73. SPONTANEOUS REACTIONS

/Max/

“There's this moment between the track and the celebration area where Lewis takes a moment to put the pieces back together, and I end up doing the same.
I sit exhausted on a crate in a spot a bit apart from the chaos of the others, the comings and goings, shouts, calls, races. People have to get ready for the party, everything has to be ready, so I can sit here for a moment and think.
And understand.
Understand what happened, assimilate, realize, but I still can't. I'm stunned and lost. I realize I've achieved my life's purpose, but I'm also aware that it's always been my father's purpose. What was mine, really?
Ultimately I race for him, because he wanted it. And I became world champion because he always wanted it.
I've always done everything he wanted. Then it turned out I liked it and that speed is in my blood, but it was never the dream I chose for myself.
I like it, I am happy, but I didn't choose it.
And now I've realized it.
Free, I told myself before.
Now I’m free, yes.
From my father and his constraints, from his presence in rock-crushing mode. Now he can be a normal father, I wonder if he really will be. If he'll be capable of it.
Just because he can stop busting my balls doesn't mean he'll stop. But it's done, right? I've won.
I've already cried about this. Before, hanging on his neck.
But what am I supposed to do now? Now that he'll leave me alone, what am I supposed to do?
What is the real purpose of my existence, from here on out?
As if evoked, a familiar slap hits the back of my neck as I'm hunched over my knees, bent over.
I would recognize his slap among a thousand, I straighten up, but I'm still a little bent and heavy. I should be light and happy, and I am, but there's still this question that haunts me. 
At the end of the day, who am I without my father and his will?
I'll keep racing because I like it, but it's never been what I chose. Now I can choose it, though. I can choose something.
He bends down in front of me, his hands on my knees, looks at me, we smile at each other. I don't know what I feel for him right now. It's all chaos.
It's all strange.
I think we're remembering the same things, each from our own point of view.
He knows that if he doesn't say it now, he won't have the chance, because I'll always be here, just like him, but from here on we feel it will be different. I'm sure of it. We both are.
- You know, I'm not proud of what I did to get you here. But I did it knowing you would get there.
I smile knowingly, but maybe I'm tired and grotesque.
I can't speak. My throat is knotted, I stay here at his mercy. Maybe for the first time I'll like what he has to say to me. Before I liked it.
- I know I was too harsh, but I was truly convinced that only this method would work with you. Something works for everyone, you are like that. You're stubborn, like me. If I had someone to do with me what I did with you, I wouldn't have grown old full of regrets. But you are my redemption. I lived my dream through you. - while he speaks, his hands caress my arms and then move up to my shoulders. They tighten.
I knot myself again.
My father with his hands on me to comfort me, not to hit me. He can be so warm, if he wants to.
Why did he wait so long?
Why didn't he do it before?
- I would never have let you down. - I just murmur, my voice breaking on the verge of tears. I tense the muscles in my face in another expression of fatigue. I struggle to stay inside me and not melt.
I would never have let you down even if you had treated me more humanely. He reads it between the lines.
- You’ve never let me down. I just wanted to keep your motivation high.
His hand tightens.
You've crushed me, but I won't say it. I don't want to ruin anything, because this lump in my throat is now behind my eyes and I know it won't take much for it to all come out pitifully, and he doesn't want to see me so fragile and weak.
- I know they weren't good methods.
I think he's apologizing in his own way, I don't think he'll ever do it explicitly, but as he says it, I feel like crying; I desperately want to cry, I just don't know why I would, so to avoid making a mess I swallow for the umpteenth time. I'm used to it, right? I've always done it, just keep going. Swallowing tears instead of shooting them out of my eyes. I forced out the happy ones before: they were beautiful, they were fine. Others, of a different kind, are useless.
His hand rises from my shoulder to my cheek. Warm. Sweet. Like a father.
So he could being a normal father.
I squeeze my eyes shut like a madman, wiping them to keep it all back. Don't cry, Max. Don't make mess.
- But I'm really proud of you. I knew you could do it.
I don't know. I'm not sure. I still think you're just saying that because I've won now. But it doesn't matter, I hold tight to these words I've always dreamed of hearing. Words I'll never forget and that will act as the glue between us.
Now I can think about having a normal father too and being happy to have one without envying other people's.
I take a deep breath and try to regain my composure with a forced smile. I'm exhausted, it's worse than ten races in a row. I can't take it anymore.
It's beautiful, but I'm devastated.
But his hands hold me, his moved eyes smile at me and finally look at me the way a father should always look at his son.
It's the first time it's happened and I'm so stunned and moved that I don't think I'll ever recover from this moment.
- It’s okay. - I finally murmur. I can't do more than this.
No, it's not okay. It shouldn't get to the point you've reached. A cuddle and a nice word aren't enough to erase everything. I can't erase the times you left me on the street to punish me, or when you punched me in the head. Or when you insulted me.
But now it's truly over and I can begin my search. The search for myself and what I want to do, what I want to be, what I desire.
As I'm called to the awards ceremony, I fall in line with a silent Lewis; together we reach Carlos, who was waiting alone as today's third-place finisher.
I don't know. I don't know what I'll do from here on out. I only know that I want to continue that conversation with Charles.
He's the one who comes to mind in this moment, where I'm so deeply shaken I don't even know who I am or what my name is anymore.
First I hugged Kelly, I hugged my dad, I hugged Lando and Carlos and even Daniel. I've hugged so many, but I miss him. It's his hug that I really miss. Only his.
If he were here now, smiling at me, I'm sure I'd come to my senses with a clear head and know what to do right away.
I'd take refuge in his arms and let him kiss me.
But as I walk away from my father to officially collect my award, I think that in the end no, that wasn't okay. Happiness isn't achieved at such a high price, but at least after this I can try to get my own, the one I truly want for myself.
And fuck it, I'm tired of waiting.
As soon as I see you, Charles, your mouth will be mine.

