End Game (Charles Leclerc x Max Verstappen)

Haunted

Charles Leclerc

This season is going to shit. We have three races left, I am currently sitting on Max's hotel room floor in Bahrain after Friday's practice sessions. I am eighth in the standings. Number fucking eight. I mean no disrespect to any of my friends but I should at least be winning against Albon god damn. This is a fucking joke. And Ferrari is sixth in constructors. How is that even possible? The only teams we are beating is Alphatauri, Alfa Romeo, Haas and Williams. I did not sign up to drive for a midfield team, Ferrari is supposed to be at the top.

"Jesus Leclerc if you don't breathe in the next thirty seconds your head might explode." Daniel laughs as he says it, once again caught up in a game of chess with Max, but it is very annoying that he can read me so easily. 

I do not respond and instead roll my eyes as I dig into my pasta which was delivered to the hotel room, Max and Daniel continue their game of chess. 

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Practice 3 happens Saturday morning and then qualifying is shit, I qualify P12. If I am honest I would really like to go tuck myself in bed at Monaco, maybe even let Maman dote over me, and sleep until next year. The whole thing is very stupid. Maybe I am stupid for thinking I have a chance. 

It is nearly midnight as I check the very bright clock on my nightstand, squinting my eyes to try and lessen the bright light, and I should really be asleep. Instead I am scrolling through instagram looking for videos to send Max. Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas avec moi? [What is wrong with me?] I should be sleeping and preparing for my very important race tomorrow but instead I am like a teenage girl trying to find an excuse to text her crush. Ce n'est pas que j'ai le béguin pour Max est mais... Non. C'est inacceptable Charles. [It's not that I have a crush on Max but... No. It is unacceptable Charles.]

My eyelids are falling closed and I am forced to keep them open, but perhaps it is a sign I should go to sleep, yes? Tomorrow is an important day for me. I must perform my best. I quickly send Max a text before I can sleep.

[Link: TikTok @norris4liferrr - I can't with these two! I need Charles and Max to have more race moments] (From Charles)

If I am honest I try to stay awake until my phone dings with a response but I am just so tired and soon sleep has claimed me. 

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Sunday is going as it normally does, strategy meetings, some press, discussions with too many people and, eventually, I get changed for the race. 

My heart beats quickly as I glance Max in the Paddock, it is because of nerves, non? I am always a little nervous before the race. This is normal and does not in any way be a part of seeing Max in his tight navy fireproofs that hug his body perfectly. This is normal. 

The approach of the race start is a blur, people running around, engineers and mechanics and other people that I do not know or do not care about performing some task or other. But when I get to the grid my head is clear. 

C'est pour Jules et Papa. Tu peux le faire. Calmez votre coeur et conduisez. Allez Charles, tu peux le faire. Pour Jules. Pour Papa. Pour Jules. Pour Jules. Pour Jules. [It's for Jules and papa. You can do this. Calm your heart and drive. Come on Charles you can do it. For Jules. For papa. For Jules. For Jules. For Jules.] I repeat the words over and over in my head as the red lights begin to appear. 

Lights Out.

I hit the gas. And now we race. 

I am in the middle of the pack, expected but not very good. The wind is whipping around the car as I pierce through the air at a speed most people will never achieve. This is my home.