Finding Home - an f1 romance

chapter 1

Max Verstappen (POV)

I've been rotting away in my bed for what's felt like endless days. it all blurs together with sleep, nightmares, and a heavy feeling in my chest. I barely get up anymore, sometimes getting something to eat, although i've lost weight during this break. sometimes I go and harm myself again. sometimes I drink alcohol and black out. overall, I've been breaking and falling apart.

My phone rings, and I cover my face with a groan. quickly, I shut off the blasting sound. I've ignored every single message and call all break long. My phone goes off constantly, and I keep switching the button to turn on and off the sound. One part of me switches it on thinking it will motivate me to get up, but the other part hates the idea of contacting someone.

Get up, the sane part of me urges. Stay in bed where it's safe, the irrational, true part of me remarks. I curl up in my sheets again, and fall into a restless sleep once again.

~

I wake up to my phone beeping with my alarm. but not the regular alarm. No, the one to remind me of important events. for the first time in weeks, I jump up and immediately check the date. Monday. February 25th. I have media day in two days. I panic and look through some of my notifications.

5 missed calls from Mother
72 missed calls from Jos V.
31 missed calls from Raymond (Manager)
37 missed calls from Christian H.
9 missed calls from Checo
53 missed calls from Danny
2 missed calls from Unknown Number
14 missed calls from Carlos S. Jr.
3 missed calls from Charles L.
7 missed calls from Lando N.
19 missed calls from Alex A.

I scroll through the list of all my missed calls. I have a few for every driver on the grid, the team principal, my parents, and GP called a few times. My trainer called a whopping 107 times, all of them missed. I check my messages.

3,407 text notifications.

My stomach drops. Guilt settles in. I feel guilty for ignoring everyone and everything, although I had some reason. I listen to a few of the voicemails, all of them basically telling me to check my damn phone and call them back. I check the texts from Christian, and I see one from today. He tells me to come down and meet him in Bahrain as soon as possible. My trainer told me to get the fuck up and start responding, that was three weeks ago. The big group chat with every driver on the grid has more texts than usual. A few of them are angry at me, and literally saying rude things about how I'm not picking up and being an asshole. Daniel tries to help the way the other drivers perceive my lack of response, which i'm tremendously grateful for. He always has my back.

A sprinkle of texts include: Max pick up, Max text back, Max where are you, do you want to hang out, what are you doing, text me back.

I sigh and head to my mirror, ready to wake up and get into an active headspace.

I have more than a stubble, it's grown into a shaggy looking beard. My hair is overgrown. I look like utter shit.

Running a hand through my hair, I panic and decide to cut my own hair. Over the break, taking care of myself has become less and less of a priority, leaving me to this state of laziness.

Being lazy is just a sign of weakness, my father would say. I cringe at the thought and try to make myself look put together. Might as well act the part.

~

I head towards my hotel room, already sick of people and life. My social battery ran out several encounters ago. As much as I love how supportive fans are, I hate having to constantly act nice and deal with invasive reporters.

Before I can make it, Carlos comes by, a small grin on his face. The top teams usually have the same hotels, so I guess I'll be seeing many drivers this weekend.

"How are you, Max? Didn't hear from you all break." He tries to sound nonchalant, but the tightness in his face and the worried look in his eyes reminds me of how I ignored everyone.

"Good. Yeah, didn't have my phone on me," I lie. My old teammate nods as if he understands. "I'm going to go in my room."

He claps me on the back. "See you around, mate." I try not to groan at the idea of having to see other people.

I quickly lock myself inside of my room shoving my suitcase away from me. The guilt hardens in my stomach. It's gnawing at me, tempting me to give in to the urges going through my brain. I can't harm myself, I chant in my head, over and over and over again.

Before I can do anything, my phone rings. The last of my energy seeps away as I hear it. Christian H. flashes across my screen. I relent, answering the call.

"Hello, Christian," I greet.

Christian makes a frustrated sound. "Finally answering, huh?"

I swallow hard, panic flaring up. "Listen, I didn't have my phone on me and I—"

"I don't want to hear it," he cuts in. "I'll talk to you later. Right now, you need to get down here to our temporary conference room."

I try not to heave a sigh. "Okay, I'm coming."

~

For some reason, I expect one of two things: a) getting yelled at or b) some technical shit about the car.

To my surprise, it's neither.

The room is practically empty. Christian is sitting on the far end of the long table. A lady in her mid-forties or so sits to his right, manilla folders in hand. On his left sits a girl who looks in her twenties, chocolate curls falling gracefully down her back, full lips tugging downwards in distaste, a look of annoyance crossing her face at the sight of me.

"Hello everyone," I say, trying to look presentable for whatever meeting this is.

Christian twirls around a pen before saying, "Have a seat, Max." He vaguely gestures me to sit next to the annoyed girl. I make my way there, and she stiffens, the annoyed look once again gracing her features.

The older woman spreads out her manilla folders, opening a few. I immediately spot the contracts.

I freeze. "What are the contracts for?"

"You didn't tell him?" snaps the young woman.

The older woman sighs. "Enough of this, Natalia. Quiet down and let me explain." Natalia leans back in her chair and crosses her arms.

"Max, listen to what this lady has to say," Christian says carefully, and I'm instantly intrigued yet terrified. I'm way too exhausted to deal with this, so I hope they cut to the chase.

"Natalia here is in some trouble," the woman explains. "Her father does some excellent sponsoring for this team, and he only wants what's best for his daughter. To help the both of you out, Christian, her father, and I have come up with the best solution. Fake dating."

I blanch and roll my eyes. "This isn't some fairytale novel," I remark, still confused on how this is the best solution.

"Max," Christian warns.

"Anyways, the plan is for you to sign an agreement. Max, you have to consistently post about your new girlfriend, as well as attend a few events her father organizes. Natalia, you also must post about your new partner, but also attend races and galas and events."

"How long?" I cut in.

The woman shrugs. "For now, let's say until the end of the year. Let's see how it goes. We'll reconvene before her summer break. Any questions?"

Natalia conveniently keeps her mouth shut. Christian gives me an annoyed, pained look, telling me to not ask any questions. I'm still very confused, but I refrain from any extra comments.

"Alright, let's draw up these contracts!"

a/n
hey guys first part posted!

if you have any suggestions comment them and i might just add it to this story. thank you!