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2024-10-28
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2024-11-17
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Jar of Flies

Summary:

The Verstappen name was already a rather stained one. That coupled with the fact that Max was only seventeen years old and on his way to make his Formula One debut meant an utter shitstorm amongst fans and journalists alike.

On the other hand, the debut of another Sainz was praised widely. Sr. was an exceptional rally champion and nothing less was expected from his son in Formula One.

Polar opposites, like sun and moon. Teammates and rivals yet wholly intertwined by the fates themselves.

Notes:

baby's first fic! notably this wasn't really based on anything that happpened irl with toro rosso but instead by a story i remember about ferrari! specifics arent important but basically during pre season testing, charles was out driving and "missed" coming into pitlane to switch out and carlos scolded him over radio lol the vibes were silly with ferrari but not here in red bull purgatory!!!

this fic will have song themes (unique ik...) all from Alice in Chains! today's chapter was Rotten Apple from the Jar of Flies album. super good song, give it a listen if you arent already an aic fan. future chapters will have songs used off of other aic albums, whatever fits the vibe the best. on the topic of chapters, prepare for carnage in the future... sorry toro rosso boys (im not)

come follow me over on tumblr @mitchellcoolboy123 for chapter updates, art, and other motorsports related shenanigans!!

Chapter 1: The Matador and the Stier

Chapter Text

Murmurs of love and fulfillment were present throughout his life but these concepts seemed foreign and hard to grasp. Afterall, how can it be predetermined? Who was deciding which people were compatible and who wasn’t? How did anyone figure any of this out? Soulmates. It was a ridiculous concept…

 

People have gotten married to others who didn’t have the same mark. People have lived lives without ever meeting their soulmate. People have carried the awful burden of living knowing their soulmate has died. People fall in and out of love all the time. This had happened with his father and mother. Perhaps neither of them had looked close enough to see the nuances in the miniature shape on their chests. Miss a curve here and a point there, suddenly years of your left had meant nothing.

 

Max has seen his mark, it’s quite hard not to. Not often would he dwindle upon it though. A soulmate wasn’t something Max thought he needed. He needed wins and points, not a girl who was supposed to be perfect. The mark was there when he was born and it will be there when he reaches his end, then maybe in his next life he will care about it. The mark was directly over his heart, about the width of three fingers and an unnatural, inexplicable shape. Half was elegant, curly and round while the other half was rigid, sharp, and harsh. If he were feeling particularly whimsical, Max could say the shape reminded him of the sun and moon. If the fates were real, they sure liked to play…

 

That being said, Max couldn’t ignore the gentle prodding at his mood from emotions that weren’t his. A pull had always been there, though most of the time it was subtle and inconsequential to his own life. The first time he felt something big was when he was a young child, not even at double digits yet. He felt a sense of overwhelming joy, like he had won something important despite not being in karting at this point in his life. Eventually when he did get into karting and won his first title, Max would feel a sudden rush of deja vu. He felt that same feeling before but it just wasn’t his joy. At the time, he didn’t know what this meant but in retrospect it all became a little clearer.

 

Contrary to popular belief, Max wasn’t a complete loser who only liked cars. He had a girlfriend despite being young and seemingly only focused on his career. They weren’t soulmates and, frankly, Max wasn’t a good boyfriend. He didn’t see the point in a relationship at this time, especially at their ages. If this soulmate thing was true, this whole thing would end up being a waste of time for the two of them. It wouldn’t take an expert to say they wouldn’t work out and Max knew that. Though, he wasn’t the heartless machine his father made him out to be. Max entertained the relationship and never broke it off until he was signed to Toro Rosso. For both of their sakes, it would be better to part ways. She deserves someone who wanted to date her and Max needed to put all of his attention into racing now that it was serious.

