Chapter Text
For Max, the last race is the hardest race he has done in a really long time.
Not because of technical difficulties, strategy mistakes, or bad results, no. None of that.
As he takes the lift up to his apartment, he opens his phone and scrolls through his notifications. There are an unusual amount of messages; a lot of questions, answers, concerns, condolences. He tries to properly read through them, but it all quickly becomes too much for him, so Max shuts his phone off and shoves it into his back pocket. What he needs now is- he doesn’t really know, but he wants to be home. That much is clear.
His keycard already in hand, Max habitually holds the card up to the sensor, waiting until it makes a quiet beeping noise. The door then slowly creaks open, revealing a dark, empty apartment. He takes off his shoes and shrugs his jacket off, hanging it rather carelessly onto the hangers. When he turns around the corner, he expects an empty living room, but instead, he sees a vague form in the darkness.
See, it might be true that Max doesn’t get scared easily, but even then, he should realistically be more worried about this situation. It could possibly be a dangerous intruder after all. Max tries to care a little more about his own fate, but he’s too tired to even do that. It could even be just his exhaustion that was making him see things, so he decides to turn on the lights first for good measure. He stays calm, but braces for the worst. If someone really was in his house, it’s not like panicking would do him any good anyway.
When the lights flicker on, he doesn’t really know what he expected, but it’s definitely not this.
Sitting on his couch is Charles Leclerc. Fellow F1 driver. His rival. His-
“Hi Max,” Charles greets him, his tone way too casual. He isn’t even looking at Max, instead opting to stare blankly at the turned off TV. The sight is slightly unnerving. “Welcome back.”
His reaction is incredibly late, but Max flinches when Charles finally turns towards him. He just looks at Max, staring intently, as if waiting for a response. As if this situation is perfectly normal and Max should be normal about this.
“Jesus christ, Charles, what the fuck,” Max eventually manages to say something, albeit way too delayed. Even though Charles isn’t really doing anything, Max still feels his heartbeat rising in his chest. “You scared the shit out of me!“
Charles doesn’t react much, just looks at him and tilts his head. “I did not know you were religious.”
That answer makes Max pause.
This guy…is he being for real right now?
“Seriously? That’s what you got out of that?“ Max can’t believe what’s happening to him right now. His head is starting to spin and he desperately needs to sit down. So that’s exactly what he does. He then turns to Charles again and asks, “Where have you been? Everyone’s been looking all over for you!”
Charles’ look is still blank, like he’s in a daze. “I know. That is why I stopped looking at the news.”
Max sighs and drags his hands down his own face. This was not something he wanted to come home to. This situation can not possibly be real, just days ago, not even in his craziest dreams or nightmares could he ever imagine this happening. “You can’t just- you can’t just disappear like that. People are worried.”
“Sorry,” is all that Charles offers. “It is not like I had a choice.”
Max is surprised by that answer, but he doesn’t say it out loud, even if his shock might be visible in his eyes. He feels like he might have an idea about what Charles means, and yet he doesn’t want to admit it, not out loud, not even to himself. The answer, the confirmation, must come from Charles himself, so he asks, “Charles, why are you here?”
He knows that Charles knows. He must know. They always do. But Charles just avoids his eyes and mutters, “I am not so sure.”
You must know. There’s no way you could possibly be here and not know the reason. Max wants to say all that, but this situation is too much for him to remain sensible, to be the usual pragmatic, logical, and direct person that he usually always is. And for all he knows, this is probably too much for Charles too, especially if Max were to be so direct. He doesn’t know what to do anymore. What Max wants is- he just wants it all to stop. He wants to be waken up from what must be a horrible nightmare.
“Well you better figure it out soon then,” Max finally says, firm and assertive. Charles looks at him like a dejected child, but Max remains unmoving. He insists, “You need to go back to your family.”
