59. TASTE

/Charles/

“‘If you come up with something to distract our friend down the hallway, I owe you a favor!’
I tried, knowing it might not work, but then Carlos's text message didn't take long to reply.
‘All clear!’
So, surprised, I left escaping Max's strange claims about my closet space, realizing it was true. The hallway was clear.
When I reached them downstairs, I immediately realized that Lando knew everything from the way he was looking at me with eyes that sparkled like fireworks, but they'd probably slept together too, so he was feeling a bit at peace. He was looking at me, but he was more attentive to what Carlos and I were saying, and above all, perhaps, because I'd texted him directly.
- You could have asked anyone for help, why only him? - he asked, strangely giving up on asking me outright if I'd fucked Max. Because I know full well that's what he wanted to ask me.
- Because he's the most trustworthy of all of you! 
Or at least he seems so, but in any case, compared to the others, he certainly is.
I'm deeply glad that Carlos hasn't asked me for explanations yet. I think he’ll do sooner or later if we find ourselves in a certain circumstance, which often happens between teammates. Maybe I owe him some explanations myself, also because I need to understand what he knows; maybe Lando told him something that Max confided him. Do you want me not to take advantage and try to find out everything?Anyway, right now I'm focused on dodging the questions Lando wants to throw at me, but then Max arrives with a dark cloud over his head and I immediately understand that his mood has changed in the few minutes we've been apart.
When I see him taking it out on the waiter who's trying to enforce the rules, I stare at him in shock, not understanding what the hell is wrong with him.
Ten minutes ago he was overjoyed and was greeting me with a joke about sneaking into my closet as my boyfriend, and now I see him so pissed off? What could have happened?
Lando, however, doesn't seem to be surprised and immediately defuses the situation with one of his jokes that makes us laugh. To which he then adds, of course, the comment about the matching perfume and his shirt. What the fuck, do you really know Max's entire wardrobe?
Carlos, bless his boyfriend and now my friend, silences him realizing he's talking too much, even though it's late and I want to disappear. I decide not to take my mask off my face anymore, even though Max points out that we can take our masks off at the table.
Come on, have you already regained your good mood just by seeing that I want to disappear from the face of the Earth?
I glare at him clearly struggling, trying to put the mask over my eyes as well, but he takes care to pull it down and so I realize that his bad mood, brought on by himself, has just completely disappeared and I'm a little happy about that.
Forced by the arrogance with which he almost breaks the elastic from my ears, I find myself watching him laugh with an extraordinarily erect moon and I even end up being happy to see him like this.
I'd like to know what the hell was wrong with him, but maybe asking would be too obsessive and nosy. I almost gave him the third degree before about why he's friends with Martin Garrix. Thinking back, curious as they're talking about something I'm not particularly interested in, I grab my phone and look for photos of him.
As soon as I see his face, my eyes widen, turning pale.
Is this Martin Garrix?
Several photos of a good-looking young man scroll across my screen as I hold my phone under the table, trying not to be noticed by the idiot sitting next to me, at the safe distance we can be together according to the bullshit laws, as Max would put it.
I'm about to make an inappropriate exclamation that would make me lose face again, but luckily I hold it back. I straighten up and go back to making sure they're talking about their own business while I mind mine. Or rather, Max's.
So, without controlling myself any longer, I google also Max's name next to Martin's, and a series of photos and information are shown to me, things that I would have preferred not know. They appear to me and my eyes read and look with a burning fury that can be identified as jealousy.
Pure jealousy.
When the waiter comes to ask what he can bring us—hotel breakfasts are normally buffet-style, but now that's not possible, so they have to do everything—I simply ask for a laconic and icy ‘Coffee.’ And that's it.
At which point, hearing not only the unusual order but also the evidently overly assertive tone, all three forget what they were saying and look at me in surprise.
I immediately stare at them understanding why they're doing it, but I ignore them and end up fixing my incinerating gaze on Max.