 

Apparently Max had been feeling a bit whimsical. He had been lost in thought staring through the window of the car his father drove, only coming to when his father jerked the car into a parking spot. His father was droning on about something he had tuned out minutes prior, likely something that was not important at the moment. At just seventeen years old, Max Verstappen would be following in his fathers footsteps and will become a Formula One driver. He hadn’t made it just yet in the eyes of his father though. Toro Rosso was Red Bull’s junior team. The goal was to get onto the main team. The goal was to win races. The goal was to win championships . So, yes, he made it but did he really? There was still time to screw it all up and end up as just another spark in Formula One’s vast history. The sport’s youngest driver and a prime example of how easily you can be chewed up and spat back out by this sport. There’s still time to become a truck driver as his father says.

 

The Verstappen name was a bit stained in this sport. If the public weren’t sticking their noses up at Red Bull employing a minor they were definitely up in arms about the fact that he was a Verstappen. His father, Jos Verstappen, had quite the troubling run in Formula One. Max had heard whispers of what happened with his father’s career but never anything from the man himself. Max didn’t dare ask directly but the story has been told by others in murmurs as he passed by.

 

Jos’ career was rather bleak at the beginning. He was nothing special, just another midfielder collecting points for a team instead of doing something big… until he suddenly wasn’t anymore. After yet another mediocre season and being dropped from his team, Jos suddenly started putting in wins the very next. The points margin grew and Jos won a championship… but then someone took a closer look. Multiple devices in the car were deemed illegal and gave the racers a substantial advantage over the rest of the field. Papers of other teams were found in their possession and logs were caught on the team spying on radios of competition. Points were stripped, wins were stripped, the championship was stripped. While not banned from the sport, Jos only lasted a few more years with teams that needed him as driver as a last resort. Just like that, an entire name and country were tainted.

 

Despite all of this, Max was still magnetized by racing. Cars and their inner workings were mesmerizing to him. They were like complex puzzles for him to pick apart and figure out. Max needed that satisfaction of knowing exactly what he was in control of whether that be what grid position he gets or something more nuanced like which cog turns what. He wanted that thrill of going impossible speeds and the high of standing on the top above everyone else. His father couldn’t do it but Max could. He knew he could. His father knew he could. Everyone who raced against him knew he could.

 

Max climbed out of the passenger’s side with a bag already tossed over his shoulder, hand firmly gripped on the strap more due to anxieties than security. The winter in Abu Dhabi didn’t feel like a Dutch winter. The air was dry and the land was warm without a single flake of snow for miles. Today was the first day Max would truly get to climb into a car and call it his own. He had experience driving practices for the team in the past but today was the start of him being able to call it his. The idea of naming the car something stupid and inappropriate was turned over in his head during the walk from the parking lot into the paddock. At the end of the day, Max was still a teenager who enjoyed a good sex joke.

 

“Max,” His thoughts were interrupted by his father once they entered the paddock. He had grabbed Max by the shoulder right out of earshot of the garages being used by Red Bull’s junior crew, “I’d like to remind you of our talk, first impressions last. Your teammate isn’t your friend, he’ll stand in your way.” Jos talked low and in Dutch to ensure no one potentially eavesdropping would get it, “No matter how tempting, don’t let him get to you.” With that, Jos patted Max’s shoulder and beckoned him to follow into the controlled chaos of the garage.

 

Suddenly the weight of the world felt like it just fell upon Max. A suffocating anxiety that dwelled dormant in his gut now felt like heavy waves crashing down on him and filling his lungs. The realization that he’ll be competing against people with potentially better machinery had hit weeks earlier but it had just dawned upon him that there would be someone so easily compared to him; his teammate. Equal machinery can’t hide a skill issue and that was terrifying. Max was on the edge of glory and the teammate he’s only had glimpses of for the last couple of months could be what ruins his future.

 

Entering the garage behind his dad, Max felt like an animal with his tail between his legs. His eyes darted around at the engineers and equipment while his father spoke with who Max assumed was the head of staff there to observe this round of testing. Max had met him before but he couldn’t exactly remember his name or what he fully looked like… Maybe it was Horner but that didn’t matter at the moment.

