Arthur kept waking me up every morning, he kind of made it a tradition whenever he was home. He wanted to be the one to wake me up and we'd go for a hike together. On Tuesday, the day before Charles had to leave for Belgium, I went on a hike with Arthur, went to dance practice and came home for lunch just like any other day.
But the second I walked through the door, Charles came at me and I knew by the look on his face that something was wrong. He was upset, worried and angry rather than sad, and the seconds it took for him to walk up to me I started fearing the worst. I don't know what I expected him to show me, but what he showed me on his phone was not what I was expecting.
Article after article with 'Verstappen' plastered over them. It was normal to see their names in articles every here and there, but looking closer you'd see there was nothing normal about the articles he was showing me. 'Inside source' kept repeating, and I know that you never want to see that in an article about you, because whatever just got out, you have to look through your inner circle of people to find out whoever would feel the liberty to give a piece of your life to the public.
My jaw fell open as I read the content of the articles written about Evie and Max's family. How their dad abused them as children, story after story about how they were beaten and neglected, even though that was far from the truth.
There is no denying that their dad was horrible to them and they're still working through what that man put them through as children, but the stories were simply not true, making it seem like he was even worse than he is. He never laid a hand on them. He'd been neglectful, but not to the exaggerated extent written in these articles, he'd been to the point where some parents may let it slide under 'tough love' even though no parent should have the expectations he had on his children.
I handed the phone back and immediately went to call Evie, knowing this is a nightmare for her. She doesn't want people to know about her dad, about her childhood in that light. It's a PR nightmare as much as it's a mentally draining nightmare to the whole family. Evie didn't pick up, she was unreachable and I guess that means she'd already seen them. I tried Max but the same thing there, so I texted Pierre trying to find out what's going on.
He told me they were having all different kinds of meetings in their kitchen. Her dad is there, they're with different PR managers and they're trying to figure out what to do about these damages. It's Max's home race, the focus is already on them enough. They're in the spotlight more than ever right now, this weekend specifically.
My heart was aching for Evie and Max, also their mother. Maybe a tiny little bit for her father because of the way he was painted in these articles. He's a horrible father, no denying that, but even I know that these articles were straight up lies. So I texted her, asking her to call me as soon as she got the time. I want to make sure she's okay. Then I packed a bag to be ready in case I just needed to get my ass on a plane over there to act as mental support.
Charles and I sat on the couch, watching everything unfold online. We were called up by Mia who asked us to stay as much out of it as possible. It's not our battle to fight and they should do it by themselves. I couldn't believe what she was asking us to do, but Charles refused to fight her on it. She knows better than us about it, so he didn't want to object. But I kept thinking that I refuse to just sit here and watch this happen to my best friend. If there is anything I can do to help, I will.
Pascale heard about it at work and came home equally as upset about it as I was, worrying about them and she kept asking if we'd heard from them. Arthur, who just landed in Germany, called me with rage about the articles. We all wanted to know who the inside source was, but it was impossible to think of anyone we know who'd do such a thing to them.
Later that night, Evie called me. She told me everything they were going to do to fix it, she told me her dad was there, she told me that she'd have to spend time with him in public to make people believe that the rumors were fake. They issued a statement as a family, but the public needs to believe it. They had figured out it was one of Evie's old childhood friends who had spilled the lies to the media, which just made me nauseous, because someone she'd trusted for her entire life just turned around and stabbed her in the back like that. They were taking legal action and I heard it in her voice that all of this was taking a toll on her, she was drained. Still she told me I didn't have to come there, as she needed to be with her family.
Charles went to Belgium the next day. He'd update me on anything I needed to know, how they seemed to be doing, what they were doing and how it was going for them. I knew Evie would be too busy dealing with it all to update me herself.
I had noticed it myself whenever I went to practice that the media was prying for any information they could get, which included waiting for me outside the studio and sometimes outside the house. They'd ask me questions about what my impression of Jos had been when I'd met him as a kid. If I had seen anything or could recall him being neglectful.
At first I ignored it. I walked past them, didn't even give them a second look. I walked straight past or told them straight up that I wasn't going to talk to them. But they never gave up, and I hated not being able to do something. My silence would seem suspicious, because if he wasn't neglectful and abusive, then why wouldn't I be able to say something? So one day I stopped and I listened to the incredibly stupid question being asked to me, already knowing what my answer was going to be.
"They didn't have as much as a bruise on their body growing up, stop buying complete bullshit," I said before walking off.
