Charles
"They forbade you to wear a Ferrari jersey, so you painted your face?" Verstappen mocks my nervousness, still calmly leaning against the wall. I was so wrong about him!
"You fucking motherfucker, how the fuck could I have been so stupid and thanked you yesterday!" I shout, barely in control of myself. In a second I'll do something I'll deeply regret, and I'll probably derail my whole life with it, because I'll get kicked out of Formula, but he deserves to be taught a lesson.
"What the fuck are you talking about, Leclerc? Did you hit your head?" he parries, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Don't fuck with me more. Why are you talking about these rumors! Fuck, what good does it do you! Someone made it up so long ago, and you're running around happy, poisoning my life by telling these lies!" I yell, not paying attention to the fact that everyone can probably hear us despite the loud music.
He is a good actor. He wrinkles his eyebrows, pretending that he has no idea about anything. Just as he is about to say something, out of the corner of my eye I notice Norris enter the room with a cake. There are no candles on it yet, and everyone stands in a circle, starting to sing a hundred years for the birthday boy. Ricciardo is holding the candles he wants to put in the sugar mixture, but at the same moment I act without thinking about the consequences. I just instantly find myself next to Lando and take the cake, hitting Verstappen with it.
Suddenly the chanting stops and the room falls silent. I watch with satisfaction as the Red Bull driver stands all covered in cake, masa and whipped cream. He has all his hair and face in whipped cream, and there are pieces of sponge cake and strawberry filling attached to his clothes.
"Fuck off." I hiss quietly so that only he can hear it and turn the other way pretending to be surprised. "Oh my, sorry! I tripped!" I say concerned, and everyone sighs in relief.
"Nothing happened, I was afraid Max had done something again." Daniel assures me, putting his hand on my shoulder. "Besides, to your face in cake." He adds to his friend, who loudly takes air into his lungs, and after a moment lets it out.
The silence is broken by music. Everyone suddenly forgets about the cake and moves to the dance floor. I all I need is alcohol.
"Shall we go drinking?" I glance at Pierre, who has suddenly appeared next to me, as if reading my mind. I nod eagerly. A smiling Lando appears on my other side, laughing quietly under his breath at something.
"What?" I ask, taking a seat at the bar.
"Nothing, I just continue to be amused by Max's appearance. Now he's standing in the bathroom trying to wash that cake, and Daniel, already completely drunk, is still annoying him." He starts laughing out loud, saying these words. I myself lift the corners of my mouth up, listening to this.
I don't know how much we sit like this, but I forget about the situation with my enemy. I laugh at Lando's jokes, drinking a non-alcoholic shot every now and then. I'm doing the driving for a friend today, which I don't like at all. Lando avoids the lines, not wanting to get drunk. Pierre has a different opinion, as he drinks a glass one after another. He's got a strong head, so I'm not worried that he's about to pass on the table and won't get up, or at least I hope so, because the last thing I want is to babysit a drunk friend.
"Guys, and remember how I once drove into a wall!" shouts Lando, laughing before finishing his sentence.
They put me in a much better mood. I was already about to leave the party, after the cake incident, but I'm glad I decided to stay. It's fun. I love parties with them, especially when there aren't so many people. Because even though they hold back in front of others, if there were a bunch of people we trusted here, I would probably cry from laughter if they started dancing.
"Charles." I hear a concerned voice behind me. Immediately the three of us turn behind us, encountering with our eyes the birthday boy, who looks as if someone has died.
"Yes?" I ask with a smile.
"Max is terribly drunk, you could..."
"Ask Daniel." I roll my eyes, turning toward the bar again.
"Daniel is sleeping in my room in a slightly better state, but still, he won't help me." I sigh resignedly, hearing his words.
"Okay, that's fine. Where is he?" I ask reluctantly, getting up from the chair. "Have fun." I add. "Pierre..."
"I'll be back with Lando." He interrupts me before I can finish.
"Great." I mumble. Normally I would tell Verstappen to go home on his knees for what he did, but I feel guilty for spoiling the birthday boy's cake. I don't want this idiot to ruin the party by vomiting in the middle of the dance floor or something.
"He's in the bathroom, I..."
"Go, have fun. It's your party, once again, happy birthday." I smile.
The boy reciprocates the gesture and moves toward the dance floor, shouting something to his colleagues. Reluctantly, I walk toward the bathroom. I try not to show anger, because I don't know how it will be. I've never been around a Verstappen who was stood up, let alone completely drunk. I don't know how he'll behave and I'm fed up at the thought of having to drive him home. For pity's sake... What was my fault?
