Exam Went Horribly *and* I Got Hurt By A Staple Pin In The Span Of Like, 20 Minutes, So WHEN I SAY YOUR

I love love and am terrified of it just like everyone else

kept my promise. here's the longer version: The Kingdom, The Power, The Glory.

i cried while writing it. i hope u cry while reading it. thenks.

The Kingdom, The Power, The Glory.

a/n: ok so first of all, this is @souvenir116's fault for making that one post. u gave me ideas. so now i gift you trauma. hope u like it. wrote this during my self-imposed study break which lasted 3 hrs. hah.

lemme know if u guys want a full-blown 10k fic on ao3. i might be able to turn this babyboy into a fluff fic. somehow. if i have enough words. and time. and sleep deprivation. 

Tags: angst, lestappen, hurt no comfort, sad ending, canon divergence, unrequited love.

Summary: After a devastating crash with Max Verstappen in the 2021 Abu Dhabi Grand Prix, Charles Leclerc is left to face the aftermath — and Max — in silence, guilt, and unbearable grief.

Charles comes back to consciousness with the taste of carbon and gravel in his mouth and a white-hot spear of pain down his side. His vision is blurred, smudged red at the edges, like someone dipped the whole world in shame.

The first thing he hears is that Lewis has won.

The second is silence.

Max isn't Champion. Not today. Not ever, maybe.

Because of Charles.

Because of that corner.

Because he didn’t lift.

He doesn’t remember the impact. Just the blur. The smoke. The scream. He remembers pressing the brake too late, the car twitching beneath him like a frightened animal. And Max was there. Max was right there. Max was always there.

And now everything is over.

He’s wheeled into the medical bay with one arm strapped to his chest and the sharp ache of a cracked rib every time he breathes too hard. The bandage across his temple itches. His mouth is dry. His fingers are shaking. He’s nauseous with adrenaline, horror, and the metallic taste of guilt he’s swallowed since he was five years old and first learned what it meant to want something you weren’t allowed to touch.

He doesn't ask for the championship standings.

He doesn’t need to.

Max DNF.

Lewis wins his eighth.

And Charles is the reason.

The FIA room is cold. Tiled like a morgue. Smells like antiseptic and judgment. No one speaks to him when they bring him in. They sit him in the corner, like a bad child. His fireproofs are still streaked with blood and smoke. His helmet is gone. He keeps looking at his hands. He doesn’t recognise them.

Charles doesn’t lift his head. Not until he feels him.

The fury.

It walks in before Max does.

It lives in the air. It vibrates in the walls. It hums inside Charles’ lungs, stealing the breath from his chest. The rage is so alive it feels like a third person in the room. And still — Max is silent.

No screaming.

No shouting.

No finger in his face. No snarled accusations.

Max walks into the room limping, jaw locked, and then—he sits down beside him.

Not across. Not far away. Right beside him.

Like this is personal.

Like this was always personal.

Charles keeps staring at the floor, because if he looks at Max’s face, he’ll break open. And he doesn't deserve to break. Not after this. Not after everything he just destroyed.

He took Max’s title.

He took Max’s year.

He took Max’s first World Championship and drove them both into smoke.

And it doesn't matter if he didn’t mean to. It doesn’t matter that he braked late thinking he could hold it. That he thought Max would leave him space. That he thought—

It doesn’t matter.

Intentions don’t count for anything when you steal the thing someone’s spent their whole life chasing.

Max’s hand is clenched into a fist on his knee.

It’s shaking.

Charles whispers, “I’m sorry.”

It’s all he has.

Max doesn’t reply. But the air goes colder.

“I didn’t—I didn’t want that to happen.”

His throat burns. His chest twists like wire.

“I locked up.”

His voice hitches.

“I wasn’t trying to—”

He shakes his head. It’s pointless. Words are pointless. Nothing he says will change it. The moment happened. The damage is done. History has been rewritten in the time it took for two cars to kiss carbon.

“I was trying to keep it clean.”

He swallows. It tastes like bile.

“I thought I left enough space.”

Max still doesn’t say anything.

Charles doesn't know what hurts more — the silence, or the fact that Max is still sitting there.

He keeps going, because if he stops, he’ll start crying, and he doesn’t deserve to cry.

“I should’ve backed out. I know that. I should’ve just let it go.”

Max’s fingers twitch. A flinch in his jaw.

Charles doesn't look at him. He can’t.

“I didn’t want it to end like that.”

It was supposed to be Max’s year.

Charles was supposed to stand in parc fermé, watching the fireworks go off above Max’s head. He was supposed to watch him cry — but the good kind, the kind that tasted like gold and champagne and glory.

He was supposed to wait in the shadows, and maybe, later, when things had calmed down, find him. Pull him aside. Say something like, “You did it. I’m proud of you.” Not “I love you.” Never “I love you.” But something. Anything.

Not this.

Never this.

Max’s shoulder is brushing his.

