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Pierre noticed in the side mirror how Charles' Ferrari was getting closer. Ferrari's poor pit stop seemed to have placed Charlie further back in the grid. Although it was fun to battle on the track with his Boyfriend, Pierre knew he couldn't keep Charles behind him for long.
Nevertheless, he decided to focus on Kevin Magnussen in the Haas in front of him for the moment. Pierre executed a perfect turn, activated his DRS, and accelerated his Alpine. With impressive speed, he passed Magnussen and prepared to brake for the upcoming turn.
But then the unexpected happened. In the moment Pierre tried to slow down, he felt a hard impact from behind. The collision with Kevin Magnussen was abrupt, and the suspension on the Alpine broke, causing the car to spin out of control. Pierre's Alpine was thrown over the gravel at high speed, and the world around him turned into an uncontrollable whirlpool. The control over the car slipped away from him, and amidst the chaotic movements, everything around Pierre turned black.
The silence after the impact was deafening.
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Pierre blinked slightly, trying to grasp his surroundings. He heard a voice in his ear, but the words sounded like a distant echo, unclear and difficult to understand. He tried to move his head, but a sharp pain shot through his body, and with this pain came the sudden awareness of pain throughout his entire body. Pierre gasped for air, realizing only now that he hadn't been breathing for a while. He coughed and tasted something metallic. Was it blood? What had happened?
The voice reached his ear again. "..erre... Pe... Pi..." Pierre squinted his eyes and tried to decipher the words. His head was pounding, and everything roared so loudly in his ears. The person had to speak louder. Pierre gasped for air again and opened his eyes once more. Shadows danced in front of him, and the metallic taste intensified. Suddenly, the memory of the crash returned. Kevin! Was Kevin okay?!
"Pierre? Can you hear me? Press any button on the steering wheel if you can hear me. I need to know if you're okay! Pierre, please!" he heard his engineer over the headset. Ah, that was the voice. Pierre wanted to press a button, but his hands didn't obey. He saw them trembling on his lap. Well, he wasn't sure if they trembled because of the shadows he saw, but it felt that way. He wanted to signal that he was awake, that he was alive. But his body didn't allow it.
Something wet ran down his cheeks. He couldn't determine if it was blood or tears. Pierre gasped for air again. Why did he keep forgetting to breathe? Shouldn't that work automatically? He blinked vigorously. The pain in his head intensified, and the helmet pressed unbearably. "Pierre... please," he heard the desperation in his race engineer's voice. And he felt so sorry. He wanted so much to respond, to let his team know that he was there. But his body was a silent barrier between him and the outside world, and he could do nothing but listen and hope that the darkness around him would soon fade away. His eyes burned, and it became increasingly difficult to keep them open.
His thoughts drifted to Charles. Was he already back on the podium? Surely! His Boyfriend deserved it more than anyone else, and he was so talented. Charles always got back up on his feet, no matter how many obstacles Ferrari put in his way. Pierre admired this quality...
Before he could think further, he felt someone touch his helmet and lean over him. It got darker. Then the visor was lifted, and Pierre looked into two blue eyes. "He's awake!" shouted the owner of those eyes while frantically waving his arms. The car moved, causing a sharp pain to shoot through his body. Pierre groaned softly and took a deep breath again. Why did he keep forgetting to breathe? Why was the pressure on his chest so strong? And why was no one helping him out of the car? His eyes kept closing.
He saw people looking into his visor and talking to him, but he couldn't hear. A loud noise drowned everything out. He saw someone take off the steering wheel and felt someone release the HANS system. But the moment someone reached under his arms to pull him out of the car, the pain became too much. Pierre groaned loudly, and then everything went black.
The darkness engulfed him, and the world around him blurred into an unclear mist. There was no clear thought anymore, only a painful rhythm of his heartbeat mixing with the uncertainty of his situation. It was like a touch and go.
Pierre came to himself briefly over and over again. He blinked as they took off his helmet. Brown eyes of an older man looked into his, while he shone a small lamp into his eyes. The man's lips moved frantically, but Pierre's ears were filled with a loud noise. Then everything went black again.
