disappearing as he gathered his words. “He—He um…he tried to get me alone, away from the ball, whilst we were there. Lorenzo had introduced us so I did—I did not think he had ill intent, so I entertained him with conversation.” 

Pierre was immediately moving, the pastry removed from his hand and placed back in the bag. “Charles.”  He spoke his name with a slight alarm, clutching their clean hands together.

He shook his head, “I did not go. He didn’t force me to go either, I immediately stepped away and spoke loud enough to get the attention on us. He—He called me adventurous…Pierre. I do not—I do not know how long he has been in England. He had a wife and children in his home country.” His voice was wavering the more he spoke, “He has children and he wanted to marry me, to keep as his kept man or something dreadful. He wanted a toy and he had heard I was adventurous.” 

Adventurous.

To anyone else that would be seen as a compliment. Someone who did not shy away from a journey or challenge in front of them. Arthur was adventurous, he wanted to travel across the world and do all sorts of things that Charles did not even know how he would come across, but that was how Arthur had always been.

But the way Perez had uttered the word adventurous, it was clear he had meant it in a demeaning way. He had thought Charles was a fun challenge to figure out. That Charles would allow him to figure him out, allow him to do as he pleased.

“Why did you not tell me?” Pierre’s voice was soft but demanding, it was clear there was anger in his voice. They had promised to protect each other as children and Charles had failed to tell him about this incident. 

Some part of him had feared disappointing Pierre again. He could not think about reliving a past misery and making Pierre go through it with him, not when he was married and would soon have a family. Esteban did not deserve to be linked to some scandal like this. “I did not want you to worry, and Lorenzo had been there. He promised to make this right and I trust him, maman would also make sure of it.”

Pierre was frowning but nodded his head nonetheless, squeezing his hand firmly. “Charles, you are not desperate. I fear you are still trying to mend your broken heart. The world has never been kind to you, since we have both been young. From Jules, to your papa, and that sorry excuse of a man Edward, the world has never treated you and your family kindly. It pains me to see it happen, you do not deserve to suffer like this.”

Charles had no tears left to cry as he listened to his dearest friend. He let himself fall back against the wall behind him, head tipped back as he stared up at the ceiling, his eyes following intricate carvings along the edges. His hand clutched Pierre’s tightly, leaving their hands pale from the pressure. 

He feared being alone. 

“Calamar…” Pierre’s voice broke through again, “Have you eaten today? If you haven't, I do not think something sweet is right. Shall I get us some dinner? I am sure Carlos will not mind if we eat upstairs, or we can eat with Lando if you’d prefer his company. We can invite Max, if you would like that?”

The last name was mentioned tentatively and Charles found himself shaking his head. “Here is fine. Lando needs to rest more.” A lame excuse, but he did not have the energy to be around everyone. Pierre was company enough for him.

Pierre nodded, hand slipping away from his own. He watched quietly as his friend made it across the room and his mouth was opening without much thought.

“I kissed him.”

Pierre froze by the doorway, back still turned and hand at the doorknob. 

Charles let his head fall back against the wall again, “He said it can not happen again. I think I am too desperate , Pierre. I cannot even control myself. How foolish that was. I kissed him in the damned piano room and he left me there. I only wish he had not kissed me back, maybe then I would not still have hope.”

It was obvious who he was speaking of. Pierre knew well enough who it would be. 

“It is crazy how I still expect him to back off on his word and ask me to run off with him. I do not even want to run, I want to ask Enzo to let me marry him if he also wishes for it. I would fight Enzo on every point he had against Max. Though I’m tired of not being fought for.” 

Slowly he tucked his legs up against his chest, pulling himself into a tight ball. “Jules would have been able to make Enzo understand…” The words were nearly whispered in the silent room. Outside, the sun dipped past the horizon. Somewhere in the house he could hear the faint sounds of people. 

Pierre left the room silently a moment later, the door shutting behind him with a click. He did not blame him for his lack of words. Charles had said too much. 

He felt too much. 

Pierre returned shortly with their dinners, bringing Carlos along with him. It didn’t seem like Pierre had spilled the news, but Carlos did seem a little nervous around him for a reason unknown. Charles offered him a brief smile before tucking into their dinner. He tried not to focus on how his was a light soup with bread. Something that would not be too heavy for him. The other two had much more complicated dinners with their courses. 

There was idle chatter between them, Charles was happy to listen, offering a hum occasionally to show he was paying attention. 

“Charles, actually I was wondering if you would like to go riding tomorrow? Pierre and I discussed it earlier. It’s been quite awhile, no?”

It had been so long, Charles could not even recall when they had last done so. There was a time he would have shaken his head and not considered riding at all, but he did not want to burden himself against it again. 

A bit of excitement sparked up as he nodded his head, “That sounds like a wonderful idea actually.”

-

They decided on going early in the afternoon, the sun still high up in the sky but enough time to get everyone out of their beds and time for breakfast. 

Charles had already been outside waiting for the others when Carlos appeared with Lando, having helped him out of their bedroom and into the fresh air now that he had a few days to heal. He had started to look a bit pale and small hidden away in his bed for so long. At least he seemed to be in high spirits despite not being able to ride as Carlos carried him onto the outside landing and sat him down in one of the chairs. 

“Are you sure you’ll be okay here alone?” Carlos asked, a small frown on his face as he looked down at his husband.

Lando, however, waved him away. “Who said I will be alone? Victoria’s going to keep me company,” he announced proudly.

Oh , the other Verstappen sibling was finally going to make her appearance. 

“That’s kind of her,” Carlos murmured, “Try not to tire her, mi amour. I do not think she has the same training to handle you.”

Charles watched with a slight smile as Carlos dodged a punch Lando threw in his direction.

It was always wonderful seeing love work so well.

“Do you have any idea why Pierre is taking so long?” Charles spoke up, glancing at the open doors, “I swear he is going to make us lose the best part of the day.”

Carlos had never been good at keeping secrets. The man immediately had a guilty look pressed across his face as Lando glanced between the two of them.

“Am I missing something here?” the smaller wondered aloud, but he did not have to be curious for too long as three figures came out of the house.

Three .

Charles was going to kill Pierre. 

The man himself did not look the slightest bit guilty as he said hello to Lando and Carlos. That was not the problem, nor was the problem Victoria, who smiled kindly and wore a pretty light blue dress. The problem was Max. Max was wearing riding gear and trying to keep as much space between them as possible.

He wondered if suffocation by pillow would take too long.

Charles did his best to keep his smile on his face though, as Victoria came forward to say hello. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her hand. “It is wonderful to finally meet you, Miss Verstappen.”

This was the first time he was seeing her up close and the siblings did share a few features. They had the same blue eyes, the curve of their nose and a similar smile. 

She giggled softly, “The same to you, Mr. Leclerc. I hear you are also in this year's season. I am surprised we have not bumped into each other during the balls, but my brother has made your acquaintance a few times.”

So he had told his sister about him. “Oh yes. I suppose your brother was not keen on sharing,” He spoke casually, though his eyes had drifted to Max, who was pointedly trying to seem interested in whatever Lando was discussing.

Victoria, to his surprise, seemed to agree. “He is not the best at sharing, I will have to admit. Too much of our childhood was spent fighting over toys.”

He caught Max glancing at them once again out of the corner of his eye. 

“Did you not want to join us in riding today?” Charles asked instead, even though he knew why she would not be. 

Victoria shook her head, dirty blond curls bouncing a little. “No, no, Lando kindly asked me to keep him company, I would feel awful leaving him alone when he is hurt like this. We should all go once he is healed completely!” she suggested instead. “My brother and I will be here for much of my season and I hear you are a family friend of the Sainzes, no?”

She was definitely as kind as her brother. It was hard to imagine these kind siblings caught in some horrid family ordeal. 

“Oh, yes. You’ll see plenty of me and Pierre I am sure, and perhaps my younger brother will join us next time. I am sure he is already upset. I'm spending so much time without him out here.”

Victoria seemed delighted by that. “Wonderful. I am sure we will get to know each other very well then. Now, I think I’m keeping you,” She glanced over her shoulder where the group was waiting for them to finish up their conversation.

“You know, I think I already prefer your company over theirs,” he commented casually, but moved nonetheless, taking his gloves from Pierre’s hands.

“Shall we hold a competition?” Charles announced, narrowing his eyes at Pierre. “First to the lakes, perhaps? The losers must strip and take a nice little dip in the water?”

“I hope you have thought this through, chèri,” Pierre spoke up, eyebrows raised. 

“I have. I don’t think I can recall a time you have beaten me, Pear.”

Carlos, however, stood between them before he could shoot another comment. “I know we are used to competing between the three of us, but Max is the real competition, I fear.”

Charles had almost forgotten about their fourth surprise rider. He glanced over at the man who already had a pink tint to his cheeks from the small mention.

“He’s won tons of races back home!” Victoria chirped from where she was now sitting next to Lando. 

“Oh?” Charles asked, interest peaking. 

“Vic!” Max’s voice finally broke out, “Hush…”

Victoria frowned, tilting her head curiously. “It’s not like you to not brag, brother. Come on, tell them about all your wins. Everyone despises  him back home because of it. No one stands a chance.”

No one? Interesting.

“You know our Charles here is also a riding champ!” Pierre chirped up, an arm resting across his shoulders. “He and Carlos would enter every race possible, trying to rack up more wins than the other.”

Unlike Max, he was not going to be hiding his achievements simply because they had kissed. Especially if Max was worthy of competition. 

“It’s true!” Lando chirped up, “I remember seeing them compete at races. They were amazing. Who knew I’d be marrying someone I admired back then.” There was nothing but pride in his voice as he spoke. Carlos beamed as he leaned over to press a kiss to Lando’s lips. 

“So, Verstappen, are you ready for some real competition? Considering you are so good back home?” Charles asked the man directly, tone playful.

Max eyed him quietly and Charles was sure even Lando would be able to figure out something had happened between them.

“I accept your challenge,” Max finally said, “I hope you are not prone to colds, Mr. Leclerc.”

Oh.

There it was.

Max Verstappen did have a bite to him.

Charles could not help but grin. “It’s settled then. First to reach the lakes is the winner and the rest are to take a dip in the lake.”

Lando beside them let out a loud groan. “I cannot believe I am going to miss this. Carlos, you have to recreate going to the water once I am better.”

“You think I am going to lose?” Carlos cried out, “Cariño, have some faith in me!”

“Do you see the looks on Charles’ and Max’s faces? I do not think this will end well for you and Pierre, I’m afraid,” Lando spoke casually. 

Victoria nodded her head in agreement, “I think mentioning my brother's wins must have been a mistake…” She murmured sheepishly. 

Charles did not believe it was a mistake at all. This worked in his favor. Nothing would improve his mood more than seeing Max lose. 

They headed down to the stables once Carlos and Lando had said their overly affection goodbyes. 

“Did you two ever leave your honeymoon phase?” Pierre questioned, eyebrows raised as Carlos jogged up to them. 

Carlos simply smiled, shrugging his shoulders, “You tell me you and Esteban do not do this?”

Pierre wrinkled his nose in distaste, “Never.”

“Liar!” Charles sang out softly, walking the slightest bit faster to dodge his friend's hand. “They are equally disgusting, trust me, Carlos. When they were staying with us in Monaco, poor Arthur was horrified by how many times he caught them with their hands all over each other.”

“Calmar!” Pierre hissed out, but Charles only laughed, ducking into the stables. 

The stablehands had already prepared their horses beforehand, which he was thankful for. It had been awhile since he had prepared everything himself. As everyone got settled on their respective horses, Charles could not help looking towards Max, who was softly speaking to his horse, hand petting the mane softly. His voice was too quiet for him to hear, but it was a sweet sight.

“Alright, gentlemen!” Carlos spoke as they slowly made their way over to the start of the pathway most frequently used for riding, “As Charles here wanted, we will be racing all the way down to the lakes. It’s not a complicated path, the horses frequent it, so trust them to keep in line. If everything goes smoothly, we will all be close to one another and we will see the clear winner.”

They were standing aligned, Pierre and Carlos on the outside whilst he and Max stood between. 

For a while, whenever he had ridden his heart was often in his throat. It had taken a few years for it to not feel like every ride was leading to his doom. He was proud of how far he had come, the dread no longer swirling in his stomach. 

It did not appear either as one of the stablehands gave them the signal and they were off down the pathway. 

A faint smile spread across his face as he shot down the trail. It was easy to lose track of the others in his concentration, aside from the odd sound of another horse nearby. 

All of them, excluding Max, had been riding down these paths more times then he could count. He had learnt to ride on these very pathways with Carlos when he had been younger. They did have a slight advantage over Max, as they knew shortcuts and ways to get around, but if Max was as skilled as Victoria had made it seem he should not have too much trouble. 

Which he had been correct about. 

To his surprise, Max had been right on his heels the entire time, Charles’ eyes widened as he watched the man gallop past him on his horse, even glancing behind him with a smirk.

That only sparked his determination to win further.  

Eventually, once no one else was in sight, he took the sharp right in the pathway. It was not a path the horses were typically used to but it was one Charles knew like the back of his hand. Sure, it had been a couple of years since it was last used by him, but it was only slightly overgrown, his horse managing it quite nicely. This shortcut was for sure going to save him a few seconds or even a minute if he went fast enough.

It fell back into the original pathing and no one else seemed to be around. Perfect .

Soon enough the lake had come into view. It was at the edge of the Sainz property, a place he had spent many hours swimming in with friends and outings with his own family along with the Sainzes.

To his delight though, as he slowed the horse into a trot and glanced around, he was the first to arrive.

He had won.

More importantly, he had won against Max, the supposed reigning champion back home.

It was only further confirmed as, seconds later, Max burst through into the clearing, followed closely by Carlos and Pierre. Charles had no clue which of the two were actually last, but it did not matter. All of them would be taking a lovely little dip in the lake. 

He could not hold back the smile spreading across his face. “What did I tell you!” he yelled, moving his horse closer to the other three, “You did not stand a chance against me!”

Max seemed annoyed, to his delight, finally an emotion outside his kind words and sheepish glances. Max was not keen at all at losing it seemed. His lips were downturned and he had an unreadable look into his eyes. He was quietly seething

“You took the shortcut, didn’t you?” Pierre asked, eyes narrowed. “You are simply lucky you did not get stuck on a fallen tree branch, calamar, or I think Max would be the one celebrating.”

“You are right, though I did not get stuck and I came first. Now hurry up! The water awaits you.” He turned his horse around, trotting over to the nearest tree to the water’s edge so his horse could have some water and a rest as the punishment was seen through. 

There was a small dock leading into the water where they would be jumping from. It was a little more rundown now, he noticed as he tied his horse off and got a footing onto the wood. It was no surprise, since they had all stopped coming here as often. Children growing older and the Sainzes themselves getting older. It was difficult to gather everyone and come out here, he supposed. It was a little saddening to see a piece of his childhood slowly falling into ruins. He wondered if he could convince Carlos to give it a bit of cleaning and fixing up.

“Lando already asked,” Carlos spoke up before Charles had the chance. “I took him out here a few months ago and I have not found the chance to get someone out here, but I will fix it up, Charlito, do not worry.”

Charles nodded, smiling. He trusted Carlos to keep his word, especially if Lando had asked for it to be done already. “I think it’ll be a nice place to take your children to once you decide to make the family bigger,” Charles added casually. 

Carlos simply smiled again, “We will see.”

Soon enough they were joined by Pierre and Max. Pierre seemed oddly happy to have lost, whispering something to Max, and Max still had the same expression of annoyance as earlier. 

“I do not see how it is fair Mr. Leclerc here won by taking a path no one else knew of.  Is that not cheating?” Max spoke out.

“It is not cheating when I was simply taking the most efficient way, Mr. Verstappen,” Charles shot back without hesitation.

“An efficient way I did not even know of.”

He simply shrugged his shoulders, “If you are so against cheating, you should have mentioned it as a rule because it was never said you can not get creative with your choice of pathway.”

At that, Max’s fury seemed to get a bit brighter, cheeks turning the slightest bit more red. “You–” he paused, cutting himself off before taking a deep breath, “You are certainly a treat when it comes to competition.”

“You have not even seen him at his worst,” Pierre muttered, shrugging out of his riding jacket. 

It was impossible for Charles not to keep grinning as the three men muttered their annoyances while their fate for the next hour came closer, shrugging out of their outer layers. He himself took the moment to enjoy the sun on his face. The weather was nice today, a slight breeze cooling them all off, which would make the cold water less enjoyable then if it had been completely hot. 

Perhaps Charles should have learnt to be more shameful, but he could not help himself as he looked over at Max. No matter how disastrous the previous day had been with him, it had no way depleted what he felt for the other man. It especially did not help that Max was utterly more attractive without anything but his drawers and shirt on. Pants, riding coat, and riding boots had all been set into a neat little pile next to where he stood. Max was not built like the other two men. Yes, Charles had seen Max in only his shirt before, but this felt different. It was untucked out of his pants, the hem of it hanging over his thighs. The fabric was taut around his arms. His legs were softly built as well, thighs thick, and Charles felt himself swallow, his mouth impossibly dry.

