GENTLE VIOLENCE - Lestappen

12. The ninth stage of greif, revenge

CW for this chapter: Greif, crying, homophobia. Jos Verstappen. F-slur. Charles doesn't mean to, but he's a bit mean. Violence, punches. Max needs a fucking hug. Charles heavy chapter.

Charles Leclerc

Laying next to a sobbing, shaking and whining Max that night was hell on earth. After getting to bed that nigh? It seemed like it all came crashing down on his poor Max. The weight of what had just happened, how permanent it was- it was eating the poor dutchman alive. Charles didn't care if Max cried- he wanted the other to- to let it all out instead of denying himself the relief. The way that Charles had denied himself the same thing when his father and godfather passed. He had bottled up his grief and let it consume him and it felt reliving to know that Max wasn't doing the same thing.

But it was awful nonetheless.

The room was dark, only the moonlight from outside making the wall opposite them light up in a dull blue. It smelled like rain- the window open to let in the scent from outside where light rain was hitting the ground around them.

Max's cries filled the room and wetted Charles shirt- making the light gray color of it, dark instead. Charles hands felt slowly through the back of Max's hair- pushing it back and then gently felt down the nape of his neck.

This wasn't anymore about a "coming out"- or even being gay, or bi, or whatever Max wanted to say he was.

This was a violation of his of his right to be a human, experimenting and exploring. Charles couldn't imagine being so cruel- the way that Jos had been. What had Max ever done? Other than give him million of reasons to be proud, be happy and show him love. He wasn't just an amazing man and racer- he was a world champion- a three time one and had earned and achieved more than his father ever had.

He was a fucking star, a world class athlete and Charles had never been so proud to call someone... well Max wasn't his- but almost. At least he wanted Max to be. Maybe one day, Charles would get what he wanted, but now wasn't the time to think about that. He shushes the other softly- moving to push his lips to Max's forehead as he speaks.

"You're okay, I promise you're okay- everything is going to be fine."

"As long as I'm here, okay? I'll never let them look at you differently, never."

"Max, just listen to me breathe- come? Here, look."

Charles mutters out his words carefully to a damn near inconsolable Max. He moves the dutchman's head onto his own chest and wraps him up tight, makes sure to really hold him firmly and then rocks them as much as he can manage while laying down. Charles tries to think away to a time and a place, far in the future when they can just be without anyone telling them differently.

Christian had been right. Max had kissed a boy- not killed a man. Still he was terrified and shaking in Charles arms as if he was waiting to go on trial for a life sentence.

But maybe in a way what Max was going through? Was a life sentence.

Charles doesn't sleep that night. He gets out of bed once Max is no longer shaking and crying, instead sleeping soundly and breathing slowly. He tucks the other driver into bed properly and leaves his sleep shirt with him, Max in his sleep coming to grab and nose into it.

Charles leaves the bedroom door open and goes to sit in the kitchen, opening up his laptop.

He is pleased to see that a handful of drivers have posted their own posts regarding Max's leaked pictures as well as a few other statements from other racing teams having popped up, all in support of Max.