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leclerqueensainz · 7 months

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Uma Família de Três (C.L 16)

Part. VI — O Sol, a Tempestade e o nosso Arco-íris.

⚠️Avisos: Angústia, Embriaguês e Tabagismo.

Palavras: 4.170.

Aproveitem a leitura!

🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸

18 de outubro de 2018 —Texas, EUA

O barulho de risadas enchem o bar do hotel, há uma melodia alegre sendo tocada no piano por um dos hóspedes bêbados, vozes estridentes e altas ecoando e tentando se sobressair acima das notas do piano.

Eu continuo observando as interações felizes das pessoas ao meu redor, por um momento sentindo inveja de toda a diversão que sentem. Um som amargo escapa do fundo da minha garganta quando me dou conta do sentimento feio que estou deixando tomar conta de mim.

Virando para frente em direção ao balcão do bar, pego o copo de vidro redondo e viro de uma vez todo o líquido transparente que queima a minha garganta. Bato o copo contra o granito frio do balcão e levanto a mão para o barman, pedindo outra rodada. Pelo canto de olho posso ver a careta de desgosto que Jules faz enquanto observa toda a cena com os braços cruzados.

— Você não precisa ficar aqui se não quiser, não me lembro de ter pedido por um babá. — Digo sem olha-lo.

O barman escorrega um novo copo cheio com a cura para os meus tormentos e eu não demoro em derrubar mais um pouco do líquido ardente pela minha garganta.

— Eu poderia facilmente acreditar nisso se não fosse pelo fato de estar vendo você virar o quarto copo em menos de quinze minutos. — Jules diz e paga o copo da minha mão, me fazendo encara-lo com olhos raivosos. — Jesus, Marie! Que merda é essa? Absinto? — Ele faz uma careta e põe a língua para fora após dar um pequeno gole.

— Eu preciso de algo forte esta noite. — Dou de ombros para ele e seus olhos escuros me fitam por um segundo antes que se revirem.

Jules não diz mais nada, apenas fecha os olhos e vira o restante do conteúdo do copo de uma vez. A careta que adorna suas feições quase que me faz rir, porém a sensação de desconforto no meu peito ainda é forte demais para qualquer demonstração que não seja de raiva e tristeza.

— Ele ainda está no quarto? — Pergunto a Jules e ele nega com a cabeça.

— Ele saiu com Pierre. — Responde e eu aceno em compreensão.

É claro que ele iria sair com Pierre depois da discussão horrível que tivemos. Afinal, eu sou a trouxa que afoga as mágoas em absinto. E ele... bem, ele é o cara que sai com o melhor amigo e provavelmente vai comer alguma vagabunda que se jogar em cima dele. Solto uma risada quando penso que não será qualquer vagabunda, mas sim ela.

Jules me encara de canto e eu sei que ele sabe exatamente o que acabei de pensar.

— Ela não está junto, Marie. — Ele diz e eu dou de ombros.

— Bem, não é mais da minha conta de qualquer maneira, não é? — Eu digo e ele nega com a cabeça em aborrecimento, mas opta pelo silêncio. Ótimo, cale a boca e me deixe beber.

Giro novamente a minha banqueta e volto a observar os outros hóspedes. Meu corpo queima de ansiedade em pedir mais uma bebida, ou até mesmo ir até o fumódromo e ascender um cigarro. A paz que sei que a nicotina me traria agora, faz com que eu morda os lábios em excitação.

— Vou até o fumódromo. — Digo pulando da minha banqueta, agarrando rapidamente o balcão quando sinto tudo ao meu redor girar.

Em um piscar de olhos, Jules está ao meu lado me segurando fortemente pela cintura para que eu não me desequilibre e parta a cara no chão.

— Ei, ei, vá devagar! — Ele diz e sinto sua mão puxar a bainha do meu vestido para baixo. — Ninguém precisa ver mais do que seria aconselhável para um lugar público. — Um sorriso puxa seus lábios e eu o espelho.

— Obrigado. — Digo e ele acena com a cabeça.

Caminhamos lentamente até a área aberta para fumo ao lado do bar, Jules ao meu lado com seu braço ao redor da minha cintura, para se certificar que eu terei equilíbrio o suficiente até nos sentarmos em um banco de madeira ao lado do cinzeiro.

Incrivelmente a ala de fumantes está vazia, o que me deixa um pouco mais relaxada para puxar o maço e o esqueiro da pequena bolsa que carrego. Jules apenas observa cada movimento que eu faço desde abrir a embalagem, puxar um dos filtros brancos, colocar entre os lábios e ascende-lo com o esqueiro. Ele permanece quieto e eu sei que ele está se revirando de desconforto por dentro. Fumar é uma das coisas que mais irritam Jules. Maconha uma vez ou outra não o deixava tão estressado, mas cigarros? Tsc! Ele odiava profundamente. Mas hoje, parece ser mais uma das coisas que ele está me liberando fazer sem me dar um sermão de cinco horas sobre como eu provavelmente morrerei de câncer de pulmão aos 45 anos.

Eu aprecio a breve sensação de paz que atravessa o meu corpo com a primeira tragada e seguro a fumaça em meus pulmões um pouco mais de tempo apenas para tentar absorver um pouco mais da calmaria no meu sistema. O silêncio que nos envolve, apesar de ainda ser possível ouvir as vozes e música que vazam de dentro do bar, é reconfortante e eu não sinto a necessidade de quebrar aquele momento. Dou mais algumas tragadas, prendendo e soltando a fumaça, me concentrando em tentar reorganizar meus pensamentos. Algumas imagens dos acontecimentos de mais cedo rondando meu cérebro.

O silêncio permanece por mais um tempo antes que Jules seja o primeiro a quebra-lo.

— Ele não fez. — Ele diz e eu me viro para ele, encarando o seu perfil.

Eu sei perfeitamente sobre o que ele está falando, mas me recuso a emitir qualquer som, dou mais uma tragada.

— Ele não fez, Marie. — Ele tenta novamente, desta vez me encarando como se esperasse uma resposta minha. Eu dou de ombros. — Eu sei que te machuca, sei que você não quer ouvir nada sobre isso agora, mas penso que você precisa ouvir isso. — Ele finaliza ainda me encarando, esperando qualquer reação.

Mais uma tragada. Mais um aperto no peito. Eu desvio meu olhar do de Jules e volto a encarar o arbusto do outro lado.

— Você tem razão. — Eu respondo após alguns segundos. — Eu não quero ouvir nada disso agora. — Digo jogando a bituca no cinzeiro e puxando outro cigarro do maço.

