Hey! I'm Bordeaux-but you can call me that or Dani!
I write F1 ff's, and for now, that is all. I'm not very big into other fandoms rn. I'm a huge Ferrari girl-just for Carlos and Charles, ofc. I also love the rest of the grid, but these two are just UGHHH😩 My writing strong suit is angst-I'm sorry in advance LMAO there will be a lot on here
Request something! I'd be absolutely happy to make it :) - Here is my prompt list and request status
I'll write smut as long as it's nothing insane! Minors, please be aware!!
You fell in love with this sport all because of him. It would be selfish not to thank that boy for his help in getting you here today, even if you both ended on rocky terms. However, after finding yourself in the same paddock as your childhood bestfriend, your mentor, your first true love, and the boy who left you for the bigger picture, you realize that he wants nothing to do with you. So, as fate has it, perhaps you'll end up in the arms of someone else. Or maybe, just maybe, that string that has been tied to the two of you since birth will pull you back into eachothers lives.
Warnings : none
Pairings : Lando Norris x reader, Charles Leclerc x reader
Word Count : 1923
Poetry style | Story style
A/n: here, my lovelies, is chapter one. Not proofread srry lolsies.
Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2
one;
y/n.
There was something about it, something in the early morning rays reflecting off the cherry-red paint that just wiped away all exhaustion previously held in your bones. You were wide awake as you stared at the cars being rolled off the truck and into the garage. It was only five am but the sun had already crept over the horizon well enough to illuminate the sight in front of you. Golds and reds, blacks and yellows all mixed into a work of art nobody else could recreate. This is what you were here for. This is what you were living for.
“Gorgeous, innit’?”
You turned to your left, face to face with two others donning the same uniform as you. The woman who had spoken seemed a bit older than you, but now way had she yet reached her thirties. A man was accompanying her, although his eyes rested not on you, but on the tyres now being rolled out of the truck. He seemed close to her age, his deep-tanned skin a high contrast to hers.
You smiled at her before looking down at your lanyard. It was still so hard to process being here, on a Thursday morning in Bahrain, waiting for the weekend that was about to ensue. You were one of them now. You were an insider, a person that got to see everything on a deeper level. People dreamed of getting here, people worked their whole lives in hopes of getting here and yet here you were, 23 years old and face-to-face with Carlos Sainz’s car. It looked so much better in-person.
“It really is.” You sighed, looking back up. The truck was empty now, they were beginning to close the back door. “I still can't believe I’m here.”
The blonde lady leaned forward, trying to catch a glimpse of your badge. “Y/n y/ln? You're new, huh?”
You turned to meet her eyes, a large smile on your face. “Yes, I just graduated University.”
“What an amazing first job to have then.” She smiled back. The man beside her now looked at you as he adjusted the ballcap on his head. “I'm Bridgette, but everyone in the garage just calls me Bridge.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” You extended out a hand which she gratefully accepted.
“This is Lorenzo.” Bridgette nodded to the man who offered a toothless smile and his hand. “Enough standing around, we’ve got work to do. Walk with us.”
So you did. The garage wasn’t too far away, just around the corner, but Bridgette loved to talk; that you quickly found out. “Where are you from?” Was her first question.
“Bristol.”
“I hear it’s nice. They’ve got that beautiful river running through it, no?” She asked, looking straight ahead. You just nodded, unsure if she saw your response, but when she kept going you assumed she had. “I’m from Perth. Nothin’ quite like Australia, I must say.”
“Isn’t Lando from Bristol?” Lorenzo added. His accent was thick as he spoke.
You nodded again, this time opting to expand on the question. “He is, yeah. We actually grew up together.”
Bridgette turned her head to look at you. “No way! Why didn’t your mate get you a job over at Mclaren?”
A blush coated your cheeks. You didn’t know where it came from, maybe embarrassment, maybe fear, hell, maybe even sadness. Lando wouldn’t have put in a good word for you, not today. Perhaps seven years ago when the two of you were teenagers and on a completely different page, but not now.
“We don't talk like we used to. He was gone a lot but he moved away for good when he was seventeen. He never really looked back, either.” You sighed. An odd sense of pity hung over the three of you. In an attempt to lighten the mood you clapped your hands together and smiled at the two engineers next to you. “But he got me into cars and engineering! So, I owe him a thanks for that.”
Bridgette nodded and pressed her lips into a thin line. “There ya’ go.”
The next few moments were rushed. The three of you entered the garage where people worked on putting everything into place. You were introduced to management and owners, mechanics and bosses. Tyres were being placed on racks, tarps were being placed over backup cars, tool boxes were being passed around. It was thrilling, even if you were just standing on the sidelines watching as it all happened. Soon, however, someone called your name. You were sure it was Bridgette or Lorenzo, but it was someone else. Alessandro, Charles' chief mechanic, was heading straight for you, clipboard in hand.
“Have you been assigned a team yet?”
“No, sir.”
He smiled. “Call me Alessandro. No need for formalities. But anyways,” He looked down at the clipboard then back up at you. “Our front jack guy broke his wrist and I need someone to replace him. Care to run some drills?”
You couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your lips. “I would be honored.”
“Awesome.” He nodded over his shoulder. “Let's go get you a suit and helmet, then.”
x
“I’d be surprised if you didn’t get the spot.” Bridgette sipped her coffee. “You absolutely crushed it.”
You blushed, rolling your finger around the rim of your cup. The Ferrari motorhome was gorgeous with its meeting rooms and rooftop balcony, with its relaxation spots and cafe. It really put into perspective where you were and who you were working for.
“Thank you,” You said quietly.
The day had gone by rather quickly. The sun was already setting over the desert and exhaustion clung to your body just as tightly as the uniform you wore. You’d spent hours running drills, practicing the most simple yet vital job-jacking the car up. You did it over and over again, improving with every run. After that you were tasked with doing inventory. Sure, it was a small task, one that didn’t require you to get hands on with the car, but it was still important. You wandered the garage counting tyres, drills, wrenches, going through tool bags and drawers. It helped you get situated in the space, to learn the layout and whereabouts of everything. Once you had finished that, you were offered to help wash Charles’ back up car. You gladly obliged, happy to be finally touching the car at least. You washed the tyres, the halo, the rear wing and a bit of the body before standing back to revel in the beauty of the car. It seemed to shine, even in the dim garage lighting. You felt so fulfilled, so privileged, so at home.
“Alessandro likes to give everyone a shot, he doesn’t discriminate.” Bridgette continued. “Today might have been your lucky break.”
“I’d be happy even being a back-up jack, honestly. Just wearing the fire suit and helmet makes me feel all,” you paused looking for the right word to describe it. “Giddy.”
“Well,” Lorenzo began, setting his phone face down on the table. “He needs to pick tonight so we can have that person participate in tomorrow's practice. You should know if you got it first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Guess I’ll be tossing and turning all night, then.” You joked.
A small laugh cluttered the table. It was getting late, the track becoming more and more empty with each passing moment. The motorhome was silent, save for the three of you lingering around. “We should go grab the last shuttle to the hotel,” Bridgette stood, taking one last swig from her cup before tossing it into a bin. “Are the two of you coming?”
Lorenzo stood up, as did you. “I left my bag in the lockers. I can wait for the next one if you both would like to go.”
“It’s ok,” he said. “We can wait for you at the front gate.”
“Alright, then. I’ll be quick.”
You jogged through the paddock, grateful that the heat had subsided. Lights poured out of each garage, illuminating pit lane in a way the sun hadn't. The sun, harsh and bright, brought a form of intimidation onto the pavement. The lights however, soft and orange, seemed to bring peace. It was a gentle reminder that at the end of the day, everything would be alright.
You dodged into the Ferrari garage, running to the back lockers to retrieve your backpack. Although your head was almost completely submerged in the metal box, you could hear faint-chatter? You leaned back, wondering if Bridgette and Lorenzo had come to find you. No, it didn’t sound like them. The voice sounded much more familiar. It was like listening to one of your favorite songs after a long while.
Lando paused at the entrance of the garage. His phone was pressed into his ear. He stared at you, eyes squinted and eyebrows furrowed. Did he know it was you? Could he see you? Did he even remember what you looked like?
You swung your bag over your shoulders and closed the locker. As you approached, Lando lifted his brows, erasing the confused look on his face. He surely could see you now.
“Hey, I gotta call you back.” He sighed. “Yeah, everything is good. See you tomorrow.”
A few feet separated you and him. You debated on starting conversation, on asking how he’s been. But you decide just to nod and walk past him. That is your plan until he stops you.
“Y/n?”
You pressed your lips together in a flat smile. “Hey, Lando.”
He looked you up and down. You were uncertain if he found your Ferrari uniform insulting or fitting. What if you were wearing papaya? What if you were sporting orange instead of red? Would he be looking at you in the same way?
“So you really did make it, huh?” Lando crossed his arms over his chest, smirking as you avoided eye contact.
“I suppose so.”
“Have they assigned you a driver?”
You looked up for the first time since your conversation began. A bit of pride swelled in your chest as you said, matter-of-factly, “Yeah, Charles Leclerc.”
He blinked hard, shocked that you landed not only a job with the most infamous F1 team, but on their star drivers car. Maybe you were better than you let on. Maybe it was more luck. But deep down Lando knew how good you were. He was able to experience it first hand as a kid.
“Wow. Most people remain without a designated driver for their first year. They kinda’ just float around doing all the dirty work. At least, that's how it is at Mclaren.”
“Right.” You gripped your backpack straps like a kid. “Good thing I'm not over there, then.”
“Yeah.”
The two of you fell quiet, only the sound of nearby passing cars and people walking by filled the air. To any bypasser this surely looked sketchy. Lando Norris, Mclarens golden boy, and a new engineer for an opposing team, just staring at one another. How odd.
You broke the silence first saying, “Well I’ve gotta’ go. I have some friends waiting for me to catch the shuttle.”
Lando just nodded, staring at the ground as you walked by. As you passed Carlos’ garage, he called out, “I’ll see you tomorrow, y/n.”
