Trigger warning: mentions of self harm and depression
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♬ ❝ How could you blame me? Growing up is chaotic ❞ ♬
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64 days until summer break
Sunday - Nice, France
It was almost midnight and the airport was nearly empty. Max's idea was go as late as possible to the airport, because it would be less crowded.
He had given me direct instructions on how to get to his private plane, and while occasionally watching the faces around me, I kept looking at my screen to follow his steps.
I felt my heart in my throat and just hoped that Max's plane was nearby now.
"Hey beautiful," I was startled by his voice, but seeing him made me instantly relax.
"Thank God," I whispered as I let Max embrace me in a hug. "I was getting panicked already."
Max chuckled, probably thinking I was joking, "I am glad I went to search for you then."
I felt the heat rising in my cheeks, and I could only imagine the blushing color they carried now. He looked good today, even for such a late-night flight. He noticed me looking at him and winked while grabbing my hand.
"Come on, the plane is over there."
His hand in mine felt nice. It didn't make me uncomfortable like it did with my ex-boyfriends. It didn't feel contradicting.
I just wasn't sure yet if it scared me or not.
"Are you okay?" I felt a light squeeze in my hand and I turned my head to look at Max, he had his eyebrows furrowed in a worried look.
I nodded giving him a smile, "Yes, I am."
I recognized his plane from when I looked through his Instagram page last night, his pilot stood next to the little stairs at the entrance of the plane.
"Let me talk to the pilot really quickly, you can settle yourself already," Max said and gently let to go my hand.
"Okay," I climbed up the stairs and sat down on one of the chairs. It looked very luxurious, but I knew what to expect after my little investigation.
Sleep was growing heavy on my eyes and I yawned. The flight would only take an hour and a half, I could stay awake for that. But when Max finally entered the plane, he found me in a peaceful slumber.
He retrieved a cozy blanket from one of the compartments, carefully unfolded it and draped it over me. I stirred slightly and opened my eyes just enough to catch a glimpse of Max's caring expression.
He noticed my stirring and whispered, "You looked cold; though you might want this."
I mumbled a contented sigh, thanking him for the comfort. As I drifted in and out of sleep, I sensed Max occasionally checking on me.
In one of those half-awake moments, I felt a gentle hand brushing a strand of hair from my face. My eyelids fluttered open and I noticed suddenly that my head was resting on his shoulder.
I yawned and straightened myself, "Sorry," I mumbled and tried to rub the sleep from my eyes.
"It's no problem," He said softly. "We are landing in ten minutes."
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Max had booked two separate rooms in a different hotel than his team will be staying at later this week.
"I thought you would be more comfortable having your own room," He said as he gave me my key. "We can still stay in the same room if that's what you want."
"I appreciate it, Max," I smiled. "For now, I will take my own room and we will see about tomorrow and Tuesday."
"That's fine," He stopped at his door, mine was right next to his. "Can I... Can I kiss you good night?"
"Sure," I walked over to him and cupped his cheek before gently pressing my lips on his. "Good night."
I smiled and took a few steps back until I was at the front of my door again. Our eyes locked one more time before I opened the door and disappeared inside my room.
»»———— ★ ————««
63 days until summer break
Monday - Monza, Italy
I was already freshly showered when Max knocked on my door.
"Ready for breakfast?" He asked and reached out his hand.
"Yes, let me grab the key card," I snatched it from the little table next to the door and accepted Max's hand. Our fingers intertwined slowly, as if we both didn't want to rush the physical contact.
Breakfast was very varied. From different kinds of bread and pastries to oatmeal and porridge. And then authentic Italian coffee or fresh juices.
Max picked the right hotel.
We put different things on our plates and picked out a table in a corner further away from the buffet.
"What did you have in mind for today?" Max asked curiously.
I should've thought about it, since it was my idea to leave early. But I had not, so I chuckled nervously,
"I have no idea. I didn't think this plan through."
Max knitted his eyebrows together, a small smile on his lips, "What made you ask me to go earlier with you?"
I felt the heat rising in my cheeks, "Uhm... It seemed like a good idea to just get away and not be interrupted by anyone."
"Then maybe, we should just stay in today," He prompted. "Watch a movie, order room service. You know... not get interrupted."
I smiled and nodded, "Sounds like a plan."
We ate our breakfast while talking about my next art project which, per the kind request of my youngest brother, was going to be a portrait of Arthur.
