Chapter Text
7
Max is seven years old, clutching his helmet tightly between his fingers, eyes wide, when his papa tells him that soulmates aren’t real. A myth, he spits, face red and purple, Made to make fools of us all.
But why, Papa? Max questions, too young and innocent in the ways of the world to understand why his father is so upset about the idea of soulmates, and why him asking about it is so frustrating. What about the strings?
Papa’s face screws up even tighter than before, and he lands a heavy hand on Max’s shoulder, too tight to be anything but a warning for silence. You be quiet about the strings now, Max, and that’s final. I won’t have my son spreading around baseless rumours that will reflect badly upon us.
And Max, little Max with his scraped knees and blushed-red knuckles, for the first time in his life wants to argue with his papa. But even he knows that talking back will lead to nothing more than a good clap around the side of his head.
So, he stops thinking about it. Or, he tries at least.
It isn't hard because nobody else ever seems to notice them, at least not the way that Max does. Nobody ever seems to notice the way they never get tangled, no matter how long they are, or that the brightness of their colour never seems to fade over time, no matter how old the person is that they’re attached to.
No matter. Max knows he should not wonder about such silly things, and focus on racing instead. He’s going to be a Formula One driver one day, just like his papa, and he’s going to make him proud. Maybe then his papa will greet Max with a smile, instead of his usual frown.
The existence of the strings is unimportant, just like the idea of soulmates, no matter what other people choose to believe. They’re only a distraction from what truly matters, and that is winning.
Winning is everything.
Max ignores the strings, doesn’t ever mention them aloud again like his papa said. Soulmates aren’t real and the strings don’t exist, he repeats within the echoes of his mind, imitating the words of his father because his papa is always right and Max shouldn’t question him on matters such as this.
But… could his papa be wrong?
He doesn’t want to consider the idea of his papa ever being wrong, but the subject of soulmates and strings has nothing to do with racing or cars, so maybe his papa misunderstood? It’s impossible for one person to know everything, no matter how smart or certain they seem. Maybe Max wasn’t clear with his questions and maybe papa hadn’t understood what he had been trying to ask.
Afterall, Max has been able to see the strings for as long as he can remember. They’re thin and red, hooked onto the end of a person’s smallest finger, travelling down into the space between buildings, around corners, and farther than Max's eyes can follow.
Sometimes they’re solid, like the time Max reached out to touch his mama’s and it sprung back tightly into place. Other times they’re intangible, disappearing through walls and beneath the floor, invisible in their quest to find the other person they’re connected to.
Everyone has a red string. Well, every human Max has met has one, he’s never seen an animal have one before. Though maybe that’s because they don’t have pinkies.
The strings aren’t proof that soulmates are real. Max used to think everyone could see the strings, that he wasn’t special, until he asked his papa why he couldn’t feel his string become so thin after he and mama had a big fight one night with lots of shouting.
Some older boys on the track where Max practiced had been talking about soulmates. They used lots of words that he didn’t understand, and they definitely weren’t being nice about the girls they were talking about – mouths slick with the smoke they were puffing out in big clouds of white – but he was smart enough to know that they shouldn’t be saying those things.
When they noticed him listening, they’d become quiet right away. Max thinks it was because of the bad words and not because they were talking about soulmates. Feeling brave, he’d asked them about their strings (no one at home had ever talked about them before after all, so how was he to know what they were?) and whether or not they knew who was on the other end of them.
That’s a myth! the boys laugh, No one can see those, and Max turns red from embarrassment, feeling the flush spread from the tops of his cheeks to the tips of his ears. Then they told him to go away and keep their secret of white smoke or else they'd find him and make him regret it. Scared and convinced they were making fun, because how else could they know about soulmates but not the strings that tied everyone together?, Max turned and left, shamefaced with only a twisting feeling in his tummy to show for it.
Max likes keeping secrets, but he likes sharing them even more. He wants to tell someone about the strange strings only he seems able to see, and that he doesn't understand why nobody else ever notices them. That’s why he tells his papa. And that's why his papa is mad.
It all comes out in a useless babble of questions and half-finished statements, his words stumbling over each other on the way out of his mouth. Max never knows how to talk to his papa unless it’s about racing.
Because surely if soulmates were real then why didn’t those boys? Two of their strings connected you know, just like yours and mama’s! What do they mean? I can’t be the only one who can see them, but those boys said they weren't real... They're real aren't they papa? Do you think I have a soulmate, a string just for me?
That's when his papa's face started to change colour. Max didn’t do much more talking that. Papa uses the same word that the older boys at the track when they were telling him off for listening in on them when he wasn't supposed to. Myth, meaning something that a lot of people believe in but it is in fact not real. Max decides that if the strings are a myth, then seeing them must be something he imagined. Or perhaps he simply isn't supposed to tell anyone else about them. They're hard to forget, they're so noticeable after all, but maybe they really are make-believe. Now, he knows better than to ask questions that only make papa angry.
The thing is, Max can see everyone else’s string but his own. He doesn’t know whether that means that it's invisible to only him, or if he simply doesn’t have one at all. The thought of not having a string makes him feel strange inside, like he’s lost something important but can’t remember what it was, so he ignores it.