You could barely hear it with the way he spoke so quietly. But you stopped, turning your head and offering a real, genuine smile. “Yeah,” You breathed out.
You fell in love with this sport all because of him. It would be selfish not to thank that boy for his help in getting you here today, even if you both ended on rocky terms. However, after finding yourself in the same paddock as your childhood best friend, your mentor, your first true love, and the boy who left you for the bigger picture, you realize that he wants nothing to do with you. So, as fate has it, perhaps you'll end up in the arms of someone else. Or maybe, just maybe, that string that has been tied to the two of you together since birth will pull you back into eachothers lives.
Warnings: none
Pairings: Lando Norris x Reader, Charles Leclerc x Reader
Word Count: 769
Poetry style | Story style
A/n: I have returned with yet another series >:) this has been rolling around in my mind and yes its a super simple, done before, run down prompt but I promise to make it worth wild! I feel as though my writing has improved since my last series(which i'm gonna go rewrite) so please enjoy! Ill update as quickly as possible. This is just the prologue so look out for chapter 1 soon, and let me know if you all would be interested in me posting this on Wattpad for easier reading! Much love!
Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2
prologue;
y/n.
There was simply no way, not in this world with all of its coincidences and twists of fate, that things did not happen for a reason. From the minute you’re born until the day you die, there is a reason for everything. An invisible string runs through each and every one of your actions, no matter how little or grand they may be. You were sure of it. There were so many instances you could think of. When you failed that math test and got put back into a different class-the one where you met your first boyfriend who you no longer speak of. When you visited the beach one Summer all the way across the ocean in the United States, and met a girl from your hometown who ended up becoming your life long friend you attended university with. And perhaps the most vital one, when you grew up next door to a boy, only a year older than you, who possessed a love for cars and all things involving them. He would sculpt your life into one of his own, beginning from only the age of three. The two of you would form a shared love, a shared passion, for one sport. However, you found more interest in the mechanical side of things while he preferred to take the wheel. Still, you often wonder how your life would have played out, what you would have done, where you would have gone, who you would have become without him. What would have happened to you if he didn’t live next door? You could never even picture it. Especially now, fresh from university with a degree in automotive engineering hanging on your wall. But the craziest connection of them all? Getting an offer to work in the same sport as your neighbor-no, your childhood best friend. You just couldn’t believe it.
“Y/n you’re joking.” Sophia said on the afternoon the offer popped up in your inbox. She sat on the beanbag chair you used to have in your dorm. You were laying down in bed, lazily scrolling through Twitter before deciding to check your inbox. Now, you were sitting up straight, hand cupping your mouth as you read the email. “Let me see!”
You spun the laptop around, watching her eyes dart across the screen. “It’s not real, there is no way.”
But it was. The email would turn into a phone call, the phone call would turn into a headquarters visit, the visit would turn into a contract. Soon, only a few months after your January graduation, you would be in the Formula 1 paddock, clad in red, tending to the Ferrari livery.
You called Lando only a few weeks before the season started. The two of you hadn’t spoken in a while.
“Hello?”
“Lando, hey.” You scratched the back of your neck. How would he take it? Would he even care at all? Why were you calling with how things ended between the two of you?
There was a second of silence, although it felt like minutes. “Y/n, it’s been a minute. I heard you graduated. Congrats.”
“Oh? Who told you?”
“Mom. You know she's still best friends with yours.”
“Right,” You sighed. He didn’t like your Instagram post that compiled all your grad-photos. Of course he’d only heard it involuntarily. “How have you been?”
“Good.” He responded. “Just preparing for the season, you know?”
“That's actually what I was calling about,” Your heart was pounding. You were so excited to tell him, to let him know that not only did he make it into his dream field, but so did you. “I got a job.”
“Cool. Where at?”
“Ferrari.”
The silence that hung over the line only a little while ago returned. “Like at a shop somewhere in the UK?”
Not exactly the celebration you were hoping for. “No, uh, in F1. I’ll be in the paddock working on either Leclerc’s or Sainz’s car.”
“Oh.” He sniffled. “How’d you manage a job like that straight out of uni?”
“I applied. Didn’t think I would get it but here we are.”
“Well I guess I’ll see you around then.”
And that was it, your big call, your big announcement, all concluded with a ‘see you around’ like it was a conversation to be had in a school yard. You were hurt, your childhood best friend chalking your achievements up to something not worth being impressed about, but you didn’t have time to think about it. You had a job to do and damnit, you were sure you’d be doing it the best.
It's been years since you've indulged in a vacation. What better time is there than summer? Your family, the beach house in Italy-it seems perfect. But, for things to be just like good old times, your family needs to invite his. So of course you are having mixed feelings as the boy who broke your heart re-enters your life like nothing happened.
Warnings: None
Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader
Word count: 2.3k
Poetry style | Story style
A/n: This is it! It's once again rushed because after tonight I wont have my laptop until late October and I really wanted to get this out. So forgive any errors please. I'll rewrite one day! Also, later on I'll write a sequel if you guys want me to because I love this story and the characters. Anyways, enjoy and to those of you who came along for the whole ride, I appreciate you more than you know<3 Cheers and I'll see ya in October!
Part One|Part Two|Part Three|Part Four|Part Five
Once your last suitcase was in the trunk, you were ready to go.
One flight took off the following morning at 6. You were willing to sit in that small, grocery store sized airport for a few hours. Anything not to see or think about him. Right now, every room in the house was drowning in memories. You were suffocating.
“Y/n, come inside please.” Your mother begged. It was pouring down rain, and you were sitting on the patio just watching the droplets ricochet off the pool water. “You’ll catch a cold.”
“I don’t mind.” You said.
She sighed, a signal of her defeat. When you left from the charity dinner, taking your mothers rental car with you, nobody but Mia followed. About an hour later, they all pulled into the driveway. Nobody said a word as they walked through the front door to see a pile of suitcases lined up. Nobody dared to even cough as they watched you throw them all in the trunk in the pouring rain. You were done. You’d had enough. Elba was just as dead to you as he was.
Mia begged you to stay the rest of the week, saying that it was Max who should leave, but you couldn’t explain to her how every square inch of the beach house reminded you of his touch. The kitchen brought back memories of his small, butterfly kisses when you both cooked dinner or when his hand would rest on your thigh at the kitchen bar. The living room just reminded you of all the times you fell asleep in his arms during a movie and how he would carry you to your room. Your bedroom was the worst spot of them all. Your sheets still smelled like him, the mirror still displayed his reflection, his clothes were still on your floor.
“I need to go home.” Was all you could say to Mia as she begged you not to.
“Y/n?” The patio door slid open softly, but you didn’t bother looking. “Can we talk?”
“I don’t really feel like speaking to you.”
Luca didn’t sit next to you, he didn’t walk up to you or approach you. Instead, he stayed behind you, speaking to your back. Never before had you or either of your siblings had a situation like this. The three of you had always been close but this. Luca had really done it this time. You also had a little resentment for Mia, too. She’d known for a while and still let you fall head over heels for Max. Was it her fault? No, but she could have said something. She should have said something.
“I’m sorry, y/n.”
“Wow,” You scoffed. “Suddenly everything is all better! Me and Max are getting married tomorrow, want to be the ring bearer?”
“Y/n-”
“What was going through your mind, Luca? Hmm? Can I just ask you that?” You shook your head. It was hard to understand this whole situation.
“I didn’t think he’d take this seriously. I thought he’d say no and laugh it off.”
“But playing with my feelings in the first place was alright? Because you thought he’d say no it was alright?”
Luca fell silent. Obviously it wasn’t right, that much was known. But he didn’t know how to express how sorry he was, or how he didn’t think it would go this far. No matter what he said, you would come back and rebuttal his comment with something more emotional, something more meaningful. Luca wasn’t one with words, he never was and never would be. In this moment, he wished he was.
“Here.” He dropped five or six envelopes on the table next to you. “Maybe you wont forgive me, but this wasn’t his idea.”
Before you could say anything, he was inside, closing the glass door behind him. You looked at the off-white envelopes. They had your family's address on them, but your name was clearly written on there. The return address? The Verstappen house. Not Sophie and Victoria’s house, but the childhood house that Max and his father lived in.
Your heart sank.
After finding the oldest one, dating back to only a few months after he broke up with you, you slid it open and pulled out the paper. A photo fell out, alongside a dried up, flattened rose petal.
Y/n.
I miss you. It might sound selfish to say, but I really do.
I don’t think I ever realized how important love could be in life. I saw it as more of a form of entertainment rather than a necessity. I knew my feelings for you were real, I knew they were physical and emotional and everything in between, but I didn’t know how hard they’d be to get rid of. Leaving you hurt, it hurt so bad that I felt like I couldn’t breathe on my way home. But, I thought they’d go away once I was back with dad. I thought they’d be like a stomach ache or migraine. Like I said, though, they are much harder to get rid of than that. Seeing all the love that other drivers have at the track, seeing their girlfriends and moms and families hurts me. All I have is dad and, well, you know what that's like. I’ve realized that I need someone like you, someone I can laugh with, someone I can talk to, someone who will tell me it's ok and that I won't fail in life after a bad race. I need someone on my side, not someone who is only team Max when I win.
I think of you every time I race. I dedicate every win to you-and mom of course. In the photo I sent, I won my first F3 Grand Prix. It’s a huge step in the right direction and at this pace, I’m set to be the youngest F1 competitor if I can make the Toro Rosso team in a few weeks. I hope you’re there to see it.
I get it if you don't want to talk to me. I know I broke your heart and ruined the rest of your summer but please, if any drop of your feelings were real please write me back. I could use the support.
Love, Max.
Sure enough in the photo a young, 16 year old Max was hoisting a trophy in the air as champagne was sprayed on him. You picked up the rose petal and it crunched in your grasp. Where had these gone? Why didn’t you get any of them? You didn’t move out at sixteen, why didn’t you get them?