The next time he blinked, a tube was shoved into his throat, and Pierre wanted to fight against it. The pain was insanely intense. He saw blurry as someone in front of his face repeatedly pressed a balloon or something similar, and finally, Pierre could breathe. Finally, he didn't forget anymore.
The next time he opened his eyes, it was almost panic. The man leaned over him, and his chest hurt extremely. The tube was still in his throat, and before Pierre could think further to understand that he was intubated because he couldn't breathe on his own, it went black again. The pain was just too overwhelming. The back and forth between consciousness and darkness was an agonizing journey for Pierre, accompanied by pain and uncertainty about his situation. The older man above him worked tirelessly as Pierre staggered between the harsh reality of pain and fleeting moments of unconsciousness.
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After a poorly done 10-second pit stop, Charles rejoined the track in 9th position behind Pierre. Naturally, it frustrated him, but he couldn't change the situation and now had to make the best of it. He approached Pierre slowly, on the verge of entering his DRS range. While he enjoyed challenging his boyfriend, he also wanted to get back on the podium, and that would be tough. Charles watched as Pierre accelerated perfectly out of the turn, using DRS to pass the Haas. It was an impressive overtaking maneuver, and Charles was so proud of him, of what he achieved in the Alpine.
But suddenly, everything happened quickly. Magnussen braked too late and collided with Pierre's Alpine. It spun out of control and crashed into the barrier at full speed. Kevin came to a stop just before the barrier. Charles held his breath as he witnessed the horrifying crash of his loved one right before his eyes. It took all his strength not to stop and pass by. He knew Pierre wouldn't have wanted that. Pierre would be okay.
The tension in Charles' chest grew as he made sure to keep driving. He tried to suppress the worry inside him and focus on the race. Deep in his heart, he prayed that Pierre was okay, and he forced himself to keep going, driven by the hope that the love of his life would be unharmed. "Red Flag, Charles! Red Flag!" Xavi's voice echoed through the radio. "Is Pierre okay?" Charles asked anxiously, "Slow down and come back to..." "Xavi! Is Pierre okay?" Charles asked with more emphasis and nearly snapped at Xavi. He knew what Red Flag meant. It was more important for him to know how his Boyfriend was doing. "We are checking!" Charles took a deep breath when he heard that. He slowed down and returned to the pit lane. Pierre had to be okay. Charles couldn't bear another loss, not after Jules and Anthoine, not after his Papa. He had lost enough important people in his life. He couldn't lose Pierre too. It just couldn't happen. He was already at his limit.
Charles brought the car to a stop and turned it off. He quickly climbed out and took off his helmet. Without hesitation, he rushed to the Ferrari pit wall. "How is Pierre?" he asked immediately. Fred looked at him. "He's not responding over the radio. The marshals are getting him out of the car, but apparently, he was conscious for the moment," he explained. Charles' heart started beating faster. "For the moment?!" he exclaimed in a voice much too high. Fred reassuringly placed his hand on his shoulder. "I don't know more. It seems he lost consciousness when they pulled him out!" Charles looked at Fred in disbelief. Pierre had lost consciousness. Pierre had been awake but unable to operate the radio. A heavy feeling settled on Charles' chest. Pierre wasn't doing well.
Slowly, Charles walked towards the garage, oblivious to his surroundings. On the contrary, everything blurred before his eyes due to the tears forming in them. Each step became heavier as the reality of the moment crashed down on him. The concern for Pierre weighed heavily on him, and the uncertainty intensified the darkness spreading within him. His breath became heavier, and the speed of his heartbeat increased. Charles felt a panic attack rising, and it wasn't the first one that had haunted him. However, he had never experienced them in the presence of other people before. Charles lifted his gaze and looked directly into the cameras of the television networks. A panicked pressure settled on his chest. He had to get to Pierre. Pierre knew how to control a panic attack. Pierre knew how... Charles was about to rush to Alpine when it hit him like a blow that Pierre was the reason for his attack.
