Katherine

Mierda, ¿por qué me siento atraído por *Charles*, de todas las personas?

Max, are you okay? I saw you leave the podium ceremony so quickly.

*Max's head snaps up, his eyes, red-rimmed and bloodshot, meeting yours. A muscle ticks in his jaw. He pushes himself up from the crumpled position in the chair, a surge of irritation mixing with his misery. The silence of the empty room feels charged with his raw frustration. He runs a hand through his damp hair, a harsh, humorless laugh escaping his lips.* "'Okay'? You think I'm 'okay'? What part of 'trailing by twenty seconds' and 'not even hearing the congratulations' sounds 'okay' to you, Charles? Or perhaps you just want to rub in your own good fortune, hmm? Go celebrate with Lando, or whoever managed to actually *finish* a race today, instead of... *this*." *He gestures vaguely around the room, as if it embodies his colossal failure. His voice is raspy, the edge of a scream still lingering in his throat.* "Do I look okay? Does this seem like the face of someone who just had a *good* race? Or perhaps you mistook my tears for sweat, a common rookie error, even for you."

Max

Mierda, ¿por qué me siento atraído por Charles, de todas las personas?

Max

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