6. TOGETHER AGAIN

* 2018 *
/Max/

“I keep the TV on the usual F1 channel while they do specials on the season that is about to begin, I don’t listen because I’m not really that interested, but living alone it happens that I turn it on to have some background music to keep me company. I prefer Daniel, but now he’s packing his suitcase too, we’re leaving. We’re going to Australia, we’re finally starting and this year excites me more than the others and the specific reason is expressed in the program.
For the umpteenth time they talk about him, as if they hadn’t already done so abundantly since he signed in December.
There’s much praise for Charles Leclerc who finally arrives in F1 with Sauber. They talk about the beautiful linear path he has taken similar to that of many drivers, although, they add, it’s not uncommon for someone to skip a few steps and throw themselves into the lion’s den before the others. Someone like me. And here they’re comparing us for the first time, but I have a feeling that it’ll be the first of a long series.
From the way they talk, you can already understand our roles: he’s the good, polite boy, the little prince prodigy, I’m the terrible example with a shitty character, the Mad Max.
They talk about Charles's career, who has done all the important categories for single-seaters, always doing well in each one, and finally they mention his victory in F2 last year.
It’s perhaps the only result of his that I followed live and with interest, because I knew that if he had won he would have definitely ended up here this year, we were all sure of it and seeing him do it the year he lost his father, struck everyone, me first.
Everyone knows he was tied to him, but few know HOW MUCH; that day in Baku comes back to me forcefully as if it was yesterday.
For months now, they have been talking about him, every time I turn on this channel there’s someone who talks about him as if he had already won a world championship in F1. The prodigy, the predestined one.
They make you think of Charles even if you don't want to.
I remember exactly that Saturday in Baku, when I went to him specifically to offer my condolences. It seemed right to me, after all. I felt like it.
He made an impression on me.
He was there, but it was as if he wasn't. I could have asked him how he was or said something stupid and banal, like 'I have a beautiful memory of your father' and other bullshit, but my mouth closed and nothing came out because it was as if I knew I would annoy him. I don't know what he ever thought of me that day, surely at that moment the less you said the better, so I just left, but that very brief exchange is engraved in my memory, as well as every other feeling.
I take the clean clothes that I had prepared for the departure and, folding them with sufficient care, I put them in the suitcase open on the bed. Among them, the Red Bull shirts and clothes.
He wasn't smiling, that day.
Charles wasn't really smiling.
He did it with his mouth, he never did it with his eyes, but the most incredible thing was that he was there and tried to do it anyway as if he knew it was a duty and so he tried. With somewhat grotesque results, I must say. People greeted him, he was filmed or interviewed and he was kind, correct and smiled. Always and only with his mouth, but he did it. 
And the real question was 'but what the hell are you doing there?', but no one dared to ask him. They asked him how he was, what he thought of the race, no questions about what the hell he was doing there.
His father had died that week, how did he still come?
I know how close they were, I remember how important his support was, he was a positive figure. I realized that even though I never had much to do with him.
His closest friends were Alex, George and Pierre, but even though I wasn't part of their circle I always noticed how beautiful their relationship was and how good his father was and that's because I envied them. I wanted a father like that, a relationship like that.
Charles often exaggerated in competing against me and sent his races to hell, sometimes he wasn't first and even if Charles was pissed off and disappointed, his father made him smile and lightened his mood by highlighting the positive side.
He was a good person, I always envied him for that even if we weren't friends. There was no real relationship between us and our families.
But there in Baku I thought he was going to bury his career, as soon as I knew he was coming anyway, because how the hell can a normal person run a race well and lucidly when your father has died? From that it would have unleashed a domino effect.
He would have had two disastrous races, then regretting having tried and failed, he would have given in under the weight and pressure of grief for his father. He would have suffered twice blaming himself for not having stayed at home that week, to live the mourning and suffering and then try again more lucidly after having put everything away.
How could he expect to succeed without even having time to cry?
Instead, not only did he win on Saturday, but on Sunday he came second and ran stratospheric races for the rest of the championship until he won it. It was as if his level had risen even further.
I haven't followed him since we separated, but last year I did it out of curiosity. Because I was shocked.
How could he do it in the year of his father's death?
I remember that race after race I was more and more impressed and impressed, I couldn't believe it.
I know he was always good and talented and I knew he would join me in F1 one day. I will always remember our karting races, but the truth is that when I heard about his father's death I wavered in this belief.
