Maxiel but it's Max living his life perfectly, checking every box, education, work, family, friends. He has control, everything is perfect and in place and just right.
Except one night a boy from his past ruins everything, throws it all off course.
Max is focused, brilliant, obsessive. Daniel is charming, bright, free. He has a lack of attachment to life that Max is afraid of. Daniel doesn't hold to routine, does things when he feels like it, and it's all just like that summer Max remembers with him. The summer where he had fallen in love and everything had fallen apart.
And here and now Max can't help but feel it all happening again, can't help but feel his schedules, his perfect life all begin to slide away from him because Daniel is back again, and nothing can keep Max from falling head first for Daniel. Nothing ever will stop that.
And he feels sick because for once in his life waking up seems a little bit exciting, and his classes aren't just classes, and maybe he feels a little bit more alive. It's the most happy he has felt since he got adopted and maybe that's really fucking scary, and maybe it's not.
Charles tells him this is right, that he should chase it, and Daniel just seems so bright, so far from anything Max could ever have it feels hopeless, but if this is what living feels like, maybe that's worth the chase.
Or maybe his classes are finally getting to him and he needs to stop drinking so much Redbull.
Yeah no, it's probably the Redbull, definitely not his long lost Australian crush. That would be absurd.
The fact that he would even insinuate that Max would ever sleep with Daniel makes his face red with embarrassment. Sure, Max fancies guys, guys that look a lot like Daniel actually, but they certainly do not act like him. To even imagine it makes his stomach churn.
Daniel has made himself at home while Max has been deep within his head, keen on shuffling around the sofa cushions so they better support him, he kicks his shoes to the side and Max watches in horror as his socked feet press into the fabric meant for sitting.
Max is going to kill Charles.
“Whatcha got for grub here Maximus?”
And oh my god Max is seeing red.
“Just Max.”
He bites out, pinching his tongue between his teeth helplessly. It is doing nothing to stop the growing anguish in his stomach but it is settling the rage in his chest. Daniel however, doesn't seem to care much about either.
“I could kill for some cup noodles, couldn't you Maxie?”
He ignores Max, strides right into the kitchenette like he lives here and it's so blatantly like how he remembers Daniel. He watches him search through their cupboards, open the fridge and hum satisfyingly when he finds Lando’s leftover curry. Max watches in paralyzed terror as Daniel takes it from the fridge and moves to the microwave where he heats it uncovered. UNCOVERED.
Daniel shuffles around in search of a fork and returns to the sofa with his dinner pleased once he locates one. Max is grateful that he hasn't allotted to take one of his special forks, slightly less large than Charles’s forks, and therefore more comfortable in his hand. It's difficult to explain.
As if on cue Max’s phone dings.
Charlie: Forgot to tell you! Daniel is gonna be crashing for a bit, make sure to let him in if he hasn't dropped by already!
Max wants to light Charles up the second he insinuates that Max would be completely okay with this, he knows deep down Charles is preening. He probably sees this as a good opportunity for Max to branch out, and maybe that is exactly why Max hates it.
Daniel grins from his place on the sofa and Max finds GP’s contact before he explodes.
Actually, do you think you could bring smth over after all?
-
Daniel isn't magically gone the next morning when Max emerges from his room he is very much still there, stretched out across their sofa. Max makes a groan of disgust before putting the kettle on and flicking on the lights in the shared bathroom. He folds each piece of clothing, carefully placing them on top of the closed toilet seat, before turning on the shower and stepping underneath the cold water. It's not the place he would most like to put his clothes, but their bathroom is much too small for another flat surface and so Max has to make due. The clothes are already dirty so he assumes it wont do them too much damage.
He showers quickly, washing himself meticulously and efficiently until he is ready for the day. A glance as his watch shows it has been exactly 4 minutes when he hears the bathroom door open.
“Um, excuse me?”
He wishes the voice that answers him wasn't so definitively Australian.
“Sorry Maxie, just had to-’
Daniel yawns, and Max can hear him lift the toilet seat up.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“-take a piss….?”
To his horror he hears a stream begin.
“I was- I am in the fucking shower Daniel?!”
“Yep, and I had to take a leak.”
Daniel finishes up with a shake before rinsing his hands and Max’s blood goes colder than the water in an instant.
His towel, his clothes?
The second Daniel leaves Max shuts the water off, ripping back the plastic curtain in an instant to reveal the damage. His clothes, placed atop his clean towel, are both resting on the edge of the small sink counter.
Dirty clothes, touched with piss dirty hands, on his perfect navy towel. Fluffy from a fresh wash even, it makes Max sick. He has to take a deep breath before he can take the towel and begin to dry himself off, he tries not to think about where it has been, what exactly is now in contact with his freshly cleaned skin.