 

It was all in his head, anxieties and stress manifesting into paranoia, but Max couldn’t help but feel like he was prey about to be eaten alive. Engineers smiled and shook hands with Max and Max returned the pleasantries with a sweaty hand, still keeping an eye out. Max wasn’t sure what he was looking for but any information that can be used to get the upper hand on his teammate would be good. Though Max couldn’t say he was absorbing that much. He caught his mind wandering again, wondering what his teammate looked like and what his personality was like. The nightmare scenarios of a vicious man twice his age ripping him a new one had been replaced with the idea of a kind young man with a soft smile who wanted to know everything about him when he was informed that they would both be rookies. Max knew he wasn’t here to make friends, he knew he couldn’t make friends, but with temptation dangled in front of him it’s only human to take the bait. To have someone to understand and walk through it all with him made Formula One seem just a little less intimidating.

 

Then, he saw something. Carlos Sainz 55 was written on the suit hanging on a cabinet on the opposite side of the garage. That name stuck in his head like a mosquito in tree sap. Curiosity blossomed instead of fear that he previously expected. That little Spanish flag in front of his name suddenly humanized him from a concept in Max’s head to a real person who was in the same situation as him. His teammate- Carlos- was here. Max shifted his gaze until he saw a boy standing next to an older man across the garage near those cabinets. That was him. That was Carlos Sainz. That was his teammate.

 


 

Carlos didn’t look like a monster. He looked nearly identical to his father, a rally legend with records one could only dream of matching. Max didn’t know why but he wanted Carlos to so badly look and act like a monster. Instead, that was thrown right back in his face. His previous thoughts seemed a little childish now and Max felt embarrassed by that. He hadn’t vocalized his thoughts to anyone but he was starting to feel extremely out of place. He was immature and still a kid for all anyone cares… Carlos looked young but like an adult.

 

Carlos looked shy and introverted, keeping his head down while the world moved around him. It was like he was in his own world while his own father talked with another garage staff member. His fingers ran over his bottom lip as he stared away from Max. He noticed big brown doe eyes and long eyelashes. He noticed the rosy discoloration on his cheeks and the way his hair curled out from the Red Bull hat he wore. He noticed shadows of stubble on his face and how his slack shoulders briefly rose with every breath he took.

 

They were the same; human and young getting into something unfathomably bigger than either of them were. Max didn't know how but he felt it. It was a gut feeling, unsupported yet somehow he knew it had to be true. He wondered if Carlos struggled with his name like he did. Was he stuck in the shadow of his father or was he ready to glow brighter than his father ever had? Does he see his surname as a trophy and mark of success or a burden that he could never live up to? Was being named after his father an honor to him or a warning to never slip up and taint that precious name? Was he also feeling the pressure of his father?

 

Max doesn’t know how long he was staring but suddenly brown eyes are on him and his own father has disappeared from his side. He looks into those eyes, oblivious to who they belong to until he wasn’t. Max whips his head away, pretending to hear his name as he peers over the shoulder of an engineer to look at a computer screen with numbers and symbols he doesn’t understand. Embarrassment soaks in, his face turning a shade of red as he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment.

 

Weakness. That’s why he was staring and nothing else. Max sees weakness. Max is the hunter and Carlos is the prey, not the other way around. Carlos doesn’t look bold. He doesn’t look like he will fight. At least, that’s what Max tells his subconscious and that lingering pressure of his father despite Jos not being in the room anymore.

 

Suddenly a hand grazes his shoulder, causing Max to suddenly tense. He turned around to be standing face to face with his teammate, Carlos. Max’s expression was filled with a shocked surprise while Carlos looked at him with shy kindness and an unmistakable glint of hope in his eyes. Carlos raised his hand in a wave, his eyes taking two glances away as Max stared at him unmoving and a little bug eyed, “Um. I’m Carlos, I’m your teammate. Wanted to say hello.” Carlos said, his voice kind and his accent thicker than honey. Now with them this close, Max noticed more. The freckles splayed across his cheeks, the crook at the corners of his eyebrows, how big and gentle Carlos’ eyes were… Max almost felt something too. A dark energy, comforting instead of ominous. It was like that feeling of a heavy rain shower at night, slow and methodical. Time seemed to slow down and suddenly Max felt like he could breathe again. No anxiety, just big brown eyes looking into his.

