20. AWARENESS

/Max/

“Since I started in F1 I had the feeling that every season was a preparation for when it would really start. When I finished last year I had a different feeling, about 2019 that was about to start. As if the preparation was finally over.
The real competition started this year, for me, but there is a reason for that.
My rival is finally ready to resume our conversation.
Mister ‘just an inchident’ is in Ferrari, he has a competitive enough car and he'll finally be around to piss me off and I can’t think of anything that I enjoy more.
How much the hell had I waited for his arrival? I didn’t realize, when he arrived last year I was happy, but it’s now that I know what it is. It’s now that I understand what I was waiting for.
The competition.
For me, racing is beautiful because it’s competition, but the only one that I have ever considered truly worthy is the one with Charles because he has always been my only true rival, all my life I have had no others and now here in F1 of course I have had plenty of them, but for me now he’s the one, he’s the only one, he has always been my true rival. The others are secondary, substitutes.
I know it’s him.
This year we start, maybe it won't always be a battle between us, maybe sometimes we won't even cross paths. Ferrari doesn't hang around well, just like Red Bull, but we’re more or less always there both, ready if there’s an opportunity and pushing to find it.
Now that he’s in that car for me F1 is painted red, a bright red, a beautiful bright red that animates me to the core.
It was fucking nice to remind him that I was the strongest and that I still am, but I know that he thinks that these are ephemeral and unrealistic victories. He doesn't need to talk to me, I know well what he thinks.
I watch him from afar while Seb congratulates him on his first excellent race, coming fifth is not bad, it was in the top 4/5 positions all the time, following my ass like an annoying fly, but I didn't expect anything different.
The best thing was the start.
I had nothing else in mind, I knew I had to focus completely on him who was practically next to me and so it was, he immediately tried to overtake me and almost succeeded, he was very close, but when he was about to pass me I overtook him and it was fucking exhilarating. I had to put in all my ferocity being careful not to make mistakes because I know he doesn't move if we’re in the same space. The others with me tend to be careful and let up a bit, it's something I know I take advantage of to overtake, but I also know that with him he never attacked. It was a damn beautiful start and I know it wasn't my best ever, we were fourth and fifth, but it's the one I liked the most because it was with him.
I couldn't wait to have him wheel to wheel and pick up where we left off and show him that I've gotten better in the meantime.
I knew very well that he would never give up. During the whole race he was there chasing me as long as he could and I knew I had to aim for Seb who was in front of me, another one who is never easy to fight with, but I was aware that I had to do it to at least reach the podium. However, having him always behind me, I couldn't get distracted because I knew he would never give up. There are drivers and drivers.
Some race with you and if you overtake them they try to catch you immediately but if they don't succeed they accept it and think about their race, about not being overtaken by others, about doing everything well and maybe they hope for another opportunity.
But I know him and I know well how he is, dear Charles.
He was really pissed off that I overtook him at the beginning and then wasn't able to catch me.
Then when I overtook Seb who got between us, there was no more competition and paradoxically my race it became normal, even though I always had to give my all to avoid being caught.
It was beautiful, it was so beautiful that it turned on the fucking light that made me understand what it was all about.
That feeling at the end of the season was him.
Now that Charles’ in Ferrari I knew we would start again with our exciting speeches and he hasn't disappointed me, even though I know it’ll be even better. That he just has to get used to the car, the team and the races that are done from the front, which are different from those done with other cars, other teams and from behind.
So if he's already so good at the first race with a similar car, I know perfectly well that he’ll be even better and I'll be ready to show him that I've improved too.
It's fucking beautiful, it was what I was waiting for when I first arrived in F1 and maybe even since we left each other in go-karting.
I was waiting for him, my only true rival ever. Everyone has one, their own nemesis that makes life more interesting. Mine is him.
I'll wait for you in Bahrain, Charles.
At the same time I rush to Daniel and force him to let me console him for his shitty race.
I don't know if he did the right thing by leaving Red Bull where it was shit for him and going to Renault where it's still shit, at least here we were together. In the same team you have a lot of things that you do together with your colleague, especially on Thursdays. You can also travel together, often. We always did it, it was beautiful.
Wasn't it worth it?
I understand that you’re a driver, first of all, but it's not like he left for a better place where he has more satisfaction. I hope for him that it's only the first race and that I'm wrong, but I really think it won't be like that. That he's thrown himself out of the frying pan into the fire.
However, with my typical arrogance I jump on him and pull him into the first available place, before allowing him to disappear on his own.
It's not true that it was the same for us and that nothing changed.
It changes, it changes a lot. Even if thinking back to Seb and Lewis, assuming it's true that they’re a couple and that I didn't actually just have visions, they don't seem to suffer from being in different teams.
