𝘽𝙄𝙏𝙏𝙀𝙍, max verstappen

chapter thirty-nine.

recovery was difficult.

and not just physically — mentally, too.

camila felt hopeless. she felt scared, too. what if she didn't recover in time? and if she did, what if the car was just as terrible as it had already been? what if her hopes of redeeming herself and that third championship she so desperately craved would be gone, just like that?

she'd only spent another night in hospital with max by her side before camila physically couldn't stand it anymore. and as much as max protested she needed to stay a little longer, worried she wouldn't get better, camila was persistent. so now, managing to come to an agreement with max, she was to stay with him during the summer break, as jos was in belgium, meaning max didn't have to see him over the next month.

max thought he'd already been protective over camila, but since her crash in hungary, his protectiveness somehow managed to grow even stronger, if that was even possible.

he was so angry, at the entire team. camila could've died, and max couldn't ever erase the fear he'd felt and that dreadful feeling that washed over him after seeing the remains of her red bull at that god forbidden turn.

he was her protector — and he'd now sworn this to himself.

he couldn't ever loose her, it was torture to even think about it. so he was willing to do whatever it took to keep the woman he loved safe.

and he prayed to himself every night that he'd be able to keep his promise, that he'd always be able to protect her.

"max, i'm not fucking paralysed, i can stand up on my own!" camila protested, as max remained persistent, shaking his head as he carried camila across the halls of his apartment.

he knew camila was perfectly fine of doing things on her own, considering her broken ribs were healing exceptionally, which she had assured him multiple times, yet max still couldn't help but wait on her hand and foot. and he'd use any excuse to be able to hold her for as long as he wanted.

the pair were now curled up on the couch, camila tucked close into max's side, as max scanned the tv for a film to watch.

"what do you want to watch?" max asked, as camila huffed out in annoyance, max had begged her to decide on a film every night.

"you pick" she assured, as a typical max began shaking his head, whatever camila wanted to watch, he wanted to watch. he only wanted to do whatever made her happy.

fed up with his persistence, camila returned the stubborn shake of the head from max. "i'm serious! i always pick, your turn!"

"nope" max shot back, a smug look on his face.

god, he was so fucking stubborn. but camila knew she was just as stubborn, so as max tried to place the remote in her hands, she pushed it back into his with ten times the amount of force that he'd used.

"fuck — fine!" max groaned, as camila smiled in victory.

"let's watch abu dhabi 21, shall we?" he teased, as the smile on camila's face dropped.

fucking smart-ass.

camila tried to keep the 'angry' look on her face, but as max began to erupt into a fit of laughter, proud of his joke, camila couldn't help but crack a smile.

"you're not funny" she responded dryly, as max continued to laugh, giving her a teasing aww at her attempt to remain serious.

"if i'm not funny, why are you laughing mila?" max continued to tease, tickling her side and burying his head into the crook of her neck.