The outdoor air provides an extra chill as Max opens the door, walking towards his room. His clothes for the day are laid out on his bed, a freshly cleaned polo and some jeans, it's nothing special, the same thing he wears most everyday, but it's comforting, predictable.
He dresses and composes himself enough to reenter the common area, dead set on making his tea uninterrupted before he falls too much more behind schedule.
Except that Daniel has other plans of course, and when Max enters the kitchen the kettle is not on, in fact it's empty and his mug is not in the cupboard, and Max feels his temper flare dangerously.
Daniel is standing in the kitchen entryway when Max flips around, a flowery shirt halfway undone exposing the curls of his tanned chest. Daniel is still in his boxers, the shirt just long enough to create the illusion of some modesty, still Max finds it hard to look without a soft flush creeping up his face. But the illusion is shattered the second Daniel speaks and Max is reminded of exactly why he hates him, why he has always hated him.
“I made you a coffee, I thought maybe we could talk?”
Daniel offers him the mug like it isn't Max’s already, like it isn't his coffee Daniel used. He makes the offer like there is anything Max would ever want to talk about with Daniel, like Daniel is some friend of his. His blood reaches a critical temperature and before he can stop himself he snaps. Max storms past Daniel, or a better word is that he tries to storm past Daniel. He is actually stopped by one of Daniel’s annoyingly strong arms, pressing into his chest.
“Max, we need to talk, we can't live like this, I promise I'm not trying to stir shit up I just need a place to stay for a while.”
And maybe it does sting a little, because Daniel does remember him then.
“We have nothing to talk about Daniel, I have to go to class.”
For a moment Max thinks Daniel might not let him leave, except that Daniel seems to accept the loss and drops his arm to let Max by.
If Daniel says anything else Max doesn't hear it, he grabs his bag and laces his shoes up before shutting the door behind him.
He doesn't need the Australian fucking things up again.
OKAY I had this idea eating at me for a while so I'll just put this here and see the response it gets. Essentially this is just a Maxiel University au, Max is studying mechanical engineering at MIT, blah blah blah, enjoy :)
1.5k (unedited) under the cut, very brief allusions to abus3
Next Part, or read on AO3!
-
Max isn't sure how he is passing this class, in reality his paper is filled margin to margin with blue ink. It's all smeared under his hand, a slight inconvenience that slurs the letters into each other. The lecture seems to be punctuated by the ticking of the overhead clock, the large kind you only ever see in corporate offices or lecture halls.
The professor is sliding up the next blackboard, it moves on tracks to reveal another black blank space waiting to be written on. Max doesn't have the energy to flip his page. There are almost 250 people in this room and Max is convinced none of them actually give a shit about whatever the professor is going to write.
Max can smell the burnt coffee in the air, hear the shifting of bodies weighted with exhaustion and collective boredom. He hears the overhead lights buzz, and feels the air remain unmoving. He thinks 2 hour lectures should be illegal.
-
Max takes the bus home, it's gotten too cold this time of year for him to just walk, and the trains never run well this time of year anyways. Small flakes of snow press into the glass as the bus rumbles along. The heater competes with the rushes of cold air as they make each required stop and Max thinks the T might have been a better choice by the time he reaches Westgate.
He counts each stop on the way, it's nothing clinical, he has ridden this route hundreds of times and yet he clings to the routine of it.
8 stops, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, one.
The building looms over the nearby courtyard as he steps off onto the street pulling his jacket tighter around him as he quickens his pace to the entrance hall.
His apartment, floor 3, room 33, is on the left side of the complex, so he turns the moment he steps past the iron gate. It's unhistorical compared to the buildings around it, but Max can't help but exhale an icy breath watching as the air swirls around him with each step he takes up the metal stairway.
He slows his pace up the steps, he’s eaten shit on them too many times to rush them like he used to. The air is crisp and it smells faintly of the same minty gum it always has. The Christmas tree of room 34 greets him through the window as he approaches his door.
It's only 5 pm, but the night has already permeated his surroundings, the overhead light flickering like it always has.
The door has a small wreath around the number, it's the only outwardly distinguishable part of the apartment, and that had only been by Charles’s request.
Max doesn't understand the mass hysteria around holidays, but it has shut Charles up and he really finds it doesn't bother him too much as he fumbles around for his keys. Once the door is opened Max steps inside with a breath of relief. He lets his messenger bag slip from his shoulder to the ground with an unceremonious thud, it seems to coincide with a sigh.
