13. EACH HIS OWN ROLES

/Charles/

“He caught me off guard and as soon as I recognized him I didn’t even think about it. It’s one of the rare times I acted on instinct and approached him and even ended up talking to him.
The other times I acted on instinct were when I kissed Pierre and I was both out of my mind, but I’m still excited.
This is my first race week as a future Ferrari purchase. I signed a few days ago and this is the first GP since signing and I feel electric. I know that tomorrow they will bombard me with compliments and questions about it and I’m very excited. Normally I’m used to taking everything calmly and containing myself, I rationalize everything to behave as I should and it’s always as if I have a patina that protects me from the world, preventing me from exaggerating or getting too caught up in the things that happen to me, but this Ferrari thing has given me an incredible jolt.
A huge boost of life.
I thought it was over with the kiss with Pierre two weeks ago, but now I realize that maybe the effect hasn't worn off yet and I wonder if it will stop or I just have to get used to being so excited, electric and... well, just full of life.
The first thing I thought when I approached Max was 'I wonder what he thinks? Will he compliment me?'
I don't know why I was so interested in seeing his reaction, but I rushed to him without really realizing it. Maybe I wanted to brag to him, gloat and let him know that now I too had arrived where he was. OK, I'm always a little behind because he's now used to Red Bull, both the environment and F1. I think I'll need a little, but I feel ready. I worked hard before arriving at this stage and I know I'm ready and I don't want to waste any more time.
The other times I met him I felt behind and inferior and I was irritated. I took it badly. I was living badly Max. Then I realized, at a certain point, I don't know when, that he actually had nothing to do with it.
I probably tolerate him because I've never really raced against him, but next year I plan to pick up that conversation we interrupted on the go-kart track, the one that really bothers me.
As soon as I looked at him carefully, however, I immediately noticed that he was gloomy and maybe even pissed off. He was alone and it's strange for anyone in foreign cities to go around alone; we’re drivers, some more famous and recognizable than others, and going around alone is also a risk sometimes. He didn't answer the question, neither if he was alone, nor the one about Daniel. He always deflected on me, so I think he's not well, they must have problems even if seeing how he ran away to see him maybe he doesn't have problems with him, but he probably had something to do with Daniel anyway.
Besides, I know that he’s having a hard time with him, you don't need to be close to know it because Max is an open book, he has always shown what he felt and often it was anger or frustration, but he has never held back or filtered. I do it too much, even if I'm not doing it well these days.
I hope to come to my senses.
I ended up going around alone with Pierre precisely because I wanted to see how it worked between us.
After that evening we never saw each other again and I was afraid that it could be strange and difficult. So we found ourselves here in Singapore deciding to go around together alone, I made up an excuse that it had to be just us and he accepted happily and willingly. The whole day was beautiful and fun even if perhaps it actually acted a bit like a date for a couple. I understand why Max thought that, but I wanted to be sure that with Pierre there were no problems and tensions, I couldn't stand it and I'm happy that it's not like that.
I know that this is our way of being together, there has never been any embarrassment or tension so I’m much more at peace.
It was strange to chat with Max, I approached him impulsively and then noticing his dark face I regretted thinking he wanted to be alone and that I had made a mistake. The idea of ​​bothering him, or worse being dumped by his typical rudeness, destabilized me, but I saw that as we talked he loosened up and seemed to be better. I was pleased, in the end, with that exchange and he even seemed really happy for me.
It was what I wanted to see.
His eyes while I told him. His face. Or rather while we talked about it, because he knew it from the world that has been talking about it for days.
It was damn satisfying and even if I thought I wanted his envy or irritation or something like that, exactly what I felt when I found out he was in Red Bull so soon, in the end I was pleased to see that he was happy for me.
He also gave me that extremely outspoken and uninhibited advice.
Angel face that hides a demon character, no wait, what exactly did he say? Anyway, that was the point.
I have to do in Ferrari what I did with him in go-karts. Bring out my character, the real demon one that is underneath the fake angel one.
Yes, I think he said that, exactly.
I still shake my head, giggling as I think about it.
I think that apart from Pierre who knows a version of me known only to him - I mean, I don't stick my tongue in everyone's mouth just because I'm excited, it's a given that he's special - I think Max is perhaps the one who knows me the most deeply from a certain point of view, even if it surprises me to say it, it affects me. But it's true. Max knows a part of me that perhaps no one has seen. The competitive one. The truly competitive one and maybe even a little mean. Like a demon, as he says. He's the only one who has seen it and realized it's there.
