Lie To Survive | Leclerc x Verstappen

Melbourne 2022

Max had thought about the night in the club constantly for the last week. He couldn't get the image of Charle's lustful eyes staring back at him out of his head. He wondered what the man felt while looking in his eyes. He wondered if he could ever feel anything other than hatred, after the things they had said to each other in Abu Dhabi. He wanted to see Charles again and at the same time wished he could erase the thought of him from his mind permanently and never set eyes on him again. Ultimately, he hoped to run into him casually around Monaco.

Of all the weeks in which they could have a no-race weekend, was this the right one?

He wasn't sure whether Charles had come back home to Monaco or if he was already in Australia, enjoying the sun with Daniel. Maybe he was somewhere with fucking Lando Norris. Thinking back to their Abu Dhabi fight, it was all Norris' fault. It was probably partly Max's wrong doing, but mainly Norris was to take almost the entirety of the blame.

Verdomde Norris.

Max was at the gym every day, as he always was, but he had found himself getting to the building more and more times again, trying to melt off the stress that had been building up in his head. He knew two races were not a lot to base a season off of, but he wasn't satisfied. If DRS battles and attacks were possible, it was because he wasn't setting enough margin. If he locked up turns, it was because he was battling his car more than he was battling the other's in some part of the circuit. He could not afford to make this kind of mistakes. He, after all, was not a rookie anymore.

When making his way to his gym's front desk for the fourth time, the receptionist stopped him.

"Mr. Verstappen, another client left a note for you before leaving, around an hour ago."

While saying this, the girl handed Max a note written on branded white paper, with the gym's expensive-looking logo printed on the bottom. He could recognise that handwriting anywhere.

'You're overworking. Take the evening off. Pavyllon, 8 pm. Reservation under Leclerc.'

So he was in Monaco. And he wanted to take Max to dinner. He was in Monaco and he wanted to go to dinner with Max. He invited Max to dinner and he was staying in Monaco. He was in Monaco, where Max was, and now they were going to dinner together.

He was going to see Charles.

He kept staring at the note, reading it over and over as if it would, at some point, reveal some hidden feature it hadn't shown before. After a handful of minutes, the receptionist spoke.

"Mr.Verstappen, is everything all right?"

"I'm going to dinner. He's in Monaco. Have a good evening."

-

Max hated dressing up, but, unfortunately, Charles had chosen a fancy sea-view restaurant for their date.

Diner. geen date, alleen een diner.

He didn't know what to expect. Was Charles mad at him? did he want to talk about the club? the race? neither? He wasn't sure.

When he got down to the garage, he debated on which of his cars to take out that night. He usually would go straight to the superleggera, but that was the car he drove in Abu Dhabi and Jeddah. No, he needed a fresh start.

He grabbed the keys from the safe, and hopped into his Ferrari SP2. Seemed like the obvious choice.

When he finally got in front of the restaurant, a valet offered him to park the car even before he could spot him, almost as he had been waiting for him, in difference to the other valets who were dynamically moving around the premises.