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eblouissantecharles · 4 years ago

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friend in me, — MICK SCHUMACHER

“fuck that car. fuck that team. and fuck that idiot teammate!”

the entire emotional disaster that mick was being at the moment was able to be heard from upstairs. it has been like that for more than a couple weeks now. always the same picture: he arriving home late, wanting nothing else than get into bed as fast as possible, denying with the whole situation he was going through. cursing at the sky, at the trees, at the nature. for some reason, never at you. it was clear that there was a problem since the beginning of the season. he know how it would be. everyone warned him that maybe haas was not the right team for him to be.

“are you sure about this?”

“i don't even know why, gina, but you're, like, the fifth person asking me that in the whole day. is there something you want to share with me?”

since the news saying that mick schumacher would be driving for haas next season came out, the whole motorsports world went crazy. finally, after years of waiting, a schumacher would be back at the grid. but, unlike what everyone was expecting, it would be happening in a little, shitty, incapable car. if it would ever be a car. after crowing as formula 2 champion, they were probably waiting something else, bit better.

“not that awful, defensive attitude with me. i'm trying to help.”

“good, gina, but this is not about winning or losing. at least not now. i know what i'm going ahead. it's probably not the best team, i know it, i swear i do. but i'm reaching my dream. for now, it's about learning. in a future, it'll be about winning, maybe even about a championship. just... support me and help me in a different way. i know what i'm doing. it's gonna be hard, so fucking hard. i know that. but it's my decision to make.”

he can't say gina didn't warned him.

“mick?”

lost around his anger, he didn't heard you coming from upstairs.

“liebe,” he said, letting a shaky sigh. “it's alright. go back to sleep.”

it was always like that. he trying to push away from all the difficulties, all the problems, all the stress. and, somehow, it was the poetic love that mick always had for you, his way to protect you from all the ghosts and hunters. but you were a team, and a relationship always works if both sides shares their worst faces, even the ugly ones. it's not alright, he's not alright. but he never, not even once, want to scare you with the scarier part of himself.

“it's not alright. i can see it.”

“i got this. just go back to sleep.”

you walk to him. without warn, you tangled him in your arms.

and that was enough for him to let it all out.

“what is it?”

he keeps crying, threatening your soul to break in two.

“i'm tired of all of this. i'm done. i don't want it.”

“mick, mick, mick. wait,” you pressured to talk before he does it again. “breathe with me, come on. like how you taught me, remember?” this whole thing was becoming a truly nightmare now and any of you were sure if you could manage it properly good.

after breathing in and breathing out, he was quite ready to talk.

you drive him to the couch, grabbing him a glass of water.

“i've been pushing away, right? i did it again.”

“you did. i got it, though. but you have to know you have a friend in me,” you begin. “i'm not like them, you can always count me in.”

staring at some spot on the floor, he starts confessing all his fears.

“they want me to be like him. i can't be like him if i'm barely me.”

all his life, mick had to face everyone saying he was the future of the schumacher name in formula one. a lot of praises that he was pretty sure only came because of his dad. maybe everything came because of his dad. maybe he wasn't good enough to be like michael was, like everyone expect him to be. maybe he's meant to.

“i know what you're doing. stop now.”

“uh?”

“that lost face, that lost look. stop it, it's not good.”

“it's not good? (y/n), i'm not good! look at me, look at this mess! it's all coming down and i can't stop it. shit, this is eating me all alive.”

“one day, i want to be like him,” little mick said.

“like who, honey?”

“like dad.”

corinna looked at him with teary eyes and a cute smile installed on her face.

“you will.”

life was going to be hard for little mick.

“then let's make it throw it all out.”

“what?”

“stand up. and get ready. we're going out for a walk.”

after driving for half an hour, you were finally there. at your spot.

“not fair. you're blackmailing me.”

“that's not totally true,” you say laughing a bit.

walking through the forest was something mick and you used to do before everything went crazy. it was calm. stepping on the leaves, kicking rocks and feeling the fresh breeze on your faces. it was the perfect way to let it all out. and he needed it desperately.

“to be honest, it's not like how i expected it to be,” sitting on a rock, mick was letting all his ghosts to climb into the surface.

“what were you expecting?”

“no podiums, that's for sure. but, i don't know, something different. not better, not perfect. different. guess i went too far this time.”

“no, you didn't,” you answer. “that's why we're here, mick. to dream. we live because of dreams. your dream is to success, that's a pretty fair dream, mick. it's not going too far. i promise, my love.”

“am i gonna make it?” he asks after minutes of silence.

“i swear you will,” you say. “maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. maybe it'll happen in years. but you're gonna make it, mick. really.”

he looks at the stars just to look at you afterwards.

how did he get so lucky?

“i'm sorry for pushing you away all this time.”

“it's alright, love. now you know it, you got a friend in me.”

“just a friend?”

“mick!”

“have you ever make it in a forest?”

“god, mick, shut up!”

the night went through while watching you both laughing and kissing, enjoying each other's company. the night knew as well the time for mick to make it was coming. it was just a matter of time.