I don't do it on purpose, but apparently this beautiful piano therapy has allowed me in some way to feel good, so much so that I'm incredibly spontaneous with the assholes I particularly care about. And of course, right now, there might not be anyone above Max on that damn list.
Max stiffens and scratches the back of his neck in his trademark uncomfortable manner.
I'll give you the uncomfortable feeling, now.
The other two with us distract themselves from the brief moment between us and order their breakfast; both Lando and Carlos take a while to come to terms with the fact that they'd prefer the buffet, so they make them list everything they'd have before deciding what to order. This gives me time to text Max to clarify something I absolutely can't keep to myself.
But I just send him the photo of him and Martin.
'You could have told me he's so beautiful and that you're good enough friends to go on vacation together, you asshole.'
Everything just blurts out. Again. Not just the look, but also the hyper-jealous phrase.
Oh my God, Charles, are you really like this when you're really into someone?
Max reads the message, his eyes wide in shock and looks at me as I pretend to ignore him, my mask back on so I can talk to the waiter—who's at a safe distance, but you never know.
Max rereads the message, thinking he's seen it wrong; when it's his turn to order from the waiter, he also asks for a simple coffee, just like I did, thus confirming that suddenly and out of nowhere, he and I are having problems, like a real couple that hasn't even really formed yet.
Lando and Carlos stare at us, dazed and full of curiosity, which I can read in both of them, but if Carlos is better at controlling himself, Lando obviously isn't, and I see him start to jump in his seat.
Max, after laconically ordering, replies to my message.
‘Are you jealous?’
Why does he always have to say it in that annoying way every time I seem jealous? If someone's truly jealous and they're asked this way, jealousy comes with irritation. Does he want to die?
I glare at him again and this time, since the waiter has left, I even pull down my mask to show him HOW jealous I really am, so he'll stop asking.
We don't notice the strange silence at the table; we continue texting even though we're sitting next to each other, accompanying our messages with strange looks—mine are furious, his are slap-in-the-face.
How easily roles are reversed.
'Stop distracting yourself from the question I asked you and answer it.'
'And what's the question?'
God, I'm going to kill him now. He's doing it on purpose, and when he looks at me with that feigned innocent expression, I really want to headbutt him.
The photo in question shows the two of them on a jet ski, Max in a white shirt and swimsuit—and he'll explain why he's dressed in the sea, but thank goodness he was—sitting behind Martin, who's just wearing a swimsuit. He even dares to give him a shoulder massage. AND THEY LAUGH!
'What are you guys?' I correct myself with another message: 'What exactly happened between you?'
After sending it to him, I stare at him inquisitively. Truth be told, I don't know from the outside what my face is expressing and I don't even care. I only care that he honestly tells me what he's done and, above all, with whom, just so I know. But more than the past, I need to know about the present. Is they having sex? But I'll get to that too. Little by little.
'I thought you wanted to know why I didn't tell you we went on vacation together and that he's a good-looking guy.'
You really like provoking. You're really good at it, huh? You love taking risks; it's obvious you don't value your life. And then I'm the exhausted and psychotic one, right?
I think if anyone here is suicidal, it's him.
'Have you fucked and are you still fucking?'
The question is extremely direct and I think if he doesn't answer honestly and immediately, I'll leave throwing water in his face.
The waiter brings Lando's three hundred courses, Carlos's fewer but still respectable ones, and then our two coffees. We continue to ignore everyone and stare at each other like two crazy people. I glance pointedly at Max's cell phone, which he keeps under the table like I do with mine, as if to warn him to hurry up and answer me.
Max seems to think for a while, but then finally answers and prays to God that he be sincere and that he'll convince me. Assuming the answer is to my liking.
If he plays with me, I'll kill him.
'No, we haven't fucked and I don't intend to.'
Good and sharp, do you see that you're not an idiot if you want? If you'd added 'for now,' you'd have gambled everything with me. Here and now.
But he doesn't write it, so I stare into his eyes from this proximity of about a meter across a nice, large round table for four. Shitty rules. But I can see him clearly and he convinces me. He's sincere.
