63. A STRANGE EVENING

/Charles/

"Electronic dance music doesn't fit at all with the confidential chat Pierre and I are having, but if I complained about anything again, I think he'd kill me.
Staying focused on him and what he's telling me is difficult and to avoid ruining everything, I stop staring at Max.
- You know, I've been meaning to tell you some things for a while, but there was never a chance and I didn't know when it was the right time to do... - Pierre begins, making me understand that these are personal things.
- Is there anyone else? - for a moment, before he answers, I feel suspended in the void. Suddenly I see an imaginary line below me; like one of those that determines the starting and ending points.
If I get through this, I'll definitively end this huge chapter of my life with Pierre and start a new one that he won't really be a part of, not like he has been up to now.
But will he still be there in some role, or will I have to give him up for good?
Did I do it all for nothing, or did I finally make it?
For a moment the place disappears, Max on the other side of the room too, the music stops and there's only me and Pierre's pale blue eyes staring at me.
How will I react when I know what he's about to tell me?
It's so important, this precise moment of my life, that I can't even breathe. Then when he speaks, he has to repeat himself because my ears were muffled.
- Huh? - I ask without having heard.
Pierre comes closer and repeats it to me slowly but clearly.
- Yuki!
I have to think about it.
- Tsunoda? - I ask stupidly.
- Yes, Tsunoda, how many Yukis do you know? - he blurts out, annoyed by my lack of reaction.
It's as if he's removing a chain. The chain that held me to him.
Here I am, walking and crossing that line.
A race is over, but another is beginning. Another one that will be different.
- Are you with him?
Pierre blushes and puts his hand over his mouth, leaning toward me for fear of being heard, so I move closer.
- There's just a candid interest on his part, we've been teammate since this year, last year he wasn't even in F1. But you know, I'm liking him, he's intriguing me, I don't know...
Pierre starts to babble embarrassedly about something I'm not a part of, and for a moment I lose him. Or maybe I'm the one losing myself.
As I see him light up with a tenderness I haven't seen in him in a long time, I realize I'm truly happy for him and as soon as I notice it, I feel better. Actually, good.
- I'm happy. I'm really happy, Pierre. - I say, more surprised by the fact that I'm sincere when I say it than by his revelation. After all he's a nice, cheerful guy with a wonderful personality, it's natural that he likes. To this I add a hand on my his arm, I tighten my grip and he stops from telling me things I haven't heard; he smiles relieved and surprised.
- Thank you. - he says, puzzled. I think it's weirder for him than for me, to say these things.
- And what do you want to do? Does he intrigue you? He seems sweet!
Pierre lights up again and nods.
- Very sweet, very nice, but also a cheerful and positive person; I like him, he's totally different from my usual type, but maybe that's why he's good, right?
‘Is your type a moody asshole who makes you cry?’ 
The question gets stuck on the tip of my tongue. Luckily I don't say it out loud, but instead I shrug because he's asking my opinion on something delicate: we're childhood best friends but also exes.
- I don't know, are you afraid you want to be with him for the wrong reason?
I try to take it wide and be as inconspicuous as possible, luckily he understands what I mean.
- That’s a bit of my fear. I'm fine. I've been alone for a year and I feel fine. - he says, bowing his head as if feeling good were a sin. I nod and touch his arm again.
- It was about time. - Pierre rolls his eyes and looks at me again surprised. 
- Really? Don't you think it's early and that I'm looking for a nail that drives out nails?
I raise my eyebrows in surprise.
- After a year, I don't think so. The nails that drive out nails come right away. - I point out with my usual logic. He seems to be thinking about it for the first time and nods, relaxing in his chair serenely.
- Yes, I think you're right.
- Do you like him? - I then ask directly.
Pierre nods.
- Yes, I like him. In more ways than one.
- Are you attracted to him? Do you think you could kiss him, sleep with him?
Maybe I've 'Maxed' myself too much. Pierre stares at me astonished at how I've gone to one hundred in an instant and his expression, as always very clear in what he thinks, makes it clear to me immediately.
- Well, there are also the intermediate stages! In the meantime, I'd like to explore this mutual interest further and then see how far we get.
At this I laugh easing the tension that had briefly built up. Max has infected me with his straight-to-the-point manners.