Mesmo não olhando para Jules, sei que há preocupação em seus olhos.

— Ele te ama, Marie. As coisas só estão muito confusas para ele agora. — Eu solto a fumaça com raiva pelo rumo daquela conversa.

— Sabe, se você quer tanto defender Charles, você deveria mandar uma mensagem para Pierre e perguntar a onde eles estão e ir até eles. — Digo mais áspera do que gostaria. — Pela última vez, Jules, eu não preciso de um babá. — O encaro séria e ele acena com a cabeça, mas permanece sentado ao meu lado.

— Então é isso o que você vai fazer? Se embebedar e fumar um maço de cigarros todas as noites? — Ele pergunta e eu reviro os meus olhos para ele e volto meu olhar para o arbusto.

— Não será todas as noites. — Digo entre dentes. — Mas mesmo se fosse, não seria da sua conta. — tento dar um ponto final naquela conversa, mas eu já deveria saber que Jules não deixaria o assunto morrer tão facilmente.

E quando ele se senta de lado no banco, com o corpo totalmente virado para mim eu sei exatamente o que aquilo significa. E eu quero gritar.

— Você está totalmente enganada. Isso é da minha conta, tudo que se trata sobre você e Charles é da minha conta. — Ele responde tentando manter a calma em sua voz.

— Oh me desculpa! Eu devo ter esquecido a parte em que viramos um trisal e você começou a fazer parte deste relacionamento. — Dou mais uma tragada no meu cigarro e pelo canto dos olhos posso ver a irritação no olhar de Jules. — Me conta novamente como isso ocorreu, Jules? Acredito que meu cérebro bêbado de absinto me fez esquecer totalmente como era a sensação de ser fodida por você e pelo Charles todas as noites. — Digo me virando totalmente para ele.

O rosto de Jules está vermelho e eu não sei se é de raiva ou de vergonha e sinceramente não me importo no momento, só queria voltar para os meus cigarros e para o silêncio.

— Sabe, você está bêbada agora e nada que me disser eu vou levar para o lado pessoal, então pode atacar. — Ele diz com uma voz suave e isso só me irrita ainda mais.

— Obrigada, senhor "Sou superior a tudo isso". — Falo sarcástica e volto a focar somente no meu cigarro. Jules não diz mais nada.

Passamos os próximos 40 minutos sentados ali, e depois do meus 6° cigarro, meu corpo começa a dar sinal de rejeição a quantidade excessiva de nicotina e álcool no meu organismo, me causando ânsia de vomito. Engulo em seco e tento focar apenas em não morrer ali na frente de Jules. Deus me livre dar a ele a satisfação de que estava certo.

— Se você já acabou, podemos ir para o quarto agora? — Ele pergunta baixo e eu dou de ombros.

— Não vou voltar para o quarto de Charles e não há mais vagas disponíveis aqui. Vou pegar um uber e parar em qualquer lugar que eu achar. — Digo evitando o seu rosto, o constrangimento de estar literalmente sem saber para aonde ir fazendo meu estomago dar uma revirada ainda maior.

— Obvio que você vai ficar comigo no meu quarto. — Ele diz e eu o encaro. A expressão em seu rosto dizendo "Eu não quero brigar, mas se for necessário eu irei."

Eu apenas assinto com a cabeça, sem vontade nenhuma de discutir e não que eu tivesse alguma escolha. Entre passar a noite no quarto de hotel do meu melhor amigo ou entrar bêbada em um uber e pedir para ele parar em qualquer lugar com vagas para que eu possa dormir, é obvio que escolho Jules. Estamos no Texas, pelo amor de deus! O que eu menos preciso agora é virar uma história de True Crime.

Jules me lança um sorriso de "eu sei que tenho razão" E por um momento eu repenso na possibilidade de virar um caso de True Crime só para não ter que ver o seu rosto convencido.

O caminho até o elevador é lento, comigo apoiando a maior parte do meu peso em Jules.

Jules aperta o botão do elevador e quando as portas metálicas se abrem ele me guia para dentro.

O elevador não é pequeno, mas mesmo assim Jules fica de frente para mim após apertar o botão para o andar do quarto onde está hospedado.

O cheiro emadeirado do seu perfume Armani é parecido com o de Charles e preenche todo o elevador. Fecho meus olhos tentando afastar quaisquer pensamentos sobre ele. Eu não quero pensar nele, não quero lembrar de momentos com ele, não quero sentir o cheiro dele.

— Você está bem? — Jules se aproxima ainda mais de mim e sinto sua mão afastar algumas mechas do meu cabelo do meu rosto. — Você está suando. — Ele diz baixo, seu sotaque francês carregado de preocupação. Tão parecido com ele.

Meu corpo estremecesse com o pensamento dele. Eu o quero. Quero Charles. Quero amá-lo e quero que ele me ame. Mas ele não o faz. Ele não me ama, pelo menos não mais. Ele ama ela. Ele escolheu ela. Ele faria com ela tudo que um dia fez e disse que faria comigo? Meu coração grita, minha garganta arranha. Eu não quero pensar em Charles. Eu não quero desejar Charles. Seu toque, sua voz, seu olhar, seu cheiro... Eu respiro fundo absorvendo o cheiro que me cerca. Vocês tinham que usar o mesmo perfume?

— Marie... — A voz de Jules chama por mim, mas minha mente confusa a deixa em segundo plano. Será mesmo Jules? Este é Jules? — Querida, você está bem?

O meu coração puxa com a lembrança de semanas atrás. Nós dois em seu apartamento, os beijos, os toques, nossas peles se roçando uma na outra, o suor, a temperatura... "Querida, você está bem?" A voz de Charles está ofegante, seus cabelos suados grudando em sua testa, os olhos verdes quase sendo engolidos pela pupila dilatada em luxúria. Em prazer. Prazer de estar comigo, prazer em estar dentro de mim, em me sentir, em me ouvir gemer seu nome. Lindo. Absolutamente lindo. "Eu te amo", eu digo e ele sorri preguiçosamente. "Eu te amo para sempre", ele responde.

Eu abro meus olhos, sinto eles encherem de água. Vai embora dor, vai embora e me deixa em paz.

Minha visão fica turva pelas lágrimas, mas eu ainda posso ver a sombra de olhos escuros me encarando. Há um silêncio, um silêncio na minha mente e um entorpecimento no meu corpo. Não! Eu quero sentir! Eu preciso sentir, preciso sentir qualquer coisa.

O vazio começa a se espalhar por mim. Ele é denso e escuro e eu posso senti-lo das pontas dos dedos e formiga. É quieto, mas não é aconchegante. É assustador. É frio.