The livingroom light is off and Max is sure that Charles is most likely staying at Carlos’s this weekend. He is partially grateful for the silence as he hangs his coat from the peg located adjacent to the window. The only light comes from their little tree, nestled in the corner of the room between the sofas. Its lights cast a warm glow across the interior space of the living area, 4 wrapped boxes of varied size sit nestled beneath the branches.
His phone dings in his pocket prompting an annoyed sound from Max as he thumbs over the notification. He feels guilty when he sees the contact name highlighted against his homescreen.
GP: Get home safe? Let me know when you are so I can bring over some dinner, love you!
His heart softens a bit at the message and he feels the slightest bit guilty telling him that he is all set for the night, but he knows Lando has left some curry in the fridge and so he thanks him regardless.
He does however open his chat with Kimi, intending to offer any assistance with homework. He knows the likelihood of George being with Kimi is high and therefore he also knows his assistance isn't needed, but he figures asking won't help.
Part of him wishes Kimi hadn't taken to Russell so much, and he takes to telling Kimi that often. Max finds he can't stand the guy, and he is surprised they haven't killed each other yet if he is being honest. George and him had done their undergrad together, and Max can remember many times he thought the Brit wouldn't have made it to the morning.
When Kimi doesn't respond right away Max shuffles to the kitchen, heating the last of the remaining curry in the microwave before settling at his desk to eat.
His room is nothing special, some posters dot the walls but the majority of the space is dedicated to drawings. Different engines and technical diagrams line the space, his desk area itself is less bland. He has two monitors, one of the keyboards that makes too much noise when he types and a navy mouse pad beside it. He has a picture of Charles and him, and then one of him, Victoria and GP to the left. Above them both is a crude drawing of a cat from Lando and then a desklap.
The floor by the desk houses his shoe rack, two pairs of sneakers, one pair of dressier shoes, beneath the metal bars there are two iphone chargers (one is held together with copious amounts of electrical tape). They stretch equal distances to his desk and bed and Max refuses to buy another one.
Everything is just as it should be in his space and it provides an equal amount of calm. His closet is at the foot of his bed, a small walk in that houses the same sets of navy tees he has always worn, and an even smaller bathroom positioned to the right just past the entry way. Its a lot larger than the undergrad rooms, and he has a window this year, a commodity he was neglected of previously, but the space remains stale in the winter months.
He likes this, likes how every notebook and pen has a space, a place it will never run away from. It's a stark contrast to houses of his past, homes filled with things being thrown and broken. Order is a sense of safety, a sense of control, a sense of ease.
It's home.
-
Max starts everyday the same, set the electric kettle, then cold shower. It takes 17 minutes on the timer for his water to be ready and so he makes the shower 10. By the time he is dry and dressed the water is ready for tea, and so he brews the same strawberry blend before checking his bag is packed.
The only variable part of his day is the transportation, often he prefers the train, but the winter months turn him to the bus almost exclusively.
But regardless he goes to class, comes home, does his work, showers and then settles in for bed at 9.
Max doesn't have eventful days.
He likes it that way.
-
He shifts his desk chair so the leg of it lines with the rug just so before getting up to tuck himself into bed. He doesn't have to glance at the clock to know his bedtime is rapidly approaching, he closes his applied mechanics textbook with a sigh. His body has barely touched the sheets of his bed before a knock seems to disturb the silence.
Max doesn't think too much of it, the likelihood of Charles locking himself out again is high even though Max swears Charles told him he would be with Carlos for another 2 days?
Whatever Max expects it isn't Daniel Ricciardo, especially not Daniel Ricciardo with two duffle bags and a backpack.
Daniel offers him a lopsided grin before seemingly waiting for Max to step aside, and Max feels a wave of confusion settle over him.
“Can I help you?”
He knows Daniel by proxy, knows him as the party boy, the boy who ends up on every Frat’s instagram page. It's safe to say he isn't someone who floats in Max’s circles.
But Daniel just seems to look around sheepishly, and Max questions why Daniel is in shorts and without a coat in this weather?
“Ah, I'm Dan, sorry, Charles said I could stay here for a bit?”
And Max feels his entire mind go blank. Because of course Charles forgot to tell Max this. After some time Daniel seems to awkwardly slide past Max in favor of the warmer insides but Max feels a sick sense of invasion as he shuts the door behind him.
Dan settles his things on the sofa and Max can't help the scrutiny that crosses his face.
“You are staying here?”
Dan doesn't waste a beat,
“Well, if you wanted me to sleep with you instead then lead the way Maxy”
Max feels a heat rise in his cheeks as he grinds his teeth together. Oh he hates this guy.
