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Losing always tasted bitter. Tart and unwanted, a sickly film across his tongue, one that clung to the roof of his mouth and no amount of swirlled water or saccharine-tinged alcohol could flush away the taste.
Losing always tasted worse when the victory was far too close, slipping through his clenched teeth and snatched right out of his mouth.
He had been there, up at the front of the pack, blood through veins and fuel through engine, but never fully untouchable.
Never quite far enough ahead.
The spin, the clash of the wall that jolted the car and sent waves of vibrations through him, challenging his bones by rattling them around, nothing more than pebbles in a pouch. There was a moment, infinitesimal in the grand scheme of things, not even two seconds long, and yet the static that buzzed in his ears and the hot puffs of breath bouncing against his visor made it feel like aeons. Then he was back, thrust into the roar of the machines as his fingers worked against buttons, the feel of clicking beneath gloves as he hauled a failing car forward, pushed himself as much as he could, as much as the car could, until the checkered flag danced its mocking dance above him, a wave of to and fro to finalise his fate.
Even then, it wasn't over, even then, with cruel tears that stung, that felt sharpened as they sat along his lashline and curved into his flushed cheeks, it was not over.
The meeting did not last long; he did not recall saying much, sat staring at the floor as if a teenager being scolded at school, nothing more than a teacher using pointed words meant to jab at him.
Twenty seconds, his finishing position dropped, and he had to step back out into the paddock and see the fans— people who travelled far and wide to see him, only to be rewarded a serving of disappointment, acrid against lips. He twisted his cap downwards, tilted the brim over his eyes in a hope that he could sneak out quietly, slink past the cameras that had already seen too much, already taken so much.
His hotel room was too quiet, the night a silent stretch of self-wallowing pity that only curdled as the morning dawn broke through the curtains.
Then he was on a plane, above clouds and so far away from the grounds that could swallow him whole, distant from the roads that took everything from him any chance they had. When they landed, home just miles away now, he felt too close to collapsing. His bed was a siren, the song calling to him, a promise of curling up under covers and allowing himself to not exist for a week, maybe more. Until the team started messaging, telling him where to go, what to do, how to improve, along with their false promise of a good car or good strategy, too sweet to ignore, but as soon as you got a taste, it shifted into something resentful.
The airport was quieter than most he had travelled through, with the safety of not many to see him, or people who did just simply not interested enough to care. So he skirted around the people, made his way through the airport, and out to where a car should be waiting for him.
The cool air hit, and he paused, stumbling to a stop as he eyed the car pulled up outside.
Sebastian Vettel stood, and if Charles squinted, he could see Kimi Räikkönen in the back seat.
"What are you doing here?" Charles spluttered, eyeing the car, eyeing the passenger, confused as Seb approached as if he had been ready for him.
"Not a great weekend, yes?" Seb replied instead of a real answer, a warm smile gracing his lips, too soft and kind for Charles' fragile state.
He bristled. It was a weekend to forget; the high of the sprint had long since worn off, and the weight of the race instead pulled down on him. "What does that have to do with this?" Charles spat back defensively, repeating his question, "Why are you here?"
Seb skirted around the car to open the boot of the vehicle, nodding towards Charles' belongings, "We're going for a drive."
"No, we are not."
"Yes, we are," the argument wasn't harsh nor brittle, but said with such gentleness that it left no room for any other say. Seb was always stubborn when setting his mind on things. "Don't you want to get away from it all, Charles? Even for just a little while?"
There in the car were two former Formula One world champions. Two men who had already been through the motions and had most likely been in Charles' position before countless times before. They had seen the highs and lows, been handed the wins and losses, had their own career peaks and then had to be privy to the fall.
Don't you want to get away from it all, even just for a little while?
He did like the sound of that.
"Where are we going?" He questioned.
Seb knew, there and then, Charles was caught in the netting, lured in to whatever plan this may be. He smiled, "Who knows?" It was not the answer Charles was looking for, though he wasn't surprised to receive it. "Let's just see where the world takes us, yes?"
Charles took a step forward, his wordless answer enough to show he was willing to indulge. Even just for a little while.