— Marie, fala comigo, por favor... — A voz dele está tão distante. O francês tão alto e o cheiro tão, tão forte.

Eu preciso sentir, eu preciso sentir algo.

Eu pisco com força repetidas vezes até que as lágrimas saiam dos meus olhos e escorram pelo meu rosto. Agora vejo Jules. Menos turvo, consigo ver Jules. Ele está aqui. Ele vai me ajudar e o vazio não vai me dominar.

Eu seguro nos ombros de Jules, olho em seus olhos preocupados, ele é tão bonito. Tão diferente, mas tão igual a Charles. Charles... O vazio grita novamente, se alastrando por minha corrente sanguínea, tomando tudo para ele. Não! Eu quero sentir! Eu quero sentir!

Então encaro Jules novamente e sei que eu preciso, que ele vai me ajudar a escapar. Minhas mãos vão para seus ombros, eu os aperto, eu os sinto. O vazio para, mas ainda está lá. Jules me encara apreensivo. Foda-se!

Eu fecho os olhos, eu me inclino e eu o beijo. O vazio para.

Plin! O elevador chega no andar, as portas se abrem, eu me afasto de Jules e olho em direção ao corredor. Há olhos verdes me encarando.

30 de janeiro de 2023 — Monte Carlo, Mônaco.

Um peso de duas toneladas ao redor do meu peito, parece que

Acabou de cair de uma altura de vinte andares

Se já teve alguém que passou por essa vida

Com o seu coração ainda intacto, ele não viveu direito

A última vez que senti o seu peso no meu peito, você disse

Não demos certo, mas, amor, nós fizemos nosso melhor. — All the things end, Hozier

Há uma nuvem cinza sob o céu de Monte Carlo. A nuvem é pesada e faz com que os pedestres nas ruas corram à procura de um abrigo, antes de serem engolidos pela chuva.

Sempre vi beleza em dias nublados e chuvosos. Sempre vi beleza na melancolia trazida pela chuva. Enquanto as pessoas tendem a pedir por dias ensolarados e quentes, eu costumo pedir pelos dias molhados e gélidos. Eu nunca entendi ao certo o porquê da minha fascinação pela chuva, mas me recordo que ela sempre esteve comigo. Há algo de belo no indesejado. Algo mágico e real.

Jules sempre dizia que Charles e eu eramos um arco-iris. Charles com o seu brilho e calor como o sol, iluminava e aquecia quaisquer lugares onde pisava. Trazia alegria e esperança a quem precisava, e sua persistência sempre nos fez acreditar ressurgiria no dia seguinte ainda mais forte. Mas às vezes, era tão intenso a ponto de machucar e queimar. Causava grandes incêndios que poderiam ser irreparáveis. Por muito tempo a intensidade poderia ser demais. O brilho poderia cegar a quem o admirasse mais do que o necessário, além de se tornar totalmente dependente dele para se ter dias felizes. Assim como o sol, Charles não poderia ficar sozinho, pois o que seria algo para se apreciar, logo se tornaria algo totalmente destrutível.

E enquanto a mim, ele dizia: “Você é como a chuva, Marie. Você é vida para aqueles que se permitem apreciar. É o que traz equilíbrio para as pessoas ao seu redor. Mas também pode vir em forma de garoa que adoece, ou tempestade que destrói. Sua intensidade pode causar um dilúvio. Entretanto, pode ser um banho de chuva em uma tarde de verão.

Entre uma brincadeira de crianças e um furacão. É assim que é definido o seu amor.

O cinza te persegue, a melancolia te atrai. Porém, em você, conseguimos sentir paz tanto nos dias agitados, como nos calmos. Nem todos entendem a sua importância, até que se passe muitos dias sem você.”

Eu encaro as ruas através dos vidros das janelas do apartamento de Charles. O silêncio envolve todo o lugar desde que Charles se ofereceu para colocar Vincenzo na cama após o jantar.

As primeiras gotas começam a cair sobre a cidade, molhando tudo o que alcançam. Não posso deixar de pensar que assim como à água penetra sobre os quilômetros de concreto, deixei que meus sentimentos penetrassem a minha alma e me tornei como um rio corrente prestes a transbordar.

Passei os últimos anos tentando me encontrar e me ver sem o sol. Tentei apoderar da minha tempestade para que eu pudesse me reerguer, mas acontece que não podemos simplesmente construir um novo edifício em cima de um cemitério sem que sejamos assombrados pelas lembranças.

Como uma tatuagem marcada além da pele, minhas memórias com Jules e Charles sempre estarão presentes. Uma cicatriz que doeu para aparecer ali, mas toda vez que me lembro de como ela surgiu, o meu rio corre e cai em uma cachoeira de amor.

— Você teria mudado algo? — Levo um susto com a presença repentina de Charles ao me lado.

— A quanto tempo você está aqui? — Pergunto encarando seu perfil já que ele observa a vista pela janela.

— Não há muito tempo. — Da de ombros. — Desculpe, não queria assusta-la. — Me fita e sou eu quem volto a minha visão para a cidade lá fora.

— Tudo bem. — Respondo.

— Então… você mudaria algo? — Ele volta a perguntar.

— Sobre o quê? — Pergunto ainda sem encara-lo.

— Sobre nós dois. Quer dizer, sobre tudo que nos aconteceu. — Ele responde e meu interior se retorce em desespero pelo rumo que a conversa poderá tomar a partir daqui.

Parte de mim, fica aliviada em ouvir a sua voz depois de todo o tempo em silêncio durante o jantar. Porém, há outra parte que implora para que ele fique calado, pois, será inevitável que um de nós não saía machucados de quaisquer palavras que possam surgir agora.

Sua pergunta é simples. Entretanto, a resposta é mais complexa do que eu gostaria. Eu mudaria algo?

Sinto-me encurralada, pois sei que se minha resposta for sim, significa que me arrependo de algo sobre nós. Eu me arrependo?

Eu paro para pensar em todos os eventos que me trouxeram até este momento. Cada sorriso, cada lágrima. Cada sussurro e cada grito. Cada "Eu te amo” e cada "Sinto sua falta”. Cada verdade e cada mentira. Cada viagem, cada momento de Charles, Jules e eu juntos. Cada alegria e cada devastação após nos perdermos. Cada abraço, cada beijo, cada aventura, cada colapso, cada realização e cada perda. Cada vida e cada morte. Eu penso em tudo o que consigo pensar, e no final só há uma resposta sincera que eu possa dar para Charles.

— Sim. — Respondo.