Charles doesn’t say anything to that, just looks down, locking his gaze onto the floor. Neither of them say anything for a while, but Max is too tired and perturbed to be bothered by the fact that he and one of his biggest racing rivals are sitting in a dimly lit living room together, sitting on separate couches and not talking to one another. He could push and question Charles more, but with the way that Charles has been responding, that doesn’t seem like the best idea. It’s unlikely that he’d get anywhere by doing that, so Max decides that he just needs to shut up and collect his thoughts first, doesn't matter if Charles is there or not.
He knows that he needs to do something about this, clearly, but tonight is just not the right time for it. It seems that neither he nor Charles are in the right state of mind to do that. To resolve whatever the fuck is going on right now.
“I'm going to bed,” Max finally decides after a while. He is way too tired for this. He needs at least a good couple hours of sleep before he can even begin to untangle the situation they’re in, so he stands up and gestures towards the sofa, then to the room beside his own. “You can stay here or stay in the guest room there if you want.”
“Thank you,” Charles answers quietly. “I’m really sorry for bothering you.”
Max doesn’t even look him in the eyes before he walks away.
“It’s fine. Just- figure it out.”
-
When Max wakes up the next day, he feels like he had just woken up from the strangest dream of his life.
He wishes that it were all really just a dream, but it couldn’t have been. Because Charles is still there, walking around in his apartment.
Logically, he already knew that he would still be there. Before he fell asleep last night, Max was painfully aware that everything that happened wasn’t just something fucked up his head made up. But even then, the events of last night, along with the events of the last few days really all felt like some horrible fever dream, so Max still had to second guess everything when he woke up. He wishes that it was all untrue, but it’s evident by the fact that Charles is there that everything did in fact happen. It’s all real. It all actually happened, everything.
Max isn’t particularly annoyed by Charles’ presence, but it does feel weird to do his morning routine with Charles just sitting there on his dinner table, staring out his large double pane windows.
Max has his morning coffee in his hand when he asks, “How long are you planning to stay here?”
When he turns towards Max, Charles at least seems like he’s in a better mood than yesterday.
“Are you kicking me out already? It has only been a day.” Charles is talking to him with an easy, almost unbothered expression on his face, as if this is all normal, nothing urgent or serious. Like they’re friends, just joking and playing around. “I thought you would be a more generous host, Max.”
Max has to admit that that comment did irritate him. “I am. Just- not under these circumstances. It’s understandable, no?”
Charles immediately looks down, the melancholy and guilt coming back all at once, like one big wave that just hit him. It makes Max feel like a horrible person. He mumbles, “Sorry. I know I must be bothering you.”
“It’s not that.” Max sighs as he places the coffee on the table. He then pulls out the chair across from Charles for him to sit on. “I’m just- I’m worried for you, Charles. For your family. You should not be here after what happened.”
Max can still recall the fire, the screaming, the panic.
The shock, the deafening silence.
It never gets easier.
Time after time after time, and it never gets easier.
Charles is looking out of the window again, staring at the beautiful blue sky. “Why not? Here is as good as any place would be.”
“You know what I mean,” Max replies. And he hates having to be the messenger in all this, but Charles- he needs to be more aware of his situation. Far more aware. On second thought, Max is sure that Charles is aware, but he’s clearly just avoiding it, running away from it like the plague.
“I am not sure I do,” Charles says. He’s purposefully being contentious and difficult. And Max would be so much more annoyed at anyone doing the same thing under any other circumstances, but when he remembers what happened, he calms himself down. This is not the time for anger and impatience, no, not this time.
After a few beats of silence where Charles avoids his gaze while Max plants his directly onto him, Charles seems to have gotten uncomfortable enough to stand up.
“Is it okay if I look in your fridge?”
Max lets out another sigh. “At this point, I’m surprised you even asked.”
-
“Charles.”
“Max.”
Max is standing between Charles and the TV. Charles is watching something on Netflix, some random Japanese movie that doesn’t even look that good. That’s probably why Charles doesn’t even bother to try to look past him even though Max is standing in his way.
“You know you can’t do this forever.”
Charles looks up at him from the sofa. “Do what?”