The other ones followed the same idea as the first; I miss you, I messed up, I’m making promising moves in my career, please answer my calls or reach out, I love you, Love, Max. And sure enough, every single one made you cry. Near the end of the last one, however, Max wrote;
Take this as my final goodbye. I hope you’re getting these but I’m not getting any response so maybe you’re not. I deserve this, I know. But, I was really hoping things would be different. I’m sorry for the pain I caused you, y/n. If I could take it back, I would.
Dad told me to stop wasting time writing silly letters that get no response, so I guess this is my last one. Hopefully we can reconnect someday. I hope you're watching me on TV. I hope that a piece of you still loves me, as selfish as it sounds. There will always be a place for you in my heart, always.
Goodbye, y/n. I’ve always loved you, and I always will.
Max.
Your hand came up to cup your mouth. These letters were similar to the ones up in your room. Max loved to write, and on your 15th and 16th birthday, he wrote you two beautiful letters that you said you’d cherish forever. You left them in Elba when he broke your heart.
Without even thinking, you stood up, turning on your heel so quickly you were afraid you’d fall. With the letters cradled in your arms, you ran inside. The house felt empty. Nobody was around except for-
“Mia-” You called out in between tears. “Where is-where are-Max, where is Max?”
“He left-”
“What?”
She nodded. “What’s wrong?”
“I need to talk to him. Where did he go?”
“There’s a ferry leaving in like, thirty minutes. He’s going to get on that.”
You shook your head, tossing the letters on the counter before running to the front door. You grabbed a pair of keys and darted through the rain as your sister called out your name. Max at least deserved a chance to explain himself, right? Maybe he was too prideful, too nervous, too scared to speak to you himself. That was alright. You’d just go to him.
The drive was long, you were afraid you’d miss the ferry. It left at five am, you assumed, and it was 4:48 when you pulled into the dock. He was probably already on the boat, no? He was probably already in his seat waiting for the departure to begin. That wouldn’t stop you.
Maybe fate was on your side, maybe it was meant to be. Whatever it was, Max was standing in line to load onto the boat, suitcase in hand. “Max!” You shouted. He was still in his suit, you were still in your dress. Neither of you looked as elegant as before, but it would be wrong to say you thought he looked bad.
He turned to look at you, his eyes wide when he saw who was calling your name. “Y/n?” Max turned out of line and walked near you.
In seconds your arms were around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug that took him a few beats to reciprocate. You then pulled away, looking him in the eyes as tears flooded yours. He was confused, taken aback, even. “We need to talk.”
“But I’m leaving-”
“Please stay.”
-
“I’m mad at you, don’t get me wrong.” You said, looking off into the distance. There was a small cafe near the dock that was open for breakfast. So, the two of you sat outside and drank tea whilst looking like complete lunatics.
“So why’d you come get me?” He asked. “You could have completely let me go.”
“What good would that do? I would just hate you forever and it would eat me alive. Just like it did last time.”
Max shrugged. “I don't think I deserve a second chance.”
“Luca gave me the letters you wrote me as a kid.”
Max turned pale. “What?”
“Yeah,” You nodded. “I never got them as a girl or trust me, I would have written you back-or texted you at least.”
“I know you never got them.”
Did you hear him correctly? He knew? In the last letter he assumed you didn’t get them. “How’d you know?”
Max looked at the sunrise that was touching the horizon. The sky looked beautiful. There were no clouds, only bright shades of reds and yellows, blues and purples. The water from the ocean reflected the scenery perfectly. He didn’t know how to answer your question. It would be embarrassing if he did. He never planned on you seeing those even though he sent them.
“I was writing your address wrong. I was one number off or something, so they all got sent back at once. I sent them back after fixing it, but I called Luca and told him not to let you get them.” He said in one breath, cheeks igniting with a blush. “I was too embarrassed.”
That's why you didn’t get them.
You were torn. If he really cared he wouldn’t have taken the bet, right? If he really cared, he would have let those letters get to you. What if this was just another elaborate part of his plan? You wanted to believe it, you wanted to see the truth in Max’s story, but you couldn’t trust him. You couldn’t read him as well as you once could. A piece of you was saying, shut up and take it, he's your dream man, and another piece of you was saying, do better.
“Did you ever really care about me?” You asked.
Max looked at you with wide eyes. “What?”
“This summer,” You reiterated. “Did you ever really care about me? Be honest with me.”
Without missing a beat he said, “I didn’t just care about you, I loved you. I don’t like to admit my feelings-mainly because I grew up in a house where feelings didn’t exist-but I couldn’t hide the love I have for you. I’ve never been able to hide it. Ask dad, mom or Vic.”
You sighed. “The scary part is, Max, even after all this, even after I found out one of the worst things, even after I felt used and objectified, I still want you. Every part of my body is screaming no, telling me to run and leave without turning back but one small, small sliver of me is begging to stay.”
Max leaned across the table, palm coming to cup your chin. He smiled softly, his breath dancing across your cheek. It felt refreshing. It felt like summer. Perhaps things would be ok. Perhaps things would always be ok.
“So stay.” He said. “I promise to love you, y/n. I will love only you.”
Your lips connected to his. It was a soft kiss, one that reminded you of your first. Did you know what was going to happen once he went back to racing and you went back to work? No. Did you know if he was your boyfriend now? No. Did you know if things were going to work out? No. But honestly, nothing in life is for certain. But damn, sitting in front of an italian coffee shop, watching the sun rise over the ocean with Max’s lips on yours felt nice.
You were excited for a lifetime of moments like these. All of them with your childhood boyfriend by your side.
And yeah, you did feel like you could call him that now. You could call Max whatever the hell you wanted to.
It's been years since you've indulged in a vacation. What better time is there than summer? Your family, the beach house in Italy-it seems perfect. But, for things to be just like good old times, your family needs to invite his. So of course you are having mixed feelings as the boy who broke your heart re-enters your life like nothing happened.
Warnings: Suggestive content in the beginning, implied nudity, angst
Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader
Word count: 2.3k
Poetry style | Story style
A/n: One more part left! I decided to do 5 chapters instead of only 4, so the next part is the last part. This was kinda rushed, sorry if you can tell, but I'm leaving soon and I really wanted to finish this up for you guys so you weren't waiting for two months lmao. I'll come back one day and revise it, but ur stuck with this for now. Enjoy! Part 5 will be up tomorrow <;3
Part One|Part Two|Part Three|Part Four|Part Five
“Goodnight!” You waved as your mom and dad sombered down the hall. Finally.
You ran into your room, reaching for your phone on your desk. Max’s contact was the first one to pop up. Come up. You sent.
Victoria and I are still in the living room chatting. I’m trying to get up there. He sent back immediately.
I’ll be waiting, just come in. Don’t knock. With that, you set your phone down and cracked open your window. A thick, cold gust of wind blew in. It would rain soon, a perfect background noise for what was about to happen. You smirked thinking about it. You smirked thinking about how worked up you made Max on the yacht, just to say in the end, “You have to wait until we get home to do anything more than kiss.”
This would be fun.
The only light in the room was coming from a lamp on your desk. It created a warm, soft, dreamy atmosphere. Your sheets seemed softer than normal, your pillow seemed thicker than normal, the wood on your feet seemed colder than normal. Maybe it was the exhaustion finally setting in from the day on the boat, but your senses were heightened. You wondered what it would feel like to kiss Max again. Would it be different? Would it feel better?
Only a few more minutes would pass before your door opened so quietly that you almost didn’t notice. Max slid in through the crack, a smile on his lips. “Hello.” He said.
“Glad to see you could make it.”
“I wouldn’t pass this up for the world.” He said, sitting next to you on your bed. His arms wrapped around you, pulling your body into a tight embrace. You both fell backwards, giggling as your bodies hit the bed. At once, you both closed your eyes just basking in each other's body heat and feeling your breath on one another's skin.
Your legs dangled off the bed, and when you realized, you pulled them up and curled into Max. He just hummed softly, placing a kiss on the top of your head. It would be so easy to just fall asleep. To just postpone this until later. What if you both just…
“Hey.” He whispered.
You blinked slowly, taking in the now different view. The two of you were now laying normally on your bed, your body being held by Max still. It was raining pretty hard outside. You could hear it clearly through your open window. The lamp was off now and the alarm clock on your desk read 4:55 AM. You remembered it being only midnight.
“Hi.” You whispered back. Max drew stars on your cheek, smiling as you looked up at him with gleaming eyes. You were always so amazed by him, it didn’t take a scientist to figure that out. He could honestly say that he felt the same about you.
“We fell asleep.”
“Yeah,” You tucked your head into his chest. His shirt smelled of sunscreen and salt. “I guess we did.”
“Do you feel alright?”
You just nodded, not pulling your face away from his body. He, however, reached his hand under your chin, pulling your face just a few inches below his. Even in the dark you could see the outline of his features. You could see his lips, his beautiful eyes, his nose, his messy hair. As you studied his face, he studied yours. It was like you both got lost in one another. These moments had been more frequent lately. You enjoyed every second of them.
“If you want something, Max,” You smirked, inching closer. “Just ask.”
You watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. “Can I kiss you?”
“Anytime.”
It happened in a flash, his lips connected to yours in a rushed haze. His hand came to the small of your back pulling your pelvis into his. His other hand gripped the back of your head with such force that a small moan slipped into the kiss. Max loved it. He wanted you to do it again and again. You remained like this for only a few seconds before he flipped you onto your back, pulling away as he did so.
“God,” He whispered. “You look so good. How’d I get so lucky?”
You just looked away, hiding underneath your arm. Max pulled it away, insisting that he wanted to admire your blissed out look. The rain picked up outside. You felt so happy that you could cry. This was a moment you’d been wanting with Max since you were a teenager. Honestly, this made you have a hopeful outlook for the future. He wouldn’t have sex with you then just leave. Surely this was the beginning of something new, something you’d wanted for years.
“Can I take your shirt off?”
You nodded, lifting your arms straight up so he could slide it off. “Now yours,” You instructed.
“Yes ma’am.”