He gently grabbed my hand as we walked back to our rooms. I stole a few glances at him as we waited for the elevator and by the smirk that slowly grew on his lips, he noticed them too.
"Your room or mine?"
"Either one is fine," I responded. "Is yours more luxurious than mine?"
"Oh, so much more," Max joked and squeezed slightly in my hand. "I will show you."
He opened his door to show me a room that was the exact same as mine, I turned around and playfully raised an eyebrow.
"So, what's the difference between them?"
"The company," He said smoothly. "This room becomes so much more luxurious with you in it."
"Flattery will get you nowhere, Max," I rolled my eyes playfully.
"I beg to differ," Max walked past me, his hand running over the small of my back making me follow his movement. "And we can start with checking if my bed is more comfortable than yours."
He let himself fall onto the bed, his eyes never leaving mine, I rolled my eyes again and with a smirk sat down on the bed.
"Come here," Max pulled me gently against him on the bed. My back was against his chest and I tilted my head to look at him.
He smiled before he leaned in, capturing my lips in a slow kiss. It was a short, sweet kiss, Max's hand cupped my cheek before he pulled away.
His finger traced my jawline, down my neck and over my shoulder along my forearm, where the fabric of my long sleeves met my skin. "You're always wearing long sleeves," he remarked, his tone curious.
My heart skipped a beat, and I knew this moment would eventually come, I had just hoped it would be a bit later. The familiar discomfort settled in. This is were it normally died with my previous relationships.
"It's just a preference," I replied, trying to keep my tone light. Maybe it was finally time to speak up, maybe it would help me feel more comfortable if I just tell him.
Max's eyes searched mine, "Is there a reason, though?" he asked gently. "If you want to talk about it."
I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, "I do... I do want to tell you."
It just hasn't been easy.
"What happened?"
I licked my lips, and felt my heart racing against my chest. I have never openly admitted it to anyone else but my own family.
"I have scars," I said softly and avoided his gaze. "Scars I still need to learn to accept."
"Scars?" Max repeated softly and I nodded.
"To make it poetic... I did not always paint with paint brushes on a canvas."
Max let the information sink in and I looked up at him, his eyes focused on the bed. I shouldn't have told him.
"You did it to yourself?"
I didn't hear judgment in his voice, it was some sort of concern, and I nodded again. What was the right response to give to someone like me?
"I'm sorry to hear that," he says softly. "No one should have to think that harming themselves is a way to cope, and I am sorry that something happened to you that made you think that."
I nodded again and then looked up at him again only to see his gaze fixated on me.
"We don't have to talk about it," He said, cupping my cheek and wiping away a lost tear.
I closed my eyes and envisioned I was alone, maybe it was easier that way, "Growing up after Charles and Arthur got more publicity due to their racing was not easy. Paparazzi was everywhere... And I was the only female Leclerc, next to my mom, to just 'carry' the name."
"The media said I needed to be supportive of my brothers, and in the beginning, they painted me as the sweet sister wearing Ferrari merchandise. But as soon as I didn't show up, it was a headline too, because God forbid I was doing something that would take their shine away. And when Arthur momentarily stopped with karting, the media speculated it was due to money problems and that too was my fault because why didn't I just start working to help out with the finances?"
"My parents tried to shut up the media, even filed for trespassing and defamation... but somehow, the damage was already done. I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life. Every career felt like the wrong one, since it wasn't racing or related to motorsports. I was expected to fit a mold that didn't leave room for my dreams or desires. I was constantly thinking I had to live up to this Leclerc name. The expectations were suffocating and the media did not hesitate to turn struggles into headlines. I was a scapegoat for their sensational narratives."
"It became a form of relief?" Max asked carefully, I felt how his arms embraced me, and I nodded.
"People said I was riding on my brothers' success. It's hard to find your place when you're constantly in their shadows, when people don't believe the talent I carried. And when I couldn't handle it, it became a way to cope, a way to regain control over something in my life. After Dad passed away, everything became even more challenging. His death left a void, and I felt lost without him... he was like my best friend."
Max knew what my father's death cost Charles, so I knew he would understand this one.
"I wanted to be more than just 'Charles and Arthur's sister.' I wanted my own identity, my own dreams. But it felt like the world only saw me through their success, not as Jasmine Leclerc. And I know what I did was wrong, it only brought more self-doubt, more anxiety and distance between whoever laid eyes on me... I've had an ex how used me... not sexually but..."
