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This is my last night staring at the ceiling 'til the sunrise
Your eyes lighten up my dark side
24 hours 'til your lips on mine
Charles is in Max’s cafe.
Charles is in The Lion’s Den.
Charles is standing in front of him, no more than two metres away.
Charles is staring at Max, just as frozen as the Dutchman feels.
He stares into Charles’ green green eyes he hasn’t seen up close in person since they were filled with tears, telling him to stop loving him so much, not because it was stifling, but because he–he– Max still doesn’t know.
The songs Charles wrote by himself in the intervening five-six-seven years haven't told Max anything either.
No rhyme. No reason. No why. Just regret.
Max got the regret part.
And Max regrets a lot too.
Taste like red wine, I wanna take a sip until it runs dry
Charles is in Max’s cafe.
Charles is in Max’s cafe, and the only thing he can think is that Lando is never going to take the afternoon off again.
You on the horizon like a skyline
One more night 'til it's all green lights
There’s a gentil summer breeze coming in through the cafe’s open door.
He recognises that the bell going off wouldn’t have helped him, but he’d still have appreciated the warning.
Oh, I'm coming home
“Max,” Charles croaks.
Max swallows. “Charles. Pierre. The usual?”
“Yeah.”
“And one of these blueberry muffins, and a lemon tart,” Pierre adds.
The highs have left me low
The road is dark and cold, it's lonely on my own
Max is making Charles’ coffee order, very aware that the man himself is just staring at him two metres away. Not even.
Also Pierre is here.
Max wonders if Pierre brought Charles here.
He probably didn’t. Since he’s been to The Lion’s Den a couple times before, without Charles every time.
Max thinks that he should be entitled to a little bafflement. The ‘Leclerc’ is in his coffee shop.
Instead it is Charles who is frozen, unable to comprehend seeing Max out in public.
He places both cups carefully on the counter before moving to the register.
He grabs Ollie by the scruff of his neck—the British Boy frozen at the register like the super fan he is—and gently shoves him towards the backroom. “Take your break.”
He grabs the pastries Pierre wanted from his display case. He places them neatly on little orange napkins, and before Pierre can pull out his wallet Max says: “On the house.”
So, I'm coming home
Kimi and Ollie are screaming in the back room.
Max should probably tell them that the customers can hear them.
Except that Max is too busy staring at Charles.
Daniel comes out from the backroom. Which he wasn’t scheduled to do, but Max is useless and the other two aren’t much better.
There are fingers waving in front of his eyes.
“And here I thought you were the most normal about Leclerc.”
“Shut up Daniel.”
“Lando is going to be so upset he missed this.”
Oh, I'm coming home
Max shudders to think what must be going through Daniel’s mind when Pierre literally kicks Charles, and then the Monegasque is following the Dutchman to the backroom.
He wanted out of the corner of his eye as Ollie—who seems to have gotten a hold of himself during his fifteen minute break—snatches somebody’s phone right out of their hand.
Standing in front of Charles now, Max has no idea what to even say. It’s like his mind is blank, and everything he’s ever thought before is held just out of reach.
Charles speaks first. “I am sorry. I am so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I never meant it. When I said I wanted you to stop loving me. I didn’t. I was lost immediately. Which isn’t your fault, because I asked for it. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I know it has been a long time, and many things have changed.”
He swallows. He clears his throat. He looks away.
“This place is really nice. Do you own it? Of course you do, it is called ‘The Lion’s Den.’ Everything was really good. Which of course it was because you have always made good coffee. I noticed you got that machine you always wanted. But you cannot bake, so my compliments to the baker.”
Charles is rambling.
Max smiles a little. Fuck, he still thinks it’s cute.
Charles still isn’t looking at him.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I want– No. No. I’m–I’m just. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. If I could take it back I would. I would take it back every time.” he says, trying to bring himself to meet Max’s eyes.
Max is already looking at him.
Max doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He wants to reach out. Wants to pull Charles into his arms, and tell him that he’d let Charles take it back.
If Charles wants to take it back, Max will let him every time.
He doesn’t say that. He can’t. It’s too soon. They’re too raw. Too surprised at being in the same room.
“You can tell Danny yourself, about the pastries.”
Charles nods. His frame drops. He shuffles on his feet.
Max opens his mouth.
He closes it again.
He doesn’t know what to do with his hands.
He knows what he’d love to do with his hands.
“I am proud of you Charlie. You’ve made some really good music,” he settles on saying.
“I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“But you did.”