On the track, no one has seen anything yet, even though I’m very combative and focused on driving and winning, although without the right car it’s difficult. But what I do when I get in the car is aim for the best performance and in my head there is the top of the line. Victory. Always. Even with the car with which at best I can get into the points zone.
But no one has seen the real competitive Charles. Only Max.
I chuckle again at his comparison with the devil.
- So, what are you laughing at? - Pierre blurts out at the umpteenth idiotic laugh I give thinking about him. I shake my head and strangely decide to keep this to myself.
I have told him everything in my life. Even about Max and Daniel, I thought it was the case that he knew that his new future teammate is with one of our colleagues. But I’m keeping this conversation to myself, even if I don't know why.
Max and I have always been on the verge of killing each other and the best we have gotten from each other has been a cautious tolerance, but today there was something else that I liked and that struck me. Something that perhaps will never happen again because we will surely go back to wheel to wheel starting next year, so we’ll go back to hating each other as always.
At this thought I still smile like an idiot and Pierre pushes me making me almost fall, his voice drills into my brain and I’m also happy that everything is okay between us and that there is no anxiety left.
I wouldn't have been able to bear a change in the relationship between us. I need what I have with Pierre and surely starting next year I’ll also need my usual good old psychopathic rival to hate and try to overcome in order to do my best.
Each one has his own roles. Definitely.
However, it’s a pity that in the end he moved away from us to be alone with Daniel. Well, it's not a shame that everything is going well with him, I don't have any particular opinions on that, but it's a shame that they didn't come to dinner with us. A foursome would have been fun, but maybe embarrassing for some reason that I don't quite understand and I can't grasp the thought thanks to Pierre who screams with a high pitch that I recognize perfectly; while he does it, he crushes my arm that almost breaks me.
This is the Lewis scream. When he sees Lewis he does this, so I stop, otherwise it would be difficult since he pulls me and takes my arm off, and I look for our colleague aware that if Pierre is standing here like an idiot in a mystical crisis it's only because he saw his idol. He's not helping me in the slightest, since he's here and continues to make hysterical little screams, but luckily I see him too.
Or rather I see THEM.
As soon as I focus on them, I instinctively move pulling Pierre along with me, still clinging to my arm. Luckily, I have a certain amount of alertness and I manage to hide in time behind the corner of a building we were walking past after leaving the park.
Pierre doesn't understand a thing and doesn't know why I'm hiding, but he doesn't even ask me in the condition he's in.
I lean out cautiously, keeping him pressed against the wall, as if I wanted kiss him again.
I hold my breath and glance at what I saw. Oh no, I didn't dream it.
It's really the two of them!
- It's Lewis and Seb!
But as soon as I say it, I just have time to put my hand over Pierre's mouth to prevent him from screaming louder and maybe even their names.
Seeing them together would be too much for him.
He tries to wriggle free but I use more force to him to stay hidden and quiet, while I do I shake my head sternly.
- No, we're not going to break their balls because it seems like a similar exit to Max and Daniel's!
It takes Pierre at least 45 full seconds to understand what I mean and as soon as his little blue eyes light up, I nod with my admonishing and mischievous at the same time, a mode that I never thought I would have.
You see the Ferrari that still has an effect on me making me feel alive.
It's nice, even if maybe all the expressions I make I only delude myself that they reach the eyes and that they’re true and deep. Maybe they don't get there yet, but I feel good enough, tonight, and I don't want to think about anything else.
- I don't know if they're together, but it seems like they don't want any bother.
I lean out again and Pierre forcefully slips between me and the wall that hides us, he emerges remaining with my hand on his mouth and in this way we look like the ambushed couple.
They’re walking in a minor and less crowded street, as much as possible, they’re talking together and are dressed informally. They look like two ordinary tourists, Seb covers his blond hair with a funny fisherman's hat that only he could wear, Lewis doesn't stand out that much among the locals.
They talk together and smile with a sweetness and cheerfulness visibly different from that which they reserve for anyone else. We remain like this to spy on them without wanting to and then when Seb says something false that offends Lewis who pouted childishly, the other one to gain forgiveness puts an arm around his neck, forcing him to himself. At this Seb gives him an exuberant and tender kiss on the cheek that leaves me speechless.
I'm still holding my hand on Pierre's mouth, but he doesn't even try to remove it. However I feel my palm wet. When I realize that it's not his saliva but his wet cheeks, I straighten up, I straighten him up too and finally I remove my hand to look at him shocked.
- Are you crying?
Pierre is in a sea of ​​tears of joy, in a total crisis more than before, and he nods squeaking again, but this time slowly fortunately.