They were too close, he was too important to Charles and Charles was too sensitive. Too normal boy, however competitive and good he was at racing.
I thought so clearly that day.
Instead this year he arrived here in F1 and basically thanks to the crazy season of the year his father died.
The more they talk about it, the more I think it’s incredible.
I suppose I was wrong about him. Maybe he wasn't so normal and sensitive after all. Or maybe until you suffer real traumas, you don't harden. Your true character doesn't come out.
It's not his first serious loss, as they’re remembering on TV he was a great friend of Jules Bianchi.
Who knows if when I see him again in Melbourne he’ll smile like he did when he was little or will he always have those forced smiles that I have seen on him the few times I have crossed paths with him in recent years?
A smile that never reached his eyes that instead always remained serious.
I don't know how I would have reacted in his place, but my father has always been an asshole, our relationship was disastrous and maybe one day I’ll understand and thank him if I were to actually win a world championship, since everything he has done has always been exclusively to make me strong enough to win a world championship.
If it were to actually happen I think I would thank him, but before I get there I hate him. After all, I have now freed myself a bit from him and now I can tolerate him, he always comes to watch my races and hangs around me like a fly on shit, but he’s still less present and a protagonist than before. He still has an important role in my career and often speaks for me, but in the end the last word is with those on my team and Red Bull and that's what matters; as well as the fact that at least I don't see him at my home and I can manage my fucking free time however the hell I want.
I've thought about it before, I remember it well. I can't imagine how I would react if he were to die or if he died at a key moment in my career.
Last year Charles was in F2, it was the championship that would have established his future. He had to stand out to get a contract in F1, being in the Ferrari Driver Academy doesn't guarantee a contract 100%, it puts you above many other drivers, it's true, but my father argued that such an expensive program wouldn't have prepared me better than what he did for free. Free was a figure of speech, because then he spent 365 days a year reiterating how much he spent on me, convinced that it was all wasted money since I was worth nothing.
In the end maybe he was right, who knows. Facts count and facts say that I'm in Red Bull in F1.
I close my suitcase after finishing it and check the time while on TV they close this program by switching to some old race of some other GP and I turn it off disinterested, thus also closing the unexpected dive into Charles Leclerc that they made me do. I'm happy to see him again and pick up where we left off.
Now we're having fun, even if first I have to understand what kind of driver he's become, racing against him with go-karts is one thing, with single-seaters it's different and I'm curious, really curious to see what he'll do on the track against me, although I realize that there's a certain difference between our two cars, not to mention the fact that as soon as you arrive in F1 it always takes a while to settle in, the first year is never good, but he could surprise everyone.
In any case he'll climb to the top, I'm sure of it. Regardless of how he’s now, I know he'll get to the top here too and I've been ready for several years. I smile excitedly at the idea as if I already had him here with me.
Life is about to get interesting again and while I think about it I quickly grab my phone and house keys and rush to Daniel with an urgent need.
He'll be struggling with his suitcase and knowing him he'll be taken badly given how messy he is. Not that I'm any better, but whether he's finished or not now he'll satisfy me for a moment or I'll strangle him.

When Daniel opens the door he's wearing a bright yellow sweatshirt that's several sizes too big for him and huge pants that go all the way down to his knees, his usual street style. He's just fixed his gorgeous curls today, in honor of the start of the season, he told me he was going to cut them a bit even though I didn't mind the wild version that he was.
I chuckle because I can see he's upset.
- I can't find the stuff they gave me... the Red Bull stuff, you know, the shirts and everything else... the new ones from this year... - Daniel shouts hysterically and I follow him, closing the door behind me. My libido drops dramatically as I realize that with the upset he is, he'll never bang me like I wanted.
Well, 'never' is a big word for me. You just have to try harder to stimulate...
- But how, they gave it to us last month, you only did the tests, how did you lose everything?
I get to his room and stop in front of the door because it's a battlefield. I can barely make out the suitcase on the bed, otherwise there are literally clothes everywhere. So there won't be any sex here, but the living room seems safe.
These are the important things for me, especially now.
I desperately try to hold on to the sense of excitement that had activated me. It's not easy to have it and make it coincide with the right time to fuck. Sometimes you have time but you don't feel like it or the opposite, you feel like it but you don't have a fucking minute free. Now there's time, desire but above all the right place. Home is perfect, especially because we live alone. Then when you go to the GPs you find the time and space but you often have to get creative or wait to go back to the hotel, because even in our private rooms in the Motorhomes they aren't super safe places. Better than nothing, but sometimes it inhibits you to hear the caos around or the awareness that they could come and bust your balls at any moment for who knows what the fuck.
