Coming Home - A Lestappen Story

Half A Man

"Max Verstappen in an astounding defeat for his walk away championship chances, finishes in 6th place today in Monaco" Words that Verstappen wasn't used to hearing that often, he found solace in winning. Max wasn't one to lose, and when he did it upset a certain person more than it upset himself. 

"FUCK" Max screamed into his helmet as he crossed the finish line. Anger coursed through his veins as he followed into the pit lane, parking his car. Max steps out almost immediately and pushes past people in the garage to get back to his room. He slams the door shut and throws his helmet down onto the small chair in the corner of the room. Max's phone vibrates, notifications from Twitter and the Formula 1 app flooding his feed. 

Max is not a person that loves social media, he always finds it better to stay away from it when possible, even after a win. Verstappen was inclined to not use social media due to the near constant hate from Formula 1 fans. It didn't matter if he had won a race by a lap or finished in dead last, there was always a faction of fans who despised his every waking move. 

Verstappen was invited to the after party, as was every other driver. He accepted only because he found some small amount of happiness in not being alone. Max arrived at the party fashionably late and unfashionably overdressed. He immediately headed for the bar, happy that he could finally intake some alcohol to wipe away some of the pain that was building from the loss. 

The party had raged on for hours, and as time passed by, the amount of alcohol that Verstappen had ingested was reaching near "blackout" drunk. "No more. Take a break" the bartender yelled across the bar table to Verstappen. He let out a sigh before walking away and finding a few drivers to talk to.

It would be a lie to say that Max wasn't jealous of Charles Leclerc tonight. Max wishes it was him that was being celebrated tonight, but that doesn't mean that he wasn't happy for Charles. 

People had begun to leave for the night, and when Max looked down at his phone and realized it was already 3am, he decided he should head back to his hotel for the night. He offers Charles a congratulations before getting a ride back to the hotel from Pierre. 

Max Verstappen had gotten back to his hotel with the help of Pierre Gasly. Max fell asleep on the car ride to the hotel, the weight of the loss weighing heavy on him. He knew that his dad was definitely watching, and already thinking of ways to "fix" his son's mistakes. 

"We're here." Gasly says as he opens the door to the backseat of his car, grabbing his own belongings as well as Verstappen's. Max is jolted awake by the sound of the car door slamming shut. He slowly opens the passenger side door and pulls himself up, bringing the rest of his energy to use as he tries to wake up again. 

"Good job dude on getting some points today" Max sheepishly says to Pierre, who had placed 10th in the race. "Hey.. I'll take one point over none" Pierre remarks, "Same to you dude, you fought hard for your position, and we all know that Monaco is no easy feat." 

Max nods, "yeah". They both walk into the hotel and walk into the elevator, both of their rooms on the same floor. Max's phone begins to vibrate in his pocket, he doesn't even need to look at who's calling. He already knows, hell who else would be calling at 4am? Max knows that not answering the phone will only make his father more angry, but he can't answer it in front of Gasly so he lets the call go to voicemail. 

Max smiles at Gasly as he unlocks his door and walks inside his room. He shuts the door and throws his belongings onto the bed. Max flips on the small lamp next to the bed, and sits down. He pulls out his phone and sees the missed call from his father. He also notices a voicemail that he had left, but Max doesn't bother listening to it. He dials his father back, who answers almost immediately. 

"Why the hell did you not answer Max. You don't get to lose a race and then ignore me" Jos said angrily over the phone, in a tone sharp enough to cut Max deeper than a bullet wound. "I'm sorry. I was in the elevator and couldn't talk. What's up". Max replies, trying to keep what remains of his composure, together. 

"What's up? What's up is that I have a son who is not even trying to win races anymore. Two weeks ago you lose to that child from McLaren, the week after that you nearly win a race you should've been ahead by miles in. Now you cede Monaco to your rival whose win has shook up the championship, what is wrong with you?" Jos replies, leaving a small moment for Max to reply before continuing on. "Why aren't you trying?". Max doesn't really know how to reply to that, he could tell the truth that his car wasn't performing as well, but he was well aware his father would not take that answer.

"I'm sorry Dad. I'll try harder, I want to make you happy." Max says quietly, nearly choking up on his own words. "What makes me happy is you winning, and you aren't meeting those expectations. I won't have a son who isn't winning. I'm coming to Canada to talk with Christian, I will expect to see you there." Before Max can even reply, his father hangs up the phone, leaving Max staring silently against the wall of the hotel room. 

Max began to cry softly, his father was always very good at making him cry, and he never knew why. Was it the time he left him at the gas station for losing a carting race? Was it the time that he hit him on the head for talking back? 

Max thinks about his family and how empty he feels in his relationship. He continues to cry as he throws his phone on the ground. All that Max wishes for is for the pain of the loss to cede, he had never had intentions of actually ending his life, but his dad definitely knew how to bring that out in him. Max grabbed the pillow off of his bed and placed it against his face. Max screamed into the pillow as loud as he could, he screamed all of the words he wish he had the courage to scream at his father. He removed the pillow from his face, placing it back down on the bed before taking off his shirt and walking into the bathroom to take a shower before going to sleep.

TW: SELF HARM -Skip ahead to the next bolded message to skip TW-

Verstappen turns on the water before stepping into the shower. He wants to make his session a quick one at that, he was too tired to drag it out for as long as he usually does. 

He looks down at his arms, covered in scars from the years of his father's abuse. Verstappen didn't love that pain of the razor, but it brought a release from the mental anguish he almost constantly felt. He brought the razor against his skin and slowly began to cut at his skin.

The blood fell immediately, dripping down to his feet before being washed down the drain. Max winced in pain as he felt the blade slice into his skin, but for a single moment he forgets about his father. He forgets his 6th place finish. He forgets how much of a failure his father makes him think that he is. 

Max begins to cry, as he feels all of the pain from the race fall out of him. His attention is pulled away from the blood dripping into the drain to his phone on the bathroom counter, he washed the blood off of his arms and placed the razor on the counter. He opened the curtain to read the notification.

Message from: Charles Leclerc: "Good job today Max. See you in Canada"

Max smiled down at his phone, as he realized he had completely missed a message from Christian as well. He sighed and ignored the message, thinking he would reply to it in the morning. Max's mind is brought back to Charles when he gets a second notification from the younger driver. 

Message from: Charles Leclerc: "Sorry Perez couldn't bring points for the team."

"He is so damn lucky to have qualified first" Max scoffs as he dries himself off with a towel. He slips on a pair of underwear and sweatpants before picking his phone off of the bathroom counter and slipping under the covers of the hotel bed. He types up a reply to the message from Leclerc. 

"Thanks. Congrats are in order for you as well I suppose." Max types and presses send. Max is almost disappointed when Charles doesn't read the message, hoping they could talk for a few moments. "He must of fallen asleep" he laughs lightly before placing his phone on the nightstand next to him. 

As tired as Verstappen was, it should have been relatively easy to fall asleep, but his mind was stuck on what tomorrow would bring. What the next race would bring. The thoughts kept him awake for a while, before sleep was finally victorious in its fight. Max closes his eyes, as he finally finds peace in his deep slumber.