26. HUMANITY

/Max/

"How the hell do you break up with someone you've loved so much? The first person I've ever felt something so beautiful and positive for was him and I like him, I'll always like him, but I don’t love him.
It's not easy, and fuck it, I really don't know how to do it. I just let myself be carried away by the way I feel, caught up in the adrenaline of the competition and the excitement that's building up inside me because of Charles.
I'm so fucking attracted to him and not only that, I like him. I just like him.
I like the way he is, I like his looks, his psychopathic nature hidden behind this beautiful, gentle and correct appearance. I like how sneaky he is, how competitive, how touchy and that certain unpredictability that ultimately makes him so damn interesting and different from everyone else.
I've never met anyone like him and there's no point beating around the bush.
I like Charles now and I can't be with Daniel.
I can't because I no longer feel what I used to feel, going to bed with him properly or even having an orgasm is like a lottery. If it happens, it's only because I'm thinking about Charles.
There's no point in continuing, I'd be deceiving Daniel. I can't use Charles to have sex with him and in any case, it's hard for him to have an orgasm with me and sometimes he can't.
It's impossible to continue like this.
I don't know if anything will ever happen with Charles, but that's not the point.
People think I'm a total asshole, but the truth is I would never, ever hurt the people I care about, not intentionally.
Now, what I'm doing to Daniel isn't nice and I know I'll hurt him because it's inevitable.
Daniel saved me from the shit I was in, he gave me myself, the real me and he showed me how to live without regrets; he made me understand that you have to try to be happy beyond the races and the adrenaline we feel on the track. It's easy to feel good when you race, you have to try to feel good out of the car.
I missed this, I always had; I was hysterical and always angry because of my father and because I had nothing else besides racing. I had nothing.
Daniel gave me a whole world outside the racetrack, he showed me what I like, he showed me who I am and he made me understand how not to bang my head against the wall every time I see and hear my father.
If I'm a little happier now even when I'm not racing, I owe it to him.
But now that I've gone out into the world and opened up, I've discovered others. I've discovered what I like and who I am.
I don't think it's anyone's or something's fault, I just think that's how things happened. Sometimes, feelings simply end or change.
When routine takes over, a feeling should remain so strong that it's worth continuing together even if the crazy passion of before is no longer there, the one that was there when you fell in love. You should still be able to feel happy, find a way to be happy with him, but when that's not the case, it simply means that it was only the fire that kept you together.
Our dimension has simply changed, that's all.

I finish all my F1 tasks at lightning speed after the race and once I'm ready, I text him to meet up before we go at home.
We meet at the hotel, take the opportunity to collect our things before leaving and then we often travel together to the airport. It also depends on the results we achieve and how long we have to stay. If one of us has a podium finish, we have to stay longer, but in cases like this, neither of us has to stay longer and we know we'll meet up before we go to the airport.
When we were teammates, we traveled together with the same airline that had the partnership with Red Bull, but now we each have our own teams and we tend to travel separately. To travel together, we would have to purchase our own flights, independent of those provided by our teams. It can be done, just as many people buy a private jet and travel with that, which I plan to do sooner or later, but it's a bit of a hassle to travel privately if you don't have your own transportation, because you have to share the flight with strangers. Even if you're in first class, you'll never be alone.
Writing to him and specifying whether we'll see each other before returning, is like announcing I need to talk to him, I know that well.
Why am I doing it here and now? Why not calmly organize a decent evening at home?
Because now is when I still have the adrenaline pumping, now is when I found the courage. Now is when I thought, 'Now or never.' I know that if I wait until I get home, I won't tell him anymore; I'll lose the strength to do it and I have to now. I just have to do it.