- They’re beautiful! They’re together!
I don't know whether to laugh or agree with him, then my rational part tries to take over automatically.
- They could also just be very good friends... - I calmly point out.
- And why did he kiss him? - Pierre insists confidently.
- It was on the cheek... - I say again more out of sadism than real conviction.
- Come on, kiss me on the cheek? - but he's starting more than ever to take the reason and leans with his cheek towards my mouth, we almost collide and I just have time to divert laughing.
- I kissed you on the mouth, what are you saying... - I remind him, putting him back in his place with a hand on his face that brings him back to leaning against the wall. We're still like two flirting boyfriends anyway.
I say this without much thought, but it seems that Pierre only now remembers it and suddenly stops babbling. I don't know how to interpret his forgetting our two kisses, but maybe he's not wrong in thinking that Seb and Lewis's kiss on the cheek wasn't something for simple friends, as much as I am in thinking it was.
Suddenly I realize not only this, but also the two of us. At this point, am I the one who hasn't understood anything about our relationship?
While I'm wondering, Pierre starts talking about the two of them and his theory that he puts together in two seconds as if he hadn't thought about it for months. And maybe that's how it’s if it weren't for the fact that I know him and I know that if he had thought about similar things, he would have told me about it much earlier, boring me.
In an instant we start walking in a different direction from theirs so as not to risk embarrassing them and in the meantime, the whole time, the whole evening, he talks. He talks about them. About how much he adores them separately and how good they are together.
He tells a movie story according to which in Baku last year the two of them argued about that thing on the track, because Seb is impulsive and when he gets fired up he exaggerates, and then from there according to him they risked breaking up permanently, instead it’s precisely from that that they must have not only made peace, but also strengthened their bond. According to him, in fact, they must have understood what they really felt for each other on that occasion and so here we are this year with them being together for real and being beautiful and so on.
The whole evening was about them. And I, absurdly, as much as I was initially amused, let my brain wander to Max and Daniel wondering how they will be now that they’re in this delicate phase of their relationship.
Who knows if they’ll last when they’re in different teams? Max is special, I don't think it’s easy to be with him. He reacted very badly to the news about Daniel, I think he’s making his life difficult. He had such an expression before...
- Are you listening to me? - Pierre's high-pitched voice comes back to drill into my brain and take me back to the colorful world of Seb and Lewis and their extraordinary love that conquers all.
Of course, F1 is really different from what I expected. Different and definitely interesting.
- And next year you will be Seb's partner! - Pierre suddenly emphasizes while in the meantime we have also decided what to eat and we have consumed in his delirious drama.
- I will not spy on them! - I'll be right there to the point knowing what he thinks. Because I know my crazy boy!
- Why not? Of course you will! For me! - and in fact there he is!
- You're dreaming about it! I'll mind my own business! I want to focus only on racing! - I firmly maintain, crossing my arms and looking to the side so as not to be diverted by his madness.
- But no one focuses only on racing! - he retorts, banging his hands on the table and leaning towards me.
- And I noticed! But I'm different! - but I continue to pretend to ignore him even if of course it's impossible given how much he knows how to make himself heard. In short, his voice is not exactly low and delicate and every time he speaks he claps his hands to get my attention.
- And I see it... you stick your tongue in my mouth only if you are extremely sad or extremely happy! - and in fact his voice which is never low makes me turn to look at him again with haunted eyes, blushing in amazement at his outburst.
- And what is this supposed to mean? That you want my tongue back in your mouth? - I provoke him purely out of reaction, not because I really want to provoke him. Maybe I want to understand what he really thinks, because it seems to me that he’s trying to hide something from me but since he isn’t good at it, the result is that in the end in one way or another I find out anyway.
- Who, me? And why? - however his answer seems spontaneous, like someone who doesn’t understand why I say certain things and makes me feel like an idiot.
- But if you said... - and I hate feeling like an idiot.
- Oh yes, but it was just saying... that you’re different from the others because you only go out of line if you’re strongly involved in something... - now I'm going to kill him. Pierre has even straightened up happy that I’m looking at him now, he thinks he has won the conversation. Poor deluded person, I never lose!
- And you on the other hand always go out of line even without serious reasons! - I won't let you have the last word, my dear! With that I lean towards him, banging my hands on the table like he did before.
- But I'm not sticking my tongue in your mouth! - he retorts again, pointing his victorious finger at me, convinced he's found the perfect closing line.