He shrugged off his bag, handed his suitcases over to Seb, who tucked them between the existing luggage packed there already. When Charles slipped into the passenger seat up front, feeling a little awkward making Kimi sit in the back, the other man simply shrugged but smiled.
"You are coming with us then?" He asked.
"I don't think Seb gave me a choice."
"You know how he can be," he mused, and Charles huffed at the statement. Then Kimi tacked on the end, "Glad you're coming with us, kid."
He added nothing more, just allowing the comment to settle over them, and before Charles could hook onto the words, to ask why Kimi would care so much, to ask why he was here too, Seb was in the driver's seat, engine stuttering into action, and they were pulling away.
They went through roads he recognised that turned into ones he'd never driven over, borders crossed, and scenery a changing backdrop as they stopped from place to place, settling just for a night before they were on the road and moved through the world again.
They stopped by sprawling hills, grassy near the bottom, the peaks reaching up to the sky, dusted with grey and plastered with rocks. Charles was a healthy person; he prided himself on fitness, though he wouldn't say a hike up some hills, bordering on a mountainside, was his ideal choice of a relaxing hobby.
Though Seb had been so eager, and Kimi strong but steady in the way he agreed, that Charles of course also voted to come along. He was already too far in now, already in the car, travelling to nowhere in particular with two men he had known for a long time now. He knew, through Seb, about the relationship when they were teammates and spending too many, perhaps too-tispy nights in hotel rooms confessing secrets and sins as Seb offered to be an anchor and Charles offered companionship. He learnt of the relationship between Seb and Kimi once when he barged in without knocking and caught sight of the two tucked away on the hotel bed, watching TV— nothing nefarious, but in such a manner that was too intertwined to be just friends.
Now, from time to time, Seb messaged Charles with updates. Between the hopeful encouragement you always texted before every race, and the stream of invitations to come round for dinner sometime, he would get snippets of a life that was not his, pictures not many got to see. He was sure a lot of the world had cottoned on to the fact that two world champions were in a relationship— there were a lot of familiar faces at the wedding, no matter how quiet and secluded it was, he was sure some strand of the public knew. Though the two got to live their lives, spend each day as their own, and Charles saw that through Sebastian's message updates.
Though he was in person witnessing it now, as Seb fished out suitable shoes for Charles to walk in, somehow always prepared for every occasion. He saw the way Kimi and Seb walked side by side, personal space a blurred line as they occupied each other's minds. Through brushed hands and shared looks and mumbled whispers in a frequency only those two could hear.
It was not something Charles had, nor was it something Charles longed for, though to watch it, to see the blossoming warmth, it buzzed with an air of security around him.
He followed along, conversation filled the time, and the weight of hiking dissipated as they neared the top.
Then the path opened up, and they were there, everything felt so small below, far away as if a different world to where he was, as if he was on an entirely different page of the story.
Up here, he truly felt untouchable. Not the false sense of security the start of a race provided, not when you were only two seconds ahead, and a hungry car behind was breaching the line to pass you. No— up here, the air felt clear, and his skin felt light, and no one could get to him.
For a moment, he felt as if he was on top of the world and maybe, just in that moment, that was what he needed.
When he turned to look at Seb, who watched with gleaming eyes and cheeks warm with a prideful flush, Charles realised Seb knew all along, too. That Seb, despite not exactly knowing where they would end up, believed that this would help, even just for a minute, even for a few seconds, enough to let him feel invincible to the problems his life produced.
When he stepped back to them, Kimi moved away to take photos of the landscapes— Charles realising it was so that he and Seb had a sliver of privacy.
"Thank you," Charles mumbled.
Seb responded not with words, but a ruffle to Charles' hair— an action Charles would usually shy away from, not wanting his hair a mess. Though here, with just the three of them, he accepted it, a warm jolt up his spine and the buzz at the nape of his neck as they started to make their way back down again.
Rows and rows of strawberry plants lined up, with bursts of red that popped against the wash of green. He held the basket in his hand, and the image felt childish somehow. He felt that it was too naive to be here when a call of his name, a promise of sim racing and training, tried to snag him back.