His breath became even heavier, and he felt like he couldn't breathe. Why wasn't anyone helping him? The world around him blurred as the cameras continued to focus on him. Charles fought against the onslaught of panic, his mind tormented by the certainty that Pierre was in trouble, and he couldn't help him. Each step became torture, and the people around him seemed to disappear into a distant fog. In that moment, Charles would have given anything to be with Pierre, to calm him and at the same time overcome his own panic. But the uncertainty about how Pierre was doing intensified the intensity of the panic attack that had a firm grip on him. He couldn't breathe anymore! Why wasn't anyone helping him? Why was everyone just staring at him?
A furious voice echoed through the Ferrari garage and hit Charles like thunder. He felt someone gently grabbing his shoulders and skillfully maneuvering him through the hectic hustle. The path led him to his room at Ferrari, but the urgency of the moment left Charles little time to comprehend. A suffocating feeling of powerlessness overwhelmed him as he entered the room. His breath hitched, and his body trembled with fear as unstoppable tears rolled down his cheeks. Someone pushed him onto the bed, and in this critical moment, Max appeared in front him. His soothing voice cut through the silence: "Charlie, you need to breathe with me, understand? Inhale deeply and exhale!" Max placed Charles' hand on his chest and demonstrated the calming breathing. Charles needed a few attempts before he slowly began to breathe more regularly again. Max's presence, his help, and support meant infinitely much to Charles. As he took a deep breath, Charles briefly closed his eyes. "Pierre..." he whispered, and tears streamed down his cheeks. "Shhh, Charlie... it's okay," Max reassured him gently.
"Pierre is on the way to the hospital. He's getting help." Max softly embraced Charles and held him tightly. Max was among the few who knew about Charles' relationship with Pierre, and he couldn't even imagine how difficult it was for Charles right now. "What matters is that you calm down. Pierre needs your support, and you can't give it to him if you can't breathe out of fear," Max said calmly. Internally, Max seethed with indignation. He couldn't understand why no one had pulled Charles out of this tormenting situation earlier. Charles' voice broke into a soft sob as he struggled with the words, "I... I can't lose someone else. I can't go to another funeral. I can't handle it. Not with Pierre... I can't lose Pierre." His suffering heart seemed to bear the burden of past losses, and the thought of losing Pierre too choked him. This loss would be unbearable for him, and he knew he couldn't endure it. The tears running down his cheeks were silent witnesses of his deep despair. Pierre wasn't just a part of his life; he was the reason Charles had kept getting back up despite everything. Pierre was his light in the darkness, the anchor that stabilized him, and the thought of losing this light seemed to open an abyss within him.
Max gently embraced him, and his words tried to offer comfort. "You don't have to bury Pierre. You won't lose Pierre. He's strong. You know him! He still has too many plans and silly jokes to go already," Max tried to uplift Charles a little. But the words echoed like a faint whisper in the depth of Charles' pain. Charles nodded slightly as he tried to regain control over his tumultuous emotions. "It's too early for him... but it was for Jules and for Anthoine too," he whispered. "But Pierre... Pierre promised me he'd stay." His voice, tinged with sorrow, echoed through the room, and in those words lay the delicate glimmer of hope that this promise standing between them wouldn't be broken. Max gently stroked Charles' back, a gesture expressing more compassion and comfort than words ever could. The Dutchman couldn't imagine the pain Charles was going through and silently prayed that he would never have to experience such a painful ordeal.
Slowly, under Max's touch, Charles calmed down. His breathing became more even, and gradually, some color returned to his pale face. Max recognized that Charles was gathering himself to face the painful reality. A knock on the door interrupted the moment, and Fred entered. With a calm voice, he shared the news, "The race has been canceled. It won't be finished." Charles looked up and questioned him with his gaze. "I've taken you off media duties. You can go to the hospital. Pierre is still in surgery. Go to him," Fred said, and his encouraging smile had a soothing effect on Charles, who nodded immediately. As Fred left the room, Charles stood up and reached for his phone.
"Charles!... Charlie, hey!" Max said gently, also standing up. "Get changed first," he continued, smiling. "You're still wearing your race suit. While you change, I'll have a quick word with Christian. I'll drive you to the hospital. I don't want you driving in your condition." Max smiled and stepped briefly outside to call Christian.