Immediately afterward Pierre resumes speaking about Yuki and the gist of what he says is that he likes that he's the first partner with whom he'd be in charge.
He's always been the sweet and gentle part of the couple; with me, he was bottom in bed and I assume with others too. Now with Yuki, if he wants this relationship to work, he'll have to take the reins and lead; he'll have to be the one with clear ideas and experience.
- It'll be exciting, won't it?
Pierre nods and shrugs, a little unsure about it.
- I hope I can. I know he likes me a lot, he doesn't hide it even if he tries; but he has such a spontaneous and sweet way of showing his feelings that he ends up making me understand practically everything. To please such a sweet person like that is beautiful.
The complete opposite of me, that's why he likes him and wants to be with him. I understand, it's good. Better this way.
It seems to me that Yuki is a cure for his soul, trampled on by me, not a real nail on another nail, but more a way to take care of himself. I don't know if that's a good reason to be with someone, but I'm careful not to tell him because I don't want to hurt or upset him. Right now, I just want to be his good old, supportive friend.
Maybe usual Charles would express some doubts, but I don't want that. I just want to support him, because knowing he wants to get back into the game and compete again, is truly wonderful news and hasn't fazed me at all.
- And anyway, I had a fight with Esteban. - when he says this, I feel like I've woken up with a start from a dream while someone was talking to me.
I stare at him, stunned.
- Huh?- I ask not even understanding what this has to do with anything and how he passed from Yuki to Esteban.
Pierre stiffens, pouting and shifts position. I can tell he's upset and annoyed by this, as well as very taken with it.
- Yes, we had a fight.
- But you're even better friends than me! - I remind him, shocked. This is worse than knowing there's an interest with Yuki.
Pierre shrugs and twists his mouth in a bitter way, looking away like an offended queen, equally theatrical. If I laugh now, he'll throw his glass in my face. Be serious, Charles. Pierre is deeply serious when he says this, you know he is. 
It's shocking that they fought.
- About what?
- What do I know! When he found out about you and me, he suddenly changed. I didn't quite understand, he turned on me saying I should have told him sooner, that telling him so late meant we weren't really friends and then he stopped talking to me. I told him it wasn't an easy thing to say, especially since neither you nor I knew what it was and I was waiting to understand, but then you left me and I felt bad. At that point he asked me acidly what I wanted from him now, why I only came to him now that I was well. I didn't know what to say to him, I didn't understand why he was so upset and in the end I said nothing. We haven't spoken in weeks. Not like before, anyway. It's a cold and formal relationship, but considering we were almost like brothers... Esteban and I shared a lot, especially when we were kids. We put each other through atrocious tests and supported each other. I don't know, it's weird. But I don't understand why he's sulking at me and I... look, I haven't done anything wrong, I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do!
Pierre would go on forever if Lando, literally appearing out of nowhere, hadn't swooped down on us, hugging us as if we were his dearest friends. He hugs me more than Pierre, but he's making such a fuss that for a moment I can't even hear my thoughts and the shock I felt at learning about Pierre and Esteban's situation, slips away. I don't have time to delve deeper and think about it, but I ask myself anyway, before turning to Lando whom I hadn't even noticed arriving: what the hell are Pierre and Esteban up to? 
I can't explain it, because as soon as I realize what Lando is saying, every particle of me focuses on him and his words.
- What? - I ask, shrill and incredulous.
- Oh yeah, why don't we have a drink together? It's absurd that we're coincidentally in the same place, separated! Going out under these restrictions is already shit! At least we can give each other strength! Come on!
- But you and who? - asks Pierre, lost in thought because, having his back to them the whole time, he didn't know they were there and I've always pretended not to notice.
- Me and Max! - says Lando straightening up and pointing to Max's lonely table. Max and his gin and tonics. How many did he have? At some point I lost count.
A fist hits me in the stomach as soon as our eyes meet from afar and I'm disconnected, but I reconnect with Pierre's bewildered voice, saying: - Come on, you saw them? I didn't realize they were here!
- Come on?! - Lando says exaggerating his feigned surprise. I'm going to kill him now. I give him a terrible, very explicit look as I reply, maintaining a false calmly feigning shock.
- No, not at all. I was focused on you and your shocking revelations!