Max is good at ignoring things, it’s one of the things he does best. Besides winning, of course.
9
Max is nine and he still sees the strings. They never disappear, no matter how hard he tries to forget that they’re there, just like his papa told him to all those years ago.
He hasn’t told anybody else that he can see them, although he’s sure they’re real now. He’s not a stupid baby anymore, and Max knows better than to believe in things that only exist inside his head. He's pretty sure his brain isn't defective, so that just means that everyone else's is. Of course, he doesn't tell anyone that, because mama says calling people stupid is rude, but it's not like mind reading is something that exists only out of comic books. No one will ever know that he thinks they're stupid unless he tells them, although sometimes he does that anyway. He does his best not to, but no one believes him when he explains that anyway.
So, maybe soulmates are still a myth but the strings are not. He tries not to think about them anymore. Mostly, he succeeds. Sometimes, though, curiosity gets the better of him.
The Red Thread of Fate is what one old library book calls them, and many others do as well. Max finds it tucked away on a shelf between stories of ancient gods and fairy tales, its pages yellowed with age and filled with drawings of little red ribbons winding around people's fingers. He doesn’t see how a stupid piece of string can decide who someone is destined to love forever until they die. Surely people are allowed to choose for themselves? It seems ridiculous, when one truly thinks about it.
Soulmates exist in many forms and mean something different in every story. Some books insist they are lovers. Others say they can be friends, family, or anyone important enough to change the course of your life. (The thought of a string connecting siblings to each other makes him feel strangely sick inside, although something is wrong, though he can't exactly explain why). Most people seem to believe in one version or another, even though they don’t have any proof of them existing anymore.
Thousands of years ago, it was said that people used to be born with two faces, and four arms and legs each, until they were forcibly split apart by the gods, condemned to wander the earth searching for their missing halves. Max resists the urge to run his hand over his pinkie finger, to feel for the non-existent string he cannot see but secretly hopes is still there. He catches himself just before he gives in, frowning at himself instead. Foolish, he thinks, because if he had a string surely he would be able to see it.
Myths, he remembers papa saying. Myths do not help him win races, they only distract from the reality of what is in front of him, and his future, which lies in F1.
He snaps the book shut and dust goes flying everywhere. Max resolves that he will forget about strings, soulmates, and all of the unanswered questions that come with them. He will be the best Formula One driver in the world one day, and he will not fail.
Winning is everything, and winning has nothing to do with fate. Who cares about stupid soulmates anyway?
13
Max is thirteen and Charles Leclerc is annoying.
He is perhaps the most annoying boy Max has ever met, though Charles would say the same thing about him in turn if asked. It is difficult to get along with the other boy, on track or off it, when all Max wants to do is shove him into a puddle. It does not help that Charles seems to love pulling on his non-existent pigtails like they are two children in a school yard. Max wants to turn up his nose at his antics, because of course he is above such silly tactics designed to frustrate the enemy and make them weak. Mind games should have no place on the racetrack, only talent.
Of course, Charles loves to make fun of him. Max does his best to ignore the other boy, even though he makes himself very easy to notice. Charles is loud in a way that Max has never been allowed to be, even though the other boy seems to be shyer than him at times. Charles laughs freely, smiles easily, and never seems afraid of taking up space or drawing attention. His dad tells him that Charles is jealous, that he should not worry about what the other boys he compete with think, because they will not matter once he reaches Formula One. They'll all be left behind eventually.
(Maybe Charles is good enough for F1, though, a tiny part of Max whispers. Maybe).
Charles does not win as much as Max does, but he still wins enough. Often, he is the one coming second to the first-place trophies that are now beginning to litter the shelves of Max's home. Max thinks that Charles doesn't seem particularly bothered by losing, because Charles has a papa who always smiles at him no matter his result. Even if he crashes or doesn’t finish a race.
Sometimes, Max thinks that he would give up all the wins he has and take all the second places in the world if his own papa looked at him like that. Of course, he would never tell his father that. Second place is the first loser, after all.
Naturally, the strings do not help. They are all so distracting, although he does his best to ignore them while karting and eventually they all begin to fade into the background, becoming one with the scenery. It seems as though all anyone his age can talk about is soulmates. Max does not know why the topic is so interesting, they're here to race and not speculate or gossip about their supposed future partners that will come about as a result of destiny.
The only result they should be worrying about is where they finish in the race. He can't believe how easily people his age let themselves get distracted by fairy tales, they should know that soulmates are myths. It's almost common knowledge.
Max also cannot see Charles’ string, which proves his point for how strange the other boy is. That brings his tally up to two now, and Max decides to blame Charles for it because surely it’s his fault for interfering with his ability to see all of the strings. He even sees them in photographs and old movies when he knows to pay attention! Not that Max wants to be able to see who Charles' soulmate is, because they'll undoubtedly be just as annoying as the boy himself is.
Perhaps Charles is the defective one, not Max. Perhaps there is nothing wrong with Max at all.