Does the team separation really change or is it just an excuse I'm making?
Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I got excited after the race and thinking about Charles specifically.
While Daniel bangs me from behind with little desire and still depressed and annoyed, I feel like shit getting hot once again thinking about the other.
Another one who doesn't look at me in that way or who doesn't want to, with whom nothing will ever happen due to his stubbornness and stupidity. But being stupid and stubborn apparently doesn't turn me off, especially if you give me a hard time during the race.
On this I come without understanding what point Daniel is at, nor if in the end he’ll manage to have his orgasm too. I'm sorry, Dany.
I'm hurting you without you knowing it. I'm shit, I'm really shit. How is this possible? How did we get to this point?
When Daniel curses and gives up, he goes out and composes himself by hitting his palm against the wall I was leaning on. He couldn't come and decided to put an end to his 'torture'. I had come anyway.
I turn around, quickly getting dressed and try to stop him from leaving, he diverts my gaze full of anger and shame that I understand, he unhooks my arm and shakes his head.
- Let it go, that's how it goes for today. It's okay. I just need a little...
Because it's not going the way he thought, he made a difficult choice for himself and he's already going to shit. Unfortunately I can't do anything for him except sigh and let him go while my hormones leave me more at peace. I'm a shitty boyfriend.

In Bahrain, to be honest, I'm not surprised by Charles' pole, his first in F1 and in Ferrari, which is in his second race this year.
It's crazy in itself, but I knew it would happen because he's damn ready, much more ready than I was when I arrived in F1 and then in Red Bull.
It took me a long time to get used to it and perfect myself, he took practically anything.
He's already made the Pole. At the moment Ferrari is going strong, but it's not the car that will win the world championship, everyone knows that it’ll be Mercedes once again, no one expects Ferrari to stay this good for long, but he and Seb have made it to the front row and for the moment it means that the car works at least on the flying lap. That's not what's surprising, but that the best of the two was the latest arrival, Charles, and not the more experienced, world champion, Seb.
Even though it was a small gap, it's really surprising. Not only that, but that he's actually in his second year here in F1.
He's ready, damn if he's ready.
He's always had a different approach to racing than me, but mine was decided by my father, I've never had a say in the matter. His has decided for something more gradual that would allow him to be ready once he arrives.
In fact, if I hadn't had Marko Helmut, they would have dumped me a long time ago, but thanks to his protection I kept my place even though I wasn't doing well at the beginning and now I have to prove that they weren't wrong to believe in me.
I know perfectly well what I have to do and what my situation is, but Charles with his Pole ends up distracting me.
I try to understand while he takes the usual photos and interviews with the other two classified, Seb and Lewis, if he’s happy. They talk about records. The youngest driver to get a pole in Ferrari and the second overall in F1, the first by the way was Seb. I don't know these things because I'm the one who knows them, but the others around are repeating them like a machine gun because the result is remarkable.
Charles as always is there looking like a fish out of water and at first he doesn't even pretend to smile. I don't know if in his head he thinks he does and in reality he doesn’t but doesn't realize it, or if he has simply given up.
I get lost staring at him while they get together for the photos and just when Seb speaks to him and proudly hugs him with an arm around his shoulders super happy, he finally does it.
I’m struck by the smile, it’s almost perfect and it’s incredible.
For a moment I envy Seb, I have an envy impossible to explain, but it’s clear. It’s not for his pole, and not even because he’s there in the middle of the two best drivers of our years that I absolutely want to overtake. It’s a specific envy aimed at Seb.
Because he made him smile. It’s a decent smile, very nice, actually.
Not his best, but it’s as if he finally woke him up from his sleep and made him understand that he achieved an extraordinary result and that he should be happy about it.
For a moment I remember his smile from the karting days. It was a beautiful smile, far from this, but I don’t know if it will return.
Disturbed by how much I think of him and his smile, or rather by how much I’m really fixated on it, I move on recalled to my duties after having been dazed. Charles is handsome, there is no doubt about it, I have been thinking so for a long time now and I’m aware of it. Moreover, that demon character under the angelic appearance excites me a lot. But perhaps the most is his refusal without even saying it. His ignoring me, for me, is like a red rag in front of the bull and the more things with Daniel cool down, the more they heat up in my imagination with him. That is what is holding me back.
It’s only my imagination.
Tonight I’ll try to pamper Daniel properly, last time it went badly and this week he was nervous even if he tried as always to hide it with his smile, but even if he pretends that everything is fine, I know that it’s not like that.

My father is the one who ruins my plans, just after finishing the usual final meeting on Saturday, the one where all the strategies for tomorrow's race are established and where problems, data and solutions are discussed, the phone rings and when I see his name I roll my eyes and curse openly.