Pierre believes it because he's not paying much attention to me; if he'd looked at me more closely, he'd have immediately realized I was faking it. Unfortunately, after that, he gets up, gathers his things and puts on his mask.
- Yes, of course, let's have a drink together! Were you here alone?
I don't know what they're saying, because while they go off together to Max's table, I stay at my anchored, glaring at the idiot over there, angry and stern.
I had to make him pay for that fucking scene with Kelly, even if it's actually nonsense. It was obvious to hug and kiss your girlfriend after winning a GP. What could he do? What do I have to punish him for?
That I'm not a woman and I'm not beautiful like Kelly? That I'm not perfect for him, that we can't be together. That I'm not his official first choice, but only his unofficial one. Damn, what do I have to take revenge for?
That in certain situations, Kelly will have to come first? That he wants to be serious with her and that it wasn't just a superficial, fake thing, just for a couple of weeks? What the hell is wrong, exactly?
I don't know, but as I think about it, I get up from the table feeling like a derelict, like shit for torturing him with Pierre for nothing. Because in the end I realize I'm the idiot and the only thing that really burns is that Max apparently belongs to Kelly, not me. Even if we ever get together, it will always be a secret and Max will always be Kelly's, in reality.
Suddenly, a traitorous sadness overwhelms me, but I get to their table and as soon as I look at him more closely, I immediately realize he's dead drunk, maybe more drunk than I've ever seen him, and that now it's up to me to fix it. All this without letting Pierre find out, because I'm not ready to tell him anything about me and Max yet.
My usual mess.”

/Max/

“- Can you believe it? That night in Monza might have been one of our last normal outings to clubs! Who knows when we'll be able to do another one like this, dancing all crowded together!
What a beautiful description Pierre gives.
- To stick our tongues in our mouths without having a gun pointed at us! - Lando adds with his usual delicacy.
While they're talking, I rub my foot on Charles's ankle under the table, now completely intoxicated by the alcohol.
I hope that's the right foot. As I hook someone's ankle, I scan the expressions of the others here with me and notice with pleasure that the only one whose eyes are wide with dazed expressions is my sweet Charlie.
- Yeah, really absurd! - I then say as my mouth lavishes itself with a surprisingly sensible explanation. At least I think so. Then I continue: - I wanted to celebrate properly, but in the end, since I couldn't do so many things, there were only my usual four friends, who then got bored, so I called Lando...
- Hey, thanks for making me look like the last spare tire, you know! - grumbles Lando, who I think is still quite lucid. Although in his case it doesn't mean anything, because he talks bullshit even when sober.
After an initial shocked look, Charles tries to control himself and I see that he's pretty good because he participates in the conversation, presumably saying things that are equally relevant. I think so. In reality, I only see his mouth moving, but I can't make out what he's saying.
Suddenly, my hearing comes back, but it's on Pierre's sentence.
- I’m sorry, you could have come to us! Didn't you see us? I hadn't seen you!
Nothing. I've lost Charles now. What could my Charlie have said? I stare at him intensely and just as I do, he starts speaking again and I smile, completely taken in by him and by what I feel, which I can no longer control. I must look like a total fool.
- No way, the way he's driving makes you look like someone who sees the others around him? - you sour bastard!
- I'd say not, considering how he's hitting them! - Lando adds. Imagine, what could he say?
- But go to hell, what matters is the result and the one who won here in Monaco today just so happens to be me! No, I didn't see anyone, because no one was ahead of me!
I emphasize my victory and a small part of me knows I shouldn't, but I can't stop myself. Only when I see Charles clearly shooting me with his gaze do I remember why I shouldn't have.
It's too late now.
Pierre, in fact, stares at me in shock as if I've gone crazy, while Lando bursts out laughing like the reckless bastard he is.
- Really, Max? - Charles says, flat and sharp as a knife blade. Ouch, I think that knife just stuck in my flesh.
- Come on, Charlie, I didn't mean to, I'm drunk, come on...
But as I meow, stretching out on the table trying to I grab his hands, he kicks me in the shin from below, slipping out of my foot treatment. While I'm seeing stars in pain, he gets up and, nodding to Lando, calls Pierre back as if he were his dog.
- I'm leaving, Pierre, what are you doing?