Your body was humming in pure ecstasy as his bare skin was flush against yours. He stared at you for a few seconds, looking at your face, then your body, then your lips. He was practically drooling as he consumed the image before him. Not only was this a dream come true for you, but it was for him, too. He’d always had eyes for you, he’d always wanted to feel and kiss you. As much as he was your first crush, you were his. His first kiss was also you, even though he lied at the time and said he’d been with plenty of girls. He was determined to do things right this time, to not be idiotic or selfish, to not be doubtful or despondent.
Max kissed your neck before moving down to place small kisses on your chest. They were quick, his lips moving to another spot only seconds after attaching to the first. “Max,” You moaned, hand entwined in his hair. “Give me more.”
He looked up, a smile on his face. “More?”
You nodded. “More.”
-
“We’re going to be late!” Your mom yelled from down the hall.
Right, this was not what you were supposed to be doing. “Max, we gotta go.” You gasped, pulling away from him.
Max frowned, adjusting his tie as you walked to your desk to reapply your jewelry. “I was having fun.”
The ‘fun’ he was talking about was having you pushed into the wall of your bedroom as the two of you feverishly made out. This had become rather common in the past few days. Ever since the night on the yacht, the dynamic between the two of you had changed from best friends with a mutual crush to best friends with benefits. Max used these benefits every chance he got. Even if it was ten minutes before a big formal charity ball.
You stepped in front of the mirror to admire your outfit. A long, skin tight, wine-red dress clung to your body. There was a slit up the left leg. Your hair was up, your makeup was done perfectly, you were flawless. Max stepped into the mirror, too, his arms wrapping around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder.
“You look stunning, baby.” Max whispered in your ear. Your skin began to rise with chills. “So good.”
“You do too, Max.” You turned to kiss him on the cheek. He wore a black suit and tie, but somehow he made the simple outfit look so complex, so elegant, so royal. “Let's go.”
He opened your door for you, extending an arm as you walked by. When the two of you walked down the stairs, everyone looked. It truly was like two members of a royal family were walking into the room. Your dad whistled, your mom and Max’s pulled out their phones to take photos, Victoria smiled, holding onto her husband, Luca and Mia shared-concerning glances? Mia-without a doubt-looked worried. Like, next level worried. Cat just got hit by a car worried.
“You two look phenomenal.” Sophie said.
“Thanks, mom.” Max responded.
The eleven of you were all dressed to impress. The cameras would surely find their way to you, tonight. This charity ball was something you attended every summer, but now that Max was a celebrity who had millions of people watching his every move, cameras were going to be present. So, you all took a little extra time to look good. Luca wondered if any girls would see his photo and ask about him. Max boosted his ego and said, “Maybe.”
When you all got there, the venue was packed. A small, round table had the name cards for you, Max, your siblings and Victoria’s family. Your parents and Sophie were elsewhere, sitting at a table with high-end contributors who were older than dust.
You were on one side of Max, his brother-in-law was on the other. Mia was on the opposite side of the table and still she carried this worrying look. Was she sick? “Mia?” You asked. “Are you alright?”
“I-um,” She looked at Max. He looked away, tapping on the table to get his little nephew's attention. “Yes. I am ok.”
“Are you sure? I can drive you home.”
“Yes, y/n. I’m alright.”
Odd. All night she would furrow her brows, frown, sigh or just be overall sad whenever you and Max whispered in each others ears, whenever his hand came to rest on your knee, whenever he fed you a piece of food, whenever you leaned into his shoulder while laughing. Luca began leaning into her, whispering something that you couldn’t quite hear.
“So, Max. You leave soon, right?” She started up.
He cleared his throat, setting his napkin on the table. “I do, yeah. Four days.”
Your heart began to pang in your chest. How could you have forgotten? The three weeks Max spent with you were almost up. You two would have to go your own ways now. You were hopeful, however. This hurt way less than the first time it happened.
“What comes next for,” Mia waved her hand between the two of you. “This?”
You sighed. Why was she being so rude? “Mia-”
“What do you mean?” Max asked.
She sipped from her wine glass, setting it back down with such force that a bit splashed out over the side. “When you go back to Monaco and she goes back to the states. What happens then? Are you gonna break her heart again?”
“Mia! Enough.” You corrected her. “What is your problem tonight-you know what, no. Not even tonight. You’ve been a bitch to Max for the past week. Why?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you explain, Max.” She turned her whole body to face Luca who sat to her right. “Or you can explain, Luca.”
Luca almost spit out his water. “Me?”
“What are you talking about?” You asked. You slowly turned to look at Max. His hand came from off your thigh to the wine glass in front of him. He downed the last of the red liquid, almost as if he was refusing to speak.
“Nobody? No takers?” Mia proceeded. “Fine then, I’ll tell y/n.”
At that moment, at that table, your summer crumbled. No longer would the sun feel as warm, would the beach feel as calming, would Elba feel as homely, would Max feel so wonderful. All the worries you had, all the wonders that plagued your mind, all of the what ifs, all of the maybes-everything came crashing down. Everything became a slew of nevers, of goodbyes, of I would just rather forget you’s.
Mia sighed. “Y/n, Luca bet Max that he wouldn’t be able to kiss you this summer. And he took it.”
“He bet what?” You asked. “What do you mean?”
“At dinner on the first night you got up to go to the bathroom. When you were gone, Luca bet Max one hundred dollars that he couldn’t get you to kiss him. Max took the bet and said that he could make it happen.”
Oh. So, was it real? Was any of it real? The first night after dinner when he sat next to you by the pool, was he just trying to win the bet? When he stayed home to watch the sunrise with you, was he just trying to win the bet? When he apologized, was it just a step in his plan to win the bet? Wherever you and him would ride together in his car, go to the beach together, play games together, fall asleep on the couch together-was it for his bet? When you first kissed, did he feel good because of you or because he knew he beat Luca?
“Max,” You practically whispered. “Tell me she’s lying.”
He said nothing. There was now this deafening silence hanging over the table. You felt sick. Why wouldn’t Max just look at you and say that it was fake, that Mia was making shit up?
“Max, please.” You begged. Tears formed in your eyes. “Why wont you say anything?”
“It’s true.” Was all he said. He didn’t look at you, he looked at Luca. So you looked at Luca. He hung his head as soon as you made eye contact with him.
“How could you-why did you-Mia. How’d you find out?” Was your next question.
“Luca was playing video games with one of his friends talking about it,” She said. “And I overheard it and made him explain it all.”
“Luca, how could you do that to me?” Your voice was so quiet, so close to breaking. “You’re my brother.”
“Y/n, I-”
You stood up, chair scratching the floor as you did so. With quick, long steps, you darted out of the dining venue. Mia was quick to follow. Max didn’t get up, neither did Luca. Not that you cared anymore. There was one thing you wanted and it wasn’t an apology from anyone, it was the first flight back to New York.
You’d done it again. He’d done it again.
Max Verstappen once again had broken your heart and didn't bother to watch you cry or attempt to apologize.
It's been years since you've indulged in a vacation. What better time is there than summer? Your family, the beach house in Italy-it seems perfect. But, for things to be just like good old times, your family needs to invite his. So of course you are having mixed feelings as the boy who broke your heart re-enters your life like nothing happened.
Warnings: None
Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader
Word count: 2.5k
Poetry style | Story style
A/n: Part 3 has arrived! I rewrote this about a million times so I kinda just gave up lololololol It isn't proofread sry next chapter will prob have smut in continuation to the end of this chapter? I haven't decided yet. I'm hoping to finish this series by Saturday because then I go on hiatus for 3 months so look out! As always, let me know if you wanna be in a continuation tag!
Part One|Part Two|Part Three|Part Four|Part Five
When Max woke up the room was dark-pitch black almost.
All he could see was the turquoise glow from the pool outside, thanks to the glass patio door. He studied it for a while, watching the water idly float around, watching trees sway in a soft wind. It looked tranquil. It looked calm. For a moment, he almost fell back asleep, tucked in the corner of the couch underneath two or so blankets. Then you moved.
He almost jumped, completely forgetting that you had been sitting on the couch, too. As fate would have it, you had also fallen asleep, curled into his side with your arms around his waist. One of his hands rested on your back, another one on the top of the couch. He hadn’t even realized. Now that he did, however, he felt a little warmer, his heart felt a little fuller, his smile grew a little wider.
Max reached for his phone on a couch cushion nearby. The time was two-almost three-in the morning. He could only assume that the two of you fell asleep during family movie night and nobody had bothered to wake either of you. He was grateful for that.
Over the past four days, the two of you had grown incredibly close-inseparable even. After his apology, the days were spent falling back into the familiar rhythm you’d built as children. Everything you did, you did together. Chores? Apparently dishes were a two-person job! Mopping the floor? Two is better than one! Grocery shopping? It can be done twice as fast with two people! Even when it came to seating arrangements you and Max were together. In the car, at a meal, at a game around the table, on the couch for movies. If Max was there, you were there. If you were there, Max was there.
You rustled a little, aiming to get more comfortable in your sleep. Max waited until you stilled before slowly picking you up and laying you back down. He placed a butterfly kiss on your forehead. If you had been awake, a blush would be painting your cheeks red in seconds. Instead, you just nestled deeper into the blankets. Max smiled, turning on his heel and carefully sliding the back door open.
The cold air was refreshing, it was like a jumpstart for his lungs. He inhaled sharply, sitting down on a patio chair. His mind became occupied with plenty of questions, with plenty of memories, with plenty of possible outcomes for this summer. What would become of you two once you parted ways? Do you remember that time the two of you built a fort in the living room, and your parents let it stay up until the following summer, and when you came back it was still up? You two would be ok in the end, right?
“You should tell her, Max.”
He spun around, surprised at the sudden voice. Mia approached him, taking a spot on a lounge chair next to his. “What?” He spoke, voice raspy.
“Luca told me.”
“Luca, right.”
Mia nodded, bringing her sleeves up to her eyes. She sipped on a glass of water. “Do you love y/n? Or is this a joke to you? I mean it obviously started that way-”
“It’s not a joke.” He sighed. “I do love y/n. I swear I do.”
