Hate to race

Monaco 1.2

Max felt numb as Daniel led him out of the party, his body still shaking from the fight and the overwhelming emotions coursing through him.

The cold air outside hit him hard, but it did nothing to clear his mind.

His head was spinning, and all he could think about was the fight, the words Charles had thrown at him, and the feeling of being utterly exposed.

Daniel glanced at him as they reached the car, his expression a mixture of concern and frustration.

"What the hell was that, Max?" he asked, his voice low but serious as he unlocked the car.

"You two were at each other's throats. I've seen you fight with Charles before, but that was different."

Max didn't answer.

He just stood by the car, his hands still trembling as he wiped his face roughly with his sleeve, trying to push down the tears that kept threatening to fall.

He couldn't believe how everything had spiraled so quickly, and now everyone at the party had seen him like that—teary-eyed, panicking, and weak.

"Max?" Daniel pressed, a little gentler this time.

He opened the door for him, urging him to get inside.

Max finally nodded, slipping into the passenger seat without saying a word.

His heart was still racing, and the shame that had been gnawing at him all night was only getting worse.

He hated how easily Charles had gotten under his skin, how he had let the past get to him, and more than anything, he hated himself for not being able to keep it together.

He had lost control, just like his father always told him he would.

As Daniel started the car, the silence between them felt heavy.

Max stared out the window, trying to calm his breathing, but all he could see was his father's face, all he could hear were the words from that night echoing in his head.

"Useless. You can't even handle yourself."

Daniel finally broke the silence, glancing over at Max as he pulled away from the party.

"Look, I don't know what's been going on between you and Charles, but... you need to talk to someone about it. This isn't just about racing anymore, is it?"

Max clenched his jaw, his hands gripping his knees tightly.

He didn't want to talk about it.

Not with Daniel, not with anyone. Especially not about Bahrain.
No one could know about that night, about how close he had come to losing himself completely.

He couldn't bear to let anyone see that weakness, not again.

"It's nothing," Max muttered, his voice tight. "Just... too much going on."

Daniel didn't push further, but he didn't look convinced either.

"Mate, I know something's been up for a while. And I'm not saying you need to tell me everything, but you can't keep bottling it up like this. I've seen you like this before, and it never ends well."

Max's chest tightened, the familiar weight of guilt and shame pressing down on him. He hated how Daniel was always the one who could see through him, always the one who knew when something was wrong.

But Max couldn't explain it—not without admitting to everything he was trying to bury.

They drove in silence for a while, the city lights of Monaco passing by in a blur. Max kept his head turned toward the window, his mind racing, the fight with Charles playing on repeat in his head.