Não olho para Charles, mas posso sentir seu olhar queimando sobre o meu perfil. Um minuto de silêncio é o que ele permite que caia sobre nós para refletirmos sobre minha resposta.

— O que você mudaria? — Ele pergunta.

Outra pergunta simples com uma resposta complexa. O que exatamente eu mudaria? Teria escolhido não me aproximar do garoto magrelo e com olhos lindos e nem do seu amigo, bizarramente 8 anos mais velho que ele? Não. A resposta para isso com certeza é um não. Eu jamais poderia me arrepender dos momentos vividos ao lado de Charles e Jules. Eles mudaram a minha vida, minha perspectiva e pela primeira vez me mostram que estaria tudo bem sonhar e se deixar levar.

Então do que eu me arrependo? Talvez de ter me apaixonado pelo idiota desajeitado que era Charles Leclerc com 16 anos? Talvez de ter me permitido ser puxada demais para perto do sol a ponto de me deixar queimar e desintegrar? De ficar girando em sua órbita como um planeta em seu sistema? De ter o admirado por muito tempo e simplesmente ter ficado cega pelo seu brilho a ponto de achar que qualquer dia sem ele, talvez não fosse um bom dia? Ou de ter criado um planeta inteiro dentro de mim, onde o seu calor seria necessário para que houvesse vida dentro do meu coração?

“Entre uma brincadeira de criança e um furacão. É assim que é definido o seu amor.” Penso novamente nas palavras de Jules.

Charles e eu eramos um arco-iris. Eramos a esperança um do outro, uma aliança sagrada e bíblica, mesmo para aqueles que não tinham fé. A alegria e a melancolia juntos e equilibrados. Eramos a paixão, mas também eramos a obsessão. Eramos entregue tão naturalmente um ao outro que simplesmente fazia sentido. Acreditávamos que eramos o significado de nossa existência. Que seriamos eternos dentro do nosso arco-iris colorido. Tudo simplesmente fazia sentido.

… Até não fazer mais.

Assim como tudo que se aproxima demais do Sol ou do Olho do furacão, nos tornamos ruínas.

Eu engulo em seco antes de me virar para ele. O meu olhar encontra o seu e há tanta intensidade em seus vidros verdes, que sinto transbordar o rio dentro de mim.

Do que você se arrepende, Marie? Do que você se arrepende? A pergunta retumba em minha mente. Então eu respiro e deixo que a razão se silencie dentro de mim e que de espaço para que meu coração fale.

Eu me arrependo de não ter me fundido a ele como um só. Me arrependo de não ter colado sua pele sobre a minha e de não ter entrado em suas entranhas. Me arrependo de não ter bebido de seu sangue o suficiente para que fosse realizado esse pacto entre nossas almas.

Eu me arrependo de não ter te provado que eu poderia ter sido bem melhor do que ela.

Os meus olhos se enchem e meu coração queima. Diga a ele, Marie! Deixe ir! Então respirando fundo eu o digo:

— Eu mudaria ter me apaixonado por você. — A razão ganhou.

Charles engole em seco. O seu olhar está em chamas sobre mim.

Há uma compreensão muda entre nós. Todos os '' e se” que poderiam ter feito as coisas diferir no nosso relacionamento. Toda via, não acredito que qualquer coisa que tivéssemos feito teria mudado o que nos tornamos.

Charles acena com a cabeça e olha para a janela por alguns segundos antes de se virar e andar em direção ao que penso ser o seu novo quarto. Mas antes que ele possa ser engolido pela escuridão do corredor ele se vira para mim novamente.

— Eu entendo o que você quer dizer. Realmente entendo, mas jamais mudaria nada do que senti por você. Não mudaria nada do que nós fomos. — Suas palavras soam como agulhas sobre a minha pele.

Sei que o silêncio seria a melhor escolha entre nós por enquanto, mas mesmo assim não consigo evitar lhe dar uma resposta. Essa atração pelo que machuca, sempre seduzindo nós dois.

— Há mais fenômenos no mundo do que o arco-iris, Charles. E eu sinto muito por você te-los descoberto antes de mim. — respondo sustentando seu olhar e calando todos os gritos que imploravam para que eu me entregasse novamente a ele.

Ele fica confuso com minhas palavras por um segundo antes que algo dentro do seu cérebro clique. Eu sei ser uma crueldade minha ter utilizado das palavras de Jules sobre nós para tentar tampar uma ferida aberta em nossos corpos.

A chuva lá fora fica mais forte e eu volto a encarar a janela. O sol não aparece entre as nuvens carregadas. Não haverá nenhum fenômeno colorido hoje.

— A única coisa que eu mudaria, é deixar nós dois acabarmos com tudo da forma que aconteceu. Eu mudaria cada segundo que deixei você pensar que eu não te amava. — Meu corpo se arrepia com suas palavras e sinto uma lágrima escorrer pelo meu rosto, mas não desvio a minha atenção da vista a minha frente.

Ouço os passos de Charles saindo da sala e me deixando sozinha com a chuva e com o peso da tempestade no meu peito.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

N.A: Hello! Depois de tantas ameaças estou de volta! Foram meses de muita agonia e trabalho mas agora consegui! Esse capítulo resolvi separar em duas partes, por isso está mais curtinho! Mas o próximo entregarei tudo.

Espero que tenham gostado! 😁

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neymarsangel · 1 year

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Pit Lane - Charles Leclerc x Verstappen!reader

Charles Leclerc x verstappen!reader

Requested? Yes/No - hello 🫀Could I request one that reader is Max Verstappen sister and is dating Charles. She isn’t a driver but is always in the pits for them.She suffers from asthma and in one career she has a really bad attack thats ends with her fainting and in the hospital because she couldn’t breath. Maybe it could be because her inhaler is empty and she didn’t have the time to get more.Would love to see how her brother, boyfriend, dad, friends (the drivers) reacts to the news

Thank youuu 🫂💕

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing, mentions of accidents, Jos Verstappen if that counts…

Word Count: 6.2K

—

Max was as overprotective as they come so when it came to light that you were dating his childhood rival and rival on the track he wasn’t exactly pleased. You were having a family dinner at your Mum’s when she asked you to quickly grab her a fork, obliging you left the table and also your phone by your seat. You were sitting beside Max who saw your phone screen light up as you left. Glancing over he saw a certain someone had sent you a text.

Char <3: Enjoy spending time with your family mon amour, I’ll call you when you’re home x

Max quickly snatched your phone from its spot just as you walked back into the dining room to catch him. His face was flooded with anger at the text he’d just read, something you picked up on the second you walked back into the room. Your brows furrowed as you spoke.

