81. WE START FROM HERE

/Charles/

My playlists are cheerful, incredibly cheerful.
From a certain point on, I realize I find myself creating many new ones, and they're quite different from the ones I used to listen to, or rather… from the ones I've listened to since Jules died.
That's when my depression began. The sad music I listened to was a reflection of my mood, and I knew, I always told myself... as soon as I felt like changing musical genres, it meant I'd be better. That's how it’s now. I feel the need to change genres, to listen to something else, and not just in that sense, but in other things too. I feel the need for something new, for renewal. Until now, I've been sober in everything I do, even in my clothing style, but now I want to be more daring, to take a leap.
I like fashion, but until now I've limited myself to dressing simply and well, but now I find it fun to adapt my clothes to my mood. I've always admired Lewis and his extreme and exaggerated styles, not that I agree with them, but sometimes I do because in the amount of things he wears, sometimes I think certain clothes are fabulous, but I actually admire the fact that he dares. He dares to wear what he wants and doesn't try to fit in with the crowd so as not to be 'noticed,' so to speak.
Many of us famous people, to avoid being noticed, tend to disguise ourselves in some way, or blend in with the crowd; so if everyone dresses soberly and simply, they do too.
But Lewis doesn't care, he just walks around with bodyguards who keep people away from him, so he gets noticed three times more; and I don't know how he does if he wants to be invisible, maybe he doesn't leave the house, I don't know.
Anyway, regardless of everything, I admire him.
A while ago I had the idea of launching an eco-sustainable clothing brand. I'd like to get into the world of fashion, it would be great. I never thought it was possible, but what if it were? What if it were possible? I'd like to try.
If it weren't this, I'd like something else: I really need to do something. Something more than usual, something different. Not just like personal activities, but also various projects.
I also asked Andrea to integrate something else into my training program, something daily, to improve my athletic performance and feel fitter.
He started by getting me to go to the gym more and do more physical activity, then integrated a specific diet for athletes proposed by a renowned nutritionist, where I have to weigh everything and completely eliminate certain foods.
It's another new thing that keeps me somewhat engaged and that I know will be beneficial.
I know it's Max's fault, both because he won a world championship before me—and that eats away at me to the point of pushing me to improve myself at all costs—and because he and I are together now, and that makes me happy and enthusiastic and full of desire to live and achieve things.
Trying new things or embarking on various projects is a classic for those who are happy, but listening to the playlists I've made for myself, I realized that perhaps I've turned a corner. I've completed the personal journey I was trying to pursue by isolating myself, the one that made Max suffer so much.
The thought of having completed it and having come out of my depression and the fog I was in by dedicating myself to Max, from whom I escaped thinking I had to heal before I could be with him, is incredible.
Sometimes we're so convinced of something, but it's hard to understand that we actually don't know a damn thing.
I look at the piano keys in my apartment, the word 'love' composed of small red roses resting on the white lacquered wood; the white curtains are closed to provide some shade, given the sun that beats down particularly hard today here in Monte Carlo, and especially on this wall.
I'm wearing my typical attire when I'm composing something new or when I'm focused on something. A comfortable, crumpled T-shirt, a bandana tied around my head warrior-style.
I'm letting go, slowly letting go in every sense and way, even alone, as well as with others.
I'm melting.
I stare at the black and white keys that have become dear to me.
A while ago I played to understand what was inside me and how I was feeling, because sometimes you just don't realize it. Sometimes you don't know how you are, but you want to understand, and so there are ways. The piano is mine.
I don't consider myself skilled enough to play it at a high level, but the obsessive application with which I put myself, has made it at least decent and at least satisfying.
Day after day, I played random things that came from within; the pure and simple need to touch the keys, to feel the sound coming from them, a sound that was mine, of my soul.
It was always sad, heartbreaking and depressing.
What will I play now? What will come out, now that I'm with Max? Now that I've brought all this breath of renewal to my life and still have so much more to give?
I take a deep breath, close my eyes and begin.
I let my fingers slide as a melody is born, a new one, something I'd never heard inside me.
I try to produce it and as I stop and start several times, unconvinced, as if something were missing, I stop feeling sore and realizing I need to go to the bathroom and get a drink.
