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They had been in each other’s lives since they were 7 years old, their friendship was like no other. It was Max and Charles, Charles and Max, wherever one went so did the other, but that all changed. A month ago a bad fight, a bad day, wrong things said. It played in Charles' head constantly.
“You keep acting like you worked so hard to get here. You didn’t. Jules is the only reason you’re sitting in that Ferrari. He was the one who convinced Vasseur to give you a chance. Without him, you would still be in a kart. You weren’t the best choice, you were the favor. You always will be.” His voice sounded so hateful and filled with venom.
The words hollowed out Charles’s mind, refusing to let go. They echoed through every quiet moment, louder than the roar of any engine. Every karting race, every championship, every sacrifice he’d made suddenly felt meaningless. Years of relentless work and pain had been reduced to a single sentence “You weren’t the best choice, you were the favor.” As if none of it had ever been enough. As if watching Jules crash from the grandstand wasn’t hard enough on him, his own boyfriend didn’t believe in him either. He doesn’t know which hurt worse being a favor or his own boyfriend not believing in him.
It wasn’t anger that settled in his chest, it was grief. The kind that left no remorse behind. He stopped trusting his own memories, wondering if every achievement had been built on someone’s favor to Vasseur, instead of his own ability.
In the end, the uncertainty had become unbearable. With a dry throat and a heart that already feared the answer, Charles found Fred. His voice barely rose above a whisper as he asked the one question he wished had never even crossed his mind.
“Was Max right?”
There was a suffocating silence and Charles knew the answer. He didn’t want to know the answer but the silence said it all. Charles ignored everyone, even Pierre.
The paddock had become tense and… careful
Not because of the racing tension, but because of the tension between them. Max and Charles had perfected pretending the other didn’t exist. Everyone was cautious to bring the other up in any conversation. Empty comments after one or the other had a good race.
When things got rough in Max’s head Charles was the cure. He wanted to take back what he said, he wanted to rewind, but he was too stubborn. Max had a lingering ache in his chest, so he worked harder blocking out the absence of Charles in his heart.
Everyone noticed. No one said anything.
Until Monaco.
Charles had been pushing… too much too fast.
Maybe because it was home. Maybe because he needed something to drown out the feeling that every time he looked across the paddock, Max was there. Always.
Sector one was purple.
Sector two was purple.
Then… Charles misses the apex, brakes stop working and Charles goes straight into the gravel. The car slammed against the wall, the car engulfing in flames. Max was right behind Charles and saw all of it.
The impact echoed through the city, the grandstands quiet, nobody moving. Silence.
Then the radio.
“…Charles? Charles, are you okay?”
Nothing.
Max’s heart stops and they call a red flag. Max drives the car back to the garage. He watches with a blank stare as they pull Charles out of the car, his body limp, and Max thinks about the last thing he said to Charles, his mind racing with endless possibilities. They rush Charles to the ER and Max asks GP
“What hospital?” Max’s voice is low and filled with panic.
“The one down the street” GP answers almost telling Max to stop, but Max was already gone.
Max runs out of the garage, racing suit still on, helmet still on, but he doesn’t care about any of that. He gets in his car practically racing to the hospital. Max rushes in and asks a nurse where Charles is, the nurse tells him and before she can say anything else he runs to his room. He sees Charles laying there with his foot in a boot, his arms and neck bandaged and Max immediately goes to the chair right next to him. He holds Charles’s hand carefully, letting the tears flow.
He hated himself for what he said. Max stays where he is watching doctors come in and out, but never lets go of Charles’ hand out of fear he might disappear, or never wake up. Max falls asleep and the next morning he wakes up to Charles looking down at him.
“Charlie” Max whispers his voice low and gravelly, so low to the point where Charles can barely hear it. Max doesn’t know when he started crying but Charles wiped his tears.
“Don’t cry Maxie” Charles said so softly speaking to him as if he said it any louder Max might break.
“I’m so sorry Charlie, so fucking sorry” Max lets out through sobs. Charles holds Max close. Max eventually stops crying and crawls into the hospital bed with Charles. Charles traced lazy circles over the back of Max’s hand, neither of them speaking for a long time. The steady beeping of the heart monitor filled the silence.
“I thought…” Max swallowed hard. “I thought I lost you.”
“You didn’t, you won’t… not for a long time.” Charles said into Max’s hair.
“Those could’ve been my last words, the last things I said to you. I would have never forgiven myself, and I still won’t be able to. I have missed you so much and it hurts every single day you’re not with me.” Max’s voice starts breaking again.
“I’ve missed you too. I can’t sleep when you’re not there, and I couldn’t think after that fight.” Charles whispered looking at Max with loving eyes.
“I love you Charlie forever and always.” Max whispered looking up.
Charles kisses Max’s forehead “I love you Maxie forever and always.”