- Listen, stop it! You could have said that it bothered you! - I'm really going to kill him because it's not just winning a delirious useless conversation without meaning, here he’s between the lines and totally involuntarily telling me something he doesn't want to. I know that these kisses have touched him more than he wants to admit.
- And who said it bothered me? I find this bizarre appearance of yours extremely funny! That's all! - and that's how he finally turns me off. Damn you. My brain is going haywire and I don't even know what to think, let alone what to say. Bizarre appearance what? How dare he? I'm not a mascot!
- Fuck you! - I grunt offended, even if not seriously.
- I wish! - and nothing, I think he had the last word this time. But it's only this time, because I'm afraid that if I continued I'd end up saying something too much and I haven't thought it through enough to be able to control the conversation about it.
We decide to go back to the hotel by calling a taxi, heading to one of their stations to make it easier for them to 'pick us up', in the meantime Pierre goes back to talking about Seb and Lewis and I laugh and nod without being very involved and maybe not even very convincing, but I think that by now he's used to this my frosted mode. With Ferrari I had been more enthusiastic and lively, but maybe deep down I always had this patina. From the inside I don't know, I can't judge myself and I don't really care. It's not that I care about appearing a certain way, I just want to be left alone and if I point out something particular about myself, maybe out of line, then I get harassed and I don't want to end up in the spotlight for the wrong things, certainly not private and personal ones.
I'm not even someone who wants to win for the limelight and to be admired. I want to win because it's the only thing that matters to me.
But in this, perhaps the only one who understands me is Max, paradoxically.
My thoughts go back to him inadvertently and while it does, the kiss to Pierre comes back with a strange flash. When I'm excited or particularly shaken I lose control and seek intimate contact that in normal conditions I would never do, but luckily in those cases I was always with Pierre with whom I'm fine doing anything. But suppose that one of these times I was in the company of Max.
What would I do in that case?
Would I end up kissing him too?
The question remains unanswered in my mind until it ends up in a corner of my soul, one day maybe I'll be able to answer it, who knows. In the meantime, I have to concentrate better on the races. The others can waste time with hidden stories and various entertainments, but for me there's only one thing that matters at the moment.
Running and winning. I'm just a driver now, that's the only role in my life right now.

It's only because I shut up his big mouth that he hasn't shut up for a second, if we can keep the whole hotel from hearing us. Otherwise everyone would know we’ve come back.
There are no problems, in reality. We’re adults and there are no vetoes, especially on Wednesdays, but more than anything it’s not a good idea to wake up those who’re already quiet in their rooms. We’re all here to do the same thing. F1.
Even if maybe when we leave the cockpit in extraordinary silence, it doesn’t mean that everyone is already asleep.
Surely someone isn’t. Someone who is currently talking in the corridor, probably arrived a few seconds before us with the other elevator.
I slow down instinctively, recognizing the voices. Or rather. The voice.
Low, hoarse and scratchy. So particular. So sexy in its own way.
Charles, have you been drinking? No, I don’t think so. It was water, right?
I’ve been with Pierre too much, his madness infects me after a while, at least in my brain. Or somewhere else.
I'd better send him to his room right away, he wanted to come to me to look at something but I'm still under the influence of the Ferrari signature I recently made, which combined with Pierre's I think is dangerous.
In front of us Max and Daniel walk towards their rooms, the distance indicates that they got out of the elevator next to ours just before us and the dimly lit corridors don't allow a perfect view, but it's enough to understand that Max has a gloomy expression and is tense again, in addition his dry and polemical tone of voice confirms to me that he's got something.
They haven't noticed us because no matter what they say, they’re absorbed in their not very calm conversation. Seeing Daniel serious is rare and it has a certain effect on me and even Pierre understands that it's a delicate situation. We slow down so as not to disturb them and not listen to them involuntarily. The last thing I want is to go back into that state of tension with Max. He and I are always on that edge, it only takes half a wrong step to end up in it and I don't want to, it's not one of the things I like to do, arguing with him.
The memory of before, when I met him, comes back in a very quick flash and shows me him smiling at me and speaking with a certain cheerfulness. I had found him with that very dark expression that I glimpse now.
So I was right. They have problems. I think that in the end it’s inevitable if someone lives badly and personally something that in reality is not. I understand Daniel perfectly and I support him, even if I were him I would leave because my career is in danger, I wouldn’t hesitate in front of anything. I don’t understand Max's crusade and why he should take it badly. They’ll not break up.
But then how do I know? He has not talked with me and I doubt he ever will.
Whatever they say to each other, we’ll never know how it ended because we have arrived at Pierre's room where I push him badly, he’s about to complain and tell me what happened to the film, but I dismiss him with unequivocal gestures to shut up and go to sleep and in the end he does it, huffing.