Carlos was the closest comparison, but the other man’s muscles were much more built and stronger looking. Pierre was muscular but his frame was on the thinner side, shoulders broad, but torso slim just like his face.

Max had chosen to ignore his gaze or had not noticed, as he remained clueless, getting his stockings off his legs. 

Instead, there was a light hit to the back of his head that had his gaze ripped away from his perfect view. He glared at Pierre, who looked back at him skeptically. 

“Is there a specific reason you picked a punishment that would involve getting the man you are interested in out of his clothes, calamar?”

The question was asked innocently enough and if it had been Carlos who asked perhaps he would have offered an answer, but this was Pierre.

“Is there a specific reason you invited him on this ride? Or is it unrelated to how I confessed something to you just yesterday.”

Pierre was quiet, seemingly not wanting to reveal his intentions. “Right then, stay quiet and let me have this at least, since you planned all this.”

Though this time as he turned his head, his eyes connected with Max’s immediately. Pierre had not been quiet enough, judging by the pink to Max’s cheeks and Carlos, who seemed much more interested in the weeds growing between the wooden planks.

Charles' own face glowed red, but he was not going to let this ruin his joy. “What are you waiting for? The water won’t get any warmer even if you stand around!”

Carlos was the first to move, laughing even as Pierre made a sound of distress from one glance at the water. “Oh, come on, Pierre, it’s only water. You’ll dry off!” He went as far as grabbing ahold of his arm dragging him to the end of the dock. “Come, we’ll jump together.”

The idea seemed to worsen Pierre’s distaste. “And what, let you drown me?!” he exclaimed “You and Charles always tried to drag me under as children!”

“Oh, quit being so dramatic!” Charles called out, moving over where they were standing, “The faster you do this, the faster we can leave and go be warm!”

“ We,” Pierre repeated with a soft scoff, but he was not given another chance to complain or moan as Carlos grabbed ahold of his waist and dragged them both off the dock. Pierre barely managed a swear into the air as they hit the water with a loud splash.

Charles could not help but laugh at the sight of it, watching Carlos and Pierre emerge from the water. His best friend easily matched the sight of an angry wet cat, flaying in the water. 

“I am going to kill you!” Pierre cried out, launching himself at a cackling Carlos, who quickly swam to the side to dodge Pierre’s claw-like hands. 

“You survived! Why are you so angry?!” Carlos cried out, continuing to swim just out of touch. He had always been the strongest swimmer out of them.

He had to write back to Esteban about this. Charles was sure his husband would be delighted to hear about this little story.

“Careful, Carlos! Mon minou has claws!” he called out playfully. 

As the two in the water continued to fumble around like children, he looked over at Max, who seemed to be staring down at the water as if planning his escape. 

“Do not get any ideas, Verstappen. You will be getting into that water one way or another,” Charles spoke out quickly, not wanting Max to get any sort of smart ideas. 

Max looked over at him, an oddly relaxed expression on his face. “Oh, do not worry, I play fairly unlike some men. I will take my punishment as deserved.”

Charles narrowed his eyes at the man, but nodded, gesturing to the water, “Well? Are you waiting for an audience? Because I fear Pierre and Carlos are too occupied with each other.”

“I believe your eyes are audience enough with how they wander, Mr. Leclerc.”

Max was not as kind as he had once thought. There was that hope he continued to spark back up. Why had he turned him down if he shared similar feelings? They could have spoken properly about it or attempted to speak about it. But Max had run.

Max had run and left Charles sitting there.

Charles refused to smile at his comment, gesturing to the water once again. “Go, Max.”

Thankfully, it seemed as though Max had enough of waiting around, jumping off the deck and into the cold water. He came up to the surface, swearing as he moved through the water towards the dock minutes after resurfacing. In the background, Pierre had found weeds in his hair and had begun shrieking about it.

“You can not just get—” Except Charles was not allowed to finish his sentence as a wet hand circled around his ankle.

“Max. Do not—” But Max’s plan had already been in motion. A second hand was raised, placed more higher on his other leg. The touch burned from Max’a ice cold hands. With one strong tug, he was dragged off the dock and into the water with a loud splash. 

For a moment he floundered in the water from the shock, eyes squeezed shut as he tried to get his bearings until he was being lifted up into someone's arms, taking a deep gasp for breath as he broke the surface for a second time. 

He let himself catch his breath, arms useless as he quickly pushed his hair up out of his eyes and realized that Max was the one who had his arms wrapped around his torso, keeping them both afloat. Which should have been obvious considering the other two were further down the lake. 

What also took him a moment to take in was how close he and Max were. Their faces were inches apart, a smile on Max’s face as he held Charles carefully. The white shirt had left little for his imagination as wet fabric clung to the dips in his shoulders and collarbones. There was water dripping down his face from his hair that looked significantly darker from the water. Water clung to his eyelashes and fell down his red cheeks.

Max looked ethereal. 

He despised it.

Charles scowled. “You bastard!” he huffed out, hitting his shoulder with the palm of his hand, “I was the winner!” 

Max’s smile never disappeared, “I just thought you would like a refreshing dip as well, lieve. Riding always gets me hot, I thought you’d enjoy it.”

Charles continued to scowl at the man, hands moving to clutch at his shoulders though to keep himself further upright in the water. “You are a complete and utter bastard,” he repeated, refusing to let Max win whatever this silent battle was. Which also involved how wonderful it felt to be in his arms once again, even after tasting it only once.

Perhaps he would always be desperate. 

“I know,” Max replied softly, no hate or disapproval on his face, and Charles hated that it almost made him want to smile. 

“Ah! I see you outsmarted our winner!” Carlos' voice broke their little bubble as the man swam over, a suspicious amount of water plants tucked in his hair as Pierre followed close behind, looking a little more victorious. 

Max shrugged, Charles attempting to ignore how his arms tightened around him underwater. “I thought it would be nice for him to cool off with us.” 

“How kind of you,” Pierre commented, eyeing them as he swam past. “Are you going to spend the rest of day in the water holding each other then?” he wondered aloud as he pulled himself up back onto the dock, Carlos following. 

Charles did not know what Max was doing with all these actions, but he was not going to let him win his attention back this easily. He shoved at his chest, breaking out of his hold and lifted himself back up onto the dock. All of his clothes were properly soaked, he had not even taken his riding jacket off yet nor his boots. 

“ Pierre! ” He could not help but whine, standing up and staring down at his drenched clothing. The other men would at least have their jackets and dry pants and shoes whilst he was stuck, like this.

“ Charles ,” Pierre mimicked, “You won’t be getting any pity from me. You should have known if it was not Max, I would be dragging you into the water.”

Max was not far behind, clambering out of the water and Charles made the grave mistake of looking over. The white shirt he wore had turned half translucent, clinging to every part he had not been able to see in the water. It clung to each curve on his body, his chest and the curve of his waist. Max took it a step worse, unbuttoning his shirt with quick fingers, dropping the soaked shirt onto the ground.

Charles swallowed silently.

It was even worse seeing Max without the protection of his clothing. His skin was pale with a faint flush across his chest and collarbones. He looked softer than expected around his torso but it only made Charles’ want grow. He wanted to press his hands into the pale skin and drag his nails across it. There was a dark trail of hair that disappeared past the band of his drawers which Charles let himself have a fleeting glance at.

Lorenzo would have killed him by now for sure. If Lorenzo even knew how he was spending his time at the Sainz estate, he was going to be locked in the house for at least a month.

He dragged his eyes away, swallowing as he pulled his wet riding jacket off to at least ease the heavy pressure around his shoulders. His waistcoat followed, leaving him in his wet shirt. Part of him wanted to take it off, along with his pants for hope it would dry a little not clinging to his skin, but he was not sure if he wanted to undress out here. Carlos and Pierre were both wed, so it was different, and he did not know of the customs Max came from, but some part of his mind was running over the rules his mother had instilled in him to be a proper representation of their family in society.

Instead of stripping, he gathered his wet clothing and decided to wait for the other men to put on whatever dry clothing they had, hair still sticking up and in odd directions. At least he was offered a funny sight, as Carlos fumbled with his dry waistcoat to at least add an extra layer of clothing. 

“I must say, Lando would enjoy that sight,” Charles commented, which in turn left Carlos not pulling his riding coat back on. 

Max, once he had recovered enough to look over, had pulled his pants back on and simply buttoned his riding coat over his bare chest. Charles looked away before Max could notice.

They headed back home soon after, deciding to lead the horses back by walking. Or, he and Pierre had. Carlos and Max were riding back at a slow pace. Charles had piled his wet clothing on the horse as had Pierre, both attempting to dry more of their clothing in case there were guests present after they had left. Appearances were no fun to keep up with.

Max, at one point, had stopped riding ahead with Carlos and he found them walking side by side, Pierre further behind complaining, being the dramatic man he was. 

Charles was not sure what to make of Max walking with him. It did not look like he wanted to make conversation, simply content with being in his presence. 

Odd.

Eventually their small journey came to an end, the horses returned to their stables, Charles taking a moment to give his own horse a small treat, a silent thank you for helping him win the race. Carlos asked one of the stablehands to bring up all the wet clothing to the house later when they had a moment.

They trudged back up the pathway towards the house, where they found Lando and Victoria still sitting waiting for them, except this time with tea, drinks and an abundance of food. It reminded Charles of his own hunger after the day's events.

The two however, stared at them wide-eyed and a little confused.

“How are you all wet?” Lando asked, eyeing them all as Pierre collapsed on one of the chairs with a loud groan. 

“Mr. Verstappen turns out to be a bit of a sore loser,” Charles shot out before Max could speak. 

Victoria giggled, “Yes, that does sound like my brother. I take it you won then, Mr. Leclerc.”

Charles nodded his head, pointedly throwing a glare at Max. “He dragged me in with all my clothes on, shoes as well. I feel disgusting and wet,” he complained loudly.

“I’ll have the staff prepare some baths for us,” Carlos said as he reached them, “We can bathe and then I am sure Charlotte will be calling us for dinner shortly after.”

“And how is your ankle, mi amour?” He was immediately moving to his husband’s side, pressing a kiss to his head, but Lando did not utter a word, mouth half open.

“What is it?” Carlos questioned, but Lando was already reaching up, hands trailing down his husband’s exposed arms. 

“I do not think I can ever allow you to dress like this in front of others ever again,” Lando uttered shamelessly. “Would you like to share a bath?” The question was nothing less than shameless either.

“Lando!” Carlos scolded gently, “You are in the presence of a lady!”

“Oh, hush, I am sure she knows a few things now, spending her time with me.”

“Do I need to remind you her brother is also here?” Carlos hissed next, glancing towards Max, who did not seem angry, more amused as Lando finally grew a little sheepish.

Carlos simply shook his head, “The rest of you enjoy these refreshments if you like whilst I have the bathes drawn.”

Pierre waved the man off, still curled up in his chair whilst Max nodded, softly thanking him before Carlos was helping Lando up into his arms and disappearing back inside. 

Half of Charles wanted to curl in a chair right next to Pierre, who seemed half into a dreamless sleep already, but the other half was itching to get out of these lake drenched clothes already. 

“I will see you all during dinner. I need to get out of these clothes.”

Victoria nodded her head, smiling at him kindly, “Of course! Have a nice evening, Mr. Leclerc.”

He offered a smile in return before turning to Pierre, wondering if he should bother to bring him along, but then again he was the reason he had to face Max so quickly. He could carry on the whole day in those clothes, he couldn't care less. 

Charles headed inside, feeling lighter than the previous night. If he was honest with himself Pierre had been right for inviting Max. It had helped him avoid hiding from Max, and beating him in a race was an added bonus. 

Behind him, there was another trickle of footsteps. He glanced behind, assuming it would be Pierre hurrying after him, but to his slight surprise it was Max mid-step, looking as if he had been caught in the middle of a crime.

Charles raised his eyebrows. “Are you tiptoeing around me?” he questioned.

“I think it would be hard to avoid you either way, since our bedrooms are on the same floor, Charles.”

His heart lurched forward at how Max had whispered his name once again. It reminded him how his heart itself had never been upset with Max. Somehow even the man himself telling him they could not was not enough for it.

All his heart was fond of was leading him into troublesome love. 

“Well, come along then, we might as well walk together.”

He waited there until Max finally moved, accepting that Charles was being serious about walking together. Only because it would look odd if Charles was walking slightly ahead of Max and neither of them were exchanging words. Were all the Dutch this odd, or was it a Max specialty? He almost wanted to ask, but he held his tongue. This was not a happy walk.

Though Max was keen on conversation this time.

“Are you upset I dragged you into the water?” Max tentatively spoke up.

Charles blinked, pausing in the middle of the stairs to turn to Max. Was this man being serious? “No.”

“ Oh. ” That was the quiet realization Max offered him. An oh .

He frowned at the man next to him. “Are you—Do you not remember what happened in the piano room?” His voice was harsher than intended, but his annoyance was returning.

Max’s eyes widened. “Of course I do,” he replied quickly.

“Then you, surely, must know why I am angry with you.”

“But I was referring specifically to the water. I realized I should have made sure you knew how to swim before dragging you down into it.”

Charles wanted to scream. Maybe if he screamed all his problems would be scared away and he would be left with nothing to cry over anymore. 

“I am able to swim, Max. I am not upset about the water,” he repeated and continued his ascent up the stairs, steps formidably louder.

Maybe he should have been upset about it. His clothes getting soaked by the lake water and having nothing to change into, unlike the other men. 

They paused for a moment at the top of the stairs, Charles glancing towards Max, who had found interest in the floorboards.

Charles had been a fool to think Max intended on saying anything on the matter.

“Have a pleasant evening, Max .” 

With that he turned on his heel and towards his door. There was no sound of footsteps following so he pushed his way into his bedroom. The maid was finishing up his bath, offering him a nod in greeting as steam poured out from the basin. 

He wanted a bath more than anything at that moment. 

The moment she left he shed his clothes. Nothing was better than getting out of the damp clothing, leaving them in a pile by the bed. He stepped into the basin, sighing softly at the warmth of the water surrounding him as he sank down properly into the bath. 

Charles' eyes fluttered shut as he went as he sank as low as possible, willing his mind to give him a moment's peace without Max or Lorenzo or anything tormenting him. 

It was exhausting remaining angry.

If his father had been here he would have told him there was no point in being so angry. That anger never solved problems, it simply caused more distress. 

If his father would have been here, he would not be sinking deep into a bath, hoping it would drown his troubles. Instead, he would be tucked into his study, running his mouth until he had nothing more to speak of and the anger that swirled inside of him had shrunk into nothingness. 

But his father was not here and Charles was left to rot in his anger. 

Chapter Text

The rain had been something troubling for him for a long time. 

During the worst storms he would often curl into bed with Arthur, comforting him and himself in the process. As if somehow together they could will away the brewing storm. 

They had outgrown the habit for quite some time now but it did not mean he felt at ease around rain. It always brought a gray cloud to accompany his heart as it battered down against windows and the ground. 

It was one of those mornings. 

Charles did not awaken to the shining sun or to Pierre knocking on the door and pulling the curtains apart. 

The room was shadowed in darkness as his eyes opened. He had not even drawn the curtains closed the previous night but it was not like there was sun to awaken him either way. The sky was gray and cloudy, the opposite to the gorgeous day they had yesterday. He was not surprised. Summer was not only sunshine and flowers, it was mixed with rain storms and biting wind, especially here in England. 

Slowly he clambered out of bed, his robe thrown and pulled tightly around himself. He walked over to one of the bigger windows in the bedroom. It was only raining lightly at the moment, an occasional raindrop hitting the glass as he looked out into the back garden. It was barren of the usual staff milling around, the furniture outside had also disappeared to protect it from what was to come. 

Charles knew there was something beautiful about rain. He knew there were some who enjoyed it and he knew at one point he did too, before the rain had taken something precious from him. He had never come to forgive rain for it, only grown less fearful.

The rest of the house seemed to be as slow moving as the storm outside. There was only faint chatter audible somewhere from downstairs, a lone maid down by the steps dusting and humming a soft tune. 

It was peaceful. 

The kitchen was also empty and he knew there was freshly made food waiting for him in one one of the drawing rooms, but joining a conversation was simply out of question during a morning like this. 

Instead, he gathered some fruit, cut it all up into a small bowl and found his way back to the piano room. It was blissfully empty, the curtains all drawn shut. He placed his breakfast on the small table and pulled apart the curtains of the closest window to the piano to add some light to the room without needing to get a candle. 

The storm had not begun, but the sky was only growing darker.

Sitting down at the piano took a moment. His eyes stuck on the seat where he had shown his desperation. 

Charles did not even know what the desperation was for. Love? Touch? The desperation to have someone want him just as he did? 

Perhaps it was all of that mixed together in some sort of hellish desperation, and Max had shown it back, yet had pulled away and deemed it to be something that could not happen again.