Though Seb, in a bucket hat and shorts too bright compared to the cream of his tee, beamed as he made his way up to the field. Kimi tagging afterwards, sunglasses and a smudge of sunscreen across his cheek that hadn't blended in properly. Neither seemed bothered, neither felt out of place, and so Charles stumbled behind as they opened up the gate and made their way through the shrubbery.
For a moment, he stood there awkwardly, parked up next to an inviting splotch of red. When he looked to the side, Kimi was chuckling as Seb delicately placed a picked strawberry in his mouth; he dismissed all his worries.
An escape, to get away, to feel life a little differently than how he usually does.
So Charles threw away any concerns, any doubt he was too old for this, and picked his first strawberry, a soft tint of rosy red left against his fingertips. Then another, and another, until the thoughts of simple embarrassment left him, and his basket was half full.
"Hey, look Charles, it's us!"
He looked over to Sebastian, padded towards where he was pointing, a small cluster of strawberries. Three, to be exact. Two bigger and a smaller one just below them.
"It is us?" He echoed, slightly confused.
"Yep, this one is me," Seb pointed to one of the bigger ones before moving along, "that's Kimi, and finally the one below is you."
Charles tried his best not to cry, cheeks flushed and grip tightening around the handles of his basket, knuckles blanching.
"Then we need to take them," he managed out, willing his voice not to tremble, not to show how close he was to shattering at the thought that Seb saw the berries and thought of him— as if a little family perched amongst the leaves. "It is destined, no?"
"Of course, and I want them to go in your basket," Seb proclaimed, snapping each strawberry off its stem, placing them gingerly into Charles' pile. "That way you know we are with you then, isn't that fun!"
Charles nodded, words lost on him, and the way Seb nudged their shoulders together told him everything he needed to know.
Once back, trunk open and muddy shoes discarded, Seb was rummaging around to find spare containers to put their goods into.
"I can make jam with this," Seb smiled to himself as he boxed up all their goods into a freezer box— again, somehow prepared for anything and everything they could possibly face on this trip.
"And I will bake a cake with it," Kimi added.
"You bake?" Charles found himself asking, not able to hide the surprise colouring his tone.
Kimi nodded, not offended by the shock, "I do. I like baking with all the fruit and vegetables Seb grows. He can make a really good jam or chutney too."
"Oh, that sounds very nice."
"We will make you something," Seb offered.
"Oh no, you really do not have—"
"Nonsense," Seb cut in, hand waving through the air to dismiss Charles' retort. "Your favourite is still strawberry jam, yes? Seedless, because you did not like the texture otherwise?"
"You remembered?"
"Of course I remembered," Seb grinned. "So I will make jam with the strawberries we all picked, and Kimi will make you a Victoria sponge, and you will come visit us and eat it, yes?"
It was not a suggestion, but an offer that Charles had no say in his choice. Though as he looked at Seb and Kimi, the former still smiling proudly, the latter graced with a small smirk, he knew he would never say no to the offer anyway.
The car pulled into a spot by the beach, deserted spaces on either side of them, the day almost over and the surrounding lands peacefully quiet. With the sun setting, the sky was tinted peach and streaked with a ripened orange, like peels, waxy and ringed through the clouds. The temperature dropped, but still alluring enough for them to stop here and get out.
Seb was at the wall, sat atop of it way back by the car as he watched Charles crunch down the gravelled stones and step onto the sand. Kimi was two steps behind, always allowing a pleasant distance in case Charles declined the company, but close enough to show he was not alone.
"It is very pretty, yes?" Charles mumbled as he stopped, sea lapping at his feet, the quick bursts of freezing water, gone before the chill could settle, a constant dip and peak.
"Yes, it is," Kimi agreed, the conversation enough of an allowance to step up beside Charles now, both looking out at the stretching ocean.
"I wish I could be out there sometimes," Charles said suddenly.
"No, you don't."
A pause, then: "No, I do not. You are right."
"You could never leave the track. I see you in Seb all the time. He thinks about racing still, I don't think it ever truly leaves any of us," Kimi spoke quietly, words just gracing Charles' ears, a secret given just for him to keep.