Max makes the walk to the library in arbitrary silence. His headphones are at home. Perfectly laid out by his bed. The snow is falling a little harder now, fat flakes swirling around in soft drifts over the pavement. It's an illusion of perfect silence, the way the snow insulates the world around him, each footstep cushioned, every breath echoed. The entrance to the library has one large cylindrical door, he catches in it just as the opening swivels to close again. The warmth of the building wraps around him like a blanket and he inhales it into his lungs with a few deep breaths.
The scent of books filled the space and even if most of the ancient books are held upstairs in the restricted section, his brain fills in the scent of old books. Yellow stained parchment heavy with dust, filled with thousands of years worth of knowledge. It isn't as exciting as he tells himself it is, regardless he scans his student id, nods to the desk attendant, and begins his ascent up one of the spiraled stairwells.
He steps off at the third floor, the large marbled lion statue guardian of the floor as he steps beside it into the array of whiteboards and desks. There aren't many people on the third floor, which makes spotting Kimi easier, well truth be told its George that Max spots first. Perfect hair at least an inch styled above his skull in a photogenic little wave. It makes Max scrunch up his face in annoyance, who has that much time for their hair anyways? It must be a wig.
Kimi greets him with a smile, bright eyed and clearly interested in Max’s early presence, as he ulls out a chair and has a seat across from George.
“I thought you had a class?”
Fuck.
“I did, I missed it.”
George flashes him a snide look, closing the cover of his textbook with a resolute thud.
“You? Skipping class? My my Verstappen.”
And George fucking tuts at him. Actually tuts.
“Yeah well, I didn't exactly sleep well.”
Kimi looks worried at him but Max is much more focused on the Brit currently pouring over a polished set of notes, colour coded and marked to perfection.
“Yes, thermodynamics is trivial to most of us, sleepy or not.”
“Did something happen?”
And Max is for once grateful for the interruption, he stalls as he searches for the best way to phrase things, eloquently settling on a story he likes best.
“Charles invited some frat guy to crash for God knows how long, and he is insufferable.”
Even George flashes Max an apologetic look.
“A frat guy?”
Kimi’s face pulls into a frown as he seems to search through the correct response.
“Who is he?”
Max rolls his eyes, of course Kimi is curious.
“Daniel.”
George lets out a restricted laugh.
“Ricciardo? You have to be kidding me? You got stuck with Ricciardo??”
Because everyone knows you.
“Is he the pink shirt guy?”
Kimi looks to George in some hope of identifying the man.
“No, that's Esteban, Daniel is the Austriallian.”
Kimi’s face morphs into some semblance of shock.
“Lando’s australian?”
Max has to laugh now because Kimi is making this much more comical than it actually is.
“No, Lando’s Aussie is Oscar, Max’s Aussie is Daniel. The louder one.”
Max’s Aussie.
If only you knew.
It makes his face turn a slight shade of pink and the heat is enough to snap him out of it. Luckily it seems to have gone unnoticed as George continues to try and explain Daniel to Kimi.
Max pulls his laptop open, resuming his work as he normally would, because nothing is changing, and everything is normal and there is not an Australian sized hole in his life. He pulls up his report document and begins going over the paragraphs with Kimi, explaining the specific margins of error and chemical reactions. He nods along excitedly, asks a few clarifying questions but for the most part everything passes in a flur of academics.
At some point Charles shows up, drops off a Redbull in front of Max. Condensation leaving a wet ring on top of his pristine notes. He shoots him a glare watching the ink begin to bleed.
“Sorry about that boys, had to drop by Carlos’s,”
And Max has to shoot George a knowing look before Charles settles down next to him.
“Max, my wonderful, smart, kind, beautiful, Max,”
Max scrunches his nose up once more.
“What do you want, Charlie?”
“Cant a friend express his love for another friend without any need for favours? I'm hurt you think so little of me.”
He completes the rant by slapping a hand to his heart with a thud.
“Charles.”
Max’s tone is a warning.
“Fine yes, okay you win, do you have notes from your econ class?”
Max has to sigh, deep down he knows Chalres doesn't need the notes, it's a silent way for him to confirm that they are still friends even after Charles springing Daniel on him. He does it regardless, because as much as he hates Charles, he doesn't really. Charles gets him, always has, Charles was there when Max, well.
Charles was the only one there when things got bad.
Before GP.
He pulls the files and sends them to Charles’s email address, exchanging a soft smile with him. Charles practically deflates in relaxation, his body no longer tense as he flashes Max a look so loving he thinks Carlos might be jealous if he were here.
Max doesn't need to locate Daniel’s number, sandwiched somewhere between Rosberg and Raikkonen, Charles is able to give him a lift back to their apartment once they both finish up for the day. There is around two inches of standing snow when they make their way over to Charles' parked car, the engine rumbling to life with a steady thrum as they wait for the cold to dissipate enough for them to safely pull away onto the freshly salted roads. It's something about New England he hasn't ever really gotten used to, too much like home, like the cold that he remembers, he shakes his head of the memories.