It was a cruel game. 

He sat down nonetheless, fingertips brushing across the keys. It was the same process he went through each time he sat down to play. A way to ground himself in the moment and remind himself as to why he loved to play. 

There was no piece displayed on the piano this time. Bianca must have taken it back to her bedroom. There were not a lot of pieces Charles knew from memory, but his favorites were the exception. 

It took a few attempts before he got the hang of it, drifting through his notes as if it were his second nature. He let the music fill his ears, willing himself not to think of the day. 

Charles was not sure how long he had been playing, eyes closed as his hands drifted across the keys. It was not until the heavy beat of the rain pulled him out of the music did his hands still and his head move towards the window. 

The rain was hitting the window harshly, the sky an angry gray now. If it had been yesterday this would have fit his mood perfectly, but it did not feel the most out of place today either.

Oddly, there was movement outside. Charles frowned, moving over to the window curiously only to find Max standing outside, an umbrella over his head as he spoke to a man just beyond the back patio. 

What on earth was he doing outside in this weather?

There was nothing Charles could make out with the added sound of the rain and wind. He only spied an exchange of a letter, the mystery man nodding his head and disappearing back around the house.

Max, however, stood there for a beat longer, his head tilted down almost solemnly. 

Had something happened? 

He watched on, but nothing more happened, Max turned around and disappeared back inside.

Charles' curiosity always got the better of him. He hurried out of the room, only to run straight into Carlos, who was looking at him with raised eyebrows. 

“Charles? I did not know you were awake. Have you eaten? There is still some lunch left, I believe.”

He barely caught a word of what Carlos was saying, attempting to peek over his shoulders to spy which direction Max was going towards.

“Charles?” A hand squeezed at his shoulder dragging his attention back to Carlos’ face, which was frowning now before he too was glancing behind himself. “Did something happen between the two of you…?” Carlos’ voice was hushed.

Did something happen between them? Was that not the question of the decade?

Charles did not even know how to answer, blinking cluelessly at Carlos.

“Do you know why Max does not care to wed?”

The question that haunted him had escaped, but Carlos was the only person he would be able to ask this to. He was the first to mention Max’s distaste for it and Charles needed to know. Perhaps if he could counter it with something, Max would not flee from him.

Perhaps there could be a chance. Even if it was a small one.

Carlos continued to frown at him, his hands disappearing from his shoulder. “Charles…”

“Please!” Charles immediately found himself interrupting. He did not want to be warned and lectured. He just wanted to know if there was a chance, “Please? For me? I—” He took a moment to glance around, taking a deep breath in, “My heart longs for him, Carlos. I want to know how I can show my honest adoration. I have not felt this–this in so long.” 

When they had been young they had often talked about courting and love. Carlos had always said he never wanted to marry, did not see the appeal to it. He had always teased Charles’ ability to fall for someone so easily, how he carried too much love in him. That it would only get him hurt, and it had gotten Charles hurt many times. They had lost track of how many times it had happened, but Carlos had always been there, more times then Pierre even. 

Carlos had seen it all and Charles had seen Carlos fall in love, going against everything he had claimed as a child.

He always knew Carlos would meet someone. His perfect match. 

Charles simply wanted that one chance before Lorenzo got his way, and soon his days left hiding in the Sainz estate would be gone. He would have to face those men all over again.

This was all the time he had. 

“Your heart…?” Carlos repeated. His eyes for a moment were unreadable, before they settled into something soft, something understanding, and he was pulling Charles back into the piano room.

Carlos sighed softly, leaning back against the door. “It is his father. His family name if you want to be specific. He fears dragging someone into his family name and having them shunned from society. You told us how Enzo reacted, Charles, that would be the norm. Yes, most here tolerate the Verstappen family's presence, but it is only because they come from money and Jos is a dangerous name. Everyone here sneers behind their backs but greets them politely face to face. Victoria would be lucky to find a match, they most likely pity the lady from coming from such a family, but Max? Max is assumed to be just like his father. He is to take part in his business dealings and he is the eldest son Jos has. Max does not have an escape from this and he intends on doing it all, Charlito.”

There it was. 

That was what was holding Max back. 

His father.

Max did not want to marry in fear of his spouse losing all credibility. He did not want another to suffer because of where he came from, and with the way Carlos spoke, it did not seem like Max planned on leaving his father’s side either. 

Max was sacrificing his own chance at happiness so no one suffered alongside him.

Charles was at a loss of what to say. He had gotten his answer, but there was no clear answer on how to solve it aside from begging. Beg Max to give him a chance or beg Max to leave his family behind. 

However, Leclercs did not beg. No respectable person begged. That would bring shame to his papa’s name and Charles would never be able to live with himself. 

Making mistake after mistake was going to be the end of him

“I’m sorry, Charles...I wish you would have told me before..I could have spared you this heartache…” Carlos added softly as the silence grew on between them.

His heart was never going to survive this. 

“We kissed, Carlos.” The confession slipped his lips as he wrapped his arms around himself. 

So much pointed towards Max feeling something for him, why could they not try?

Carlos’ eyes widened. “You—You kissed?” he repeated in a baffled tone. 

Charles nodded, eyes falling towards the piano in slight despair. If only Max had given him a moment to speak that day.

“Charles! You—You cannot just!” Carlos paused, clearing his throat for a moment as he ran his hands through his hair. “Did he kiss you?!”

He thought back to the moment. Max had been the one to kiss him, but Charles had been asking for it. He had been the one who had led them to that moment and Max had simply given in to his desperations. 

“I wanted it…I asked him to. I could not take it anymore, Carlos.”

“But he kissed you?” Carlos repeated, as if he had not heard an answer. 

“Yes,” Charles huffed out, frowning now, “But I pushed for it. Do not be angry with him, Carlos. I know it was foolish and inappropriate for the both of us.” He already knew all the consequences from this coming out. He would be reliving something he had already gone through. Charles just could not help him. Love always made him this desperate thing. He craved it. He needed to sink his teeth into it and never let go once it was close enough.

He could not help himself.

One day soon it would be his downfall if he managed to walk away alive from all this.

“I am not angry with him,” Carlos began, “Nor with you, but this is—you let your heart stray you much too far, Charlito.”

You never learn, Charles.

You cannot keep doing this, Charles.

He knew what those words actually meant and he did not hate Carlos for that. Anything Carlos had to say would prove to be better than anything Lorenzo would say. He was sure his brother would not even hear him out like Carlos.

“I will need to speak to him about this. I need to find out his true intentions if he kissed you and what he means by…by all he does around you. Like yesterday in the lake…” Carlos spoke carefully, watching his face with eyes that peered into his soul.

So it was obvious what Max had been doing yesterday. It was odd and out of place for someone who did not want to get wet.

Charles nodded, taking in a shaky breath. “If—If there is a way around his vow not to marry…would you support us?”

He needed to know if he had any sort of backing. Yes, he would have Pierre by his side, but Pierre’s hold on society remained back in Milan, he did not have much say here. But Carlos did. The Sainz family did, and they seemed to accept Max’s presence here. 

Carlos seemed taken back by the question, eyebrows furrowing and his face twisted into surprise. “Of course I would, Charles. You will always have my support. You are my oldest friend and I want to see you happy. Both you and Max deserve happiness, and if it is with each other then I could not ask for anything better.”

It was like a breath of fresh air, hearing Carlos’ approval. He had a chance here. There was some hope left and perhaps together they could convince Max that he did not have to fear for Charles’ place in society. 

Society had never been a huge concern from him. Having followed his papa’s way of living, he had never cared for the rules and ways of life. Yes, he had learnt them to appease his maman and Lorenzo, but that was all. He had followed his papa’s ways more than anything.

He had stopped worrying about society's look of him long ago but if it damaged his family's image alongside, then he hesitated. 

On one hand Charles did not care if Max’s name would drag him down in society’s eyes. At least he would be marrying a man he loved. But on the other was his family suffering for it. It could lead to Arthur not being able to marry who he desired. Did he want to give that fate to his younger brother?

If his father had been alive he would never have had to be torn between two sides like this. He would have been able to show Max was nothing like his father and given his approval and wished him all the happiness in the world.

But he was not here and Charles had no clear choice.

The rest of the day was spent in a slight haze. Confiding in Carlos had helped. The older man had promised he would speak to Max but it did not guarantee anything at all. In fact, it left him floundering a bit more because he could not approach the man at all. He could not catch Max before Carlos spoke to him about it all. 

They had agreed Carlos would make a casual ask about whether or not Max wished to marry and go from there. Carlos was good at these sorts of things, he was clear and straightforward and Max seemed to be similar in that nature. They could not dance around the subject for too long.

The only main way to occupy himself was with Lando. Lando who knew nothing of what happened between him and Max. Blissfully unaware. 

“How has your ankle been?” Charles asked, settling down on the bed next to Lando. All the curtains in the room were drawn open, sunlight seeping into every corner of the room. The bed was large with an intricate canopy above it. It made Lando look even smaller as he rested, paler from the lack of sun and bored out of his mind.

“The doctor says it's healing nicely. It should not be long until I can at least hobble around, though Carlos seems too paranoid to even let me step a foot on the ground. You know he insists on carrying me through the whole healing process?” Lando complained, throwing his head back against the pillow.

Charles giggled, shaking his head, “It’s only because he cares.”

“Well, if he cared he would entertain me more often. I did not even realize he went out so much until I could not go with him, and this house has too many stairs!” he whined out as an added bonus.

At least even an injury could not prevent Lando from not being himself. 

“Not enough visitors? You could have called on me. I have just been playing piano to waste my hours away.”

“And take you away from Max? I could never!” Lando gasped out.

Charles straightened up at the mention of the man, eyebrows raised, “What do you mean?”

“Oh, don’t play a fool, I did not hit my head, Charles. I remember you showing some interest that day at the ball! How has it been going then, hm? Any progress to sway the man who does not want to wed?”

He could not help but feel relieved that Carlos had not told Lando everything. It was not that he did not trust the other man, but it was going to become increasingly more difficult for the kiss to stay underwraps if it kept spreading by word of mouth.

Charles managed a tentative smile, shrugging his shoulders, “It is…well it is not going well. I do not know how to tell him I am worth marrying. Frankly, I do not know anything of my own worth…”

“Charles,” Lando tsked, “You are worth much more than whatever you believe. I know you have some impossibly low number in your mind that is the farthest from the truth.”

Worthless. 

He kept that thought to himself for a moment, instead humming, fingertips picking at the threads of the blanket half covering Lando. 

Hands were suddenly cupping his cheeks as he was forced to look up back at Lando. His cheeks squished between Lando’s grasp. “Do I need to fetch Pierre and Carlos to get you out of this mess?” The younger asked seriously, eyebrows knit together in his middle.

Charles shook his head. The last thing he needed was troubling them all more. 

Lando kept their eyes locked for a moment longer before his hands disappeared. “Now then, would you like to plan on how you will be courting Max?” he asked. “What have you learnt from him? What does he enjoy?”

“Courting?!” Charles asked, alarmed.

“What? Do you expect that man to be forward? He can hardly look at you when you are in the room, Charles, he is much too respectful to take the first step without speaking of his intentions, and since it seems that speaking is not part of him either, you must take the first step.”

Courting.

Courting had always been something he had looked forward to. He had watched Lorenzo court his now wife, plan little outings for them along with many gifts. He had listened to his mother tell stories of how their papa had courted her. He had watched Lando court Carlos and he had watched Pierre and Esteban trip over their feet attempting it as well, before realizing they were not people who enjoyed it.

His own experience with courting had been rocky. With Edward he had done nothing. Edward had been the one to chase after him. Edward had given him necklaces and rings. He had bought him countless books. Edward had taken him out when it was possible and had not let him lift a finger.

He supposed if he looked back he should have seen Edward had been trying much too hard. 

Charles had been blinded by the sincereness Edward had shown.

Even now he was not expected to do the courting. Lorenzo had made it clear Alonso would be doing it all and providing a strong link to the Leclerc family.

Except now he could do it himself. He could court Max and prove to Lorenzo he was not being tricked by another man. He could show he was no longer a child and that he wanted to spend the rest of his life intertwined with love. Not with money or the promises of a comfortable life with a cold heart.

He could not live like that.

His papa had not taught him to live like that.

In fact, he had taught them all to not live to others' wishes. It was apparent Lorenzo had long ago forgotten that as he had grown.

“I suppose…He enjoys cooking. He talks highly of sharing meals and treats with his mother and sister…perhaps I could cook for him? Perhaps something from his home? He is Belgian…but I have no way of knowing what else they could make out there. I only know what Max has made. I  do not want to copy him and bore him.”

“Oh, do not worry about recipes, Charles. My mother is Belgian, you know? I grew up on the food myself, so I will source the recipes myself and I could even taste them if you wish, so you do not poison your future husband.” Lando followed the small jab with a giggle.

“Lord, do not say that! I am capable of learning!”

“Did you not burn a dish once?” Lando asked, eyebrows raised.

He neither had the opportunity to throw a pillow at Lando or curse as there was a knock on the door, interrupting their chat.

“Ah, it is most likely Charlotte, Charles would you mind? Knowing her she has her hands full and no way to open the door.”

With a quick nod he got off the bed and swung the door open, except it was not Charlotte.

It was not even a maid.

It was Max.

“Mr. Verstappen?” he voiced in slight surprise.

Lando perked up in the corner of his eye, a mischievous grin splitting across his face. “Max! Come in, we were just speaking of you!” 

Charles had to hold back glaring at the smaller boy.

It coaxed Max a few more steps into the room, but it did not seem like the man would be sticking around. “Unfortunately, I will have to decline your offer for today, Lando. I was hoping to speak with Mr. Leclerc, alone.”

Alone .

Surprised, he turned his head back towards Max, hoping to find any sort of sign of what it could be about, but Max’s face was blank. It reassembled the first few moments together that day in the ball.

It only seemed to please Lando more hearing those words. “Of course, of course, I could hardly keep Charles away from you. As long as he accepts speaking to you as well.”

Max finally turned to look at him properly, their eyes locking. His usual blue eyes looked stormy, grey even. He was restless, hands fiddling with the cuffs of his sleeves and seemed about ready to make a run for it. 

“We can speak,” he answered finally, silently willing his heart to remain calm.

Max nodded, gesturing to follow him.

Charles lingered back just a moment to send a hopeful look towards Lando before hurrying after the man who had apparently taken to longer strides, already across the hallway near the stairs. 

Oh, so this needed proper privacy.

He could not help but grimace as Max led them straight towards the piano room. A comical option as the last time they had been in this room, Max had fled it.

“I hope you do not plan on running off again,” Charles teased. An attempt to lessen the tension that enwrapped them once again. It seemed even thicker as they stepped into the room. The curtains had been drawn closed, a stark difference then a mere two hours ago when he had sat here. His bowl of fruit laid forgotten atop the piano. His fingertips skimmed the top of the piano.

“Mr. Leclerc, I wanted to offer my deepest apologies.”

Apologies?

Charles spun around that. Max had placed an impossible distance between them, his hands behind his back and his head bowed as if it would hurt to look him in the eyes.

“For?” He swallowed.

He could hear his heartbeat in his head.

“For leading you astray. I did not mean to confuse you, nor interrupt your season. It was selfish and I am offering my apologies for giving you hope.”

There was blood rushing in his ears. 

Charles could not help but scoff. “You are apologizing, but you can not even look me in the eye.”

He was not going to let Max do this like this. He was not going to allow them to be strangers just like simply because he wanted it to be so.

He was a fighter. He always fought.

Max would not win this. He would not let him run away.

He watched Max waver, his head peering up once before back down. “Mr. Leclerc, please, we can not.”

“We can not, or you will not?” he hissed out. “You say we can not, yet you kiss me. You say we can not, yet you cooked me food as if you cared and peeled oranges for me. You say we can not, yet when you touch me you can not seem to let go. Time and time again you accepted my company and you expect me to believe you did not mean for that to happen?” 

He was not yelling. He did not have the power to yell in this room. He did not want to attract any more attention. 

This was painful enough.

“I was wrong to do this. I should have left you be.”

Max still did not look at him.

Charles was not going to stand for this nonsense, as he drew closer. “Look at me and say you do not want me.”

An almost pained noise left Max, who raised his head but simply glanced at him before turning to look at the wall beside them. “ Charles , I cannot do this to you, please. Please accept my apology and perhaps we can move on from this.”

Move on.

It was not his first time hearing this from anyone, but it was the first time he knew he was not meant to move on. Max did not want to move on.

“Why? Why must we move on when we have done nothing but desire one another. We have done nothing wrong, Max.” His hands reached out without another thought, tugging Max’s arms from behind his back and grasping his hands between his own. They trembled in his hold and Charles wished he could hold him closer. Max carried so much fear and worry with him. It was heart-aching.

Max did not pull away from his grasp, gazing down at their joint hands. “Carlos spoke to me, Charles . I know he has told you why I am against marrying. I was foolish to even entertain the thought of you in any way. I could not allow my family’s name to tarnish your image. It is not fair to you. Anyone else could offer you stability and the respect you deserve.”

