⟡ I go by Alex and I'm still in school trying to figure out what I want to do with my life.
⟡ I write as a small hobby it has always been something I've enjoyed and I've finally started to get the courage to share it.
⟡ Other hobbies I find myself doing include: gaming, crocheting and watching movie's occasionally.
⟡ Get to know me a bit more by checking out my straw page (linked above)
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What to expect from me:
⟡ Besides creative writings you might find me talking about what's on my mind which can be anything from something going on in my life to my current hyperfixation.
⟡ I like having a schedule so you'll probably find me posting creative writings every other Sunday (CET).
⟡ I like to reorder and chance up things sometimes so don't be confused if either my profile, masterlist or creative writings layout changes.
Summary: When Max's schedule gets a little too busy, he had completely forgotten how much he needed a haircut, but luckily, even as his hair started to fight back, he had you as his saviour.
Word count: 1098
Warnings: None.
A/N: Sorry for having been away for a hot minute, life got a little busy, but now I'm happy to say that I've finally graduated from college, and I will slowly start to upload regularly again. But enough about me, I hope you enjoy this!
— ★
It must have slipped his mind, Max thought as he tried to remember the last time he had gotten a haircut. He had to use more gel than usual to get it to stay in place, it was thicker, of course longer, and harder to manage. It all pointed to him needing another haircut.
But once he was satisfied with how his hair looked, he placed the gel back onto the shelf where it came from, and washed the excess wax off his hands before stepping out of the bathroom, and just like that, his previous thoughts of getting a fresh haircut left his mind.
It would first come back again when, once more, it was too late to do anything about it.
Parc Fermé, having just come out of the car, the distant sound of engines roaring and his team cheering for him. His usual routine had kicked in, stepping up to his team by the fence, letting himself be embraced, then promptly moving over to get weighed.
After passing the inspection, he continued to remove his helmet, and then, the finale, his balaclava. With a gentle tug and a tilt of his head, it came off, his hair now looking much like it had done that same morning before he had promptly flattened it.
There was no laughing, no pointed fingers. The cameras would be shoved into his face regardless of what his hair looked like, but for a brief moment, as he, with a single hand, tried to flatten it, wondered if anyone actually took note of it, he knew he must have looked ridiculous.
He relatively quickly made it back to the garage, suddenly itching to get his hair looking proper before he headed to the cool-down room, where he would face even more cameras.
Combing his hands through his hair, feeling the thickness of it as his fingers ran through it, finding small knots here and there.
But it seemed that just as everything was getting futile, and he was forced to face the party.
“—Max!”
His saviour, you.
He turned towards the sound of your voice, watching how you came up to him, a big grin on your face.
“Hey,” He greeted, “Everything alright?” Max had just seen you out in Parc Fermé, where he watched you get swallowed by Red Bull personnel as they all wanted to congratulate the race winner.
You nodded quickly, a silent, reassuring gesture, “Just feeling a little squeezed” The laugh that followed your comment made a slight smile form on Max's face, “I thought you had gotten used to that, no?” He teased back, his hands falling from his hair to readjust the grip on his helmet.
You shook your head softly at Max's comment, feeling your cheeks heat up, but the deep breath you took had been enough to make you feel less embarrassed. “You look a mess,” You had pointed out, as Max's hands fell from his hair, but yours replaced them, and to your best ability, you tried to get his hair to lie down.
He let out a short chuckle at your comment. “I noticed,” He replied, tilting his head forward slightly to give you a better angle.
It had become a thing you've started to do, being Max's rescuer, being the one to save him from any embarrassment he had with his longer hair. It wasn't something he had asked for, but he had grown to enjoy it, your hands running through his hair, nails running over his scalp, he could get addicted to that feeling.
And just as always, you managed to get his hair sorted out in no time. His hair was getting stiff from the sweat. “There we go,” You said as you pulled back, fixing a few strays before you pulled your hands back.
With no mirrors around, Max could only trust you, and he usually did, but he couldn't help the hand that came up to smooth his hair down just a little more.
A low laugh left you, “Don't ruin it,” But you took no offence to it, the corner of your lips curved upwards, your hands coming up to push his away.
Your smile was, as always, infectious for Max, who let out a low huff as you took his hand in both yours, squeezing it. At the moment, Max put minimal thought into the mechanics roaming around the garage, and it resulted in him squeezing your hand right back.
“Sorry, Schat,” He said. He couldn't help the way his gaze went to your lips. He loved to see you smile, he always tried his hardest to make you smile.
You accepted his apology with another firm squeeze of his hand. You knew how he tended to be with his hair. Letting go of Max's free hand, you let your hands fall to your sides, and you watched how Max readjusted the grip on his helmet.
For a moment, you took in how his hair looked. Something about his longer hair made your cheeks blush. You didn't want to admit it, but you definitely preferred it longer, though you had a slight idea that Max also knew this.
The garage started to fill up as Max's car was rolled back into the garage, Mechanics getting it ready for transport. It made Max tear his gaze off your lips, watching how the mechanics handled his car.
But as his car was tended to, Max remembered he also had other duties to tend to, and though he didn't want to head for the cool-down room, he knew he had to.
A sigh left his lips, and you knew immediately what that meant, “Here,” You held your hands out, willing to take his helmet from him, “I'll see you on the podium,” You continued as your palms made contact with the helmet, feeling its heavy weight.
Max hesitated for a moment, wanting to drag the moment out a little longer, but he still let you take the helmet from him, “The podium, yes,” He repeated, flexing both his hands, giving them a little shake.
You smiled at him, watching him step back. You held the helmet close to your chest, making sure not to drop it. It warmed your heart as he smiled back at you. He didn't give you a grand goodbye, his hand had only brushed against your bicep as he walked past you.
But it had meant more to you than any big kiss would. You looked over your shoulder, watching him walk to the exit of the garage, heading for the cool-down room.
From now on, I will have a different attitude toward race weekends. I have learned my lesson not to jinx things. From now on, I shall be as pessimistic as possible (even though I was doing that already, but shhhhh).