Pierre, who is next to me, can't help but hear me and looking, he surely sees that it’s a call from my father.
I’ll have to explain something to him, if he wants to survive next to me.
However I leave the meeting room going directly to the Paddock which is quite crowded at the moment, because many of us are finishing the last things and are leaving. Before going to my room to collect my things and go to the hotel to Daniel, I’m out here with the sun at sunset which makes everything more suggestive. Or it would if I was in the mood to admire it, but when am I ever in the mood when my father calls me?
I don't know who’s around me, who’s listening and what’s happening.
As soon as I hear his voice, everything disappears and the nerves increase as usual.
My face hardens, I feel my facial muscles tense, my mouth is bent downwards and hard and opens only to talk to him and it's like they're pulling out my teeth in cold blood.
- Congratulations! - he begins like this, ironically. I roll my eyes.
- Oh well, it's just a qualifying session, the race is tomorrow! - I try to answer him, trying not to be irritated or argumentative because I know it's worse.
- And what's the point of racing tomorrow if you got an anonymous fifth place in qualifying? You're always there, huh? But does it seem good to you? You know that Red Bull is banking on you, do you think Marko will protect you forever even if you continue not to deliver results?
He doesn't hold back, I was expecting this speech last time but he must have thought it was the first race. What clemency. Last time I made the podium anyway, but he's referring to my qualifying sessions. That's where you're part of the race.
I hit the outside wall I was standing next to.
- What can I do? I'll get the most out of the car, if it's not yet at the level of Ferrari and Mercedes I can't work miracles!
I sounded argumentative and he was just waiting for it. His voice rises and I think that if there’s someone nearby who understands Dutch, he could hear us but I don't give a damn.
If he was here he would punch me in the head. Even if I'm an adult, he would do it anyway.
- Leclerc made the Pole and it's his second race with Ferrari. He arrived there last year, in F1. You know that there is time to settle in and then Ferrari is not Mercedes. It should be on the same level as Red Bull, right? But he made the pole. Charles Leclerc, Max. You remember who he is, right? Your worst karting nightmare. You think you can show him that many more years than him in F1 have been thrown in the shit? When the car is not enough it’s always the driver who makes the difference. How many times have I told you that you can't rely only on the car? It’s you who must show that you deserve more than anyone else. For now you’re not proving it!
I don't comment on Pierre's thirteenth position because he would reply that it's normal for new arrivals to take a while to get used to new cars, especially if they're so different from the previous ones. Furthermore he's been in F1 since last year too. He has excuses.
The fact that Charles, who has these very excuses, is in Pole, drives him more crazy than it drives me.
I was stupidly happy.
But maybe I needed this, right? His usual bad kick in the ass to remind me how to win, what I was born for and what the hell I'm doing on a fucking circuit instead of at home doing something else.
- You're right, I have to wake up or he'll leave me behind. I'm ready, everyone knows I am.
- And you Max? Do you know you're ready? - he asks me arrogantly and provocatively.
With his same hardness that masks a lump in my throat that is closing my airways and making me gasp for air, I answer raising my head. I stare at the paddock, at the people still moving transparently, I pass through them as if there were no motorhomes, garages and people in front of me.
- Yes, I am.
- We'll see.
When he says that, he ends the conversation and I roll my eyes and curse in Dutch through gritted teeth, then I turn to kick the steel wall that surrounds the entrance to the motorhome and I stop because right there in the doorway is Pierre looking sorry. So clear and crystalline, like me you can immediately understand what he thinks.
He heard and understood, as much as possible since we were speaking in our language.
But I think it doesn't take much to understand that I was arguing.
- I didn't want to hear, I'm sorry. I wanted to go out but I could hear you talking right in front and I didn't want to go through, but... sorry, in the end I only understood that you were arguing with your father. I don't understand Dutch.
For someone who’s embarrassed and mortified, he talks too much instead of running away like everyone else would. I know what my face looks like when I talk to him.
Scary.
I shake my head and shrug my shoulders pretending I don't give a shit.
- It's okay, it's always like this with him.
- Was your father, right?
There was his photo when he called me as well as ‘dad’ in Dutch, which is ‘paus’.
- We don’t get along, even though we tolerate each other sometimes and maybe it’s even useful in his own way. After all, if it weren’t for him I wouldn’t be here.
But I realize, as I say it bitterly with a terrible smile on my face, that I’m convincing myself.
Pierre still makes an apologetic expression and I’m about to react badly because I don’t want anyone’s pity, but his hand that ends up on my back seems truly sincere to me. As if he had understood too much despite the unknown language.
I’m so readable, huh?
Well, but I know I am.
Spontaneous, open. Too much.
He then nods with an encouraging smile.
- Let’s go eat together, shall we?
