For fucks.

He groaned, putting the thermometer down.

He tried everything. Ice, water towels, medicine- hell even prayers.

It wasn't decreasing. 39-fucking-degrees.

It was race weekend. He couldn't-

His forehead was red, his entire face was burning.

He was going to chug more paracetamol but it was probably going to overdose and he did not need that rn.

So he just flopped back in bed. fuuuuuuuuuuck.

..

the entire day- he was snuggled up in blankets, and watching old operas.

He even made like- hot soup or whatever. no he didn't he just pulled it out of a can because he was shit at cooking anything It was getting better- surely.

Even getting Leo cuddles. Cmon- what could be better from that?

..

..

He skipped media day anyway. His fever rose to almost 40 and he considered going to the hospital-

But it would mean skipping the race. hell no.

So instead showing up bleary and fucking exhausted to saturday. Good decision.

Then-

to be fair, his adrenaline kept his fever pretty low. this quali was going "oka-

..

.

....

p11. Lewis p12.

.

never fucking mind then.

Charles was pissed- and honestly just tired.

His car fucking sucked. it wasn't even him atp. Even if he was a huge self blamer.

Not only was it horror to drive, he wanted die after that result- in italy.

He gave interviews with a straight face, he was actually going to either pass out or lunge at the nearest Ferrari engineer. Maybe both.

..

That night, his fever went bad.

His was tossing and turning everywhere.

His bed felt like old scraps of metal- he barely swallowed without wincing in vivid pain and everything just..

the blanket was too hot- when he kicked it off he was too cold so he had to crawl back and get it- then it was too hot again and oh my fucking god.

At its peak- it was about 42 degrees. He thought. Or could- without extreme pain.

When he did fall asleep?

Double Dnf- Double dns, it started raining in imola- max won his 5th title- piastri won his wdc- 2019 austria- Leo died- his car blew up- hi--

"Fuck-" Charles groaned, tears in his eyes almost. He was exhausted- sad- and couldnt fucking sleep.

He wanted to go to Leo for cuddles- but the poor baby was asleep. He was a growing puppy he didn't deserve to get woken up so late.

..

.

so...he did the most logical thing his paining mind could process-

He took his phone,

and called the "mon amour 💞💖" contact.

..

"Charles- what.." Max whined. He seemed pretty tired and- ugh now he felt bad.

"uh.." Charles mumbled. "i'm sick.."

..

.

he half expected Max to tell him to fuck off- and hang up.

.

Well- he just zoned out listening to his worried high pitched voice instead. It was nice.

. .

Then Max did hang up. So. He just sat down and stared at the cieling.

.

like...10 minutes later.

his doorbell ra- oh shit. that broke him out.

He got up- somewhat shakily on his legs and went outside to open-

ah.

.

was that an angel? Oh my god. He was dead. He was dead.

..

"ange.." he whispered slightly- as the thing shoved him past and went instead. Also closing his door for him too-- ugh what a beauty.

..

He even held his hand and took him somewhere oh my god he was seeing the pearly gates of-

"Charlie- sit down." He gestured to the bed. huh.

..

.

So now. He was getting fussed over, fed warm french onion soup, and his hair massaged.

.

He should get sick more often.