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eblouissantecharles · 4 years ago

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red, — CHARLES LECLERC

there has always been something in charles leclerc that wasn't able to be seen in anyone else. maybe it was his passion, the efforts he always had put in everything he was doing. it could also be his love, the admiration always holding his green eyes that always seems to be dedicated to you. or maybe it was that way he used to have a red cap embracing his hair, messing with it, making it hard to brush sometimes but that always fitted so well in him.

that cap, that red cap. his favorite one, the one his father gave him.

“look what my dad gave me! isn't it pretty?”

you remember every part of him loving red, always wearing red. red clothes, red stuff, red sheets, red room, red love. at that point, even loving him was red. a pretty red, a calm red, a passionate red.

“i swear to god, (y/n), that i just met the love of my life,” he said a night.

any of you understood what love meant back then, that's why it was an unknown for you why your heart hurts so bad.

“oh,” you just said. “that's good, i guess. how does she looks like?”

“who?”

“the love of your life.”

“right. i'm not quite sure if it's a girl or a boy, to be honest.”

“what?”

“i was watching formula one today and i saw it. red, bright, like if it was some kind of fantasy. the car of my dreams. i want one like that one, guess i'll ask one to santa.”

you breathed easy when you realized he was talking about a car. and not just any car, he was talking about the ferrari car, the michael schumacher's car.

“it's from ferrari,” you talk. charles looked at you with confusion painting his eyes. “the car, i mean. it's from ferrari. michael schumacher drives it, he's about to be champion.”

“cool,” he said. “one day, i'm gonna drive a ferrari as well. just like schumacher.”

it seemed like a far dream. hard but not impossible to get. he was making his way right to his formula one debut. and it happened, sauber signed with him and he did his job, marveling everyone. and doing the same thing with the main man, mattia binotto. suddenly, the dream was a couple blocks away. and just like that, charles was wearing a red cap back again, but this time it was the ferrari red cap. it was a fact, he was driving for scuderia ferrari. like michael once did, like he once promised. it was all happening now.

“amour, i made a mistake,” he said arriving home.

“what happened?”

he was shaken by his emotions, looking desperate, almost lost.

“i told my dad that i signed with ferrari.”

the silence filled out the room, waiting for him to be joking.

“but you didn't,” was the only thing you get to say.

“i know!”

your warm embrace was enough for him to start crying and sobbing.

“you can cry now. also tomorrow. you can cry as much as you want, charles. but you have a promise to fulfill now.”

next week, charles' dad passed away.

he was broken, tired, bereaved. but he made a promise.

just like every dream he had in his life, the dream of being a ferrari driver was impulsed by his dad. and he will write his story in the yellow background with a black horse book. he will drive for ferrari.

it took him endless nights, entire days practicing, training his body and mind. there were days where you couldn't even see each other, wasted time and dates. but everything was worth the wait if, ending the chapter, you was seeing him portraying that red cap.

“red suits good on you.”

“do you like it?”

“if i like it? it could be a bit more than that.”

“how much more?”

“very much more, darling.”

and with the dream and success, the insecurities also came.

specially now, at the beginning of a new season after a rough one.

he wasn't sure if he was still living the dream.

maybe that's why he was locked in the bathroom right now.

“come out so we can talk this through, charlie.”

“i don't want to. you should go take a nap, honey.”

even if a door was separating the two of you, it was clear in your being that he's been crying. and you know the reason behind it. the nightmare took and was making a mess out of him, killing him.

“i can go downstairs, take the copy key, come back here and open the door. there's no way out, charlie. please, talk to me, darling.”

he said nothing.

“or we can talk this way,” you propose. “is it that easier for you? i won't open the door, i know you don't want me to. we can talk through the door. like elsa and anna did in the movie, remember?”

“no. anna was the only one who talked. elsa ignored her.”

“want to or not?”

after minutes of silence, he started.

“i'm just scared,” he said with crystal eyes and threatening tears. “i don't even know where to begin. carlos made it. four podiums, fifth in the driver standings. and what did i get? two poles, one podium and a fucking seventh place. why is it so damn hard for me and so incredibly easy for him? i just want, for once, the stars on my side.”

you knew he was crying now, and you were crying with him.

your charles, your beautiful, strong and so talented charles was doubting himself. maybe the stars weren't on his side the last season, but something inside you was telling that they will this one and everything will fit in its place once and for all. you just feel it.

“it has been bad luck. and life is full of it. some people breathe luck and some others have to make their ways to it. sometimes, luck's an awful bitch. like now. luck is believing you're lucky. and carlos probably thinks he's lucky. and this sport is full of lucky as well. we all know that. but you're not here because of good luck. you have your sit on the ferrari book because you earned it. that was no lucky. you deserve it so fucking much, charles. i know it. and this whole past season has been just a bunch of bad luck. but it's all over now and we can have a fresh restart. they're doing their best just for you. you're their main man. the stars will be on your side, mon coeur. let's write a new chapter about you in the ferrari book.”

behind the door, charles was doing his best trying not to cry.

there were ups and downs.

maybe he was going down, but he was doing it with you.

“the stars are on my side 'cause i have you.”

“you will always have me.”

what a lucky man.

“(y/n)?”

“hm-hm?”

“love me tender.”

you smile instantly.

“love me sweet.”

“all my dreams fulfilled,” he keeps singing.