“What’s to come after this then, hmm? When you go back to Monaco and she goes to New York, what happens then?” Mia’s voice grew increasingly loud. Max’s eyes shifted from her face to the back door. Your figure was still curled up on the couch, but there was no way to know if you were awake or not.
“I don’t know, Mia.” He stood up, turning to go inside. “All I know is that I love her.”
“You loved her as a kid and you still left her.”
“Mia that won't-”
“Did you really change or is this just you trying to fabricate a lie once again?”
He tried to speak, to voice his opinion without waking you. “Will you let me-”
“You should stop getting so close with her. I can almost smell your bad intentions-”
“Mia!” He yelled, voice bouncing off the walls and echoing through the yard. She looked at him with wide eyes. “I’ll figure it out.”
With that he walked inside, noticing your movement on the couch. You sat up, rubbing your eyes similarly to how Mia just had. “Max?”
“Hello, beautiful. Let’s go to bed, ok?” He reached out a hand, one that you hesitated to take.
“Why were Mia and you outside? Why did you shout her name?”
Max just shook his head, opting to pick you up bridal style. You smiled, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. Sleep toyed with your body, pulling at your eyelids and weighing your limbs down. Your sister walked inside as Max began to walk up the steps. You didn’t see it, but he gave her an apologetic look. She returned one of anger, one of dread. Dont fuck this up or it’s over for good, she was telling him. I know, he wanted to say. Trust me, I know.
Max walked you up the stairs, his body heat providing a comfort no blanket ever could. He pushed your door open and laid you down before pulling your sheets over you. His hand came to your hair, brushing a few strands away from your face. You looked so delicate laying there. He could break you in seconds. He hated knowing that he had that power over you.
With a small kiss goodbye to the cheek, he was standing, ready to go into his room and try to fall asleep on his own cold, lonely bed. You hand caught his wrist, though, stopping him in his tracks. “Stay.” Your words were so quiet that he almost didn’t hear you. “Stay, Max.”
He swallowed thickly. Through your closed door, he could hear Mia’s footsteps as she wandered down the hall and back to her bedroom. Was she right? Was this wrong? Would this just lead into another heartbreak at the end of the summer? Would you always hate Max unless you were dating him?
“Y/n I-”
“Please?”
He crawled over you, his chest pressing into your back. The two of you didn’t last long like that, however. You rolled over, curling into his body. His arms wrapped around you, his hands meeting at the small of your back. “Thank you,” You whispered.
And you swear he said, “You’re welcome, my love.” As you fell asleep.
-
You woke up alone, an indentation in the spot beside you as the only evidence that Max had once been there.
You begin to wonder how long ago he left your side. Did he leave as soon as you fell asleep? Did he leave a little while ago? Did he leave somewhere in between? You smiled as your hand touched the spot on your duvet where he was. It was still warm.
“Good morning!” Your mother beamed as you walked down the stairs. Max and Luca sat at the kitchen bar, your mother and Max’s stood behind it, cooking up some sort of food. “Sleep well after your slumber on the couch?”
“God, you should have seen how you and him were cuddled up.” Luca gagged. “Disgusting.”
You smacked the back of his head as you passed him to sit next to Max. “You’re seventeen, not twelve, Luca.” Max smiled at you as you took your seat. He ran a hand across your thigh before pulling it back. Your skin missed his touch almost immediately.
“Yacht today-sound good with you three?” Sophie asked.
“Always.” Max added, raising his glass in the air. “We haven’t been on it yet this year.”
Luca sighed. “My dad and I have been working on it. A few tweaks here and there. We’re confident now that we can take it out and not get stranded.”
“Awesome.” He responded.
“Better grab a few emergency flares just in case.” You said, your mother sliding you a glass of coffee and a carton of creamer across the bar. “We all know Luca isn’t the smartest of kids.”
He stuck a middle finger up at you, to which you returned.
Going on the yacht meant there was only one possible destination. There was an island off the southwest coast of Elba called Pianosa. A small, secluded, rocky beach named Belvedere beach called Pianosa home, and it was also where your family would spend their day. It took about three hours to get there, and you all would normally stay until sunset, arriving home in the late hours of the night. You have plenty of fond memories surrounding the trip. When coming home, everyone would fall asleep except for you and Max who would sit by your father as he navigated his way home. Sometimes, when it got boring watching him, you two would run around and play in the hot tub. This year, you hoped, would be no different.
“So, you and Max.”
“Stop it, mom.” You sighed, walking shoulder to shoulder with her. The boat was a few feet away, and Max was already on it with your dad, Luca, and Victoria’s husband as they lifted heavy coolers and bins onto the deck.
“What? It looks like things are going well for you two.”
“They are, but I’m not getting too invested. He’s gotta’ go back to Monaco and I have to go back to New York. Those two places are very far away.” You stepped onto the dock. “Not to mention we have very different lives.”
Your mother just shrugged, placing one foot on the boat and accepting a helping hand from your father. “If it’s meant to be, it’ll find a way to be.”
He reached out a hand to you. “She’s a woman of wisdom, darling.”
You scoffed. “Apparently everyone is.”
The yacht took off quickly after you all boarded. You sat alone in the lounge on the second floor. You could feel the wind on your face as the boat sped up. It was refreshing. You’d missed the yacht. You’d missed a lot of things about Elba summers, you realized.
“There you are.” Max walked down the stairs behind you. “Why are you alone?”
“Just needed a breather.”
“Are you ok?” He sat down on the couch next to you, a worried look on his face.
“Yes.” You laughed. “I’m alright.”
The trip went smoothly. You and Max hung out in the lounge the whole time. At one point, Victoria and her husband came down with their two children. The six of you talked the whole time. Victoria spoke of motherhood and how amazing it had been. You all reminisced, too. She reminded you of birthday parties and summer outings. She reminded you of girl nights and bedroom sleepovers.
Once the boat ported, Luca was the first to jump off the side, nearly missing a rock. Of course your mother scolded him. What was a family trip without Luca getting in trouble? You and Mia tanned on the front of the boat until lunch on the first deck. You slid into the booth followed by a dripping wet Max. His hand was cold as it touched your thigh before pulling away-the same as he did in the morning.
“Stop, you’re cold.” You swatted at him as he scooted closer to you. “Max! Stop!”
He laughed before grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his shoulders. “So whiney.”
After eating, everyone took a quick breather before jumping back into the water. Mia went to continue tanning, you stayed seated on the first deck. Max stayed with you, too. And you were sure that a good conversation could happen but of course, Luca was there so all that was said was nonsense. At one point, Max and your little brother got in an argument on whether or not white was a color or shade. How intelligent.
“Jump in with me.” Max begged.
“Let me get in through the ladder first then I’ll jump in.”
He shook his head. “That’s wimpy. Jump.”
“Max-”
“Jump.”
You would never win this argument. So, hand in hand with him, you and Max jumped off the edge of the boat. The water was freezing. You began to worry about having a heart attack. It was a serious worry, ok? You spent the rest of the afternoon floating in the ocean, sometimes with a raft and sometimes on Max’s back. You played stupid games with Mia and Luca, you showed Victoria’s kids how to build a ‘good’ sand castle, you pushed your father off the boat-life was good.
When everyone was asleep on couches and chairs, your father pulled the boat away from the island and began the return to Elba. Max and you were together-of course-in the hot tub. You were exhausted, the sun had done a number on your body. The bubbling water and warm temperatures in the hot tub made it hard to keep your eyes open. Plus, the sun was down now, so it was relatively dark.
“I had a lot of fun today.” Max said.
You hummed, eyes closed as you leaned your head back. “Me too.”
“I always have fun around you and your family, so thank you.”
You opened your eyes, lowering your head to look at him. His hair was messy, his face was red. He looked tired but he still somehow looked so good. He only thought the same things about you. “You’re welcome around us anytime.”
He began to move closer to you, body cutting through the water. You watched him intensely as he came to your side. His eyes flicked between your lips and your eyes. You could feel his breath on your cheek. What was this? What was he doing? Why were you allowing it to happen?
His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip. “You’re so pretty.” He whispered.
“No,” You shook your head. Hopefully your sunburn was masking the blush that was darkening your cheeks. “I look disheveled.”
“You always look good, y/n.”
It was your turn to avert your gaze from his eyes to his lips. They looked so plush, so full, so warm. You wondered if they felt the same as they did all those years ago. Max’s hand came to your neck. His index finger skimmed your jaw. His eyelashes fluttered shut. You found yourself mindlessly following suit. Before you knew it, those warm lips you were wondering about were on yours. He was soft, careful with the way he handled your skin. His other hand came to hold the opposite side of your face.
He pulled away after only a few moments. “Y/n I-”
“Max-”
“I’m sorry I didn’t ask or anything I don’t know why I did that-”
You lifted your thigh to slide onto his lap. His eyes were wide as you wrapped your arms around his neck, elbows resting on his shoulders. “Do it again.”
“What?” He whispered.
“Kiss me, Max.”
He swallowed hard, adjusting how he was sitting in the hot tub. “Absolutely.”
I was the anon that asked the reason for your hiatus and let me tell you that was not what I was expecting to be the answer 🤣🤣
i feel like those Ao3 authors who are like “sorry i didnt update i got ran over by a car!” but im like “sorry I didnt update, i was busy for two months in NAVY BOOTCAMP😭😭😭”
"Even children get older, And I'm getting older too"
Life moves on, pretty quickly at that. Your last night with Carlos is one that you'll both remember forever. Even years later when he fulfills his biggest wishes.
Warnings: Suggestive content, heated make out sesh lol, sadness, happy/unhappy ending? Mostly unhappy
Pairings: Carlos Sainz x Reader(y/n)
Word Count: 4.2k
Poetry style | Story style
A/n: I LOVEEEEEE Landslide by fleetwood mac and the way this song hits you when you're about to move out-UGGHHHHHH
I wrote the first half of this then went out, got drunk as fuck, woke up and wrote the rest of it with a hangover, so forgive me if there are any errors.