But that was not what he wanted.

“Max, did I ask for any of that nonsense? We barely spoke of what we want for our futures, how could you know what I seek out?”

“ Lieve , it is what you deserve, it does not matter if you seek it or not. You deserve it.”

There was a lot that he deserved. An apology from the universe for everything he had gone through would be the first, but nowhere on the list was apologies from Max.

“Take my name then!” Charles offered without a second thought, “We can marry under my name, it will not tarnish me by name and it will make it clear you do not want anything to do with your father.”

A look of anguish flashed across Max’s face, “Charles…I cannot and will not abandon my family like that. None of my step siblings are grown enough to carry the family business and my father will not live forever. I cannot abandon them to go off and marry and start a life of my own.” Max tugged his hands away from his own. “I thought at least you would understand the prospect of family…”

His hope faltered. 

“That—” Charles cut himself off taking a shaky breath, “I did not mean you must abandon your family. I thought you could create a name for yourself…” he continued weakly. “You could live for yourself. Provide for them without your father hounding you.”

“And give up everything I have worked for till now?”

Charles opened his mouth but faltered once more. He did not know what to say, nor did he know how to climb out of this hole he had pushed himself into. He had not meant to sound so cruel, so selfish. 

But in the end he was selfish. He was begging Max to be with him and abandon his family for a man he had only known for a few weeks.

Selfish .

Desperate. 

“I—I am sorry…I am sorry for suggesting something so selfish to you…” he managed out, his own gaze stuck on Max’s boots.

His heart felt caught in his throat. 

“It is alright, I was the one to lead you on. I gave you a false impression and that was no more selfish than what you said.”

For a second time, Charles looked as if he was losing this fight against Max. 

Was this how it was meant to be for him?

Charles took in a shaky breath. He had known this from the beginning. Lorenzo had made it clear this would never be easy from the beginning, but love was not known to be an easy thing. It was messy and complicated and somehow it involved the most pain in his life. 

Three times he had watched people slip through his fingers.

Jules. His father. His first love.

He could not let it happen for a fourth, for he feared there would be nothing left of his aching heart. 

“Will you not even give this a chance…?” he dared to whisper, glancing back up at Max’s face. 

There was a look of pity brushed across Max’s voice. His eyes carried a gentle look and a soft frown matched it. “I fear if we did, it would become something worse to step away from, lieve.”

Charles could not help as a whimper left his lips. A small gasp followed as he covered his mouth, attempting to will the tears away.

“Charles–” Max’s hands rose, trembling hands wanting to reach out for him, but Charles shook his head, turning away as he took shaky deep breaths.

“You will only fool my heart more if you attempt to comfort me,” he managed out bitterly as he pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes until he was seeing red. 

“There is—There is something else–...” Max attempted to explain again, and this time a laugh left Charles' lips. 

“What else is there to say?” he asked, turning back around, arms falling back down to his sides. “How long will you torture my heart?”

Max did not get a chance to explain as the door flew open behind the man and Charles' eyes widened as Lorenzo stood there in the doorway. 

His brother stood directly behind Max, who had not even turned at the sound of the voice or the door, as if he was expecting it.

It was silent for a moment, everyone processing the scene they had come across and Charles wondered if it would have been better to be the one dead at the moment.

“Merde. What on god's earth is going on here?” Lorenzo spoke first, his voice steady, but Charles could see his anger. His anger was clear from the way his eyebrow twitched, from the curled fists by his sides and the vein that appeared across his forehead.

He did not answer his brother, instead looking towards Max, who did not look surprised by his brother's appearance. 

Realization dawned on him a moment later. The letter from this morning. 

Max had done this. Max had brought his brother here.

Max had told Lorenzo something to get his brother to hurry here.

“Putain de merde!” The cruel words twisted out of his mouth. “You wrote to my brother?!”

Max remained unflinching as he looked at Charles. “It was the only way. You must go home, Charles .”

He could not believe this. He could not believe Max would go as far as writing to his brother to be rid of him. The rejection had hurt but this was worse. It felt as if his heart had been pulled out of his chest by Max himself and was squeezing it between his hands with little care.

“Who are you to decide that?! I was staying here for Lando, not you!” he exclaimed. “I did not decide to stay here so I could woo you, if that is what you think!?”

“Charles!”

He flinched at Lorenzo’s booming voice, his glare shifting to his brother. 

“Do not raise your voice. Speak like a gentleman.”

Charles scoffed, “And you are allowed?”

“I am your elder brother, Charles. It is my duty to keep you in line.”

Once again he found himself laughing, “T'as fait un boulot de merde jusqu'ici.”

This truly did feel like hysteria. Max had brought his brother here to bring him home like some sort of child. 

Lorenzo’s gaze hardened. “Ne pas créer de scène.”

“This is for the best, Charles,” Max interrupted, yet once again he could not even look him in the eye. 

Who was this the best for? His damned father?!

His misery, it turned out, was the best for everyone else. If he left Carlos’ home today he would be leaving behind his heart, his childhood and his freedom to love forever.

It had been all he had left.

He would be an empty shell but if that was what these people seeked from him, so be it.

“I am here to take you home, Charles. You have wasted enough time hiding out here. I was going to let you come home on your own, but it is clear not even Pierre can help keep you in line. Pack your things and please do not make this any more difficult. I have had a long day's trip. Now go.”

Lorenzo did not stay a moment longer, disappearing out of the room, steady footsteps disappearing into the distance no doubt off to explain to the Sainzes he had come to take his imbecile brother home.

The silence was like a knife's edge against his skin. Max remained unmoving, lost in his thoughts. 

Charles wondered if he felt guilt, but he was not going to ask.

“I was ready to fight for you, Max. I would have told Lorenzo right now that I wish to marry you and that I will.” One last admittance. “But it is clear you would rather run and—and I am tired, Max. I cannot keep fighting if you are against me as well.”

Silence.

He took a deep breath, “Take care of my heart, I did not have much left of it before I met you, so please care for it.” 

Knowing there would be no reply, he fled the room on shaking legs. His hands were balled into fists as he did his best to climb the stairs but at the top of them he paused, blurry eyes shifting from his bedroom and Lando’s bedroom door.

His mind screamed at him for comfort. To find some sort of relief from the pain that was lodged between his ribs. He almost wanted to pry them apart with his bare hands to relieve it. 

Charles’ shaking legs however did not even manage to get him that far. They buckled a few steps away, hands hitting the ground with a thud with his knees. The pain did not even register as he pushed his back against the wall, hands grasping at his too many layers of clothing.

Nothing felt right. It was too warm, his chest felt like it was going to explode and his ears were ringing.

His fall must have been louder than he had thought. Sudden light was filling the hallway as Lando’s bedroom door opened. His eyesight was a blur from his tears as he held himself. 

There was a faint gasp and suddenly hands on him. 

Lando.

He recognized blurry curls, concerned eyes and the gentle hands on him.

“Charles? Charles? What’s wrong? Can you not breathe?” Lando’s voice was panic-filled, but he could find his voice to work as a sob left his lips instead.

He could not even find the will to ask how Lando had limped his way out of his bedroom.

All he managed to do was cling onto Lando, a hand fisted into his friend's shirt as he sobbed, tears flooding down his cheeks. He flinched as Lando began yelling for Carlos and Pierre, words blurred together as he cried and shook in his arms. 

All he had wanted was to be happy. Why couldn't he be happy?

More hands appeared, Charles recognized Pierre through his sobs and Carlos hovering over them in concern.

“Charles? Lando? Que s'est-il passé?” But even Pierre provided no comfort. It did not ease the pain in his ribs. It did not ease his misery.

He pressed himself closer to Lando, desperate for this horrible feeling to leave him. For the aching feeling in his heart to finally stop

“Charles, chéri, parle-moi s'il te plaît.” 

The sobs kept coming until there were no tears left to cry. His throat and face ached, his eyes stung as it all came to an end. He remained half dazed, slumped against Lando while Pierre held his hands tightly between his own. 

Was it possible to die from heartbreak?   

That’s what this felt like.

Charles did not remember how he got into a bed, nor could he keep track of the different voices around him. He could not even manage a word himself as he pressed his face into a pillow and hoped for sleep to take him quickly. 

For once the universe did pity him. 

He awoke to a darkened room, nothing aside from the glow of a lantern perched on the mantle of the unlit fireplace. There was a heavy weight around his middle as well.

His eyes felt swollen as he blinked blearily up at the canopy. A canopy that did not belong to his own bedroom. It belonged to Carlos and Lando’s room. 

It was confirmed as he turned his head to find Lando curled up next to him, his arm thrown over his stomach, hand curled protectively into his shirt. His curls were a mess across his head, a patch of drool on the pillow and his eyebrows furrowed as he slept. The other always made him as small as possible as he slept. He recalled the sleeping troubles he had once spoken of. Guilt swirled in his chest. He had kept Carlos away from him. 

They should have taken him to his own bedroom. 

He twisted his head to the other side and found Pierre who had fallen asleep sitting up it seemed. More guilt swirled in his stomach. 

He had troubled so many. 

Why was this the only thing he was capable of? Troubling the people he loved simply because he could not have what he wanted. 

Selfish. 

Slowly, careful of the sleeping boy next to him, he sat up in the bed. The sheets were a mess. Lando and him had slept curled up on the left, tangled in all the material, the right side bare. 

He glanced around the room and that was when the other figures came to view. Carlos was slumped in a chair closest to Lando, fast asleep still. It did not look comfortable at all. His eyes tracked Carlo’s hand laying limply on Lando’s covered leg. 

Love.

Lorenzo laid asleep on the sofa tucked against one corner of the room. A blanket had been pulled over him, but half of it remained on the ground. 

The ugly feeling in his chest, however, had not dispersed even as he slept. 

It remained hollow and empty. 

He had left what remained of his heart in Max’s hands and now Lorenzo would be taking home as soon as he awoke he was sure of it. 

At least in this way he would not have to marry someone else with an aching heart. 

It was easier like this. 

Charles collapsed back down against the pillows, a deep sigh leaving his lips. Next to him Lando shifted in his sleep, shuffling closer to him. 

A faint smile managed to appear on his face at the sight of the smaller boy.  He owed Lando an apology once he awoke. He hoped he had not agitated his injury whilst coming to see what had happened. 

Sleep, to his misfortune, did not come to him a second time. He was forced to lay there in bed, blinking up at the ceiling as his thoughts overwhelmed and listening to Lando sleep soundly next to him.

Eventually he decided there was no point in occupying his friend's bed any longer. Slowly, he untangled himself the sheets, careful to not uncover Lando as he stepped onto the floor, the floor frozen under his bare feet. He was quietly thankful for how deeply Pierre slept. Carefully, he rounded the bed, pausing by Carlos’ slumbering body. On one hand he wanted to awaken his friend, but he knew if he awoke Carlos the other man would not let him leave, not after a night like that. So he decided against it, instead brushing a few strands of hair out of his eyes, and slipped through the doors.

The hallway was much darker than the dimly lit room, outside a steady patter of rain had begun. He could hear the raindrops against the windows. 

The intention had been to go to his room and attempt to pack his things to distract himself, but he found himself pausing by the staircase. There was a light emitting from one of the drawing rooms. 

He found himself drawn towards the room, it was not like he had a lack of time this early in the morning.

It was Victoria.

She sat solemnly by the window, seemingly watching the raindrops hit the glass panes. The exhausted part of him wanted to turn back around and go hide in his bedroom as he had hoped, but the worried part of him wanted to be sure she was alright.

There was little chance Victoria did not know what had happened. Max seemed close with his sister and with only each other to confide with; he was sure he must have spoken to her.

“Ms. Verstappen?” he called out softly, stepping inside the room but remaining close to the door in case she didn’t seem to want his company, but there was a soft smile on her face as she turned to look at him.

“Mr. Leclerc! Should you not be sleeping?” 

There was clear tiredness in her eyes, her head leaning back against the wall. 

“I could say the same for you.” Charles drew closer until he was standing near the window as well, watching raindrops race down across the glass. 

His own face had matched the window a few hours ago with his tears. 

Victoria smiled once more, but it was sadder, the edges of her mouth curving downwards quickly. “My brother fell asleep in my bedroom, I did not want to disturb him so I came down here to see if the silence could ease my mind.”

Oh.

Max had gone to seek comfort from his sister, so he had been right.

Charles nodded, lips pressed together in a thin line as he sat across from her on the windows ledge. It was silent, but he could feel Victoria’s piercing eyes on him with every second that ticked by.

“My brother is not a mean man you know?” 

There it was.

“He does not mean to hurt you or cause you distress. In fact, it is what he wants the least for you, Mr. Leclerc.”

Out of habit he found his eyes shutting as he listened to her speak. 

“He simply—he simply does not believe he deserves anyone. Sometimes even I am convinced he believes he is just like our father. He believes he is an ill-tempered man who does not care for anyone but his work, but he is not that. I am sure you know this by now, Mr. Leclerc. Granted, he has been extra careful during our stay here, he does not want to tarnish my image and make it difficult for me to find someone to marry, but he is kind and selfless and he deserves to be happy as well, but I fear he does not know how to seek out the source of happiness.”

Maybe he had entered this room knowing Victoria would speak on behalf of Max, that she would reveal what on god's earth he had been thinking, calling Lorenzo here and saying they could not be anything more.

Maybe he was still pathetically searching for an ounce of hope.

Charles knew all this. Max was nothing like this father they spoke of. Carlos was proof enough of it, as he seemed to care for Max so dearly. 

What he did not know was how to show Max that he was not like his father. 

“I do not know how to make him understand and he did not give me much time to do so either. My brother will not leave here without me after what he has witnessed, and in a few months time he will be marrying me off. Max has made this impossible, just as he wanted.”

Victoria’s hand reached out for his own, grasping it firmly between her own two. “Please, I will make him understand, Mr. Leclerc, but you, you can not give up. Please, that is all I ask of you. Do not give up, do not let your brother win and let Max come to you. He will realize.”

His mind was screaming no at him. Not again. He could not create hope again. 

There was desperation in Victoria’s eyes as she clutched his hand. Desperation from a sister who loved her brother dearly. 

What difference would it be if Max never came to him? His heart would remain with that man and Charles would get married as his family wanted. 

The hole in his chest would remain as empty then as it would be now.

He would not be torn apart the same.

Perhaps the last of sanity would be taken waiting for Max to show up.

“Okay, if he comes I will let him try to fix this, but—but I cannot hold off my family forever.”

He would not let Max make this easy to fix either. There was still anger burning low in his chest from him bringing Lorenzo here to take him home. He would make Max work for his affections as he had nothing more to give him. His fight was gone. He was tired.

“Thank you…” Victoria rushed out, a smile breaking out her face as she pulled him closer and embraced him tightly, “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I promise you, you will not have to wait for long. He will come to his senses, Mr. Leclerc.”

Charles managed a smile for the young lady as they pulled away. “You should rest now, Ms. Verstappen. I can arrange to find a bedroom for you, if you’d like?” he offered.

Victoria shook her head, “I will find my way, do not worry about me. You rest as well I am sure Lord Leclerc will want an early start from what I have overheard.”

Overheard. How lovely. “I am sorry if he said anything cruel about Max. Lorenzo has not had his head too straight lately.”

She shook her head, waving it off, “He simply worries for his brother, I understand. I think Max would have had strong words if he caught me with a man or woman alone as well.”

They exchanged farewells and Charles left the room feeling no better than earlier. He had thought Victoria’s words would have settled his despair, but they had not. It seemed like he had no hope to even let it grow in his mind. 

He began packing in a daze, picking up items of clothing and the few belongings he had in the small luggage bag he had brought. There was not much to pack and he was careful not to pack the things Pierre had left around. He did not even know if Pierre was heading back with them. He had said he was here until Charles married, but he was not going to keep the man hostage by his side. 

He was pulled out of his own mind as he came across Max’s coat. His hands latched onto the fabric without thought, but he realized before placing it in the luggage. 

Max had not mentioned that coat since that day, and it was most likely that Max had many more coats brought with him and this was a meager article of clothing he could care less for. 

It was possible he did not even remember bringing this dark blue coat, but for Charles it was ingrained in his mind. 

Selfishness is not always a terrible thing, Charles.

Max had said those words to him a mere two days ago. 

In his final act of selfishness, he stuffed the coat on top of the rest of the things and did the clasps.

If Max was to take the last of his heart, he could take this coat. His damned coat.

His eyesight began to blur with tears the longer he started down at his luggage. Tears silently ran down his cheeks as he took in a shaky breath, wiping them away with the back of his hand only for them to be replaced with fresh ones.

What a child he was, standing here crying as if he had not placed himself in this situation. He longed for comfort from people he could never see again. He longed for love he could not have. He made promises with others that only deepened the ache that went to the very core of his soul.

He was taking a coat from a man who did not even remember it to enact some sort of pathetic revenge and in a few months time he would be marrying a rich old man to assure his family name will have a stable link connected to it if anything ever went wrong. 

