Story of another us

Charles Leclerc

Oh, you can't hear me cry

See my dreams all die

From where you're standing

On your own

It's so quiet here

And I feel so cold

This house no longer

Feels like home

(Ben Cocks feat. Nikisha Reyes - So Cold)

Damn it, who would've thought that on the first day of my stay in Sardinia I would meet Max fucking Verstappen?! Yes, I remember that the hotel signed a contract with both "Ferrari" and "Red Bull", but I sincerely hoped that I would be able to spend these days of rest in peace and quiet. Although who am I kidding? I knew he'd be here. He, whose name until recently I pronounced with tenderness, and now I can't even perceive it by ear. He, whose touch used to give me comfort and tenderness, and now it stings like the bite of the most disgusting jellyfish. He's the one I used to be ready to run to at the first opportunity, and now I'm running away from him as far as possible. How quickly everything changed.

Our meeting at the hotel was... it wasn't what I imagined it to be. I would like to discuss everything calmly with him, but when he began to pretend that he didn't understand what was going on at all, I wanted to yell at him, hit him, send him to hell. But I restrained myself, barely, but I restrained myself. As I said before: passive aggression is my forte. Although, judging by my face and reaction to Verstappen, I managed to restrain myself very badly. Charles, what did you do well at all? Especially lately.

As soon as I was in my room, I pressed my back against the door, closed my eyes, in the corners of which treacherous wet drops began to accumulate, and pressed my palm to my chest. My legs seemed to stop holding me, so I rolled down and sat on the floor. Now there is only the door between Max and me, which I am so stubbornly propping up with my back. Do I want him to knock? Or do I want him to leave? I don't know what I want. Previously, hotel rooms were like a small shelters for Max and me, where we could be ourselves, where we were happy, where we were just like at home. Now the hotel room seems so empty, so cold, that I could swear that I'll freeze soon.

I felt a couple of drops fall on my knees and immediately roll down. Damn, am I crying? Because of him? How many times is my heart ready to jump out of my chest after meeting him? There's nothing I can do about the fact that I still love him. Damn, did I admit to myself that I actually love him? Although what's the use of it now? Love will not disappear in a day, even if it is consumed by hatred, resentment and irritation.

I just noticed that my hands were shaking. Damn it, Max, what have you done to me? If I'm shaking now after meeting him, what will happen during the races? What if we have to stand side by side on the podium again? I can't. It will be beyond my strength. I can even already see the headlines: "Charles Leclerc ran off the podium" or "Charles Leclerc had a nervous breakdown after finishing in the prize position." Just perfect, isn't it?

Somehow I'm sure Max didn't leave right away. It was as if I felt that he was standing outside the door, as if he was waiting for something. But what does he want from me? He decided to break up with me. He wrote me those messages himself. He himself didn't give any explanation. He himself... he himself has come to me now. What for? Does he want to see how he managed to break me? Does he want to amuse his ego seeing how I'm suffering? Does he want to see how much he hurt me? And why did he pretend that he didn't understand what was going on, if he had done everything himself? If he plays the fool, then he does it perfectly. Plus one talent in the piggy bank of many talents of this jerk.

I don't know how long I sat on the floor. Time seemed to freeze, and emotions and thoughts decided to attack at the same time, killing any desire to move and do something. But somehow bringing myself back to normal, if that's what my current state can be called, I stuck away from the door and went to the mini-refrigerator. Drink. I'm just thirsty. My mouth just went dry and I need to drink something. That's because of how nervous I feel right now. I just want to drink a bottle of ice water in one gulp to cool down, because it seems to me that a fire is burning inside me, although I feel incredibly cold outside.

I remembered about the pills that my doctor prescribed for me, so I quickly found them in my suitcase and took them. "Take them when you feel that your nerves are about to give up. They will calm you down, and you will be able to act like any normal person," the doctor told me. It looks like it's time to heed his advice. Although it is unlikely that a person whose condition can only be controlled by pills can be called "normal".

After taking the pills, I lay down on the sofa. It remains to wait for the magic effect so that I can function as a "normal person". My hands are still shaking, even if not so much. Damn, why is everything going this way? Why when I become at least a little bit happier, something shitty happens and everything becomes even worse than it was? Charles, maybe you're just not meant to be happy? Maybe you just don't deserve anything good to happen to you?

I'm not going to win a championship in racing, I'm not going to have a happy relationship either, even my mental health has sent me to hell. So what am I hoping for anyway? The fact that one day everything will magically get better? That I might be needed by someone other than my family? That someone can love me? Maybe I just don't deserve love? And Max just clearly showed it to me. Congratulations, Charles, your thoughts have returned to Verstappen.

I sighed heavily, and after a short period of time I felt myself starting to calm down. Still, the pill was not as useless as I thought. I'll have to thank the doctor for it when I see him again.

Having become the "old" Charles again, I still decided to start my "work" on vacation today. I need to pose in front of the paparazzi cameras, show a happy couple with the girl I'm dating - well, that's what the press and fans think. Few people know about the real personal life of pilots, but it's for the best.

After writing a message and coordinating plans with my companion, an hour later we were at the pier, where a yacht was waiting for us. A short boat trip, photos of a couple in love on a yacht, then photos with family and friends to consolidate the image of the "ideal life" - that's all the work on camera during the holiday.

Every day I check photos in social networks from pilots' vacations - it's interesting how other people rest, what they do, maybe someone met someone and is resting like a normal person. Speaking of photos, one of the fans noticed that Max and I even dress in similar clothes. I even thought at one point that it was pretty... cute? Nice? It's like an unconscious sign that we are not indifferent to each other, as if we wear "paired clothes". But it really would be nice if we were in a relationship, but based on what we have now, it's even annoying. Just another and unnecessary reminder of each other's existence.

The days flew by one after another, the working vacation went on as usual and everything would have been as usual only if I hadn't tried not to run into the Dutchman in or out of the hotel. My only salvation was the sea, or rather going to sea on a yacht for a couple of days, where Verstappen definitely would not have appeared out of the blue.

But all good things come to an end, so my real vacation on the yacht was soon replaced by regular escapes from Max. As soon as I notice him somewhere near me, I immediately try to get away; if I see him in the recreation area at the hotel, I go to the beach and vice versa. Sometimes it seems to me that he appears on purpose where I am or where I want to go. Maybe he's playing with me again? How was it then on the track? Continues to play "cat and mouse" game, where my role is a hunted mouse?

Anyway, I don't want not to see, not to hear, not to communicate with him. Yes, we haven't been in a relationship that long, but maybe we've just been trying to figure out what was between us for too long? Although who am I kidding? Charles, wake up, for him it was just a game, and you are another hobby. So accept it and move on.