I got there before him, after all I was the one in a hell of a hurry, so when he knocks on my door I've practically already gathered everything with nervous and moody. I told Sarah and Brad that it would take me a little longer, today, and that I'd write when I was ready. They both know I'm sometimes late and take it easy. I don't know how much they know or if they've figured anything out, but I don't care. I actually trust them enough, or I would never have hired them to be my assistant and PT.
Daniel smiles as always, but I see a light in his eyes. A light similar to the one I always see in Charles's.
I think of him again and shake my head spontaneously. Damn, I can't take it anymore.
He's always on my mind and it's absurd because there's really nothing between us, but I can't stop thinking about him no matter what.
He knows. He knows exactly what's about to happen, that we're almost there, that any moment is the right one.
Daniel leans toward me to give me a quick kiss on the lips, a classic hello between us without much thought, but even this has a bitter aftertaste.
- So, are you pissed? - he asks me wandering around the room. He doesn't even try to fuck me anymore.
Before, these post-race forays before we left were for a quick fuck because we couldn't help it, because after the races there's always the frenzy and excitement of adrenaline, it's like that for every driver. The two of us were practically two horny people with the constant desire to fuck, but now it's slowly become a duty until we stopped trying.
Things change, I guess.
Us, things, the world, life.
It just changes.
I've always accepted everything that happened to me without even thinking about it, but now I think about it because it hurts. It's sad.
It's fucking sad.
- First yes, I'm convinced that Seb sometimes gets stupid and doesn't remember how to drive, it's probably Ferrari's fault, whoever goes there goes down sooner or later... he took the podium away from me and gave it to his son!
I say this ironically, trying to be as acid as I can, but I really don't give a shit about this.
Daniel laughs, but he's less amused than he normally would be.
- You don't really know what pressure is until you're the first driver of Ferrari, they say... - It's true, they say. Look at Fernando before Seb... I think Charles's fate is sealed, but who knows.
Daniel tries to justify Seb because they're friends and it doesn't bother me.
Thinking about how many people love him and how many friends he has, comforts me a little: he'll find a way to feel better.
Daniel sits on the bed, absentmindedly looking at the full bags to close. I unplug the charger and throw it in one of them.
Fuck, I don't want to do it. I don't want to.
Why do I have to do it?
Can't I postpone?
But I think about Charles, I think about the next time I run into him and how I'll want to provoke him in some way to get him to react to me.
I don't want to have brakes anymore. I hate driving with brakes. I have to go fast, I have to take turns at a crazy speed without thinking about the consequences.
This is the life I want to live.
Now I'm living with the brakes always on.
I want to take this damned brake off.
I sigh, a little smile that fades into bitter sadness. I lean against the table in front of the bed where I've put my things. I cross arms over my chest and remain silent for a while, staring at him.
Daniel stops his forced smile, looks back at me in incredible silence. He's never capable of keeping quiet.
Why do I have to do this?
Don't you feel the same? Why do you make me do it?
But that's okay, after all, the last fucks I had with you were only possible thanks to my fantasies about Charles.
I bite my lip, stare into his eyes as if I could read his mind, but all I see are the tears ready to fall.
We've always understood each other so well and so quickly, without needing to speak or say anything.
The first time I kissed you, it was because I knew deep down that you wanted me to do it too.
We've always understood each other so well, so there's no point in beating around the bush.
It's a conversation we've both had a thousand times already inside us.
- You know what we have to do, right?
It comes out like that, as if it were obvious, but I hear such melancholy in my voice that I can't even hear it myself.
Daniel smiles and bites his lip at the same time. I've never seen a sadder smile.
He nods.
Now his eyes are really shiny.
Please.
Please, be strong because if you break down here, it'll be a disaster for me.
I'm sure it's the right thing to do, but it hurts so much.
When did being together become so painful?
When did everything change?
I've thought about it a thousand times these past months. If I had to name a moment when I started to feel different while I was with you, I can't help but think of Singapore last year.
Because for the first time, I wanted someone else.
You've started to not be enough for me.
- How did we end up here? - he asks in a low murmur.

If, as an old man, I were to remember something atrocious moment in my life, one of those moments will surely be this, his voice breaking. He speaks so softly, precisely so as not to lose control completely.
The saddest smile I've ever seen continues to hover on his face that I liked so much. Do I ever loved him? But what do I know about love? Someone like me, so ruined by his father, what the fuck does he know about love?
Maybe that's the point, right?
- We've simply changed. Us, things between us...
I try to put it as simply as possible. I don't want him to take blame or see enemies.
No one is to blame but myself.
Because I've been fucked since birth, that's the point.
I'm flawed, I'm weird, I'm different from everyone else.
Daniel sighs and shakes his head looking away, he must be full of tears.
- In the end, were you right when you said that if I left, it would be the beginning of the end of our relationship? - he asks bravely, making an effort.
His voice is still shaking, almost inaudible.
It's so shocking.
Shivers run through me and I just want to erase this distance between us, hold him tight and say, 'No, another time. We're together for a little while longer.'
But I stand still with a strength I don't know where it comes from.
I think back to before, to the race. To Charles, who went against his typical driving principles by changing his style just to teach me this lesson. How much I loved it.
How I would have jumped on him if we'd been on the podium together, if I'd had a fucking chance somewhere, at some point.
- No, I don't know. We just lost each other. I think it just happens. It's nobody's fault. Things happen on their own, they change. They always change. Nothing stays the same.
But I don't know if it's true, I don't know if life really works like that.
I'm the son of separated parents, I've never had examples of true, lasting love. I don't even know what love really is, other than that of a mother for her child, but that's not an innate and normal love, is it?
For a moment, my father comes to mind. And shouldn't a father's love be innate and normal too? Shouldn't that exist too?
I let the thought go and look at him again. He's broken, totally broken, he doesn't know what to say, what to do, so he sighs, nods and stands up making himself strong.
He can't say anything, my mouth turns to lead as does my body, which remains rooted where I am. He comes in front of me slowly, as if every step were torture. My heart is racing and it hurts, it hurts like hell.
My eyes widen and I stare at him, motionless.
Daniel comes in front of me, he stops without touching me. He looks in one of the bags on table I'm leaning on, picks up one of the shirts, brings it to his face, smells it closing his eyes, then with a melancholy smile I'll never forget, he says goodbye.
- It’s okay. - he says finally. I don't know how long it's been since I've breathed. - See you at home. - he concludes softly.
It'll be inevitable.
After that, holding my shirt, he leaves the room.
This is awful. Absolutely awful.
The worst thing I've ever done.
I hope I never have to do it again. Damn, what a piece of shit I am.
How awful I feel.
Fuck. Really, fuck.
I look up at the ceiling and make the biggest effort of my life not to cry. There's no point in crying. I don't have to.”