Wow, I've been here for hours, and I probably have a thousand calls and messages on my phone.
A couple of minutes, half an hour at most, I told myself.
It must be two hours!
The melody isn't complete, it's missing something. I have a couple like that. Half-finished melodies, suspended here inside me, waiting to be completed.
I play it one last time, purposely ignoring the phone and try to pay attention.
It's not bad. It's not sad or heartbreaking.
It's almost romantic, maybe sweet. There. Sweet, I think is the right word.
Full of anticipation, or maybe that's what I feel when I play it.
I was thinking of Max before, when I was doing it for the first time; of this new season that's about to begin. In a few days we start again with Bahrain, but we'll be a couple, Max and I.
It'll be strange. It'll be different. I'll be. In fact, I already am. And he will be too. We'll be towards each other, although maybe not as much as we think, because I think we've been together for a while without realizing it.
I was thinking about this and this melody, missing something, came out, not sad, not depressed, but sweet and light. Like the beginning of something new. Or at least that's how I see it.
That's how he makes me feel.
Light, happy, eager for novelties.
Next week I'll start doing something I've always done again, but I'll do it differently because I am now. I can't say how, perhaps relaxed, perhaps free. I'm opening up a box where I hid certain things about myself that I didn't even know I had, passions I was ashamed of, desires and dreams.
This diet for athletes, in which so many things are forbidden, makes me wonder if it were possible to create something suitable despite being forbidden. Ice cream, for example, or another food forbidden to athletes. Create a version that makes it suitable for them instead.
A line of eco-sustainable clothing, things that have something different from what's already there, even just one element.
And there are definitely other things I'd like to do that perhaps I don't even know about yet. Maybe one day I'll record an album of piano songs.
It's as if Max took off that lid and opened the box. I don't think that was his intention, and he certainly didn't realize it, but I'm filled with desire. Desire to do things I don't know yet, but I'll discover. I'll look into that box slowly and discover what I want to do, and I'll do it, why not? Or at least I'll try. And if I don't succeed, I'll move on to something else, but I won't deprive myself anymore out of prejudice, because it's difficult, it's strange, it's complicated, it's out of my reach.
I climb icy mountains and I've teamed up with Max. I can do anything, or at least try.
It was Max somehow, he didn't do it intentionally, he 'simply' came into my life.
He 'simply' became my boyfriend and he 'simply' made me happy. It's only the beginning and surely once the championship starts, I'll understand how difficult it is to be together, be drivers and famous people, and yet each have different private lives. It's all just beginning and we can't even really understand how much more complicated our lives can become, but right now all I see is this beautiful sun filtering through the closed white curtains. A sun that, despite having shut it out so as not to be blinded, I see it and it makes me smile.
I get up, stretching and yawning, to go open them and as soon as the sun blinds me, dazing me for a moment, a brilliant idea strikes me.
An idea that involves Max, obviously, and the first stage of F1!
An idea that I won't just share with him and propose to him, but I will impose it because it's simply brilliant, and if it's brilliant, it's brilliant!

After quickly showering and putting on the outfit that best suits my cheerful and enthusiastic mood, I rush out the door even deigning to text him to let him know I'm coming. It'd be best for him not to tell me that he’s with Kelly and P that I disintegrate him.
I might take it badly. I still haven't figured out how to handle Kelly; we've talked about it a bit, but he sees very simply. Kelly is the perfect cover right now. But the fact that it started because he was looking for a woman he could feel "normal" with, means he simply liked her. Probably not as much as I do, but enough to try to forget me with her.
That's why I'm a little hesitant and confused about her, but he doesn't seem worried, so in the end I'll give him credit and see how it goes.
So far, he's never denied me anything "for Kelly and P," his new happy family of which I'm not a part and of which I'm damn jealous, so let's just say he's handling everything well. Actually, everyone. He's good, I give him that, but if he were to have difficulties, I don't know how I'd take it; I'm a little scared. With the new Championship actually starting, having less time for himself will necessarily mean he'll have less time for the other people in his life, including girlfriends and lovers.
He always tells me I have Charlotte too, but for me it's different; she's always been there just to have a girl nearby, a cover, basically. She's never expected anything special from me because I've never given it to her; I've always been distant and unaffectionate. I think she's figured out on her own that I just need a girl by my side to show off at certain moments, someone who can fill that role, basically.