Charles, passes Max his phone, nods for him to put something on. He navigates the Spotify homepage until he finds some playlist labeled ‘Chill Night Vibes’ he presses play and returns the phone to the center cupholder while he watches the streetlamps pass. Today has felt overly sentimental and it turns over a part of Max’s stomach, a churning sensation that leaves him feeling slightly more vulnerable than he would like. His phone buzzes in his pocket and Max unlocks it to see the familiar cats on his homescreen. The notifications continue to roll in as he taps onto the message icon. He has two from GP, the normal stuff, asking about his day, making sure he has something to eat, but he also has messages pouring in from their group chat. He taps on Lando’s icon first.
>Land0: Yo who ate my curry??
>Chilly: Your curry? You left that mate!!
>Land0: TO COME BACK TO IT? HELLO?
>Chilly: Well it wasn't there when I went over
>KingofEng: I did not eat any of it.
>Alobono: Trust me, we know it wasnt u george
>Chilly: lmao
>KingofEng: And? What is that supposed to mean?
>Italian: It was not me Lando!
>Aussie1: I only had some when you first served it.
>Alobono: Ayo 👀
>Land0: stfu
It makes him let out a soft sort of sigh. One more of fondness than resentment, he had never expected to find so many foreign exchange students here. The community, regardless of annoyance, is something he is forever grateful for.
“What in the hell do they want?”
Charles’ voice drags him out of his head long enough to make him laugh.
“Something about whoever ate Lando’s chilly.”
He lifts the phone to begin typing.
>MV3: Daniel did, sorry Lando.
>Land0: Daniel?
He shuts the phone off, placing it back in his pocket as they pull into the parking lot. Charles finds his spot, puts the car in park before taking his keys out of the ignition and stepping out of the car to grab their bags from the back. Max slips his messenger bag right over his shoulder and follows suit towards the freshly shoveled sidewalk. They walk in mostly silence, the sounds of the road accompanying their movements until Charles grabs his arm before the stairs. Max turns behind him to catch Charles’ gaze confused.
“You aren't like, actually mad right?”
It takes Max a moment too long for him to put together what exactly Charles is even talking about.
“Not really, I wish you would have asked, but I'm not mad Charlie.”
Charles looks a bit like a kicked puppy as he turns to shuffle his feet.
“You’re gonna be okay though?”
Max has to steady him before Charles will make eye contact again.
“He is my ex, an ex from a long time ago Charles, not some crazy psycho. I promise I'll be okay. Really, I'll be just fine, just, you owe me a lot of favours.”
Charles’ face breaks into a smile as they begin stepping up the icy stairs, he fills the air with idle chatter about their econ class until Max unlocks their apartment door. The space is filled with the scent of fresh parmesan and tomatoes, making his stomach growl hungrily. He hangs up his bag before taking his shoes off, and approaching the kitchen with Charles.
“Hungry boys? I made mama’s lasagna!”
Daniel is there, smiling and standing in Charles’ awfully ugly pink apron. It makes Max’s cheeks tint softly. His stomach grumbles louder.
“Fuck mate, this smells fantastic,”
“I have lots of work I have to do.”
Both Charles and Daniel look to Max, he doesn't look back before closing himself in his room. Heart thrumming as he presses his back to the door. His stomach growls, but he ignores it, changing into his pajamas and grabbing his phone.
He doesn't bother doing his homework, doesn't even open his laptop to begin grading, he just sits there. Max is sprawled across his bed, his phone perched atop his chest as he stares up at the ceiling and tries to desperately forget, to pretend that maybe Daniel isn't out there. That maybe none of this is happening.
He is startled when the phone begins to vibrate against his chest, the sensation unpleasant as he lifts it to answer the call.
Max doesn't need to check the caller ID to know who it is once the voice crackles out on the other end of the line, a thick British accent carrying.
“Hey Max, I was at the shops and they had the sushi you like, you want me to bring it over?”
The relief that spreads over him is palpable.
“Id, I'd really appreciate that actually.”
For a second GP seems to hesitate, his voice a little more strained than usual. Max knows he can probably sense how odd it is for Max to actually say yes to him, to accept the help on account of a shift in his schedule.
“Of course, I'll be there around 10:30?”
“Sounds good.”
“See you then, love you.”
And it still makes Max’s heart flutter a little as he says it back because GP is going to be here and everything is going to be okay once he is. Everything is always okay when GP is here.