The video got out on the internet and Charles was quick to call me, letting me know that I should've listened to Mia's instructions, because we never know how this can come back and bite us in the ass. Not wanting to start an argument about it, I apologized, knowing I wasn't sorry for one second. But I didn't let it stop. I did the most subtle things, I knew people would see it and they'd weigh into it. I liked tweets and comments saying things that I thought were smart. And from what I had seen, the video of me helped.
Charles called me again about it, because Mia had brought it to his attention, but I told him that Mia is hired by him and though she has shown me the kindness of dealing with my PR as well, she can't tell me what to do.
"Ils s'en occuperont eux-mêmes," They'll take care of it themselves, he said with a sigh.
"Ils savent qu'Evie et moi sommes amis depuis qu'on est gosse, mon silence serait suspect," They know that Evie and I have been friends since we were kids, my silence would be suspicious, I argue, making the other side of the line go quiet for a moment. "Parce que si ce n'est pas vrai, alors pourquoi ne pouvons-nous pas le nier?" Because if it's not true, then why can't we deny it? I ask.
"Parce que ce n'est pas notre affaire," Because it's none of our business, he replied.
"Tu oublies que Max n'était pas obligé de nous aider avant, mais il l'a fait quand même?" Do you forget that Max didn't have to help us before, but he did it anyway? I asked him, trying to get my point across. Because he didn't have to even acknowledge the question about Charles and I, but he still did it because he wanted to help us out.
"Non, mais-," No, but-
"Si cela arrivait à Pierre, êtes-vous en train de me dire que vous resteriez assis et que vous laisseriez faire?" If this happened to Pierre, are you telling me that you would sit back and let it be?
"Non," He sighs after a moment of silence.
"Evie c'est mon Pierre, j'le laisse pas passer devant mes yeux," Evie is my Pierre, I don't let it happen before my eyes, I told him sternly. He goes silent again and I wait patiently for his response. Because how can he not get it? Evie is one of the most important people in my life and I hate that she has to go through this.
"D'accord," Okay, he said after a while, "Ne faites pas quelque chose d'irrationnel," Don't do something irrational, he told me.
The day after that, there was a video of him being asked about it on his way into the paddock. He didn't stop, he didn't turn to the person who asked the question. He looked straight ahead and walked away with the words;
"There is no truth to it."
Because I replied to one journalist, everyone else was hoping they'd get me to speak. The sneaky fuckers multiplied. I had to hike, because my usual running trail was filled with people trying to talk to me. Lorenzo had to drive me to my practice on Friday and Saturday and then he made sure I got home and told me to call him if I needed to go anywhere.
On Saturday, Elliòtt and I went in for a quick meeting with our coach, even though I told him that I want my weekends off, and Lorenzo, who was supposed to pick me up, wasn't there just yet. I stepped out and I saw them approaching me, acting like they hadn't been creeping around the corner or on the other side of the street. At the same time, my phone started vibrating in my pocket. I was surprised to see Charles' name on the screen, because he should be getting ready for his qualifying session. So I picked it up just as people started trying to talk to me.
I tried to listen to what Charles was saying, and there was no denying or missing the worry in his voice, but I couldn't hear a word because of everyone around me. I kept telling him to wait a second, to repeat himself, and then ass soon as I saw Lorenzo's car approaching, I rushed over and got into it, just as Charles says:
"C'est vraiment mauvais, Cece," It's really bad, Cece.
"Qu'est-ce que?" What is? I ask, the worst case scenario flashing through my mind once again. For the second time this week, I wouldn't be prepared for what he had to tell me.
"Anthoine s'est écrasé, ça n'a pas l'air bien," Anthoine crashed, it's not looking good.
The words he said took a second for me to register. I heard them and I stopped moving, staring straight ahead as Lorenzo started driving. I heard him asking me to put my seatbelt on, but I was still staring with my heart beating fast in my chest.
"Quoi?" I manage to stutter out, hearing Lorenzo tell me once again to put my seatbelt on, but I hold a hand up, telling him to shut the fuck up. I hear Charles breathing heavily, I hear him sighing. I hear him struggle and I know right then what he's telling me.
"Il a perdu le contrôle, Correa s'est écrasé sur son côté et l'a envoyé dans la barrière," He lost control, Correa crashed into his side and sent him into the barrier, he explains.
