SILENT (MV x CL)

3. MEMORY LOSS

Oh fuck

Max closes his eyes again not yet being able to bare the light.

Even with his eyes closed he could feel someone sleeping next to him. However his headache was too bad to worry about it.

Suddenly it had daunted to him again.

I won, I am the world champion.

Happiness overloaded him. And carefully he opened his eyes, using the strength the happiness had given him. Looking left he discovered it was not a woman who was laying next to him, which he had expected. It was the one and only Martin Garrix, still in the clothes he had wore the night before.

Max had realized he really needed to wake up properly. Lots to do today, interviews, answering messages and calls, and of course organizing the best-kept-secret of the formula 1 community.

Max grabbed the hotel phone from the nightstand.

"Roomservice, what can I help you with?"

"First of all, can you please not yell?" Max's voice sounded raspy and desperate.

"Of course, I'm terribly sorry sir," the man whispered back.

"Can you please bring me some juice or a smoothie of some sort? And could you add a box of paracetamol with that?" Max tried his hardest to sound polite.

"Will be right up."

"Thank you," Max responded and laid the horn back on the nightstand. Martijn was slowly waking up next to him. Probably experiencing the same problems as Max.

"Good morning" he manages to say.

"Yo," Max responded, "I'm going to take a shower."

Charles had woken up alone.

After a long night of dancing he had come back to his hotelroom, undressed and jumped straight into bed.

Now he was up he wanted to see if he had missed anything. When he turned to get his phone, he saw it was not on the nightstand, it must be still in his pockets.

He climbed out of bed, reaching for his jeans on the floor and got his phone out of its pockets.

He turned it on. He had dozens of notifications, when scrolling through them one stood out.

23 missed calls from Max Verstappen

No voicemails

And then he remembered everything he had done a pretty good job at forgetting last night. Max's yacht, him inviting him, Charles declining his offer, the calls and the voicemail. And now this; 23 missed calls! 23!

What the actual fuck?! What does this guy want from me? Only to know why didn't want to party with him? Seems quite obvious to me.

Or did it seem obvious? After replying to some other messages and apologizing to his mom for walking away the other day. He couldn't stop thinking about Max.

He hates me and I hate him, it has always be that way, will always be that way.

He re-listens the voicemail.

"Charles, do you even like me?" Max's voice was so fragile and insecure.

Do I like him? No I don't.

But Charles couldn't figure out why he disliked him so much, even when they were kids. Okay, they weren't exactly best friends and loathed each other on the race track, but apart from that they got along okay, they actually had a lot in common too.