 

Max broke out of his bewildered trance with a vigorous nod as Carlos’ smile grew a little wider and awkward, “Yeah! Finally nice to meet each other.” He said. It was a bit too enthusiastic and that made him cringe internally. He felt like all of his defenses had been ripped down. All of his assumptions were the furthest thing from the truth and guilt swelled in his stomach for ever having thought awfully of the other boy… Because, yes. They were both just young boys, “Ah- I’m Max.” He said after a brief moment having forgotten to introduce himself.

 

Carlos’ smile grew toothy and genuine, “Nice to finally meet you too.” Carlos said, nodding in acknowledgement with the same shy and kind smile plastered on his face, “Good luck with testing.” Carlos said, patting Max on the outside of his arm before disappearing around a shelf of tires in the garage. Just as he appeared, he was gone again. His father was right, first impressions last. It would probably be years before Max stopped thinking about that smile and how much of an embarrassment he had been in this moment.

 

If Max weren’t so loopy he would have given Carlos a ‘you too!’ in response but something about that boy just threw him off his game. He stood there like an idiot with a smile on his face until his brain cleared the fog that was Carlos Sainz. He felt an unusual hollowness when Carlos had left despite barely exchanging three sentences with him. Before, he felt like he could finally breathe and that the whole world had just paused when face to face with him... Now he felt like everything suddenly jolted to life again. The garage sounded loud and chaotic like it was before, the smell of gasoline and burnt rubber returned, and he remembered why he was here. Max’s smile fell and he reached a hand to clutch at air over his chest, completely lost in thought until a voice spoke to him; Jos.

 

“You seem distracted.” His father commented, seemingly manifesting into the room at the worst time. Max knew that wasn’t possible but at times he had to wonder if his dad had a superpower that could detect whenever Max wasn’t at peak performance. Clearly, it was just a coincidence and if he weren’t distracted he would have seen his father return from a discussion with an engineer.

 

Max turned to his father and dropped his arm down to his side. His expression was neutral as he shrugged, “Just… taking it in. The garage, the car.” He replied, seeing that twitch of untrusting in his father’s expression. Max was lying and Jos knew that… Max knew that Jos knew. Neither of them said anything. Jos simply nodded and replied vaguely, “Keep your mind clear. We have a briefing before you drive.” With that, Jos beckoned Max towards the wall of the garage where engineers sat with computers and radio equipment. Buttons and lights with numbers and codes he couldn’t understand were plastered across notebooks and dashes. An onboard was playing on one of the screens, the others had footage of the other cameras on the car. Max felt his heart involuntarily skip a beat. That was Carlos driving.

 

During the whole walk through, Max was only half there mentally. Even with the overbearing presence of his father looming from behind Max couldn’t find it in himself to keep his mind from wandering. Anxiety from pressure and hate settled in the back of his mind while whispering flashes of freckles on flushed cheeks and gentle touches from a warm hand on his arm clouded his vision and muffled his ears. He kept jumping at movement in the corner of his eyes, hoping to catch another glimpse of his teammate though he knew Carlos was already on track taking the shared test car on a joyride.

 

This was some form of mental torment. Max hadn’t even gotten into the car and he can already feel his teammate fucking with him. This had to be a mind game. The fake, sappy kindness to get Max to lower his defenses so Carlos could snatch up priority when Max becomes too soft to stand in his way. This was what his father was warning about and Max had already become vulnerable to the trap. Somewhere deep down, Max didn’t want to believe this. He wanted to believe that his teammate was truly kind and those soft brown eyes truly wanted to know him… But that isn’t the case. He knew it wasn’t.