"Votre ceinture de sécurité!" Your seatbelt! Lorenzo raises his voice next to me, so I snap out of whatever state I was in just to put that stupid seatbelt on.
My heart beats faster and faster, I'm just waiting for Charles to tell me something that I already know in the back of my head. He wouldn't have called me for nothing. He's calling me because it's serious. Maybe because he doesn't want me to hear about it through social media or the news or the radio. We saw him recently. He's always been close to Pierre and Charles, it's not like he's a stranger. He doesn't want me to see it on TV like I did the first time.
"Je serai dans un avion dès que possible," I'll be on a plane as soon as possible, I say, determined, making Lorenzo snap his head my way. He knows I've been on standby for emergencies for Evie, but this is its own emergency.
"Non, Cece, tu n'as pas à être là, je ne pense pas que tu devrais avoir à-," No, Cece, you don't have to be here, I don't think you should have to-, he says but I cut him off.
"Je serai là," I'll be there, I tell him.
I wasn't allowed to be there when they lost their dad, I'm not allowed to be there for Evie more than I am. I'm sick of not being allowed to be there for my friends the way they're there for me. They think I won't be able to handle it, but I need to be there for them, for Charles and for Pierre, who might lose their childhood friend.
"Je suis sérieux, je vais bien," I'm serious, I'm fine, he says. I know he's lying. I can hear it in his voice that he's lying to me. There's no talking me out of it if he needs me, because it might be tough seeing something like that, but he was with me when it was Jules and showed me nothing but strength. So I want to do the same.
"Veux-tu que je sois là?" Do you want me there? I ask.
"Tu sais que je te veux toujours avec moi," You know I always want you with me, he sighs, "Ce n'est pas ça," It's not that.
"Alors laisse-moi venir," So let me come.
He sighs again and if I know him correctly he's running his hand over his face. The thought of him feeling like this when this has happened gives me a stomach ache and I want nothing but to be there and give him a hug.
"Je dois me préparer pour les qualifications, chérie," I have to get ready for qualifying, darling, he says and it baffles me that he's willing to get into a car after this. They're not giving them a break. Just like in Japan, they will continue like normal to not lose money, even though someone is fighting for their life in an ambulance. "mais penses-y, ne te précipite pas ici, penses-y," but think about it, don't rush here, think about it.
We say goodbye, and I tell him to drive safely, meaning it now more than ever. He's about to get into that car and drive at that speed, not feeling his best. One of his oldest friends is fighting for his life. I don't know what he's doing, as Charles didn't tell me, but I go online to find out more as I tell Lorenzo what's happening.
When we're outside the house I beg him to wait. I shower quicker than I ever have, skipping conditioner to save time. I get dressed and I grab my already packed bag and just some small things around the room, making sure I have my passport and my paddock pass with me before rushing out to the car where Lorenzo is waiting.
I call Pascale in the car on my way over, telling her what's going on, and then I book a last minute plane ticket to Belgium. Lorenzo keeps asking me questions all the way to the airport. Do I have everything? How will I get to the hotel? What if there's a bunch of paparazzi and reporters everywhere? I don't have the answers to everything but I assure him I'll survive.
"Es-tu sûr que tu es d'accord pour gérer ça à nouveau?" Are you sure you're okay with dealing with this again? He then asks.
"Non," I shake my head honestly, "Mais je doute que Charles soit," But I doubt that Charles is either.
It took me four hours from when Lorenzo dropped me off at the airport, until I was dropped off by the taxi at the hotel in Spa, Belgium. I was lucky, considering I didn't have a plane ticket booked before I was in the car on my way to the airport, and there were only a few tickets left on that plane.
I walk into the lobby and I realize I don't know what room Charles is in, or if he's even back from qualifying yet. I saw he got pole position, but I don't know if he's done with media duties and such things. So I stand there for a second, getting my phone out, and I'm just about to call him.
"Céline," Lewis' voice makes me look up at him approaching me, still in his Mercedes shirt, so I guess he just got back to the hotel, I guess Charles has to be back too.
"Hi," I say, "Do you know where Charles is?" I ask.
His face falls and he swallows as he looks down at his feet for a moment. Fucking hell. I know what that means. He clears his throat and then looks up with me, now looking more pained.
"He's with Pierre," He says, "I'm here to take Evie to his room... uh... they just got the call."
"No," I whisper, shaking my head, "No..."
"The crash was too severe, there was no way he would've made it. They called it 'non-survivable trauma' and they just found out, so they're in Pierre's room," Lewis tells me.
