Chapter Text
It was the first day back at school, and the familiar gloom of the buildings loomed over the crowds of students, all laughing and shouting as they reunited after the summer break. The air was thick with chatter and the scent of freshly cut grass, mingling with the faint aroma of coffee from the teachers clutching their morning fuel like lifelines.
Charles spotted his friends through the car window, leaning against the metal fence, already immersed in conversation. A few of them caught sight of him, waving enthusiastically. He barely had time to wave back before his dad pulled the car up to the curb.
“Thanks, Dad!” Charles grabbed his bag and reached for the door handle—only to find it locked.Stupid child lock.
He turned to glare at his father, Kimi, smirking knowingly from the driver’s seat, his hands resting lazily on the wheel. “Don’t forget your brother.”
Oh. Right. That.
Charles turned to the bundle of energy practically vibrating in the seat next to him. His younger brother, Lando, was grinning from ear to ear, his uniform slightly too big on him, his curly hair an unbrushed mess. It was the first time in four years that they were wearing the same school uniform, now that Lando was finally old enough for high school.
“Fuck. It was worth a shot.”
Kimi rolled his eyes. “Language.” Then, with a smirk, he added, “Have fun, Lan. Try not to get into trouble too quickly. Now get out—both of you—I have better things to do.”
Charles sighed dramatically but climbed out of the car, Lando practically bouncing after him. Their dad barely waited for the door to close before pulling away from the pavement. The second they were alone, Charles turned to Lando with a smirk.
“Nervous?”
“I was born ready, bitch.”
Charles snorted. “You sound like an idiot.”
Lando only grinned wider, adjusting his bag as they made their way toward the school gate. Up ahead, Charles’ friends were gathered in their usual spot, leaning against the fence, a pile of backpacks strewn haphazardly at their feet. Carlos was in the middle of some exaggerated story, waving his arms around dramatically as Daniel and Pierre laughed.
“Ey, Charlie boy! Sup, Lands?”
Carlos reached out and ruffled Lando’s curls as he passed, earning a half-hearted swat and an annoyed huff.
“Seriously?” Lando muttered under his breath, attempting to flatten his hair as Charles laughed.
“Hey, you lot,” Charles greeted, slinging his bag over one shoulder. He gestured toward Lando. “In case you’ve forgotten, this idiot is my brother. First year, so he’s sticking with me until he figures out how to make friends.”
Lando rolled his eyes. “I can make friends, thanks.”
“Sure you can,” Charles teased.
The group chuckled, throwing out casual greetings before grabbing their bags and heading toward the school entrance. The air was thick with the usual first-day buzz—teachers barking orders, students groaning about their schedules, the sharp clang of lockers slamming shut.
They were halfway up the drive, deep in conversation, when Charles nearly died.
It happened in a flash—a low, aggressive hum cut through the noise, sharp and sudden, far too close. Then, before he could react, an old, battered motorbike tore past them, missing him by mere inches. The sheer force of the wind knocked him off balance, and Charles practically threw himself into Daniel’s side with a startled shout.
“Holy shit—”
The bike sped ahead, its two riders dressed in school uniform. The driver, helmetless, had wild blond hair that caught the sunlight in golden streaks. The passenger, however, was more cautious, wearing a black helmet with a reflective visor that concealed his face entirely. As they roared away, the passenger twisted to look back at them, lifting a hand in an apologetic gesture.
“Sorry!”
The word was barely audible over the rev of the engine and the chatter around them.
Charles wasn’t feeling particularly forgiving.
“Dicks,” he muttered, straightening his uniform as Daniel let out a breathless laugh.
“Well, that’s one way to make an entrance.”
“They must be new,” Pierre added. “I don’t recognize them.”
Charles scowled. “Whoever the driver is, I hate him.”
Daniel shot him an amused glance. “What are you gonna do? Beat him in a maths test?”
Charles huffed, deciding he didn’t deserve an answer. Up ahead, near the entrance, the blond biker was locking his motorbike with the other bikes and scooters. The helmeted passenger had already vanished into the crowd.
Charles narrowed his eyes.
“Oi!” Daniel called out.
The boy looked up, sharp blue eyes scanning the group with thinly veiled disinterest.
“Yes?”
“You nearly flattened my brother,” Lando snapped. His voice was firm, but there was the faintest tremor in it.
The biker leaned casually against his bike, arms crossed. “So?”
Lando stiffened. Charles stepped in before he could say anything stupid. “You could apologize.”
The blond scoffed. “You’re not dead. I’m not doing shit. Or do you need your twig of a brother to fight your battles?”
Lando turned bright red. Charles spluttered, torn between outrage and disbelief, but before he could retort, the blond shoved past them, disappearing into the throng of students.
“Asshole,” Charles muttered.
