A/N: Well, that race was certainly something 💀 Max still got more points out of it than I expected. I'm happy for Carlos, though! And in a way happy for how everything went, because it very much caters to what I envisioned for this chapter 👀 Enjoy!
Charles falls down onto his bed exhausted. The celebrations inside the team went on for quite a while in the paddock before they had to pack everything up for Mexico. It's near midnight when Charles is finally able to check his phone.
Mister Smiley Face: We warned you.
Carlos: I'm sorry, Charles. But I couldn't do this anymore. I couldn't keep watching on. Max is my friend too.
Worst Padel Player Ever: I know.
Charles heart drops at Max's message. He dials his number immediately, begging every entity that'll listen to him that the Dutchman picks up.
"Charles." His blood's pulsing loudly in his ears.
"Max..."
"Listen, Charles-" Charles knows he should let Max finish. What Max is going to say can go every possible way, but he can't refrain himself from interrupting.
"Max, I'm so incredibly sorry! I should've never agreed with Ferrari's idiotic plan. What we have, hell, what we've had since forever shouldn't have been used as a ploy between F1 teams. You have to believe me; I never faked my love for you. I- I-" Charles inhales sharply as memories from Japan flash across his mind. Max had been there for him. He should've known he'd be a lost cause by then.
"I love you more than anything. I never expected I could fall for someone this hard. I never imagined the one I'd disobey Ferrari for would be you. I can't do what they want from me anymore. I can't keep lying and distracting you because I'm in awe of you. I can't fake interest in you because you're the most interesting person I've ever met. I can't live without you, Max. You're the love of my life, and maybe it started with wrong intentions, but those intentions faltered the moment I got to know you."
Charles's breathing hard. His throat feels painfully tight. He needs to hear Max say it's okay while all of this is far from it.
"Max?" He whispers when it remains silent. Checking the phone, he notices Max has ended the call. Charles takes a deep breath, ready to scream out his frustration when a knock echoes through the room.
He debates ignoring the person, preferring the quiet the empty hotel room's giving him. The knocks become more frequent, though. With the adrenaline of the race and his confession still coursing through his veins, Charles rushes to the door before swinging it open.
His mouth drops open as he spots Max. The Red Bull driver is dressed up to go out. His dress shirt unbuttoned, cap on backwards, with a bottle of champagne in one hand and in the other his phone.
He looks amazing, and Charles wants nothing more than to pull him into the room and kiss him senseless. However, the tears forming in the corner of those ice blue eyes and his set jaw halt Charles in his movements.
"Max, I can-" Charles starts to say, but Max halts him by raising his hand, holding out his index finger. Charles is already prepared for a potential fist swing in his direction, but Max remains still, searching Charles's face for answers.
"I don't know what you were talking about, but fuck, Leclerc! You've got some explaining to do!" Max barges past Charles into his hotel room, throwing the bottle of champagne onto the bed. His hands clutch around his iPhone, and Charles's afraid he might break it.
"What the fuck were you talking about?" Max's voice is dangerously low. Charles closes the door behind him, locking it. No one else can interfere now.
"Max-"
YOU ARE READING
If Clarity's in Death, Then Why Won't This Die?
Romance"Max doesn't know what to say. His eyes draw over every inch of Charles's face. His green eyes with brown specks, the sweat dripping down his face, his lips curled in a small smile... "If only you saw yourself the way all of us do. The way I do." Ma...