“Avoiding everything!” Max raises his voice, feeling the most frustrated he has ever been in a while. “Dear god, at least say something to your family and friends. Can you imagine how worried they must be?”
“You do not understand,” Charles mutters quietly.
“You’re right, I don’t,” Max concurs. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to sit still and let you run away from everything. Nothing frustrates me more than people who run away from their problems.”
When Charles looks away again instead of answering, Max continues, a little softer this time, “You will- I think you will regret it.”
Outside the window, where Charles is looking, the weather is wonderful. The skies are as blue as they always are in Monaco and you can see seagulls flying around, hear them squawking in the distance. There are very quiet, faraway sounds of the waves hitting the coast and soft chatter from people outside. Max knows how much Charles loves Monaco, so it’s odd to see him look at his hometown with such a melancholic gaze. After a while, his expression twists even more and turns into one of bitter disdain.
“I have enough regrets,” Charles finally says, “what would a few more do?”
“Charles-”
“Sorry,” Charles quickly interjects. “Sorry, I know I’m asking a lot of you, but I- it has barely been a few days. Please let me- let me figure things out a little longer, yes?”
“Three more days.” Max finally concedes. It feels like it would be dangerous for him to push the topic even more right now. “That’s all I’m giving you. Any longer than that and I will tell your family myself.”
“Thank you, Max. I promise I won’t take your kindness and patience for granted.”
-
Max just got off of a much needed phone call with Victoria when he sees Charles tinkering with a keyboard in his living room.
“Where did you find that?”
Charles looks startled for a moment, like a deer caught in headlights. “In a box in your storage room. I did not take you as the type who played music.”
“Sorry for looking around,” Charles then apologizes, even if it’s a little too late, “I hope you don’t mind.”
“That’s not mine.” Max walks over and sits beside him, joining him in inspecting the keyboard. “I think it’s Victoria’s, from a long time ago. I don’t even know how it got here.”
Charles seems to already be pretty much done setting up the keyboard. Beside it, on the table, there are several crumpled tissues covered in dust. “Well, it’s no grand piano, but it will have to do.”
“Charles, have you-“
“Wait, just let me play something first,” Charles says as he turns the keyboard on. “And then we can talk.”
Max sighs, but doesn't complain. He quietly watches as Charles experiments with the keyboard for a while, trying to get his grips with it. Max has always found it fascinating, how Charles and some other drivers can truly have another passion outside of racing. Sure, Max has other hobbies and he likes some other things too, but none of them could ever match his love for racing.
Well, he would not say that Charles’ love for music could be compared to his love for racing either, but it certainly seems like something he’s still very passionate about.
It’s evident in the way he looks when he starts playing his piece. In his expression, Max sees focus and determination, something familiar, but also serenity and peace, something not very commonly seen while he was driving an F1 car. Max recognizes the piece as something Charles had written himself. He has heard it floating around on social media and sometimes even on the paddock, but seeing Charles play it live before his eyes, it- it’s certainly more of an experience.
His songs are- perhaps like Charles himself, melancholic, emotional, raw and honest. If a little tragic.
Max has always felt that just like him, Charles is someone who isn’t very good at hiding his emotions. Even if he might be better at PR talk than Max, it was still always evident what he was really feeling during those interviews. And it’s the same with his music. Even without words, with just the melody, he manages to convey something that Max can somehow understand. It’s disappointment and pain and loss and-
Hearing him play his pieces under these circumstances, Max almost wants to cry.
Charles finishes just like how he started; gently, quietly. A proper ending.
“You’re good,” Max comments, mostly to distract himself from the prickling at the corner of his eyes. He can only hope that Charles won’t notice his emotions. “I mean I knew already from the things you release on Spotify, but- it’s definitely a different experience in person.”
“You listened to the music I put out on Spotify?”
Charles immediately turns to look at him, surprised, but pleasantly so.
Max shrugs, somehow feeling a little embarrassed. “What can I say, I got curious.”
“I’m honored,” Charles smiles. It’s probably the most genuine one that Max has seen in the last few days. “I really am.”