“Ignore him, Lando,” Carlos said, clapping the younger boy on the back. “Come on, let’s get you to your form.”
Charles exhaled sharply, pushing his irritation down as they headed inside.
—
Their form was the same as it always had been, everyone sitting on desks chatting as they waited for their tutor, Mr Hamilton, to arrive. Carlos and Charles sat at the same desk with Alex and George on their right, Daniel and Pierre settling on the left. They took up the back row, able to survey the class at their pleasure as Mr Hamilton finally strolled into the room and everyone began to sit down.
Charles zoned out as he gave the usual start of year announcements and completed the register, vaguely aware of Daniel and Pierre throwing paper planes at the back of everyone’s heads. Then, his peaceful daydreaming was rudely interrupted as the door slammed open and the entire room jumped.
A blond boy walked into the room, a scowl on his face. Charles recognized him instantly as the biker from earlier.
Mr. Hamilton, their tutor, narrowed his eyes. “Can I help you?"
“This is my form, I guess.” He spoke shortly, rudely, barely glancing at the teacher. There was a hint of an accent there. German, maybe.
“What’s your name?”
“Max.”
“Well, Max, that’s not how you enter my classroom. Would you like to try that again?”
“No.”
Daniel snorted. Charles raised an eyebrow.
“That wasn’t a request.”
Max exhaled sharply but turned on his heel, stepped out, then—begrudgingly—stepped back inside, this time without slamming the door. Mr. Hamilton nodded. “That’s better, thank you. Please find a seat and I’ll mark you on the register. I’m assuming there’d a reason you’re late?”
“None of your business.”
“Excuse me?”
Max just shrugged, not looking at the teacher.
“I’ll have to give you a detention if you don’t have an acceptable reason, Max.”
Something flickered across Max’s face before he clenched his jaw and sat down at an empty desk, staring out the window.
Carlos leaned over. “He’s insane.”
Charles hummed in agreement, sneaking another glance. Max had pulled out his phone, making a very poor attempt to hide it under the table. As if sensing the stare, he turned his head, locking eyes with Charles, who quickly looked away. A loud scoff carried across the room.
“Yeah, charming,” Charles muttered.
The bell rang. Max was the first out the door.
—
Charles went to a small school—one class per year. Normally, that was great. It meant he had every class with his friends.
It also meant he had every class with Max.
Walking into maths, Charles groaned when he saw the blond sitting in his seat.
“Excuse me.”
Max glanced up, entirely unfazed. “Yeah?”
“You’re in my seat.”
“That’s a shame.”
Charles gritted his teeth. “Move.”
“Nah.”
“Oh, fuck off,” Charles scoffed. “It’s assigned seating, idiot.” He pointed at the board.
“You act like I care.”
Before Charles could respond, Mr. Wolff materialized beside them. “Problem?”
“Max is in my seat.”
“Ah, you must be Max Verstappen.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, Max, Charles is right. You’re over there.” He pointed to an empty chair next to Alex, who looks less than pleased.
“I like it here.”
“Not a request Mr Verstappen.”
Max scowled but stood. “Don’t call me that.”
“Then sit.” Mr Wolff replied smoothly, crossing his arms.
Max huffed but moved, shooting Charles a glare as he passed.
“Snitch.”
Charles exhaled slowly. It was going to be a long year.
*
“He’s crazy,” Alex decided, stretching out on the grass at the front of the school. The September sun shone pleasantly on their backs as they all settled in for lunch, the air warm but laced with the first hints of autumn.
“Insane,” Daniel agreed, nodding emphatically. “It’s like he’s actively trying to get kicked out on the first day.”
Max had done precisely no work in math, had been sent out of chemistry, and had managed to argue with both teachers in a manner that teetered between insolence and sheer indifference. The only lesson he had shown even a hint of cooperation in was English, where he had been sullen and curt but not outright disruptive. Charles was at least grateful for that small mercy, given that their English teacher happened to be his own father, Sebastian.
The group pulled out their lunches, slipping into an easy rhythm of eating and chatting, the hum of students around them filling the air. Occasionally, Daniel would break the calm with a joke about a terrified first-year or an irritated teacher, drawing chuckles from the others.
Charles let his gaze wander across the field, watching with amusement as a tiny boy—seriously, he couldn’t be more than six—struggled under the weight of a bag nearly twice his size. The kid bolted across the grass to his friends, and the sight unexpectedly reminded Charles of something—or rather, someone. He hadn’t seen Lando yet. Scanning the sea of students, he searched for the familiar mop of curls.
Instead, his eyes landed on Max.
The boy was sauntering down the school drive with an air of complete indifference, bag slung haphazardly over one shoulder, hands tucked into his pockets like he hadn’t a single care in the world.
“Hey! Where do you think you’re going?” Charles called out, loud enough to startle Pierre beside him. Pierre turned his head, catching sight of Max and raising an eyebrow in curiosity.