Soon everything is moving fast, with celebrations of all kinds, everywhere, with everyone, and over and over again. I start drinking almost immediately, without even intending to slow down, so much so that I don't even realize time is passing and that he's the only one who hasn't reached out me among the thousands of people congratulating me. You damned little bastard.
You don't dare leave, do you?
I swear I'll kick your ass as soon as I catch you if you dare.
If only I could get my phone back and text him to find out where the fuck this asshole is. I gave it to Sarah, asking her to charge it and get it to me as soon as it's full, so I'm waiting for her, but in the meantime I'm wandering from one place to another depending on what they tell me, completely carried away by what others have planned for me.
There's also a party with a DJ set by Martin—which I wasn't expecting because I didn't know he was coming; he surprised me, but everyone must have been really optimistic. When I see him of course I hug him, we're very happy. We're friends, there's nothing strange about it, everyone knows that. But while I do it, I think back to Charles. If he dares to act jealous after he hasn't shown up for the compliments I deserve, I'll kill him. Finally, Sarah returns and once she hands me my fully charged phone, I see it's full of messages and calls.
I scroll all ignoring everyone and go straight to Charles's chat, which I open with the conviction that I should shower him with insults, but I'm immediately contradicted.
Here's his lovely message.
'Tell me where you're going to party later, I'll be out waiting for you all night. Get a move on, champ!'
The goofy smile spreads across my face, a smile that feels like a man lost in love.
How romantic!
My head is already spinning, but I'm still sufficiently sane to know what I'm doing, even if I'm not sane enough to contain myself.
But today it's not about containment. Today is about completely getting out of my mind and out of my comfort zone.
There are so many people around me and they all know me so well that they know I always have to have a gin and tonic in hand. Some of them are my closest friends whom I arranged to come here today, either in the hope of having something to celebrate or to have something to forget. In any case, I knew I'd end up drowning in gin and tonics, looking for parties, music and getting high.
And so it goes, as I move from place to place, until I reach a yacht belonging to someone who's throwing a huge party in my honor. A party I obviously don't intend to ruin by leaving.
So yes, of course I'm coming. And yes, of course I sent Charles my real-time location at the beginning of the evening, showing him all my constant movements. Every time I move, I carefully check to see if he's found me and if he's around. And when I don't see him, I steadily drink more to bear the annoyance of not having him here with me. How dare he not compliment me and disappear? And how dare he not hurry up and join me? How long does it take?
Come on! Hurry up, Charles! I want my prize. I want my fucking prize, you idiot. You owe me.
But look at this nice high spot I found to survey the entire pier and the VIP area of ​​this place. A red carpet brings important people or their acquaintances to this group of luxury yachts where each one is hosting a party.
I have to say, here in Abu Dhabi they know how to enjoy life and have fun. Ending the season here is actually a pretty smart move, from that point of view.
But my thoughts are lost when, finally, I spot a figure who seems Charles.
Because looking for a specific person when you’re sober is one thing, but when you're increasingly drunk it’s another.
From up here, I can't tell if it's him because he's turned away and talking to other people who are with him, but the music isn't loud enough to drown out my voice, so if I call out to him, he should hear me. At this point, if he turns around, it means it's him, otherwise fuck it.
So I don't think about it too much, I put my hand over my mouth, the gin and tonic in the other, and call out to him from above. Turn around.
Turn around, Charles.
Turn around and show me it's you. I just can't take it anymore, damn it!
Turn around and look at me!”