 

Max became rigid, his arms locked in a cross over his aching chest. His nails dug into the surface of his skin as he forced his attention to what the engineer was going over. Carlos Sainz was not his friend and Carlos Sainz would not be his friend. Carlos Sainz with the flushed cheeks and long, curled eyelashes was his enemy standing in the way of his greatness. Carlos Sainz would ruin him if given the chance so Max would not give him that chance.

 

Perhaps Jos Verstappen really did have supernatural abilities. His hand was planted on Max’s shoulder as if to say ‘yes, finally… close the door on him, you don’t need him’ . That simple movement solidified Max’s train of thought. No matter how kind, no matter how soft, Max Verstappen would not let his teammate break him. This was his team, his chance, his path to a world championship. A boy with doe eyes and a shy smile would not rip this away from him.

 


 

Sitting in a Formula One car and sitting in the car you would call your Formula One car were two completely different feelings. Max felt like he was on top of the world and the car hadn’t even left the garage yet. The steering wheel with a million different buttons and a screen with data displays on it sat between his palms.

 

He sat with a helmet squeezing his face and his nose dramatically close to the visor while two mechanics made final adjustments before they sent him off. Max knew he had a big nose but it felt like nearly leaving a nose print on the polycarbonate was just rubbing salt in the wound. By no means was Max insecure, it just gets to a point sometimes.

 

A mechanic gave him a thumbs up after the covers were pulled from the tires and the car was lowered to the ground. Cold rubber screeched on the stone floors as the car pulled out from the garage and into pit lane. Pulling onto the asphalt of the track felt exhilarating even if it was just a formation lap to warm up the tires. The smile on his face would have bankrupt him of toothpaste if it had gotten any bigger. Pride and joy filled Max as he finally was within arms reach of all his dreams coming true.

 

Instructions to take it easy and get used to the car were given but a little voice in the back of Max’s head knew he wouldn’t be going that easy. The car lurched forward across the main straight as if it had come alive like an ancient sleeping dragon awoken once more. The engine roared impossibly loud as the acceleration was pressed. Suddenly, Max was completely in control. No one was there to breathe down his neck. It was just an empty race track and him in a car. After years of training, everything was starting to finally fall in place.

 

[ … ]

 

Max got out of the car just as quickly as he had gotten in. As he climbed out of the car and removed his helmet, mechanics laughed, patted him on the back, and gave him fist bumps. That huge smile was still stretched across his face and it even grew a little wider when his father, who had the shadow of a smirk on his face, gave him a nod of acknowledgement from over by the engineers’ station. Max stood out of the way of the mechanics as he balled up the balaclava and stuck that with his helmet and gloves into a cubby on the wall. Over the noise and frantic energy of the garage getting the car to where it needed to be, he saw something move out of the corner of his eye and turned to have a look …

 

Carlos was sitting in a folding chair outside of the garage. Max felt a jump in his chest when he saw him and faltered even more at the realization that Carlos must have been watching him fly around the track from that little black chair. He no longer wore the race suit pulled over his shoulders. The jacket hung by his waist and the white fireproofs were hugging Carlos’ arms dangerously well. He admired those dark curls and his soft yet strong jawline with a vague shadow of stubble from behind. From this angle he could see the downward droop of the tip of Carlos’ nose, his long eyelashes that curled upwards, and that part in his lips his resting face had- and- and- and- and Max was staring.

 

Max turned away, his cheeks getting hot as he flushed red. His eyes were glued to the ground and he awkwardly placed a hand on the back of his neck as he walked back deeper into the garage. He felt oddly nervous despite the heavy lifting of the day being done. Dark eyes watched him from behind as Carlos took note of Max after he had turned away, watching as mechanics and engineers praised and jostled him. He didn’t see it but Max could feel those eyes on him. The gaze felt observant and perhaps a little curious but being watched like that made him feel naked and exposed. The feeling only dissipated when Max retreated back to the engineers and his father outside direct line of sight from the maw of the garage.

