Nevermind - Tsunoda x Gasly x Ocon

🏎Chapter 8🏎

"You can kiss a hundred boys in bars,
Shoot another shot, try to stop the feeling"

- Good Luck, Babe! - Chappell Roan

🏎

•Pierre's POV•

Thursday, media day Austrian gp,

"Salut ma poule, you're all alone?" I was hiding in the paddock when I saw Charles and decided to go tease him.
As he sees me coming, he turns his head and a brief smile appears on his face. "Hm, Max is late."

"Can I walk you to your conference. If that's okay?" The flashes of the cameras arrive in front of us, while we wait in front of the room. We make a small way to be quiet.
"Aren't you supposed to be in a technical meeting with your team right now?" I see him checking the surroundings with the corner of my eye, which may have a connection with his question, to which I shrug indifferently.
I take a deep breath before answering, checking the surroundings as well, staring into the mirror with my azure eyes facing me. I didn't want to. "Well, I'm avoiding Esteban a little bit right now."
I hear an exaggerated sigh, so my gaze that previously remained on the mirror turns to my best friend with attention.
"Pff, again? Did you get in your head again?"
The way he said it seems to minimize my problem. Or maybe I'm the one amplifying it.
I pinch my nose bone slightly, expressing my annoyance. "No not really it's... the picture is more than annoying. I can't look at him without thinking about it, and neither can he, I guess."
"Oh yeah, the famous picture on Sunday... Honestly, it wasn't that bad." Charles said with his mischievous air, his dimples digging into his cheeks.
"You say that but you weren't on the plane with us." I say cautiously, sighing exasperatingly.
To which he made a rather understanding expression.
"What I mean is you're not the first people to get drunk after a party. We've all done stupid things." He explained very clearly and calmly.
"It smells strangely of the lived." I squint. "There are things you have hidden from me"
He looked up.
"That's not the point, Pierre. Don't get all worked up about it. We've all done stuff, drunk, like I just said."
I think for a few seconds.
"Yeah, but it's different. With Esteban, it's never like that. I don't know... it was easier with Yuki." I whisper with hesitation.
"You can't let it get to you on the weekend. You're here to fly, not to go over things."
"You, have you ever had this kind of weird moment with pilots with whom you have a special relationship?" I ask with uncertainty.
"If you knew... but you have to learn to get over it. Sometimes it happens."
On these words, he patted my shoulder with compassion.
"Easy to say..." I whisper under my beard with contempt.
I sit at the back of the room, keeping clear of other pilots. Charles joins the speakers' sofas and keeps a seat next to him for Max. The journalists take their seats, the atmosphere is quiet, almost relaxed, while everyone prepares for this first conference of the weekend.
I quickly greet the Canal+ staff, with a polite smile on my face, before sinking into my chair, slightly away from the commotion. Logan and Zhou are already there, Liam too, who replaces Yuki. Their conversations are fluid and natural, sometimes a little nervous at the prospect of questions to come. It's strange to see them so relaxed when I, who just looks at it, feel a dull tension that does not want to leave me. But I don't know what it is.
The conference starts slowly, with the usual questions about the upcoming weekend, expectations, and free practice performances. Logan speaks first, with his usual somewhat awkward enthusiasm, while Zhou remains focused, his answers measured as always. Liam finished P19 last Sunday, ask him if he will be able to score points this weekend. With a single practice session
Charles is there, impeccable in his role, glancing at me from time to time, but something seems to distract him. He answers the reporters, but his gaze lingers briefly towards the door between two questions, a faint gleam of impatience in his eyes.
It lasts about fifteen minutes, until the door opens discreetly to let Max in. Without any embarrassment, he crosses the room with the same quiet assurance, a slight smile at the corner of his lips. I observe him, but he seems to ignore the tension of the room, as if his "slight" delay was just a detail without importance.
He is unperturbed, as if the world around him could collapse and he would not blink. 
He will sit directly next to Charles, who greets him in a way almost imperceptible for someone who does not know them well.
As soon as he sat down, he leaned over to him and whispered something. Charles responds with a discreet smile that is noticeable with his dimples, but at this distance, I catch their eyes. A silent exchange, a coded language that only they understand. Their complicity is palpable, and although the conference is in full swing, let everyone watch them, they seem to be in their own bubble. A journalist asks Charles about his P5 in Spain and his expectations for this weekend, and he quickly resumes his role, responding concisely and professionally, but as soon as he finishes, he turns his attention to his rival.
They continue to whisper among themselves, their faces completely turned towards each other. We understand that Max tells him how he was injured the day before with his simulator. There is a complicity between them that I cannot ignore. It's not just about camaraderie. It's more intimate, deeper.
I watch them from a distance, trying to capture details without really understanding why I'm doing this. Moreover, I notice that Max puts his hand on Charles's thigh, taking advantage of a question that would have caused laughter and a moment of confusion to make this gesture away from sight.
The conference continues, but for me it becomes secondary. The sneaking glances between Max and Charles, their hands in front of their mouths so that no one can read their lips. I try to concentrate on what is being said, on the other pilots, but my mind remains trapped in this silent observation.
Meanwhile, I feel the distance between me and them. I try to listen to the other pilots' conversations and concentrate, but the intimacy that Max and Charles share captures my attention. It is subtle, almost invisible, but undeniable. One of those exchanges of glances, a sneer smile, a hand laid discreetly on the other's leg. Everything in their interaction seems private, secret, as if the world around them does not really exist for them.
As the conference ends, I feel a hint of envy, not because of their relationship, but because I feel like a stranger to this kind of complicity now that Yuki is no longer by my side. I feel isolated, caught up in my own problems, unable to connect with anyone, especially not Esteban at this time.
I guess I miss Yuki.