Chapter Text
The name Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc wraps itself all the way around Max’s wrist in a pretty scrawl.
It starts on top of his arm, a couple centimetres below the joint, and his soulmate’s middle names curve around his inner wrist, before ending up on the other side. When Max rests his hands palms down on the table he can read “Leclerc Charles,” a name he is very familiar with. A name he sees very frequently on the timing sheets.
His parents are fighting again, and if their story is anything to go by, he doesn’t want a soulmate.
Max pulls down the sleeve of his shirt, covering the name up.
There might have been a time—last week, before the name appeared on his skin—when Max still had hope for a soulmate. Maybe his parents were the exception to the rule, and he could find his soulmate and everything could be okay.
The ‘Leclerc Charles’ on his arms dashes any fleeting hope his twelve year old self was clinging onto.
Max and Charles already know each other, and have for years. Maybe for another pair that would have made everything easy, clean, neat, okay.
But Charles Leclerc hates Max Verstappen, and the feeling is mutual.
Charles has always loved the idea of soulmates. He hoped to one day find a storybook love like his parents had.
He waits with bated breath for his soulmark to appear. His parents tell him to be patient, not everybody gets it on their tenth birthday.
Charles is fourteen and getting out of his race suit when he spots something on his wrist.
He’s so annoyed that he doesn’t recognise it for what it is. He licks his thumb and starts to rub at the stain before he realises it’s text.
“Max Emilian Verstappen,” he reads. His thumb brushes over the name on his wrist, softly this time. “Max?”
Charles just ran his soulmate off the track and into a puddle after the finish line.
He throws on a shirt and rushes past his family to go find his soulmate.
Max.
Max Verstappen is his soulmate.
Charles is a mixed bag of feelings. On the one hand, he finally has his soulmark. Something he’s been waiting for for what seems like forever. On the other hand, he knows his soulmate already, and they might’ve messed everything up before they even got the chance to start.
His feet pound against the mud as he runs to where he knows Max’s kart is in the garage.
“Verstappen!” He’s breathless.
“Leclerc.”
Charles wonders if Max knows. His parents told him that they didn’t get their marks at the same time. “We need to talk.”
“Are you here to apologise?”
“What for?”
Max turns away from whatever he was doing to his kart and gives Charles an incredulous look. “For pushing me off the track.”
Charles had forgotten about that on his run over. “You pushed me.”
“You pushed me first!”
Charles bites his tongue. This isn’t what he came here for. “I am not sorry. We were racing. Things happen.”
The Dutchboy rolls his eyes and scoffs. “Well then you can leave.” Max turns back to his kart.
“We need to talk.”
“If you are not apologising then there is nothing to talk about.”
“Yes there is.” He thrusts his left arm forward. “We are soulmates.”
Max’s entire body snaps to Charles. His hand clamps down on the Monegasque’s wrist, covering his name. “Be quiet,” he hisses, his eyes darting around the garage. His grip tightens.
“Max, you are hurting me.”
He rips his hand away. “Cover that up,” he snaps, fingering the edge of his raincoat. Max beckons him into the shadows. “We cannot talk about this here.”
They end up behind the garage, metal sheeting against their backs as they stand next to each other in the rain.
Max pulls up his left sleeve. He fiddles with something on his wrist while Charles tries to come up with something to say.
“Here.”
There’s a friendship bracelet thrust in his direction, one made up of string and knots.
“Cover that up,” Max orders again, tugging his sleeve back down.
Not fast enough that Charles doesn’t see something on Max’s wrist, something that looks an awful lot like his handwriting.
He makes a pained sound.
He doesn’t mean too.
It’s just that he doesn’t want to cover up his soulmark. This is—This is what he’s been waiting for for years. And it’s Max. He knows Max.
Max looks ready to jump out of his skin.
He ties the bracelet around his wrist.
It’s orange.
Max’s shoulders lower a fraction once it’s secure. “This changes nothing. We are competitors. We will continue to be competitors. We will still race each other hard.”
Charles never wanted that to change anyways. “Of course.”
“Okay.”
They are both silent.
“Then we have nothing else to talk about.” Max pushes off the wall. “Have a nice drive home.” Max seems to be forcing the words from his mouth. “I will see you next race.”
“We are soulmates Max.”
“So? You just agreed that nothing changes.”
Charles feels something break and he doesn’t know what it is, but he knows exactly why: his soulmate doesn’t want anything to do with him.
Max is staring at him impassively. Max is staring through him impassively.
Charles thinks he’s about to cry. He’s just found his soulmate, and lost him just as fast.
There’s a thud, and Max is leaning against the wall again.
“Is it me?”
“No.”
Charles plays with the tails of the friendship bracelet, not picking at the knot he’s tied, but he already resents it. “How long have you known? When did you get your soulmark?”
“Two years?”
Charles thinks he whimpers. He thinks he sees Max wince. “Am I so bad?”
“It’s not you, Charles. I do not want a soulmate.”
“I do.”
“Then I am sorry.” He kicks at the mud. “Please keep that covered. I will get you a red one for next race.”
Charles hates this. But Max is his soulmate, and this is something Max wants. Charles’ soulmate wants him to ignore the fact that they are soulmates. “I will.” He dies inside. “And you don’t have to. This is fine.”
“It’s very Dutch.”
Oh.
Max is worried the orange will connect the two of them.
“If you have red it can be for Monaco, or maybe Ferrari. It’ll be more you.”
Oh.
Maybe it’s not that?
“I am not trying to be mean, Charles. I am not upset you are my… even though we hate each other.”
“I do not hate you. We are rivals and you are the worst. But I do not hate you.”
That seems to stun Max to silence. He looks at Charles for the first time since they were inside the garage. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh. Well, it’s not that. I would be like this with anyone you understand? I do not want a soulmate.”
“Okay.”
“And you want a soulmate. But you are stuck with me. So let me do something nice, and get you a red bracelet to cover up my name.”
Charles nods. He doesn’t feel like crying anymore. “I will not apologise for pushing you off the track.”
“Good.”