Alone In A Crowded Room (A Lestappen Story)

Not Strong Enough

On the day of the Bahrain Grand Prix Charles was anything but confident. He shifted from foot to foot as he talked to his trainer and was mostly in his driver's room or preparing for the race all day. Two hours before the race he started his true physical preparations.

Everything was a blur till he got into the car. Then the world around him was still, so slow that he could tell the milliseconds apart. He counted the lights and then heard the start of the beep that signalled go and was off like a rocket. The Ferraris were fast but the Red Bulls were faster. While he hated Verstappen, he was not whom he fought with on track. His battle was with Perez, the Mexican Minister Of Defence stuck true to his name and didn't let Charles past.

Sweat trickled down Charles' face and into his suit and it was hot. His water got over a few laps before the race ended but he sucked it up - it wasn't that hot anyways - and crossed the line.

Charles' vision was blurry as the Dutch national anthem got over and the champagne spray only made his dizziness worse. When he got away from it all he tried to wade through the others and get something - anything. He needed water. His throat was burning but this desert was sans oasis and he almost collapsed. A hand steadied him as he staggered pushed a can of energy drink into his hands and he didn't think as he opened it and drank the whole thing. When his mind cleared there wasn't anyone around him and he was shaky.

Through the post race conference Charles sipped on his energy drink, occasionally answering questions when asked. He didn't feel too good.

The feeling only intensified as he got ready for the afterparty. A bell rang and he opened the door to Pierre Gasly who walked in, closing the door behind him before smiling, "You look like shit."

"Thank you." Charles said, laughing and shaking his head. He took off the pimple patches he had on but the eye masks had to stay on for another few minutes.

He arrived at the club with Alex on his arm, "You'll be okay?" He asked her.

"Yeah," She nodded, "I'll be fine."

"Tell me if anything happens, okay?"

"Okay." She smiled and kissed his cheek before disappearing away with Rebecca, Carlos' 'girlfriend'.

Charles then proceeded to get drunk. He drank and danced and drank and danced and drank until he was babbling to Carlos about god-even-knows-what and Pierre had to take him back to the hotel.

Charles woke up hungover and alone.

On the jet to Saudi he, Carlos, Lando, Pierre and Yuki slept off massive hangovers and when time came to land they each took their thirteen minutes in the bathroom to freshen up. There would be paparazzi.

Charles was the Prince of Ferrari and one of the most well loved drivers on the grid. He had to look good. He fidgeted with his rings and put on lip balm in anticipation for the fans. While departing he made sure to smile, but not like it was for the cameras. Lando, so effortlessly charming, offered him a candy but he declined, not really in the mood.

The one day of 'rest' the drivers got before media day was eaten up in testing, diet plans, workouts and training.

On media day Charles and Carlos filmed a couple of videos, did a lot of interviews, signed a lot of caps and banners and posters and Charles almost signed a marriage certificate by accident. It looked like a lot of fun from the outside but he was dying inside. When he'd wanted to be a racing driver as a kid he'd never imagined how much he'd have to do other than racing. It was tiring and he just wanted to be done with it.

Free practice was the next day and he was doing his nightly exercise routine alone in the gym - it was well past midnight so no one would disturb him (or so he thought) - when Verstappen walked in. He took the machine next to leclerc, "It's a pity, really," He said, "When you finally get a good car but Red Bull is still too far ahead for you." Charles ignored him, "People call you my rival but how could you be when you can't even get past Checo?" He scoffed, shaking his head as he increased the speed on his machine. Charles had the urge to push him off.

When Charles got to his room the words played over in his head, twisting themselves and cutting wounds into him. You're nothing. You have a good car and you still can't get past Checo. You'll always be third. Always be the lowest on the podium with the last place trophy because you're good but not good enough. Always an angel, never a god. Charles pushed the thoughts away as much as he could. When he failed, he closed his eyes, letting them consume him and he fell asleep in tears.

AN // I hope y'all are enjoying this story so far, I'll be updating once or twice a week, maybe more, hopefully not less

Don't be a silent reader, I love to see the comments <3