Little Did You Know

Chapter 20: ¿Está locochón, no?

They arrived two days earlier in Montreal. The Canadian GP had always been one of the most thrilling races of the year, but for Checo, it held a different kind of tension this time. His family had arrived—his parents, Paola, and Toño. They were here to support him, yes, but the real reason behind their presence was toddling around the motorhome with a big smile on his face, excitedly showing off Pato the plush duck to anyone who'd listen.

Little Max had become the darling of Checo's family. In just a few short months, he had worked his way into their hearts, and they showered him with affection. From the moment they arrived, it was clear who the star of the weekend really was.

"Maxito!" Paola's voice echoed as she bent down to Max's level, scooping him up into her arms with practiced ease. The boy giggled, kicking his legs in delight. "¿Cómo estás, chiquito? ¿Te acuerdas de mí?"(How are you little one? Remember me?) she asked softly, though the way Max wrapped his arms around her neck gave her the answer she needed.

Max adored them all. Whether it was Paola, who doted on him as if he were her own, or Checo's parents, who couldn't stop cooing over the little version of their son's boyfriend. His siblings played with Max constantly, never tiring of his excited chatter and high-pitched giggles. It was impossible for Max not to bask in the love and attention he received. Everyone treated him as though he were the most precious thing in the world.

Checo couldn't help but feel a twinge of gratitude. He loved his family, and their affection for Max was reassuring. But there was another emotion lurking beneath it all—worry. Every time Paola caught his eye, he saw the same concern reflected in her face, the unspoken truth they all tried to avoid. The longer Max stayed de-aged, the less likely it seemed that he would revert back to his normal self anytime soon.

Paola lingered by Checo's side, watching Max as he played with her son, all of them laughing together. Her brows furrowed, the worry lines on her face deepening. "¿Qué tan probable es que regrese pronto?" (What are the chances of him coming back soon?) she asked, her voice low and cautious. Checo stiffened slightly. He knew the question was coming, but that didn't make it any easier to answer. He sighed, glancing at her before his eyes fell on Max again. 

"No lo sé, Pao," (I don't know,) admitted, his voice heavy. "Le preguntamos a los doctores... pero la verdad es que nadie sabe."(We've asked the doctors about it, but truth is, no one really knows.)

Paola nodded slowly, not pressing the issue further. "Es solo que... ya ha pasado mucho tiempo,"(It's just... it's been quite a while,) she murmured, her voice tinged with sadness. "Checo, ¿y si...?"(what if..?)

"Paola. Por favor, no," (Please don't,) Checo cut her off gently but firmly, shaking his head. "No quiero pensar en eso. " (I don't want to think about that.) It was something none of them wanted to acknowledge, let alone say out loud. They had all been waiting—hoping—that Max would return to his normal age after a few weeks, maybe a month at most. But now, with two months having passed, the future felt uncertain. Like a coma, Paola had said. The longer Max stayed like this, the less likely it seemed that he would change back anytime soon.

Checo's heart ached at the thought. He missed his Max—his partner, his confidante, the man he loved with every fiber of his being. But every time he looked at this tiny version of him, so full of life and innocence, he felt torn. He couldn't imagine life without this little Max either.

"Checo, sé que no quieres pensarlo, pero tenemos que ser realistas. ¿Qué vas a hacer si no regresa?" (,I know you don't want to think about it, but we've got to be realistic. What will you do if he doesn't come back?) Paola asked softly, her hand gently squeezing his arm.