Pierre spreads his arms as if stating the obvious.
- And the drink I ordered?
- You can stay and drink it with them if you want, I'll go back alone!
Charles seems really pissed off and as he slips his phone into his pocket, he completely ignores me, as if I weren't here begging him with my hands clasped in front of my broken face.
Pierre is struggling, he doesn't know what to say because it's obvious he wants to stay, and from this I understand they weren't talking about me before.
- Charlie...
I keep calling him that without controlling myself; all the suddenly expressive warning looks aren't enough to make me understand that I shouldn't use that nickname, but my big mouth won't shut up and before I know it, I'm up and chasing him.
I honestly don't know how Lando handles Pierre, but I trust him absurdly, even though anyone in their right mind would never trust him. As soon as I'm standing behind Charles, I grab his wrist and realize I've been chasing him for longer than I thought, since we're actually already outside the same side door where they let us in, having let us skip the line.
Charles immediately turns like a spring as soon as he feels me grabbing him and tugs on his wrist. This makes me lose my already precarious balance and since I'm about to crash into the garbage bins of this disgusting side exit, Charles fortunately takes pity on me and grabs my arm, pushing me roughly with my back against the outside wall of the place. The dumpster is next to us, shielding us from the street that this little dead end overlooks.
A beautiful place, perfect for making out and for the staff who come in for a break.
A waitress comes out at this moment and Charles's hand suddenly lets go of me. A bit too much, considering that as soon as he lets go of me, I start sliding sideways, right toward the infamous dumpster.
- Oh God, Max! - Charles's annoyed voice reaches me as he grabs my shirt and crush me firmly against the wall again. This time he doesn't let go, so I stay upright, but only thanks to the hand pressing against my chest.
Finally his beautiful face comes into focus. Actually, it's his profile that's in focus because he's looking at where the waitress, whom I vaguely perceive as a shadowy entity.
They speak in French, and I get excited. Not for her, obviously, but for him.
No matter what he says, she disappears inside and so he finally looks back at me. His gorgeous little face is all mine and I can't help but smile like an idiot.
A fucking idiot in love. Or just fucked, I don't know.
When I realize I'm finally alone with Charles in a vaguely quiet and, I think, safe place, I grasp his waist with my hands and pull him closer, letting my head hang until I reach his shoulder and neck. That's where I snuggle, while my hands slide and I hug him.
And he, thankfully, stops pushing me away and gives in.
- How much have you drunk? - he asks resignedly. The hand from his chest moves under my arm and holds me close. The other... the other? Where is his other hand?
- I don't know, I lost count. Every time you spoke to him with that damned confidential air, I drank. I was dead jealous.
I don't even remember what started it all.
Charles sighs as he caresses the back of my neck, my hair sweaty from the heat of the place and the alcohol I'm exuding.
There it is, where his other hand was. On my head.
How sweet, my Charlie. Sweet and yielding like last night.
- Were you jealous? - he asks annoyed. As he says this, I realize he was taking revenge for something I still can't remember, so I laboriously detach my head from his shoulder, straighten it even if it turns me and look at him. His handsome face is extraordinarily close, within kissable range. In fact, it's his lips I'm looking at.
- Why, what the hell have I done this time?
Charles doesn't answer. I see him biting his lip as I stare at him from twenty centimeters away and I look up to see what's wrong.
Now he's not as annoyed as before. It's different.
He's sorry and remorseful.
Hmm. Maybe he drank too.
At this point we could take advantage and kiss. We'd blame it on the alcohol anyway. It couldn't be more perfect.
- You nothing, to be honest. It's just that I'm having trouble accepting the path you've chosen for your normal life, the one out there. The official one.
I don't understand anything he's saying anymore. I hear him, yes, but I really don't understand.
I frown, trying to make sense of his words, but he continues to caress me and support me in this way that's suddenly sweet and protective. His hand moves from the nape of my neck down to the side of my face, my cheek. He holds me still. The other moves up and reaches the other side of my face.
I'm in his hands now and I'm still.
- I acted impulsively, I wanted revenge for Kelly, but then I realized you weren't to blame, but it was too late. The damage was done. But you can't call me Charlie in front of Pierre and play with my feet.