/Charles/

“That goddamn asshole.
How the hell did he dare win a world championship before me?
But then again in a certain sense it was obvious that it would happen, he has always rushed ahead, he skipped F2 to immediately go to F1 to take on the most hateful insults and nicknames. It was obvious that he would ascend the throne before me, but since I also managed to do everything he did, I will succeed in this too.
It's just a pain in my ass to do it later, but what matters is succeeding.
It takes me longer to do things because I'm a perfectionist, I like to do them well, as well as being the best, because winning by being disgusting doesn't suit me at all.
So at first I resent him and swallow the bite with difficulty, for a moment I'm just the Charles driver who has always been in competition with him, too convinced of being better than him and too consumed by the fact that somehow, despite the same age, he has always arrived first.
In hindsight I know it was due to his father's overly brutal methods, methods that my father never believed in.
So yes, I'll get there later, but I'll get there too and without childhood trauma and abuse.
But I have to get over the not insignificant detail that the asshole won a world championship before me.
If I get over this I can also be happy for him and celebrate him as he deserves.
Before I realize it, however, my legs move away from the Abu Dhabi paddock, preferring to make a comfortable stop at the hotel, wash and get ready, before going out and wandering around the city.
To celebrate what, someone asked me.
Whatever the fuck I want. I have nothing to celebrate, but I really don't give a shit. The season is over and I want to celebrate this, that it's over, that it was shit, that I sucked and that I can reset everything for next year in the hope that it will be better because this is something to forget and how do I forget it if not by drinking?
That's what I want to celebrate.
As time passes, I realize that I was a childish to run away without looking for him and congratulating him, but a part of me was also afraid of not knowing how to control him, because surely if I had hugged Max first like everyone did, he would have gone further and before we were too much in the midst of everyone, journalists, video cameras, fans, prying eyes. It couldn't be done.
So part of it was a conservative tactic, part of it was pissing me off.
But now I just feel guilty, like a little shit. So I write him a message asking him to tell me where he's going and then I'll join him. I force my faithful guardian angels to come with me, of course, but with them it's fine, I trust. I know they will be able to contain me if necessary and I know that at the right moment they will be able to leave me and give discretion if I need it.
I just don't want to fail in my duties, today is a special and different night and I don't know what to expect.
Surely Max will be completely drunk and I will end up drinking too much because it's normal, that's how it goes.
As soon as he sends me his position in real time, just this and no other message attached, I understand that he was disappointed that I didn't hug him before and congratulate him; this way I can feel even more like shit.
I sigh and shake my head.
The more I move according to the apparently senseless whims that are in reality my pursuit of Max's often moving position, the more I want to strangle him because he didn't give me an appointment at a fixed final destination. I understand that he has to get revenge, but making me wander around like an aimless idiot only makes me more nervous; also because every time I get to a point, then I see that he has already left and started moving again, so I act like a capricious idiot who drinks something and leaves. This, however, in addition to being a shitty spoiled asshole, makes me drunk sooner than I thought.
I wanted to see Max first and be clear while I was in front of him, to know what to do with him instead of finding myself doing it without control, but the longer the most idiotic night of my life goes on, the more I understand that perhaps it’s better not to meet him at the end of this search for treasure.
But God willing, or Max in this case, it seems that here the dot representing his position in my cell phone is always still. So the asshole is here and decided to stay here. Or at least to wait for me.
He likes it here. Wherever here is.
I turn around lost to understand where he might be, but I curse through gritted teeth with my head already clouded by the too many cocktails that accompanied my punishing journey.
I'm gone, I'll never understand where it is. In which of these several identical gigantic yachts is the idiot located?
I sigh impatiently, spinning around like an imbecile, when a scratchy, high-pitched voice calls me loudly from afar, I hear him amidst the music that comes from further away.
It feels like I'm in a schizophrenic delusion, whatever that is.
I turn around following his voice which might as well be a hallucination, given how much I'm longing for him. I could beat him, at the end of all.
However when I see him on the upper floors of a luxurious and not at all small yacht, not that there are any small ones here, I see that he’s the asshole calling me in the middle of a fundamentally public place.
He’s there leaning over the ledge, one hand near his mouth calling me with all the breath he has left after who knows how much alcohol he has in his system at this hour. Next to him another greets me who, if I'm not mistaken, is Lando. I assume Carlos will be with him and if I had to bet I think there will also be George and Alex in there somewhere.
Now explain to me why he didn't tell me straight away where he was going like he did with them, you damned imbecile.
Despite myself, I raise my fist to tell him that I saw him, I return the call with a greeting of my own, otherwise he won't stop letting know the world that we've found each other.
It must seem casual. It's the last rational thing on my mind. Then the fog begins to descend, taking the place of the adrenaline of the emotion of having finally found him.
I indicate to those with me that I have found where I want to stop and I go there, right there, in his damn yacht.
I feel my legs moving and I know that I'm going to him, I don't know what the others are doing, but my two angels definitely follow me and I trust them; for the rest as soon as I meet the idiot of my heart number one, they just have to leave me alone.
I have to tell him a couple of things before I congratulate, and I'm really at my limit. In the fog I still vaguely realize that I shouldn't do certain things with him, partly because we're around a lot of people, partly because he has to kiss me first.
So I know not to stick my tongue in his mouth. I know this.
I also hope to remember it when I see him.