I raise an eyebrow in surprise at this invitation and for a moment I think about accepting just to give Charles a nice shitty surprise and ruin his night before his big pole-man race, but Daniel's text reaches me right at this moment.
'Are you lost? Should we eat together?' At the idea of ​​taking care of him I feel something I can't decipher.
When I'm this pissed off about my dad he's the only one who helps me relax, it'll definitely do me good to be with him tonight. Besides, it was already in my plans and as long as we don't break up, which will happen sooner or later, we're still the couple.
So I sigh and shake my head.
- Although I'm really tempted to ruin our hero's evening, I still have a commitment. I'm having dinner with Daniel. - I can tell him openly and I think it's nice to have some smart accomplice who doesn't disapprove me from his fucking pedestal.
Pierre laughs, realizing that I was talking about Charles, and before disappearing into his room to get his things in our motorhome, he replies: - If you change your mind, you're welcome! The little lord knows how to behave, if he wants to!
The way he talks about him makes me laugh even when I'm alone in the room, while I do it I sigh shaking my head.
Pierre is my indirect link with Charles. I don't know how to take it, but it's a fact and thinking about it makes me feel strangely electrified. Definitely better than before I was talking on the phone with that asshole. Tonight they'll talk about me, I hope they don't tell how pathetic my private life is. I don't want anyone's pity, especially his.

Tonight is much better, finally.
Daniel seems to be more relaxed, certainly not because of the qualifying result since he's eleventh, but all week he's been tense and struggling to smile. Tonight he seems better or maybe he just wants to chase away every thought related to F1 and Renault and relax by taking advantage of me. Or, maybe, when I suggested dinner in the room he understood by himself that I had heard my father.
- You heard your father, huh? - he says surely.
I burst out laughing, perhaps to ease or distance my tension, and at this point we postpone dinner to take care of ourselves.
Each one licks the other's wounds and while he covers me with his athletic body, I hold him close to me as if I was looking for more contact, as if I needed more. And I think so, even if it's strange, this time.
Daniel still manages to get excited, he gets hard and before losing his enthusiasm I let him in by squeezing my legs around his hips.
I continue to keep him pressed against me looking for something. Maybe what was there at the beginning and that had made me lose my mind.
I close my eyes and let him satisfy himself completely without trying to speed up, letting my mind or hand wander to various stimuli. After a while Daniel gets carried away and I feel him getting bigger inside me, thrust after thrust. His voice fills the air and I'm happy that he manages to come.
Totally focused on him, I don't realize that I haven't come.
I always come before him or with him.
Daniel, panting, abandons himself after his orgasm, collapses on me and it takes him a while to recover and only when he realizes that I’m dry, he raises himself on his arms and looks at me amazed and worried. Damn, I didn't want him to worry. I struggled to make him feel good, for once I only focused on him without thinking about myself.
- You're not coming? - he’s about to start moving again, but as soon as he does, he comes out spontaneously without wanting to because he's obviously flaccid by now. I giggle and tighten my arms around his neck, kissing his mouth.
- It doesn't matter, for once it's not a drama!
He lets me place his face against my neck and stretches out better, stretching his legs. I can feel that he’s not convinced, but I continue to caress his back, while I kiss his temple and forehead with a sweetness that I’ve never had.
No one says anything, for the first time a silence is created between us that is louder than any conversation.
We both think the same thing, we know it and no need to say it. We won't talk about it, but we know anyway.
I always told myself that as long as the sex was great, I would be with him and nothing else mattered. That I wasn't ready to leave him and give up on him, on how good he made me feel and on our orgasms and on laughing.
But it's the first time or maybe in a while, actually, that our laughter together is no longer so convincing and real and it's definitely the first time that I haven't come, while last time it was him who hadn't come.
All week until now we haven't looked for each other, both thinking of other things, other commitments, other excuses.
I knew that I would understand when the time would come, and I think the time has come.
I just don't want to make him suffer, but I don't look at him because I know that I wouldn't see serenity and happiness in his face, now.
Even if the sex went better and we had a good time together, I know that it wouldn't be like it used to be. I think he finally realized it and admitted to himself.
So we don’t talk about it now, but we know full well that we will have to, sooner or later.”

Notes: Pierre's presence in Max's life at this moment has a very specific reason and is easily understood, as Max himself realizes Pierre is his indirect connection with Charles. Instincts and feelings related to Charles slowly take root in him, while at the same time things with Daniel come to their natural conclusion (natural because this is a lestappen fic and no orgy will be written, nor threesomes or foursomes! ;-) ). The specific references to the races are real, that race Charles really did pole with a record. Thanks to those who follow and comment the fic. Sorry if I sometimes delay in publishing, but it's the fault of work. See you next time. Kisses Akane