malicious | max verstappen

thiry six.

"Right. The championship." He snapped his fingers, "How can two rivals be sleeping with each other while being in one of the most intense championship fights in the history of Formula One at the same time?"

He was starting to get on my nerves, despite how many times I've tried to calm myself down. "You can do all that if both parties are mature enough, Carlos—"

He scoffed and chuckled at my words as if I was being humorous, "As if either of you know anything about maturity."

"Can you stop being an asshole? I literally didn't do anything that allows you to treat me this way."

"I'm not being an asshole, Elyse." He defended, "I'm simply opening your eyes to show you what's really in front of you. Do you know what shit show will go down if the media found out about this?" He raised his tone slightly, "You'll be shamed for fraternizing with the enemy. The media will grill you alive, hell, you can lose your seat over it!"

"Oh my bad, fucking excuse me, Carlos, for wanting to feel love for the first time!" I raised my hands in the air, "I don't even care about losing my seat anymore because I know I'm not going to be receiving a renewal contract with Mercedes' for next year. So who the fuck cares anymore?! Let me be happy for once." I blurted, "God, I regret ever telling you about this."

"You can regret telling me about it all you want, but don't come crying to me when he ends up breaking your heart. I warned you." He stopped in his tracks, "Enjoy it while it lasts."

He left, leaving me with an uncomfortably bittersweet feeling lingering around me. I itched to shake it off, but the feeling stuck onto me like a soul-sucking magnet.

I didn't bother to get back to the club, I opted to order an Uber and head back to the hotel – despite it being too early for that. I was just not feeling it at all.

Carlos and I barely ever argued throughout the 20+ years I've known him. If there was any arguing involving us two, it would usually be us versus someone else. And in the very few cases that we were against each other, my mom was always the one to fix things between us.

Now with her gone, a nauseating pit settled in my stomach, unsure of when we will resolve things. I knew that something as stupid as this wouldn't break us apart— our fight wasn't that big anyways. I knew he was trying to look out for me and be the big brother he has always been for me– which I appreciated, but part of me hoped he would at least be happy for me. Happy that I was able to overcome my fears and trauma, and for the first time in forever, was able to be comfortable and happy with someone, romantically.

I don't know what overcame me when I got to my hotel room that made me burst into tears. I had a good crying fit for a long 10 minutes. Shortly after I gathered myself, changed out of my clothes and into the hoodie Max gave me, someone knocked on my door.

I lifted the hood of the sweatshirt, hiding my tear-stained face before opening the door. When the door opened, I found Max standing with a worried expression on his face. His hair was messy as if he was playing with it to get rid of his nerves and he was picking at his nails.

Once Max noticed my bloodshot eyes and smudged mascara, he wasted no time in wrapping his arms around me, engulfing me in a tight and comforting hug. All while repeatedly kissing me on the forehead.

When I broke away from the hug, he tilted my face to have a good look at me. He spotted a tear slipping down my cheek, then gently wiped it away using his thumb.

"Do you want to talk about it?" His voice was so compassionate and tender, it made me fall in love with him all over again.

I shook my head no. He didn't push me to say anything else.