Chapter Text
“And what's the timeframe before you get all… you know?” Pierre asked in soft French, running his hand gently through Charles' hair.
“It depends on what I get," Charles explained, his voice still a bit wobbly. "It also depends on the person… and the meaningfulness of it. It's super random. There’s no way to know exactly, really.”
Pierre nodded silently, mulling over his answer in his mind.
Usually, on a normal Wednesday, Charles would be getting ready for the race week end, packing his clothes, rehashing the track in his mind, reviewing some telemetry… He would definitely not be here, lying on his couch with his head on Pierre's lap.
“You can’t raw dog this thing mate. You need a plan,” Pierre finally said, stilling his hand.
“Watch me," Charles said petulantly.
“Charles," Pierre chided him, "this could be dangerous to race like that.”
“What should I do then? Not race? And announce it to the world? I’m pathetic enough as it is. Let’s not give them more reasons to pity me.”
Pierre sighed in defeat, knowing there was no way to reason with his friend when he was like this.
*
This whole mess had started last Sunday. It had been a nice day. The sun was out and Charles had gotten up early for a quick run with Leo. Afterwards, he had stopped at his favorite coffee shop to get a latte and a croissant, then headed home. He had played the piano for a while, just because he could, he had nothing planned, just a day to himself.
After a few hours though, he had started to feel a bit — how to say — brittle. A wave of sadness had suddenly washed over him as he hit the keys. It was not the first time it happened, piano could make him emotional, but this time felt different…
Next thing he knew, tears were rolling down his cheeks, without stopping.
Maybe the stress of the racing season had gotten to his head. Depression wasn’t unheard of in Formula 1, far from it. Maybe it was just the exhaustion — he had been sleeping very poorly lately. There was probably a perfectly rational explanation for him to be unable to stop crying. So, he went to bed and told himself it would all be better in the morning, after a good night of sleep.
Then, he had started crying as soon as he woke up. Something was definitely up.
*
"When was the last time someone hugged you?" The doctor asked, on the following day, after Charles had been crying almost non-stop for the past twenty-four hours.
"What?" Charles said, sniffling and wiping his eyes.
“You are severely touch-starved Mr Leclerc," the doctor explained quietly, pushing the tissue box towards his patient. "You're the worst case I've ever seen, to be honest. Your body is screaming for physical affection, which causes this… heightened emotivity and anxiety."
"Can I just have depression like normal people?" Charles asked, his voice breaking on the last syllable. He grabbed a tissue from the box.
"All the signs are there," the doctor said, like it all made sense.
The thing was, Charles loved physical affection — hugs, kisses, cuddles, all of it. He usually showered his loved ones with them, but he had broken up with his girlfriend a few months ago and he had been so busy with racing lately, he had not seen his family or friends in a while… When was the last time someone hugged him ? A fresh surge of tears filled his eyes when he realized he could not answer the question.
“How — how do we fix this?” He mumbled, trying to hold back a sob.
“Well, with touch, obviously," the doctor said with his ever-quiet tone. "I recommend lots of it, for prolonged period of time and from different people. Once your body has properly recharged its physical affection deficiency, you should be back to normal. It shouldn't take more than a month, if you do it properly."
“A month," Charles repeated slowly.
"Yes."
"How am I supposed to race until then? How am I supposed to do anything?" he finally exploded angrily. He sounded like a whiny child, even to his own ears.
The doctor ignored his screaming and gently patted his arm. And yeah, that felt good.
"Do you have someone that could help?" The doctor asked.
"I have a dog?" Charles answered, full of hope.
The level of pity Charles saw in the doctor's eyes would keep him up at night for decades.
"Someone human?"
"No."
*
Charles had first thought that a little touch would do. His family was out of town, so instead he went out with some friends — got a few high fives, pats on the back and even a quick one-night stand with a girl he met at the club.
He thought it would be fine. Of course it was not. Charles had been humiliated before, but not as much as when he had to rush out of the girl's place full-on sobbing because she didn’t kiss him goodbye.
Apparently, his condition required some sort of emotional connection too. Fucking great. That’s how he ended up dialing his best friend at 7 am, while bawling his eyes out.
*
“Pierre!” Charles hissed across the paddock, as he saw his friend exit the Alpine hospitality.
Charles was crouched down behind some motorhome, trying to stay hidden from view. He had jumped there in a rush as soon as he had started to feel his shoulders shake and his chin tremble. He had been waiting for his friend to come out for thirty minutes, now.
"Pierre!!" He whisper-shouted again, a bit louder this time.