If he had fucked with Garrix, he would have taken advantage of it, so if he says no when he had the chance to be cruel and make me jealous, he wouldn’t have lost it by lying.
At this I breathe a sigh of satisfied relief and then raise a finger at the waiter, adding a croissant and an orange juice to my order.
When I say 'croissant,' Max smiles goofily staring at me. I think he likes my French accent.
But you're not going to distract me like that, asshole.
Max then adds a Nutella waffle and a juice to the waiter, too.
When we're finished, we don't write anything else to each other and it's as if everything can be filed away as if it never happened. In fact we look back at Lando and Carlos and only now do we realize that they're staring at us with their chins resting on their hands, full of curiosity.
- Excuse us! - I immediately say nonchalantly, without even blushing or feeling embarrassed by the scene.
- About what? - Carlos asks calmly.
- Indeed, go ahead! We were enthralled by your silent discussion! The most interesting thing I've ever witnessed! How the hell can you argue without talking?
And Max obviously shows his phone as if to tell him you do it by texting, of course, but it was obvious that we were doing that instead of talking face to face. However, seeing that Lando is just holding out his big hand with shining eyes, I quickly grab his phone to prevent from letting him read certain things. If he sees how jealous and possessive I am, I could lose face; the whole world would know in no time and I care too much about my public image!
It might be a flaw, but that's who I am, fuck it!
- So you ended up together and you didn't tell us? - The obvious question is Lando's, but Carlos doesn't admonish him because I think he wants to know too.
At this, I blush and shake my head.
- No, what do you say? - I mutter gulping down the coffee that burns my tongue. I grimace and start fanning my mouth and Max responds by pouring me some water from the bottle on the table.
- Be careful, you hate hot drinks; your tongue is sensitive.
I was about to drink, but luckily I stop myself in time, and while the other two laugh, adding cliched jokes, I slaughter Max with yet another terrible look, which makes the asshole gloats with extreme satisfaction.
Afterward, the two of us will have a little private chat.
- Are you sure you're not together?
- Maybe you haven't noticed, but that whole pouring water thing for someone who gets burned is just for couples!
- What bullshit, even a friend does it!
- I didn't even think about it; I was laughing, to be honest.
- But you're a terrible friend!
- Mmm, this waffle is delicious, Charlie. Do you want to try it?
- Idiot!
And nothing, let's continue like this for the rest of the most delirious breakfast from now until practically forever.
Delirious, but also beautiful.
No, we're not engaged, but I think this is a taste of when we will be, because now it seems clearer than ever.
We will be, one day.”

/Max/

"Again, the feeling of being able to touch the sky makes me forget my father as if he never existed.
I don't think I've ever felt so good at breakfast, but overall his jealous outburst is the most wonderful thing that could have happened to me.
I know if I do it on purpose, I'm taking a huge risk, but I can't help but seek that feeling again and I definitely think I'll talk about Martin every now and then for one of Charles's sweet reactions. I might even lose my life, probably, because for a moment it seemed to me he was even capable of killing. Charles is definitely much, much more than he shows, and the more I discover, the more I fall in love with him.
- What the hell was wrong with you before, anyway? I left you allusive and idiotic in the room and five minutes later you were pissed off like crazy, only to go right back to being cheerful and silly as soon as you sat down with us.
His question surprises me. I turn around and see we're alone, waiting for the elevator to go back to the room and finish getting ready, before starting the respective programs established by our teams.
The masks on as always show only our eyes, which are stuck. He scrutinizes me inquisitively, but I don't think there's any trace of jealousy. I think he prefers to pretend it never happened, but since he's now seriously interested in me and I'm not the least bit used to it, I consider the idea for the first time in my life of telling someone other than Daniel. Reward his interest, in short. If I answer him with a curt "nothing" or evade him like he usually does, he'll withdraw and never ask me anything else, and even though I hate it when people mind my business, if he does it's different. It's beautiful.
Charles being seriously interested in me is simply beautiful.