 

Jos was exactly where Max had left him before; nearly glued to the station where engineers were, arms crossed over his chest, a serious expression, and talking about something likely related to him. Max didn’t interrupt, simply grabbing the plastic water bottom he had left and taking a seat on the wall. This part of the garage was less chaotic which he preferred at the moment. His mind was a mess from conflicting thoughts on his teammate and the adrenaline from driving what would be his very own race car for the first time. He wouldn’t admit it but he needed a hiding place from Carlos. If he looked into his eyes one more time, he knew his plan of malicious intent to secure a main team seat would be blown completely out of the water.

 

Max shifted uncomfortably at the increasingly noticeable trickle of staff into the room. There was going to be a debrief, plans for the future shared and whatnot, but Max had forgotten about that until it was evident that all these people stopping by weren’t a coincidence. Sainz Sr. and Jr. were one of the last few to enter the room causing air to get trapped in Max’s lungs. His palms only got increasingly more wet as Carlos (Jr.) sat next to him. Carlos smiled sweetly at him and all Max could muster was a quick half smile that likely did not look genuine.

 

Max turned his head opposite of Carlos and squeezed his eyes shut, deflating a bit into himself. Throughout the debrief, Max still wasn’t able to completely regain his composure. A few questions shot his way had been handled with painful awkwardness but he was able to prove that despite his weird mannerisms he is in fact present and not completely brain dead just yet. Max squirmed and shifted in his seat every few moments, earning himself more than a few looks from both his father and Carlos. A knot had developed in his stomach and breathing was becoming a task needed to be done with manual effort. Near the end of it, he was sure he could have filled a bucket with how much sweat was being produced from his palms. For what had been accomplished today, time seemed to slow and make this debrief drag on for far too long.

 

Max had fled the suffocating debrief meeting as soon as they said the meeting was done. The chair Max sat in made an obnoxious screech as he stood up, cringing as he awkwardly pushed it back in with minimal noise. His father had muttered something to him about needing to speak with someone and to wait outside for him. This plan was completely fine. He needed to put distance between him and Carlos before he completely dehydrated himself via sweating. Being around him was literally making it hard to breathe.

 

Apparently, Carlos had been in pursuit. As soon as Max thought he got away from it all, he felt a shiver go up his spine. He was half bent over looking in a cubby that had his bag stuffed into it half-hazardly when he saw someone move in his peripheral. Before he could look to see who it was, a hand laid firm in the center of his back and a pair of white and blue shoes were perpendicular to his. Brown eyes met his shocked blue eyes as his teammate bent to the side with a goofy smile on his face. Max hated how he stared at the little creases by his eyes and the smile lines that appeared when his smile got big.

 

“Hello again, teammate.” Carlos said in a tone sweet enough to make Max wonder how his teammate didn’t lose all his teeth to cavities… or if Max was truly starting to lose his mind and imagine things from behind a curtain of stress induced psychosis. Max opened his mouth to say something but hesitated until shutting his mouth again. It was embarrassing how quickly he had folded and lost all of his defenses to his teammate. Gripping his bag in one hand, he stood up fully and Carlos followed his motion to stand straight. Max had realized he was making an uncomfortable amount of silent, staring eye contact again. He put on a forced, awkward-looking smile, “Uh- Hi.” Max said, an involuntary quiver in his voice thanks to teenage hormones, “Um- You did good, yeah?” He asked his teammate, starting to feel his face flush with embarrassment over his own inability to act normal when standing face to face with what felt like torment in the shape of an angel.

 

“I did and you too.” Carlos said, his hand falling from Max’s back before it was planted on his hip. Max ignored the feeling of disappointment at the loss of contact between them. There was certainly no attachment already being fostered, that would be catastrophic… Yet Max continued to talk and entertain what Carlos was saying, “¡Cómo mola! ¿no? Pretty cool, right?” Carlos asked, knocking Max on the shoulder with his fist, “To be here- with these cars.” He clarified with a wave of his hand towards the Toro Rosso behind him.