Max can remember when he had first met the man, back when he had hair. The thought makes him smile softly. GP had been the 6th household that Max and Victoria had been relocated to, Max is certain they only kept them together because Max had threatened anyone who dared even mention separating them. For the first month he did not speak to GP, refused to eat anything more than the bare minimum. Avoided him like the plague.
But Vic loved him, began to play card games after dinner, began to talk to him despite Max’s warnings and soon enough they had become friends.
He is shaken from the memory by a message on his phone,
>BananaLeclerc: Danny and I are headed out to bowling, you wanna come with?
>MV3: Getting dinner with dad.
There is a brief pause where Max can hear the sound of laughter and then the front door shutting before he gets a message back.
>BananaLeclerc: Okay :)
>BananaLeclerc: Tell him I say hello, and ask him to bring some more of those cookies soon!!
>MV3: They aren't cookies Charlie, they are stroopwaffles.
>BananaLeclerc: Ask him to bring the dutch cookies then.
It makes Max roll his eyes as he searches for his discarded wallet before a knock alerts him to GP’s presence exactly at 10:30. Its a refreshing change of pace. Max opens the door with a smile and GP wastes little time lifting Max into his arms and giving him a delightful squeeze. Max tolerates it and his eyes are almost sympathetic as he steps aside to let the larger man in.
GP moves to the kitchen island to begin unpacking the grocery bag that to Charles’ delight does have a package of stropwaffles in it. He returns to the sofa with a container of sushi and a pair of chopsticks, making sure Max gives him a hum of approval before he plops down beside him.
They put on some cat grooming show in the background, the sound enough to ease the mood and deep down Max hopes GP doesn't ask him about the extra pair of shoes by the door or the haphazard way the cushions are strewn about.
His silence doesn't last long enough however, because GP is annoyingly observant and Max feels trapped the second the words leave his mouth.
“Is Carlos staying over lately?”
Max wants to laugh, because for the first time he kind of wishes it were Carlos that was taking up their sofa and not Daniel Ricciardo. But Max has never been good at lying so he bites his tongue instead and only when the silence grows too uncomfortable does he finally allow himself to speak.
“Uh no, but Daniel is.”
And the atmosphere does seem to shift, it shifts in the way that GP seemingly stiffens and Max wants to point out that his soy sauce packet is seconds away from dripping all over the carpeted floor but the air is much to tense now and Max wants to fade into the shadows of the room. Its all too reminiscent of him, all too familiar of Max’s old home, of everything and its all starting to feel too much, he can hear his pulse begin to roar.
“Ricciardo?”
His voice squeaks slightly when he speaks and Max can not, will not, make eye contact with GP.
“yes”
“Oh Max,”
And its a hug that greets him rather than some much too long lecture he definitely deserves, because really what is he doing hanging around Daniel now. Its risky and dangerous and he knows none of this is good for his 70 step healing plan curated for him from that nice lady therapist he used to see and its all screaming red flags on his part, but the warmth that comes off of GP, off of his dad, it makes Max feel like maybe he doesn't need to shove this away, maybe he can feel it and work through it and maybe just maybe this isn't all that scary.
The hug is exactly what Max needs, and he pulls away some moments later feeling refreshed, except that GP lets out a disgruntled,
“Ah shit.”
And Max looks down to see a fresh soy sauce stain on their carpet.
Max regrets not taking his coat the second the adrenaline wears off and he is standing out in the cold. It immediately bites at his nose turning his skin a red, he cant turn back to get it though, refuses to open that door again even just to get his coat. It makes his arms immediately pebble over with gooseflesh, small snowflakes floating around him as if on cue.
He sets off for the bus stop, picking up his pace into a bit of a run down the steps, where he almost eats shit. He picks up to a sprint by the time he makes it to the courtyard, the snow falling heavier over the exposed concrete of their sidewalk. He can see the bus from where he is, still too far away to be seen he waves his arms helplessly in an attempt. It's futile as he watches the driver pull away from the curb leaving him at least 10 feet from the stop panting as cold air freezes the insides of his lungs with every breath.
Max hates that it makes him kind of want to cry.
It's just a bus, and yet in the span of a few moments his entire morning has been fully thrown off kilter and now he has to walk to class in hopes of not being late. He has to walk in his short sleeve polo and jeans in a snowstorm in mid December when everyone else has already packed up and headed home for the fucking holiday break and he is stuck here grading and studying for a degree he isnt even sure he really wants and its all too much.
He debates calling GP, asking for a ride and maybe a coat, but he decides against it. It's not that GP wont come, Max knows GP would be there at the drop of a hat if Max asked for him.