Max barely glanced back, his expression unimpressed. “Out,” came his clipped reply.
“You know we can’t leave at break, right?” Pierre chimed in, amusement dancing in his eyes.
Max stopped, standing still for a few seconds as if considering his options. Then, with an exaggerated sigh, he spun on his heel and strolled back toward the school, not bothering to acknowledge either of them as he disappeared into the building. Pierre let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “I’m so glad we just saved him from another detention.” He flopped back onto the grass, letting the sunlight warm his face as Daniel snorted beside him.
Charles rolled his eyes but grinned, his attention momentarily shifting back to the field. That’s when he spotted Lando, finally. He was walking across the grass with another boy—a brunette, unfamiliar. Charles tilted his head, watching as his brother approached.
“You alright, Lan?” he asked as Lando reached them.
His younger brother beamed, nodding enthusiastically. “Yeah, it’s been chill. I made a friend! Look, say hi, Osc!” He gestured to the brunette beside him, who gave a small, awkward wave.
Charles smiled, relieved. “Glad to hear it,” he said before smirking. “Just making sure you’re alright. Now, get lost—you’re not cool enough to be seen with me.”
Lando rolled his eyes dramatically but didn’t seem bothered, turning back toward his new friend. “Come on, Osc. Let’s go hang out somewhere that isn’t full of losers,” he teased, sticking his tongue out at Charles before bounding off.
Charles just laughed, tuning back into his friend’s conversation.
*
Charles sat near the front of the classroom, his notebook open and pen poised as their teacher droned on about 19th-century revolutions. He took careful notes, underlining key dates as he always did. Behind him, the occasional rustle of paper or whispered conversation barely registered—until a particularly loud scoff broke through his concentration.
He didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.
“Max, since you seem to have something to add, would you care to enlighten us on the role of the Congress of Vienna?” the teacher asked, her patience already wearing thin.
Max slouched in his chair, arms crossed. “Yeah, sure. Bunch of old guys making rules no one listened to.”
The class chuckled, but Charles just rolled his eyes. He couldn’t help himself. “That’s an impressively ignorant take,” he muttered just loud enough for those around him to hear. A few of his classmates snickered, one of them—Pierre—even nudging him with a grin.
Max’s jaw twitched, but he just shrugged. “Sorry, forgot I was in the presence of a genius.”
Charles ignored him and focused back on his notes, determined not to let Max’s stupidity ruin his grade.
*
The school day finally came to an end, and Charles found himself waiting outside by the curb, bag resting at his feet. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows over the pavement, the air cooler now but still carrying the lingering warmth of the day. Students streamed past, some hurrying to buses, others loitering around, chatting about their first day back.
Lando appeared a few minutes later, dragging the brunette from lunch behind him as he made his way over to Charles. Lando, as usual, was full of energy, bouncing on his heels, while his friend remained quieter, though he seemed comfortable enough beside him.
“Dad’s not here yet?” Lando asked, scanning the street.
“Not yet,” Charles replied, stretching his arms behind his head. “Knowing him, he probably took a nap and forgot what time it was.”
Lando snorted. “Sounds about right.”
Charles nodded to the other boy. “Hi I’m Charles, Lando’s brother.”
“I’m Oscar.” The other boy replied with a polite smile before turning to Lando. “Your dad’s cool with me coming with you?” He had a slight Australian lilt, Charles noted distantly, he should introduce the boy to Daniel.
“Yeah,” Lando said easily. “Dad won’t mind. He’s cool like that.”
Charles smirked. “He’s cool until he gets behind the wheel, then he’s terrifying.”
Oscar looked intrigued. “Like, road rage terrifying?”
Lando laughed. “No, just… insanely good at driving. You’ll see.”
They lapsed into a comfortable silence, watching cars pull in and out of the pickup zone. Charles glanced at Oscar. “So, Oscar, are you settling in well?”
Oscar nodded. “Yeah, everyone’s nice, Lando’s pretty chill,” He smiled to the curly-haired boy, “Even though he’s spent most of today trying to avoid getting in trouble.” And then, with a side eye, “Which he is not good at.”
“Hey!” Lando protested, nudging him. “I’m an angel.”
“A chaotic angel, maybe,” Charles muttered.
Before Lando could retaliate, the low rumble of an engine caught their attention. A sleek black car rolled up to the curb, coming to a smooth stop. The tinted window lowered just enough to reveal their father, Kimi, looking as composed as ever behind the wheel.
“Get in,” he said simply.
Lando grinned, yanking the door open. “Come on, Osc. Time to experience the fastest ride home you’ve ever had.”
Oscar hesitated for a second, then climbed in after him, looking both excited and slightly nervous. Charles chuckled as he grabbed his bag and followed, pulling the door shut behind him.