On the edge of the desk, rested the copy of Emma his father had given him before the sickness had taken its toll. It was one of his most important memories. How his father had thought of him even whilst he was ill. He had thought of them all. Arthur and Lorenzo had been given their own presents. His father had never once thought of himself. He had always been a giving man.

He had given and given and given until his last breath.

Charles had foolishly done the same. He had given his heart to so many so quickly and he was nowhere near his final breath. 

He waited for the sunrise wide awake, placing himself in the middle of his bed, arms wrapped around himself. He was no longer tired but he lacked the energy of doing anything else. Besides, his packing was done and it would be a trip home now. There was nothing else left to do. 

The sun rose as he sat there, he had assumed he had a couple more hours until everyone awoke properly, but as the sun set itself in the sky there was a frantic knocking at the door and it was swinging open. 

Carlos stood in the doorway, wide eyed and a little out of breath. 

“Did you run here?” Charles asked quizzically.

“God, Charles—Why did you leave? You gave Lando a heart attack, he can’t even move. Why didn’t you stay in the room? Why are you just sitting here? Are you alright?” 

“I'm fine. I woke up so I came to pack my things up, I assume my brother will want to leave as soon as he is awake.” He looked away from Carlos, eyes focused back on the wall opposite of his bed. 

“Charles…” Carlos’ tone was pitiful, “I am sorry, for all this. I truly would have supported you.” 

That was just the problem. They had support from those around them but Max had not even wanted to try, and here he had gone and promised his sister to keep hope. 

To let the hole in his chest grow bigger.

He shook his head. “Is Lorenzo awake?” He got off the bed, heading to the corner where the luggage had been placed, pulling his coat on. 

“No, he is not. Do you want me to send for breakfast?”

“No. I am going to wake Lorenzo up and ask him to take me home, now.”

“Charles—but…but I could speak to him, perhaps Lorenzo could see that Max is not his father.” 

“He won’t.” It was the plain and simple truth. Lorenzo would not understand and Max would do nothing to make him understand. 

Fighting along was another pathetic sight. Another desperate move. 

“Charles—“

“Carlos! Please! Just stop. Stop it. There is nothing there. Max does not wish to have anything to do with me and that is fine. I will see you at the balls or perhaps you should visit with Lando, otherwise I will see you at my wedding in a few months.” 

He left no room for Carlos to argue or bring up any more smart ideas. He simply gave him a pointed look and he gave in with a frown creasing his eyebrows.  

Quietly, he gathered the last of his things and dragged them out into the hall where he found Pierre standing with his own bags. 

Charles frowned, “You do not need to leave with us. I know Carlos and you have been speaking of your businesses, you can stay.” 

He didn’t want to cause more trouble.

The words he had said to Max were still stuck in his mind. Selfishly asking the man to leave his family behind. 

“You are a fool if you believe I’ll let you go anywhere without me, cheri. As lovely as Carlos and Lando are, I am afraid if I stay here any longer my teeth will start to rot.” 

A small smile escaped him at the joke.

“Bastard,” Carlos muttered from behind him, but he could hear the smile on his face. 

“And besides, I’m sure Lando wants him alone already. Now come on, I sent your brother downstairs. Let's say goodbye to Lando and we’ll be home in a few hours.”

Home.

Home where he would have to face Lorenzo and no doubt his mothers. 

Pierre did not let him wallow long, linking their arms together as he herded him down the hallway back towards Carlos’ bedroom.

They left before anyone else awoke. He did not know to what extent Lord and Lady Sainz had been informed of the last days’ events, but he did not feel brave enough to face them, especially not with Lorenzo’s disappointment radiating off him. He did not need more disappointed eyes looking upon him. 

Nor did he want to say goodbye to Max and Victoria, though he had a feeling Max expected him to be gone by the time he emerged from his bedroom. 

“I will see you soon,” Carlos assured him as they watched Pierre and Lorenzo speak with the carriage drivers. They seemed to be at a disagreement about something, which meant the tension would be suffocating on the way home.

Charles nodded, lips pressed into a fine line, “Will you tell him goodbye for me?” His voice fell into a whisper as he spoke, glancing at his brother and then towards Carlos.

“Of course, is there anything more you would like for me to say?”

There was an endless list of words he wanted to say to Max, half of what he would never repeat to Carlos and the other half involved French words Carlos would never be able to wrap his head around. “Goodbye is enough, I have nothing more to give.”

Except it seemed that there was one last surprise for him before he left.

“Wait!” There was a shout as the doors swung open to reveal Victoria hurrying down the steps at full speed, her skirts bunched up in her hands so she survived the run towards them.

“Ms. Verstappen!” A lone maid cried out at the top of the steps, looking almost as frazzled as Victoria looked. 

Victoria did not slow down either, barreling into Charles and nearly sending them both to the ground.

“Ms. Verstappen?” he cried out, confused, but held her back as tightly as she was clinging to him.

The embrace, however, did not last long, Victoria pulling back and taking his hands in her own. “Take care of yourself, Mr. Leclerc, I will see you very soon.”

The confusion only grew as he felt something being pressed into the palm of his hand and Victoria curled his fingers over top. “Take care of it.” The words were almost too quiet to hear. His hands were squeezed and she was already retreating back up the stairs, towards the poor maid who was wrapping a coat around her shoulders.

“Well, at least his sister still seems fond of you,” Carlos murmured by his side.

He did not open his hand until they were settled in the carriage. Lorenzo had opted to sit up with the carriage driver and Pierre had dozed off.

Slowly he uncurled his hand only to reveal a gold chain and pendant.

The same pendant Max had shown him in the kitchen. His mother’s pendant.

The ache in his chest grew at the sight of it.

“Merde…” he whispered to himself, shrinking back into his seat.

Max Verstappen was out to kill him.

Chapter Text

“Inside me, something seethes. Inside me, some feral animal claws at my ribcage, trapped.”

The canopy over his bed has been the same since he was a child. 

His nursery had been in this room. He remembered when he was young he preferred sleeping with Lorenzo or his parents. He remembered the large unused bed in his bedroom. How daunting it had seemed, how he could barely climb onto it without help.

The golden canopy over the bed had seemed magical at that time. When the sunlight would hit it would almost glow. A doorway to another world, as his papa had called it.

He remembered sitting on his father’s lap late in the evenings where he would tell him stories. How the canopy led them into a world filled with magic and that Charles could wish for anything and it would come true in the world.

He remembered when Lorenzo told him if he made too many wishes, creatures would find their way into their world and wreak havoc in their home. That they seeked payment for everything Charles had wished for and that they did not like greedy little boys. They were equally as greedy wanting their payment.

It had left Charles more frightened than his brother had realized.

He remembered the first night he had slept in it, he had wept and wept after his parents had insisted he learn to sleep alone. 

He fell asleep crying, hidden under the covers.

The next morning he had wept about the creatures that would come and take him to the other world. Sobbing into his mother’s dress as his parents had blinked at each other clueless about the creatures he cried of. Lorenzo had eventually sheepishly apologized, saying he had not meant to frighten Charles as much as he had. 

His mother had scolded Lorenzo whilst his father had explained that that was what older brothers did. 

When Arthur had been young he and Lorenzo had plotted together to create a story to frighten him with, but of course Arthur had been a daredevil since the moment he could take his first steps. He had attempted to climb his bedpost, paper sword in hand, insisting he could fight the creatures that would come to take him away.

Their mother had found him, hanging by one arm, waving his sword. She had screamed so loud, she had alerted half the staff. 

She had always hated seeing any of them get hurt and Arthur had been small as a child, the opposite of how he was now.

In a moment like this he wondered if the creatures had found a way into their world afterall. That one of them had clawed his way into his ribs, pried them open and created a home there, still seeking payment for all Charles had wished for. 

That perhaps that was why he was so desperate. Why his heart was never fulfilled.

He wondered if Max could have been the one to ease the hunger finally.

Not that he would ever know now.

His bedroom had become his safest place. He had mourned countless times here. He had cried most of his tears in this bed. He had cradled the pieces of his heart here and put them back together the best he could. Never enough to stop the bleed, but well enough to leave it a simple ache behind. 

He wondered if Max would care for the remains of it. 

His mother had taken to coming into his bedroom every two hours to check up on him.

She would march in and pull his curtains apart, lecturing him on if he did not want to leave his bed he at least could keep the curtains open. She would then let him rest his head in her lap as she threaded her fingers through his hair like she used to when he was a child.

Charles did not know how much Lorenzo had told her, not even if he had said anything at all. Charles had said nothing. He did not know what to say. It was not as if Max had asked him to wait or admitted to wanting him. Was he supposed to tell his mother he had fallen in love with a man who did not love him again?

He could not disappoint her again.

She would hum a different song each time, between stories of when he had been young.

She would leave again once it was clear Charles would not be speaking nor would he be leaving his bedroom.

There was a growing pile of half picked at plates on his bedside table. 

He had no appetite. 

Heartbreak took it from him each time.

Pierre would also visit, less than his mother but still enough to be a nuisance, often accompanied by Arthur. 

For them he spoke. It was mainly for Arthur, not wanting his younger brother to worry for him. He would laugh at Arthur’s jokes and listen to his stories of what games he had won today or what he had gone to do in town. He would watch Arthur’s face fall as he would reject another request to go out to town with him. Arthur was always quick to hide it, nodding his head and not fighting it.

The guilt worsened.

“Charles, you cannot stay in here forever.”

The curtains were pushed to the sides with much more force, the sunlight blinding him as he shrunk beneath his bedsheets, eyes squinted to accommodate the sudden light.

It was Lorenzo this time, not his mother. 

It had been two days since they had arrived home. It seemed like the third day was enough for Lorenzo.

“I have given you more than enough time to hide yourself in your bedroom, now get up.” His tone was firm. It was filled with annoyance and anger and frustration.

It made him want to stay in bed knowing Lorenzo was losing his mind.

Perhaps he could feel how Charles felt for most of his life. 

“Charles.”

“Charles, I will not repeat myself again.” 

“Leave.” He continued to bury himself in his bed, half of him wishing he could disappear into it. 

Lorezno let out a frustrated sigh and in one quick movement his bedding was removed from atop him.

Charles scowled, sitting up, “ Putain, leave me alone, Lorenzo.”

“The faster you occupy yourself the faster you will forget about him.”

He was surprised his brother was even acknowledging what had happened at the Sainz’ estate. He had been sure Lorenzo would simply pretend Max never existed, but here he was bringing him up. 

“Are you suggesting I whore myself out?”

“What–? Mon dieu, Charles, what are you on about?”

“That is what you mean, non? To go to the balls and flirt with men and see who will take me or I am sure Lord Alonso will be happy to take me as his prize if he offers a high enough number for you,” he spat out.

The crease between his brother's eyebrows seemed to grow deeper. “Charles, you will be marrying, this is not a negotiation. You will not always be young and pretty to get away with anything. I am doing this for your future. You will regret not marrying when you are older.”

“And why are you deciding my future?” he hissed out, slipping off his bed and padding forward until he was standing in front of his brother. 

He towered over him slightly, not that the height advantage had ever made Charles feel any braver.

“Why can I not choose who I want to marry? It is my life Lorenzo, I do not want to spend it with a man I cannot love or who doesn't love me.” 

There was a lot he expected from Lorenzo from his outburst, but it was not laughter. His brother broke out into a laugh, scoffing as he shook his head.”Did you not already try that, Charles? Did you not see how love can not even be enough?! Edward left you, non? He did not even love you enough to hold your hand whilst papa breathed his last breath. He left you broken and you are telling me you still want to marry for love? Edward never loved you and who can say Verstappen will love you forever? Love, Charles, it does not last.”

At some point they had begun screaming. Lorenzo’s voice echoed in his room. In his mind. In his ribs.

It does not last.

Edward never loved you.

Who can say Verstappen will love you forever?

Charles was silent, his anger melting into anguish. The creature in his ribs was clawing at his chest again. 

The cruel reality his brother never let him forget. How Edward had tricked him into thinking what they had was love. That they would marry and have a life together.

“How can you say that when you saw how much maman and papa loved each other? Maman still loves him so dearly. How can you say love does not last?”

It was a weak protest. Their parents' love was a subject they did not touch often not since their papa had passed.

“ Mon dieu , Charles, why can you not understand that love will not gain you a happy life!? Love is nothing, love will get you nowhere. Verstappen will never give you a stable life! Do you want to struggle for the rest of your life? Do you want to suffer? Do you want maman to have to live in society knowing her son went and married some dutch bastard? If you loved maman or this family you would agree to marry who I have carefully picked out for you! But no, you continue to complain like a selfish little child! You talk of love but you cannot even love your own family! Putain , Charles, why do you not understand?!” Lorenzo was practically shouting by the end of it. 

His voice rang in his ears.

“You doomed Jules with your selfish decisions, do you wish to bring more harm to this family?!”

Charles was not sure if he had frozen from shock or fear. 

His mind could not come up with any words as he tried to register what Lorenzo had screamed at him as the man himself stood there, chest heaving from the yelling. 

Out in the hallway there were urgent footsteps. 

“Boys?! What on earth are you yelling about?” Pascale exclaimed wide eyed, Arthur wore a matching expression standing directly behind her. 

“Nothing, maman, go back down. Charles and I were discussing how he cannot just lie here for the rest of his life.”

Lorenzo could not even admit to what he had said.

“A discussion so loud you have half the staff murmuring about it!” Pascale scolded, “Do you not know how to speak kindly to one another? Stop yelling at each other right this instant. Charles? Mon coeur, are you alright?” 

A sick feeling had spread throughout him. 

Lorenzo blamed him?

How long had Lorenzo blamed him?

“ Mon coeur?”

Charles pulled himself out of his mind for a moment. Teary eyes focused on Lorenzo. “If I am that much of a burden to you, should marrying Verstappen not be better? You could cut ties with me forever. Forget you had a second brother. A third son. You could have Arthur marry well and I would not be a hurdle for you.”

“Charles? What are you speaking about?” Pascale asked urgently, stepping further into the room. 

Lorenzo shifted, eyes darting between his and their mothers. “Maman, please. He does not understand that not everyone can marry for love. Verstappen would not be able to give him a good life.”

“We both know that is not what this is about!” Charles choked out, tears falling down his face freely now. He had lost count of how many times he had cried in the past days. It seemed like this pain was never ending. Problem after problem arising and things he could not have ever imagined were being brought up.

He had not realized he had been this much of a burden to everyone.

“I—,” Lorenzo had half the audacity to look guilty of what he had said, “Charles I did not mean that. It slipped from my mouth. I was just angry—”

“But you said it! The fact that you said it says somewhere in your mind you have always thought of that. Do you not think I feel the same? Do you think I do not know that? Do not you not think I laid awake for months on months letting the guilt eat away at my heart? I know Jules went out there to find me. I know it was my fault he went out on horse in a storm to find me and Arthur! I know I was the one who led him into danger! Do you not think I feel guilt?!” His own throat had begun to ache between the sobs he choked back between the words. 

It seemed as if every word was twisted with a cry. 

“Charles—” Lorenzo took a small step towards him.

“No! Do not. Just do not—,” he raised his hands, keeping the distance between them, “If you had thought this for so long, I understand now why you do not think I should marry for love. It is a form of punishment, no? If Jules could not live a happy long life, why should I?”

“Jules—? Enzo, what is he talking about, what has happened?” his mother continued to ask, clueless of what Lorenzo had accused him of. He was not sure if he could even repeat something like this to her. It felt wrong. He did not even know how to word it.

Lorenzo struggled for words in front of him. It had seemed like he had used all his energy on what he had deemed to be the truth for years.

He was almost thankful he had left the last of his heart with Max. He was not sure if it would have survived this. It would have crumbled into brittle dust in his chest. The last of it for the creature inside of him to feed off. Perhaps it would have been enough to satisfy it for years.

“Enzo—” It was Arthur who spoke up, stepping into the room to stand next to their mother, “You cannot be blaming Charles for that night, surely? It was not—Charles did not wish for the rain to come nor did he know the horse would frighten like that. No one would have been able to predict such an accident.”

“Arthur, putain , I did not mean for—I did not mean to blame, Charles, I just needed for him to understand—”

“Understand what? That you blame him for something that none of us could have known? Do you blame me as well then? I had also left with Charles?”

“Of course not—”

“Then why, Charles? I was just as guilty of what he did. I did not want to be alone so I went with him. Jules was searching for the both of us, non?”

At times  he had forgotten how much Arthur had grown over the years. How much he had grown since that night. 

Lorenzo had nothing more to say. His brother’s mouth fell shut as he stared between the two of them in silence. 

There was nothing more to say. In the end Lorenzo had said what he had wanted for years and there was no going back from this. 

“Lord, how am I meant to do this alone,” Pascale murmured from her own spot. “Your papa would have never let you all fight like this.”

Guilty swirled in Charles’ stomach as he looked at his distressed mother. He had promised to never worry her again and it was all he was capable of. 