That has never been the issue with GP, the issue has always come after, the moments when Max breaks and GP can see right through him and he knows there is no use in hiding away from this because there is an absolute certainty that GP already knows what he is thinking. Its a blessing and such a fucking curse because the second he says Daniel’s name he knows GP is going to fully understand and maybe he is more scared of what he isn't going to say.
Max hates the cold, hates the way it makes him remember things. Hates the way it makes him think of his father. He feels just as helpless now, staring aimlessly at the bus sign like it might will another into existence at this very moment, there is so much going on in Max's head its making him dizzy with concern and emotion and he just wants to shove it all down before he has tears freezing on his cheeks.
He stiffens at the feeling of a hand on his shoulder, turning back to see Daniel still in his stupid shirt. He wants to bite back an attack at him, except that he is holding out his coat to Max, wordless and open and Max feels slightly bad. He takes it without much more than a nod, and puts it on with shivering hands.
“I saw you left without it, come on.”
Daniel walks down the sidewalk and Max has to do a double take before he realizes he is waiting for Max to follow.
“What?”
“Well you need a ride don’t you Maxy?”
He flashes a smile over his shoulder, and Max notices he is wearing a pair of the ugliest lime green shorts Max has ever seen before. The snow falls silently around them and Max isn't really sure why he agrees, his feet just kind of follow.
-
Max knows the direction of the parking lot, Charles drives him back often enough to know where it is even if he doesn't drive. But it feels different when he approaches Daniel standing by some deadbeat pickup. It's much different from Charles’s prius, or Lando’s God awful Kia Soul. The paint is sun bleached and peeling slightly around the wheels, but it's a blueish green and the second he opens the door and sees the tattered velvet of the bench seat he knows it is most certainly an ancient vehicle that is definitely not Massachusetts road safe. He closes the door and Daniel presses the key into the ignition, patting the steering wheel with a smile when the engine eventually roars to life.
“Isnt she a beauty?”
Max scrunches up his nose slightly, buckling himself in before turning his gaze outside the frosted window as the car jolts forward.
“He is something alright.”
Daniel lets out a laugh as he pulls out of the parking lot, the radio slightly spooking Max as is crackles on, some shitty Christmas music. Daniel turns the volume dial down.
“He?”
“Cars are guys, not girls.”
He watches the snow begin to fall faster as the pick up speed on the main road.
“Maybe your cars, but Liv here is a girl.”
Max raises an eyebrow.
“You named this thing?”
“I named her Max, be respectful.”
It makes Max roll his eyes as he watches the rows of historic houses pass by the closer they get to campus. Daniel doesn't say anything after that, content to turn the radio back up and hum along to whatever Christmas song is playing. The heater buzzes and makes the air around him fuzzy with warmth that makes Max’s eyes heavy. It's refreshing compared to the way Max’s morning has gone, and it leaves him a little more than confused.
When they arrive at campus Daniel lets the engine idle as he unlocks Max’s door.
“Shoot me a text when you want me to pick you up.”
Max is half out the door and back into the cold when he looks at Daniel again.
“I don't have your number.”
It's not the right thing to say, because Max should say that he can take the bus back, or Charles will drive him or anything but ‘i dont have your number’ because that's a lie, Max knows exactly where his number is saved on his phone. It makes Daniel shift his face to an emotion Max can't quite read before returning to that easy grin.
“You do Max, stay warm okay?”
And Max shuts the door, fully submerging himself in the cold before he can look back and see if Daniel is still waiting by the curb. Instead he pulls out his phone to find Kimi's contact.
1200 words, Max/Daniel, University AU
Previous Part, or read on AO3!
⚠️ contains themes of abus3 proceed with care ⚠️
“Het spijt me heel erg, papa.”
“Im sorry”
His own voice quivers so gently it breaks off a piece of his own heart. It wavers through the cold until it reaches where Jos is standing, face red with anger. His fist is balled by his side, the other clenching the tabletop with white knuckles. Max is shivering, the wind outside only picking up harder as he tries his best not to show his distress.
Never show weakness.
“Jij verdomde waardeloze jongen, je bent net als je moeder, een vuile hoer.”
“You fucking worthless boy, you are just like your mother, a filthy whore.”
His words crack across the room like a whip, sharp where they sting in Max’s chest. He avoids looking at his father’s eyes, refuses to make contact for fear of what he might see. It only makes his anger brew deeper, Max can hear his footsteps echo over the sound of his own heart, thudding in time. He braces himself for the impact, but it never comes.
“Max! I was loading up a new track and-”
Everything freezes around him, slow motion as he turns to see Charles. Max his face twists from confusion to fear, and then rage, something dangerous flashing across the 12 year old’s green eyes.