I don't know if he's disappointed, I was focused on not being noticed by the two of them who are now almost at the end of the corridor from us, still intent on arguing.
I'm about to reach my room when I drop the magnetic key with the steel tag with my room number attached. I curse through gritted teeth, but the noise has now reached them and so I turn around and smile at them tensely and formally if not downright embarrassed.
They look at me from a few meters away, still and surprised at not having noticed me.
I made a sign and nervously try to open the room, but only when it doesn't BEEP do I realize that something is wrong. For a moment I think it's demagnetized and I curse this time out loud. I don't want to be the third wheel. It's fucking embarrassing. I should have slipped into Pierre's room, I don't know why I didn't do it, I didn't even think about it, but maybe I was afraid I was still under strange effects not brought on by alcohol but by things that make me act strangely.
While I insist with this damned fucking key that just doesn't want to know about opening, Daniel ends the conversation with an extraordinarily nervous: - Okay, we'll talk about it tomorrow, sleep on it and you'll see that I'm right! - which certainly doesn't convince Max. Not because he says anything, I simply know him.
I hear a door open and then close immediately and I take a breath of relief that makes me calm down briefly, thinking that they went to the room.
However, the break from anxiety is short because the next moment I feel someone approaching from their direction and when I look up, my heart starts galloping again.
Max is already with me. Fast, direct and expeditious.
He's pissed off and maybe he's pissed off with me since he comes close almost touching me. He would do it if it weren't for the fact that I raise my shoulder and my arm ready to push him away by reflex, to put the distance that he wanted to eliminate for mysterious reasons.
I look at him surprised and incredulous, he reciprocates irritably. Irritated is an understatement. We’re in the dark and I can't see each other well, but his face is still extremely expressive.
- Well? - I always ask with my heart in my throat. I hope I'm better than him at controlling my face, I don't want to look like a pathetic idiot.
- Well, you! Why the hell are you trying to get into my room with your key?
When he says that, my eyes widen, the world around me stops as well as the one inside me, in other words my heartbeats suddenly slow down along with my anxious breathing, I lower my head and the arm I was using to push him away, I look at the tag and read the number. Then I raise my head and look at the number on the door. It's different.
My eyes widen even more as I literally feel like dying at the colossal figure of shit I made right in front of him.
But his? Couldn't I have confused my room with someone else's?
Am I an idiot? Yes I am, but it bothers me that he’s the one who finds out! Damn!
- Shit! - I say in French in a completely spontaneous way. As soon as I say it I clearly feel Max relax and laugh. Suddenly it is as if I had pressed a switch to change the mode from pissed off to... I look at him in amazement to understand what has gotten into him and I can see well enough at this proximity of less than half a meter. I see amusement and malice.
Malice? Yes, yes, malice!
But why? I may have amused him for the idiotic mistake, but what does this malice have to do with it?
- I didn't want to, I didn't realize... - it's obvious that I didn't do it on purpose, but something was triggered when I said 'shit'. Then I remember how pissed off he was a moment ago. - And I didn't even want to hear you. In reality I didn't understand anything, only that you were arguing. I'm sorry, before you were happy to disappear with him and instead...
And instead I turned into Pierre who babbles when he's tense and embarrassed, I don't know why the hell I'm still under this effect, but it's definitely still the Ferrari euphoria.
When will that damn spell pass? I hate to seem stupid!
Max raises his eyebrows skeptically. We're too close not to see our expressions and understand them.
He knows I'm in a drama. He knows for sure.
What he thinks? Oh well, but why am I asking? He'll surely tell me right away.
- You're funnier and weirder than you normally seem! - and there he is. I blush but at least I know he can't see that. It's too dark to notice the shades of my cheeks.
- W-why? - I ask stammering like an idiot. But he can feel that, stupid stammering Charles!
Max shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders pretending not to care, when he does I know he's back to the sentence from before, when I told him I didn't want to spy on them.
And yet I don't think he's really uninterested in the matter, rather I think it's just a way to defend himself from who knows what.
It's a very brief moment, but I understand him so well that I'm surprised and I remain stunned listening to him, standing still where I am.
- It doesn't matter. Anyway, it seems like you have an enormous talent for catching us when we argue.
On that I totally agree with him, but what I wonder is why I stay stuck here and don't move? Maybe because I think about before, when I asked myself what I would have done if I had found myself in Max's company during one of those times when I'm out of my mind or high. Could it be one of those moments? Am I still too high?”