/Charles/

"This time, there was a plan.
While I was taking care of my business on the circuit as a third-place finisher, Andrea and Joris would collect my things from the hotel, which were already packed and ready in my room and then come pick me up to take me to the airport.
It was a good plan and certainly perfect, except that the two evil geniuses, leaving during my post-race press, had taken all my things, including my change of clothes to leave the circuit directly.
I was supposed to take a quick shower here in the motorhome and change into civilian clothes, but being left practically alone in my racing suit and drenched in champagne and sweat, I had no choice but to tell them to change plans and wait for me there.
I got a ride from someone who, like me, was going to the hotel and on the way I read the messages I received, finding Pierre's among the many full of compliments on my podium.
'I saw Daniel coming out of Max's room crying. And Max never came out of his!'
What does he do? Now, is he worried about Max? He and Pierre aren't traveling together even though they're both Red Bulls, because they live in different cities, but I guess he expected to see him before leaving. But are they really becoming such good friends that they're expecting each other and traveling around the various locations together?
This thing occupies a large part of my brain and only with a delay do I realize the real meaning of what he said and my eyes widen as I reread his message. I look at the time he wrote it and then I calculate how much time has passed, but I can't understand anything anymore because my heart ends up beating faster than it should.
From jealousy over Max and Pierre to shocking logical deduction.
Did he and Daniel break up?
I bite my lip as I insult myself, hoping to recover.
I was just back to normal, damn it.
Why does this news affect me so much? It shouldn't!
It's none of my business what they do, but rather why was Pierre waiting for Max to go to the airport when they're not traveling together? Pierre lives In Milan, Max in Monte Carlo like me. At most, he and I could travel together if we had a private jet, because as long as we use the ones provided by our team's partnerships, obviously, we can't.
WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU SAYING, CHARLES! GET AWAY!
I'm losing my mind!
This is completely nonsense. Anyway, it's been a while since his message, so I think he's no longer here.
I pretend I haven't read anything, even though he'll see the damned blue ticks and ask me in a few moments why I'm not saying anything.
I get out of the car and thank them for the ride, then I rush inside like a lunatic.
I feel like I need to poop. It's not unusual, sometimes we have big needs, so we make a grand escape as soon as we can; not everyone feels comfortable doing certain things in the bathrooms at the racetracks.
But can you have more idiotic thoughts?
Poop?
Really, Charles?
I quickly get into the elevator, feeling like a lunatic. I don't want to feel like this. I was fine, I had calmed down, I was normal and now this unstoppable frenzy is back.
BUT FOR WHAT?
As soon as the doors open, I rush out with my head down without even looking ahead, but I don't even take a full step outside before I literally end up in someone's arms.
We curse together, I do it in French, while he is extremely annoyed and very rude, but as soon as my brain registers his low, scratchy tone, I shiver from head to toe.
Really?
REALLY?
Max holds me by the arms while I hold him by the hips, where my hands ended up after colliding with this human wall.
A few centimeters separate our faces because, in fact, we have actually collided, I'm in his arms.
My eyes widen and I blush, I feel on fire and in an instant my brain shuts down even more than before, and even before my brain had vanished.
I open my mouth to say something meaningful, but all I can say is a "sorry" in French.
As soon as I speak, I immediately notice his eyes widen and it's as if a shock has passed through him, so much so that I think I stepped on his foot. But his stiffening isn't from pain, it's just... something I can't decipher, actually.
It's something, but I get lost in his dark, pained eyes.
Either he cried or he was about to.
The realization hits me like a car going 200 miles an hour, it shatters me and makes me feel strange. Strange how?
Strange, I don't know.
Everything is too fast. From the moment I bump into him to the moment we look at each other and I notice he's in terrible pain, only a few seconds pass, but they seem like eternity given how much I feel and notice. Things I can't even understand.
- Sorry... - I repeat in English. When I switch back to the spoken language commonly, it's as if Max also recovers and reinserts the plug. 