“I wish I didn’t,” Charles confesses.
And it kills him.
Good years, goin' 90 in a 50
Ollie seems to have lost it again.
So does Daniel, when Charles compliments him on his lemon tart.
Kimi is the most normal, but Kimi has always been the most normal about Leclerc.
It was never Max that was the most normal, but the most outwardly distant. For his own sake.
He makes the mistake of rolling up his sleeves, blaring the red thirty-three on his forearm to the room.
“Oh my god the font is the same!” Daniel shouts, pointing back and forth between Max’s thirty-three and Charles’ sixteen. “You have matching tattoos with Leclerc?”
“Permanent good luck charms,” Max says sardonically, and then immediately regrets his tone.
There’s an uncomfortable pause.
“Pierre was also supposed to get one, a number ten, but he decided that he didn’t want to get a tattoo at the last minute.”
“You can just tell them I was scared.”
“Oh Pierrot was terrified. I went first, Max second, and he was…”
Max leaves Charles to tell the story. He looks out the window, it’s an afternoon in the middle of the week, so it’s not super busy. Which is good. Because Charles is very famous, and this could get bad very quickly.
“Hey, Max.” Pierre gestures for Max to join him further down the counter. “I have not been a good friend to you. I should not have picked a side. I should have at least listened to your side of the story. I know you tried to call me back then.”
Max grimaced. “I let him have you. I gave up on this too.”
Pierre picks at what’s left of his muffin.
“Can we fix this?”
“We will be easier to fix.”
“I am not getting a tattoo.”
“Chicken,” Max automatically teases. “And that’s not what I meant. I meant. I meant that you and I will be easier to fix than Charles and I.”
“Do you want to fix things with Charles?”
Max looks over, to where Charles is taking silly selfies with his employees. “Yeah. Yes. I’ve always wanted to fix things.”
“Then why did you leave?”
“He asked me to stop loving him. You know I’d do anything he asked. Try too, at least.”
Pierre snorted, then he clears his throat, sobering. “I was very rude when asking about the new album. I am sorry.”
“It’s fine. You were right. They were good.”
“Good music does not excuse bad etiquette.” He smiles when Charles looks over at them curiously. “I need to be a better friend before I am worthy of matching tattoos. I dropped you without a second thought.”
"I gave up on this too," Max reminds him. “Will you get it this time?”
“If you’re paying.”
Max scoffs. “I was always going to pay for them. You went ahead to the counter while I was strapped to that chair.”
“I’m still not sorry about that.”
Our good year, is it just up at the beginning?
Near the fog's cleared, only blue skies
They got me seeing you for the rest of my life (rest of my life)
In a change of positions later that night, Max is up on stage, drinking a Red Bull, chilling with Lando behind the DJ table that’s set up there.
Daniel and Oscar are here too.
Daniel is hovering, hyping Lando up and generally getting in the way. Oscar is next to Max, calmly drinking his water.
He smacks Max’s shoulder. “Get out. I think I see Leclerc and Pierre Gasly at the bar.”
Max looks over. That certainly is Charles and Pierre striking Carlos dumb with nothing but their presence.
“Oh, mate! That’s what I wanted to tell you! Leclerc and his best-friend-producer-manager guy came into the shop this afternoon. Like fifteen minutes after you’d left.”
Lando scratches the record. Well, Max is pretty sure he plays a record scratch sound effect on his computer, but it causes the same effect.
“What? And I missed it!”
The music comes back on, a different song now.
“Why didn’t you text me immediately? I would have run back.”
Before Daniel can answer, Oscar is cutting in. “Leclerc was at the Den? What’s his order?”
“Woah, Oscar, letting your fanboy show! No idea. Maxie asked if they wanted the usual, and then didn’t elaborate. He didn’t even use the computer, just gave it to ‘em on the house.”
Lando snorts. “Reckon Ollie’d have died on the spot if he had to charge Leclerc for coffee.”
Max grinned, lifting his Red Bull for a swig. “He died anyway. I had to send him back for an early break.”
“How do you even know his usual?” Oscar asks, leaning in conspiratorially. “I always thought you weren’t as big a Leclerc fan as the rest of us, but knowing his order is super fan behaviour.”
“Pierre’s come into the shop before. Twice,” Lando says, before Max can open his mouth.
“And get this. Max already knows them. Max called Leclerc Charles.”
“Max did what?” Oscar shouts. “Max. Everyone knows that you aren’t supposed to call Leclerc by his first name if you find out what it is. It’s like an invasion of his privacy. ‘Cause he doesn’t want us to know.”
