Max
"What a fucking motherfucker!" I shout into the radio as Leclerc pulls in my way, causing me to lose time on the measuring lap.
"We'll report it, Max." I hear a calm voice.
"But seriously, fuck! Is this a fucking playground! He drives here for so many years and can't look in the mirrors! Let them remove him from here!" I yell, hoping not to end in Q2 by this idiot.
Three days have passed since our conversation. One devoted to meeting the media, another to training and today to qualifying. Is it good between us? Well I don't know, it's neither bad nor good. We don't get in each other's way, but I can't help but comment on his driving, because today he drives like he's drunk. I'm sick of this Ferrari.
"P9, we're in Q3." I sigh with relief, hearing my engineer's voice.
"Because of that red shit, we barely made it." I mumble to him, hoping he'll finally back me up about not liking this team.
"Focus on driving. Both of you focus."
"Both of you? Is this fucking retard saying something on me? On me! When he's the one who blocked the road me seven times! SEVEN! Not once, not twice! Fucker! Holy shit, how dare he!" I'm already talking to myself, because the engineer is completely not listening to me, although I'm still talking into the radio. I go down to the box, shaking my head in disbelief.
"I'll take a leave of absence." he says seriously, sounding tired of my talking.
Great.
In the end, qualifying goes well. I take pole position for tomorrow's race and no Leclerc prevented me from doing anything. He took a measly P8 through penalties caused by today's driving. Do I feel sorry for him? Not a bit. I share the front row with my teammate, so everything is perfect. After photos, interviews and other crap, I say goodbye to the team, thanking them for today, and head toward the parking lot to go to the hotel. I need to get some sleep.
Suddenly I hear a quiet cry. At first I ignore it, because it's probably some small child who wasn't allowed to get into the car. But as I get closer to the sound, I recognize that it's not a baby crying at all. I furrow my eyebrows, looking toward the Ferrari garages from where the sobbing is coming from.
"Fuck me." I say under my breath, looking around to see if anyone can see me, and when I don't notice any people, I quickly walk toward the sound.
I pass employees who, although they don't say anything, look in my direction with a strange look on their faces, and I'm not surprised at all. They probably think I'm as a spy or I'm lost. God, what am I doing.
I walk through the strange corridors, feeling that I won't go back down that road again, because I don't remember it. Suddenly I notice Leclerc sitting against the wall. He has his knees squatted against his chest. He rests his hands against his knees and his head is lowered down, every now and then fighting an incoming sob. He angrily wipes away his tears, and next to him lies a broken phone with some messages and a photo on the screen. I grunt, and he quickly raises his head to look at me. He wrinkles his eyebrows, blinking a few times to make sure it's definitely me.
"What are you doing here? It's not Red Bull." he says quietly.
"Well... I managed to notice, too red here." I agree with him. I tentatively approach him and sit down opposite him, leaning against the wall with the difference that I keep my legs stretched out and my shoe touching his. "You're crying again." I add.
"And you since when do you care?" he tries to sound threatening so that I start arguing with him and forget about his condition. This time it doesn't work out for him.
"I promised to help you, and I keep my promises." I shrug my shoulders.
"The promise was to find whoever is spreading rumors."
"The promise was all about you, Charles." I roll my eyes. Once again, his name my lips pronounce for me. I didn't mean it, and when I realize what I've done, I can't show that I'm surprised by it either, because he catches it, looking at me closely.
"Since when do you talk to me like that?" cross your arms over your chest.
"Isn't that your name?"
"Stop it, you idiot. And as for the promise... And all this. I'm sorry about today, it's not my day. I really didn't mean for it to come out like this." he explains, and I'm starting to feel silly for saying so many bad things about him for so long, yet I can't apologize to him. I don't know how to apologize. My father said it's weakness, and I'm not weak.
"Then why are you crying?" I change the subject, which fortunately doesn't seem strange.
Leclerc hands me the phone, on which there is a conversation with Lewis. I roll my eyes, jumping with my eyes from the display to the Ferrari driver's face, who blushing with each passing second. Okay, rumors. Interesting rumors. I like it.
"Lewis?" I ask in a stupor.
"Read, don't judge." he mumbles embarrassed. I nod, reading the contents.
From: Lewis
Charles, what the fuck is this?
*sent photo*.
Are you completely fucked up?
Why were you taking pictures of us?
The photo is a screenshot of Hamilton's conversation with some unknown number who sent him a photo of the drivers kissing each other in a hotel room, which Leclerc took. Nothing else. Zero known threats, blackmail. It's just that this person is playing with them, and I can almost cut my hand off that it's the same type who spread the rumors all over again, stirring me into this shit.
