Away We Go • 2 • Formula One

Chapter 55

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When I rolled onto my side Friday morning to reach out for my Fiancé, my hand once again found nothing but empty sheets. My alarm had yet to off, but there was light peering through the  cracks at the top of the curtains, a sure sign that the alarm was probably going to be going off soon. I forced myself into an upright position with the intention of getting out of bed to find Max. Just as my bare feet made contact with the cool floor, the bedroom door creaked open and in he walked.

The purple colour underneath Max's right eye was exaggerated by the accompanied puffiness of the skin, significantly more prominent than how it looked before bed last light. His lip was already healing, the cut being reduced to a dark red line. Around the cut on his eyebrow, a black and green bruise was forming. He walked towards the curtain with a certain tightness in his movements before thrusting them open, revealing the grey sky that covered Budapest. There was no way his appearance would go unnoticed in the paddock, however that doesn't mean that I'll help him cover it up as much as possible. The less people are talking, the better. 

I couldn't help the frown that formed at my lips as I remembered the reasoning behind his injuries. My heart still didn't want to believe that Lando and Max had gotten into a fight, especially since Lando was the least violent person I know. Even though we're not on the best of terms, I couldn't help but wonder how bad his injuries were. One thing that's probably for certain is that he'll be wearing some of his sponsored sunglasses to cover some of the bruises. 

"How're you feeling?" I asked, tucking my legs back underneath the warm duvet. Max continued to stare out of the window for a few moments before turning his head in acknowledgment. He raised his shoulders up, and then dropped them in a shrug. When he's trying to hide his real emotion, I noticed how Max often resorts to actions over words. Today, it's silence, and with Lando yesterday, it was violence, although I doubt he was able to conceal any of his anger. "Is it safe for you to be getting into the car?"

Max switched his gaze back to the scenery outside. "I'll be fine."

I tilted my head to the side, analysing him. His brow was furrowed and the muscles in his arms were tensed, making his biceps bulge more than usually. Do I press him further, or just let him brood? "You know you can talk to me about anything." Good, that's good. 

"I just know I'm in so much fucking trouble," he said with a heavy sigh, running a hand through his short hair. He stared outside for a few moment longer before finally sitting back down on the bed. I reached my hand out and placed it gently on top of his at the first opportunity, being mindful of the bandages concealed his battered knuckles. 

I wet my lips with my tongue, shuffling closer towards him. He looked so disheartened. "The FIA won't be able to do too much about it if it happened off track."

"It's not the FIA I'm worried about," he confessed. "Christian was so mad yesterday and I know that I'll be feeling that heat until the summer break at the earliest. Now both of his drivers are disappointing him so who knows how long it'll be until someone else is in my seat."

"That won't happen," I reassured, gently squeezing his uninjured thumb. "Look, if Lando was the one to throw the first punch like you said then I don't see how the blame will be put on you. Sure, it's not the best image for the team to have, but it could've been worse. If Red Bull think they can drop you for this then they'll have an orange army in full force storming headquarters until they sign you back. You're their most important member whether they like it or not."