 

Max felt a genuine smile grow on his face, “Yeah, of course. My dad always said I’d be a truck driver. I think- I think this is a huge step up from that.” He said, a chuckle blending into the latter half of his sentence. Something about Carlos shifted but Max couldn’t tell what it was. His smile wavered from a millisecond and he seemed to shift his weight as if something was wrong. Max couldn’t put his finger on it and chalked it up to the growing pit of nervousness in his stomach throwing off his perception.

 

“I think you will be overqualified for that job.” Carlos said with a soft smile, holding his hand out with a piece of torn paper in it, “So we can talk after.” He explained as Max took the paper, discovering a phone number was written on it. The numbers were neat and orderly, completely opposite from what Max could have done. It felt very Carlos though he still wasn’t sure exactly “what” Carlos was.

 

“To a good season?” Carlos asked, holding his hand out. Max took his hand in a shake, “Yeah, a good season!” He affirmed, momentarily forgetting about his future intentions. That handshake felt foreign but not wrong. Something in Max changed, like a flip on the switch. He felt Carlos and Carlos felt him on some sort of deeper level that wasn’t just skin on skin. It was like he was looking inside Carlos’ head, feeling that cool collectiveness of his steady mind. Max and Carlos looked at each other in shock. Carlos’ cheeks turned a shade darker and a glimmer of embarrassed joy was in his eye while Max could have sworn he physically felt the color drain from his own face. Max didn’t feel happy. He felt sick to his stomach. Carlos must have felt that overwhelming dread from Max as his expression dropped in a furrow. When Carlos yanked his hand back like he had been shocked by an outlet and Max felt his own heart shatter.

 

A stressed silence settled between the two of them for a moment, “Ah- I didn’t mean-” Carlos started but was cut off by Max, “I need to go.” Max said abruptly, turning on his heels and immediately speed walking away to find his father. He hears Carlos stutter and shuffle after him with a muffled goodbye. He felt the garage staff staring and giving him odd looks as he hightailed it away from his teammate with an expression like he had seen a ghost.

 

He composes himself back into that stony perfect-racer persona crafted maliciously by his father as he eventually found his way back into the perpetual gaze of his dad. Max didn’t make eye contact or even looked in Jos’ direction. He stared forward and with his arms crossed over his chest like his heart and lungs would tumble out if he moved them. Standing there he felt hurt that was his and hurt that wasn’t. His feelings were from his own self-hatred at the situation he was being placed in while he felt the confusion and worry from Carlos. Things had just got incredibly complicated and cars weren’t even racing on track yet. Max crumbled under the kindness of Carlos and he would further fall soft after… whatever that was.

 

Shortly after, Jos and Max left without another run-in with the Sainz. Words went unspoken between the two of them though it would have been impossible for his father to sense the tension within Max. The trek through the parking lot and the drive back to the hotel was painful. Max wanted to scream at whoever did this to him, beg to a higher power he had no faith in to make all of this go away. He felt desperate, vulnerable, and small. He had lost all control in this situation and the weight of the world felt like it had just descended upon him. That one handshake changed everything. Carlos was like a piece of forbidden fruit hanging on a tree in a lush orchard. Delicious and bright yet completely rotten on the inside.

 

Max’s innocence and naivety were shattered. The world was cruel and always found a way to twist situations into complex and inescapable webs. Carlos Sainz was no longer just a teammate, he was Max’s fate. He knew he couldn’t bring himself to such cruelty of throwing someone like that under the bus but Max couldn’t disobey his father. His father who had sacrificed everything for his career, his father who wanted everything and more for him, his father who wanted to see his son be a winner.

