schatje. / mon cher .
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"I want to fight against you, but I'm fucking fighting against my own car,-" The side of Charles' fist slams into his chest. "-my own team-" His fist slams again, harder, makes sure it hurts, "-and I know they're all doing their best, so I should be the one doing better, I should be better, but- I- I just--"
Charles' voice splinters with seething rage and swears, rivulets of despair bleeding through spiderweb cracks. He can't breathe. Fingers curl into his shirt, nails trying to rip through fabric, and break skin.
Closing his eyes, Charles struggles against the merciless, shameful burn of tears. "I'm so sorry, Max."
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(Guilt haunts Charles for how he can't give Max his best in these races. And fear insists that Max won't have any reason to stay with him.)Series
- Part 1 of schatje. / mon cher .
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Quietly in Dutch, Max confesses, "I'm so fucking in love you. It's always been you for me. Only you. But I know I need you more than you'll ever need me."
Charles doesn't understand the words, but he feels the weight of Max's heart in every syllable. He returns the embrace tightly until their bones ache. In French, he murmurs, "You're everything to me. I swear, I'll protect you. Even if you don't feel the same, I'll always be in love with you."
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(Moments between Charles and Max. The storms. The softness. And the love that runs through everything.)Series
- Part 2 of schatje. / mon cher .