Chapter Text
Charles didn't stick around to the podium ceremony, or the Ferrari team debrief for that matter. No, after he parked his Ferrari in parc fermé and had said the fewest words possible to the media, he took the fastest route possible towards his motorhome to get rid of any Ferrari branded clothes.
P14 was an absolute joke. Being told that there would be heavy rain on the next lap, rain that didn't come for another fifteen minutes, was an even bigger joke. Boxing for Inters, while the track was still bone dry, getting lapped for the third race in five weeks was possibly the biggest joke.
He hoped he could forget this triple header all together, hell maybe it was better if he could return to the Monaco weekend and the high of winning at home and forget that the season would continue afterwards.
Charles was frustrated, he was angry and if he could he wouldn't have talked to another person in the next 24 hours. But of course being a driver for the biggest Team in Formula 1 wouldn't allow him that luxury.
Before he could leave the paddock all together, one of Silvia’s minions caught him and dragged him back to their garage, where their head of PR was already waiting.
“Charles, non puoi sparire così. Sapete che abbiamo ancora un video post-gara da filmare.” [Charles, you can't vanish like that. You know we still have a post-race video to film.]
Making up pretty words to sooth the hurt feelings of their loyal followers was literally the last thing on Charles' mind right now, but one of their camera people was already shoving a phone in his face, while Silvia was handing him a Ferrari hoodie and waited impatiently for him to put it on. Then, when he seemed to be at a loss of words, she scoffed and one of their interns handed her a piece of paper.
“Leggi questo. E almeno cerca di farlo sembrare autentico." [Read this. And at least try to make it sound genuine.]
With the stormy look in her eyes, Charles didn't really want to find out what would happen if he protested that, so he tried his best to smile and not make it look like he was reading a script. (He knew his fans would pick up on that, they were smart, they would notice the difference of this video compared to the others they'd done this year.)
As soon as he had said the last words and the camera was turned off, he pulled off the hoodie again, as if it had burned him, not caring that this would make Silvia hate him even more. Then, without another word, he turned around and left the garage.
He needed to get away as fast as possible. As far as possible too. The Rosso Corsa, that he usually wore with so much pride, seemed to suffocate him with every step that he could still see it in the corner of his eyes.
This season, which had looked like it could be really hopeful (until he stepped on the brakes for the first time in Bahrain and his car had done everything but what he wanted it to do), had quickly turned from bad to worse. While RedBull finally seemed to struggle and McLaren was on the uprising, Ferrari pulled one disasterclass after the other. The only reason why the Papaya team wasn't leading the championship yet, was the fact that RedBull still had Max Verstappen driving for them – and Lando still seemed determined to bottle as many races as he had done before his win in Miami.
Charles wanted to scream (and cry). He had hoped that with Fred everything would be better, but so far it seemed to only get worse. Even the Frenchman seemed to succumb to the pressure and was making comments that reminded Charles too much of Fred's predecessor.
This was supposed to be his year, but apart from finally getting him that long wanted Monaco win, it had done absolutely nothing for him. Now he could only hope that 2025, with a new teammate – a teammate he got along with way better so far – at his side would finally be better, but too often it seemed had he said ‘Next year will be my year!’ only to be left wanting and disappointed by the results..
Not that all his problems had been because of Carlos, but many things would have certainly been easier for him. This last season had already become a difficult one for both of them, Charles already trying to search for comfort near Lewis, while Carlos was searching for a new team that would take him for next year.
Carlos and him had never been the bestest of friends, but they had seemingly grown even further apart over this year. Some of it also stemmed from the way the media always seemed to praise Carlos and talk down on Charles, the way their own PR team never said anything to stop the verbal abuse. How they would let Carlos talk his mouth about this team, while Silvia always looked ready to murder him if he even said one word out of place.
He was glad that most of their PR team would be leaving with Carlos, so hopefully coming next year everything would change and he wouldn't always be reminded of his failures (or made to blame himself for Ferrari’s failures). Sometimes Charles wished that he could go back in time and… maybe change his contract… or fix all the mistakes he had made and convince this team that he was the driver they would have to please to bring the championship trophies back to Maranello.
Charles ignored the sudden spell of dizziness as he finally locked his hotel room door behind himself, but when he sat down onto the couch everything suddenly went blurry and when he regained his senses he was not in Silverstone anymore.