“What?” His eyes met yours at the sudden sound of your voice. “Why do you have my phone?”

“Why is Leclerc texting you?” He asked in a bitter tone.

“Sorry?” You tried playing dumb but Max could always see through your lies.

“Don’t lie to me!” He spat, holding your phone up. “Why the fuck is he calling you ‘love’? Are you two -”

“Max now is not the time.” Your Mum cut him off, staring at the two of you. “y/n just sit down, come on let’s just eat. It’s rare I get the three of you here for dinner at the same time.”

Victoria gave you a look, she knew. When you were younger Max went to stay with your Dad so he could pursue his Formula 1 career whereas Victoria stayed with your Mum. You were the odd one out. Max and you were always close, since the day you were born he’d always looked after you, he did the same with Victoria but he was just that little bit more protective of you but he had a reason to be. Being only seven you ended up staying with your Mum until you turned eighteen when you were finally reunited with Max for good.

Max quickly learnt a few drivers had taken a liking to you, especially Charles and Pierre. You’d met Charles before when he and Max would kart together. As a kid Max hated Charles, always complaining that Charles kept trying to push him off the track but as the two grew older they learnt to put their bitterness aside. You knew deep down that Max and Charles still had that rivalry, especially as they were now competing to be World Champions.

Moving in with Max meant going to every single one of his races, which also meant seeing Charles every single week. Normally he would always be accompanied by Pierre Gasly, a man who would flirt with anyone that took a breath whereas Charles was more subtle. It started out with small talk and then he’d show up to the post-race celebrations, get you away from Max so you could have a conversation that wasn’t just ‘hey, how are you?’. Conversations at the club turned into sneaking around with one another in hotels and the rest is history.

Max was yet to know about you and Charles. The pair of you had kept your secret from him for eight months. It hurt to keep it away from him, he was your older brother and the one person in the family that you could actually tell everything to well, everything but this. You knew if Max found out he’d lose his shit and you knew he wasn’t the cleanest driver on the grid at times. Part of you worried that if he found out he’d pull off a stupid stunt on the track and land the two of them in the hospital so you kept it from him.

“I’m not sitting here and eating fucking potatoes when my sister clearly has something going on with Charles Leclerc!” Max screamed, standing up and shooting you a glare. “What is going on between you and Leclerc?”

“Max please just calm down -” Your Mum spoke.

“Calm down? She’s been lying to my face!” He took a deep breath. “How long?”

You didn’t want an argument but you knew it would come eventually. “Eight months -”

“Eight fucking months?” His words were bitter. “Eight fucking months and you didn’t think to tell me?”

“You’d lose your shit if you knew! You can be such an idiot on that track and I don’t want you pulling some pathetic stunt that gets both of you killed!” You spat back.

“It’s not me you have to worry about crashing, that prat can’t even finish a race!”

“Don’t you dare start insulting him, not when he’s only ever spoken good things about you in the media unlike some of those drivers on the grid!”

“Yeah now I know why! He only done it to please you!” He ran his hand through his hair. “I can’t believe my own sister would go around with the man who’s considered my rival, you might as well be dating Lewis Hamilton!”

“Max that’s enough!” Your Mum snapped. “Both of you!”

“So is that where you’ve been going when you tell me you’re going to y/b/f’s house for the weekend? You’ve been with him? All those nights you stayed out late and asked me not to wait up, you were with him, weren’t you?”

“Of course I was Max!” Tears and panic were filling your body at the sight of Max’s rage.

“Why him y/n?” His voice now turned to pain. “Anyone but a shitty driver on the grid.” He slumped back down in his chair as you spun on your heel and left the room, feeling yourself getting short of breath you pushed your mother's bedroom door open and sat on the edge of your bed, trying to calm your breathing but nothing would work. Reaching for your inhaler you were able to steady yourself, calming yourself to the point of not feeling short of breath.

“He’s such a dickhead.” The voice of your sister caught your attention. She gave you a warm smile as she sat beside you, noticing your inhaler in your hand. “You need to take it easy, stress makes your breathing worse and you know that.”

“Rather hard when your brother starts screaming at you like that.” You leaned your head on her shoulder, closing your eyes as she wrapped her arm around you.

“I know but you know Max, can’t control his emotions to save his life… thank god he was never born a woman, imagine if he had a period every month.” You smiled at her words, letting out a light laugh. “Don’t worry about him, Charles is a decent guy. Mum likes him and Dad has always said he’s a good driver which automatically means he respects him. It’s just Max you’ll have to work on.”

“And what do you think of him?” You looked up at her.

She shrugged with a small smirk on her face. “You think you could set me up with Pierre now you and Charles are together?”

You laughed at her words before speaking. “I think Max would kill us.”

“Maybe so but I don’t think Mum would let him.”

Victoria continued to calm you down, meanwhile, your Mum was giving Max a lecture, almost like he was a child.

“Did you need to do that?” She set the food aside and gave Max a glare.

“I don’t want her around him -”

“Max she’s twenty-one, not a child. She can make her own decisions.”

“I’ve seen how some of these drivers act, I don’t trust them.”

“Does Charles act like that?”

Max pondered on the thought. “No…”

“Then why are you so uptight about all of this?”

“Because he might be like that.”

“Then that’s her lesson to learn. I’ve met him far too many times and even I can tell you that he’s not like that. He clearly cares about her and he was raised to be a polite and smart lad. You know that.”

“I still don’t like it.”

“Doesn’t give you the right to yell at her like that. She’s clearly happy with him, don’t you want that for her?”

“Of course I do.” Max gave her a sad expression. “But I want her to be safe.”

“Max,” Your Mum took his hand into hers, smiling at him as she spoke. “I know you care for her especially as she was always there for you at your races and when I and your father split it was hard on you both but you know deep down she isn’t going anywhere. He won’t take her away from this family, she’s still your baby sister.”

Max knew she was right but it was still hard for him. He missed being around his family and all he wanted was for all of you to be as close to one another as possible but that would never happen. People move on, Victoria already had and that pained him knowing everyone was slowly growing apart. With your parents split he never got to have what most children did, he never got to have dinner with the family every night, he never got to go on family days out or even just stay inside and watch a film with one another. It was something so small but something he so desperately longed for.

When it was clear that Max wanted to be a racing driver he never got a day off. He always had to train and that meant leaving you, his Mum and Victoria. So when you made the decision to move in with him he was over the moon. His Mum visited more and you were by his side. He had his family back, maybe not how he wanted but it was enough for him but the thought of you moving away to be with Charles meant he wouldn’t see you, Victoria or his Mum as often. His head just swarmed itself with the memories of being left with his Dad at eleven, no Mum or sisters by his side.

