Chapter Text
Max entered the lockers, already focusing on the upcoming match. He looked across the room to see Leclerc doing his usual ritual. That's how the Dutch had the pleasure to witness the player walking on his hands across the room under Daniel's excessive encouragements as if the Monegasque doesn't do this circus before every match.
Max hoped the brown-haired won't break one of his arms. Maybe when he was a young immature teenager, he would be the happiest to known that his rival couldn't be competing for months but nowadays, as a young teenage immature captain, he would prefer that the team don't lose his second best player after Max.
Fortunately, he was an expert of the art of putting his hands on a not-washed since a month ground and having his head red like a tomato as a side-effect because he ended his little show without any problem. He could've just touch some wood like a normal person.
Horner banged on the door angrily as if he wasn't the why they were so late.
-"HURRY UP INSIDE. THE GAME IS GOING TO BEGIN", he screamed.
That was enough to make the late ones to move their ass quicker.
Max entered the pitch followed by the other players, all discussing relaxed as if the first match of the season wasn't going to start. He would like to reprimand them as the great captain he was supposed to be but he wasn't sure twenty players who for the most were older than him would listen.
He was the captain because of his on-field performances. A Daniel or even an Albon, both much more appreciated than him, could do a better job.
Either way, Horner shut them all by a simple annoyed gaze, like they were vulgar flies and not the best players of the academy. Well thinking of it, from Horner's perspective, they were all draft needing perfectionnement. Some become unreadable and then thrown away. Max just had the chance to be written by a man who didn't left any mistakes behind him. It was a chance because then Max would be nothing, he needed to remind himself that.
-"Max, engagement, Lawson, Albon, Hadjar and you over there", he said as he pointed someone from the team, "on the field, at your place"
He sent them away with a sudden aggressive move and the players followed by their goalkeeper, Carlos, entered the rink.
Max took his position, against the captain of the opposing team, an older taller guy with blond curly hair and wearing the green uniform of his team.
The whistle was blowed and Max took with agility the puck and speeded through the opposing goal. Hadjar came quickly to second him and he made a pass to the French who perfectly receive it and managed to open the score.
-"Well played", Max congrats him quickly before returning to the game.
After the first lining change, the score was frozen in 2-2 after some quick exchanges. Max had know better starts he thought as he sat on one of the benches. He took a sip of water, observing the coach next to him, boiling. Anyway, he was never in a good mood and he wasn't going to anger down because the new group leaded by Daniel wasn't going anywhere. It wasn't Danny's fault, more from his other teammates who had done two off sides and a penalty for the opposing team. The score after was 5-3.
After another line change, the score was at a 6-4 and the players were losing hope, already picturing the first defeat of the Ice Foxes.
That's why, when Horner put Max back on the field, he wanted to destroy everything especially the other team. They were already much more confident than them and that was understandable but seeing the annoyed face of his opponent in front of him as he would much rather be anywhere else than on the ice with him.
Max wanted to rip his jaded eyes out of his skull. He took the puck with aggressiveness, skating at a frenetic rhythm compared to the match's mood just before. His teammates couldn't keep up and an opponent took avantage of the fact that he couldn't make any pass to take back the puck.
Max felt a wave of violence rushing in him, a feeling way too powerful for a match already lost in everyone's mind. It was an hideous, gross feeling that only wanted to be lashed out on them so they can understand to never underestimate Max.
His moves were becoming sharper and his technic less correct. This feeling wasn't helping. It was overwhelming like an blinding jail of wrath. He was sloppy, making mistakes he could easily avoid and that made him more and more frustated.
One of his opponent took the puck. Max ran into him, sending him onto a wall.
A strange euphoria took over Max when he saw the terrified expression of the other player. Something he shouldn't have felt and washed away quickly when the referee whistled since the guy wasn't standing back up.
-"5 minutes penalty for player 33, Max Verstappen, and penalty for opposing team", he announced as he showed Max the penalty bench.
When he sat, face buried in his hands, Coach Horner arrived, mad.