Anyways, enjoy this internal dread i'm feeling turned into a FanFic. Growing up is so weird, isn't it?
I took my love, I took it down
I climbed a mountain and I turned around
And I saw my reflection in the snow-covered hills
'Til the landslide brought me down
2012.
“¡Sainz joder!” He turned around to look, a smile splitting his lips. Antonio had a frying pan in his hand as the two of you ran through his kitchen. Carlos’ hand squeezed yours with so much force that you wondered if it would bruise. It didn’t hurt, though. In that moment, nothing mattered but that damn smile that Carlos carried. “¡Anda, anda!”
Finally, you reached the back door of the kitchen. Carlos used his whole body to push it open, hoping that nobody would be on the other side. Luckily, the alleyway was empty, save for an employee sitting on a bucket smoking a cigarette. Carlos kept running and you had no choice but to keep up-your hands were still intertwined after all.
Antonio ran out the door, stopping as he watched you two make your grand get away. “Bastard! I ought to tell your father! And your father too, young lady!”
It was the same threat he used every time you and Carlos cut through his kitchen. I’m going to tell your fathers that you two are devious children! He’d say. He never did, though. Antonio was a friend to both yours and Carlos’ parents. He could if he wanted to, but he didn’t. For over ten years, you and Carlos would walk into his restaurant-situated on a busy Madrid street-and slowly sneak your way into the kitchen. Sometimes, when he wasn’t there, the waiters and cooks would just let you freely pass. But, more often than not, he was there and it suddenly became an obstacle course of running past cooks, dodging frying pans and slipping between shelves. It was worth it, however. A small, secret alleyway that was blocked off by a fence from the main road laid on the other side of the restaurant.
On the left-the building that Antonio’s restaurant was in-was a fire escape. It spanned up ten stories to an abandoned rooftop bar. Over the years, Carlos would bring small objects up there. Pillows, blankets, a small folding table, a few boxes to keep the stuff safe. He had the place designed to his liking-like it was his house or something. He’d put string lights up there too, giving the space a dreamy, photogenic atmosphere. So many nights were spent underneath the abandoned bar. You’d slept there a handful of times. You’d gotten drunk for the first time there, too. That space was yours and his. It was Carlos and y/n’s spot; everyone knew it.
So, as you and Carlos climbed the fire escape, it was hard to believe this was the last time the two of you would be spending the night up there together. It made you nauseous to think about.
“Try not to look so down.” Carlos chuckled as the two of you kept climbing the stairs. He could read you like a book, obviously he saw how upset you were. “Let's enjoy tonight.”
“Easier said than done, Carlos.” He stopped suddenly, your chest running into his backpack. His hands grabbed your shoulders and he-shook you? “Carlos stop it!”
“Sorry I was just trying to get the idea that I’m leaving you out of your brain.” He said, dropping his hands.
“But you are.” You said, evoking a sigh from him. Before he could apologize-which you knew he was about to do-you shook your head. “Listen, I’m so excited for you, Carlos, but-I don’t know. Life is going to be so different without you in it.”
“I’ll still be in it, mi novia. It’s not like I’m dying.”
“But Carlos, you’d always come home to Madrid after a race. You’d always be back to see me. We would work on school work together. I’d come to your races sometimes.” You sighed, looking at the metal ground beneath you. “But I’ll be in college and you’ll be in the British Formula 3 now. That's a massive step up. And when you do come back to Madrid, I won't be here.”
He didn’t speak, not for a while. The two of you just stood there, in the Spanish heat, looking at the ground. Life would never be the same. He couldn’t say anything to deny that. Tomorrow night, he would be catching a flight to London, and at the same time, you would be catching a flight to the United States. You’d both leave behind Madrid and only ever return as guests to your hometown. Maybe your rooftop hideaway would go untouched. Maybe some new children would find it and claim it as their own. They’d find the boxes that said, Carlito&Muneca, in sharpie and wonder what those names meant. Maybe they’d sort through your things, maybe they’d turn on the string lights and gasp at how beautiful the place looked.
Being eighteen was weird. You didn’t like it too much.
“Let's go, y/n.” Carlos grabbed your hand once again, pulling you up the fire escape. Three more flights awaited you. The sunset had just begun, but the primary color in the sky was still blue. You could still hear car horns from nearby streets. The air was still warm. The two of you were still young. At least for tonight you were.
Once you reached the top Carlos stepped aside, allowing you to take in the scene.
Oh, mirror in the sky
What is love?
The spot on the stage where Carlos and you normally sang and danced to his iPod Nano was now completely redecorated. There was a plush blanket, pillows, a pizza box, and those damn string lights you loved were hanging from the roof. A small card was on one of the pillows. It was, of course, addressed to you in Carlos’ fanciest writing.
Anyone would think that this was a romantic gesture. But you two were best friends. Since birth, really. Not a day went by without conversation between the two of you. Carlos was your soulmate. Of course you had crushes on him here and there-he was hot, funny, caring, charming; you could go on and on. But you never acted on it. Keeping him around was better than losing him.
“Carlos,” You cupped your mouth with your hands. It was beautiful. “When did you-Is that pizza from Antonio’s?”
Carlos laughed, amused that the first thing you pointed out was the food. “Yeah,” He said. “He’s pretty sad that he won't see us around town anymore, either.”
Your heart sank. Right. That's why this was all set up-as a final goodbye. In the few moments of excitement and shock that filled your body upon seeing all this, you had forgotten that tonight was it. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Vamos, let's eat.”
That you did. Carlos and you sat at the bar and ate, watching as the sun sank lower and lower over the city skyline. Somewhere along the way, he pulled some liquor out of his backpack. You two drank and talked, reminiscing over everything the last eighteen years had brought. That one time you spent the night at his house and started a small fire in the kitchen-from then on sleepovers were at your house. That one time you two took a day trip to the beach and Carlos’ foot brushed a stingray's back. That one time you were at one of his races and a driver started hitting on you, so Carlos punched him in the jaw and got suspended for three races. That one time a wild hare was in your guest bathroom and your parents weren’t home so you called him over to help and you trapped it in your mother’s favorite cooking pot. That one time he lost a bet and went streaking through his neighborhood in the middle of winter.
The two of you were hunched over in laughter, your abdomens cramping from how hard you were laughing. Carlos wiped a tear away from his eye. “And remember Mrs. Nunez? She saw me that night and sprayed me with her garden hose!”
You sniffled. “Like why was she awake at five am? And why was she gardening?”
“Literally! I was fucking freezing. The scream that came from my mouth after that-”
You both mocked his scream at the same time, laughing even harder as you remembered the old lady’s shocked face from that night. Slowly, you both started calming down, giggling as you remembered the streaking ordeal. Carlos took a sip from his beer. You drank from your rum and Coke. It was darker now, still not pitch black, but darker. You looked up into the sky, watching as clouds rolled by.
“What am I going to do without you?” Carlos asked. You looked back down. He was staring right at you, bringing the beer bottle back up to his plush lips. “Can’t you just quit college and travel with me?”
You scoffed. “And be what? Your trophy bestfriend?”
“Trophy wife?”
You swore that your heart stopped beating. Wife? As in marriage? Obviously he wasn’t being serious, right? Carlos was a playboy. He’d had plenty of girlfriends in his lifetime. From your past observations, you weren’t his type at all. He preferred dolled up girls, ones with fake blonde hair and exquisite makeup. He preferred high heels and short, skin tight dresses. He preferred long nails and longer lashes. Synthetic beauty. You were far from that. When you put on makeup, it was simple. You dolled yourself up, yes, but everything about you was natural. From your hair color to your nail length. You were a natural beauty-something Carlos had never indulged in.
“Very funny,” You smiled as you took another drink.
“What?”
You blinked very slowly at him. “Us getting married? Sure.”
He shrugged. “Why not? You don’t love me?”
“Of course I love you, Carlito.” You tried using his nickname to deescalate the situation. “But you would never marry me.”
“Bold assumption.”
Was he drunk? Or, was he shooting his shot because tonight was it? This was quite possibly his last chance, was he taking it? Was he working you up so you’d miss him more? God, this was confusing. “Carlos-”
Before you could even say another word, he was leaning forward to kiss you. His lips were warm on yours, a side effect of the alcohol you were sure. His lips were so soft, so large, so perfect. They pulled yours in with such ease, such delicacy-almost like you were fine China. His free hand came to your jaw, thumb resting on your cheek.
He pulled away first, much to your surprise. There was about half a beer left in his bottle. He downed it before speaking again. “I’m sorry, y/n. I don’t know why I thought that was ok.”
Your teeth pulled your bottom lip in. You’d just kissed Carlos, something you only ever dreamed about.
Can the child within my heart rise above?
Can I sail through the changin' ocean tides?
You reached out, both palms resting on his cheeks this time, pulling him in for another kiss. Fuck it, you thought. This was a new dynamic between the two of you, but it was one that younger you would be ecstatic about.
This time, there was more hunger behind the kiss. Carlos understood this was something you wanted, and you now understood this was something he wanted. His tongue slipped between your lips, finding a home in your mouth. His hands wrapped around your neck, not applying any pressure, just applying warmth. You felt so warm, so satisfied. This was finally happening. Why couldn’t it have happened two years ago?
Carlos pulled away again, gasping for air while resting his forehead on yours. “Come here, hermosa.”
You got off your barstool and sat on his lap, your chest flush to his. The two of you resumed your makeout session, his hands roaming your back, your hands draped around his neck. You moaned into the kiss once his large fingers snuck beneath the fabric of your shirt and touched your hot skin. It was electrifying, it was new, it was so good.
You could feel the bulge in his lap pressed against your thigh. His kisses turned sloppy, his hands moved quicker, his breath grew shorter. It was obvious he was growing impatient with you sitting right there. He was hungry for you. He only wanted you.
His lips attacked your collarbone, leaving little bitemarks and wet spots across your skin. You ran your hands across his broad shoulders, leaning your head back as he created a constellation across your chest. The night air was cold, the sky was now completely dark. The string lights were off, but the glow from the city provided enough light for you to see Carlos at work. He looked so good, so handsome, so perfect.