I don't think a girl would complain about that, anyway. Being the official girlfriend of a famous driver isn't such a bad thing, I think, even if that driver is starved of attention and affection. She can leave if she gets bored, anyway. 

I rush into his house, hugging him after a quick, light: - Hey, baby! - ending with an enthusiastic kiss on the mouth, still wrapped up in my wonderful idea. He greets me with an amused smile, a little stunned by the "baby" I've been calling him lately, usually when I'm overly enthusiastic or particularly uninhibited; in general, I don't think he's used to this version of me, but neither am I. It's not intentional, it comes naturally, and finally, in my life, I don't think about what's best to do or not do, or say or not say. I do and say what I want, especially with him, of course. I'm completely myself.
- Hey, baby! - he echoes, giggling as I walk in looking around, reminding myself with a comical second thought that he could have been with someone. Kelly and little P, for example.
When I do, Max bursts out laughing.
- First, kiss me, and then check to see if we're alone?
I don't even have a comment, I should say 'trust is good, not trusting is better', but we'd argue like a couple of idiots and I have to make him my brilliant proposal, which I remember after dutifully greeted Jimmy and Sassy, his two Bengals. He had to repeat it to me ten times before I understood the breed of his cats, now to remember it I imagine rockets shooting into the sky and that's how I remember the breed of his sacred cats. In the meantime, they've become fond of me.
- I check out of habit, but I knew you were alone! - I reply then letting go of the two felines who have come towards me.
- Of course, ‘I'm arriving, just be alone' didn't leave much room!
I'd call him argumentative if I hadn't just now realized that maybe he's right, but there's no point in telling him that. I simply chuckle in amusement and put my arms around his shoulders, hugging him. As soon as I do this with a sly air, like someone who knows he's guilty of the bullying he's accustomed to, Max relaxes and puts his hands around my waist, slipping his hands into the back pockets of my particularly imaginative pants, just like I am today.
- I thought you didn't mind me being a bully! - I murmur, mimicking his cats purring just to get something in return, like food at the time they want.
Max, still smiling amusedly, licks his lips anticipating what happens next.
- Depends on why you're bullying... will I like it? - at this, my face lights up as if someone had put a plug in me; he's struck by this sudden change from pimp to child in toyland.
- Let’s leave tomorrow instead of next week! Let's spend a few more days alone, a little vacation together before we start! Lots of people do it; I know Seb and Lewis often go a few days before the GPs to be alone!
- Wow, you know so much for someone who's the reason Seb got kicked out of Ferrari!
His gratuitous nastiness makes me want to kick him in the balls, but I just slap him on the back of the head, wherever my hands reach. A gesture that makes him laugh.
- Do you want to spend a few days with me in Manama, or should I go with Jo and Andrea? I have no problem with that, you know, but it seemed like a great idea! You even have a private jet, it's perfect! Just book a different hotel than the one we're going to for the F1 with the other drivers and it'll be perfect! A few days for ourselves without publicity or telling anyone! - my tone comes out more bitter and piqued than I intended, obviously, but I can't control it anymore. Not with him. It's his fault, he did everything he could to bring out the real Charles and... surprise! He's unbearable!
At this point Max laughs and lets me know that, despite being intoxicated by this sudden new version of me, he's also happy and fascinated. He shrugs and nods, kissing me to reassure me and make me sheathe the weapons I was ready to point at him to force him to comply.
- Of course I'm happy about that! It's a wonderful idea! I never imagined you'd be spending your time alone figuring out how to reunite you with me!
Max teases me, but since he's just accepted my wonderful idea, which suggests a fantastic championship where the two of us can take a few days off before the racing weeks, which for us drivers usually start between Wednesday and Thursday, I don't retort and wrap my arms around his head to hug him instead of suffocating him. My lips do the same on his, kissing him instead of biting him like I wanted, and we're happy.
We're fucking happy.
Until his phone rings and he sees the caller's name out of the corner of his eye. When he curses through gritted teeth, I feel him completely stiffen.
At this I separate myself from his face and look at him. He raises his wrist with the Smart Watch which he can use to see who's calling, as well as answer, and waves his father's name at me with a bitter, hallucinated expression.
