─── ･ ｡ʚɞ ･
❛ 𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔. Warm and close,
as fresh laundry and here we are, Tuesday.
Of course you love me ━ you are wearing
one of my socks. ❜
To prevent marmalade from crystallizin...
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ON THE AFTERNOON OF NIKOLAAS'S FIRST GO-KART PRACTICE, ONE THOUGHT DOMINATED MAX'S MIND: BEING SUCCESSFUL AND BEING HAPPY ARE NOT THE SAME. He has known that from an early age, of course. The realization struck him somewhere somewhere between all the unreturned smiles from his father and the silent car rides back home regardless of the trophies and records he broke; it was hidden someplace beneath the four quarters of Monaco illustrated on a map his mother had gifted him and the quiet wish to see his sister some time soon. He could be successful or he could be happy, but he could not be both at the same time, and whatever nonsense people throw around online about his childhood, Max will always appreciate that Jos made sure he learned that lesson young.
Still, he just hopes Nikolaas will take his time to learn it for himself.
"With my first championship win, I'll get you a big house, Miss Honey." The boy's words were spoken as facts, not dreams, as he nestled more comfortably in the car seat Max had to purchase last minute from Bumpstart Babyshop, a store he never envisioned he would set foot in. "With my second championship win, I'll hire Max so he can drive you wherever you want, Miss Honey. That way, he'll have a job too."
Max tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, a smile creeping onto his face at the boy's sheer innocence. "Good to know you've got my future covered," he joked, his words barely registered as his gaze drifted to the passenger seat. Honey's laughter filled the car, soft and unguarded, with her eyes wrinkling at the corners in a way that made something tighten in his chest. The light caught her just right, and before he could push it away, the thought slid in quietly: Is this what it would be like if he ever chose to be happy instead?
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Sunrise Muffins and candied ginger served in the morning, strolling through children's stores with idiotically charming names, listening to songs he would've never chosen himself but found himself loving because it made her hum quietly under her breath. The unsure tilt to every child's word, the way he instinctively reached out to hold his hand when crossing the street, and the warmth of her smile as she looked at him with eyes full of trust—all these things Max has never allowed himself to consider before.
