1. LANDO AND CHARLES
Lately, he'd felt like he was going crazy, and he didn't know why.
It was a feeling too vague to identify. Lando only knew he had a problem that was making him more restless than usual—not that he was usually calm, on the contrary—but he wasn't sure exactly what it was.
He did know, however, that it involved Charles: when he met him, his heart beat at crazy speed like in a race, and now that he was in the top class, it happened even more.
It was incredible to have gotten there with George and Alex, with whom he'd bonded so much during their last season together in F2.
Perhaps it was them, his dear childhood friends, who had given him the obsession with Charles.
The three of them had always been in the same categories since they were kids, almost inseparable, and he'd often seen them together in the races that F2 shared with F1, because Charles had arrived there the year before.
Lando had perhaps been influenced by the myth of this great friend and future champion everyone had been talking about since he was officially hired in F1 in 2017.
He'd never formed an opinion about him, but he'd been filled with curiosity by the epic and bombastic way everyone was talking about him.
Journalists painted romantic tales, talking about destiny because of his father, who had died the year before he arrived in F1, but above all because of Jules Bianchi, the mentor who had died on the track and who had somehow contributed to his career, which was finally taking off.
Lando had been impressed by all the stories circulating about him—some very fanciful and exaggerated, given that some even called him "the sad prince"—but naturally he had ended up becoming very curious about the myth of this boy everyone was talking about, but who didn't seem at all inclined to show off.
So, as soon as he arrived in F1 with George and Alex, happy to share his debut with two friends he knew, he'd magically and almost automatically found himself in their group of friends. A group that included, of course, the famous Charles.
That's where it all began.
After hearing every possible story about him, Lando had met him in person—he'd already briefly bumped into him a few times last season, as well as at the closing gala of the previous season, when they'd both been awarded, one for F2 and the other for rookie F1. But they'd never really met. They'd said hello, exchanged a few quick jokes, but after that, Charles had spent more time with George and Alex—who Charles jokingly called Albono.
On those occasions Lando was struck, because the impression he'd of him was that he was sad, despite smiling and joking with his two faithful friends. He'd perfectly understood the definition of "sad prince," but not so much the "predestined" with which many, especially the Italian media, called him.
So before becoming his colleague in F1 and having a better understanding of him, he'd asked George and Alex to tell him more about him.
Knowing his story had helped create this image of a sad hero with a sealed fate. As if success for him had come at a high price.
Even though Charles' first year in F1 had been subdued compared to the enormous expectations placed on him, the fact that he'd raced for an inferior team was not insignificant.
However, what had truly struck him was his signing with Ferrari in his second year. It made a significant contribution to Lando's vision of Charles, both epic and romantic. Like the protagonist of one of those dramatic films.
Perhaps it was a combination of things that had led him to form that mental image of him, and then seeing him in person in the Ferrari suit had struck him even more. The fascination had been overwhelming from the start, to the point of pushing him to become his friend at all costs.
He had exploited the common bond they shared with George and Alex, and everything had been easy, especially because he was good at connecting with others. He was naturally sociable and if he wanted to be friends with someone, there was no escape.
He had found no barriers in their friendship; it didn't seem like Charles was setting him aside because he hadn't met him at the same time as the other two. There was nothing wrong with their relationship, except the discordance of his lack of happiness in living an incredible experience as a Ferrari driver, partnered with a great like Sebastian Vettel.
For him everything seemed normal. It was as if it were only the beginning, with the hardest part coming now. In other words, Charles saw it as a duty and not as a dream coming true, to be enjoyed carefree and amazed.
He had a very different character from everyone else, especially from what he'd heard from George and Alex, who had always described him as a fun, carefree and sometimes spontaneously funny boy.
One of the things that had struck him was something Charles had said to his two faithful friends: - I got here before you only because of my history, and that's why I'm already at Ferrari. But I don't deserve more than you, on the contrary.
Lando had understood thanks to the explanations he'd received, but he still didn't agree. Sure if he'd been chosen, he deserved it, but beyond that he still had to enjoy every single moment because he was living a dream. It could end sooner than expected, as he claimed; it could go badly. Wasn't that all the more reason to enjoy it as much as possible while he could?
Yet he was always focused on some negative factor, as if it weren't possible to simply enjoy the moment or be happy with his various achievements.
