Same but... different (Lestappen and Carlando)

Chapter 55

Warning: Jos mentioned (a lot) and physical/mental harm — violent parental figure

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POV: Charles

Both the flight back to Monaco and the next few days went well, and I can't wait to go racing again, this time in Pierre's home country. I also remembered I had promised Max to talk about my personal issues with the therapist, and realised I didn't see her last week in the end, so I'm determined to make it work this time. Even just being apart from Max like this, for a few days, makes my heart beat too fast, my mind escaping my control sometimes. I don't like it, and I know I need to do something to change that.

Max has texted me several times since he landed too, but we couldn't really see each other because his family stays in Monaco until we all go to France. I was surprised to learn that his mom was there too, as she's not often in the picture, but the way he seemed to be so happy comforted me a little. He's been a little bit distant though, or at least I feel this way, but maybe it's because with his family around he doesn't want to risk anything, I don't know... It feels like he's hiding something from me though... But I shouldn't let my thoughts spiral again, I don't want to repeat the terrible things I've done last time.

I also decided to finally finish some of my music pieces, that have been playing in my head for way too long. Sitting at the piano, I repeat again and again the same notes, finding peace in creating music. It also reminds me of when I composed that song for Max, and the thought brings a smile to my face. If we ever make our relationship public, I'd love to make this for everyone to hear, dedicate it to him in front of the whole world.

Snapping out of my thoughts when I hear the bell of my apartment, I get up and open the door, thanking the delivery man and quickly grabbing my pizzas. I don't often change my trainer's plans for my meals, but I really didn't feel like eating a salad today, and decided to make a small exception by ordering my favourite pizza, of course.

It really feels lonely in there, though. No one in the room, or in the whole apartment actually. I decide to play some music, trying to distract myself from the negative thoughts sitting in my mind. I also text Pierre, our friendship always making me smile somehow. It's incredible that after all these years, and the rivalry in F1, we've not had one big argument. He answers in a few seconds, and we plan some activity for next week, although I know he'll be pretty busy with all the media in his home race. But our families always like to see each other, and so we often attend those dinners together.

As I go to sleep, I think about tomorrow's flight and all the media duties coming up. The only positive in this weekend will probably not be the track, but surely how much French I'll hear. I don't really care anymore what language people use to speak to me, but it's true that being surrounded by your native language makes it slightly more peaceful, and even more with how much I travel.

POV: Max

As soon as I'm out of the plane, I go to the address my mom gave me, probably where she stays at in Monaco. I'm still trying to guess what she could have to say to me, that is so important it has to be literally in the middle of the night. At least here, because I'm still on the Canadian time, or my body is. I'm not really tired, more hungry if anything.

As I make my way into the hotel, I ask the staff for my mom's room floor, and quickly take the lift. I don't like narrow spaces, apart from racing cars of course, but between this or three flights of stairs, it's an easy choice. I have a special hate for lifts though, and my heart starts racing when the doors close, as I remember a particularly painful experience.

I was just seven years old, and to my despair, had finished third in a karting race. I wasn't so sad about just a podium, but I knew he was, and that was enough. My father said nothing until we were both alone in the metallic cage, and this is where he beat me for the first time. It wasn't so bad, nothing that could be visible once we got out, of course, but his words cut deep into my skin that night.