Hate You - LN

Bonus - Carlos

COVID has been gruelling, everything from being unable to be in Maronello, to the halt of racing, to worrying about my family back home, and everything else. I'm ready for this thing to be over with. Though I don't know if it ever will.

The parts that have been keeping me sane in this whole mess are the friends I have been able to see here in Monaco, the social circle Ferrari have let me keep and so on. But even that is getting hard. I know Charles is getting tired of me. He's been pretty quiet these last few days with only simple word-text replies that don't even sound like him. Lando is even more so. Though I can't blame him, I don't think he's gotten past re-watching Grey's Anatomy and eating ice cream alone in his apartment yet.

It makes no sense, why Devin would walk out on Lando. Last time I'd talked to Lando at the gym he'd been talking about asking her to officially be his girlfriend. Though I'll be honest I thought they were already dating purely off the few times I have seen them together and the way Lando talks, or talked about her. She didn't seem like one of the many girls out for fame or bothered by it even. And she certainly didn't seem like the ghosting type. But I suppose assumptions can be wrong.

With a sigh, I run my hands through my hair and put down the TV remote. A Spanish show my mom has been binge-watching is on and I've been trying to keep up with it so we have something to talk about on our weekly FaceTimes, but the horrid acting and predictable plotline are almost more painful than being locked up in my apartment all day. Bored, like usual, I stand up from the couch, the muscles in my legs straining against the action and walk over to my small kitchen.

My small, single-bedroom apartment I started renting back when I signed with Ferrari because Charles was here, and Maronello is much closer than it was when I lived back home. But I'd be lying if I said I hadn't grown to love it. It's small, and older than some of the more expensive, luxury apartments in Monaco. The beige walls are stamped with cozy artwork, and the blinds are heavy enough to block out the sun when I want to forget the hours of the day to binge some movies. My bedroom is big enough for a king-size bed with a nightstand on either side, and the window on the far side is a sliding glass door that opens up onto my patio. There is AC, and it's good at that. As well as a newly renovated bathroom that somehow was designed to keep the charming coziness of the place.

I open up my fridge and reach out to one of my protein shakes. I'd forgotten to drink it after my run this morning. As I set it on the counter someone knocks on my door so I set the protein shake down and walk the few steps around the corner to my front entryway.

The person knocks again, this time vigorously and multiple times over.

"Tranquilo, I'm coming." I shift the lock and pull open the door, the old hinges squealing only to be greeted by Charles just about falling into my lap. "Mierda"

Instinctually, I loop my arms under his and hoist him up. He's breathing hard but not like he's just been running, his breath isn't even or deep but the opposite. He's panicked and when Charles looks up, his cheeks are pale and his eyes are bloodshot and surrounded by dark circles.

"Dev-" He heaves. I opt not to say anything and drag him to my bathroom. Thankfully the door is ride beside the front entrance and Charles seems lucid enough to at least attempt to move for the toilet. I help him the rest of the way as he offers up the contents of his stomach.

His knees crash to the floor beside the toilet and once I know he's stable enough to hold himself up, I grab a fresh washcloth from my vanity drawer and wet it in the bathroom sink under cold water.

He's shaking, not just from the sick, because as I rest the cloth on the back of his neck that seems to ease. But something else. I've never known Charles to shake or panic. He might have his demons, we all do, but of anyone in the paddock, he's always been the one with a mind of steel.