Lando had never seen him truly enthusiastic, even though he'd seen him laugh and joke with them, as well as with his other friend from the track, Pierre Gasly.
He'd always been restrained in his social moments, as if he had the brakes constantly on.
As the days of 2019 passed by and Charles demonstrated his incredible skills at the wheel of Ferrari, immediately achieving incredible results—even if lacking a deserved victory—an even more captivating image of that handsome young man with elegant features began to emerge. Even elegant was an understatement.
Charles, in his eyes, was truly beautiful.
Lando had never really liked anyone in that way and couldn't quite distinguish his feelings, but Max came along to help him understand, indirectly.
Charles, George and Alex liked to hang out on race weekends; when they could, they'd sit down to joke, chat and drink; they often even ate together if they could. Lando, of course, was happy to join them, delighted to spend time with Charles.
One of those times, he had the unfortunate idea of inviting Max for that hour of freedom.
- Are you sure? - asked a hesitant Max that day.
Lando, who adored him because he was one of his idols from his days in the lower categories, not understanding why he shouldn't be, replied simply: - Yes, why?
Wasn't he their age, by the way? He seemed to remember that he also raced karts with the other three. It was strange, in fact, that he wasn't part of their group; clearly, he wasn't, but why?
Before he knew it, Charles stabbed him with ice blades instead of eyes, and it was clear to Lando that he'd made a mistake. But while Alex and George giggled, pretending to be doing it for other reasons, Charles still put on a brave face, not treating anyone badly, even though it was clear he wanted to.
He'd obviously made a mistake, but why? It was all done now and he could only hope he hadn't dug himself a grave with Charles, which was all that mattered to him anymore.
Once that disturbing meeting was over, where everyone had pretended to be friends without actually being—at least not with Max—Lando asked Alex and George for an explanation.
- What the fuck happened? Haven't you all known each other since you were kids? And aren't you almost teammates, you and him? Red Bull and Toro Rosso often do things together...
Alex replied, laughing.
- And haven't you wondered why I never let him join us?
- I did, and I didn't understand, but... oh! - and then he was suddenly struck by the memory he'd forgotten, because his brain was working too fast to allow him to process things and recall them at the right times. Only if he took the time to stop and think, did he remember them. But he had to stop, and Lando didn't do that often, being a hyperactive ADHD sufferer.
- Now do you remember? The tests at the beginning of the season, when we met with Charles for the first time this year… - Alex said indulgently.
Lando tried to recall the conversation the two had had with Charles during their first meeting of the season—mostly he struggled because he only remembered the impression he’d had on Charles that time, handsome and, above all, sad like a prince. The rest was confusing and superficial.
- You were talking about Max… - Lando couldn't remember in detail, only that Charles didn't like him.
George, sighing impatiently, explained further.
- Do you remember we asked him what it's like to be Verstappen's rival again? - Lando nodded as his memories became clearer.
- He’d said a perplexed 'huh.'
- He said he didn't think he'd grown or changed! - he finally remembered. Alex nodded more patiently than George.
- I asked because Max and I would be part of the same family, let's say, Red Bull, even if I was in the smaller team, Toro Rosso. Drivers often do events together, and it also happens that they swap drivers if Horner and company are dissatisfied with one of the two drivers.
As he spoke, Lando remembered better, even if he hadn't quite understood at the time, only that Max Verstappen wasn't looked upon favorably by them. That hadn't stopped him from bonding with him and finding him incredibly funny.
A fatal mistake, but only then did he understand how much.
- But what happened between Charles and Max?
- Nothing in particular, they just hate each other.
- Well, the famous story of the inchident from... what was it, a race in 2012 maybe?
- Yes, yes, the inchident!
- Inchident? - Lando stopped them, not understanding why they were pronouncing the word in such a funny and clearly consciously incorrect way.
The two then laughed, explaining the story. A racing incident that wasn't actually a racing incident because, after pushing each other throughout the entire kart race, Charles, after crossing the finish line, had once again pushed Max off the track, even though he had just won. Wrongly, according to Charles.
- So he was pissed off because Max stole the win, and he took revenge by pushing him after the finish line?
- And they were both penalized for it, they took the race win away from Max, and they were both disqualified.
