Broken ✞ Max Verstappen x OC x George Russell

Ⲥⲏⲇⲣⲧⲉⲅ 29

♬ Now, you're runnin' down the hallway
And you know what they all say
You don't know what you got until it's gone ♬

Skylar Abbott POV 

"Knowing what you know now. Would you have left? Do you wish you could take it back?" The question was a surprise, so my eyes instantly went from the floor to his eyes, making me question if I had heard it.

"Max, I-"

"It's a yes or no question," he says firmly, my thoughts surrounded by doubt. Should I even answer this?

"No, and yes, by that order. I regret what I've made and wish to take it back. I wish I could've been more sane and impartial, but I wasn't, which has brought us to this situation. The thing I regret the most is leaving through a letter; I shouldn't have been that disrespectful towards you and our relationship," I tell him nervously, and he nods.

"Why did you decide to tell me this now? Was it for your own closure? Did you want to be with George without feeling guilty whenever you saw me? Is the weight off of your shoulders now?" He asks, his eyes entirely unreadable for me. I could see the hurt and the anguish, but there was something I couldn't quite identify.

"It has nothing to do with him; he let me do it at my own pace and never forced me to tell him what happened or why I had the scars; he is a good guy and-"

"And I am the damn villain. He is the good British guy who has a temper. I am the villain who stole Lewis Hamilton's 8th championship, the rude spoiled boy raised by a narcissistic dad who keeps winning with no passion for the sport."

"You are not all that, and we know it. You lived for this sport. You had no childhood, so you could pursue this. You have passion and talent. You are proving that at every damn race you keep on winning. That is not in question. Please don't do this, don't bring George into this, and let's not point blame outside this room. I took accountability; maybe it's too late, but I am here trying to fix whatever there is to fix."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done it; I'm just confused about why you decided to do this now. I saw you with him on summer break, and I didn't expect any of this. I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I didn't notice the weight loss and that you were that sick, I can't apologize enough for that. I was negligent as you believed I was, I should've never allowed Ava to be back. Was she even sick? I have no damn idea, but you were, and I fucking missed it. Fuck. I missed it." 

He was being coherent until he wasn't. He was blurting his words out, and I was worried he was having some kind of mental breakdown.

"There was not much to notice besides the weight loss, no appetite, and general apathy. You were under a huge amount of stress, and I did say my weight loss was due to stress too. You had no way of knowing. I don't think this is about blame. This is about closure; it's about both sides being heard and known," I tell him as I reach for his hand, holding it as I try to find his eyes until I do, and he stops looking around frantically.

"How big is the chance of it coming back?" He asks, fear appearing in his eyes and I shrug.

"If I maintain a particular lifestyle, I can avoid a recurrence; I am fortunate to have entered remission. It commonly comes back in the first two years, so I will keep doing exams every six months. After that, it becomes a lesser chance, and after ten years is rare," I tell him and he nods.

"You should be doing it every three months. Is it because of the costs? Either here or in Belgium there is a good healthcare system. Are you being ripped off or something?"

"I- I am being followed in the United States. They offered me a better chance of survival, so I blew off my entire savings in the surgery and all that, so I had to come back. I didn't come back to spite you; they gave me a better offer and doubled the pay, so I had to take it before taking loans. I have been doing the exams there, and it's been going well. I have health insurance now. It's good that my dad is an American citizen, and I was born there too. Double nationality came into play there," I try to laugh it off, but Max just nodded.

"Can I help you? Can I pay for a better health insurance that would allow you to do the exams monthly if needed? I need to help in some way, I should've been the one taking care of that. You shouldn't have spent your entire savings trying to survive such a hard disease; you should be home with your parents and living life, not here." 

"I am not here to ask for anything. I don't want pity or anything. I wanted you to know why I left. Is there anything else we need to talk about?" I ask nervously as our eyes meet each other.

"Are you dating George? Are you his girlfriend?" I saw the doubt in his eyes and heard it in his voice.

"Max, I am not here to talk about George. I am here to talk about us," I have no answer to give to him.

"Okay then. Do I have a chance? Can I try to make you fall in love with me again?" His question took me aback, and I almost fell from the chair.

"What? Why would you want that? You've moved on, and you are doing great with your life as it is. You don't want me back; you don't want him to have me."

"I don't care who you've been with. If you love George, then be with him; tell me that you love him, and I will gladly step aside. But if you don't, then I want what we had back. I want you back because I love you, and you are the love of my life."

His words rented a whole penthouse in my mind because it was all I could hear, over and over again. Does he truly still love me or the old Sky? This disease has changed me in more ways than one, and I don't know if he would be able to handle all the insecurities that came from it.