 

His ignorance on how the real world works has spoken. Things never come easy and Formula One was no exception. The season hadn’t even started and he was already being mentally tormented by himself. Realistically, his teammate had done nothing wrong but the influence of his father had turned Max’s thought process into paranoid over-analysis of everything. He wanted to rip his hair out and scream incoherently at the top of his lungs. He wants to run for the hills and leave this complicated mess he created in his head.

 

Just like his father had warned, his confidence had broken. No more than twenty full sentences had been exchanged by him and Carlos yet Max no longer had the strong sense of will to push through he had prior to today. His head was a mess and his opinion was changing rapidly. One moment he was going to single handedly take down his teammate and win a record in world championships and the next he was worthless being proven that this gamble Red Bull had on him wasn’t worth it as his teammate pulled further and further away in the hypothetical points.

 

The barebones of their relationship couldn’t gain any more sustenance. Even with just a few words exchanged, that had been too much. They were supposed to only be teammates and Max had the intention of breaking him completely. They had no emotional connection, Max barely knew the guy, but he found himself wondering if in the future Carlos could find it within himself to forgive Max for what he’ll do. The thought of destroying his soulmate was, ironically, soul crushing. The thought was unfathomable but the universe loved to play games. Why would the person perfect for him need to end up being his enemy?

 

And yes, Max did think that correctly; Enemy. Arrogance must have taken over because Max was now set in his plan. No risks would be taken forming any further relationship. He is a one man army who doesn’t need to be held back by the power of friendship and teamwork. Besides, he hadn’t seen if those dreaded soulmate marks were identical and there was a chance they weren’t. Perhaps it was wishful thinking feeling what he felt wasn’t real… Deep down he knew it was but he clung to that sliver that it was really all in his head like it was his lifeline.

 

Carlos was a man and so was Max. That wasn’t right. They weren’t soulmates. Carlos liked girls and so did Max. He had a girlfriend before and he enjoyed her company. Being soulmates with his teammate made his stomach turn and his head start to develop a dull aching pain. It wasn’t right. What Max felt was jealousy and nervousness about his future. He stared at him to gain insight, he spoke to learn more for his advantage. Max didn’t want to be friends with Carlos and he was never going to be friends with Carlos. Just the thought of insinuating he wanted to be friends or even more with him caused a lump to grow in his throat. Max Verstappen and Carlos Sainz Jr. were not friends nor soulmates and they would never be either.

 

Max had dissociated for so long he didn’t realize they arrived back at their  hotel until his father slammed the driver’s side door shut. They walked to their neighboring hotel rooms in silence until they were standing in front of their hotel rooms, “You did good today.” Jos said, making the hairs on Max’s neck stand, “But so did he. It will be a battle… Come out on top.” Max hesitated for a moment then nodded in acknowledgment.

 

The rest of the night is like Max’s consciousness was living separated from his body. He goes through the motions of getting ready to shut in for the night on autopilot. The thought of throwing out the paper Carlos had given him. Just thinking his name made Max sick, calling or texting was completely off the table but temptation was a nasty thing. A part of him tucked in the back of his head had become obsessed with the Spaniard despite their little time spent together. The idea of Carlos and him being intertwined forever was both terrifying and intoxicating. It gave him a glimmer of hope that Max could bend and break his teammate and have everything work out in the end… Everything always works out in the end. But that’s not what he wants, Max reminds himself. Enemies. Nothing more.

 

Laying in bed as he drifts off to sleep a brief memory of soft brown eyes staring at him, rosy cheeks matching the shade of plush lips, that silky-smooth accent greeting him in kindness, and a big, tanned paw-like hand gripping his rips him from the grasp of slumber. That night was rough and sleepless. The next time they would be meeting would be a week before the season starts in Milton Keynes. Dread and excitement poured through his veins. Max’s future depended on the failure of his teammate yet a small part of him, locked away somewhere deep and unreachable, wanted that kind young man to succeed alongside him.




Carlos Sainz. Number 55. The matador waving red.

 

Max Verstappen. Number 33. The stier ready to charge.

 

 

 

[ END OF CHAPTER ]