He shakes his head and shrugs, letting go of me, moving slightly to let me pass, and so, reluctantly, I exit the elevator where we were stuck.
He enters in my place, dragging the suitcase and the duffel bag he had put down; before we leave and go our separate ways, we look at each other again and the doors are about to close, but it's so obvious he's got something wrong.
Yes, of course he has and of course I noticed. Shouldn't I do anything?
But what do I care?
I hate him, he's my rival, he's an asshole. Is he?
Is he really an asshole?
Under the elevator light, brighter than the one in the hallway, I look more closely at his eyes: the blue irises are darker and more somber. He's really like shit. I can't tell if he cried, maybe not, but I think he was about to. It's clear he's on edge.
The doors are closing between us in this dreamlike moment, as if neither of us are in our right minds, and at the last second I reach out and instinctively block the closure.
- Are you okay?
It's a question beyond my control. I didn't want to ask it, I wanted to walk away, ignoring him like I've been doing by all the week. But no, I don’t.
I can't do it.
Again, in front of him, I lose control, but this time not because of anything related to the races or some dirty trick of his, nor anything sexual. For the first time, I realize he's human.
He's bad, really bad.
He's a wreck.
Max purses his lips, filled with a sadness so obvious and not at all hidden, that paradoxically I envy him.
How is he not afraid to show what he feels? How does he do it so well? When I think about doing it, I always realize I'm still in my insipid gray.
He shakes his head without even pretending or trying.
- Nope.
But he won't tell me what's wrong and I won't ask him, because I know and I shouldn't know and anyway, we're not two people talking. We've never done this and there's no point in starting now.
It just doesn't make sense.
- I'm sorry.
And yet, my mouth speaks for itself again, against all my expectations and desires.
I'm sincere.
He nods and gives the faintest hint of a grateful smile, I realize it's necessary, but he just wants to cry and here, as I let go of the doors, he watches me slide my hand away and for a moment he tenses his muscles, as if resisting an impulse.
I think he will, I'm convinced he will. Instead he sighs and relaxes his body, letting the doors separate us definitively without doing anything.
Instinctively I sigh, only to realize again, shocked.
He broke up with Daniel.
This certainty paralyzes me to the point that I remain here in front of the closed doors without moving.
Max broke up with Daniel, I repeat to myself, motionless, without remembering what I came here for.
Why does this seem to have such a significant meaning to me?
Get over it, Charles.
Get over it, damn it.
Come to your senses.
It's nothing that concerns you, absolutely nothing. A fucking nothing.
Mind your own business, go on with your life. Write to Pierre, go take a fucking cold shower and then go home. They won't wait for you forever, you know?
Move your ass. Go back to your life.
Stop thinking about him, his tears and his sadness that paralyzed you for a moment.
Stop thinking about his incredible humanity and fragility.
Stop it.”

NOTES: I think the usual post-race routines are various: if I'm not mistaken, there are times when they leave the circuit directly and other times when they first stop at the hotel to collect everything and clean them up. I don't think there's a fixed schedule; I assume that those who have assistants like Charles perhaps use them during post-race duties. I know Max has (or rather had, I don't know if he still has them or if they've changed) an assistant and a personal trainer, but I don't think he's the type to always travel with them like Charles, because he has a friendly relationship with his team. I think Max has a different, more professional relationship, but these are just my guesses. I looked up names and found some, but they might not be accurate. In any case, someone must have had for sure. The issue of flights and travel also varies from driver to driver. From what I've seen, teams tend to have partnerships, but drivers can also decide to travel independently (on public flights or private jets). At that time, Max didn't yet have his famous private jet and I honestly think he and Daniel still flew together, but for the sake of the script, I did it that way. These are just details, anyway.
Now Max has left Daniel and Charles has found out. Things are seriously changing and the domino effect has been underway for a while now, only the effects are starting to show now. See you next time. Kisses, Akane