“Je suis désolée, maman.” Lorenzo’s words were nearly a whisper, head bowed slightly. 

“I do not think I am the one who you should be apologizing to, Lorenzo. I raised you better than this. You are supposed to be the one leading our family. We cannot turn our backs on our own. He is your brother, mon amour. How could you accuse your own brother of such a cruel act? That night was awful, but it was an accident.”

Lorenzo turned to him next, eyes lowered still. “I am sorry, Charles. I really am, I know you had not meant for any of it to happen. It was cruel of me to blame you.”

There was a part of him that screamed to not forgive him, that Lorenzo had been nothing but unfair with him, but there was another part of him that thought of mother first. She had lost her husband already, she could watch her family fall apart once more. 

Charles managed a nod, “It is fine. We were both angry.”

Outwardly, he could accept it. 

Pascale smiled softly, approaching Lorenzo first and pressed a kiss to the side of his head. “We are family, boys. Do not forget that, we can not turn our backs on each other.”

She approached him next, pressing a kiss to the top of his head as well as Arthur’s. 

Charles wondered if she was not so heartbroken she would have noticed he had not accepted the apology. He wondered if she was not so sad she would have noticed her family was slowly fraying at the end.

She had not even said one word to support Charles marrying for love nor noticed how Lorenzo’s anger was still there, simmering under his skin. 

This was not the last screaming match they would be having.

Perhaps it was better this way though, she was protecting herself by not looking too closely at the lines. 

At least Arthur was able to keep it together for her. 

“I’ll help you to your room, maman,” Arthur spoke softly, taking her arm in his own as he led her out, glancing back once before leaving.

 That left two, leaving him alone with Lorenzo who continued to stand there, silent.

“You can leave, I do not think maman expects you to coddle me until I feel better,” Charles muttered, turning away to pick up the blankets and sheets Lorenzo had pulled off of him.

Lorenzo made no effort in apologizing again or staying longer, swiftly leaving the room, the door shutting behind him with a thud. 

Charles was alone once again. 

He had never thought he would prefer being alone, but here he was dreading any of his family to come back into his bedroom. 

He knew when Pierre would return it would be a second disaster. Another eruption of anger and arguments. 

All because of him. 

Because he was selfish.

Selfish .

The words echoed in his mind over and over again as he had crawled back into bed and remained there for hours. No one had dared come into his bedroom, aside from a lone maid who had brought his dinner. 

He had picked at it, tearing apart the meal and eating bits and pieces. 

He had not known how fractured their family truly was until now. Their father truly had been the glue keeping everything together. 

Charles had once thought he could keep everyone together, that he could take after his papa but instead he was the cause of the fraying. The reason Lorenzo could not stand to be around him, the reason now he and Arthur would not be speaking, the reason their mother worried about whether or not their family would survive this. 

He was nothing like their father.

Foolishly, he thought about how it would have not been awful to move all the way to Belgium. To keep his family from falling apart. But even Max did not want him. 

He stared down at the torn apart bed on his plate. The last of his appetite gone as he shoved the tray away, eyes glancing towards the pillow to his left. 

The pendant had been under it for the past three days. It felt painful to wear it, but it felt worse to part from it. He did not even know what Victoria had meant giving it to him. Had she meant for him to wear it? It was her mother’s necklace. It felt wrong to wear it. Max had clearly cherished it, but somehow she had gotten her hands on it. 

Had Max known? Had she asked? 

Would this somehow bring Max knocking on his door asking for it back and Victoria had thought that would be enough to convince Max to marry him?

Slowly he lifted the pillow, peaking at the necklace hidden under there. It remained untouched, balled up just as he had placed it. 

He had two pieces of Max with him, his coat still tucked away in his luggage. He had not unpacked still, nor had he let the maids unpack for him. He did not want them washing it by mistake and putting it away somewhere he could not find it. 

It was ridiculous how attached he had grown with the little time they had spent together. It had felt beyond right and he had felt that he could spend the rest of his life with Max. 

There was a knock against the door and Charles quickly dropped the pillow back down, whipping towards the door only to find Pierre poking his head inside. 

At least he had Pierre.

“Lorenzo is having a meltdown out in the foyer,” Pierre announced as he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him and a bag in hand. 

Charles sighed, pulling a pillow up over his face, “And I am the child…” he muttered out bitterly.

“You did not eat again.” Pierre pointed out and Charles could practically hear the frown on his face. He should have asked someone to take his dishes.

“I have no appetite.”

“Calamar…” Pierre voiced, clear worry in his voice but Charles could not find it in him to put him at ease, not when he felt as if he had been torn apart yet again.

“I cannot, Pierre…” He repeated as Pierre pulled the pillow off his face to let him see his frowning face. “My stomach turns at the mere mention of food, I cannot.”

“You’ll fall sick like this, do you want to be ill when Max comes for you?”

He let out a bitter laugh, looking away from Pierre to his windows. Outside the clouds had gone gray again. A common theme since he had arrived back home, as if the weather wanted to match his devastation. “Did he say he will come?”

“Charles…”

“It is funny, no? Lord Leclerc goes on and on about how love is nothing, that Max could never love me. That love is not enough for me to have a stable life. That following my heart has been humiliating enough for the family and here you are convincing me Max will come for me. That he will confess his love and marry me and all will be well.”

Nothing would ever be well again. 

Unwanted from both sides.

It felt ridiculous. How did he belong nowhere?

“Is that what he said just now?” Pierre asked, settling down on the empty side of the bed. Charles could not help but shift over, resting his head on Pierre’s thigh. Hands weaved through his hair, putting some ease to his mind for the moment.

“He does not understand why I am lying here. He does not understand it is because of him and Max and maman and papa. He does not understand how it is to mend a broken heart, yet he has had his own heart shattered just the same.” 

Would Lorenzo ever understand? Would this be how their family ends? Fractured relationships. Their maman clueless to it all. Arthur left alone at the most important time of his life. 

“He—” Charles paused, hating how tears already threatened to spill down his cheeks at the thought of reliving Lorenzo’s words. “He blames me, Pierre…” The words left his lips in a whisper. 

Pierre’s hands stilled in his hair for a moment. “For what, Cha’.”

It was possible Lorenzo blamed him for endless things but Charles was sure he would have been able to take the blame for anything else. He would have been able to survive, but this? This felt beyond anything he could have survived. 

“Jules… He blamed me for Jules. He said my selfish—my selfish actions doomed him.” His eyes had fallen shut, squeezed tight at the painful statement. 

Pierre’s hands disappeared from his hair. “Ce salaud.”

Before he could even think to go do something hasty in his anger, Charles scrambled up, grabbing a hold of Pierre’s hands, “And–And I know he went after me and Arthur that night—I…I know it is half my fault but it is as if he blamed me entirely…and god, Pierre who knows how long he has blamed me? No wonder he wants to be rid of me…I–I never thought it would be like this—perhaps it was not as obvious when papa was around, Enzo did not have to worry about handling my future and it was not his problem but now? Now it is and he wants to be rid of me…”

“Charles, oh Charles.” Pierre’s hands moved up to cup his face. “Do not. Do not take all this blame onto yourself, not after all these years. You have just begun to heal, don’t let Enzo ruin all of your healing with his selfish conclusions.”

It was so hard not to let all of this ruin him. One thing after the other was being piled onto him. 

What happy thing did he have to concentrate on?

All he could do was manage a nod before resting his forehead against Pierre’s shoulder. “I am just so tired…” Charles whispered, eyes squeezed closed, “When will this all end, Pear? I just want a moment of peace.”

“I wish I could tell you, Charles, I really wish I could.”

-

The days passed by slowly. It felt even slower as Lorenzo had vanished, no longer coming to complain about Charles locking himself away, though he had forced himself out of his bedroom anyways. It was not as if he went out, not wanting to face society and talk of the season. He stuck to drifting through rooms as if he was some sort of ghost. Pierre and Arthur attempted countless times to accompany him out but he couldn’t do it. Not in his current state. Instead he’d have tea with them, or most times it was with his mother.

She never saw anything amiss with his new behavior. 

“Charles?”

He lifted his head at the call of his name, ungluing his eyes from the window to find his mother standing in the entryway of the sitting room. “Yes, maman?” 

She was frowning, corners of her mouth downturned and wrinkles by her eyes. 

For a moment Charles had thought he had down something, but wrong had he done sitting around at home?

“You have not played since you have come home, mon coeur, do you not enjoy playing piano?”

Charles blinked. He had not expected that. 

Playing had not come across his mind since he had arrived back home. His mind had been too busy eating away at itself to even consider playing and here was his mother asking why he did not play.

“I–I have not felt like playing…” He answered carefully, eyes drifting towards the piano set in the corner of the room.

Or perhaps he was waiting for someone to ask him, he had come and sat in the same room as it after all. 

Somewhere in his mind he longed to play.

His mother didn’t seem satisfied with his answer either. She tsked, shaking her head as she drew closer and pulled him up out of the armchair he had curled up into. “Come, play something for me, it is the least you can do after worrying my heart.”

Charles let himself be dragged towards the piano, let himself be urged into sitting, his mother taking her seat next to him as well.

For a moment he was frozen, staring down at the keys, his hands placed in his lap. 

Their own piano was not as grand as the Sainzes’ but it was something he had owned since his childhood. Since he had told his father he enjoyed playing and not dancing. His father had ordered it to be made the very next day and it had been here since then.

Its age had begun to show, there were scuff marks and wood chipping from it being moved from room to room because Charles never found it satisfactory to play in the same room over and over again. Lorenzo and his father were always tasked to move his precious piano around because he did not trust anyone else with it, until he was old enough to help move it himself. There was a corner chipping from when Arthur had hurled a play ball at it in retaliation against some sort of argument they had been in. There were lipstick marks from when Lorenzo’s wife would apply her makeup sitting on the bench because she swore the lighting had been perfect in that exact spot. Charles recalled hiding under the piano itself so Arthur would not find him. He remembered running circles around it when they were chasing each other or trying to escape a scolding from his mother.

This piano had countless memories attached to it.

The piano had also remained here in this sitting room, unmoved since his father had fallen ill. Lorenzo had been too busy to help him and his father too ill to help. 

Charles remembered how he had played piano for Edward in this room when his family had been out. They had never known he had brought Edward home, nor would he ever tell them. 

For a foolish moment he had longed to play for Max in this very room and now the thought of playing for anyone else left distaste in his mouth.

“I cannot play, maman, I am sorry,” he whispered out, staring down at the keys still and his hands folded in his lap. 

He could not play.

He would not play. 

Not like this.

“Your papa loved to hear you play,” Pascale began, her gaze downcast, “I remember how happy he was when you had taken to it, his mother played you know? Your grandmother, before her hands began to shake, she was fantastic at it too. You have her talent I believe, and mine of course, your papa absolutely adored that I too could play.”

There were tears in the corners of his eyes once again. 

His mother had not played since his father had passed.

Gently she took her hands in his own, a gentle kiss pressed to the back of his hand. “All will be okay, mon coeur, you will play again one day.”

Before he could stop it a sob slipped from his lips, quickly he pressed his face against his mother’s shoulder, not wanting her to see him crumble so quickly at a mere few words.

-

He still had yet to reveal the pendent to anyone. 

It had remained under his pillow for days and for days he had wondered if hiding it was the right call.

Victoria had given it to him with confidence, as a sign of Max coming back to him. It was their mother’s pendant necklace and it felt wrong hidden away, especially when Max had spoken of it so fondly, an equivalent to the book his father had gifted him.

Charles rolled onto his side, eyeing the untouched pillow before lifting it to reveal the gold necklace. Slowly he lifted in his own hands, letting his fingers run over it as he mulled over it. 

He could simply pass it off as his own. No one’s first assumption would be that the necklace is from someone, or that it belonged to Max Verstappen. Max himself had worn it under all his clothes, unseen to the world. 

He shuffled off the bed and towards the mirror that hung in the far corner of his bedroom. His shirt had been messily buttoned from when he had undressed from Arthur’s outing into town.

He had avoided his own reflection so often he had almost forgotten the toll the situation had taken on him. The dark circles under his eyes, how sunken his eyes looked, the paleness to his skin, his cheeks gaunt. 

A ghost of his former self.

Quickly he averted his eyes to the pendent, holding it up to his neck. The gold almost glowed against his pale skin. The pendant would sit almost between his collarbones, nothing difficult to hide with the high collared shirts and jackets he had to wear on most days. He would simply have to wear more clothing at home to make it less noticeable. 

Charles did not hesitate for any longer, undoing the fastening and placing it around his neck. It was a struggle at first, difficult to lock it with no one to help him. The feeling of longing swirled in his chest but eventually he was able to fasten it, letting go of the chain. 

He took a moment to take in his appearance, brushing his hair back out of his face, pulling his shirt up onto his shoulders properly to button it up, the pendant hidden, only the shine of the gold visible. 

It would be safer like this either way, no chance of a maid to find it and place it somewhere he would not know. For now he had barred anyone from even coming into his bedroom, but he knew he would not keep winning that fight forever, his mother insisted on everything being as clean as possible. 

It was odd, how the necklace brought a sort of relief over his shoulders, resting his hand over it where it was hidden by his shirt. Almost as if Max was with him and he truly was not alone. 

He curled his fingers around it, holding it tightly in his palm for a moment as he closed his eyes. 

He wondered if Max would do the same with the necklace when he had worn it. For a moment he could pretend that he was grasping Max’s hand inside of the pendant. Pretend as if Max was by his side still and would fight for them to be together. 

Even if it was the furthest thing from reality possible. 

-

Each passing day was as tortuous as the last. His days had begun muddled together. 

Pierre seemingly had enough of it.

Charles groaned as the light assaulted his eyes full force. He tugged his bedding over his face, “Go away, Pierre.”

“Honestly, Charles, please, you need to get out. We are going out into the fresh air today, okay? You are beginning to worry me. I have not seen you like this since your papa passed and this time no one has even died.”

This time.

What an awful statement in his life.

“My heart has died, Pear,” he huffed out, clutching the blanket tighter as he felt Pierre attempt to tug it off. 

“Lord–Charles please, you are alive no? Your heart is perfectly fine and still beating away in that chest of yours. Now get up before your mother goes off and calls the damned doctors on you. They’ll poke and prod you and find some sort of imaginary illness to give you, calamar.”

The pulling had stopped, so to his own distaste he pulled the blanket off his head to glare daggers at Pierre. “Where do you want to take us?” 

“Nothing that’ll take up too much of your time, Lord Leclerc. I’m sure you will have plenty of time to mope when we return, since you clearly need to do so much more of it.”

Charles did not let up his glare, Pierre unmoving in front of him with his arms crossed. 

“Calamar, please? I do not understand this. Edward, yes, had left you broken for months, but Verstappen? In such a short time he has left you in pieces once more?”

No one understood. 

No one understood how closely he had been holding the remaining pieces of his heart since then. Not even Piere knew the extent to the agony in his mind. 

“It is because I never thought I would love another again. I never wanted to give my heart to anyone else, or what remained of it, Pierre, but the moment I saw Max I knew he was the one. Something had told me then and there that my heart would be safe in his hands. I cannot bear being wrong again, if he does—if he does not approach me ever again I don’t think I would be able to live with myself, Pierre. What good am I if nothing I do is enough? Lorenzo will have me married off to some man and I will live the rest of my life as that. I would be living, sure, but simply outwardly. My heart would be beating, but for what? Nothing, Pierre, nothing.” 

“Charles…” Pierre’s words were worry filled, grasping his hand as Charles continued to lay in bed. He could not even dream of getting up and facing the world.

“I cannot, Pierre, I cannot do this again.”

Not even Pierre would be able to understand what it had meant for Charles to give himself to Max. One last attempt to not be alone.

“You are tormenting yourself, Charles…” Pierre whispered, squeezing his hand, “You will rot away like this.”

“Then rot, I shall.” 

-

“Charles.”

This time he was met with the blue-gray of his brother's eyes as he pulled off the blanket over his head.

“Arthur,” he murmured back, eyebrows raised. It seemed they had finally decided to send in Arthur. If they had been smarter they would have sent his little brother days ago.

“Will you come eat with me?”

It was a simple request, Arthur lingering in the middle of his bedroom. He looked small standing there, rocking on his feet. His face hopeful, but worried lines set between his eyebrows. 

Charles had been selfish again.

He had been used to being selfish against Lorenzo, Pierre and even his mother, but Arthur. He had never been selfish when it came to the youngest. 

When Arthur had been born it had been Charles' chance to be a big brother. To dote on someone like Lorenzo had on him. He remembered how excited he had been that day. He had been bouncing up and down on his feet waiting for their father to return with good news. Lorenzo had wanted a little sister, but Charles had not cared because he would finally have someone to play with when Lorenzo was away.

Charles remembered holding Arthur in his lap, little tufts of blonde hair on his head and he had been tiny, but big in his own small arms. Arthur had such big eyes after just being born, little fists wiggling in the air.

It had been one of his most favorite memories. 