I smile again. I understand that he regrets everything and is apologizing to me, even if I shouldn't do certain things in front of Pierre.
- It seems fair. - I conclude then nodding. Even though he's holding my face still in his hands, I push to reach his mouth and look back at him. He pales and at the last moment, he changes direction letting my mouth fall on his cheek.
- Maxie, not here and not like this. You're drunk and we're near a trash can. Shall we kiss sober and without this smell or without taking any risks?
I shake my head, but I know he's right, so I sigh and I snuggle up and let my face sink into his neck again.
- Mmmmm... - I mumble as my arms wrap around his body and he reciprocates with a firm, secure hold.
At this point I abandon myself and surrender, knowing he'll take care of me.
I see him texting something on his phone, maybe to Lando and Pierre. Then, honestly, I don't know anymore because even though I'm awake and up, my brain completely shuts down, but I'm calm. I'm fucking calm. I'm in the best hands. I wouldn't want to be in anyone else’s.

My consciousness comes and goes at various moments. I cooperate without realizing it, I follow his orders, but it's more automatic, almost as if I were hypnotized.
I don't think to speak, at most to mumble. At a certain point I'm in the car with him driving me home, my face pressed against the cold window, which is partially lowered so I can breathe and possibly vomit outside.
As the fresh air gradually caresses my face, I feel better, the world gradually comes into focus, even though everything is still spinning. I'm someone who holds alcohol well, but I have to drink it slowly and let it go while moving. Today, I sat down the whole time and drank quickly because the sight of Charles with Pierre irritated me. Besides, I was also tired.
When I realize I'm reasoning with my eyes closed and that I'm vaguely conscious, I feel my hand gripping something warm and soft. I open half my eye and try to figure out what it is. Seeing that it's Charles’s hand resting on the gear shift, I smile happily and my consciousness drifts away into a kind of dream where he and I are truly together.
Maybe it's true. Maybe we are together, but we haven't realized it.
When will we realize it?

My consciousness returns when Charles opens my door to let me out; he calls me gently, holding my shoulder so I don't fall out when he opens the door.
I let my head go toward his hand and wrist and plant a distracted kiss where my mouth reaches.
When I open my eyes, he's smiling amused and tender at the same time.
- Come on, let's go. - he says softly.
I take a breath and then get out. I let him close the door and wait for him to tell me what to do; since I'm still leaning against the car, he takes my hand again and pulls me, and I, though unsteady and wobbly, follow him. As I walk behind him I feel better and better; I feel like I'm returning.
I'm reminded of when I took him to the hotel that famous night in Monza, the very night we remembered before.
He doesn't know it, but I took advantage of him by kissing him on the lips while he was sleeping, so I hope he'll take advantage of me now, too. Even though I know him and I know he won't. 
Especially since he doesn't know I did it, he doesn't remember anything about that night and I didn't reveal it to him like an idiot. Who knows, if I'd said it maybe he really would have kissed me to remember it too. We'd already be together by now. How stupid am I?
- If we meet Daniel now, we'll be even. - I hear my voice speaking; as soon as I realize what I've said, my eyes snap open and I look at him anxiously, suddenly and briefly lucid. He looks at me and chuckles, shaking his head. He doesn't seem to mind; maybe I'm right after all.
Perhaps.
But what do I know, with him it's never what it seems.
Consciousness returns when I enter the house; no shock wakes me, so we haven't met Daniel.
I open my eyes, confused. I'm sitting on my bed, in my bedroom, and he's crouched in front of me trying to take off my shoes.
When he succeeds, before standing up and continuing with the procedure, he looks at me.
It's here, as we observe each other from this peculiar position, that I realize maybe I was wrong.
Maybe he'll take advantage of me, surprising me as always. Maybe.”

NOTES: The closure between Charles and Pierre was necessary, given that I've delved so deeply into their story. I'll occasionally include small segments about Pierre's love life, which he'll split between Yuki and Esteban. I thought it would be nice to hint at a side story (which I thought about writing properly at one point, but I haven't done anything yet). As for the nightclubs in Monte Carlo, I'm holding my hands up because I have no idea what they're like, but I used my imagination as they often have secondary service/emergency entrances and exits, perhaps used by VIPs. I hope it's not too unrealistic. See you next time. Kisses, Akane.