Eight photos from the past which history is darker than the night

Chapter 2

Pierre knew Max was sitting on the balcony. The blinds were closed, but the door was opened. He felt he had to talk with the Dutchman, he had to explain him everything and, what was the most important, apologize him for... but for what? Pierre didn't really know, but he felt like he should apologize just for seeing... that.

Pierre stood in front of the door to the balcony. He took a deep breath and counted to three. He put his hand on the doorknob and gently pulled the door open. A cold gust of wind hit him on the face. Good that he had a hoodie on, Pierre thought, there was really cold. It was already quite dark outside, but he saw Max who was sitting on a mat, which was laying on the floor, with head lowered, just with a light T-shirt on. The Dutchman was looking at his hands in which he kept eight photos. He looked... bad, Pierre thought. It was the first time he saw Max in such a state.

"Max..." Pierre started hesitantly. "I'm sorry... I shouldn't have saw... that... I'm sorry..."

"It's not your fault" Max answered quickly without even looking sth him, but his voice was shaking. "I should have checked those drawers."

Pierre didn't know how to answer. Max tried to take a blame on himself that he, Pierre Gasly, found those photos! And he wasn't able to say anything. It annoyed Pierre so much, he wanted to say something, but he just couldn't, his voice stuck in his throat. He never was in such situation before.

"Something more?" Max asked, looking at Pierre for the first time since he saw him with photos in his hands, crouching in front of the cupboard.

"It's cold here, maybe we'll go inside?" the Frenchman said nervously.

"So why are you still here?" the Dutchman asked. "Go inside if it's too cold for you."

Pierre didn't know what to say. He looked at Max. In his eyes Frenchman saw so much pain that he couldn't handle it. He started to turn around, but he couldn't do that to the end, he froze. He was in total mess. And he couldn't imagine in how much bigger mess Max was.

"Pierre, why the hell are you still here?" Max repeated his question, his voice shaking even more.

Pierre looked again at the Dutchman. And instead going back to the room, he came closer to him.

"Max..." he started. "I know it can sound stupid but... do you want to talk about that?"

Second after Frenchman said that, he started to regret that. It was unnecessary, he should've just leave the balcony and give Max time, he thought. What came to his mind, to ask him such a stupid question. You are stupid Pierre, so fucking stupid.

"Pierre... it's really not worth it..." Max said. "I'm not worth you listening to me... get out... it's past... it's fucking past... it's fucking fucked up past..."

And then Pierre realized that Max Verstappen was breaking down ahead of him.

He was shaking, tears were running down his cheeks. Pierre knew he can't just stand there and look at him. He came even closer, sat next to him on the cold tiles.

"Max... I know I'm not psychologist or something but... I think sometimes it's good to talk" Pierre said. "And... you can talk with me, if you want."

What the hell was that, Pierre?

"It's past" Max whispered.

Pierre looked at the Dutchman. The past of Max Verstappen. One of the biggest mysteries in the F1 paddock, at least according to him and a few other well-known for him people. Thing about which everyone talked quietly, about which people tried to not remember. But Pierre knew something, he remembered Max from their karting times. He remembered all the stories about him going around the paddock. About how his father beats him if he doesn't win or he has a clash with another kart. Once he asked his older teammates about it. They declared that they saw that and told him that if he want to saw it, watch Max carefully after the race. Pierre remembered well when he saw Max being hit by his dad for the first time. It was in Lonato, the first race ever in Max's career he didn't win. Alex Albon overtook him two or three laps to the end. When Max got out of his kart and taken helmet of, he received a slap on his face. Pierre remembered how shocked he was when he saw that. Since that moment he always tried to avoid contact with Max's kart, he just didn't want him to be slapped again. He wanted to know more and more, he found in the internet a few articles about Jos abusing his wife and children back in 2008. But he never dare talked about it with Max. Because it wasn't proper to just ask. What he was supposed to say? Hi Max, how are you? By the way, maybe your dad is abusing you? Pierre just tried to think that everyone are overreacting and maybe it's not that bad, but now... now he knew that...

"You want to know, don't you?" Max asked after a few seconds of silence.

Pierre wanted to know so badly.

"Max... I just... I'm here, if you want to talk" he said.

"I'm already so fucked up that I prefer to tell you... I don't want you to make your own story about... that"

Max was looking at him for a moment, then moved a bit to give him some space to sit on the mat. He still couldn't believe that he just agreed on telling him about those photos. It seemed to easy to persuade him to do that, almost impossibly easy. Max took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. Pierre thought he stopped breathing for a few seconds after which he looked at him. Then he put ahead of himself those eight fucking photos in some order. Probably chronological order, Pierre thought. After a few impossibly long seconds he pointed at the first of them.

"Malaysia 2001" Max said. "Me and Kimi. Back then uncle Kimi."

Uncle Kimi. Pierre remembered how, still in karting, Max always called the drivers his uncles.

"I think there's not really a lot to add. Maybe just that it was the first and the last race won by my..." he stopped for a second "dad. He taken me with himself to the podium. I think it was pretty nice."

"Do you remember that?"

"Yeah. I have a lot of photos from that weekend. Generally I like Malaysia, you know? Being there for the races always was something... special. I don't know why, maybe because there was so hot? As a kid I loved being there. Mick too. It's nice that I won the last Malaysian Grand Prix."

And despite Max said there is not a lot to add, he started telling Pierre about many things which he had done with Mick and their sisters during the weekends in Malaysia. He told him about eating ice-creams which were everywhere and they were getting them for free, about playing tag on the track despite the heat and how he once felt down and injured his knees and elbows and it hurt him so much. But around him were nice uncles whose were giving him sweets and he was happy. He told him about all the stupid and irresponsible things they had done with Mick, like when they accidentally damaged Mercedes' front wing in 2010, when Micheal took him on the race with himself. He was talking about it like about the most normal things on the world and Pierre felt a bit jealous again, just like in their karting days. In karting, all the kids were jealous about all the cool things Max was doing. But there was also another side...

"Back then it was fun" Max said, a little smiles appeared on his face.

His eyes slowly went to the next photo.