Max
It's been a long time since our unmemorable party. Since then, Charles still doesn't know which blonde he spent the evening with, but that doesn't matter much. As for me, my life is still the same. I'm still quarreling with everyone. Even with my father. Besides Daniel, Lando, Carlos, Charles and even Pierre, I have no one, and I don't want to burden them with my problems, so I've been pretending for several months that everything is ok. My contact with the Ferrari driver has improved, and my trust in him has returned over time, although I haven't told him about it, because I'm afraid that by informing him about it, everything will break down again between us.
Charles took off his bandages a few weeks ago and returned to Formula. At first it was hard for him, but with every next race you can see improvement. In addition, I see how hard he trains to get back into shape, and every time I hear negative comments in his direction, I feel like killing those people. The case in court also went well, and in addition to the money the boy is supposed to get, the man was locked up for other scams.
"Whom my eyes see! Is that the famous Max Verstappen?" I hear behind me.
I turn toward my friend, smiling uncontrollably. Charles looks happier than ever, and it's all the fault of his reconciliation with Hamilton. They were at dinner last night to explain everything and apparently it went well. I try to enjoy his happiness, but I feel strange about it.I don't know how to explain it, but I'm definitely not happy that they can get back together.
"And how was it?" I ask, pretending to be interested.
"Good! Lewis apologized to me, we explained everything and I think it's better than I thought it would be." He says contentedly, sitting down on the seat in my driver's room. I'm just getting ready for the race. Leclerc has long since done so, so he decided to drop in on me.
"That's good, I think. And what do you do after the race?"
It has become our tradition to spend time together after races. Mostly the two of us or with our friends. I've started to feel comfortable with Charles, which scared me at first, but now I know it's a good thing.
"Oh, I'm sorry Max, but I completely forgot that we always spend time together and I agreed to Lewis' suggestion that I go to the party with him. I'm so sorry, Max!" he says suddenly concerned, looking at me scared. I know he cares about me and doesn't want me to be angry with him, so I put my pride in my pocket and nod.
"It's nothing, Charles. Have fun." I smile, although inside I feel like crap. He left me for Hamilton. He is delighted to meet him, great.
"Thank you, you're the best." He gives me a quick hug and leaves my room as the race is already approaching.
I sigh loudly, fixing my hair before also leaving the garage. It's not going to be a good day. Maybe winning will at least make me feel better....
I exchange a few more words with my mechanics and get into the car. I try to make the best use of the formation lap, and when the lights go out, I easily move from P2 to P1, having a better start than Charles. For the next half of the race I drive first, not worrying about anything. I know that Lewis is currently behind me, followed by Carlos, because Leclerc is changing tires.
I don't have much of an advantage over the Mercedes driver due to the fact that I've also recently been to change tires. I glance in the mirror, seeing a man right behind me. I try not to worry about it. All I have to do is not make any mistakes, and I will hold on to my position. I ignore the voice on the radio, not listening to what it has to say to me. I focus on making sure the pillion Mercedes doesn't overtake me. Suddenly, as I enter the corner, I hear a very angry announcement.
"Max, Lewis' brakes have stopped working." I hear panic in his voice.
I don't even have time to process it in my head, because the speeding car drives into mine. Everything happens terribly fast. I hear the screams of fans, a crash and a hard jerk. I draw my hands to my chest and close my eyes. Due to the fact that I was sideways, my car, under the heavy impact, lifted up and rolled several times until it finally hit something and stopped sideways. I breathe loudly, opening my eyes again. I can feel my whole body hurting, but it's nothing the doctor needs to see. This is only the fault of the jerk on impact.
"Max? Are you okay?" at first I don't answer. I'm in too much shock to think I should respond. All I hear is silence, as everyone concerned is probably looking at our accident. "'Max, are you all right?"
"Yes," I reply.
I look around, noticing Lewis' car in the distance. There's a red flag, as his car stands in the middle of the track. It looks bad, and I might be tempted to say that my car rolled over his.
"Fuck! Fucking Hamilton!" I shout into the radio, continuing to sit in the car. I'm angry, even though it's not entirely his fault. But he could have done a lot to avoid this accident, and yet he decided to drive into me and take away my winnings.
I unbuckle my seatbelt and get out of the car. I take off my helmet, walking towards the car that is supposed to take me to the garage. To all the questions I'm asked by people around me, I answer that I'm fine and nervously get into the back seat. After a while, Hamilton joins me and I see that he is going to say something, but seeing my face, he gives up. And well. I don't want to talk to him. I hope Charles will change his mind after this and decide to comfort me instead of spending time with him.
I spend the whole race talking to my team about the accident. On the replays I can see how awful it looked. I'm not surprised that everyone has fallen silent, waiting for me to speak up. Horner advised me to go get examined, but I'm too stubborn and didn't agree. Even before the end of the race, I changed my clothes and, along with the last car that crossed the finish line, went to the hotel room.
Charles won, so despite my bad mood, I decide to congratulate him. As I enter the bedroom and lie down on the bed, I take my phone out of my pocket and go on Instagram. The first thing that stuck out to me was the photo that Leclerc added. He stands on it together with Hamilton. Reconciled! I press my lips into a thin line and give up congratulating him. I turn off my phone completely, not feeling like talking or texting with anyone. I put it down on the bedside table and sigh loudly, looking at the ceiling.