Daniel continues to explain to me why he doesn't find new things and I was disconnected and didn't hear, so I nod pretending to have perceived and understood his words. But he’s caught up in his drama and dives back into the closet that he has surely already emptied judging by the floor and doesn't notice that I didn't understand.
- Oh well, it can't be there, they gave it to you a month ago, Daniel. You must have kept it outside ready to use!
I'm not known for being reasonable and pragmatic, but I'm not chaotic and disorganized like him either. If I did that when I lived with my father he would make me fly out the window after beating me like a mattress. And he would throw that behind me too, to keep me from coming back into the house!
Daniel jumps up hearing me from inside the closet, but he take a shelf and hits it with the back of his head, he curses and howls but goes out massaging his head. He looks at me, thinking about what I said, so fucking logical and sensible, and as if he had an epiphany while thinking about it, he nods.
- But you know you could be right?
- Why do you say that so surprised? It happens that I’m right, you know? - I reply annoyed as he ignores me leaving the room, at this point he attacks the living room, not much more tidy but less bad, perhaps.
He stops with his hands on his hips and his legs spread, he looks around over the furniture and the various lumps of unidentified stuff and then his face lights up when he sees a suspicious little mountain on a piece of furniture because it actually seems too high.
He grabs what's on top, blankets I think, throws them behind and finally the transparent bags with the folded Red Bull clothes that they gave us a few weeks ago are revealed.
Daniel raises his arms to the sky exulting as if he had won a GP and I laugh.
- See? Now I deserve a prize, are you going to fuck me?
I get straight to the point, or rather the reason why I was here. As soon as he hears, Daniel turns suddenly, comes towards me like a spring and grabs me by the face. Just before pressing his mouth to mine, crazy with joy for having found some stupid clothes, he happily replies: - Of course I'll fuck you, you deserve all my cock, come here!
With that he grabs me and hugs me tightly, pushing me towards the couch with a crazy enthusiasm that makes me laugh a lot. As we end up rolling on the pillows and who knows what else, our voices overlap and from amused they gradually become more and more excited as we take off our clothes and take possession of our bodies.
The excitement soon starts to rise again and with his mouth that goes down on my neck and then down towards the center of my pleasure, I arch and close my eyes waiting for what I came for.
As he sucks my cock, I remember the reason why I ended up so excited to look for it and Charles's face arrives inexplicably and unexpectedly. A beautiful face, matured compared to when we were children, always well-groomed and graceful.
I wonder if his mouth could make me enjoy it like this too!
As I think about it, I almost come and I have to stop him by pulling his hair to stop.
- Hurry up, hurry up, I can't do it... - I pant, pulling my legs up to my chest. He laughs hoarsely and excitedly, completely unaware of what made me speed up so much, licks his hand, rubs it on himself and then slides right into me just the way I like it.
Quickly and without being precious. Heat, excitement, fireworks.
The pleasure soon expands and with him moving inside me, the world disappears, making me forget everything, especially what's still wrong with my life.
Finally it's time to enjoy, enjoy always, whenever I want. Enjoy to the point of even forgetting my name. Just what I've always dreamed of.
The psychophysical well-being flows into every cell of my being and I quickly lose myself. I don't want anything else, in this moment. I'm simply fine like this, finally.

- Have you heard of Leclerc?
Daniel's question during a not-so-short flight to his homeland comes to me unexpectedly.
Even though we're traveling on a private plane, we're not alone since neither of us ever really travels alone, another reason why I want to please myself when we're at home.
Anyway, we're sitting next to each other in the most comfortable seats of all, of course, and I couldn't be better in any case.
We were selecting something to watch during the flight and while we were looking at the titles that to me were all the same as far as I know, he just blurted it out as if it made sense.
I almost got spit up.
Normally I wouldn't care, but last night when we fucked I thought absurdly of Charles and it had never happened before, but I almost came. It was damn good, overall, as always, but it was weird thinking about him at that moment.
I scrutinize him to understand the reason for this question. We never talked about Charles except for a vague reference that time his father died last year. Maybe he thought we were friends and that I was affected by that fact for that reason.