"What did you see in him? World titles?" I raise my eyebrows in surprise.
"Stop it, that was a long time ago." He hides his face in his hands.
"Hey, who's a better kisser?" I fire out suddenly, and the boy tenses his muscles, raising a puzzled look at me. "Well what? I want to know." I shrug my shoulders, smiling innocently.
"No..."
"You reciprocated that kiss?" I interrupt him, more stating than asking. "Oh God, you actually reciprocated that kiss a few days ago!" I smile mischievously, seeing his horrified face.
"What? No!" he shouts almost immediately.
"You liked it."
"No, Max. Didn't like it." he says seriously, avoiding eye contact. I look at him carefully, knowing he's lying. That is, I am better. Let Hamilton hide in the burrow.
"We'll have to do it again, because I don't remember anything, and I'd like to determine if I enjoyed it." I add, wanting to embarrass him out even more, which works perfectly. He rolls his eyes, picking himself up off the floor. "I'm kidding, stiff." I roll my eyes.
"You're an idiot, idiot." he parries amused, sighing in relief. I hand him the phone, also standing up. "How did you get in here?" he asks as we walk out the back exit to the parking lot.
"Like to myself. I'm not fucking dancing."
"Well retard..." he says to himself.
I walk beside him, looking at him for too long than I should. I notice more details up close. Even ones I haven't seen in the dozen years of knowing him. He has full lips, several days of stubble, hair scattered in every direction, a few freckles and beautiful green eyes, which I've never looked closely at, and I already know it was a good decision. They are mesmerizing, reminiscent of meadows that are associated with peace, freedom and happiness. Running in the summer barefoot on the grass, the sun already setting over the horizon and the wind.
"Would you like an ice cream?" I burn out suddenly. "To improve the mood. I hear it works." I wink at him as I see him start to blush.
"Stop a little. First you kiss me, then..." he interrupts amused, seeing my offended face. "Yes, I want to go." he replies with a smile. I nod and point to my car. "Can we use mine?" he asks uncertainly.
At first I immediately want to say no, but seeing his puppy eyes, I roll my eyes and nod. I have to give the keys to Christian to take them to the hotel parking lot. I turn behind me, taking the keys out of my pocket. In the distance I spot Horner walking towards us. He looks angry. No, what am I saying. He's pissed. He stops in front of us, measuring Leclerc with his eyes. The boy takes a step back, looking uncomprehendingly once at me and once at Christian.
"Listen to me. We have respect for you, we never say bad things to Max about you and Ferrari, and you decided to spread some rumors about Red Bull and Max? What is this for? To destroy us and win a championship that will be misrepresented?" he says angrily, looking only at Leclerc.
I also glance at him and see that he doesn't know what's going on. I don't know why, but I believe him. I don't know if it's the right decision or not, but I'd like to think it is. I grunts, getting their attention.
"How do you know it's him?" I cross my arms over my chest.
"And who else? Come to think of it Max, he's the only person who wants to destroy you."
I know he's telling the truth, I know I shouldn't care, but something stings in my heart when I hear those words.
"I'll report it, I'll report you to..."
"It's not Charles." I say firmly, interrupting him.
Christian and Leclerc look at me in shock. Yes, I'm surprised I told them that, too. I could have kept it in my head, because I will feel like a retard when it turns out to be him.
"Don't bullshit me, Max. It's him, and you take my side, because I'm fighting for you and Red Bull so that nothing can tarnish our reputation."
"If you don't believe him, believe me. He didn't do anything, so if you want to blame someone then look for the one who is actually trying to spoil everything." I hand him the car keys. "And I don't give a shit about that reputation. I'd rather spend time with a person who hasn't done anything than with a person who blames everyone around him, because the truth is, it's not about me, it's about not getting you fired." I turn my back on a shocked Horner, walking to Leclerc's car. "Come on, Charles." I say loudly, being almost next to the car.
After a few seconds I hear quick footsteps behind me, and after a while the boy catches up with me. He doesn't say anything, but I can see him smiling under his breath, because I have just exposed myself to being thrown out of the formula to defend him. Fuck, I've lost my mind. I definitely hit my head, or that kiss I don't even remember messed something up. Maybe I messed up? Let's hope not...
"So for ice cream?" he asks happily as we get into the car. He's in a much better mood than he was a moment ago, so all doubts about whether it was worth the risk disappear. Why? I don't know. I'm scared because I no longer feel the same hostility towards him that I did a dozen days ago. What scares me is the fact that I decided to help him, and the fact that we are spending more and more time together every day without being forced by FiA.
"For ice cream." I agree, pulling my gaze away from his face so as not to be suspicious.