Pierre finally spotted him and quickly joined him.
"Charles?" he said, keeping his voice low as well, "do you need —"
"Please."
Pierre did not need to be asked twice and immediately pulled Charles into a tight hug.
The Monegasque let out an immediate sigh of relief when he felt his friend's arms around him. The dark and unwelcome feelings slowly receded to the back of his mind. Charles pushed his face into his friend's shoulder and inhaled deeply.
“Thanks,” he whispered against the fabric.
“You okay?" Pierre asked, rubbing his back soothingly, "we hugged an hour ago.”
“I think it lasts less when I’m stressed or anxious. Which I constantly am with this bloody thing happening to me," Charles mumbled in his shoulder, "as if Ferrari strategies weren’t enough…”
Pierre looked at his friend with a worried frown.
“Are you sure you can race, calamar?”
“I’ll be fine. It’s just gonna be a long weekend," Charles promised, trying to muster a smile. He did not manage to.
*
P2. Fucking P2. He really should get some sort of award for racing that well in those conditions. Had someone ever completed a Formula 1 race while sobbing their way through the last ten laps ? He didn't think so.
Charles had tried to get as much touch in before the race. From his PR manager, from Pierre, from his team engineer — they were the only ones who knew about his condition. It had not been enough. By lap 43, his vision had started to blur.
He was surprised that his helmet was not overflowing yet. How was he supposed to take it off now ? There was no way he was getting photographed crying after a P2. And how was he supposed to go through the podium celebrations and interviews ?
Before he could spiral any further, a warm hand grabbed his waist, another landing firmly on his shoulder. And oh. Hi. His tears stopped flowing instantly.
“Good race, Charles. You were amazing out there.”
A sweaty Max Verstappen was standing in front of him, smiling brightly at him. Charles blinked at him slowly before helplessly smiling back through his helmet.
“Yeah, you too. I really thought I would catch you,” Charles replied, suddenly finding his voice again.
“You almost did," Max grinned, squeezing his waist.
Charles felt the last of his anxiety vanish into the air. It was easy to debrief the race with Max, while his hands were on him, grounding him.
As they walked towards the media pen, Charles finally felt confident enough to take off his helmet, hoping the redness of his face could pass for a consequence of the Miami heat, weighing down on them.
Max stayed close during the podium celebration, absentmindedly touching Charles — a hand on his shoulder while he climbed on the top step or an arm across his back as they pressed together for a picture.
Charles had never noticed how much Max touched him. It felt good. Such fleeting touches would usually not last him much more than an hour but he didn’t feel the urge to cry once during the next three hours. Uh. Maybe he could do this.
*
The next race weekend, in Italy, was slightly easier to navigate. Arthur was in the paddock with him on Thursday and Friday, so Charles was able to cling to his (reluctant) brother most of the time. He also used every excuse he could to touch — well, everyone. Discreetly squeezing the shoulders of engineers, slapping the back of other drivers, hugging people hello — that kind of thing. Even if "stolen touch" were not as effective as "given" touch, as he had discovered, they still helped.
Charles felt like a ninja of physical affection and his main target — even if he would not ever confess it out-loud — was Max. There was just something about his touch that soothed him instantly and made his mind go completely quiet. A simple brush of their shoulders could win Charles almost two hours of peace. It filled him with both happiness and exasperation. The guy already had four WDC and he had to be P1 on hugs, too ?
Thanks to his elaborate strategy, the weekend was going fine. He only had two minor meltdowns since he arrived in Italy, which was great progress compared to the last race weekend. He was handling it.
That was until that fateful team meeting on Friday evening. It was almost nine and Fred was deep into a powerpoint presentation about Sunday's weather conditions. The meeting should have ended forty-five minutes ago. Charles was fidgeting in his seat, playing nervously with the strings of his sweater. He could feel his anxiety slowly bubbling to the surface, his skin screaming for attention. He looked left and right, trying to find someone, anyone, to reach for, just a handshake would help… But it was too late and soon warm little drops were falling on the table, leaving big spots on the telemetry papers in front of him.
"Charles, are you okay?" Lewis asked, eyes wide as he noticed his wet cheeks.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," Charles blubbered, furiously wiping his cheeks with his sleeve.
All eyes had turned to him, everyone looked absolutely horrified to see their predestined driver in tears over the latest data.
"The weather conditions can still improve Charles, it's gonna be okay," one of his engineers tried.
"Yeah, and the clutch will be working much better than last week," another chimed in.
"No, no, guys, I know it's…" Charles tried to explain but his voice was just lost in his sobs.