They should have sent him days ago.

“Is there lemonade?” he asked finally as he untangled himself from his blankets.

Arthur broke out into a smile, “I’ll have a fresh pitcher made just for you!”

Charles could not help but match his smile, though as he went to stand there was a rush of dizziness falling over him. He quickly grasped the side table before he could fall. Merde.

Arthur rushed to his side. “Are you alright?”

His lack of appetite was beginning to affect him. He managed to keep smiling though, for his little brother. “Nothing a meal cannot fix, come on, lead the way, bébé .” 

Arthur wrinkled his nose, locking their arms together. “I am not that small anymore, brother.”

Charles pretended not to notice that Arthur was clearly helping him walk. His whole body felt weak from how he had spent the last week. 

Perhaps there really was no good to punishing himself like this.

“You will always be small to me, mon bébé.”

Being outside was nice, even if it was simple out in their courtyard. The London rain had eased for the day, instead the sun high up in the sky accompanied by a few clouds.

Arthur was truly the best company in his family. They were alike in being able to talk anyone’s head off and when someone did not want to speak they were both able to keep talking. That was how Arthur was updating him on every detail that Charles had missed whilst hiding away.

Charles hummed occasionally, head leaning back against the seat he had curled up in. Arthur had organized an assortment of food, two kinds of tea, the lemonade he had requested and sandwiches, pastries and even one of Charles’ favorite desserts.

He wondered how long Arthur had been planning this.

Absent-mindedly, his hand reached out for the pendant around his neck. It had become a habit to fiddle with it now. It kept him grounded, kept him from losing himself too much in his hopelessness.

“Is that new?” Arthur wondered aloud.

It took Charles a moment to realize what Arthur was speaking of. His grasp on the necklace tightening as he came to realize he had dragged it out from under his shirt.

“I—” 

His brother cocked his head to one side. “It looks worn actually, did maman give it to you? Can I see?”

There must have been something awful spreading across his face as Arthur sank back down into his seat. “Oh…is–did Max give it to you?” 

It was cruel how Max’s name was whispered, as if he was some sort of villain in their world. 

At the same time it did not feel right revealing the pendant to anyone, not until he knew. 

Charles simply shook his head, “Not now, Arthur.”

The topic was swiftly dismissed, Arthur selecting a new one, being their neighbors who had taken to arguing outside on the balcony when Arthur had his lessons.

-

At times the anger came rushing back like a flood of water. The anger trapped him in that spot, trying its best to drag him down into the murky waters.

Charles did not let anyone face him during those hours, locked away in his bedroom as his ribs ached from the claws embedded into them.

He was angry at all. Angry at Lorenzo for not seeing Max for who he was. Angry at his mother for never really seeing him. Angry at Pierre for attempting over and over again to get him to leave. Angry at Arthur for caring so much for Charles, who was simply selfish. Angry at himself for letting himself even have a heart after all the times it had been shredded. He was angry at the world for even bringing him and Max together. If they had not meant to be together, why had he ever seen him? He was angry at Max for not wanting to fight for them.

He yearned to be able to turn back to those weeks ago and never approach Max. He was angry that Arthur had not stopped him from wandering off. 

He felt nothing but anger prying away at his ribs. If he listened closely enough he could hear every crack and twist of his bones as the anger filled his chest until it came out in a deep sob muffled by his pillow. 

He did not even have the right of mind to scream. All he could do was cry like a child would cry when it was hurt. 

Except there was no mother or father to come and comfort him.

He could not allow it.

-

“Oh, Charles, there is a letter for you, it came this morning. I was just about to send it to your bedroom.”

“It must be Esteban…” he murmured, pulling his robe around himself tighter as he stepped into the room. He wrinkled his nose. “Must you have all the windows open, maman?” Each and every window had been pulled open and curtains had not even been drawn, billowing in the air around his mother. 

“The room was stuffy,” she replied before returning her attention to the book she had in her hands.

Charles sighed, wandering over to the little table in the center of the room. There were quite a few letters on the table, but the one that caught his eyes had a deep blue seal to it and Charles scrawled across it in beautiful script. 

Not Esteban then.

Carefully he picked it up and his breath hitched. Embedded into the blue wax was an intricate V.

V.

It was a V.

Victoria had not lied…

Victoria had told him to not lose hope and it had finally come to be. 

With shaking hands he clawed open the letter, the envelope falling away as he grasped the letter itself. Two full pages of writing. A drop of blood marked the corner of it now from how quickly he had opened it up.

Lieve .

It truly was Max.

“Is Esteban well, dear?” 

Charles felt sick.

After two weeks, Max had finally written. 

“ Mon coeur? ” 

“Maman, do you know if the maid cleaned my riding jacket?” 

Charles ripped his eyes away from the letter as he heard Lorenzo’s voice, his brother walking into the room, fixing the cuffling of his suit jacket. He quickly hid the letter behind his back.

He could not lose it

“Should be in your bedroom, dear,” came Pascale’s simple reply before she looked back at Charles. “Charles? How is he?”

Charles felt frozen in place, the letter clutched tightly behind his back. He could not read this in front of Lorezno. Putain, he should have waited till he was in his bedroom, but he had ripped it open like an idiot.

“How is who?” Lorenzo questioned, looking at him oddly as he finished fixing the cuff and raising his eyebrows.

“Estaben has written to him dear, but I do not know why he is acting so oddly. Honestly, Charles, you need to go out, have some fresh air, you are behaving so peculiarly. You know children grow up oddly if they do not have enough fresh air.”

“He is fine, maman!” His voice came out too high pitched for his own liking as he eyed Lorenzo, gaze flickering back to his mothers.

Pascale frowned, “You look as if you have been given bad news, mon coeur . Whatever is the matter?” 

Lorenzo’s eyes continued to narrow until suddenly his gaze was on the ground.

The shredded envelope. 

His brother was simply faster though as he darted down to pick up the envelope, their heads clashing together earning a groan out of them both. 

Lorenzo was quick to recover, smoothing out the envelope, thumbing the broken wax seal.

It was obvious he had not torn it apart the best, the seal broke in the corner as the paper had suffered most of the tearing. 

“Verstappen.”

Charles flinched, eyes squeezing tightly as Max’s family name was said out loud. A small gasp left his mother’s lips. 

“The bastard decided to write to you now then? After two whole weeks?” Lorenzo asked, scrunching up the envelope in his hands. 

“At least he wrote, “ Charles choked out, keeping the letter safely behind his back. He was not going to risk anything. Not when so many of Max’s words were unread still. Not when it possibly held a happy ending for him.

“Two weeks, he made you wait, Charles. Is that love? He is the one who sent you away and now he writes.”

His brother’s mind was so full of hatred he was blind to even the most obvious reasoning. 

“I am sure it is because of the fear you planted in his mind. Who knows if I would have even received the letter if you had gotten here first?! He would have sent it and you would have burnt it.”

Lorenzo sighed, shaking his head, “If he was so deeply in love would he not have shown up here himself? You are fooling yourself, Charles.”

Foolish. Foolish. Foolish. 

If he was the fool why did Lorenzo act so pained? It was not his life. 

“So be it then!” His voice rose, panic and anger swirling together.

“Charles…” Pascale warned.

Of course the only time she would speak up is to warn him of his tone. Because Lorenzo was the eldest. Because Lorenzo was the head of their family. 

“Maman! Please! Just once, just once can you listen to me? Can you open your eyes and see how unhappy I am?” 

Once again he had desperation dripping from his words. 

Time and time again he crumbled to desperation because it seemed like it was the only way of living he knew. 

Desperately beg for what he wanted and still lose it all.

Again and again. 

“Charles…please, we want the best for you,” Pascale continued. 

“You want the best for the family not for me.” He found himself raising his voice. “Why must I be the face of it?! Lorenzo does enough, no?!”

“Don’t yell at maman!” Lorenzo cut in, stepping closer. “Show some respect, what is wrong with you, Charles? You were never like this before?!”

“It is because I had accepted that I would never love again!” 

He was so tired of fighting. 

Every last fight he had sworn he would not waste his energy, but here he was again. 

Wasting his energy. Losing his mind arguing with someone who would clearly never understand. 

“I had accepted it, Lorenzo!” Charles heaved. “I had mourned my heart and I had been ready to live my life alone but then you came in with this ridiculous vow to have me married and I knew there was no chance of me living a happy life unless I found someone I dare give my heart to, which was Max. It is still Max, my love is not one to fade easily.” 

“Unmarried for life?” Lorenzo asked, distaste in his voice clear. “You know we would have never allowed that.”

Charles scoffed, “I thought that being my brother you would have wanted me to live happily, but I was a fool. Clearly you couldn't care less, you selfish bastard!” 

He heard his mother gasp but did not pay her mind.

“And you know what?” He strode even closer and shoved the letter into Lorenzo’s chest harshly. “Take it. Take the letter. Read it for all I care. The fact that he wrote was enough for me. I am going to him and you will not stop me.” 

He had had enough. 

Max had written and it was enough. 

It was enough for him and if Max had not meant for it to be a confession? Well, then it was not meant to be, but Charles could not stay here for a minute longer.

He spun on his heel and swiftly left the room, not waiting around to see if Lorenzo would read the letter or fall to the ground or burn it right away. 

He was not going to let Lorenzo ruin his life any longer. 

It did not hurt any less though as he did not hear his mother calling for him and not even footsteps as he made his way upstairs. 

No one was stopping him.

There was little time to pack and it was not his priority. He grabbed a simple satchel, throwing in an overcoat and a change of shirt as he quickly pulled on a jacket and found himself a pair of riding boats. The fastest way would be going on horse. 

Charles quickled scrawled down a note for Pierre. He knew he would be returning this afternoon and he did not want to scare him with his sudden disappearance. With a note Pierre would know where to go if he wished to follow. 

He had half a mind to write Arthur a note but he feared he did not have the time. There was something screaming in his mind to hurry, to be as fast as possible. He just hoped he would forgive him for leaving like this. 

It was not until he arrived back downstairs did his mother make an appearance. 

“Charles, you can not be serious. It will be dark soon, where are you even going? Please, this can wait till morning surely? I could arrange a carriage for you and you could leave safely.”

She did not even care that he was leaving. 

She had not even attempted to ask why he was leaving and where he was going.

Charles knew he should be grateful she worried for his safety, but he was sick of it. 

Why did she not care enough and why did Lorenzo care too much?

He shrugged off his mother’s every attempt to touch him. He was not going to sway in any way. “I have ridden in the night before, maman, I will be fine. “

“But— mon coeur–”

“--No maman, please, let me go.”

Even the pet name she used so lovingly for him felt like a dagger to his heart. 

Her hands disappeared from his arms as he rounded the corner to slip out the side door. He would need to find a horse. They did not own horses since his father had fallen sick, but there were many who owned them at the edge of town. If he moved fast enough, he could be on his journey before night fell completely. 

He glanced back once as he twisted the door open. His mother stood there, clear devastation printed across her face. She looked as if she wanted to say more but was unable. 

So many unsaid words between the two of them.

“Farewell, maman,” he uttered before slipping out of his home.

All he could be thankful for was that it was not raining. The weather was on his side for once as he made his way through the town. There were not many people about. Most at home with their families preparing for dinner or entertaining guests.

None of those homes like his, full of pressed silence and tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

Filled with unsaid words that had in the end torn them all apart anyways. 

The creature had returned to his chest. His ribs began to ache with every step he took further away from his home. 

It was eating away at his despair, growing larger and larger as it ate its fill but remained aching for more. 

It was not difficult to obtain a horse, paying a few extra pounds so the man would ask no question and spread no talk. 

Not that Charles believed he would be able to escape talk. 

The Leclerc’s middle son was off somewhere alone as night was approaching. Their son who was in the season and to be married by the end of it. 

Perhaps some even knew him as betrothed to Alonso. 

He did not know how much Lorenzo had revealed to his circle. 

He did not ride off right away, walking the horse farther down the roadway before clambering on. 

The creature had gone rabid in his chest, prying his ribs apart as he exhaled once before darting off down the path. He only had one thing in mind.

Make it to the Sainz’ estate before morning. 

Chapter Text

There was little that scared Pierre. 

When he was young he had been terrified of spiders. Being the youngest of four brothers he was teased for it, but his brothers never let him cry for too long.

Most bugs did not sit well with him if he was honest and they still did not. 

There was something with their too many legs and how small they were and how quick some of them could move.

Charles had never minded them, always laughing and asking why Pierre was afraid of something so little. 

Pierre never knew why he was afraid of them, he just was. 

He was less afraid when Charles was with him. His best friend would laugh and tease but he always got rid of them before they came too close.

For as long as he could remember Charles had never shared a fear, but Pierre had been there when Charles grew to fear storms. 

Gradually he was forced to watch Charles begin to grow nervous at the sight of brewing gray clouds, the sound of rain hitting the windows and the telltale sign of a thunderstorm arriving. 

It was the worst if they were ever out and it had begun to rain. Charles would rush and hide in the closest building, drag him along as if fearful the rain would sweep them both away. 

He would curl up as small as possible in carriages if they were traveling during a storm, clutching his arm and squeezing his eyes shut whenever thunder would crash in the incident. 

Pierre learned then that Charles had grown to fear losing people close to him. 

First Jules, then Edward, and then his papa.

Pierre had never considered he could lose Charles.

“Why is Charles not home?”

The door slammed against the opposite wall as he walked into the damned study Lorenzo practically lived in now. 

Lorenzo barely glanced up at his presence. “He wanted to leave so he left. Do you honestly think he would have stayed if I asked?” 

“Did you even try Lorenzo?” he spat out, venom laced in his tone. 

“Pierre.”

Of course he was using the god forsaken tone he always used with Charles. A tone of belittlement. As if no one was as good as him.

Growing up the youngest he had never faced that, no matter how grave a mistake he had made, and he had never imagined Lorenzo to turn into this and use it with Charles of all people.

“You are the reason he left, aren’t you. He told me what you said, Lorenzo. How you blamed him for Jules. I cannot believe you would burden him with something like that. We all loved Jules, Lorenzo. You were not the only one affected and it is fucking selfish for you to put all the blame on Charles. Perhaps if you had been attentive you would have noticed they had all left and spoken some sense into them. Except Jules had been the one to take that roll and had run to make sure your brothers were safe, Lorenzo. Your brothers. You should remember that the next time you try to blame Charles.”

Pierre did not wait for a reply. He doubted he would even get one. For now he needed to get to the Sainzes’, not fight with Lorenzo. It was enough for him to give something for Lorenzo to think about.

-

The rain had begun pouring half way through his journey. It was no surprise, but there was slight regret in the way he had dressed. His hands trembled under the cold as he clutched at the reins. 

Ahead of him he could see nothing through the darkness of the trees and the rain obscuring his vision even further. 

He could do this. It would not be long now. The path to the Sainzes’ was one he had taken more times then he could count. Trips alone and with his brothers. 

There was an uneasiness in his chest that would not leave. 

The weather was painfully similar to that night.

It was not long until he decided to begin leading the horse. It was becoming much too difficult to ride through it all, the horse becoming stubborn in the heavy wind and rain.

Charles did his best to keep to the edge of the road, his boots becoming caked with mud as he dragged himself through the forest roads.

-

Charlotte was the one to open the doors.

He supposed he looked like quite a mess, drenched by the heavy pour of rain and panting from the journey he had tried to make as short as possible.

“Mr. Gasly?” she asked, shocked, “What on god's earth are you doing out in these hours?” She ushered him inside, shaking her head.

“Charles—” Was the one word he got out immediately, “Charles told me he was coming here, I did not want to make him wait for long, I’m sure—” Pierre’s words came to a stop as he caught sight of Charlotte’s face. Her eyes had widened, a furrow between her brows.

“Charles did not arrive here in the last hour, nor did Carlos inform me of his arrival…”

No. No. No.

Charles would not have lied about where he was going. If he had wanted it to be a secret he would not have even left a note. 

Why leave a note if he was not coming here? There was not even another place Pierre could suspect for him to go. 

Unless…Unless something had happened to Charles on the way.

“Charlotte…I need you to wake Carlos. I fear something has happened.”

Charlotte did not hesitate a second longer. “Right away, Mr.Gasly,” she said, hurrying up the steps with new found energy. 

He had half a mind to awaken Lord and Lady Sainz, but if he was simply overreacting and Charles was somewhere safe it would not be right to disturb them. 

“God, Charles, where are you…” he muttered to himself, glancing back out the doors behind him. The rain had only worsened in the last few minutes.

He could not face the fact that Charles could be out there lost in the rain and darkness. 

“Pierre?” Carlos called out, running down the stairs, a coat half pulled up his arm, “Charlotte says Charles is missing?” There was a pained edge to his voice, Lando right on his heels. 

“Carlos…he told me he was coming here. He wrote a note and according to his mother he had left an hour before I arrived.. He should have arrived by now. I fear the worst…I—I cannot lose him..not him.”