He’s so still, but Charles can feel it — the thunder in him. The fury just beneath the surface, held back with the kind of restraint that hurts to witness.

“Max,” he says, quietly. “Say something.”

Max’s voice, when it comes, is low and taut, like piano wire pulled too tight.

“What do you want me to say?”

Charles flinches.

Max turns to look at him.

His eyes aren’t red. He isn’t crying. But they’re wrecked. Devastated in a way that can’t be put back together.

“I lost everything,” Max says. “Everything I’ve worked for. Everything I’ve—” He cuts himself off.

His jaw is shaking.

Charles wants to disappear.

“I know,” he whispers.

“No, you don’t.” Max laughs, short and sharp. “You’ll never understand. You’ve always been the favourite. The golden boy. You never had to fight like I did. You never had to claw for it. You had people handing you crowns before you could walk.”

“That’s not true—”

Max stands suddenly, like he can’t take it anymore.

But he doesn’t walk away.

He looks down at Charles. And for one awful second, Charles thinks he might hit him. That Max might finally let it all out.

But he doesn’t.

He just stands there, fists shaking, mouth trembling, the whole sky of him collapsing inward.

And then, quietly, he says, “You should’ve just let me have it.”

Charles nods.

He knows.

Max stares at him, like he’s trying to see something human behind Charles’ eyes and can’t find it.

Then he says, “I don’t hate you.”

It’s worse than if he did.

“But don’t come near me again.”

Charles nods again.

And then Max walks out of the room.

He doesn’t look back.

Charles stays where he is, staring down at his own bloody hands, shaking in silence.

He thinks of the corner. Of the blur. Of the second he thought he had it. The second he thought they’d make it out the other side.

He thinks of every year that brought them here.

Every lap.

Every time he held his tongue and said nothing.

Every time he watched Max walk away.

He thinks of the prayer he whispered into his gloves before the formation lap.

Let the best man win.

And now the best man is gone.

He doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t cry.

He just sits in the wreckage of something holy, and breathes like it’s a punishment.

And wishes the crash had taken him instead.

made me laugh and cry. 10/10 worst experience of my life. cant wait for this weekend.

ferrari will have to do FOUR pitstops im actually terrified for everyone involved 😭

Four pitstops because of two drivers right? So 2 and 2. We really gotta specify at this point because who the fuck knows what the next bizarre rule will be.

Fortunately, ferrari is extremely rapid with pitstops. Unfortunately, pitstops require a strategy.

👀👀👀

Okay quick fic idea- yall know how max pulled the franz hermann shit? But instead of the media spoiling it- no one knows it’s actually max, other than max and the official ppl involved ofc, and Danny ric- Danny always know. Cue Charles Leclercs unhinged crush on Franz and he’s talking to EVERYONE about it, Danny makes Max make an insta, Charles.loses.it. Ensue typical grid drama of wanting find out who this faceless driver is, the older grid members start a betting pool. The rookies act like it’s fanfic and start doing fanfic npc things once they find out Franz is Max. Charles finds out- has a breakdown- and then they get married in vegas and have a million babies godbless 😩🙏

lowkey will adjust to that reality if we ever get to hear "charles leclerc wins his first world championship" tbh.

devastating thought. last year could be the only time we ever hear the words "charles leclerc wins the monaco grand prix." anyways i'm doing well.

gentle reminder you can rise up from everything. you can recreate yourself. nothing is permanent. you are not stuck. you have choices. you can think new thoughts. you can learn something new. you can create new habits. all that matters is that you decide today and never look back.

i will say, i was unsure about going into bearnelli territory because they're literally like my kids and i baby them horribly (in my head) (we hold people accountable according to their age don't worry), but i have to say. they are certainly. new dimensions. they add new dimensions to your fics. it's like seeing your neighbour's kid grow up in front of your eyes. like what do you mean the people that were previously idiots e.g. lando, oscar, etc. are the mature ones now??? WHY ARE THE BABIES SO TALL AND GROWN UP NOW?? WHAT HAPPENED TO THE FOETUSES?

tldr: i really liked the soulmate fic 😭😭😭 the fact that ollie had to be told kimi's first name is andrea is just 😭😭😭😭

Thank you!!!! truly. I’m honoured my little chaos goblins could devastate you in new spiritual dimensions 🫡 They’ve been eating metaphorical growth hormones and trauma. It’s all character development, babyy.

ily I’m emotionally unstable now k byeee.

Music is wild like howd U make that lol

i have an unhealthy obsession with your works. in past days i’ve read almost all of them, some more than once, i keep sending favourite quotes to my bestie, i can’t be contained. crack is very much not my cup of tea but i eat up all of your writing like am starving.

yeah, so anyway, love your work, keep going

mate you have no idea how happy i am to hear that. thank you so so so much for reading❤️❤️❤️❤️

just read abt anatidaephobia and now I have an irrational fear. and also a plot to a crackfic that I don't know what to do with.