"The thought is nice— to be out there with nothing to worry about," he commented casually, despite the conversation not being casual at all, feelings deep-rooted and an uncertainty of whether he would snap. "But you are correct. I care too much for racing."
"Even if your team fails you time and time again."
That was certainly a talking point— a sore one, too. Charles knew Kimi was privy to a collective of teams over the years, the ones that supported him, the ones that hoisted him up, and the ones that schemed behind his back, the ones that never had belief to begin with.
"I'm not asking you to leave them," he continued, "Because I know, no matter what anyone says, that won't change your mind. I'm not here to do that."
It was true— his team, as red as the blood pumped through his veins and coursing through his heart, was too intertwined with his DNA. His strands, a helix of tyres and tarmac and the smell of champagne, all blanketed in burning smoke and black fur as hooves cantered across the pavers, the whinnying a call to battle, but the mane to garb onto was too sleek for his fingers.
"Then why are you here? Because Seb came?"
"Not really," Kimi answered earnestly. "Seb told me about his idea as soon as we finished watching the race. He has been thinking about visiting you for some time. He didn't ask me to come, nor did he expect me to, but I chose to follow him. I wanted to be here."
"Why?" Charles' voice cracked, making him feel incredibly small.
"So you know you are not alone." An answer so simple, yet connotations far more complex. "So you know it's okay to be sad, it's okay to be angry, and it's okay to be disappointed."
"What you and Seb have is special," Charles said, the thought random but somehow grounding, someone tying him to the conversation, "I do not have that with anyone."
"Do you want to have what Seb and I have with someone?"
He thought for a moment— even if he knew the answer. Sometimes, he wished he could yell it from the rooftops, telling the world who he was, spreading out the complex problems he'd faced growing up when friends, his family, his brothers, all found people— some would come and go, some would come and stay— whereas Charles was forever the outlier. Always the difference. He thought of a moment where he could tell people, journalists snapping up his confession like piranhas teased with fresh meat. Then sometimes he wished he'd never have to— he never had to tell anyone, and that could stay the same forever. His own slice of himself for no one but himself to experience.
Here and now, Kimi felt worthy of the truth. He'd been here, even with his small amount of words; his presence was solid and his intentions pure.
"I do not want that with anyone, no," he answered finally.
"Then you find different comfort, yes?" Kimi pointed out. "And that comes from friends or family. It comes from me and Seb."
"I could never ask you to babysit me, that would not be fair on you two."
"Then, lucky for you, we don't see it as babysitting," he shot back and before Charles could sneak in a rebuttal, he added, "and good thing you don't need to ask, because we offered already."
"And if I don't deserve this?"
"You do deserve it, Charles," Kimi glanced over, having spent the entire conversation looking towards the ocean. Green eyes, splashed with golds and blues and every colour Charles could think of, a forever-changing swirl of truth and honesty that glistened under the setting sun. "You deserve it all."
His breath hitched, his lip trembled, and he bit down so hard, teeth digging into pink, feeling a speck of blood bubble through the cut. He broke first, looking back to the explanation of blues, the eyes holding too much history and knowing and understanding for Charles to bear.
Salt mixed with the breeze, crisp as it filled each large gulping breath, the slight sting at the back of his throat, and the subtle dampness that mingled into his hair. He looked out to the ocean, to the water carrying the glittering diamonds of the sun's rays, bouncing off each wave in a shattering kaleidoscope of iridescent shards. The stage in front of him, the swaying foam, green and teal and turquoise streaks of paint against the canvas of the steely blue sky.
"Do it, just let go."
And so Charles did, with the sky as his witness, the sea as his muse, and the tears that burnt as they carved down cheeks in arching, tumbling droplets.
A hand found his own, calloused fingers that wrapped around Charles' taut, rugged skin. The tether for him to grasp as the weight of the world— the championship, his dreams, everyone he had lost, but he had promised to make it far so they could look down from the skies above with smiles on their lips— tumbled down, down, down, shattering against rock and sand. Through it all, a hand held his own, a silence that comforted rather than suffocated wrapped around them both, and the sun pulled itself along the horizon to cast them in a bronze glow.
