LOVE OR RIDE | LESTAPPEN

chapter teen - cursed green eyes

Max

"What a fucking motherfucker!" I shout into the radio as Leclerc pulls in my way, causing me to lose time on the measuring lap.

"We'll report it, Max." I hear a calm voice.

"But seriously, fuck! Is this a fucking playground! He drives here for so many years and can't look in the mirrors! Let them remove him from here!" I yell, hoping not to end in Q2 by this idiot.

Three days have passed since our conversation. One devoted to meeting the media, another to training and today to qualifying. Is it good between us? Well I don't know, it's neither bad nor good. We don't get in each other's way, but I can't help but comment on his driving, because today he drives like he's drunk. I'm sick of this Ferrari.

"P9, we're in Q3." I sigh with relief, hearing my engineer's voice.

"Because of that red shit, we barely made it." I mumble to him, hoping he'll finally back me up about not liking this team.

"Focus on driving. Both of you focus."

"Both of you? Is this fucking retard saying something on me? On me! When he's the one who blocked the road me seven times! SEVEN! Not once, not twice! Fucker! Holy shit, how dare he!" I'm already talking to myself, because the engineer is completely not listening to me, although I'm still talking into the radio. I go down to the box, shaking my head in disbelief.

"I'll take a leave of absence." he says seriously, sounding tired of my talking.

Great. 

In the end, qualifying goes well. I take pole position for tomorrow's race and no Leclerc prevented me from doing anything. He took a measly P8 through penalties caused by today's driving. Do I feel sorry for him? Not a bit. I share the front row with my teammate, so everything is perfect. After photos, interviews and other crap, I say goodbye to the team, thanking them for today, and head toward the parking lot to go to the hotel. I need to get some sleep.

Suddenly I hear a quiet cry. At first I ignore it, because it's probably some small child who wasn't allowed to get into the car. But as I get closer to the sound, I recognize that it's not a baby crying at all. I furrow my eyebrows, looking toward the Ferrari garages from where the sobbing is coming from.

"Fuck me." I say under my breath, looking around to see if anyone can see me, and when I don't notice any people, I quickly walk toward the sound.

I pass employees who, although they don't say anything, look in my direction with a strange look on their faces, and I'm not surprised at all. They probably think I'm as a spy or I'm lost. God, what am I doing.

I walk through the strange corridors, feeling that I won't go back down that road again, because I don't remember it. Suddenly I notice Leclerc sitting against the wall. He has his knees squatted against his chest. He rests his hands against his knees and his head is lowered down, every now and then fighting an incoming sob. He angrily wipes away his tears, and next to him lies a broken phone with some messages and a photo on the screen. I grunt, and he quickly raises his head to look at me. He wrinkles his eyebrows, blinking a few times to make sure it's definitely me.

"What are you doing here? It's not Red Bull." he says quietly.

"Well... I managed to notice, too red here." I agree with him. I tentatively approach him and sit down opposite him, leaning against the wall with the difference that I keep my legs stretched out and my shoe touching his. "You're crying again." I add.

"And you since when do you care?" he tries to sound threatening so that I start arguing with him and forget about his condition. This time it doesn't work out for him.