As soon as I read it, a strange thought crosses my mind.
Here we are. I wanted to slip into his world to see the real Max and help him?
We start from here.”

/Max/

“The first thing I see are his pants, those are the thing that really shocks me. Up until now Charles in civilian clothes was pretty normal, sporty and comfortable clothing that suited him well, maybe some sexy glasses just to disguise himself and not out of real need, but nothing so flashy and weird.
These are apparently ripped jeans that are short at the ankles, but they have side zippers that open up a red fabric that looks like a punch in the eye.
They are the most hideous thing I have ever seen on this Earth and they look terrible on him because Charles looks good in so many things, from the elegant suit I've seen him wear a few times at galas, to sporty and baggy clothes, but these pants, damn it, just not.
But since they’re part of a journey that I think has just resulted in his maximum expression of freedom, I'm happy that he felt like dressing up like this. It means he's fine, he's truly fine and that he's being himself, at least with me.
When he dresses like this in public too, I'll know he's finally out of his depression.
This is combined with his euphoric and fiery attitude, which overwhelms me and makes me laugh. I welcome him gladly, hold him close, enjoy his wonderfully firm and more toned butt than usual. He's been working out hard at the gym lately, and I accept whatever he hands out to me.
I tease him a little having fun, until he finally tells me his idea of spending a couple of days alone, beating everyone else to Manama, where we'll be having the first stage of the season next week.
He's so eager to be with me outside of competitions that he'd do anything; it's an intoxicating and wonderful feeling and I let myself be completely carried away, immediately accepting with pleasure.
I'm happy.
In this moment, as he wraps his arms around my neck and presses his mouth to mine, conveying his enormous joy for this little short-term project as a couple, he makes me feel happier than ever.
It's a different happiness than when we got together and then consolidated and defined the new concept of "us."
Now it's a truly new path and we're just starting to experience it, and maybe I wasn't expecting it, because I've learned that I can expect anything from him, but I can only be ready for anything. The real Charles, the one he kept locked away beneath his depression and sadness, is spectacular. Exuberant, proactive, imaginative and full of desire to do things, to live and, above all, to be with me.
I'm infected by this joy and I don't want it to fade away or fade away. I want it to stay forever. It's what I needed, what I wanted.
This positive and contagious joy all mine, of which I absurdly feel the protagonist.
I've always been the target of anger and commands, but now I'm the object of his happiness, as well as his desire. It's something different from what I've always experienced.
Charles needs me, he wants me, he wants me in his life because only with me he’s truly happy and so wonderfully positive.
So as soon as my phone rings, I'm intoxicated by him and so absorbed that while I glance half-open at the smartwatch on my wrist, I do it more out of habit than anything else. But as soon as I see his name, my father's name, everything shuts down and freezes.
It's an instant, it happens beyond my control and my will.
I didn't want to ruin everything; it's just my father with his usual shitty timing, it's nothing. We've even sorted things out between us a bit thanks to my World Cup victory.
But I read his name and I get tense, and he senses it. He feels it so much that he stops kissing me and scrutinizes me intently, and as soon as his green eyes fix me questioningly, I feel more naked than I've ever been.
I've never looked at myself in the mirror because I've never liked myself. I know perfectly well my flaws and I know I hate them enough not to look at them.
But now, in front of Charles's gaze, I just felt naked. I have nothing left to cover me and I can't help but look and see.
And what I see makes me sick more than I ever thought. I'm much worse than I believed.
That's how I feel now, in front of his attentive and penetrating gaze, the gaze of someone who truly wants to understand what's underneath, deep down here.
Don't look, Charles, or you might be disgusted and run away. I'm not beautiful, neither inside nor out. I don't know why you like me so much and want to be with me; in your place, I'd run away from myself. If you ever see me for real and in full, I'm sure you'll leave. Because I'm nothing special, quite the opposite. I'm pathetic.
That's how I feel in an instant as I realize I'm about to talk to my father in front of Charles, a Charles who's staring at me with a kind of solemn intent and a desire to see the real Max.
I understand it here, standing in his arms. It's a moment, but I have no doubt it's true.
