Chapter Text
Max felt that after a long year, he could finally breathe normally, without the weight of obligations on his shoulders. Don't get him wrong; his season had been wonderful, breaking records, and he would definitely miss Rocky... Sometimes he thought of a way to keep the car with him forever.
But now he had fulfilled all his obligations, and he was free to play online with friends for long hours, relax a bit on his diet, escape to a sunny place if he could convince his mother and his sister's family that spending the year-end in a tropical location would be more appealing than tons and tons of snow.
But the thing was, he felt lonely. He had felt this way throughout the season, watching the lives of family and childhood friends unfold on social media.
He would love to spend more time with them and witness the growth of his nephews. He would love to share special moments... and would like to share his own moments.
But to share any moment, he needed to survive the painful mission of buying gifts for the whole family. Yes, you can judge him. Realistically, he knew he was being dramatic. Monaco was too small for the stores to be really crowded.
He took a deep breath as he surveyed the shelves, unable to decide which toy to choose for his nephews. So many options, and honestly, he couldn't even point out which toys would be truly appealing. Before he could grab a shopping cart, his phone started ringing, drawing the attention of the few people around.
He offered a small smile as he struggled to take the phone out of his pocket. Maybe people on Twitter were right when they commented that he should stop wearing such tight pants. But wearing them meant he didn't have to buy new clothes.
Lando's name glowed on the phone screen, and for some reason, Max felt a slight shiver run through his body.
"Hey, Lando," he decided on the objective and direct approach as he heard the sigh from the other end of the line.
"You should be kinder to someone about to make you a wonderful invitation."
"I highly doubt it. The last time, I had to carry you out of the bar, and that says a lot, considering I'm usually the one who can't walk."
On the other end of the line, he received an incredulous sigh, as if wondering how he could be friends with someone so dramatic. Max made an effort to pay attention to his friend's ramblings when he felt that he was being watched, a sense he had honed since entering F1.
He always knew when people were watching him, even if it was a quick, discreet, or blatant glance. It was as if his skin burned, and he still heard Lando talking in his ear when he turned to face an elderly man with kind eyes.
"So, are you coming or not?" Lando's impatient voice pulled Max out of his strange trance.
"Coming where?" Max asked confusedly while diverting his eyes from the man who still stared at him with curiosity.
"Jimmy'z, Max. Did you hear anything I said?"
"To be honest, not really," he shrugged and reached out to inspect the toys more closely.
"Pierre, Daniel, Yuki, Carlos, and I planned to go to Jimmy'z tonight, like a little early Christmas party. What do you think? It's the last chance before everyone travels."
"Sorry, mate, I'm traveling tonight. Promised my sister I'd spend more time with my nephews. Vic is threatening me with the story that I'll soon become just a stranger on TV instead of their uncle."
"That sounds a bit too dramatic. Where did she learn all that drama?"
Max wanted to point out the irony of the situation considering that Lando became more dramatic every weekend, and he couldn't deny that maybe his sister wasn't exaggerating this time. The calendar got busier every season, leaving him with no time for random visits. And it was challenging for Vic to travel with two young children, even with the help of Sophie and her husband. So yes, perhaps he would become just a stranger on TV to his nephews.
"I think maybe it's not an exaggeration this time, but we can plan something before the season starts, right?"
"Boring."
"How old are you, Lando?" he asked, making it clear that there was a teasing tone in his voice just to annoy his friend.
"Pierre won't be happy about this," Lando grumbled.
Max furrowed his brow in confusion. Why wouldn't Pierre be happy with his refusal? They had a good relationship that had only improved since Pierre left Red Bull, but they weren't exactly best friends or the type to hang out together during breaks, not even much in the weeks without races.
"Pierre?" His tone didn't hide any of his surprise.
"Yeah, he organized it with the others and asked me to invite you. Maybe he thought you couldn't resist my pretty face."
"I had no problem refusing," he couldn't resist the chance to tease his friend one more time. Who could blame him? It was fun to notice that the younger one was struggling not to shout at him.
Max rolled the toy once again and decided it would be one of the lucky ones to make a trip to the Netherlands with him.
"You're an idiot, you know that? I wouldn't have invited you either."
Max couldn't help but burst into laughter at his friend's rude response, and there he was again with that feeling of being watched. Slowly, he risked looking again, and there was the same old man observing him with curiosity.
Not knowing what to do, the blond waved in acknowledgment. Did he have something on his face? Would someone take an embarrassing photo and post it on social media?
"But I think Pierre wants to introduce you to someone. He said he overheard you complaining about feeling lonely and not being able to stand going out only with couples or something like that."