It stops Max in his tracks a little, he can’t lie, but a part of his brain reminds him, nags him to talk about the most important thing there is to talk about at that moment.
“Now,” Max clears his throat. “Have you-“
Charles’ smile falters, then it disappears just as quickly as it appeared earlier. “Tomorrow, Max, I promise. Just- give me one more day. Please?”
“Okay.” Max runs his fingers through his hair. He doesn’t know why it’s so hard to deny Charles, to be more stern with him about all this, but it is. “Okay, fuck, yeah sure, one more, why not.”
“Sorry. I really am sorry, Max, believe me. But I need more time.” Charles turns off the keyboard. He looks distant again, like he wants to be anywhere but here.
Truthfully, Max wants to tell him that he will be okay, that he shouldn’t be so sad or worried, but he can’t. Not only does he lack the words and aptitude for it, but he also just doesn’t really know how to handle Charles. It’s not as if he sees him as something delicate and fragile, like he would break, but he also knows that Charles has been through enough. He doesn’t want to hurt him anymore than he already is. He isn’t a monster.
“Don’t apologize. It makes me feel like a bad guy.”
Charles hums briefly in acknowledgement, but he’s already faraway again. He stares outside the window like he wants to fly away.
-
The next day, Max can’t find Charles anywhere.
He isn’t in the living room where he usually was and he isn’t in the guest bedroom either.
To say that Max panics would be an understatement. If he let Charles disappear under his watch, he- he wouldn’t even know what to do with himself.
“Charles? Charles?” He calls out repeatedly, his volume increasing every time, “Charles?!”
He goes to the kitchen, but he isn’t there either. “Fuck! Are you kidding me?”
“Charles?! Don’t tell me you-“ He understands how he could have missed it, but when he looks twice, he can finally see that Charles is actually standing outside, on his balcony, the doors shut behind him. Max feels relief wash over him. “...disappeared.”
Max sighs and opens his glass doors, walking outside to the smell of the sea air.
Charles looks back at him and he looks- “Max? Did you call for me? If yes, sorry, I did not hear you. The view from your apartment is nice though.”
“For fuck’s sake.” Max palms his forehead and he has only realized now that he’s shaking, ever so slightly. He didn’t realize just how scared he was, just at the sheer thought of Charles disappearing. “I thought- I thought you disappeared.”
“It is a bit early for that, don’t you think?”
Charles smiles at him lightly, sympathetically, as if he’s the one who needs that right now.
(And Max doesn’t want to admit it, but maybe he does.)
“Aren’t you scared?”
“Of course I am,” Charles replies bluntly. “How would I not be?”
Max doesn’t understand Charles at all. On one hand, he seems so accepting of his current situation, but on the other hand, he also refuses to address anything about it. It’s like he’s running away, but he’s also looking back the entire time, staring at that which was chasing him.
“Then why are you- why are you wasting your time here with me? If you are scared, then you could be with anyone else, anywhere else, doing anything else, so why- why are you here, Charles?” Tell me.
For a while, Charles just has a pensive look on his face, like he’s still considering if he wants to say anything at all to that, if he wants to tell Max anything at all.
But then, contrary to Max’s expectations, he begins to talk.
“You know,” Charles starts and Max can somehow already tell that he’s finally going to get his answer, his explanation to all of this, but he doesn’t know if he’s even ready to hear it. Charles continues anyway, “I think people think that I have many regrets. About my life. About my career.”
He’s leaning on the railing of the balcony and for some reason, Max is scared that he would fall, even if he knows that it isn’t possible. And it wouldn’t even really matter anyway if he did. “And that is certainly true. I do have regrets, but I can always say that for most of my life, I have tried my best. To be a good brother, a good son, a good friend. To be the driver that Ferrari deserves, and I think- to really regret something, it would mean not trying.”
Max joins him on the railing, looking at Charles’ complicated expression. “Where are you going with this?”
Charles looks back at him and Max can’t even begin to describe the expression he has at that moment. If he has to try, he would say that he looks both serene and melancholic, but most of all, he looks pained.