Unexpected rain cut through the sky, sheets of pearlescent droplets that flashed under the grey of the clouds. It was still light, the slate grey not yet turned into a sooty coal, the type that spoke promise of the sun breaking through in pointed rays, making way for peeks of blue to poke past.
The weather swarmed around the car, the mist of the rain bouncing off the road, coating the windshield as the wiper tore through it. Kimi tapped his finger against the wheel, the radio turned all the way down— enough to be there to fill the gaps, but quiet enough to allow conversation. Seb sat in the passenger seat up front, eyes tracing the racing droplets drawn across his window. Through them, he watched the world pass in a blur and at some point, he turned to Kimi, wordlessly tugged on his sleeve, and they were pulling into a layby next to an open field.
"Why have we stopped? Is something wrong?" Charles asked, unbuckling to lean forward between the two front seats.
Seb turned, a mischievous grin plastered on his face, "Want to come dance with me, Charlie?"
"Dance‽" He spluttered, glancing sideways to the rain, "Seb, you can not be serious—"
But Seb had already opened the door, barrelling out and slamming it behind him, vaulting over the wooden fence— the only thing that was stopping him from getting into the field.
"Well then?" Kimi prompted softly, "You're not going to make him dance all by himself, are you?"
Charles looked back outside. Seb stood, head tipped back, and arms spread wide as the rain drenched him, and realised life was far too short to be concerned over trivial things like getting wet.
It was cold as he stepped out, the fence slippery as he pulled himself over, unsure how Seb even managed to be so nimble with his leap, but he landed on the other side, grass squelching under his shoes, blades sodden with the downpour that hadn't let up since early that morning.
Seb was watching from where he stood, eyes shining through the haze of the rain, waiting for Charles to make the first move.
Charles ran.
Seb, of course, followed.
Charles felt a laugh bubble up from deep within his chest, something foreign and untouched, a feeling he hadn't grasped onto in so long— but now, wet hair plastered to his forehead, clothes already a second skin with how they clung to him, he laughed, full and loud, and felt the vibrations hum through his chest.
He almost slipped, uncaring about a faceful of dirt, but Seb was there to catch his hand and spin him around. He was there to initiate the movements, to sway and jump and pull and twirl. Charles was no dancer, nor was Seb by the looks of it, but protected by the curtain of rain, no one needed to see their shambles of a dance, mismatched feet and ruddy cheeks, as Seb almost fell too, but Charles returned the favour by pulling him up.
Then he was pulling him too much, both falling backwards and into the puddle of mud and grass, stains seeping through cotton.
Charles looked over to Seb, who met his gaze, and they both burst out laughing.
When the laughs turned to giggles and then chuckles, finally something softer, Seb helped them both up and back to the fence. Back to the car, where Kimi had already laid towels over the back seats, allowing the two of them to bundle up in the back as Kimi put his foot on the pedal again.
Pierre always spoke so fondly of the stars, but Charles never sought the same rush his friend got when looking up to the expanse of twinkling specks. He'd never felt the surge of joy gazing towards something so huge and unreachable, never one to fully grasp the need to be so close to the stars above.
Now, however, he understood.
It was stunning: a painted illustration hung in a gallery, golds and silvers framing the sky in such a way that mesmerised him. Something mystical, so out there and unlike anything he'd ever known.
Perhaps the company made him see the world differently.
Perhaps the right company allowed him to appreciate the things he'd never thought to appreciate before.
It was a tender moment, Kimi and Seb tucked into one another, Kimi's head on Seb's shoulder, slotting perfectly into the crook of his neck. Stars spread across the sky, the warmth of an evening breeze tinged cold as night surged on, but mild enough to enjoy the presence of the sparks watching over them.
Yet, even as the two shared the space together, Charles did not feel as if he was intruding.
He felt as if he belonged.
Him, Kimi and Seb, the stars bound to the endless canvas of velvety black, being their observers, the only ones privy to the soft moment shared between— not just two, but three, because Seb twisted around, looked over to where Charles still stood, a little awkwardly, but more comfortable than he first thought.
Seb silently patted the blanket beside him, the side which Kimi did not occupy.