Charles stared at the door for a moment before shaking his head and changing. In that moment, he felt infinitely grateful for his friends, especially for Max, who didn't leave him alone in this painful moment.
Not even half an hour later, the two found themselves in the hospital. Charles approached the information desk and explained almost anxiously, "My friend has been admitted here. He came from the racetrack. He should be or was in surgery. His name is Pierre Gasly." Charles was afraid of the uncertain possibilities that loomed in the air. Nevertheless, he forced himself not to dwell on it. Pierre had promised not to leave him, and in pure desperation, Charles clung to that promise. The nurse typed on her computer and looked at him. "What's your name?" she asked. "Charles Leclerc," he blurted out, and she nodded. "He just arrived in the intensive care unit. Third floor, Room 310," she explained. "Please wait outside the room. A doctor will inform you when you can go in," she added calmly. Charles nodded gratefully. "Thank you."
He looked at Max and went with him directly to the elevators. "Pierre is alive... Pierre is alive," Charles whispered repeatedly. He still didn't know how he was doing, but at least in this moment, he was alive, and that was the most important thing.
The two men sat in front of Pierre's hospital door, tension hanging in the air like a leaden cloak. Max sat on a chair, watching Charles with concern as he paced nervously. Fear and worry were written all over him; his expression reflected deep despair. Charles' hands were restless; he could hardly stand still. Time passed in agonizing slowness until finally, the doctor arrived. Charles and Max stood up, and Charles stared at the doctor with hopeful anticipation. The doctor, bearing the responsibility for Pierre's condition, looked at them, while Charles and Max held their breath in tension.
"Pierre is in critical condition," the doctor began with a serious expression. "Currently, he's not able to breathe independently. On the operating table, we lost him briefly twice due to severe internal bleeding triggered by the tremendous G-forces. In addition, he has a broken left wrist, a mild concussion, and a compression of the spine. That's why we immobilized him as much as possible." The doctor's words cut through the air like icy blades. Max felt the tension in his own body, while Charles' face reflected pure horror. The doctor continued, "It depends on whether Pierre can manage to breathe independently again over the next few hours. Currently, he is still in a life-threatening condition."
The world seemed to stand still for a moment as the oppressive reality seeped into the doctor's words. The room filled with an uncomfortable heaviness. Charles's gaze sought stability, and his eyes, mirrors of his deepest fears, met Max's eyes. Max placed his hand on Charles's shoulder as silent support in this nightmare. Pierre was in a life-threatening situation, and the unimaginable possibility seemed real. The room grew tighter, and the burden of uncertainty weighed heavily on Charles's shoulders. Desperately trying to suppress his tumultuous emotions, Charles took several deep breaths. Each breath was a struggle against another wave of panic threatening to overwhelm him. Max stood by his side, reassuringly placing a hand on Charles's shoulder as the doctor continued. "You can go to Pierre, but please be careful. He is still very unstable," the doctor warned, his words echoing in the silence of the hospital corridor.
The two men entered the room, and the atmosphere was saturated with tension and concern. Pierre laid motionless in bed, surrounded by tubes, cables, and medical devices. The monotonous beeping of the heart monitor cut through the silence, and infusions pulsed in rhythm with the battle Pierre's body was fighting. Charles's heart ached at the sight of his beloved Pierre, intubated and kept alive by machines. His palms felt moist as he clenched them, and a stifled sob escaped his throat.
Reality hit him like a blow, and the sight of his partner in this critical condition was more than he could bear. Approaching Pierre's bed slowly, as if afraid to inflict further harm, every expression on Pierre's face, revealing the struggle against death, tore another piece from Charles's heart. He felt tears streaming down his cheeks uncontrollably, and a soft, choked sound accompanied each exhale. Max remained respectfully in the background, understanding that this moment belonged to Charles and Pierre.