"Fucking Lewis." I say to myself.
After lying aimlessly for a while, I find that I don't need Charles at all to have a good time. I don't need it at all, or at least that's what I tell myself when I turn my phone on for a moment to text Kelly.
To: Kelly
Hey, will you guys stop by? Room 206.
Despite the fact that we are no longer in a relationship, we continue to be friends, which is much appreciated by P, whom I adore. I get out of bed in a much better mood at the thought of seeing these two and walk out of the bedroom. After a few minutes without knocking, P runs into the apartment and, smiling broadly, runs towards me, stretching her arms out in front of her.
"Maaaaax!!!" she shouts as I crouch down and also extend my arms toward her.
She falls into my embrace, laughing as I kiss her on the forehead. I glance at Kelly, who smiles at the sight and wants to take off her jacket already.
"Why don't we go to the playground?" I suggest. I don't feel like sitting in my room all evening.
"Yes, please!" shouts P, looking in Kelly's direction.
"Okay, let's go." She agrees, to which the girl happily runs towards the door. She has more energy than not one man in Formula. "How are you feeling?" the woman asks me worriedly as I approach her.
"Well... Tired." I say truthfully. She's the only person who knows everything that's going on with me these days. I haven't even told Daniel that, because I don't want to disturb him. He is busy with Formula.
"I saw Charles' picture." he says quietly as I close the door and we walk toward P, who is waiting for us at the elevator. I press my lips into a thin line, hearing these words.
"This..." I mumble. "It's nothing, we're not in a relationship after all, we're not in a relationship, so I have no right to be mad that he went somewhere with someone." I shrug my shoulders.
"But you would like to and you get angry." she crosses her arms over her chest.
"What? Of course not." I crinkle my eyebrows as I enter the elevator.
I don't know what she infers this from, but of course that's not the case. Just because Kelly is up to date with my private life doesn't mean those words are true. Okay, in recent times I've not only dated women, which led me and her to conclude that I'm bisexual, but that has nothing to do with the Ferrari driver.
"Max, look at you. You've been running after him for so many weeks, spending every free moment the two of you have, helping him with everything, looking at him like a mutt in love, and now you're jealous that he's with Lewis and not you, and you're angry with Hamilton about the accident, even though it's not his fault." She explains calmly, smiling gently. I listen to her words carefully, because she is a smart woman who often has smart things to say. Today is an exception, because she is ranting as if she were drunk.
"Lies." I lean against the wall, looking at P, who is making strange faces as she looks at her reflection in the mirror, and when she notices I'm looking at her, she walks over to me and grabs my hand. "I just got used to his presence. Now... I try not to need him when things are bad, because until today he was always next to me. Let her meet whoever she wants." I shrug my shoulders, lying to myself, as the thought of this someone being Hamilton eats at me from the inside, driving me crazy.
"How many people have told you that you have a crush on him?" Kelly doesn't let up.
"Two." I sigh, having had enough of this topic.
"And how many people are up to date with your life, do you trust them and know they will tell you good advice, besides Charles?"
"Two." I reply reluctantly. She and Daniel keep saying that I supposedly have something in common with Leclerc, which is not true. "But it still doesn't change anything." I add.
"Think it over, sunshine, before it's too late." She smiles gently as the elevator opens and exits, and I, along with P, follow her.
The whole evening passes very well and quickly for me. Penelope and I play on the playground for more than two hours, and then the three of us head to a restaurant for dinner, where Kelly tries to explain to P that she can't eat ice cream. Eventually it ends up that while my friend goes to the bathroom, I order ice cream for the girl and we both pretend that neither of us knows anything about it. Of course, it ends with P accidentally tells the truth as Kelly approaches her with a ruse and I get a scolding on the way out for not considering her opinion. I escort them to their hotel, saying goodbye to P for several minutes, as she begins to cry about not wanting to leave me, and I go to mine in a much better mood than before. I ignore the thoughts and the words Kelly said to me today. I don't want to worry about it now, so I decide to ignore it, adult behavior.
I get into the elevator and ride up to the right floor. I still have a smile on my lips, thanking myself in my mind, for writing to Kelly. It was the perfect decision. I definitely spent the evening better than I intended to. I wanted to feel sorry for myself, but instead I made P, who loves to spend time with me, happy with reciprocity.
I step out of the elevator as it opens and walk down the corridor toward my room until I suddenly cringe, noticing someone sitting hunched over by my door. After a moment, I realize it's Charles. He has his legs drawn to his chest and embraces them with his arms. He rests his forehead against his knees and through the silence that reigns, I hear his crying.
"Charles?" I ask confused.
The boy lifts his head. His eyes are all red from crying, and tears are still running down his cheeks. His hair is uncombed and there is blood on his lower lip. He stands up quickly when I'm close and without a word hugs me tightly, crying even louder. Stunned at first, I don't know what's going on, but after a second I embrace him, stroking his back with my hands.
"Let's go into the room." I say quietly, to which he agrees, with a nod. He moves away just enough for me to open the door, but he does not give up hugging my body. I, still keeping one hand on his back, with the other I open the door and we go inside.
"I'm sorry, Max." he says between fits of crying, clutching my T-shirt in his hands.
"For what? Charles, what happened?" I ask increasingly concerned.