- The really funny thing is that later, when they asked Charles what had happened, he candidly said 'nothing, just an inchident.'
- He said it exactly like that! So it went down in history both for his pronunciation and the nerve with which he said it. I mean, he did it on purpose, obviously!
- Damn, he's vindictive! - was Lando's only shocked comment. Seeing the two friends laughing, he didn't know whether to join them or feel terrible at the realization that he was foolishly digging his own grave with Charles.
He had now become friends with Max—plus, he had always liked him as a driver and now he found him hilarious, in short he was a good with him. This was a serious fault in Charles' eyes! How could he fix it? Was it too late? But too late for what? To please Charles in turn? He wouldn't start hating him because he was close to Max, would he? NO?
As the hypothesis dawned on him, the nature of his feelings for the sad, handsome prince became obvious to Lando. Sad, after all, was a false definition.
Charles was actually a demon! But where was he hiding that splendid, terrible side of his wonderful and not at all obvious character? Now he really wanted to discover and know everything about him. EVERYTHING!
Those extraordinary discoveries thrilled him, but despite everything, Lando began to die of terror at having ruined his relationship with him, and his nerves began to rise exponentially until they reached levels impossible to ignore.
Especially with the two most iconic races between Max and Charles that year: Spielberg and Silverstone.
Lando had by now realized that he liked Charles as a boy and not as a friend or driver—although he liked him in that sense too—but he was absolutely certain of it when the little devil, after Max's dirty move in Spielberg, responded with an identical one in the next race, at Silverstone.
At that point, while everyone was commenting in shock at the boy's nerve, from whom one could expect anything but a similar move, clearly a retaliation, Lando saw the bright neon sign saying how much he liked Charles.
“Fuck, he’s awesome! He's fucking awesome! He gave him back the dirty move that effectively took away his victory last time. And he did it openly and without disguise, candidly justifying himself by saying that now Max knows he isn't alone on the track! This... this is... that's wonderful! He has the face of an angel, the sad look and the temper of a devil! Now I understand why he doesn't get along with Max. He's a devil too, but in his case he blurts it out without filters and doesn't have the face of an angel at all!”
Obviously he went to watch the video Alex and George had talked about, and indeed the icy candor with which little Charles had commented 'Nothing, just an inchident' had been epic.
Over time, that look had become more refined. The look of someone who appeared completely different from what he was. Or rather, that hid unexpected character traits.
“I can't even imagine him openly arguing with anyone. If he has a problem with you, he'll bury you without even being seen or saying a word. He's awesome!”
Even though the adrenaline from the race had already subsided, after Lando saw the video Alex shared in the chat they had with Charles—along with the comment 'Will he ever stop teasing you?'—he became aroused in a way that made absolutely no sense.
It wasn't just his appearance that he liked, but above all his character and his mannerisms. That was what really turned him on.
When he saw the montage they'd already made of the race they'd just run, complete with a segment of the interview where Charles expressed with his famous icy candor that Max now knew he wasn't alone on the track, where he didn't even hide the fact that he'd returned the move on purpose to teach him a lesson, Lando burst out laughing, while instead his lower parts became hot and throbbing inappropriately.
'Sooner or later he'll understand that he shouldn't do certain things with me because I respond the same way!' was Charles' response.
At that point, precisely at that point, as he saw his fingers writing 'Charles, I love you, you're awesome!' in the chat, Lando realized that the way in which he had recently liked the predestinated wasn't just platonic but also sentimental and carnal.
It had been a moment, a clear flash. Something impossible not to understand because it was simply the truth.
And while everyone laughed, Charles included, he realized he was in trouble.
He understood it by reading the next exchange between the three of them.
'You know, right, that with this you just won Max over and that you've officially become his obsession?' George.
'Oh yes, yes, from now on you're his!' Alex.
'Don't talk bullshit, at most he's mine!' Charles, with Lando's suffocation.
'He's yours? Do you admit it?'
'I'm not admitting anything, I meant he's my obsession!'
'It's the same thing, you finally admit you hated him so much because you liked him?'
'Yes, like a kick in the balls!'
- Sour grapes, Charles! We've been telling you that forever! You'll see, in a few months, I'll give you a year at most, we'll be here and we'll be having this same conversation again and you'll say 'damn, you guys were right!' - at which point George had made an audio recording in a know-it-all tone.