Charles clicked in as the missing piece of a puzzle, the last one, all jagged edges and his print faded from time left in the sun too long, but here and now, under the night, that didn't matter because he managed to make a whole. A hand carded through his hair, slender fingers that unknotted the curled strands, nails that scraped rhyming zigzags across his scalp.
A star dazzled as it arched through the sky, before disappearing forever, a blip in the story, so small and quick you could blink and miss it.
Charles had not missed it.
"Shooting star," Seb muttered out loud, "make a wish."
Charles wished.
He wished, and he wished, and he wished, and he decided, for tonight, he wouldn't let go.
Cobbled streets and dusty buildings, paved with planters that sprouted colour as they walked through the passageways. It was calm, the sun shining down and the sky cloudless as Charles made his way towards a secluded area.
It was shaded, a bench hidden amongst a trellis that arched over it, vines threaded through the slats and pink buds blossoming amongst them. It was just outside the main buildings, on the edge of a park, situated in a quieter part of the town they stopped at. He sat, their seat now secured as he waited for Kimi and Seb to return.
His phone had been going off all day. He'd made a habit of ignoring it entirely ever since Seb and Kimi picked him up from the airport, the notifications silenced and swiped away. Though now, with almost half his time gone, the next race looming over him and soon to pounce, he turned the rumble back on, his phone a near constant vibration.
He flicked through some of the messages, some mentions on social media, talks from team chats and questions of where he was and when he would be back.
He knew he needed to return soon; the thought prickled at the back of his mind like brambled thorns.
"What's got you frowning at your phone?"
He blinked up. Seb stood with two cones of ice cream in his hands, both double scooped. Kimi sat down next to Charles, his own pot already half eaten, the vanilla ice cream obviously appreciated with the way it was being devoured.
"Here," Seb passed over one of the cones. A light, creamy scoop on top of the chocolate-coloured one. "Fior di latte and milk chocolate."
"My favourites," Charles mumbled, still managing to get taken aback by how many snippets of information Seb had held onto despite it being so long since they had hung out like this. He took the cone, "Thank you."
Seb, by the looks of it, had two fruity scoops. If Charles had to guess, the pink being strawberry, he could recall Seb's sweet tooth for the fruitier flavours. Then the orange one, perhaps mango. Seb sat down on the other side of Charles, the three side by side as they ate.
It was Seb who broke the silence a little later, "So what was on your phone then?"
"Ah, team stuff, you know how it is," Charles knew he did not need to get into the specifics because both Kimi and Seb would understand the semantics.
"You're going to do great, Charles. I know you will."
It hadn't been what he was expecting, head snapping towards Seb.
"I mean it," Seb reiterated, "it doesn't matter about the past race, think about the next one, yes?"
"And if I can't do it?"
"I— no, we," he corrected, gesturing between himself and then over to Kimi, "both know you will."
Charles held his breath for a moment, lungs tense before he exhaled slowly. He thought of the past week and a half, the knots in his shoulders gone, the weight against him relieved, his chest lighter than it had felt in months.
The upcoming races were daunting, he would not deny the fact, but it felt a little easier, even by a little.
"You know," Charles spoke carefully, words feeling usually clunky in his mouth. He thought of the races, realised he did not want to speak of that— not out of shame or fear, but simply because there was something more important on his mind. "I wanted to thank you both."
"You don't have to—"
"No," he cut Seb off, " I do not, but I want to. Because you have— well, you have made me feel loved in a way that I have not felt in a long time, I think."
He swallowed, the confession thick on his tongue.
"I'm really glad," Seb replied tenderly. "I am glad you feel so, that means we accomplished what we came here to do."
"You wanted me to feel loved?"
"Partly, yes, because you are loved, Charles," Seb smiled warmly. "I felt you needed the escape. Needed to get away. And needed to know you still have family here, even if not by blood, waiting for you to come home."
Charles nodded, once again rendered to no words. Though he did not need any, not with the way Kimi ruffled his hair, or the way Seb leaned over to knock their shoulders together. They knew what he wanted to say, even without saying it.
The race would come and go, the championship would come and go, and one day Charles would wear the crown.
But family— the one you got to choose— he knew that was forever.