“You told me to figure things out. Well, I have.”
Even if Charles is the one talking, somehow Max feels like he’s the more vulnerable one in this exchange. Charles has never ever opened up to him like this before, despite how many times they’ve talked to each other over the years. This all feels very new and scary, it terrifies Max. And he was never someone who got scared easily.
Charles sighs. “I think it's really foolish for me to say this because I know how pointless it is, but me still being here is just proof that no matter how hard I try to think with my head- my heart still ends up winning instead.”
“You know, Max, I think you might also know why I am here,” Charles mutters, his confidence slowly chipping away, evident by the way his voice gets quieter and quieter the more he talks.
Max is taken aback. He wasn’t lying when he said that he didn’t know why Charles was at his apartment. There’s no reason for him to. He had a vague idea at best, maybe, but even that has become more and more uncertain as the days go by. “What are you talking about? I wouldn’t be asking if I knew.”
“Then I guess you really are just that oblivious,” Charles laughs. He suddenly sounds so free, so light. That surprises Max, so much so that he almost misses what Charles says next. “The short version is this; I have been in love with you since we were kids.”
Max hears every word, loud and clear. He hears them, but he can’t really process the words being said to him. For a few seconds after this unbelievable revelation, it’s as if the world has stopped moving around them.
When Max finally finds his voice again, all he can say is; “…what? Charles...what are you saying?”
“I have been in love with you since we were kids, Max,” Charles repeats himself, way too easily, way too nonchalantly. “How else should I say it? I like you. I have a crush on you. I-”
“No, no, no, stop. I- I don’t get it,” Max stammers, still in shock. “I thought- this is not about racing?”
“What? Did you really think that I was stuck here because I had unresolved issues about racing? Anger, hatred, rivalry, jealousy, things like that?” If Charles feels anything but relief, it’s hard to tell. It seems like he doesn’t really care anymore and is really just putting it all out there. “If your answer is yes, then you think way too lowly of me, Max. I am not that kind of person. I do not like to hold grudges.”
His voice becomes a little quieter again when he says, “I mean, it is certainly true that there were times when I was angry with you, jealous of you, but at the end of the day I still- it seemed like nothing I or you could do managed to get rid of my feelings for you.”
Max is completely speechless. He’s finding it hard enough to form coherent sentences in his head, let alone with his mouth.
“No, I just- this just doesn’t make any sense. I thought there was no way that this was not about racing. I was so sure that it must’ve been something I did or- something I took away from you- I-“ Now Max feels like he’s the one who’s going to fall off his own balcony, the revelation- the confession shaking up his entire world like an earthquake. “I could have never imagined it being…this.”
Now Max kind of understands why Charles was looking at him with sympathy, why Charles didn’t just tell him about this on that first day, why his reason was so hard to bring up and talk about. “Sorry to disappoint you, Max. I am not as much of a petrol head as you think I am.”
Charles doesn’t seem to be enjoying this conversation any more than Max is, but it at least seems like he has already come to terms with it, made his peace with it because- as crazy as it is for Max to think about- Charles has apparently been in love with him since they were kids. He doesn’t know when Charles first realized it, but how did he not realize it? After spending so much time together over the years, how could he have been so blind to it?
“You don’t have to say anything,” Charles says as if he’s read Max’s mind. “It is kind of too late for all that anyway. I thought I would never want you to find out, but I guess- subconsciously- I wanted you to know.”
Max looks down because he’s feeling a little nauseous, still trying to process all of this, but what he accidentally sees is Charles’ hands on the railing, trembling. It only hit him then that Charles might not be as fine about this as he appears to be. Because of course he isn’t. How can he be? Max can barely even imagine confessing to someone who you’ve spent an entire lifetime with, someone who you’ve looked to with adoration for years, someone who barely even looked back.
