The Right Time (Lestappen)

The morning after the night before

Another chapter, I'm probably going to slow these down now, so I am planning to start updating each Friday (although some weeks there may be two updates) Thank you so much to everyone that has read, voted and commented - it's sometimes difficult to know if any one is reading or enjoying so it helps a lot :)

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Charles woke up with a blinding headache. He looked around the room, the broken bottles reminding him of the disaster that was last night. The room may have been untidy but his head was even more of a mess. He managed to shuffle his way into the bathroom and splash some cold water on his face in the hopes of waking himself up properly but his head hurt so much he retreated back to the comfort of his bed.

He lay still, trying not to make the banging in his head any worse but he couldn't help but check his phone. He replayed the voicemail he had received the other day. He didn't know how many times he had listened to it but each time he hoped that the contents of the message would somehow change but it never did. Marcus Drayford. Charles now hated that name. Some journalist from a cheap gossip magazine had called him, feigning sympathy but explaining that he had information from a reliable source that Charles was gay and he would like to talk to the driver before going to print. Charles wasn't ashamed of his sexuality but at the same time he definitely wasn't ready to come out, not yet. He didn't want that decision taking out of his hands by some cheap journalism. He was deep in thought when a loud knock at the door brought him back to reality, but he was in no mood to talk to anybody.

'Charles, it's Max'

Shit! Charles felt sick remembering what he had said to Max last night. Was there even a small chance Max hadn't heard him properly? He could probably blame being drunk and getting his words mixed up. It didn't seem that Max had been overly concerned, Charles had heard him go back to his own hotel room and from what he could hear it seemed Max had continued to party with the two women. Charles had buried his head under his pillow, not wanting to hear what was happening next door but all he could do was imagine. He imagined it was him there with Max, it was him who was making him feel good. Why did everything have to be so difficult? And of all the people he could have wanted, why did it have to be Max? How was it possible to want someone so much when they spent most of their existence annoying you?

'Charles, will you open the door?

Urgh, why couldn't he just leave him alone. Charles decided it best to let Max in, if only because he was sure everyone else down the corridor could now hear the Dutchman banging loudly on the door. Charles reluctantly got up and opened the door, Max was stood there in a pair of grey joggers and a white tee. Charles suddenly felt a little self conscious, realising he was dressed only in his boxers, he invited Max in and grabbed a t-shirt off the floor. He couldn't be sure but he sensed Max's gaze follow him, looking him up and down.

'You look like you had fun last night' The Monegasque driver said, not even bothering to hide his disdain.

'You look like shit' Max said before quickly correcting himself, 'Sorry I meant it looks like you haven't slept'

Max couldn't fully recall the conversation last night but he knew that Charles had been angry with him. He wanted to know exactly what had happened but now that he was stood in Charles' room he was starting to have second thoughts. Charles didn't look like he was in the mood to talk and there was a very obvious and very awkward tension.

The silence was eventually broken by the ringing of a mobile, Charles glanced down at the caller ID, it showed unknown but he knew exactly who it was. That journalist again. Before Charles could stop himself he was crying. Max was watching him closely. He had never been close to Charles but in that moment he could see the pain etched all over the other driver's face, it was the same pain Max was feeling inside. Like in that moment Charles was a mirror of himself.

Max had, perhaps undeservedly, developed a reputation for not being the most caring but in that moment he felt the need to comfort Charles. He put his arm around Charles' shoulder and pulled him closer. Charles appreciated the gesture and lent his head on the Dutchman's shoulder. He was tired and he just wanted comfort.

'What's wrong Charles?' Max spoke softly.

'I can't tell you' Charles whimpered.

'Why not? You know I'm not as heartless as people make out'

'I know that' Charles said.

The phone rang again and Charles threw it at the wall in frustration making Max jump a little. Charles couldn't hold it in any longer, he was desperate to talk to someone. He hoped that maybe Max would be understanding but he still couldn't' bring himself to look at him, instead he slowly started to try and explain .

'Max, there are rumours, rumours about someone coming out. Someone being gay. Have you heard them?'

'Yes, I've heard them. It's not such a big deal is it.?' Max asked, himself getting worried at the direction the conversation was heading.

'No. Well, yes. I mean, the rumours, they are about me' Charles was struggling to get his words out.

'Charles, they aren't about you -'

'They are. I had a call from Marcus Drayford at Monaco Life! He knows and he is going to print it and I don't want to deal with it. I can't deal with. I just can't' Charles was trying to fight back the tears.

'You're gay?' Max asked. He couldn't quite take it in, so the story was about someone else after all.

'Yes, I'm gay but nobody else knows. Nobody.' Charles sounded defeated and wept into Max's shoulder as Max pulled him in closer.

In that moment Max felt protective over the other driver. Despite the fact that Charles had regularly been a cause of annoyance to him he knew exactly how Charles was feeling right now and nobody deserved that. Max wondered whether now was the right time to confide in somebody, if anyone was going to understand what he had been going through lately then Charles would. Before he could form the right words there was a loud banging at the door.

'Charles I just tried to call you. You were meant to be downstairs half an hour ago. We have meetings lined up. You better be downstairs in 5 minutes.' Charles' PR manager did not sound like she was messing around.

Charles seemed to snap back into action. Like he was used to having to completely detach himself from what was happening in his personal life. It was almost like he was used to pushing his feelings down inside.

Max knew the moment had gone, but he also knew that there was one thing he could do for Charles. He threw his arms around him and hugged him tightly whilst telling him'Don't worry Charles, I'm going to fix this all for you. Trust me okay?'

Charles simply nodded and Max left the room, he had an important call to make.

Back in his hotel room Max took out his mobile. He had never been the best of friends with Charles but right now he felt that he needed to protect him. He had seen how scared Charles was, he knew that coming out was a big deal and nobody should be forced into it. Charles wasn't ready, he didn't look like he would cope but Max could cope, he hoped. Max could be strong for Charles. He could give Charles longer to decide what to do. 

He dialled the number he had found online and once he had gotten through to Marcus Drayford he took a deep breath

'Your story about the gay F1 driver, it is true. But you have the wrong driver. It's not Charles Leclerc, it's me'