End Game (Charles Leclerc x Max Verstappen)

All You Had To Do Was Stay

Charles Leclerc

The sunlight is blinding as I open my eyes. I vaguely remember getting into the taxi last night but I was very tired and Max was there. Oh yes, Max. I rub my eyes, clearing the sleep from them and sitting up to grab my phone. 

Max is sleeping on the couch and there are eight missed calls from Pierre... Attend. Pourquoi Max dort sur mon canapé? [Wait. Why is Max asleep on my couch?]  I know he brought me to my room but why is he still here?

"Max?" I call, voice groggy from sleep and he groans without opening his eyes, "Why are you here still?" 

Max is groans again, rolling from his back onto the side so he can face me before he responds. "You asked, well really you begged, me to stay. So I did. I promised didn't I?"

I do not know how to respond for a few seconds. I think I may be in shock. Max Verstappen, youngest F1 driver to do almost anything, father to the cutest child in the entire world, had stayed. For me. He kept his promise, which is more than what most people have done. I cannot stop the small blush raising to my cheeks as I think about his selflessness. 

I find my voice eventually as he sits up, shirtless and only in boxers, and immediately lose my train of thought as his blanket falls to the floor. How can I not stare, it is impossible. Is it strange to say that he is beautiful? Since it is true I would guess no. And perhaps I am still feeling like our fuzzy sweet bubble from yesterday has not popped because I beckon him over with my hand. Max hesitates for a moment, seemingly looking for his pants, before deciding that he does not want to put on his tight fireproofs or race suit this early and instead wraps the blanket around his waist. Fuck me. He is beautiful. 

"Hmm?" He questions as he sits on the edge of my bed, very careful to keep at least a foot of distance between us. 

"I, uhm... thank you Max." I begin to say more but cut myself off when I see he is staring at my phone. "What?" I ask, a little bit scared of the answer.

"Have you..." Max clears his throat before continuing, swelling with nerves a little bit. "Did you look at the media? I'm so sorry. There was a photo and now people and starting rumours and I know you're you and I'm straight so it's not a big deal but if people find out and it's my fault and then the media would attack us and people can be very mean you know and I'm okay with you by the way but not everyone would be and I don't know how the FIA would react and they have maybe issued a statement already? I'm not sure cause its eight in the morning and it's not that serious but if someone exposes you then it would be and..." Max is talking very fast and I do not understand what is happening.

"Max." I interrupt, placing my hand on his forearm to make sure I have his attention. "Max. What are you talking about? What picture? And what do you mean I am me? That is obvious, no?"

He moves his arm away quickly before locking eyes with me. And... I did not know that it really was possible to see someone's very soul through their eyes. But Max, his eyes are blue like the sea before a storm and seem to hold so many different stories within them. I wish I had the time to look more closely and read each one. 

"Yesterday," Max begins with a deep breath. "After the race when I came to your drivers room. Someone took a picture when I was slipping in, without context it looks suspicious, like I'm trying to hide, and people. Well Charles, people are talking."

"What do you mean they are talking?" I let Max pull my phone from my hands as I begin to attempt to scroll through instagram. 

"About me. About you. And, well, about us."

"Yes?" I say confused, although it is more of a question than a statement. "People usually talk about us. Why is this important?"

Max looks at his hands for a moment before answering. "No Charles, I mean us, us. Like you and me. Together." He scrunches his face a little bit before adding, "Romantically."