“Pierre, be strong. We cannot think of the worst right now, we will find him. Perhaps he got turned around? It is storming badly…it may have made him halt for shelter somewhere?” Carlos spoke with confidence.

“Did he say why he was coming here?” Lando questioned, stepping forward.

Pierre shook his head. “I do not know, Lando…would—perhaps Max? Is Max still here? Perhaps Charles sent a message ahead for him?” 

There was a small chance Max knew more than them. He needed to speak to anyone who could have the slightest chance at knowing. 

Lando nodded his head, “I will go get him right now!” He swiftly turned around, hurrying down the hallway, a clear limp in his every move. 

It was not a long wait, Lando returning in just a few minutes, dragging along a half asleep Max by his wrist.

“Lando! No need to drag the man!” Carlos called out hurriedly. 

“He was slow.”

“What’s happened?” Max asked quickly. Despite being dragged out of his sleep he looked quite alert, blinking away his sleep. “Lando did not explain.”

“It is Charles, Max. He is missing. He left a note for Pierre saying he was to come here but he never arrived. Did he send a letter to you? Perhaps he told you where he was actually going?” Carlos asked.

For a moment there was nothing but confusion on Max’s face. “Missing? But—I–” He cut himself off before he could finish. 

They could not waste so much time.

“What do you know?” His tone came out harsher than needed, but Max knew something and he was wasting their time.

“Max? We need to hurry,” Carlos urged. 

‘I—I only sent him a letter. I do not know if he read it or not, I did not tell him to go anywhere.”

A dead end. 

“You sent him a letter?” Pierre could not help but ask.

Max had sent a letter, after weeks of silence. After being the one to send Charles’ away.

He had shown his utmost support for the two of them when speaking to Charles because he did believe Max was not his father and he would never go against what Charles wished.

But Max had left him in agony for so long and now he was missing…gone somewhere without a notice or in trouble out in a damned storm. He could not help his anger.

“We have to retrace his steps then. I am sure he took the path we did as children. It has always been faster, “ Carlos spoke up before Max could answer.

“What did the letter say?” Pierre questioned, stepping closer. 

Max’s eyes flickered between him and Carlos. “It was…an apology…” he started carefully. 

Pierre could not help but scoff. “And you thought a letter was enough after all the torment you caused him?” he spat out.

“Pierre—” Carlos attempted to interfere but he paid him no mind. 

“You know it is ridiculous how much he will suffer for others. I thought for a first someone else would give their all to him but you turned out as horrid as the others! After all these days you thought an apology would be enough? That is all you came up with?!” 

This surely could not be a reality. 

Max continued to stand there acting as if he had done nothing wrong and it only made his anger rise..

“Well?” Pierre continued to push, “Do you have something to say about this you selfish bastard?” He was a second away from closing the gap and teaching Max a proper lesson but there was suddenly a body in the way.

Lando had stepped in front of him, anger clear as day across his face. “This is not helping us, Pierre! Charles is out there alone and you want to pick a fight with Max? Stop being so idiotic and go! Fight with the man afterwards if you must!” 

Putain. Lando was right. What was he doing? 

“This has not ended!” Pierre ended before stepping away completely, “You will not treat him as some sort of game after this Max.”

Max jerked his head into a nod at his words, “I care for him, Pierre. I promise you that.”

“Come. Charlotte has prepared the horses!” Carlos added, ushering them through the front doors. 

“I’ll stay behind in case he does end up coming here,” Lando stated, pausing at the top of the outside stairs. “I can not ride well with this limp. Be safe, you three and please return with him .”

“Always, mi vida.” Carlos returned to his side for a quick embrace and pressed a soft kiss to the side of Lando’s head. “We will all come back, perhaps keep the bedroom warm and some food aside?”

Lando nodded slowly, though a frown remained on his face. He tugged Carlos close once more, embracing him tightly, “Return to me in one piece, okay?”

“Of course,” Carlos replied softly and with one last look descended the stairs. 

It left Pierre with a dull ache of his own in his heart watching the love between his friends. This had been the longest he had gone without Esteban by his side since they had married. The longing was growing stronger.

He had left France knowing he would be here without him for a while. He had thought it would be fine but at night it was the worst when he laid awake alone. Esteban was too far from him. When he could not sleep they would spend hours talking or sharing childhood stories. It was an endless abundance of conversation and he longed for it.

He longed to hold his husband again but at the same time he was thankful Esteban was away from all this. It was all so upsetting and he knew Charles’ guilt would have grown plenty subjecting Esteban to scenes like these. 

He could only hope for everything to settle and be able to finally write back to Esteban with the news of Charles’ marriage and be able to make arrangements for his arrival in England.

“Pierre?”

He was pulled out of his thoughts by Carlos. The two men had already climbed onto their horses and Lando had returned back into the home. 

First they had to find Charles. 

Together they left the Sainzes’ estate with Carlos leading them into the darkness, the rain continuing to fall down on them.

-

Charles did not hear them over the sound of the storm.

The rain had calmed, but it had already done its job, soaking him to the bone and leaving the world cold and empty in its wake.

Much like how he felt often enough.

The sounds of their horses were muffled by the howling wind that had come to stay. The reins dug painfully into the palms of his hands, attempting to keep a proper hold on the horse. It was not until there was sudden movement in front of him did he come to an abrupt stop. 

He barely made out the sight of the man until there were sudden hands reaching for him.

Charles gasped, flinching back to avoid the hands only to have tripped back, the reins slipping from his hands. 

His horse startled as another horse came flying forward from the path in front of them. The lanterns the men were carrying lit up the small area.

“Traveling in such horrid weather, young sir?” the man in front of him questioned.

Charles grimaced, he could feel the wet ground further soak into his clothing. 

“Are you not doing the same?” he spat out. He had no time to be kind. Not when these men were making him further late. 

All he wanted was to see Max.

The man was now crouched down in front of him, a lantern held in his hand as he pushed it close to his face. “Do not get smart with us, boy. You are the one alone.”

That was when the slight dread set in. 

These were no gentlemen or even travelers from out of the country.

“I am not alone—” Charles managed out, pushing himself up and onto his feet, “I am expected somewhere and you are making me later than I already am.”

The man let out a cackle at his words. “Well, we do not want that, do we, mate?” He glanced back to find the other man had dismounted his horse and had trailed closer.

Charles gulped. 

One man he could have taken, but two? 

Questionable. 

“I’ll be on my way then…” He spoke softly, taking a small step back. If he did not aggravate them anymore perhaps they would—

A strong grip had latched onto his arm before he could move any more. “Surely you are not this dense.” The other  man moved forward, pushing his coat and shirt sleeve off, only to let out a noise of disappointment. 

“He’s got nothing on him!” he complained.

The one holding him, the leader he presumed, clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Surely there is something. These little rich boys love their family jewels. Try the horse, some bags perhaps.” 

As soon as the second man left Charles seized the opportunity. With all his strength he ripped himself out of the man's grip and landed a square punch to the man's face. He hit blindly, stumbled back and turned to run. 

If he could just reach the forest and lose them—

He had overestimated his quickness. The man practically jumped him, dragging them both down. They had been too close to the ditch carved into the road. They tumbled down. The man landed straight onto him, the air from his lungs disappearing as he gasped. Even that was not enough to have Charles let up on the fight. He kicked his legs out, throwing out punches blindly. “Let go of me!!” he screamed out.

His throat felt raw from his screams, trying to fight off the man, but he had settled his whole body weight onto him. 

The man clicked his tongue, “This could have been so easy.” 

Charles flinched as a hand dove forward towards his neck. Fear struck throughout his body. Was this how he would die? 

Except no hand wrapped around his throat. Instead gold came into his eyeview and panic struck him.

No. Not Max's necklace. Anything but the necklace.

A manic grin had spread across the man’s face. “I see you were hiding your most precious jewels, hm?” 

“NO! I will give you money. I will give you anything else. Anything. ” He took a hold of the man’s wrist before he could pull it off.

“Selling this pretty number would give me more than anything you could possibly have and do not fret, I’m sure my men have got it all from your bag either way.”

Charles gritted his teeth, digging his nails into the man’s arm. He could not lose this necklace. 

He couldn’t.

“LET GO!” He continued to scream, legs kicked out from under him as he tried to push him off. 

Charles had missed the glint of silver in the darkness. 

Cold metal pressed against his throat made him still for a moment

“Would you die fighting for the necklace, boy?”

He had always been a fighter and it seemed it would come down to that once more.

Someone had to fight for Max.

“Gladly,” he spat out, throwing another punch to the man’s face. He had hoped it would be enough to confuse the man for a moment.

Charles almost did not register the movement. It was not until he heard the snap of the necklace breaking around his neck that he realized what had happened. 

The dagger had pierced his shoulder.

A strained gasp left his mouth as the man pulled the dagger out of his shoulder, the necklace dangling in his hand.

His hand shot out clutching his shoulder, his palm immediately feeling wet. 

Merde.

Using his other hand he snatched at the necklace, gripping it tightly. Pain ripped through his whole arm at the movement. “I would rather die fighting, than give up,” he half screamed, letting go of his wounded shoulder to strengthen his grip on the necklace. 

“Are you deranged?!” the man exclaimed, his eyes wide. 

“You—you could say that,” Charles muttered out through gritted teeth. Perhaps it was from the blood loss he felt as though he could win this.

The dagger returned at those words, the man seething above him. This time it was a tortuous slow cut down his arm, cutting open his coat and shirt. 

An anguished cry left his lips, arms shaking as he tried to keep ahold of the necklace. 

He could not lose.

Not when he was so close.

“A carriage. There is a carriage coming!” 

The second man reappeared, waving his arms, panic filled his voice. 

“Shite…” the man above him spat out and dropped his grip on the necklace. “Did you find anything in the bags?”

Charles let his head fall back down against the ground as the man scrambled off him.

“Little baggy of money, this boy is proper rich. We must leave! They’ll have us hanged if he’s got a proper name on him.”

“Good enough, he’s fighting too much.”

If the men had continued talking Charles no longer heard them. His ears ringing from the pain, he was barely even able to lift his head. His whole arm was pulsing. He clutched at with his hand, whimpering as he felt the wetness along his torn clothes. 

The light soon disappeared and the faint sound of horses echoed in his mind as he laid there limply. 

For a moment he thought of closing his eyes. Letting the darkness envelope him.

Perhaps this was the only way he would gain peace. 

Reunite with his papa and Jules. Reunite with those who had loved him.

His eyes fell shut at the thought of it. Being able to embrace his papa one more time, hear Jules’ voice once more. 

However, the weight in his hand had them flying open again.

Max.

He could not die. 

He did not want to die. 

He did not want to die like this.

Not when he had been so close to Max.

To happiness. 

Reuniting with his papa and Jules without living a life? 

He did not want to sadden them like this. 

Charles heard the carriage pass by but there had been no chance for the people to see him. Not in the dark. 

Heaving himself up proved to be another challenge. His legs felt like jelly, frozen from the cold and aching from how hard he had kicked at the ground and the man when attempting to get away. 

The darkness proved further difficulty. His lantern was long gone with his horse, the bandits had seemingly taken it and his bag.

They had to be sure he would die here.

Even more of a reason to live. Prove those bastards wrong.

“Putain…” he gasped out, barely managing a step forward. The blood loss had begun creeping up on him.

The ditch carving they had fallen into did not show him easy escape. Not with only one arm. He clawed at the dirt, falling forward as he tried to lift himself up but the pain proved too much. 

Charles collapsed, the pain overwhelming as he crumbled down against the dirt. His eyes felt too heavy. 

Even when he wanted to fight he could not. 

It was funny, really. 

He had left home despite the warnings. He had left in hopes that Max’s letter had been the sign he needed.

Once again he had shown his selfishness and it had become his downfall. 

It was his own.

Max had once said selfishness was the strongest act a person could commit. 

For Charles it had been the worst act he could commit.

Death plagued his selfishness.

It had plagued him for years and he had been blind to it. 

Lorenzo had been right to fear his decisions.

Nothing good came of them and it had all caught up to him.

No one but himself would be paying for this act of selfishness. For once perhaps everyone would be at ease. 

A shaky breath left his lips as he further slumped into the ground. 

With the last of his strength he dragged the necklace onto his chest, resting his hand above his heart. 

Perhaps whoever would find his body would try and return the jewelry to his family. 

He hoped Pierre would know it was Max’s.

He hoped Pierre would forgive him for this. 

The creature in his ribs had stilled for the first time in what felt like months. 

It was drinking its fill with his pain.

-

“ PIERRE!”

Pierre stilled at the sound of Max’s scream. 

They had been searching aimlessly for so long. Carlos on his horse while Pierre and Max switched between horses and by foot. The path was so painfully long. 

Charles could have been anywhere. 

Carlos had suggested they try the main roadway before further into the woods. If Charles had been hurt he could not have gone far. 

Pierre had hoped dearly Charles was not hurt. The tone of Max’s cry said otherwise.

He whirled around to see the man skidding down a small ledge, where the road was separated from the forest. His lantern glowing brightly amongst the darkened trees before disappearing behind the dirt.

Charles had fallen.

Pierre’s legs were moving before he had even thought of it. “MAX?” His own scream left his lips as he hurried to the man’s direction.

Nothing could have prepared him for the sight. 

Max had propped his lantern against the ledge and had collapsed onto his knees, dragging himself towards Charles.

“ Lieve…”  

Pierre barely caught the whispered words as he took in the sight of Charles. The sight of his best friend. The sight of his family. His brother. 

His body laid there limp in the rain soaked ground. His hair matted and stuck to his face. His clothes caked with dirt and grass from what must have been a painful fall.

Charles' eyes were barely open. Blinking sluggishly as he stared at Max’s face.

“Hm…?” He managed the faintest sound.

A pained noise left Max. “Shhh, do not speak. We are here now okay? I am here, Pierre is here. You are going to be okay, Charles, okay?” A gentle hand was placed on his cheek, his thumb dragging across a patch of clean skin.

“You came…”

“Of course we did,” Max spoke reassuringly. “Pierre came to us saying you said you would be there! What is wrong with you, Charles? You should have waited till morning!” 

For a moment Charles was silent. 

The dread in Pierre’s stomach grew larger. 

“I—I saved it…I didn’t let them have it…” 

The words were nonsense. Nothing had been saved. Nothing had been saved when Charles was like this. 

They had been so late.

They had taken too long.

Except the words, they were not nonsense to Max.

Charles' hand, which had been balled up on his chest, had opened. A gold chain tightly tangled in his fist.

A gold chain stained with blood. 

Max’s breath audibly hitched at the sight of it. His hands flew forward to clutch Charles’ hands. “You—God, Charles…I am sorry…”

His eyes fell shut before he was able to say anything more. 

“No. No. No…. Charles, please…” Max was repeating those words over and over again, dragging Charles’ body half onto his lap. Hands tapping at his face to awaken the man. “Charles, please .” Max’s words swam in desperation.

Pierre found himself stuck in his spot, his hands trembling by his sides as he watched Max try and wake him up. His ears were ringing and it felt as if someone had stolen his ability to breathe.

It was not until Max looked up at him, his face completely wet. Whether they were tears or from the light drizzle still pouring over them he did not know. 

“There’s blood…” Max choked out, a hand clutching at Charles shoulder, “There’s blood on his arm…Pierre. He’s hurt Pierre…I—He won’t open his eyes.”

The ringing in his ears only got worse as he fell to his knees, the rest of Max’s words falling on deaf ears.

Blood .

The mud on his clothes was mixed with blood, something he had not noticed till now.

Perhaps his mind had not wanted to process what he had been looking at.

Blood stained his neck and so much of his shirt. Blood stained his hands. The same hands he held only hours ago before leaving for his work.

Max’s hand matched Charles’ now.

Stained crimson.

Pierre reached out, taking a hold of Charles’ other limp hand and squeezed it, “Charles, Charles you must stay awake!” He was no short of begging, his own tears had begun falling down his cheeks, “It can not end like this, calamar! There is so much for you to live for. You must live, Charles. You cannot leave me so soon.”

Charles’ eyes remained closed.

There was so much for them to live through. Charles had not had the time to love someone. He had not had the time to live a happy life. To live a life with Max. His life had been fueled with pain and anguish for so long. Dying this young after living a life like that?

“Carlos!” Pierre screamed out, “What is taking so long!?” There was no way of knowing how long Charles had been out here nor how much blood he had lost. He was cold and clammy to the touch and his skin had grown paler by the second.

He could not lose him. He would not . 

Another painful minute passed before Carlos arrived with their horses. 

“Where is he hurt?” Carlos asked quickly, dropping to his knees to take a closer look. Neither Max or him could speak, simply indicating towards the arm.

Pierre could not see Carlos’ expression well in the dark but he knew the extent of the wound could be terrible. He watched as Carlos shrugged out of his coat and ripped a long strip of cloth from his own shirt. He worked quickly, tightly binding his whole arm. Pierre, offering the shreddings of his own shirt to the man to help him.

“That is the best I can do for now, but we need to hurry, we do not know how much blood he has lost.”