Charles gently stroked Pierre's cheek, his finger gliding lightly over the pale contours of his face. "Hey Calamar," he whispered softly before planting a tender kiss on Pierre's forehead. While Charles lovingly stroked Pierre's cheek, his own tears found no restraint. The love in Charles's voice was meant to penetrate Pierre's consciousness, to let him know that he was not alone. "I'm here," he whispered gently. "You can do this," he added affectionately, as if these words alone could strengthen Pierre's fighting spirit. Pierre's eyebrows slightly furrowed, a sign of the inner struggle he was undergoing. Charles longed to gaze into the wonderful blue oceans of Pierre's eyes, but they were closed,.
Max gently pushed a chair towards Charles. Charles sat down, took Pierre's hand, and stroked it tenderly. "He will make it," he whispered, his lips lightly touching his friend's hand. "He promised me." The words sounded like a vow, a compelling conviction amid the uncertainty and pain. Charles could feel the fear within him, like a cold shiver running down his spine. Pierre's closed eyes deprived him of the sight of the beautiful blue oceans that had offered him so much comfort and love. The thought of never hearing Pierre's unmistakable voice again, teasing him, filled him with paralyzing emptiness. It wasn't just the blue eyes that Charles would miss. It was the small gestures, the teasing comments, the laughter they had shared. Charles feared never hearing Pierre say those three magical words again: "I love you." Those words had the power to warm Charles's heart and make him feel secure in Pierre's love.
A deep breath filled Charles's lungs. He stood on a narrow ledge between the strength he had to show for Pierre and the danger of succumbing to another panic attack. Max was still with him, not just as support for Pierre but also as a anchor for Charles. He recognized his friend's unstable mental state and stood by him as uncertainty and fears threatened Charles's mind.
Hours passed, and Charles remained unwaveringly by Pierre's side. However, the situation remained unchanged, and uncertainty enveloped the room like a somber veil. Eventually, in the middle of the night, Charles succumbed to exhaustion and fell asleep on the chair. His reserves of strength depleted, sleep overcame him.
Meanwhile, Max had taken on the challenging task of informing Pierre's family and the Alpine team. Before that, he had rested a bit to stay alert while Charles slept. Charles had barely slept for an hour when Max heard a soft groan from Pierre. He reacted immediately, hurried to Pierre's bed, and observed as the blue eyes slowly opened, searching around. "Shh, it's okay, Pierre. You're in the hospital," Max whispered soothingly. "You're intubated, so you can't speak," he explained calmly, glancing at the deeply sleeping Charles. Pierre also turned his gaze in that direction, his expression softening. "Let him sleep for a moment, please. He can't handle another panic attack," Max murmured, more to himself than to Pierre.
But Pierre understood, and his large eyes filled with concern. Max heard Pierre's heartbeat quicken. "Pierre, stay calm, please. He's okay; I helped him. He's just worried about you," Max reassured, placing his hand on Pierre's cheek. "But he needs a moment of rest," he added with a smile. Pierre gradually calmed down and briefly closed his eyes. When he looked at Max again, Max pressed the button for the doctor. Max was unsure how best to help Pierre. Pierre raised his hand and placed it on the intubation tube. "The doctor will check that in a moment. But you weren't breathing on your own. We almost lost you," Max explained, gently removing Pierre's hand from the tube.
The doctor entered the room and approached Pierre with a professional gaze. He carefully checked Pierre's vital signs, inspected his eyes, and shone a light into them. Pierre blinked several times, and his eyes teared up slightly. Max stepped back as the doctor continued his examination. After confirming that Pierre's vital functions were stable, the doctor approached Max, who looked surprisedly at Charles. Charles slept deeply, as if from another world. "He received a sedative from my colleague earlier because he was constantly stressed. It wasn't healthy for him, and he needed a short break, so he's probably sleeping so soundly," the doctor explained. Max nodded, sighing in relief. Charles had apparently needed the rest urgently.
The doctor continued his examination and quietly spoke to Pierre, providing him with the essential details about his condition. Pierre seemed attentively to listen, even though he couldn't speak yet. The room remained in a tense silence, broken only by the faint humming of the medical devices. As the doctor loosened the attachments of the intubation tube, Pierre could feel the discomfort in his throat intensify. The driver's expression revealed that he was becoming increasingly uneasy. Max felt his own tension connecting with that of his friend. With skillful hands, the doctor slowly pulled the tube out of Pierre's throat. A pain-twisted face and a muffled groan accompanied this moment. Pierre felt the pressure and roughness in his throat that had occurred during intubation.