He chuckled into your skin, the vibrations causing you to shiver. He involuntarily thrusted his hips up, grunting as he did so. You hung your head on his shoulder as he composed himself. “Wrap your legs around me when I stand up, ok?”
You could only nod, feeling gravity shift as he rose to his feet. You did as you were instructed, his arm coming to your lower back for support. Your chest was pressed so deep into his that you wondered if two humans could possibly get closer than this. You really wished your shirts were off so you could feel his skin on yours.
Softly, Carlos laid you down on the makeshift bed. It was more comfortable than you imagined it would be, but maybe your mind was too clouded with lust to be rational. You were focused on Carlos and only Carlos.
A gasp pushed past your lips, not because of anything Carlos did, but because of a loud and sudden explosion. The sky lights up in colors of reds and yellows, blues and purples, greens and oranges. Sparks quite literally fly as fireworks rip through the once still air. Carlos is beside you now, watching the sky with such intensity you wonder if he has ever seen a firework before.
“It’s Saint James Day.” He says to himself.
You’re pulling the covers up to your chest as you catch the small, toothy smile that he holds. He pulls his knees up and rests his elbows on them. You’re amazed at how quickly his attention changed from you to the fireworks.
“You had no idea?” You ask. “I knew there would be fireworks but I didn’t know they’d be close enough for us to see.”
Carlos shook his head. “I didn’t know, no.” He looked back over to you, that smile still on his lips. “What a way to spend our last night in Spain.”
Your heart stops beating. It’s like he was hellbent on reminding you that this was it.
Slowly, he reached for your jaw once again, bringing you in for a kiss. It was soft, it was gentle. It was reminiscent of the first kiss the two of you shared only a few minutes ago. Never, you thought, do I want this to end. It did, however. Everything has a beginning and an end. The circle begins when you place your pen on the page and it stops when you’ve finished drawing it. The story begins at birth and appears like it ends on a rooftop in Madrid-semi naked with fireworks in the background.
The fireworks carry on for a few more minutes. They seem to illustrate photos in the sky. Carlos sees it, too. He pulls out his phone to snap a quick photo before turning it to you. This goes unnoticed, you’re too preoccupied in watching the show before you. He snaps a candid photo of your side profile. It was one he would cherish for the rest of his life, even if it was low quality and dark.
When the sky falls dark once more, the sound of cars below once again filling your ears, Carlos turns his whole body to you. “I love you, y/n.”
Can I handle the seasons of my life?
Well, I've been afraid of changin'
'Cause I've built my life around you
But time makes you bolder
Even children get older
And this time, it feels different. It feels like there is a non-platonic meaning to the sentence he says everyday. Carlos has been telling you he loved you since the two of you could speak. Everytime you two say goodbye his last words are, “I love you.” Every time he’s overjoyed with you he says, “I love you.” Every gift you’ve ever given him has been opened as he says, “I love you.” Every time you run into his garage after a good or bad race he greets you with, “I love you.” You begin to wonder if you’ve missed some signs along the way-if you were too immersed in the thought that, he would never date you, to realize he’s been fighting for you all along.
He answers your question when he speaks again. “All I've ever wanted in life was you. I knew that at the end of the day, I’d be alright as long as you were there, y/n. After a bad race, you were standing there waiting for me and I realized that it isn’t the end of the world. After a bad breakup, you were there to tell me that I’m not a douchebag and I’m actually a good person. After people told me I could never make it big in racing, you stood proud as my number one fan and forced me to carry on with my head held high.”
Your throat begins to burn. This was goodbye. This was Carlos’ confession.
“I have loved you for such a long time, y/n. It’s always been you. I have always wanted you.” No. “I have never clicked so well with someone. I have never thought someone was so beautiful as you. You don’t even have to try, either! You’re just so,”
He trails off, looking straight ahead at the city. His eyes glisten. You wonder if he’s about to cry. You know you’re one more word away from crying.
“I don’t know how I'm supposed to be ok after a bad day without you there to hold me.”
That does it. You hold a hand over your mouth as tears pour down your cheeks. They’re hot, but they aren't the same warmth that Carlos radiates. They’re painfully hot, his touch was pleasantly hot. You’ll have to learn to live with one and not the other, however.
“Carlos,” You choke out. He doesn’t turn to look at you, just staring straight ahead as tears of his own trickle down his cheeks. “Oh, Carlos.”
“This sucks.” He says.
“This sucks.” You repeat.
It sucks. Saying goodbye sucks. Leaving your hometown that you love so dearly sucks. Leaving your best friend sucks. What will become of the two of you? Will Carlos still love you? Will he return to Madrid and visit with your parents? Will he be saddened to see your empty room? Will he turn to look at every girl who resembles you and hope that somehow, someway, you found him? Will you do that to every man who looks like Carlos?
He leans back, laying flat on the bed. You rest your head on his chest, his fingers coming to play with your hair. “I believe with every bone in my body that you will do amazing things, Carlos. You’ll be a world champion one day. And guess what? You’re going to do it because you are strong. It’s not going to be because I’m holding your hand, it’s going to be because of your dedication, your talent, your strength, your skill. You’ve worked for this, Carlos. And you are going to do it.”
He sniffles, placing a kiss to the top of your head. “I love you, Carlos.” You say. And maybe things will be ok, maybe they won't. But you know that Carlos will go on to do great things. You know that he's the type of boy-no-he's the type of man to accomplish whatever he puts his mind to. He’ll fight for his life in that damn race car and then step out of it and make the whole room laugh and smile. He’ll make amazing friends, ones that will occupy the space you have always resided in. He’ll be happy and feel whole. He’ll think of you from time to time. Maybe you’ll visit one another when you both are in Madrid at the same time.
“I love you, y/n.”
And I'm getting older too
2026
You haven't run this fast since high school. Somewhere in the crowd, you’ve lost your husband, but you don't care. You have a mission to accomplish, a friend to see.
“Carlos!” You shout, waving your hands like a maniac. “¡Mi hijo! Carlos!”
A hand grabs you by the bicep. “You can’t be in here!” The strange man shouts. Did you run past some barriers? Yes. Did you push some young fans? Yes. Is security worried about your intentions? Yes. But there, only a few feet away, if the new World Champion.
“Let me go! I know Carlos!” You fight the man causing another to join in on the situation. Both of your arms are restrained and they’re practically carrying you out.
“Everyone says that.” One of them says.
“Please!” You beg. It’s been over three years since Carlos and you have seen each other in person. Life dragged you two apart. You thrived in college, becoming the girl that everyone loved. You made friends quickly and made memories even quicker. Carlos thrived in racing, too. He moved his way up pretty quickly, his Formula One debut coming just three years after he left. You’d seen the Youtube videos of him and his friends, you’d heard the inside jokes, read about Carlando-you knew he was happy. But, you two weren’t as close anymore. You’d text frequently, reaching out before a big race or after a difficult one. You’d facetime, too. You both had one another on social media, and sometimes he would comment on your post or respond to a story you had up. Life was different now, however. You and him were married. He couldn’t come to your wedding, it fell on a race weekend. You couldn’t go to his. You said you had work but watching him marry another girl would stir up some pain, even if you were in a happy relationship. You didn’t frequent Madrid all too much, choosing to vacation elsewhere when the time arises. But, vacations were rare now that you were a mother. This was the first time you’d been out of town since giving birth three years ago. It was worth it.
“Carlos!” You cried out once more. He knew you were at the race-he was the one that bought you the tickets-but you wanted to see him now, not later.
The commotion caught his attention. He stared for a second, trying to understand why two men were carrying out a girl, but then he saw who it was. “Y/n!”
He dropped the conversation he was having to run over to you. The hands of strange men were replaced by those of a familiar friend. You felt warm again. You felt whole.
He swept you up in a hug, spinning you around as you squealed. “You did it! You fucking did it Carlos!”
“I know! You were right muñeca! You were right!” The nickname alone was enough to make you cry. You hadn’t been called that in years. Since the two of you were in your teens.
He dropped you, hands sliding onto your cheeks. For a brief moment, you thought he would try to kiss you. He didn’t. But your mind wandered.
“I’m so happy you’re here.” He smiled softly. “None of this would have happened without you.”
“Me?”
Carlos nodded. “I carried your words with me every day. Nobody has ever believed in me as much as you have.”
“Carlos-”
“I love you, y/n.”
The tears were back, and they fell hard. “I love you, Carlos.”
He was pulled away to go do his podium celebration. The Championship had come down to the last race of the season. Carlos beat out his competitors, however, winning not only the race, but the World Championship. And as he stood on that podium, champagne spraying through the air, fireworks began to pop in the sky. It lights up in colors of reds and yellows, blues and purples, greens and oranges.
He looks down at you, a smile splitting his lips.
It seems like the highest award to achieve, but he hopes that in another life, one hopefully close by, that he can get the one thing he desires most.
You.
Maybe in another life, you followed him. Maybe in another life you two got married. Maybe in another life you reached out more. But in this life, Carlos is a World Champion. You wouldn’t trade his excitement, his pride and his joy for anything.
i always just assumed every single f1&f2 driver was older than me but then i realized im not 16 any more and was thoroughly confused to find out that im a month older than Ollie Bearman
It's been years since you've indulged in a vacation. What better time is there than summer? Your family, the beach house in Italy-it seems perfect. But, for things to be just like good old times, your family needs to invite his. So of course you are having mixed feelings as the boy who broke your heart re-enters your life like nothing happened.
Warnings: None
Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader
Word count: 2.2+k
Poetry style | Story style
A/n: Here is part 2! The angst literally hasn't began yet there is so much more to come you might hate me by the end of this lol srry ;) Also! If you want to be tagged in future parts, let me know!
Part One|Part Two|Part Three|Part Four|Part Five
“How are you feeling?”