It turns out that Charles can in fact be somewhat of a decent actor if he tried because somehow, he still finds it in him to continue talking, “So, I think I have bothered you enough these past few days. I think now that I- now that I’ve said this, I should be able to leave now, so I-“
“You idiot.” Max doesn’t really know what comes over him at that moment, what makes him think that this is something he should do after what Charles just said, but there’s one thing he knows for sure; he can not stand the sad look in Charles’ eyes and his shaking hands. Sure, he has always disliked it when people tried to pit them against each other in the press or when people trash talked Charles just to make him look better, but he didn’t realize just how protective he is of his lifelong rival until now. He didn’t realize how much he cares.
This isn’t the first time that he has done it, but when Max pulls Charles into a hug, it feels different somehow. “What are you acting so strong for? I can still see you shaking, you know?”
For a moment, Charles freezes in place. And for a second, Max wonders if he’s done the right thing or not, but before he can even consider pulling back, he feels Charles’ whole body begin to shake as he sobs into Max’s shoulder. “I- I’m so sorry, Max. I'm so sorry.”
“Hey, you have nothing to be sorry for.” Max pats his back gently, feeling kind of awkward and relieved at the same time. It seems like Charles does need this. “You’re going to be okay, Charles.”
He can’t see it, but Max can feel Charles shaking his head in disagreement. “I’m scared, Max, I don’t want to go- I-“
Max continues to move his thumb in circles on Charles’ upper back. “I know. I know. It must be hard for you. I’m sorry for not being kinder to you these past few days. As you might know, patience isn’t really my thing.”
When he hears a sniffled laugh, Max can’t help but to smile. Charles, who was holding onto him with full force before, finally loosens his hold. “Maybe this is one of the things that I have always liked about you. You have never treated me differently, no matter what happened.”
Max doesn’t say anything, just hums quietly in response. Despite all this, he still doesn’t know what to do about the fact that Charles is in love with him.
Charles lets go of him fully this time and takes a step back. “Thank you, Max. I hope the track won’t be too lonely without me.”
Hearing that, everything suddenly becomes much too real for Max in that moment. The gentle sea breeze, the squawking of the seagulls, the ocean waves in the distance, Charles, standing in front of him, looking different, but also just like the Charles he has known for all his life, for more than fifteen years now. How could he not be lonely without him? It’s all he has ever known.
“That’s impossible. We’ve been doing this all our lives,” Max says, telling the truth. He feels like Charles deserves to hear it. “Of course I’ll miss you.”
The smile that Charles gives him is sad and earnest and soft and Max wonders again how he missed all the signs. “I will miss you too.”
For a moment, neither of them speak, but the silence is comfortable this time. It’s loud with acceptance, understanding, and perhaps even a new found bond between them.
“You can stay longer if you want to,” Max finally says, “but I really do hope that you go to your family and friends soon. It doesn’t feel fair for them to not see you.”
Charles nods. “I know. I think- I think I’m ready to go to them now.”
And Max believes him. Something has shifted in the Monegasque today after he confessed to Max. It feels right, but also a little bittersweet for some reason. Because if Charles leaves now, this could very well be the last time he’ll be seeing Charles in a while, or maybe ever. That makes something inside his chest uncomfortable, but Max knows that it’s for the best. Charles shouldn’t be spending anymore of his precious time with Max, of all people, so why is he being selfish?
Max looks back at Charles and the latter looks hesitant. For reasons unbeknownst to him, Max immediately understands why. He already knows what Charles is about to say without him finishing the sentence. “Can I-“
“Yes, you can come back if you want to.”
For a second, Charles just looks glad, then he’s doing it again. He has that same soft, bittersweet smile on his face. “Thank you. I- I would love to spend more time with you. I don’t think I want to be alone.”
“You shouldn’t be,” Max agrees. “You know, I- I might not love you like that, but I…care about you still. More than you might think.”
More than I even realized.
It seems like his words take Charles by surprise, if his blown out eyes are any clue, but then the latter starts to giggle, which in turn catches Max off guard.
“If you keep that up, I might get the wrong idea, Max.”
Max smiles because for a moment, everything does feel right. “Oh shut up.”