"That bastard," Max looked around to realize that his voice had come out much louder than planned. He would kill the Frenchman as soon as he got his hands on him. How many times did he need to repeat that he didn't need anyone playing matchmaker for him?
Despite not looking like it, he knew very well how to find partners when he was interested. He didn't need arranged dates, and it wasn't the first time he declined this same offer. Why the persistence?
"Don't tell him that I let it slip to you. He's sure he has the perfect friend for you. And let's be honest, Max, you're kind of stuck and lonely..."
Without thinking twice, Max ended the call, once again struggling to put the phone in his tight pocket. Maybe he should really start considering another style.
"Can you help me?"
Max hurriedly fought with his pocket and stood up to face the man who had stared at him several times in a few minutes. He might deny and add that it was not polite to stare at random people, but unfortunately, he was already used to it, and he would never be rude to someone with such kind eyes despite the strangeness of the situation.
"My grandchildren are coming to spend the holidays with me, and I can't decide what to bring. We're not very close, and I didn't want to make a mistake."
Instantly, Max felt sorry for judging the man next to him as someone impolite; he was just lost and might not even have recognized him.
"I thought about asking for help since you're choosing presents for boys," the man added, and that was the moment when Max realized he seemed to be the impolite one, just staring without saying anything.
"Ah, sure, I can try. I'm not very good at choosing presents, actually."
"Surely you must be better than me, my young man. There are so many options; it's hard to say which one is the best. Today's youngsters are very hard to please, aren't they? They just want to spend time on their phones, watching strange videos or those violent games."
Max couldn't deny that he was impressed. He didn't usually encounter such talkative people, except for journalists, but they were more concerned with extracting a rude response. Generally, he was the one who talked too much and for too long, and he felt that many people didn't like that side of him. So, he began to police himself before starting a monologue after a race or qualifying.
"Sorry, I'm talking too much. You must be busy choosing a present for your son."
Okay, for sure, he wasn't expecting this.
"Oh no, I don't have children. These are for my nephews. Do you happen to know what your grandchildren like? We can choose together."
If anyone asked, Max wouldn't have any idea how to explain that he spent more than an hour analyzing toys with a stranger and that he had casually mentioned he was traveling to spend time with family. He was so surprised that he wouldn't be surprised if he confessed that he missed spending calm nights accompanied by someone he loved, just sharing quiet moments with someone with whom he could share his fears and accomplishments—someone he could support as well. And he had no idea where all this was coming from.
"Thank you; you're a very kind young man," the man declared after seeing that he would be the next person in line at the checkout and paid for the gifts. Max refused to be touched by a stranger considering him kind; usually, people had much less flattering expressions to refer to him.
"You're also very kind. I hope your grandchildren like the presents."
"I'm sure they will." The man responded happily and started walking toward the checkout, not without looking over his shoulder with a knowing expression on his face.
"I'm also sure that all your wishes will come true. Unexpected things happen all the time, don't they?"
Max opened and closed his mouth several times without knowing how to respond. Should he say something? Could he say that his wishes had already come true, and he couldn't ask for anything more?
"Thank you," he found himself saying too late. The blue eyes were fixed on the cashier that the man had approached, but that was now empty. Max looked around confused; where had the man gone?
He had been distracted, but he was sure it wasn't long enough for the man to disappear like magic. Maybe he was just much more tired than he thought, and everything around him was at a different speed.
Max imagined that he would feel better surrounded by family, but now lying alone in the dark room, he realized that he still felt lonely. He couldn't explain exactly why he had been feeling this way in recent months; he just felt it.
It was so out of his comfort zone that he felt his eyes moisten when Sophie hugged him with a concerned expression on her face, concern that he tried to dismiss with the excuse of being just tired.
Well, he was tired now; his nephews decided to make up for lost time and took turns filling their time and space with games, drawings, and bedtime stories. Max closed his eyes tightly, hoping that the holidays would push these feelings away.
The silence of the room was interrupted by the notification of a message on his phone. Against his will, he grabbed the device only to be faced with thousands of messages popping up in the drivers' group.
"Honestly, drunks should sleep instead of sending messages," he grumbled to himself as he scrolled through the messages, as they caught his attention. At least he could make an effort to understand what was happening in Monaco.
The initial messages were a confusion of schedules and warnings of small delays. Max nodded, happy that he escaped this. The harsh truth was that Max hated delays, even the small ones. The following messages were just mishaps that soon turned into a group selfie with middle fingers pointed at the camera with a not-so-friendly message to Max, who apparently had been named a diva who loves to play hard to get.
Finally, the messages became indecipherable, with various errors and confusing phrases that could only make sense in the minds of people with a lot, and I mean a lot, of alcohol in their blood.