Nobody seemed to know what to do, throwing each other terrified glances, whispering between themselves. Charles wanted to disappear into a hole in the ground, but he could not even find the strength to get out of the room.
After what felt like an hour, his PR-manager appeared in front of him. She gripped his shoulders firmly and guided him out of the meeting room, under the bewildered stare of the staff.
"It's okay, Charles." She shushed him gently, "Let's find Pierre or Arthur, yeah ?"
Charles could hear the murmurs getting louder in the room he had just left. What was his team going to think ? What could he possibly say to explain this ? His crying got louder and Silvia's soothing hand on his back was useless against it.
*
"This can't carry on like this, Charles," Pierre said, once his friend had stopped shaking in his arms.
They had been huddled together on the couch of Pierre's hotel room for an hour now and Charles had been starting to doze off, feeling warm and safe in the embrace of his friend.
"You can't cry your way through every Grand Prix," Pierre continued. "And my arms are cramping from holding you."
"I am not retiring from the race." Charles said firmly.
"I'm not talking about forfeiting the race," Pierre amended. "Just… We need more people on this."
Charles let out a long-suffering sigh at this, but he knew deep down that Pierre was right.
"What do you have in mind?" He asked, admitting defeat.
*
Charles woke up on Saturday morning with dry eyes — for once. His long cuddle session with Pierre last night had helped a lot, but he could still feel the vulnerability swimming just under his skin, ready to claw its way out at any moment.
He gulped down the anxiety that came with it and grabbed his phone, his fingers hovering over the screen for a minute.
Charles and Pierre
Saturday
Charles
Do we have to?
Pierre
Yes.
Charles
Urgh. Fine.
Pierre has created "Charles emotional support group"
Pierre has added: Alex, Charles, Carlos, Esteban, Fernando, George, Kimi, Lando, Lewis, Max, Ollie, Oscar
Charles emotional support group
Saturday
Lando
????
Charles
Did you have to name it like that? 😭
Pierre
Yes.
Now speak.
Carlos
@Charles what's going on?
Charles
Hi guys ! There's something I need to tell you, but you have to promise not to make fun of me.
Lando
SOunds like smthing we're gonna make fun of u for but go on
Pierre
Be nice, guys. this is important
Carlos
Come on, spill 🌶
George
This better be about professional matters, Charles.
Charles
ok so
I have a medical condition
Ollie
Oh no, are you okay? 🥺
Charles
I am most definitely NOT
i am apparently "severely touched-starved"
Max
??????
Lando
WHAT 😭😭😭
Carlos
that's called being single
Pierre
GUYS
its serious
Charles
SO
basically
If I dont get enough physical affection for a while, I start crying
im talking full breakdown
Lewis
That explains SO MUCH
Charles
yeah, sorry you had to witness that 🥲
Fernando
Is this a prank?
Charles
I WISH IT WAS
but no
im a very pathetic man
Oscar
This is… sad
George
How much "affection" do you need to be like… not crying?
Charles
It depends
From what I've gathered
A handshake can last me 20 mins
A hug is about an hour, two if it's a good one
But it also depends on who I'm touching, how close we are 🤷🏻♀️
Oscar
wtf
Carlos
Is that why you've been weirdly clingy the last few days? 🤨
Charles
…
I was trying to be subtle 🥲
Alex
Mate, you hugged me hello like four times yesterday 😭
Charles
Sorry 😭
Pierre
ANYWAY
thats why we decided to tell you guys
so you can help Charles too
If you run into him in the paddock, just don't hold back on the affection
He needs it so he can go through the weekend without being a crying mess
Esteban
That's the weirdest thing I've ever been asked to do
George
I feel like this needs some boundaries
Lando
Does this mean we get to hug you whenever we want?
Charles
sadly, yes
please do it
Lando
Hell yeah, Charles gives the best hugs, can't wait 🤩
Oscar
You are deranged
Alex
You can count on me, Charles 🫡
Ollie
And me 🫶🏻
Charles
Thanks guys
And please not one word of this to the press
I don't need them harassing me
Carlos
Just tell them you're crying about Ferrari tyre strategy, hermano
Lewis
I could cry about that too
Lando
💀
Max and Charles
Saturday
Max
Is that why you've been more tactile than usual with me?
Charles
No…?
ok yeah maybe
sorry
Max
ok
Charles
it's just that your hugs are really efficient
Idk why
but they work super well
Max
they do?
Charles
yeah
Max
well
I guess I'll try to provide as much as possible then
Charles
Merci Max ☺️
Max
😊