I enter the room and the first thing I notice is an open single cubicle, where Verstappen is sitting on the floor. He's propping himself up against the wall with one hand to keep from falling, and with the other on the shell, leaning over it. I hold my breath, looking at the boy. He looks like a small, innocent child. His skin is pale and his eyes are closed. Probably he has already thrown away everything he has drunk and eaten, because he looks tired of the situation. I sigh loudly, moving toward him. Suddenly all the resentment and anger is gone. I can't shout or be angry when I see him like this. I don't know, maybe my heart is too soft, but I can't say an angry text. Suddenly he realizes that someone besides him is in the room and lifts his head to look at me.
"Charles?" I stop, hearing his quiet voice.
Charles. Not Leclerc, not an idiot, not an enemy, not a Ferrari driver. Just Charles. I ignore the strange feeling in my stomach, nodding.
"Come, I'll take you home." I say calmly, walking up to him. He immediately denies it with a nod. Yes, it's definitely going to be a long night... "You can't stay here, Ver..." I stammer, thinking whether I should address him by name in this case. I definitely do, maybe that will help me convince him to do something. "Max." I utter with difficulty. His name hurts my throat and lips when I say it, but I ignore it.
I grab his arm and help him stand up. He does so reluctantly, but tries his best to prevent me from having to carry him. I flush the water and we both leave the cabin.
"I need to brush my teeth." he says right next to my ear, and a shiver runs through my spine as his breath wraps around my neck. I stop, looking at him like he's an idiot.
"Max, let's go home." I say firmly, to which he nods negatively, stepping back. "You don't have a toothbrush or toothpaste here. I promise you'll brush your teeth at home, and if you can't I'll fucking polish them for you." I hold him tightly with one hand by his wrist to keep him from taking his hand from my shoulders, and with the other at his waist to keep him from moving away from me, as he will probably smash his head, falling on the tiles.
"Do you promise?" he asks uncertainly.
"Yes, Max, I promise. Let's go." He won't remember anything anyway, so it's a worthless promise.
He reluctantly agrees with me and we move toward the exit. I pray in my head that he doesn't start remembering some to-do again, because he'll fuck me up and I'll leave him here, coming back alone.
"Charles..."
"No." I reply firmly, interrupting him before he starts anything.
"Okay..." he says sadly. I count to ten in my mind, leading him out of the building where my car is parked.
"I'm listening, Max. What did you want to tell me?" I ask calmly, opening the passenger side door. It's not too bad, because although the boy is drunk, through vomiting he has improved enough not to lie on top of me, and tries to stand by himself without leaning on me.
"Because I don't know where my room keys are." he mumbles under his breath.
"Holy fuck..." I sigh loudly, opening the passenger side door.
"Who?" he asks curiously.
"Keep quiet. Sit here, I'll go get them." I help him get into the car and run inside. My first target is Norris, and if not him, then Daniel, and if not... Then I'll kill myself.
I walk up to the bar, where, besides Lando and Pierre, sit half the drivers and other people I don't know. I put my hand on the lack of a boy, who flinches and glances in my direction.
"You quickly sat him down." he laughs.
"Where are the keys to his room?" I ignore his drunken jokes.
"Oh... About that... So... Well... Daniel lost them somewhere. Sorry." the boy scratches the back of his neck, looking at me apologetically.
"I'll fucking leave him in the hallway." I strain through clenched teeth.
"You know, Charles... You have a big bed, so..." begins Pierre, but I don't let him finish, walking toward the exit door. I hate parties when I decide not to drink. Next time I'll get so drunk that I'll give a shit about everything and everyone!
"Let me know how your night went!" shouts Norris, to which I stick out my middle finger in their direction.
I've had enough...
I walk out of the building and sigh in relief when the loud music much quieter after closing the front door. I walk toward the car, and when I want to get in, I notice that Verstappen is not in the car. I curse under my breath, looking around. Why does this have to happen to me! Why after what he did to me do I care about him! Fucking Verstappen! Fucking Red Bull!
"Shit... Max?!" I shout, walking away from the cars. I notice the Red Bull driver leaning over the bushes. I wince, crossing my arms over my chest. "Poor plants..." I say to myself, taking tissues out of my pocket. I walk up to the boy, handing him one, which he immediately takes, wiping his mouth with it. "Should I go get a bag? I don't want you to vomit in my car." I like the idea of transporting him in my poor car less and less.
"No, it's okay." he mumbles, tossing the handkerchief in front of him. Normally I would go pick it up or have him do it, but when I see how much trash is around, I give up on the idea. Someone has to clean it up in the morning anyway.
I help him into the car again and finally get in as well, starting the engine. I'm not happy about it yet, though, because it's a start. I still have to drive him home, and instead of getting better, the alcohol is starting to affect him more and more, as he didn't stumble before, and now he almost fell on the car. I don't even want to think about how we will climb the stairs to the third floor, because the elevator at my hotel broke down....