𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴~ Lestappen

The Hard Times and the Soft Spot

It had been a rough week for Charles, and everyone could see it. After a disastrous race where everything that could go wrong did go wrong—botched pit stop, an engine failure, and a late-night argument with his team principal—Charles was ready to curl up into a ball and disappear from the world. He sat on the couch in their tiny shared apartment, staring blankly at the TV. Not even the overly dramatic soap opera Max had turned on could cheer him up.

Max, sitting at the other end of the couch, kept sneaking glances at Charles. It was obvious that Charles wasn’t just having a bad day—this was a full-on, existential crisis type of mood. And Max wasn’t exactly an expert in feelings. When it came to driving fast and yelling at race engineers, sure, Max had a handle on things. But comforting a sad Charles? That was a different beast altogether.

Max had tried everything in his limited "make people feel better" toolbox. He’d made Charles coffee (which Charles forgot about and left to go cold on the table). He’d put on Charles’s favorite racing highlights (which just made him groan in misery). He even attempted a very awkward shoulder pat, but it was like patting a sad cat—you know the one that’s all flopped over and staring into the void.

Finally, Max decided he had to say something. Anything. He couldn’t stand seeing Charles like this.

“Uh, you okay?” Max asked, his voice hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if asking was the right move.

Charles didn’t even turn his head. “yeah.”

Max frowned. He wasn’t good at this, but he cared about Charles too much to just let him sit there and wallow. He edged closer, trying to think of something deep and wise. “Look, you can’t win every race. I mean, I usually do, but, uh… not everyone can be like me.”

Charles gave him a side-eye so sharp it could’ve cut through titanium. Max immediately regretted his choice of words.

“Okay, that was stupid,” Max admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “But seriously, you’re one of the best drivers out there. Today was just bad luck. You’ll bounce back.”

Charles sighed heavily, slouching further down into the couch, like he was trying to become one with the cushions. “It’s not just today, Max. It feels like everything’s going wrong. I keep messing up. The team’s losing faith in me, and honestly, I’m losing faith in myself.”

Max’s heart squeezed in his chest. Seeing Charles, the guy who always had a cheeky smile and boundless energy, look so defeated was hard. It was like watching the sun dim. And Max hated it.

He scooted closer, awkwardly bumping Charles with his shoulder. “Hey, come on. It’s not like you’re doing this alone. I’m here, and I’ve seen you push through worse. Remember that time your steering wheel came off mid-race and you still finished in the top five? You’re basically a superhero with a car.”

Charles finally looked at Max, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “It’s not about the races. It’s just… I don’t know. Everything feels off.”

Max took a deep breath, knowing he had to step it up. He wasn’t the type to let his feelings show, but for Charles, he’d do it.

“You know,” Max started, shifting uncomfortably, “I’m really bad at this stuff. I’m not good at talking about feelings or whatever. But… you’re special, Charles. Not just because you’re fast or good at driving, but because you’re you. The guy who can cheer everyone up with a joke or make the whole garage laugh during a meeting. And when you’re feeling like this, it kinda sucks for everyone.”

Charles blinked, not expecting Max to get so real. Max was always the one who kept things light and competitive, so seeing him struggle with actual emotions was… kind of endearing.

Max scratched the back of his head, looking anywhere but at Charles. “Look, you’re not alone in this. You’ve got me, okay? I’m not going anywhere, even when you’re being all mopey and brooding.”

Charles snorted at that, finally sitting up straight. “Mopey?”

“Yeah, mopey,” Max teased, nudging him again. “You’re like one of those sad French artists who sits in cafés, drinking black coffee and staring out the window dramatically.”

Charles let out a small laugh, which felt like a victory to Max. At least he was breaking through the wall of sadness.

“And besides,” Max continued, now gaining some momentum, “if you keep this up, you’re going to ruin my mood. And you know I need to be in top form for my next race, so do us both a favor and snap out of it.”

Charles rolled his eyes but smiled for real this time. “Thanks, Max. Really. You’re not as bad at this as you think.”

Max puffed out his chest, pretending to take that as the highest compliment. “Obviously. I’m a man of many talents.”

They sat there for a few moments in a much more comfortable silence. The air was lighter now, and Charles seemed to have shaken off at least some of the heaviness he’d been carrying.

After a while, Max stood up abruptly. “Okay, enough sitting around. We’re going out.”

Charles raised an eyebrow. “Out? Where?”

“Anywhere,” Max declared. “We’ll find a place. Maybe that weird café down the street where you always order that disgusting green juice.”

Charles smirked. “It’s not disgusting. It’s healthy.”

“Sure, whatever you say,” Max said, already pulling Charles up from the couch. “Let’s go. We’ll walk, get some air. Maybe by the time we get back, you’ll realize how awesome you are again.”

Charles allowed himself to be dragged up, laughing a little at Max’s sudden burst of energy. “Fine. But only if you promise not to make me feel better by comparing me to yourself again.”

Max grinned. “No promises.”

As they headed for the door, Charles paused, looking at Max with a soft smile. “Seriously, though. Thanks for being here. It means a lot.”

Max shrugged, trying to act casual even though his ears were turning pink. “Yeah, well, someone’s got to keep you from spiraling into your mopey artist phase.”

Charles chuckled, shaking his head as they stepped outside. “You really don’t know how special you are, do you?”

Max rolled his eyes but smiled. “You’re the special one, Charles. I’m just the guy who happens to be your personal mood-lifter.”

“More like mood-swing,” Charles teased.

Max laughed, bumping him playfully as they walked side by side. “Hey, it works, doesn’t it?”

Charles grinned, feeling lighter already. Maybe things weren’t perfect, but with Max by his side, they were definitely better.