As soon as I manage to catch up with him, which isn't exactly easy considering all the people I have to say hello to, having him in front of me makes me feel like a total idiot.
That's how I feel when I see his face lit up with a happy, goofy smile. He's completely drunk, I realize it right away, but he's so happy, so truly happy, that it's okay. Everything is okay. Even the chase he's been subjecting me to.
I hug him, my arms hiding my mouth which ends up kissing his ear and saying quickly and fleetingly: - Well done, baby! I'm so happy for you!
The "baby" escapes me and he hugs me so tightly right away that I know he must have really enjoyed it, but it could also have been my arms around his head or my mouth on his ear.
The fact is that we spread each other and just feeling hands on me, I realize we're overdoing it and I shake myself, melting immediately as if I'd burned myself.
Max wavers and remains unsteady for a moment, unsure why I pulled away so quickly, but as soon as my hands leave his shoulders, he sticks the straw of his gin and tonic into my mouth, forcing me to drink and holds it until I take a good swig.
- It’s about time you came! Are you lost? I even sent you the position! - sensing that he dares to scold me, I immediately get turned on and the daze brought on by finally finding him in front of me, fades away giving me back the desire to kill him. Which I would do if it weren't for the fact that, seeing how I'm about to bite him, he puts the straw back into my mouth, forcing me to drink the rest of his gin and tonic.
The - You imbecile. - dies in my throat as I’m saying it, but I think in this case my eyes are more expressive than my voice and that's enough.
What power he has. He's made me super expressive, but I think that's now something exclusive to him.
You idiot.
How dare you?
- You could have told me right away where you were ending the night! They knew! Instead of letting me chase you like that!
Of course I can't hold it and I say it while my glass is replaced by a full one, one just like it lands in his hand.
The guys with us laugh and Max isn't afraid to respond in kind and without filters because we're safe here with them; they all know about us.
- I would have told you when I told them. Because do you know when I told them? When they congratulated me in the parc ferme!
For a moment his eyes shine dangerously and combatively, ready to go from joy to argument with a snap of fingers, but the others laugh because they know the subtext. A subtext that doesn't need to be expressed.
Okay, he's right. I ran away because it burned like hell that he had won a World Cup before me. I acted like a child and I still have a long way to go to really grow up. If a few years ago I realized I was still 17, now I might be 19, but I'm still behind in my personal maturation.
What bullshit does my alcohol-filled brain produce?
Fuck it, let's drink some more before we spout off any more bullshit.
- All right, you're right. We'll talk about it later.
Max nods surprised that I admit he's right, but then he smiles again and a dance and electronic song from someone familiar comes on. When I see him laughing and bobbing his head in his signature dance routine that kills me, I see him turn to the DJ and only when I realize who he's waving his arms and winking at so happily, do I understand why the song was familiar.
- Martin Garrix, huh? You've got a really special DJ! - but the tone I'm using must be particularly sour, because as soon as I say it, Max turns around and stops smiling. His face is openly shocked and instead of toning down and hiding my outburst, I drink it in with a grimace of open and obvious jealousy.
I almost have a neon sign writing on my face, expressing my thoughts. Not that it helps. Apparently, Max has unlocked my emotions quite well. Too much, even. Definitely too much, but now I can't do anything about it. It's just like that.
It's your fault, you little bastard. Take your damn responsibility.
You gave me emotions and now I can't even manage or control them. They just come out of me spontaneously. Okay, maybe it's the alcohol's fault, but until now, without you, I've been very controlled; as soon as I had you in front of me, I took off without restraint.
Yeah, you'll have to take your responsibilities, just as I'll take mine.
You make me feel alive.
You are my emotions.”

NOTES: Abu Dhabi 2021 remains the defining moment in their relationship, especially Charles's incursion into Max's yacht party for his victory. I added that scene between Max and his father because it was very important, as well as for the simple fact that at a certain point the two actually did get together. It was a beautiful moment and you could see Max was very happy and moved, but I'm also sure that everything he went through as a child couldn't be forgotten with a great victory and kind words. But it's still just a fanfic, my invention. Now we have our two splendid creatures drunk together and they have only one task to complete: kiss. Will they finally make it? See you next time. Kisses, Akane