Now that I think about it, maybe I might have vaguely mentioned something about my father one of those times when he and I found ourselves hallucinating, each for different reason, but knowing me I didn't go into detail and if he never mentioned it, it means he didn't really understand what it was about.
In Monza perhaps he realized I was arguing with him on the phone; then, when he was in nervous breakdown at my house at the end of 2019, I must have said something about my father, but I don't even remember what, and anyway he never registered it.
Well, it's not exactly the right time to talk about it; while others arrive by elevator, ours opens and we slip in. Since there's a maximum of two people to maintain social distancing, we take advantage of it.
But I don't want to waste his interest, so, sighing, I hold my mask on as if it were vital and as if we'd never lowered it ourselves despite the rules. He pulls it down his and continues to stare at me directly and inquisitively. He's really waiting for an answer. Of course, if His Majesty asks you a question, it's not just for show. He demands an answer.
I shake my head and shrug as if it's no big deal, obviously my eyes wander everywhere except him or the mirror that reflects our image.
- But nothing special, you know... my father again... he has the power to make my balls spin like nothing. He just breathe and turns me on! - I hope that's enough for him. I told him something, maybe if the right atmosphere is created I'll talk to him about it more. I don't think I'll be able to do it again. When I did it with Daniel was tough and I never went into detail anyway. I just told him he treats me like shit and that he's an asshole, but otherwise he simply saw how much we argue and how delusional I am after I talk to him. Basically, he figured it out on his own.
But if I had to talk to someone about it... I don't even know what I should say, honestly.
At his silence, I look for him in the mirror that covers this cubic tin, to understand why he doesn't say anything. Damn, just once when I mention my father, will you shut up? His eyes then adapt to the system I've adopted and he stares at me through the same surface, but his arms are crossed and his eyebrows are raised in an exhortative tone, as if to say, 'Come on, keep going.'
'Oh, are you serious? Now?' Mine, on the other hand, say this, but he, as if he perfectly understood this silent exchange, blocks the elevator with enormous force, which I was completely unprepared for, not for me and for this reason. I then stare directly at him surprised; he comes in front of me decisively, lowering my mask, forcing me to show him a look. He scrutinizes me deeply, starting from my eyes, but also takes in the rest of my face, my mouth tight and downturned, with no intention of opening and speaking.
For a moment I think I would have paid gold to be in a situation like this with him, but now I just want to run away. I feel cornered, my back against the wall.
What the hell is going on with him?
- Do you often argue with him to the point of being like this? - I shrug and try to joke about it out of pure defense, a typical thing about me. I don't even thought about it, I did it instinctively.
- This is nothing! Sometimes I'm more delusional after dealing with him in person!
Charles, however, doesn't laugh or accept the relief; he frowns, grabbing his prey, which in this case is me.
- Really?
- He just texted me, I didn't talk to him or argue! - I don't know if this is better or worse, given his expression, which now changes to shock and disbelief.
Come on, what do you care now? And where were you before, when all that existed was you and your fucking drama? It's not like now that you're better you can force me to fix mine. I don't want to, it's your fucking choice to solve your problems, but you can't expect me to want to solve mine too. I can't solve mine. Just hear him as little as possible, that's all.
- I remember when I was at your place, you said something about him, when you said you hated me as a child because you envied me for having the life you wanted, with a loving father... - so he remembers.
As soon as he says it, my eyes widen turning pale, as fucking spontaneous as ever. I step back and he, surprised, looks at me opening his arms and hands as if to calm me. He doesn't step forward or actually put my back against the wall, but it's a fucking unpleasant feeling.
Not everyone can force me to do what I don't want.
My father was enough to force me to live the life he wanted when I was little. I don't want others to do that. I instinctively shake my head and honestly don't know what expression I have, but Charles then slowly places his hands on my arms and, with a gentleness I don't think I've ever seen in him, caresses me, transmitting that sensation to my face, which softens.
- Okay, you can talk to me whenever you want. I'm sorry I realized your problems so late. Realizing your own flaws is traumatic. I knew I wasn't as perfect as I tried to be to make my father happy from up there, but I didn't think I was so far from reality. So different.
