The bet | Charles Leclerc

• Twenty-Seven •

Tuesday

I've officially forgotten how to be a normal, functioning human.

I don't cry, I don't smile, fuck I don't even feel anymore.

I'm just a numb mess of flesh and bones, walking around this shitty airport.

"Isa please" Max pleads behind me for the millionth time this night. He's lucky I'm even allowing him to be here.

He's the last fucking person I want to talk to.

"Leave me alone." I mutter through gritted teeth.

Tears have been spilled, love has been confessed, hearts have been broken, and now there's nothing left.

Nothing left inside of me.

"Isa, I just want to make sure that you're okay, I'm really sorry that this all happened, I ju-" Max begins to ramble, but I physically can't bear to listen to it.

"Please! Just shut the fuck up!" I shout at him.

Luckily we're in a private area of the airport, all alone, waiting for the private jet, that Max has forced me to take.

Unwillingly I turn my head, looking at him for the first time in hours. His eyes are tired, and annoyingly filled with guilt.

His mouth is a straight line, quiet and caught off guard.

"You participated in that bet, you fucking let him do that to me!" I yell, finally letting out all the frustrations out.

I may be numb from all the pain and sadness, but there's a roaring anger building up inside me.

I know, another classic Verstappen trait.

"I didn't think he'd actually do it, and I tried to stop him Isa, I threatened him and told him to stay away!" Max helplessly defends himself, but every word goes in through one ear, and straight out my other.

Every word sounds fucking pathetic.

"You bet 100€ for him to have sex with me Max! In what world does that seem like a good fucking idea?!" I scream.

Max lets his head drop into his hands.

"I don't fucking know Isa! I.. I... I don't know.." He mutters, a hopeless tone spreading with every word he manages to get out.

"And you know what, he did so much more than secure those 100€, he made me love him Max!" I shout.

Max looks up at me, a horrified look in his eyes.

"No, you didn't right..?" He whispers, eyes wake and worried.

Verstappens don't love.
It took Max a year of dating his girlfriend to say the three words.

It took a whole marriage, for my father to realize he's incapable of it.

"Yes, I did! I was even the first one to say it! I loved Charles Leclerc, and I fucking meant it" My heart shatters piece by piece. Loved; past tense..

Max stares at me intensely, his gaze glued stuck. "Isa I'm sorry, I'm... I'm so fucking sorry." He whispers.

"I can't control myself in that fucking rivalry. And at the time, you were so different.. I thought that there was no chance he'd even get near you"