Max didn’t sat anything else, he only nodded, knowing his Mum was right he got up and made his way towards her bedroom. Softly knocking on the door he waited for you or Victoria to give him the all-clear to enter. His heart ached at the sight of you clutching your inhaler, a clear sign he’d set your asthma off.

“Can I speak to y/n?” He directed his question to Victoria.

“If you don’t plan on screaming at her then I don’t see a problem with it.”

“I’m not.”

Victoria looked down at you, waiting for the nod of approval from you. A silent signal that you were happy to speak to Max. She lifted herself from the bed, glaring at her older brother before leaving the two of you to talk.

Max shuffled into the room, a glum expression on his face as he sat beside you. “Did you need to use it?” He pointed to the inhaler. You only nodded, making a surge of guilt fly through him. “I’m sorry I just… I just don’t want this family to fall apart -”

“And you think Charles Leclerc is going to make us fall apart?” You arched your brows at him.

“No, but it’ll play a part. You know all I ever want to do when I have free time is just relax with you, Mum and Victoria.”

“And Charles and I dating is going to suddenly stop that?”

He huffed in frustration as he tried to get his words out. “No, but it means I won’t see you as much anymore. It means it’ll be harder to get everyone round for dinner as you’ll always be out with him, Victoria is always travelling -”

“Max I’m not going to just get up and walk out of your life. Do you not think I feel the same way too? I never got to see you and Dad as much as I wanted to as a kid and now I see the pair of you pretty much every day. Yes if Charles and I move in together I won’t see you every day but I’ll still be at every single race. I’ll still be living in the same area as you. It’s not like he’s going to lock me away from ever seeing you again.”

“Are you happy with him?” Max suddenly looked down at you, changing the subject slightly.

“I am, Max.”

“And do you love him?”

“I do.”

“Does he love you?”

“He says he does, every single day so I bloody hope it’s true.” Max broke a small smile at your words, following Victoria's actions he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you into his side.

“Then I’ll allow it. Can’t promise I won’t start a fight or let the two of you hold hands around me but I’ll allow it.”

“Oh glad I’ve got the permission of my brother.” You smirked at him before breaking into a smile.

“Just wait till Dad finds out.”

“I plan to never tell him, he doesn’t need to know.”

“Yeah, good luck.” Max laughed knowing that if he reacted like that then Jos would hit the roof.

That all happened a few months ago. Jos did find out but thankfully Max was there to ease everything. He didn’t lose his shit as much as you had expected him to but that didn’t mean he liked the idea of his daughter dating a Formula 1 driver, especially one who drove for a rival team but Charles had managed to survive a dinner with your family which meant things were destined to last.

—

“I wish we could stay like this forever.” Charles hummed as his hand smoothed down your hair. You were laying on his chest as the sun from the outside world made your hotel room glow like gold. Today was the day of the French Grand Prix, a race Charles was hopeful about.

“Me too.” You replied, your hand tracing his chest before looking up at him. “How are you feeling about today?”

“Confident.” He replied, a small smile on his face. “I think I can win it today if I get a good start and we can actually get our strategy right then I can put some distance between us and Red Bull.” He looked down at you, his smile turning to a smirk. “Or you could tell Max to lay off me just this once.”

Laughing at his reply you let your head fall onto his chest before replying. “Not sure if that would work, he already isn’t your biggest fan.”

Charles moved his hand and used it to move your face to look at him again. “So? His sister is.” He leant down and took your lips into his. He’d never get bored of the feeling of having you in his arms with your lips on his. He let his tongue slide across your bottom lip as he spare hand went to your waist, pulling you onto his lap so you were now straddling him as the kiss deepened. He tugged on your bottom lip, loving the way you softly moaned at the sensation.

You pulled away from the kiss slightly as you felt his hands begin to trail up your thighs. “You have a race to get to.”

“We’ve got some time-”

“Hardly any.” You muttered against his lips.

“We've had less before and we made it work… besides…” He brushed your hair out of your face. “It’ll be my good luck charm.”

“I thought I was that.”

“You are, I just might need a little extra luck looking at the state of our strategy.” Laughing against his lips you melted into his touch as he leant up and flipped the two of you over. He ducked his head down and began to kiss your neck. Your eyes glanced over to the clock beside the bed.

He was right, you had time.

—

You watched as Charles took his helmet into his hands, looking down and smiling at the photo of you and him tucked inside the padding before meeting your soft y/e/c eyes. “You always look so worried when I’m about to get into the car.” He pouted at your expression. He always hated seeing you like this. The thought of having your brother and boyfriend taking part in one of the most dangerous sports in the world which was responsible for so many deaths caused your anxiety to spiral. Something Charles unfortunately knew all too well.

“Just be safe please.”

Charles walked towards you, setting his helmet aside he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest. “You know I will.” He pecked your lips. “I will always come back, I can promise you that.” His eyes scanned your face, he would never get bored of seeing how your eyes would look up at him with such love.

“You better.”

“I will.” This time the kiss felt different, it always did before a race. It was always a silent promise that he would come back to you, no matter what happened out there. “I’ll meet you at the garage when the race is over.”

You nodded, the two of you sharing one last kiss before he stepped away and put his helmet on. “Good luck Char.” You leant up to kiss the top of his helmet before you turned away to join your family at the Red Bull garage.

“y/n!” You turned back to the man dressed in red. Charles was jogging up to you, slipping his helmet off before pressing his lips onto yours once again. He cupped your jaw as he deepend the kiss, he smiled against your lips as he pulled back, missing the sweetness of your lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You smiled back as you kissed him again, swiping your tongue on his bottom lip, teasing him after the antics of the morning. Charles wanted more but he couldn’t. Not yet anyway. The pair of you pulled back eventually. Charles blew you one last kiss as you left him. “Please be careful!”

“I will mon amour!” He called back, his head turning to see you walk away.

“You know,” A Spanish accent filled the air. “I can’t decide if you two make me want to be sick or if you two are just cute together,” Carlos smirked at Charles who was clearly smitten with the Verstappen girl.

“You sound like her brother.” He replied, glancing over his shoulder one last time only to see that you’d already gone to find your brother. No matter how long or how much you loved Charles you made one promise to yourself and that was to watch the race from the Red Bull garage. Max was still your brother and the one person who’d be there if things ever fell apart.

“Afternoon y/n.” Christain Horner welcomed you as you made your way through the groups of mechanics to find your family.

“Hello, Christian.” You smiled back at the man.

“Did you ask your boyfriend to have a shit start so we could get some pace on him?”