“Oh, mate. I think it was fine. You see, Leclerc recognised our Maxie here first. They know each other.”
“You know Leclerc?”
Max shrugs.
“Lando, why aren’t you also losing your mind over this?” The floppy haired blond asks his boyfriend. “This feels like the exact thing you’d go crazy for. I can’t be the only one freaking out.”
“I knew.”
“You knew?” both Aussie’s demand at the same time.
“When?”
“How?”
Lando makes a face. He glances at Max. He must find what he’s looking for, because he tells them. “The karting picture by the computer in the back: 16, 33, 10. Someone found a different copy and posted it to Twitter. Leclerc is 16, Pierre Gasly is 10, and… well. Max is 33 is he not?”
“Oh my god. I saw that on Twitter! Guess I’ve never been to the back of the cafe.”
“And you didn’t say anything?”
Max cuts in to save Lando. “Daniel, what's my middle name?”
“Emilian.” Daniel’s eyes widen. “Oh my god, it’s Emilian.”
“Yeah.”
It’s quiet up in the DJ booth. As quiet as it can be when there’s music blasting all around him.
“So, do we not like him?” Oscar asks.
“What?”
“He’s your ex.”
“I broke his heart.”
“Well that’s only his side of the story isn’t it? And you’re my friend. He’s just some famous guy I have a parasocial relationship with. You’re Lando’s Worst. Boss. Ever. I know you, we’re friends.”
Max meets Charles’ eyes out in the crowd, dancing with Pierre.
“We’re fine with Charles. I have bought you tickets to his shows, and Lando plays his music all the time. Like right now.”
Oh, I'm coming home
Max slips away to the bar four song charges later.
He orders three drinks from Carlos.
He doesn’t wait long before Pierre is snagging the one meant for him, and melting back into the crowd.
Charles takes in the empty seat next to him.
The highs have left me low
The road is dark and cold, it's lonely on my own
So, I'm coming home
Max and Charles talk at the bar like two strangers getting to know each other,
Charles with the music.
Max with the coffee.
Just like the first time.
That’s a lie. They grew up next to each other. But it’s a nice cyclic story that could make for a good song one day.
Oh, I'm coming home
Charles tells Max about the albums, and the music, and the stage lights, and the band, and the recording sessions, and the music video shoots, and five-six-seven years worth of funny stories.
Oh, I'm coming home
Max tells Charles about the shop, and his friends, and how he found these people to work for him, decorating the shop, he finally got those two cats he’s always wanted, additional cat stories.
Well, the clock keeps ticking, I'm burnin' through my minutes
Max takes the time to tell the tale of Lando and Oscar; mostly because it’s a funny story; partly because he can use it as a through line to cover the entirety of the years Max hasn’t seen Charles, not in person.
Charles is wiping away tears by the end of it.
“That must have been how Pierre felt, before we got our shit together.”
“Yeah it was about five-six-seven years before they got their shit together.”
It’s been five-six-seven years since Max and Charles have had a conversation.
They lapse into silence.
Max tells Charles that he’s proud of him again, for making it.
No, I can't call this living without you
“Not to be terrible. But I can see Lando vibrating out of his skin with the effort it’s taking him to not walk over here and use his excuse of knowing me to say hi.”
Charles laughs. “Which one?”
“Curly hair. Short.”
“The DJ from earlier?”
“Yeah.”
“I was going to go looking for him. His set was very good.” Charles gets up. “Let’s go meet your friends.”
“They just found out we know each other by the way.”
“Oh. Do they know we broke up?”
“Kind of hard for them not to know, with the songs.”
“Right.” Charles' shoulders sag a little.
“Hey, it’s okay. Don’t worry. I told them I am okay with you.”
“Do they believe you?”
“Yes. Because I always say what I mean.”
“Yeah.” Charles smiles. “You do.”
Yeah, the clock keeps ticking, burning rubber on these bridges
I'm a dead man livin' without you
Pierre slips back in behind them, grabbing the newly ordered third water from the bar top. “What’s Charles worrying about now? Sorry about earlier. It would have been suspicious if I didn’t let Charles go into your shop, and I didn’t see you through the window, so I thought it would be okay.”
“It is okay.”
Without you
There's no without you
So, I'm coming home
The highs have left me low
The road is dark and cold, it's lonely on my own
“I have the same number.”
“I don’t.”
So, I'm coming home
Charles pulls out his phone and texts Max.
Because he still has it memorised.
Oh, I'm coming home