My hand goes up to cover my mouth and I feel my eyes tearing up, but I remember why I'm here. He was always strong for me, I'll be strong for him now. So I swallow, I blink away the tears and I nod slowly as Lewis puts a hand on my shoulder, pulling me into a hug, letting a hand run up and down my back as I breathe deeply, trying not to think that someone so bright and happy and kind just left. It makes me feel like it's always the brightest, the happiest. It's always the ones you feel the world needs more of.
But the dark night sky needs more stars, I suppose.
"C..." I hear behind me, "What are you doing here?" Evie says, making it sound almost like it's a bad thing that I'm here. I let go of Lewis and I turned to her, seeing her devastated face.
"Charles called me after the crash, I got here as soon as I could," I explained.
"You shouldn't have to deal with this again," She whispers over my shoulder as she hugs me tightly. I hug her even tighter and we stay like that for a moment, because we know that this is our time to comfort each other, because as soon as we get in there, we both want to be there for them.
We didn't know him like they did. We've met him, gotten to know him a little more and more every time he's around him, and I know we're both thankful for that. But people like him never really leave either. They're never really gone, because you remember them so fondly and you talk about him, knowing there's only positive things to say about him.
She hugs Lewis for a moment as well, and then he leads us to Pierre's room. We thank him and then we knock on the door, waiting for it to open. It's Charles who opens the door and his eyes fall on Evie, who's already taking him into a hug, and then his eyes settle on me and his mouth falls open, even though I told him I was coming. He lets go of Evie who pushes past him into the room to see Pierre, and Charles wraps his arms around me so tightly. He breathes heavily and I can't tell if he's crying, but my hand goes up and down his back, letting my hand gently scratch it.
"Je ne pensais pas que tu viendrais réellement," I didn't think you would actually come, he whispers. I just nod over his shoulder, because I know he didn't think I'd be there, but here I am, because he needs me. "Je vous aime," I love you.
"Je vous aime," I love you, I repeat his words back to him before pulling away so we can move into the room instead of standing in the middle of the hallway.
We bring my suitcase inside and I go to find Pierre sitting on the edge of the bed. Evie is sitting next to him and when I walk in, he looks up. He stands up and he lets me hug him. I hold him a bit longer, feeling the way his body is shaking. He's not crying, but he looks like he wants to fall apart. He was just demoted, it's his first race after the demotion and now he's lost his closest childhood friend — and tomorrow he'll have to get in that car again.
We let them talk if they wanted, we asked careful questions about it and we let them choose what they wanted to do with the evening. They needed to be well enough to get into a car the next day, so all we wanted was for them to keep their strong mentality, which they did, as per usual. It's fascinating seeing their mental strength.
They ended up talking about some memories with him, some of them I even remember vaguely. They would tell us all these stories about Anthoine being both funny and kind when they were growing up, and we listened to all their stories and what they had to say. Charles had his head on my stomach, his legs thrown over Evie, who had her head in Pierre's lap. We were all tangled together and if one of us laughed or made any movement, everyone else was very aware of it too.
"Charles," Pierre said when Charles and I were on our way out the room to go to bed. Charles and I turned around and Pierre got up, "Tu dois gagner demain, tu es en pole, tu peux le faire," You gotta win tomorrow, you're on pole, you can do it, he said as he put two strong hands on Charles' shoulders, and he nodded. "Tu dois gagner pour Anthoine," You have to win for Anthoine.
It's been a long time since I've seen the paddock so quiet. Everyone was grieving the loss of him. People spoke in low voices, they were looking down, they were looking upset. His teammates, everyone he's ever raced with, everyone on a race track — familiar with who Anthoine was or not, they were upset and grieving. Heavy sighs, closing eyes for just a second longer when talking about him, looking down and shaking heads while saying "It's devastating, he had so much potential to become an amazing driver in Formula 1, he was taken too early," all over the place.
You saw drivers walking in with sunglasses, not only to cover their eyes from the sun, but also to cover up the fact that their eyes were red, as if they were ashamed they had been grieving a person they lost.
Charles and Pierre went to prepare for the race while Evie and I took a walk around the paddock. I let her tell me about the whole situation about her family, though she gave me only facts and not much of her feelings around it. I tried to carefully ask her about how she's dealing with it, but she didn't give me much and I don't feel like it's the right time to push her. There's a lot going on for her, for all of us. So I left it alone, hoping she'll come to me if she needs me. I can't imagine what it must feel like trusting someone the way she trusted her friend for so long, and then have them betray you that way.
