Work Text:
Darling, handle me with care
Cover me in bubble wrap
I'm scared you really mean it
That you're never comin' back
See your bag right by the stairs
I guess you already packed
Know I can't change your mind
But how could you just leave like that?
“I’m not that loveable Max!”
The door to Max and Charles’ shared apartment slams shut.
A “You are!” comes through the muffled door, but Charles is too far down the hallway to hear it.
Oh-uh, oh-uh, oh-oh
Charles tosses his duffle bag into his back seat.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
He doesn’t think he even grabbed his toothbrush during all of that.
I'm not ready to let you go, so
Just give me one more night
Hold me like you're still mine
Oh, love me for right now
Before you leave me
Charles spends the next entire day staring up at the ceiling of Pierre’s spare bedroom.
I know it's gonna hurt
Watching your footsteps turn
So, love me for right now
Before you leave me
It takes two nights in Pierre’s house for Charles to break.
He’d been going through the motions of living, numb to everything around him. The words he’d screamed at Max haunting him from the back of his mind.
He wakes up in a rush, the morning sun not yet risen.
He passes his car, parked in Pierre’s driveway. It’s not that far to run.
Oh, oh
Oh, love me for right now
Before you leave me
The walls are bare. The entryway is empty. The kitchen table is gone. There are parts of the floor visible that Charles has never seen before.
Everything is gone.
Oh, oh
Oh, love me for right now
That’s not true.
The first couch he’d ever bought—and brought into their apartment—is still pressed up against the wall. The rug he’d begged Max to buy for them because he’d fallen in love with the dark green and black chequered pattern—even if Max wasn’t particularly a fan—is still on the floor.
In the middle of his rug are boxes. Packed boxes.
On Max’s side of the couch is a stack of notebooks. Their notebooks.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
I'm so used to getting damaged
And you know I hate this part
So, I gotta take advantage
Of a fully-broken heart
Won't you stay a little longer
Even if it's all pretend?
And maybe by the mornin'
I'll be ready for the end
Charles falls into his side of the couch, sinks like a rock into its cushions.
Is this how Max felt when he’d hastily packed for Pierre’s house two days ago?
Pierre.
He needs to call Pierre.
His arm feels heavy.
His mind races.
For the first time in two days, Charles had felt something. Now he just feels cold, hollow, and numb.
Had he done this to Max?
He’s running over the conversation in his mind. The one where he’d told Max to stop loving him, to just leave because Charles couldn’t take it. Couldn’t believe that Max loved him so truly, madly, deeply just for the sake of it.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
He’s so stupid.
Of course Max is gone. Max would do anything for him. Even leave just because he’d asked.
Demanded.
Oh-uh, oh-uh, oh-oh
Max left the notebooks.
It’s not that Max left the notebooks. Of course Max left the notebooks. Max was just as passionate about this dream of Charles’ as he is. Always has been.
It's that pride of place, on top of the pile, is the notebook labelled “Charlie’s First Album.” The one holding the finalised versions the songs they’d written.
I'm not ready to let you go, so
Just give me one more night
Hold me like you're still mine
Oh, love me for right now
Before you leave me
He can feel the tears coming, prickling at the corners of his eyes.
He needs to call Pierre.
Pierre’s phone rings out. Of course it does. He’s not awake yet.
He tries to call Pierre again.
He looks at the notebooks while the phone rings, and rings, and rings, and rings.
I know it's gonna hurt
Watching your footsteps turn
So, love me for right now
Before you leave me
He’s sobbing by the time Pierre arrives.
Pierre has a spare key, so Charles doesn’t need to get up to let him in. He gathers him into his arms.
French words of comfort fill the air, but Charles doesn’t want to hear them.
He’s in the wrong. He did this.
He broke up with Max first.
But Pierre doesn’t know that, because Charles couldn’t talk two days ago. Pierre only knows that they got into a fight.
Pierre who was Charles’ friend first, and has already picked a side.
Oh, oh
Oh, love me for right now
Before you leave me
Charles cradles his forearm. The one with the 16 tattooed on his skin. The one that matches with Max.