You don’t turn around, already aware of who is speaking to you. Instead, you remain sat on the edge of the pool, feet lightly swinging through the water. There is a lot of noise coming from the house, people talking, laughing, sharing a drink or two. Outside, however, it is quiet. The comotion becomes a background noise that is masked by the chirping of crickets and the ocean waves only a few kilometers away. It is calm, it is dark, it is peaceful.
Mia sat down next to you, keeping her knees tucked into her chest. “I’m fine.” You say.
“Dinner was-”
“Tense.” You answer for her. And it was. Dinner was a never ending slew of compliments to Max, your family praising him and his family bragging about him. Did he deserve the comments made towards him? Absolutely. He was a phenomenal driver, something you couldn’t even deny. Max knew what he was doing on the track like it was second nature. Maybe it was second nature to him. But, all you could think about was the boy who left you. The boy who turned his back so quickly that he couldn’t even hear you cry. The boy who took everything from you just to disappear a few years later.
“Yeah.” Mia said. “Tense.”
Silence came quickly after that, the two of you just taking in the atmosphere around you. The sun had long set, the heat had long gone. The pool lights casted a turquoise glow over the backyard. It was beautiful. You remembered running across the tiles as a kid, jumping into the pool at late hours of the night. Max and you would be playing together and Mia and Victoria would be on their own. Life was good then. Life was simple.
The patio door slid open, unbeknown to you. Mia turned to look, however, eyes going wide when she saw who it was. With her lips flattened to a line, she rested a hand on your shoulder before standing up. “Try not to ruin your own summer, y/n.”
With that she was gone, her body being replaced by another. “Care if I sit with you?”
Again, you knew the voice before you saw the face. Max lowered himself to the ground, sticking his feet in the water right next to you. He was so close that if you moved over, just an inch, your thigh would be flush against his. You wonder if he’s just as warm as he used to be. You wonder if his skin feels just as soft as it once had. You think of a lot of things as Max kicks his feet through the water.
“We haven't had a chance to talk-”
“Since you left?”
He sniffles, leaning back on his palms. “I was going to say since I got here.”
“That works too.” You say. There are two ways to proceed. You can either cause a huge comotion, letting him know that-hey, maybe you were not over him. Maybe you still envied him for making you fall in love with him and then disappearing off the face of the earth. Maybe you guys could have made it work but he didn’t even bother trying. Or, you could do as you told yourself a week ago and move on. Let yourself have a good summer. Let the hurt come in waves but dont show it. Maybe you can outgrow it this year. “How was your flight?”
He looks at you, almost confused-like. It wasn’t what he was expecting you to say. “Uh, good. The Florence airport was packed but once we got over here everything was fine.”
You nod, looking down at the water. “Good, good.”
“How’s work been? I hear you work at a museum in New York.”
“Yeah, the Metropolitan Museum of Art.”
“Wow,” He shakes his head in approval. You don't need his approval, but you wonder what he really thinks of your job. Does he think you wasted your life? Does he think that your job is cool? At least you didn’t work at a McDonalds, right? “That sounds fancy. I can’t say I’ve been.”
“Have you ever been to New York in general?”
“No.”
You chuckle. It feels wrong to do so, but you can't help the small laugh that brushes past your lips. His dry humor is still intact you notice. What else is still the same about him? You haven’t heard him laugh yet, so you wonder if it sounds the same as before-boyish and cute. Does he still play FIFA like no tomorrow? Is his favorite color still blue?
“Do you remember jumping into the pool at like midnight as kids?” His hoarse voice cuts your train of thought in two. “Your mom would yell at us because she wanted to go to bed but now she had to make sure we showered.”
“I was just thinking about that earlier.” You want to slap yourself across the face as you say that sentence. You were thinking about him? There goes your ‘I dont give a fuck about him anymore’ deminer.
But he smiles, exhaling through his nose as he turns to look at you. “Where’d the time go?”
“I wish I knew, Max.” You say, pulling your legs from the pool. Slowly, you walk to the back door, the orange glow from the inside light painting your skin shades of golds and browns. You look almost like an angel, like a God. Max notices it. Max notices a lot of things. “Goodnight.”
He sighs from behind you. “Goodnight, y/n.”
That night after a long, cold shower, you sit at the desk in your room, looking over the backyard and pool you had just conversed at. Your palm rests on a handle to one of the top drawers, and you fight yourself on whether or not to open it. You know what's in there. You know what you’re getting yourself into. But you don’t know if you want that pain or not. It was like Pandora’s box. If you got sucked in-which you knew was about to happen-there would be no escape. You would be heartbroken all over again.
Fuck it.
You pulled the drawer open, the contents shifting forward. There were photos-hundreds of photos-and two letters. There were two pens, a pink one and a blue one, there was a small fabric square, and there were a pair of glasses. Everything, save the photos, belonged to Max. The letters, you knew, would tear you apart to read. So, you pushed those aside, opting to pick up a small stack of photos. On the back in Sharpie ink they said, 2008. You and him were 10. Your birthday wasn’t until winter-his in fall only two months apart from yours.
Pulling the rubberband away, you studied the photos. You, Mia, Luca and Victoria in the pool. You, Max, Luca and Mia eating dinner at some restaurant. Max and Luca on bicycles. Victoria and you hugging on the beach. The sunset over the backyard. Max and you, lying together on the couch tucked underneath six or so blankets, fast asleep. His arm was around you, your cheeks pressed against one another. You smiled to yourself as you felt your throat closing up. “This sucks.” You whispered.
It did suck. You just simply couldn’t understand why Max didn’t want to try. It’s not like you guys were neighbors at the time. You only saw one another during the summer, but you were still friends during the rest of the year. Why would any of that change just because he was getting popular in driving? The only obvious reason was because he didn’t want you around. He didn’t want you. It could have worked if he would have tried. But he didn’t, so why should you spend your summer trying to mend the bridge he burned?
You threw all the photos back into the drawer, slamming it shut. You turned off the lamp desk and walked to your bed in the pitch black. Whatever was meant to happen, would happen. With or without Max.
-
“You’re sure you don't want to come?” Mia asks through your cracked open door. “Max-”
“She said no.” Luca pushes her aside, sticking his head in your room. Your attention was buried in your phone, mindlessly scrolling through some form of social media. You couldn’t see Luca’s childish grin or Mia’s worrying features. “I’ll bring you back some waffles or something, y/n.”
“Whatever, Luca.” You responded. He stuck his tongue out, making a spitting noise before slamming your door shut so hard you were afraid it would fall off the hinges. “Luca!”
It was far too early in the morning to be dealing with your little brother. Actually, it was never a good time to be dealing with your little brother. He’d woken you up, close to four am, to ask if you wanted to go grab breakfast and watch the sunset. You declined his offer, opting to stay in bed just a little longer. Plus, if everyone was going, Max was going. The last thing you wanted was to watch the sunrise with Max. So, you hid under the covers for a little longer, feeling the ceiling fan drag cold air on your exposed skin.
You heard the front door close from downstairs, a signal that you were finally alone. Slowly, you rose from your bed, taking long strides across the room. Just because you didn’t want to watch the sunset with everyone didn’t mean you wanted to miss out on it. There would be a perfect view from the backyard or from the beach only a quick walk away. You sombered through the house, a soft, chilling blue being cast through the windows. You loved this time of day, before the sun was up, before the heat settled into the ground, before the world was really active. It was so serene.
“Good morning.”
You paused at your spot on the base of the steps. Max stood in the kitchen, a glass of water in his hand. “You didn’t-why didn’t you-”
He shrugged as you struggled to speak. “I thought you were going. I didn’t want to bother.”
Guilt trip me, perfect. “Max, you shouldn’t base your itinerary on what I’m doing.” You said.
“So then why didn’t you go?”
“Fair point.”
He laughed, bringing his water to his lips. Yeah, you thought. He still has the same boyish laugh. “Come,” He said, holding his hand across the kitchen island. You stepped closer, although hesitantly. “Let's watch the sunrise and hash out whatever this is.”
Face your fears? Speak to Max about the problem at hand? Explain to him that you aren't over the loss of his presence in your life? Your stomach churned at the idea. Your stomach churned even more when you realized that you were only wearing a large tshirt and some underwear that was barely covered by the hem of the shirt. Instantly, your cheeks heated up, the back of your hand going to cool one side down. God you should have gone to breakfast.
Max raised his eyebrows, closing his hand before reopening it. “Well?”
“Right, yeah, sorry.” You said, grabbing a blanket before grabbing his hand. He knew you looked good-effortlessly good. You had just gotten out of bed and still you looked perfect. Your lips were plump, your eyelashes were so long and dark, your skin was glowing. He thought you looked better now than any dolled-up girl he’d met in Monaco. You looked so good just existing, but he didn’t think he’d be able to say that to your face.
The two of you walked outside, sitting in the patio chairs facing the ocean. He cleared his throat, turning to look at you as you draped the blanket over your legs. “I’m sorry.”
“Max-”
“You deserved better. I had no right to make you fall in love with me and then just go. I knew I’d leave so I should have never ruined what special bond you and I had. I’m so sorry, y/n.”
Your jaw was practically on the floor as he spoke. Where was this coming from? What prompted him to say this? “I-I’m speechless.”
“I don’t expect you to forgive me, but can we have a few weeks that are similar to our childhood? Just me and you doing dumb stuff that we shouldn’t be doing? Making memories that we’ll tell people for decades?” He looks right into your eyes as he speaks, something he never really does. There is this soft sparkle in his eyes, this soft dazzling glow. He looks amazed, he looks taken aback. He looks so-pretty? God, the way his voice was dancing through your ears, the way his hair looked-still messy from getting out of bed-the way his hands fidgeted with one another, the way a faint blush dusted his cheeks-Max looked so desirable right now. You wanted to reach over and kiss him, to feel his warm, plush lips on your own.
You forced yourself to look away, afraid of what would pursue if you didn't. The sun had partly peaked over the oceanline. Give him a chance, you told yourself. What's the worst that could happen? He knows he fucked up and wont make that mistake again. Neither will you.
“Yeah,” You finally say. He provides a relieved smile. “Yeah, let’s have a good summer, Max.”