The air is tense where Max waits, helpless to the situation as he watches Jos lower his hand. The silence stretches endlessly as he grabs his keys from the table, both boys watching him leave out the front door with a slam. It floods the room with cold air and the second the door shuts Max’s knees go weak, sliding his back down the wall until he meets the coolness of the tile floor. Charles is over him in seconds, his eyes darting between the scene helplessly until he settles on pulling Max to his chest. Max doesn't even register that he is crying, not until the wet sensation tickles his neck and Charles begins to apologise profusely in french.
That night Max packs a bag, fills it with everything he can, most of the things in his room feel tainted, so it isn't much that he takes. He leaves the posters of cars on his walls, the karting trophies, his first medal, the only thing he does take from the wall is a faded picture of his mum. He presses it to his chest momentarily before tucking it safely away in his bag. He wants so badly to take their cat, Victoria begging him to smuggle the creature into Charles’ dad’s car, Max has to explain that the kitty can't come with them, and Charles tries to cheer her up by showing her pictures of his dog. It doesn't immediately stop her tears, but it seems to sate her enough for the time being.
It's the last time he ever sees his house. The next few months spent with social workers and people who are desperate to tear him and Victoria apart, placement homes filled with odd smells and mean kids. Max is pretty used to the foster process by the time he is 15, 3 years of being rehomed, 3 years of new introductions and empty promises.
Charles’ family is more than happy for Max and Victoria to stay with them forever, but feeding them all quickly becomes a struggle, and while they never say it, Max can tell they are relieved when he announces they are going to seek out a placement house.
GP, is introduced to Max the same way all the other parents are, the social worker offers him the sofa as the taller man sits opposite him. She does some brief introductions, says a name Max won't remember, has no need to, before straightening out her skirt and leaving them to ‘get to know each other’. It makes Max roll his eyes.
He knows what they have probably told this guy, that he isn't just shy, that Max is mean, rude, ignorant, that he wakes up screaming in the middle of the night. Max is well aware he is labeled as a difficult case, he knows his file is twice the size of the normal kids. It's curious to him that this guy hasn't left already, and it dawns on Max that he must be one of the fix-it types.
Thats okay, even they will return him once they see how fucked up he really is.
“Hi Max, you can call me GP.”
GP
He rolls the name around in his mouth before giving a noncommittal nod.
“You can call me Max.”
The man seems somewhat amused with Max, raising his eyebrows with a smirk,
“Just Max?”
“Just Max.”
“Its nice to meet you then, just Max.”
So this guy thinks he is funny. Max scrunches up his nose, and locates the nearest clock, perches over the opposite doorway. He watches the seconds tick.
“Ive heard lots about you,”
And that sets Max farther off on the wrong foot, because what the fuck is he supposed to say to that? ‘Yeah, my mom died and my dad beat the shit out of me and now I hate everyone?’.
“Dont people like you have wives?”
It's the first thing he can think of to spit out, he sees the wedding band on the man’s hand, eyes returning to his face as he waits to gauge his response.
“They do typically, yes, but my wife is recently passed.”
And there is something about the calm way that he says it, infinite patience as Max watches him from across the table, it stirs something in him. Something grossly like sympathy.
“I hope that isn't an issue?”
And Max softens, shakes his head before the woman returns to the room, ushering him out so Victoria can have her turn. And GP offers him a smile as he leaves, a smile that feels different from every other one. For a moment Max lets his walls down, lets himself hope.
Later on it makes him angry, how easy it was to deconstruct his reservations towards the man, he vows to never let it happen again. Except 2 months later he is sitting in a room too nicely furnished for someone like him, eating dinner in a kitchen void of anger, living in a home without any threat of violence.
-
“Maxxxx, my wonderful, wonderful Max!”
Max groans at the sound of Charles’ shrill voice beside his ear, he keeps his door unlocked for the most part. Unbothered with finding the key every time he decides to venture out, however this marks the third consecutive time Charles has broken in in the last hour and max is convinced he might just lose it.
“What is it?”
“Always so blunt, have a little whimsy.”
“I can't have whimsy around you Leclerc. What the fuck even is whimsy?”
“None of your worries mon cher, now, econ?”
And Charles has the largest green puppy eyes Max cant say no, so he shuts his laptop with a resolute thud. Pushing away from his desk so his chair spins slightly.
“Fine, fine.”
It makes Charles absolutely glow, and Max feels his chest heat slightly, following close behind as they make their way to the common room. Yes, he is very lucky to have met Charles, even if he is most definitely one of the most annoying people on earth.
Ill continue to post the chapters to my Maxiel University AU, Something Written here on Tumblr...
however
if you would prefer to reads them on AO3 they are now available there too! Keep in mind that Tumblr will continue to receive the fastest updates to these works :)