I swallowed, "Guys tend to use me. Either for my brothers or just to say they dated me," I bit the inside of my cheek to try and keep the tears from rolling. I looked up at Max and something in his demeanour had changed.
He looked more... vulnerable.
I chuckled nervously, something I used to do a lot whenever I get nervous, uncomfortable or have to talk about myself.
"Depression is a bitch," Max's hold on me tightened and I sighed as another chuckle escaped my lips.
"It is a bitch."
"And Charles? Is he so protective because of this?"
"That's a different story."
But somehow it is not.
"So you want to tell me?" His voice is soft. "You don't have to if you don't want to, you already told me a lot and I don't want you to feel pressured in telling me more than you're comfortable with."
"You've been nothing but kind, Max," I said. "Charles is... Charles is Charles. He is sweet and funny, he is caring and protective. Absolutely the best brother you can ever imagine."
"But he is also the only one who saw me struggle, who saw me struggling and... getting home drunk when it was just a weekday, he saw the little blades I tried to hide and he begged me to please stop. I wasn't suicidal, I never wanted to die but Charles believed otherwise. And one day, I drank so much that I just passed out in my bedroom before I could make it to my bed. I knocked over my pills for my anxiety and for my sleep routine, and Charles thought I took an overdose."
I traumatised him.
"This was after our Dad died," I added to it. "Which made it extra painful for him... I sometimes still have nightmares of Charles screaming at me not to leave him while the tears are running over his cheeks."
I traumatised my brother, and he still loved me.
"He became even more protective after that night and even though I tried to tell it was not an attempt, he thinks I tried to."
The tears felt hot on my cheek and I didn't dear to look at Max. Who finally knew why Charles didn't show up for the Spanish Grand Prix in 2020, and why he was so disoriented after.
"If it means anything," Max whispered. "You are worth it to live through all that and still manage to be strong."
I smiled and Max wiped away the tears, "It explains a lot about you and about why you hide away."
"Is that so?" I asked curiously.
"Yes. Negative experience with the press, social anxiety and not knowing when it was alright what you were doing."
I heavy, tired sigh escaped me and Max tightened his embrace around me. The tears had stopped flowing. I actually couldn't believe I just had told Max about the darkest period of my life.
"And how are you now?" He asked, his voice is barely above a whisper.
"Better. I have been in therapy, started university into a direction that I love, and I know how to cope with everything better than before."
The silence that followed was comfortable, I leaned into Max's embrace. For the longest time I didn't want to have physical contact with someone else, I didn't want to undress myself, my scars were the most intimate part of myself besides the obvious.
And next to my scars, my anxiety used to make me doubt a lot. It made me doubt if someone was with me for me or any other reason.
I had those doubts with Max too the night in the club, when he flirted with me and asked me on our first date.
"I can use some fresh air," I said and slowly pulled away from Max's embrace. "Maybe we can take a short hike somewhere? If there is a less crowded place."
"I don't think there are many," Max mentioned. "But I know there's a little forest-like park nearby, if that works for you."
I nodded, "Yes. Let me just freshen myself, because I probably look like shit after this cry session."
Max leaned back, his eyes scanning my face, "You look beautiful."
"Oh, shut up," I nudged him playfully. "But thank you."
We got up from the bed and I already saw the mascara streaks on my cheek, "Gosh, I look awful. I will go to my room to freshen up and brush my teeth."
"Okay, I will freshen up too. Leave the door ajar so you can enter easily again."
I agreed and walked to my room. I removed the make-up stains, reapplied some and then quickly brushed my teeth. I looked at myself and the long sleeves of the blouse I was wearing in the mirror in the bathroom. And it didn't feel as heavy as it did this morning.
The talking really helped.
Within a few minutes I made my way back to Max's room and closed the door.
"Jasmine? Is that you?" He asked from the bathroom, followed by a few curse words in Dutch. "Jas? If it is you, could you bring me another shirt? It is in my suitcase."
I looked around and saw his suitcase half open in a corner of the room, quickly I grabbed a white shirt and walked to the bathroom.
As I entered the bathroom, my eyes immediately fell on Max, who was facing away from me, shirtless. His silhouette revealed a toned physique that was not overly muscular but still fit. The soft light in the room accentuated the contours of his body.
And all I could do was stare.