We find somewhere to sit down where we're not in the way of anyone, because that's the last thing we want to be right now. Lando and his friend Max, who drove with Anthoine and looks to be quite out of it. I know the look of denial on his face and constantly zoning out. Been there done that, but I don't mention it because I don't want anything to be about me or make people think about me when they should be thinking about Anthoine.
Pierre calls me and asks me to come to the Toro Rosso garage so Evie and I walk over there, where Pierre is standing with a shorter woman, her hair is short and brown and she has sunglasses on. There's no doubt that it's Anthoine's mother. Next to her is a taller guy, freakishly like Anthoine, so I simply assume it's his brother.
"Voici la mère et le frère d'Antoine," Here are Antoine's mother and brother, Pierre says and motions at them. I turn to them with my most heartfelt smile and I don't shake their hands but I hug them and let them tell me their names, Nathalie and Victhor, and I notice by the way they squeeze that they're not against it.
"Toutes mes condoléances," All my condolences, I tell them softly and they both nod and try to smile. I then look at Pierre, because when he called me over he sounded like he wanted more than to just introduce me to Anthoine's parents that I've probably met some time without remembering.
"And you remember my girlfriend, Evie," He says, motioning at Evie who's next to me. She also hugs them and gives her condolences. "Je pensais que vous pouviez... les aider avant la minute de silence?" I thought you could... help them before the minute's silence? Pierre says, looking at me.
"Oui bien sûr," Yes of course, I say and we walk out of the garage, because there is no peaceful moment in a garage and I don't think they need the loud noises and the pressure.
There's about an hour before they have to be there in front of everyone. I remember how the whole ceremony they did for Jules was draining. The sun was shining down and you were trying not to fall to the ground and bawl after just losing one of the most important people in your life.
I also felt a bit bad because I didn't want a single thing to be about Jules, but then comes Pierre. Of course it was Pierre. But also, if the mother and brother of Anthoine feels like they want the support from me, then they're getting that support from me.
"Sorry, Pierre isn't very clear," Victhor says, "You are Céline Bianchi, right?"
"Yes, that's me," I nod as we sit down around a table in the shade outside. I make sure they both get glasses of water from one of the servers not far from us.
"I remember, Anthoine was watching on TV and as a mother that's your worst fear..." Nathalie sniffles and Evie gives her a napkin. "You watch this family stand there grieving their loved one... and now here we are," She chuckles before it turns into soft crying with tears escaping under her sunglasses. I realize that I don't really know what to say, but I need to try.
"It takes a lot of time," I start off, not sure exactly where I'm going with it, "to accept that they're gone. I was staring at his helmet, unable to understand that he wouldn't be wearing it anymore."
"I can imagine," Victhor nods, putting an arm around his mother's shoulders, "I held his helmet earlier, it just doesn't feel real."
"Anthoine was such a good guy," Evie chimes in, "So kind, always smiling and joking and all of that. So he's remembered so fondly by everyone."
"People like that never actually die," I say with a light shrug, "we still celebrate my brother's birthday, we still talk about him, we still remember him so fondly that it never feels like he's really gone. When their memory is that good, they're basically immortal."
Nathalie sniffles and puts an arm on my shoulder, rubbing my bare arm a little. Victhor attempts a little smile, but he's struggling on a day like this. I can remember feeling the way they are like it was yesterday and my heart really hurts for them.
They tell me that Anthoine's dad is somewhere else. He's there, but he's sitting by himself somewhere. He was here when it happened, he saw it from the garage and he called his mom and brother, who rushed over here by car. They didn't make it here before he passed and when she tells us, it's hard for both Evie and I to keep it together. She saw her son alive, then she got the call and never got to say goodbye.
I've never felt more thankful about having the chance to say goodbye to Jules. I was with him when he left, I was next to him with my fingers running through his hair. She lost her son and she didn't even get to say goodbye. My chest was aching.
Before the race, the drivers gathered with the Formula 1 and the Formula 2 drivers on the track, where Nathalie and Victhor held his helmet for a minute of silence. Evie and I watched from afar, and we saw how all the drivers had frowns and single tears falling down their faces. It was hard to stop the tears from running down our cheeks as well. Evie and I caught ourselves drying our cheeks more than once before the minute was over.
