It’s not your fault, Charlie…
You would think that it would be the race for Ferrari, particularly to its golden boy, Charles
Leclerc, a lot of people think it still is. But to everyone’s dismay, the pole that was once in his
hands, now gone. “IT’S LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO HERE IN SAO PAULO!” He
wasn't a part of it.
It only takes a blink of an eye for something to go wrong in formula 1. It only took a blink of
an eye for Charles Leclerc to realize there is not much he could do with his situation, they
fucked him up again. It only took a deep breath for him to know he needed to step out of his
car. And it only took one radio message for Max Verstappen to have his world crumbling
once again despite the position he had gained.
“What happened during the formation lap?”
“What was the team’s reaction to your crash?”
“Is there a chance that you will be moving to a new team by the end of 2024?”
Bombarded with questions he can’t answer. He knows the answers, he just can’t make the
words come out of his mouth. “We’ll get it next time,” one of the staff told him, he couldn’t
even remember who it was anymore, all he wanted was to finally get some space from
everyone. Even if he wanted to go out and watch the rest of the race, he was too embarrassed
to have people look at him.
It’s not like he’d miss a thing anyway, he knew deep down that only one person is fast
enough to win a race, to win every race. His man, Max Verstappen.
“Charles? Max is here. It’s best if the both of you talk outside the track before the media–”
“Oh fuck the media,” Max spoke before forcing the door open, immediately interlocking eyes
with Charles. His eyes glistened with tears that are yet to stream down his frowned face. Max
closed the door he just broke and sat with Charles in the corner where he’s all curled up, still
in his race suit and cap. “Hey you,” Max started as he smiled. “I’m sorry it took so long for
me to be here.”
Charles smiled, “You have media duties, go out and celebrate your win first.”
“I’d rather sit in silence with you in times like this.”
“Horner would be fuming mad with you.”
“That’s nothing new.”
“Please, Max, just leave me alone.”
“Do you want me to leave, schatje?”
“No, please stay.” Max hummed in response and sat in silence with him.
“Why am I so unlucky, Max?” Charles laughed with disbelief. “We’ve been racing each other
since we were kids, we’re so near with each other yet so far away. When did I become such a
wreck, Max? All I ever wanted was to do something to make everyone proud of me, even just
for once. What is wrong with me? Where am I lacking? I train double hours, I push my
limits, I do my fucking best. When will my best be ever good enough? What did I do wrong
to deserve this, Max?”
“It’s not your fault, Charlie.. Hush now, schatje, it’s not your fault.” Max hummed as he
pulled Charles to his embrace, cradling him like a child. Soon enough Max felt the warm
tears in his neck where Charles’ head was placed. “You’re good enough, you’re enough. It’s
not your fault.”
Charles moved away from Max’s embrace, wiping away his tears and chuckled, realizing he
had just cried within the embrace of his own rival calling him darling in dutch.
“You know there’s always a seat for you in redbull, yeah?” Max jokingly said. But jokes are
always half meant, Charles really does have a seat waiting for him in RB, he just has to say
the word.
“We wouldn’t want to feed the fans their fantasies now do we? Me in a redbull racing suit?”
“Give it a try, schatje.”
“Fuck off, Max. Let’s go with media duties.”
“Hey Max..”
“Hmm?”
“Thank you.”