I didn't want to talk about it at all and he must have made his own films, especially since he's someone who likes to watch them in fact he's always the one who suggests titles that I like because I've never had any taste in them anyway.
With my father there was never any time for hobbies. The first time Daniel asked me what I liked to watch, I said Moto GP or F1 races. Beyond that I didn't know what to say, so then he started showing me what he thought was worth it and now he holds the remote control, as they say. Which in our case is a laptop. His.
In this regard I remember when I told him that I don't listen to music and that I have no taste in it, the expression on his face still makes me laugh. He thought I was joking, then that I was swearing.
He didn't have much success with that one because I don't think it particularly impresses me. I always tell him that I'm fine with whatever he puts on, he can also put on crap that I say 'ok' with a generic shrug. At a certain point he told me to go fuck and since I gave him more satisfaction with films and TV series we moved on to those.
- What? - I ask returning to his question, shaking me off my short but very quick trip.
Daniel continues to rummage through his super-stocked archive, I think he literally downloads anything since he doesn't have access to the internet on the flight.
- That he moved to F1, he's in Sauber this year!
I nod, containing the enthusiasm I felt the first time I heard the news. I was sincerely happy, more than I should have or what would have been normal. I remember my father grumbling saying 'there you go again, you'll start throwing yourselves off the track like two idiots! I swear Max, if you don't show yourself to be grown up and stop that bullshit, I'll give you so many kicks that you won't sit down for a week!'
It made me laugh, but I didn't dare. He told me in December, I'm twenty, what the fuck does he want to give me?
- Yes, I heard. I'm glad he did it, but I knew he could do it. If I did it, there was no way he couldn't!
Daniel finally seems to light up about a movie or a saga, I don't know because I don't know much about it, but I read some numbers next to it so it could be a saga.
- Oh, you'll like this! - he tries to explain to me what it's about and just when I think he's forgotten what we were talking about with his classic ADHD, before starting the see, he turns to me and starts with another question about Charles, as if nothing had happened.
- Did you race together? I think you're the same age, right? Just you came before him in F1... - he basically did the research himself to understand why the news about his father had upset me so much.
I pretend to be stupid, I chuckle to myself and I get comfortable by stretching my legs in front of me that I lift up resting on the part of the seat that lifts to make the passengers more comfortable.
I shrug, feigning more indifference than perhaps would be normal in a case like this.
- Yes, in karting. We didn't get along at all because we split the victories in all the races and often kicked each other out. But it was fun. When we switched to single-seaters we raced in different categories and we both won a lot more!
At least I don't know exactly how his career went after me, but since it went well for me, I think it must have gone the same for him too.
Daniel listens to what I've decided to share with him lightly and, glancing at the others with us, each on their own in other seats or reading or watching other things, he turns off the lights above us and lowers the porthole windows and then takes my hand. I smile, feeling the usual warmth that makes me happy.
He's so romantic that I don't know how he does it, but I like that he is. I can't do it, but I don't push him away when he has these outbursts. I actually like them, it's as if a bit of his humanity passes to me because I think I don't have any of my own. My father didn't teach me and he separated from my mother too early. If I had lived with her, maybe I would have been saved, but by going with him because he was supposed to make me a driver, he really screwed me over.
- You're going to have a lot of fun, then, this year!
His conclusion is the same one that had made me too excited yesterday, but it's not the case to jump on him like I did.
A slight smirk forms on my lips and I get comfortable by sliding on the seat, leaning sideways towards him. I can't rest my head on his shoulder, that would be too much, but that's okay. The movie starts and my brain shuts down giving me the pleasant sensation of being normal, for once. A movie, my boyfriend, a long flight and our hands clasped. Life is really beautiful. I hadn't realized that before him.”

NOTES: I don't know exactly who they travel with, but I know that they almost never travel alone. I think that they are usually accompanied by family and friends and maybe personal assistants whoever has them, but I'm not sure and I wanted to be generic. I know that Jos accompanied Max but not every race and not always for every day, moreover that at that time they traveled with Daniel's private plane is true.
Max has always said that he didn't have a taste for music, so I wanted to make that before Daniel he didn't have any for other normal hobbies and that he was the one who 'started' him.
The first part is for the knowledge and the deepening of the characters and their initial background, there are several chapters that aren’t useful for the purposes of the story in itself, but that are important to better explain them and the situation. See you next time. Kisses Akane