“Think you might struggle this time around, he seems pretty confident and Ferrari seem to have a set plan for this race.”

“Can always rely on you for insider information.” Max’s voice snatched your attention. He opened his arms for a hug, an action you quickly obliged with. “Wonder what he’d think if he found out you were telling us all their secrets!” He joked as the two of you shared a hug.

“What can I say? I clearly have a favourite.” You went along with his words although Max knew as much as you loved him and always showed your brother endless support that you would much rather see Charles win a World Championship than him.

“You should do, he’s your brother.” Jos quickly joined the conversation, pulling you away from your brother for a hug.

“Hello to you too Dad.” You hugged him back before Max spoke again.

“How’s he feeling? Confident?”

“As always.” You replied. “And you?”

“Easy win.” He winked before breaking into a small laugh. “It’ll be a challenge as always but if we get a good start, do our pitstops in a smart way then I can’t see why we can’t be on the podium.”

“I can’t see why you can’t finish in P1 today.” Your Dad joined in, making you and Max share a quick look.

As much as Jos cared for you and your sister he always seemed to have a different attitude towards Max. As you got older you began to understand he was living his dream through him. Jos wasn’t good enough for Formula 1 but Max was. He’d already won a Championship and was set to win many more in his career. The treatment your Dad gave to Max was beyond unfair but Max hadn’t known anything else. The pair of you would often talk about it but Max refused to ever admit that Jos was in the wrong, he just thought that was how a Dad was supposed to be.

“You’ve got Charles for competition so maybe aim for P2.” You quickly spoke, trying to brush off the harsh words of your father.

“Don’t think I can do it?” Max pretended to look offended. “My own sister turning against me for Charles Leclerc!” He placed his hand on his chest. “Maybe you should go watch the race with Ferarri.”

“Oh shut up.” You shoved him slightly as Max made his way to the car. “Be safe.”

“I’ll try.” He smiled as he grabbed his helmet, waving at you one last time as you and Jos joined Victoria to watch the race unfold.

Charles had started well. You had to try your best not to celebrate in front of the Red Bull mechanics and your family but your joy didn’t last. In the eighteenth lap just after Red Bull had completed an incredible pit stop your heart sank. The camera suddenly cut to someone in the wall and then your boyfriend's name was mentioned. You saw his number proudly against the car, you didn’t need a commentator to confirm your fears.

Charles didn’t move for a few seconds and in a fit of fear you threw your headphones off as you felt your heart race and your breathing increase which meant you missed his radio confirming that he was in fact okay. Your eyes fell onto the screen again and Charles was still not moving, the camera cut away, a sign that was never good in Formula 1.

Victoria picked up on your distress immediately. Growing up alongside you she always knew when an asthma attack was on the rise. Stress and panic always grew when you watched races, you knew you should stay away from the sport when your nerves were on the rise but you couldn’t do that to Max and Charles.

“y/n…” Victoria grabbed your forearm, pulling you away from the small crowd of people watching the race. “It's okay, he’s okay…”

“He didn’t move -”

“He’s probably in shock, he’ll be okay. It wasn’t a bad crash -”

“It doesn’t need to be.” Your voice was failing you as your chest started to ache. Victoria grabbed your bag from around your shoulder, sensing you needed your inhaler she pulled it out of your bag, handed it to you and directed your hand to mouth but when you pressed the silver button nothing happened. Hers and your eyes widened at the lack of sound indicating that the device had worked. “Shit… I forgot…”

Before every single race, Charles always asked you to check your inhaler and make sure it wasn’t running low. He couldn’t even begin to think of what would happen if something went wrong when he wasn’t around. He knew how important it was, especially if either you or Max got hurt or into a collision. He also always kept a spare on him just in case you needed it and you had left it behind. The only problem was Charles was climbing out of his crashed car with no inhaler on him.

Victoria knew she had to think fast or you would end up in serious trouble. She screamed for Jos who wasn’t paying much attention, too focused on the race until he saw his youngest daughter clutching her chest as she sunk to the floor. Forgetting that Max was now on his way to winning another race he called for help, alerting a steward of what was taking place. Within seconds the ambulance team was in the Red Bull garage attending to you.

Meanwhile, Charles was on the side of the track, screaming in frustration at his mistake. With his head in his hands, he sobbed his heart out. Through teary eyes, he looked down at his helmet and saw the photo of the two of you. He knew you’d be waiting for him when he got back, waiting to take the pain away and that was all he needed right now.

If only he knew.

“Mr Leclerc you need to go to the medical tent.” One of the safety managers called over to him as he stormed back to the garages. Anger was still running through his veins at what had happened.

“Fuck off I’m fine.” He took a deep breath as he walked into the garage.

“You may feel fine but you need to be checked over, it’s an FIA rule, please -”

Charles scanned the garage yet couldn’t find you. Despite always watching the races in the Red Bull garage you would always leave the second anything happened to him on the track. You would always be waiting at the Ferarri garage for him or you’d meet him at the medical tent if the team had been told that he was sent there. “Where’s y/n?” He ignored the man's pleas.

“She isn’t here.” A mechanic spoke. “Hasn’t turned up.”

Charles scrunched his face up in confusion. “She isn’t in my room?”

“We would have seen or heard her.” Another mechanic spoke. She hasn’t come here. Maybe she’s still at Red Bull.”

“But she always comes here.”

“Maybe she saw you get out and decided to stay and watch her brother win.” The mechanic turned his gaze to the television mounted on the wall. Charles followed his gaze to see Max Verstappen leading the race but it still didn’t make sense. You’d seen him crash a fair few times and saw him get out of the car safely yet you always came here, even if Max was winning.

Charles didn’t say anything as he left the Ferrari garage and headed down to the Red Bull garage. Your relationship was public so he knew if cameras were following him closely it wouldn't spark rumours that he was attempting to sign with Red Bull to escape Ferrari.

“Is y/n here?” He announced to no one in particular. A few mechanics and friends of Max and Checo looked around at one another, unsure whether they should tell Charles what had just happened. The brunette picked up on their uncertainty almost instantly. “What?”

Checo’s wife took her headphones off and gestured for Charles to follow her. He quickly followed the woman, his concern growing. Making sure the pair of them were away from prying ears she spoke. “She saw you crash and the panic got to her -”

“Has she just gone back to the hotel?” Charles quickly asked.

“She had an asthma attack and her inhaler was out. She’d forgotten to change it and they had to call the ambulance team. We’ve been told she’s all okay, she’s at the medical tent -” Charles didn’t need to hear the rest. He quickly turned on his heel and sprinted out of the garage and towards the medical tent, not caring that he probably shouldn’t have been running considering he’d just crashed into a wall.