It's just that if I didn't answer, it would be worse the next time; he'd say all sorts of things to me because I didn't answer, and I can make up any excuse I want, but I have to at least tell him, 'Dad, I can't right now.'
Or maybe it's just a habit. One of those bad ones, hard to break.
When I answer using the Smart Watch, I try to slip out of his arms; I'm still tense. I tell myself that everything with dad is okay now, but I act like it isn't and he won't let go. He won't let me go.
Charles uses all his renewed strength to hold me close and even tries to look me in the face while I answer, but I hide from his view by moving my face over his shoulder so he can't see me. He'll already hear, and that's more than enough.
I don't notice the mirror at the entrance that he uses to partially observe my face. I'm too focused on yet another conversation with my dad.
His voice comes out of the Smart Watch on speakerphone, so Charles can hear it too, but so as not to be overheard, he's staying quiet and not even saying a word.
I hold him tighter, I do it instinctively without realizing it; but in doing so I feel calmer, even though my dad's voice has never brought me anything positive.
There are never any pleasantries with him, he never asks how I am or what I'm doing. He always calls for a specific reason which he shoots immediately, barely saying hello.
His naturally arrogant voice comes out, even though I recognize the tone; at the moment, he's calm.
- Are you getting ready?
I know for what.
- Yes, of course.
I don't like talking to him in front of Charles. I've never done it in front of anyone, to be honest. He's the first person I've ever done it in front of using the speakerphone, letting him hear everything openly. But luckily, dad and I always speak Dutch, so Charles can only hear our tones.
Maybe that's enough for him anyway.
- Why are you so hasty? Is something wrong? Have you done another one of your shits?
I snort, I can't control this unconditioned reflex of mine. I've never controlled it. Even gripped by the holy terror of him as a child, I've always snorted because, in reality, part of me is rebellious, while the other is simply accustomed and overwhelmed by him.
- No, dad, it's just that I was doing something else and I don't have time to talk to you!
Charles hugs me hearing my argumentative tone, and that gives me the strength to stand firm.
We solved, now I've won the fucking World Cup, we cried together, we hugged, he apologized or something like that, something that to me felt like an apology even if maybe it wasn't really one. Maybe I wanted to experience it like that out of need, but in reality it was just stupid, pathetic justifications.
And maybe that's why I'm still mad at him and no, damn it. No, he and I haven't fixed everything. No, everything isn't okay.
I realize that from what he says afterwards.
- You think winning a world championship means anything? You won it thanks to a broken rule, thanks to someone who's now losing his job! If it weren't for him not following the rules at that moment in that race, you wouldn't have won a title, you know! So in your place, I wouldn't feel like a winner, just someone who has to start over again! So let's stop acting like a braggarts and tell me what the hell you're doing to prepare for the new season!
He knows that the preparation started long before now. It's not about the practical things you do in the weeks leading up to the start, it's about mental preparation.
I sigh deeply and squeeze my eyes shut, pressing my fingers into them, my other hand clutching Charles's extroverted sweatshirt as if I were going to rip it off.
I didn't mean for it to be like this. I didn't want to appear so pitiful, delusional and pathetic.
But I can't. Because I fooled myself into thinking it was finally over. I believed it so much, but no. It's not over. It couldn't have been otherwise.
- Nothing, dad, the usual stuff. What the fuck do you want me to do?
But my tongue is always out of control, I can never say what I know I should say. Because I know what can calm him down and what can trigger him, and guess what my damned tongue chooses?
Always the wrong one.”

NOTE: Charles officially concludes his personal journey by placing him in that splendid, positive and cheerful version that the world now knows. In reality, there's a clear change in his character and mannerisms compared to the Charles who had just arrived in F1; in the first seasons, he was very rigid and closed, almost sad. But at a certain point, he opened up a lot, not only in his character and mannerisms, but also in the way he dressed and the projects he embarked on; he showed many interests. I wanted to use all this to put a sort of full stop on his personal journey. The new, positive Charles has arrived.
For Max, however, the journey never really began, because he's not a thoughtful person, but someone who suffocates, ignores and then explodes badly, so now that he has Charles by his side, who is the complete opposite in this sense, he’ll force him to no longer ignore the things that hurt him and to begin a journey of liberation that won't be easy and quick to complete.
Happy reading. Kisses, Akane