I shake my head and shrug my shoulders again as his caresses on my arms give me relief and I enjoy them. The warmth starts from there and expands inside my body, into my soul, and for the first time in my life, with him trying to take care of me, I actually feel like crying. For the first time.
But I won't, or I should explain why I do it and I don't know if I could. I'm not ready to talk about my father, not fully.
I smile with difficulty, perhaps badly and grotesquely, but I nod as if to thank him. If I speak now, it's over; my voice would tremble, I'm sure of it.
Charles smiles back and he does it better than me, for once. We still have to work on that smile, but it's definitely progressing.
- Our relationship is very complicated. It's not easy to talk about it right away. Another time, okay? - I only find the strength to say it thanks to his hands on me; he nods gently again. I wish this elevator wouldn't start up again, but of course he unlocks it and lets me go, putting his mask back on. I feel cold as soon as he lets go, but I put mine back on and turn around, staring at the floor.
So he's really interested in me? This time for real and not just for a quickie? Is it true? Can I believe it?
If I tried now, wouldn't he reject me again?
The doors open and he walks out first. I, still hesitant and shocked, follow him, keeping a safe distance. The usual man stares at us but says nothing.
I'm not ready to risk it yet. If I'm wrong with him again like I always have been, I'd open a window and jump out. I can't risk; I wouldn't be able to do it again. If he wants to, he'll have to take that damn step.
- You know... - I say walking behind him at that same distance, just before reaching one of our two bedrooms. Charles slows down and turns to look at me. I still have my face down, my eyes fixed on him. I timidly force myself to push him not to give up and try again.
- You made my crappy childhood less crappy at times, so I wanted to thank you for that.
I don't know how I say it, but he looks at me in amazement and stops just before reaching the door. I bite my mouth under my mask. Bless this shit. How fucking embarrassing. How could I possibly say something like that?
- I don't think I've actually done anything special. As kids we didn't really care much about each other; in fact, we hated each other a lot... - his response saves me, lightening the mood even though he's not trying to joke. It's just a slightly lighter response than mine. I smile.
- That’s why it was less crappy. I was having a lot of fun.
- To hate me? - he says cheerfully. I nod and light up, increasingly brushing away the weight that had just crushed me.
- Yes, to hate you! And beat you!
Charles obviously gets immediately shocked that I dare say something similar, because I know exactly where to touch him if I want to piss him off.
- Just because you drove like an asshole! - he says pointing at me and continuing to walk. I don't miss the opportunity to tease him further, diverting his attention from me.
- I drove? Does that mean I'm good now?
We're at my door and I stay here, but he moves forward and before we get too far away and separate, he turns and replies: - When you want!
This is the greatest admission and concession from him. He could never tell me I drive well, but allowing me that when I want I do, is the greatest gift from him; I know I'll never have better ones because he's convinced I purposely drive badly just to beat my rivals on the track. Because if I drove well, I wouldn't beat them. Everyone has their own ideas, I don't give a damn, I just need to overcome obstacles, be they cars or curves.
I open the door and walk in, giving him one last glance as I lower my mask and give him a grateful, relieved smile.
I seem to glimpse a distant finish line and it might be more beautiful than I thought.
Charles turns one last time before reaching his room and gives me the wink he typically reserves for—I don't know if it's for everyone, but it's definitely for me.
That crooked, funny wink stays with me and makes me happy as an idiot; as I walk in, I think that if he'd slipped in with me, I might have been able to talk about it now. About my father and everything. But that'll be another time.
Now I'm pretty happy.”

NOTES: Another little glimpse into Max's complex and hidden world. Clearly, what Max experienced with his father is fairly well known, but I've reworked and fictionalized the reality, so it'll all be much more exaggerated (from what we know). We slowly move from Charles's complexities to Max's, which are very different but equally touching and unique. All while that beautiful reverse chase mechanism kicks in. Now it's Charles who's chasing. Until next time. Kisses, Akane.