Max could sense Pierre's strained efforts to stay calm. The doctor immediately responded to the visible signs of discomfort, giving Pierre a moment to collect himself. The air in the room seemed to stand still as the tube was finally fully removed. Pierre gasped after the procedure and struggled to breathe. It took agonizingly long seconds until he could finally take a breath again. In those moments, time seemed to freeze. Max could feel Pierre's effort as he tried to regain control of his breathing. Suddenly, a relieving, deep breath broke the silence. Pierre literally gasped for air as his body finally supplied the life-sustaining oxygen. An almost greedy inhalation ensued, as if he cherished and celebrated every single breath. The room filled with the sound of Pierre's relieved breaths, and a touch of relief settled over everyone present.
The doctor, relieved that Pierre could breathe independently again, proceeded with caution. To ensure the young driver received sufficient oxygen, he placed an oxygen mask on him. The doctor's gentle expression reflected his concern for Pierre's condition. Max followed every movement with a worried gaze. He could almost feel the tension in the air as the doctor ensured Pierre's airway was stable. Pierre, still marked by the pain of the procedure, closed his eyes and focused on controlling his breath. The oxygen mask was placed over Pierre's face, and the gentle hiss of oxygen-rich airflow filled the room. The doctor continued monitoring the indicators on the monitors to ensure Pierre's vital functions remained stable. Max couldn't help but take a deep breath as the tension seemed to slowly dissipate. A faint smile of relief appeared on Max's face as he looked hopefully towards Pierre's recovery. Pierre took a deep breath, and the refreshing oxygen filled his lungs. It was a significant step towards recovery, even though the exhaustion on his face was visibly apparent. Max observed the scene with a cautious smile, knowing that the road to full recovery was still long. After the doctor finished his work, he helped Pierre drink something.
The doctor left, and Pierre turned his gaze wearily towards Max. "Rest, Pierre," Max encouraged him with a smile. The tension of the past hours was palpable. Pierre averted his gaze, visibly pensive. "Char...lie," he managed to say, clearing his throat as it was still irritated from the intubation. Max nodded understandingly. "Charles is fine. He had a panic attack right after your accident in the paddock. It was unclear how you were doing. No one knew anything, and he was afraid he'd lose you too," Max explained calmly. "You promised him not to leave him, and he has been clinging to that promise ever since. He was constantly stressed, always on the verge of another panic attack, which is probably why he asked the nurse for a sedative while I was asleep," he added. "But don't worry." Pierre nodded slightly, and his eyes slowly closed.
As Charles slowly opened his eyes, the warm sunlight in the room greeted him. The sound of machines around Pierre's bed penetrated his ears as he emerged from sleep. He rubbed his eyes sleepily and took a deep breath to prepare himself for the sight of Pierre.
When he finally saw his friend, he almost jumped out of the chair. Pierre was no longer intubated. Instead, he wore an oxygen mask, and most importantly, he was looking at him!
"Oh God!" Charles exclaimed, rushing to Pierre's bed. His hands found Pierre's cheeks, and tears of relief streamed down his face. "You're awake, Pierre... you're really awake!" Sobs overcame him as he gazed deeply into Pierre's blue eyes. Pierre smiled gently and placed a hand on Charles's, stroking it tenderly. "Shhh." A soothing whisper that went deeper than words could. Charles sobbed with relief and joy. Pierre gently drew him closer, running his fingers through his hair. "I'm with you. You've got me," reassured Pierre, his voice a gentle comfort. "I won't leave you." The words pierced Charles like a promise of healing. He nodded, overwhelmed with emotions, and lowered a tender kiss on Pierre's forehead. "You're with me," he whispered, feeling a heavy burden lifting from his shoulders as he lost himself in the presence of his awake boyfriend. "I've got you," Charles whispered again, looking into Pierre's eyes, and in that moment, he knew that Pierre would keep his promise.