—

“Is Charles okay?” You asked, propped up in bed whilst the medic team checked your heart rate. You were put on a ventilator, something you were used to after growing up with asthma. Victoria and Jos were by your side through the whole thing. Thankfully you started to breathe on your own after a while, the medics were running their last checks to make sure you didn’t need to be sent to a specialist.

“He got out of the car just fine. He was walking around after.” Your Dad held your hand as he sat beside the bed, his eyes glancing back and forth between you and the race.

“He’s okay y/n.” Victoria chimed in.

“He should have joined you in here for his own checks but I’ve been told he’s refused a medical check-up.” The paramedic tending to you reassured you. “That means he must be fine.”

You gave the woman a small smile, resting your head back and letting out a steady breath. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Miss Verstappen.” She stepped back. “You’ll be fine but maybe this is a lesson to always carry an inhaler that works.”

“Charles always has one on him just in case.”

“No good when he’s in a wall.” Your Dad replied.

“Maybe we should start carrying a spare just in case,” Victoria spoke.

“Or maybe I should remember to get mine replaced.” You chimed in.

“That too but if Charles can carry one for you then I think we could too, just in case.”

Almost like he was summoned by the sound of his own name Charles darted into the room, still in his race suit his eyes fell on you. Suddenly all the anger and hurt from crashing out of the race disappeared and the only thing he could think of was you. “Ma belle fille…” Charles hurried himself over to you. Jos moved from your side allowing Charles to sit beside you. He took your hands into his, pressing small kisses into your skin. “What happened?”

“I fainted but I’m okay.” You ran your thumbs over the top of his hand. “It was just an asthma attack.”

“Love it’s not ‘just an asthma attack.” His eyes met yours. “It’s serious, you could have landed yourself in a lot of trouble, we were lucky you only landed yourself in here.”

“I know.” You looked down, slightly ashamed that you had caused all of this just because you forgot to get your inhaler replaced.

“Hey,” Charles moved his hand to tilt your head back up to face him before he planted a short yet meaningful kiss on your lips. “I’m just glad you’re okay, you nearly made me faint when I got back to the garage and saw you weren’t there.” He smiled.

“We’ll give you two some space.” Victoria pulled Jos out of the room. “I won’t tell Max what happened, I’ll let him bask in the glory first.” She winked before leaving the room with your Dad who looked displeased to leave you alone with Charles despite the two of you living together.

“Are you okay?” You turned the conversation back to him.

“Hmm…” He hummed back. “It was all my fault, I’m never going to be a World Champion if I can’t keep the lead of a race without fucking it all up.”

“One mistake doesn’t define your career Char.” Squeezing his hand you gave him a reassuring smile.

“Thank you.” He returned the smile. “It just feels as if I’m not set to win a Championship.”

“Why? Because you crashed the odd time? The world knows it’s not your fault, fans blame the team and they’re right in doing so. They ruined so many of your and Carlos’ races, races the pair of you could have easily won and gained more points than Max. The season isn’t over yet and if things don’t go to plan this season then you always have next season.”

He got up and leaned over to kiss the top of your head before placing a small light kiss on your lips before returning to his seat. “Thank you. I don’t deserve you.” He kissed your hand again, looking up at you with his eyes full of love. “I don’t even want to go out there and talk to the press.” He huffed, leaning his head on the bed as he changed the subject.

“You don’t have to.” Your hands started to play with his hair. “You can just stay here.”

“Oh, I plan on it.” He shut his eyes, taking a deep breath as he melted into your touch, finally feeling calm. “Although I’ll have to speak to them eventually.”

“I’m sure you can weave around it besides, just tell them what you told me.”

“Not sure that’s going to work on everyone, most fans don’t think I deserve to even be considered as a title contender.”

“Since when did you care about what others think?” You raised your brows at the man. “Char, you drive Formula 1 cars for a living and they spend their money to see you drive those cars, you really care about what some low-life fan who can’t even drive a normal car thinks?”

Charles raised his head from the bed and looked at you with a smile. “Such a way with words Verstappen.”

“I do try Leclerc.” You both leaned forward to one another when a sudden bang of a door opened.

Max was standing in the doorway alongside Daniel and Lando. When Daniel and Max were teammates you grew close to the Australian who would spend most of his time showing you his playlists on his phone and telling you the stories of his life. Daniel had been on adventures you only read about in books, you could listen to him all day. Lando and you grew close due to Max treating the boy like a younger brother. The two of you were also close in age which was an added bonus when it came to conversation. As Lando once said ‘sometimes these old men don’t understand us’.

“Fucking hell y/n are you okay?” Max shoved Charles out of his chair, not caring that Charles could have been hurt as he’d been involved in a crash. “What happened? What did they give you?”

“I’m fine Max.” You smiled at your brother. “It was my fault, I had an asthma attack but my inhaler was empty. I fainted but I’m okay -”

“You don’t sound it,” Daniel spoke up, making his way to the bed, not caring that Charles was now sitting on the floor after being pushed by his old teammate. “Here.” Daniel handed you one of his hoodies, making sure you were comfortable as you lay in bed.

“You know I have hoodies if you want them,” Charles announced from the floor, his face already fed up with Daniel's antics.

“I’ve got a few too,” Lando spoke, a smirk on his face. All three drivers received a glare from Max, a silent warning that if they continued he’d deal with them on the track. “But I’m sure you’re fine.” Lando quickly said, clearly scared of Max.

“Thank you, Lando.” You tried to suppress your laughter as you spoke again. “And you too Daniel.”

The Aussie helped you put the hoodie on, making sure you were warm and comfortable before laying back down. Whilst Daniel made sure you were comfortable Lando grabbed you a drink and left it on the side for when you were ready.

“Thought you would have gotten her all this Leclerc,” Max suggested, knowing his words would annoy him.

“I was too busy making out with her Verstappen.” Charles knew his words would annoy your brother.

“What did you say?” Max stood up, his actions quickly causing Charles to scramble to his feet.

“I’m just saying…” Charles smirked. “She tastes good -”

“That’s my sister you dickhead!” Max lunged at Charles but he missed, allowing Charles to sprint to Daniel, holding him and using him as a human shield but Max couldn’t care less. Lando used his brain and moved out of the way towards you, watching the whole scene unfold with a smile on his lips.

“It was a joke!” Charles screamed, trying to defend himself as he made a run for the door.

“Well…” Daniel looked over at you. “Least you don’t have to worry about your boyfriend being injured… from the car at least…”