If he understood correctly, most of the group was infatuated with Pierre's friend. According to the scrambled messages, he was adorably clumsy, with questionable dance moves and dimples. Max wasn't impressed.
Still grumbling, he clicked on the messages Lando had sent privately. "Your supposed husband or whoever was supposed to be your husband is strangely handsome, and I'm feeling overwhelmed by his presence. Please, never listen to Pierre's requests."
Max rolled his eyes before putting the phone on silent. He was too old and tired for senseless conversations. Honestly, he felt strangely tired.
The first thing Max heard was the sound of light footsteps running down the corridor; apparently, the day was starting, and he wasn't quite ready for it. Like a child, he refused to open his eyes – yes, he would keep on sleeping.
The bed was more comfortable than ever, and the blanket felt softer than the night before, with a pleasant aroma filling the room. Speaking of which, he could smell coffee taking over the house, inevitably prompting a small smile on his face. He would definitely tease Vic about it.
The last time he spent his vacation at his sister's house, an awful smell of burnt food dominated the place; things had certainly changed a lot.
"Luka, mon petit, go slowly, you'll hurt yourself," an unfamiliar voice with a strong French accent echoed through the corridor.
Confused, Max opened his eyes; no one had informed him that someone else would spend the holidays with them. He didn't even know that Vic and her brother-in-law had French friends – he was truly out of the loop regarding his family's affairs.
The blonde closed his eyes again, contemplating whether he should pretend to still be asleep or if he should use his manners and go out to introduce himself. That would be the polite thing to do, right?
The footsteps continued to echo down the corridor as if two people were playing around. Max sighed, giving up; he would be a evolved person and be kind, despite them not reciprocating the courtesy by playing in the hallway next to his room.
That was the moment Max realized – now he was considerably awake, his senses heightened. This wasn't the same room where he had fallen asleep; his blue eyes darted in all directions, something was very wrong.
Yes, very wrong – that was the only explanation for him being back in his own room in Monaco. He was sure he had fallen asleep at his sister's house in the Netherlands; he felt his breathing accelerate along with his thoughts. What was happening?
He kicked the blankets on his way to get up; okay, he needed to calm down. Maybe, in the end, he had gone to Jimmy'z, perhaps he had drunk so much that he imagined being with the family.
He ran his hands over his face in an attempt to organize his racing thoughts; he could call Lando, yes, he would do that. But before he could reach for the phone, the bedroom door opened forcefully, startling him.
"Luka, no," the unfamiliar voice sounded again. The blonde turned to find his mini copy approaching with a content smile on his little face.
"Omm Charlie, he's awake."
Who is Charles, and why was he in his house with his nephew?
Max crouched down to tousle the blonde locks of his nephew while keeping his eyes fixed on the bedroom door; he didn't want to scare the younger one by acting strangely.
"Oh, finally," now the voice seemed closer than ever, and Max restrained the urge to tell the stranger that he shouldn't freely roam around someone else's house, let alone make funny comments about others' sleep schedules. How should he behave?
He lowered his eyes to check on Luka, who already seemed very energetic; the blue eyes fixed on the door when he heard a small sigh. A man in sweatpants, a slightly wrinkled, loose white shirt, leaned against the door; chocolate-colored hair was tousled in all directions, giving the man an innocent and adorable look.
Not adorable, no, this unknown man had invaded his house and was with his nephew; everything was still very confusing for the Dutchman.
"Mon cœur, are you okay?" the man's eyes narrowed in concern, while they seemed to analyze and check if everything was fine with Max.
Was the man talking to him? When he realized that the man moved away from the door frame, Max decided to respond; it was better to keep him at bay.
"I am."
The man's expression still held suspicion, and Max found himself forcing a smile that clearly screamed discomfort; the brunette opened his mouth, ready to respond, but something made him change his mind, to the great relief of the blonde.
Should he kick the man out or question his presence in front of Luka? That would be very strange?
"Let's have coffee, everyone is already waiting," Max knew the message was for him, even though the man's eyes were fixed on the little blonde clinging to his legs.
Seizing the brief moment of distraction from the unknown man, the Dutchman analyzed him; perhaps he could find out something about his identity. He was handsome and seemed friendly, but distrust is always a good ally. The eyes continued to examine all the details until they came across a golden ring on the man's hand.
Okay, maybe he was married to someone Victória knew? But still, that didn't explain why he was in his house, nor why Max was no longer in the Netherlands. Did they put something in his drink?
"Omm Maxie, coffee," Luka declared, holding his hand, and it was at that moment, when the little fingers squeezed his, that he felt something strange on his finger; in panic, his eyes stopped at his own hand, which also sported a golden ring.
WHAT WAS THIS?