It would have also matched with Pierre if he hadn’t chickened out at the parlour. But he’d offered to pay for both Max and Charles’ designs before either of them could tease him about it.
Charles remembers how Max had then tried to talk Pierre out of it. They’d agreed beforehand that Max would pay for all three. If Pierre didn’t want it anymore, then he shouldn’t be punished for it; a tattoo was a big thing.
Pierre had gone and paid while Max was sat down in the chair.
Oh, oh
Oh, love me for right now
The boxes of Charles’ things eventually make their way into Pierre’s car, and the spare bedroom.
Fuck.
Whoa-oh, got one foot out the door
The love songs he and Max wrote don’t feel the same anymore.
Fuck.
Whoa-oh, 'cause you don't need me anymore (oh-oh-oh)
He rewrites them all—in a fresh notebook—flippings them on their head, and making them about lost love, breakups, heartache.
Fuck.
Whoa-oh, got one foot out the door
There’s a little studio a twenty minute walk from Pierre’s apartment. Him and Pierre lock themselves in the little recording booth. There’s an empty space next to Pierre at the recording station on the other side of the glass. Charles tries not to let it bother him.
Whoa-oh, 'cause you don't need me anymore
Pierre produces Charles’ first EP.
There’s a hollow where Max should be when he posts the music to YouTube.
You don't need me anymore
Pierre puts up with Esteban long enough to have him, Lance, and Mick help film Charles’ first music video.
There’s a hollow where Max should be when they’re scrolling through post after post of people, real people, enjoying his music, his art.
You don't need me anymore
Pierre takes on the mantle of his manager.
There’s a hollow where Max should be when celebrating the record deal with Sebastian Vettel.
Just give me one more night
Hold me like you're still mine
Oh, love me for right now
Before you leave me
Vettel helps Charles release an extended version of his first album to the world.
Sebastian introduces Charles to the backup band: Lewis, George, and Alex; and he adds his production flare to each piece. He doesn’t take Pierre off of music production, even though he is miles more juvenile in his approach.
“It’s part of the charm of Leclerc: the sound. I don’t want that to change, even if we are adding a few extra instruments,” Seb said, sitting down in the recording booth.
I know it's gonna hurt
Watching your footsteps turn
So, love me for right now
Before you leave me
Charles has to submit the list of people who worked on the album to Seb.
It’s the writing credits where Charles stalls. He’s looking at what he’s written for every song: ‘Leclerc, Max Verstappen.”
He stares for a long time.
It looks wrong.
It’s funny. Pierre and Charles hadn’t known to put any credits on the first EP on YouTube. It was only the YouTube channel—Leclerc—that people had to go off of.
It feels wrong, ‘Max Verstappen,’ but Charles can’t not name him. That would be infinitely worse than whatever strife this feeling is causing him.
When Pierre glances over at the document, he scoffs. “He’d hate that.”
That’s it.
He would. He would hate the attention that would come with being a co-writer.
“But I can’t not credit him. Half of the lines are still his.”
Oh, oh
Oh, love me for right now
Before you leave me
“I’ll figure it out,” Pierre promises, and Charles is all too happy to leave that conundrum to his oldest friend.
When Charles gets his hands on the CD booklet a week later he finds the solution: ‘Emilian, Leclerc.’
He hopes Max doesn’t hate him too much for the credit. Maybe he can use the money to open that coffee shop he’d been dreaming of between writing sessions. For longer than Charles had ever truly considered making music for a living.
Oh, oh
The inevitable happens.
The internet realises that Emilian is Charles’ ex who must have helped him write the songs before they split. Before Emilian broke Charles’ heart. Tore it to shreds. Stomped it down flat on the ground.
On the Leclerc channel, they dig up old videos. Original versions of the songs on the album, and jam sessions. But Max didn’t like to appear on camera, and his voice wasn’t very distinctive, so the trail goes cold.
They sounded a lot more in love back then.
Oh-ooh, love me for right now