'Change your dealer.' Charles' laconic response.
A seemingly joking exchange that ended with the denial of George and Alex's obvious and explicit allusion, to which Lando only contributed by laughing instead of adding his usual ravings to make matters worse.
Yet they knew it somehow had a grain of truth. In a way that was incomprehensible to everyone, but sacrosanct.
Lando laughed in the chat, as the erection that had suddenly come upon, revealing the kind of feelings he had for Charles, transformed into a grimace; as if something had first launched him to the stars, only to send him crashing back to the stables four seconds later.
And with that fake laugh on that pained expression, Lando realized, reliving for the umpteenth time in the space of a few months, that first part of the F1 season. That time with the right key.
A key he knew would never change.
It had always revolved around Charles and Max and their strange, tense relationship. He remembered all the constant innuendos from George and Alex, to which Charles had always responded jokingly, but never taken them seriously. Innuendos about that ‘sour grapes’ thing, and others like that.
Or jokes about what Max had dared to do to bother Charles so much, because if he had a sulk instead of his smooth expression, it was definitely Max's fault/credit. Or endless discussions about how bad Max drove, how annoying he was when he went on the track, or how much bullshit he said into the microphone.
It had always revolved around the two of them, but Lando had never been able to see it, too caught up in his friendship with Max—whom he had considered an idol since childhood even though they were only two years apart—and in that strange feeling toward Charles—who had transformed into a prince destined for greatness with sadness in his eyes, a person who had fascinated him for at least two years.
But now he saw it, especially because George and Alex had been explicit in their innuendos, which were no longer veiled.
And he saw perfectly well everything they saw, especially because, unlike them, he was also friends with Max—albeit secretly, so as not to jeopardize the friendship not so much of George and Alex, who he knew didn't care much for Max, but clearly Charles—and he knew he had the same obsession with the handsome, sad prince. A fixation that Max had always twisted ironically, since he constantly joked about everything to avoid revealing anything true about himself, and which was why he hadn't been able to see for what it was.
As the car took him home after the Silverstone race that had sparked so many revelations and storms and uproar, Lando also relived, with a pounding heart, Max's version of those months of friendship with him. Everything he'd said about Charles, the way he'd looked at him, all the mean words he'd said on him, fueling the obvious idea that the two truly hated each other.
“They're basically like kids who hate each other because they like each other and play pranks on each other to get attention. Except they're supposedly adults. Young, but adults. Definitely not kids.”
Realizing what their relationship really was, he called himself an idiot for not seeing it like George and Alex, who undoubtedly benefited from knowing them longer.
“It's a shame I became so attached to Max just to learn something about Charles from him, even though he's less close but still a 'longtime' acquaintance. It's also a shame that, having already liked them in the previous categories, I then became genuinely friends with them. And a shame that now I'm friends with both of them. But damn it, how much of a hopeless, mentally retarded idiot can I be? Is it possible that I mess things up first and then realize it too late, when they're unsolvable?
“Now that I know how I like Charles, and that he and Max like each other, and that it's only a matter of time before they get together, what do I do? If I weren't their friend, it would be easier; I could be a selfish asshole and try anyway, but I can't anymore. Especially because it's pointless since Charles likes Max.
“I'm a complete idiot. I delved into it until I completely lost my head over Charles, and now that I know it and am aware of it, what do I do with this shitty revelation? I'll hang myself, that's what I'll do!
“You're such an asshole, Lando Norris. Now that I understand that, I also have to find a way to forget him and change my focus, otherwise I know myself and I'll end up doing one of my usual bullshit things from which there's no turning back.
“A fallback, I need a fallback. Yes, yes, exactly that! I'm gay, I discovered I was by discovering how much I liked Charles. It's not a problem being gay because it's more problem that I like Charles. But being gay will be a help, the paddock is full of good-looking guys, there's at least one willing to make me forget him. I'm also good at socializing. I'll manage, right?”
While thinking about who could help him, making a list of all the colleagues and mechanics and various workers who hung around the paddock in general, Carlos, his teammate, wrote him a message.
Reading it, Lando first laughed—as he always did with him, given that he had that gift—then his face lit up, realizing who would truly be perfect.
He just had to figure out if he was available in that way. If he was, he would be perfect.