-"What was that back there ?! Even a 5 years old kid would played better than this. i can assure you your father will hear about that"
Max tensed up, chills and dizziness going through his whole body. Without the adrenaline, he remembered his father, hidden in the shadows, watching his every step. The dutch was paranoic enough to look at the stands, fearing to see his father's face with a closed expression on his face to make the young teenager understand what an ugly waste of time, energy and money he was.
"If I knew, I would have invest in his sister, Maybe she has talent unlike you" "I don't know why I still annoy myself with you" "When you would be worthy to my son, I would already be dead" "incapable, you will finish on the streets with all my debts from my useless investment in you" "I only want perfection from you"
And Max failed to make only a good match even if good wasn't great enough for Jos Verstappen.
Max looked at the ground as Christian Horner went to coach the player still on the rink.
Nothing happened the right way for the team.
First, the others managed to score their penalty, a point that Max gently gave them.
Then, in his typical luck, Charles got injured by a player of the other team, sending him on the bench for the remaining of the game.
Finally, the score was 7-4.
Max stayed sit on a bench, alone. Not that anyone wanted to approach him. Only Daniel send him some sympathetic looks but Max ignored him completely.
He was disappointed of himself. He played so bad that he hardly headed to the lockers.
Inside, the mood was very low. Charles was extremely frustrated of the match's end. The Monegasque limped to his stuff.
-"They didn't gave a penalty for that", he complained loudly.
Carlos was dressing back silently, listening his friend's complains. The goalkeeper himself had a bad game. Even if he stopped half the shoots, it wasn't enough.
-"Penalty or not, it wouldn't have change the results. Let just admit we didn't played at our best level today", sighed Albon as he packed his backpack.
-"Yeah, more like one personne did really poorly", spitted one of the players, looking Max vehemently.
He looked back with the same gaze even if he knew he was totally right.
Most players went to see the junior's match, except Albon who managed to bring Carlos and Charles to see the skaters's competition. Max stayed sit, without moving.
His head was hurting him. His knuckles became white because he was tightening them against his knees. His body was heavy, so heavy it was painful. So heavy it was hard to breath. So heavy his tears were threatening to fall. Obviously he couldn't let them but they were still here.
-"Max ?"
Max stood up quickly, rubbing his red eyes.
-"Coach ?"
Hannah Schmitz was standing in the doorframe of the lockers, arms crossed and a worried expression on her face.
-"You can't be there..."
-"Only when you're all inside. But after, I must come pick up forgotten belongings. Do you seriously imagine Mr
Horner doing that ?"
Max laughed bitterly, still looking at his shoes. The assistante coach sat next to him.
-"You played well today Max. You know, emotions are important. It's a big strength but that can a double-edged knife. You're still young and in evolution. Mistakes are part of the journey. Don't listen to this idiot of Horner"
She put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Max nodded.
-"I'm going to see the junior's match", he finally said, "Thanks..."
Coach Schmitz gave him a last smile before picking up Daniel's jacket that he forgot in a corner.
Max get through the hallways, hands in his pockets. This center had three rinks, that was one more than the one from the academy.
Max wandered without knowing where the junior's match were. He landed in front of a first ice rink but Max understood soon enough that it was not hockey.
"Dreamer" by Laufey and skates's noises against the ice could be heard. His gaze was captivated by the silhouette who was skating right now.
George... obviously.
The Brit was gliding through the ice, stringing multiples jumps that Max wouldn't be able to difference.
His skates seemed to float above the ice in a way Max didn't knew possible.
Suddenly, the crowd gasped. Max didn't really know what happened but seeing the frown of Russell made it clear that he failed one of his elements.
The remainder of the choreography was a ghost of the beginning of itself, more electric than the song, creating a gap with the song. The elements were sharper, lacking this beauty that had hypnotised Max
When the program was finished, the skater exited the rink and sat back with the others from the academy;
The Dutch suddenly felt that they were much more alike than what he initially thought.
He continued his way, trying to forgot George's failed performance.
Finally, he arrived at the ice rink where the junior match had already begun since a long time ago.
-"Where were you ?" asked Daniel as Max took the empty seat next to the Australian.
-"What's the score", Max ignored him.
-"5-2 for the juniors"
-"Even them are better than us", he sighed.