After the minute, I saw how Charles found Nathalie and they hugged. I walked up to them and she hugged me as well as I let her cry over my shoulder. It's so painful to see it happen to someone else. Charles looks saddened by it, and when Nathalie turns to give Evie a hug as well, Charles pulls me in tightly despite the cameras around us, clicking over and over again. They're the last thing I want to think about when something like this is going on.
"Tu peux le faire," You can do it, I tell Charles as he holds me tightly. "Je serai dans la boîte," I will be in the box.
"Je sais;" I know, he says softly before slowly letting go of me, but pulling me with him with his arm around me as we walk towards the garage. He has his little corner and I stand next to him, leaning against the wall as he changes into his fireproofs and then puts his race suit over his legs and tied at the hips.
I follow him outside and sit on the ground in the shade between two large buses as he starts warming up. He's skipping rope, he plays a little football with Andrea and then he does some reaction exercises. Andrea talks to him, talks him into the right state of mind, and then we go back into the garage. Before he puts his balaklava on, he makes sure no one is watching so that he can give me a quick kiss, then he pulls it over his head, gets his helmet on and gets into the car.
They prepare for the race up until the last second. I put the headphones on and I listen to his radio and look onto the screen in front of me, showing the TV live. His voice when he's on the radio is low and slow. But eventually the lights go out and Charles manages to get a great start.
The race doesn't start well, with Max making contact with Kimi and being sent into the wall at the same corner Anthoine crashed at. People gasped and held their breaths, but Max was quick to signal that he was okay. My heart was beating a little faster and I was even more on edge, knowing that it had actually happened again, and here they are, risking their lives once again when they've just lost another one of the young people who shouldn't go this early. It tenses my body just thinking about it.
Sebastian is behind Charles, with Lewis breathing behind him. They're fighting, but Sebastian seems to keep him off despite having a lockup after the safety car. I was holding my breath once again when Charles had a lockup during lap nine, and ran through the corner. I wanted to curse when I saw that the stewards noted it. If he gets a penalty...
The noise in the garage gets louder as Sebastian comes into the pit, being the first one of the people in front to pit. When he's gone, we can all hear loud clapping. It's louder than I've ever heard it. I try to look outside but I can only see on the screen how everyone's standing up and clapping as they start lap 19 — Anthoine's number.
Charles pits in lap 21, but he rejoins in fourth, behind Sebastian. Not long after that, Lewis pits. Charles doesn't seem happy being behind Sebastian, but there's something going on in my chest and stomach when they inform him that Sebastian is going to let Charles through, which he does at the start of lap 27, making Charles retake the lead. The next few laps, Sebastian defends against Lewis while complaining about his tyres.
Lewis eventually manages to overtake him, going to chase after Charles. During this time, I forget I need to breathe. Lewis is putting in quicker laps and the gap is getting smaller and smaller, while I breathe less and less. When there's only two laps left, the gap is just under two seconds.
Just like that, Giovinazzi is in the wall, there's a yellow flag, and Charles is the first to pass the finish line. Everything in my body relaxes and I let out a big, heavy sigh as I cover my face with my hands as my elbows hold me up on the edge of the box. Someone grabs me and pulls me into a hug, it's Andrea who rubs my arms excitedly as he smiles widely.
Charles finally got his maiden victory. He got it for Anthoine.
Andrea pulls me with him out of the garage as Charles comes in. He gets up on the car and he points to the sky, he shows the camera the sticker on his car saying 'Racing for Anthoine' and then he goes to celebrate lightly with his team, not doing too much considering the circumstances. But at least he got to win for his friend. Finally, he comes over to us. I smile widely as I listen to the crowd cheering for him, and I see his smile growing by the way his eyes crinkle and he hugs me tightly, tightly, tightly, before letting me go to walk into the cool off room.
Evie runs up to me as we're walking towards the podium. She hugs me, because Charles isn't around, and she's smiling widely as she's jumping around excited. I should probably be on her level of excitement, but my legs are failing and I'm still struggling to believe that he won. I'm still calming down from how tense I was, and I also know he won't celebrate his first win. He won't want to celebrate it because Anthoine's gone, and he won for him, not anything else.
As expected, Charles went to the top step of the podium, he got his trophy, pointed up at the sky and he walked off with the bottle in his hand, not even bothering to open it.
Not a single drop of champagne passed his lips, as he was there to honor another hero, another one he's lost.
//
I wrote this a few weeks ago and I'm not gonna lie... it hurt