"What are you doing here, Max?" Aimee tiredly asked her lover. She woke up just a few minutes ago, and Max wasn't lying by her side. It was weird since Aimee could recall that they had fallen asleep together. Now, she found her lover lying on the floor in the living room of their hotel apartment.
"I can't sleep," he replied without looking at her. He was so tired, yet his mind didn't seem to shut up. It came up with different scenarios almost every ten minutes. Bad start, puncture, engine failure, crashing out, brake failure, bad tire strategy, stuck throttle pedal, miscalculation of the fuel, someone else crashing him out, a bad pit stop, problems with a gearbox, or something. All those things were living rent-free in the Dutchman's mind. He just couldn't stop thinking about it. He would need tomorrow's race to go perfectly, if he wanted to win the championship.
To be honest, he feared that something would go wrong, but what horrified him more was the fact he would make a mistake. He would make a mistake, and the championship would slip through his fingers. The idea that his sacrifices would be for nothing made him sick.
"How long are you here for?" She asked him quietly and soothingly. Aimee didn't know what to do since it was probably the first time she saw her lover in this state. Max was always so confident. He knew what he had to do and just went and did it.
"I've been here for so long," he whispered back. He was so tired, so mentally exhausted. He wanted that title so badly, but he was on edge. Mentally and physically. His father told him just push for one more day, but Max wasn't sure if he had the energy for that. The Dutchman could feel how this battle was sucking the life out of him.
At this point, he just wanted that season to be over. No matter the final result. Championship in his hands or not. 8th title or 1st. What did it matter?
"Come back to bed, Max. You need some good rest," she said as she knelt to help him get up, but the Dutchman didn't show a single sign that he would like to get up. He seemed like he wanted to stay there in the exact position she found him in.
"Just leave me. I'll come later," the Dutchman said while staring at the ceiling. Aimee didn't hesitate and just lay down next to her lover. Max confusedly looked at her. He didn't expect her to stay with him.
"Just one more day, Max. I know it's hard, but let's just do this one more day, and then it'll be over. I understand that you're tired, but this is what you dreamt of," she tried to convince him and encourage him a little.
"You understand?" He rolled his eyes. "How could you possibly understand? Have you ever fought for the world championship? Have you ever been criticised for a tiny mistake by millions of people? Have you ever felt so much pressure?" There it was - the anger in his words. He was just saying them to hurt her. It was just his way how to get these emotions out. Hurting others made him hurt less. And right now, he felt hurt and tired. He felt like a wounded animal.
"I can feel the agony in your body and the pain. I notice all those little things you don't even know about. I saw your hands shaking when you were about to get into the car yesterday. I saw you running your fingers through your hair in frustration after the quali. I knew how nasty it was when you sat on the garage floor. It almost seemed you did the thing you despise the most. You looked like you resigned, but that's not all, Max. I notice how tense you're when you come home. I feel how exhausted you have been these last weeks. I even know about those nightmares you're having." She sighed at the end. She felt so hopeless. Max was right. She didn't know how it was to fight for the championship, and she had probably never experienced such pressure, but that didn't mean she couldn't relate to him.
She dared look at the Dutchman's face, only to find out his eyes were closed. As if he could feel her glance at him, he turned his face away from his girlfriend. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes. A single one rolled down his cheek. He felt his throat closing up. He was so tired of fighting, trying, pretending, and hiding.
