Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Lewis truly loves this new chapter of his life: being a primary school teacher.
There was something deeply healing about teaching young children—guiding them through language, watching the spark in their eyes when they grasped something new.

But what he absolutely, wholeheartedly hated was saying goodbye to his beloved holidays. Truly.

When he decided to walk away from the world of Formula 1, he knew it wouldn’t be easy. His entire life had been dictated by the roar of engines, by adrenaline stitched into his very skin. Saying goodbye to that felt like cutting off a part of himself. Still, he understood that if he didn’t step away then, the cost would be far greater later on.

He didn’t like to dwell on the past or revisit how it had all ended. He preferred to hold on to the honest farewells, the final embraces, the moments that still glowed untarnished in his memory.

But at night, the nightmares came anyway.

Jos Verstappen.

A man selfish, arrogant, cruel to the core.
Their rivalry had started like any other normal, even expected in a sport like theirs. But it evolved into something else entirely.

Boundaries blurred until they disappeared.

It began with subtle jabs in the media about his driving style, then his appearance. Eventually, it became about his skin color.

Lewis never pinpointed the exact moment everything fell apart, when a professional rivalry became something personal, targeted, vicious.

He had loved the sport with every fiber of his being, but the way it all unraveled the slow, venomous shift, was the final reason he left.

Now, his life was quiet. Sometimes too quiet.

He lived in a spacious, modern apartment with Roscoe, his loyal companion, and every comfort money could buy.

At first, it had been harder than expected. Saying goodbye was one thing; reinventing himself was another entirely. He wandered aimlessly for weeks, unsure of what to do, or more precisely, who to be outside of racing.

In that silence, he found a truth he hadn’t expected: he loved children.

There was something profoundly honest about them. Maybe, he thought, he could teach them English. Show them that words were roads too.

When he discovered that a school in Monaco was looking for an English teacher, he didn’t hesitate to apply. And really, what school would turn down a three-time world champion as a teacher?

The hardest part had been keeping this new life hidden from the media. But with enough discretion, and a bit of luck, he managed.

The previous year, he had worked as a substitute teacher for a single semester, just to test the waters. But this year was different. This year would be his first full cycle as a permanent teacher, and though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, he was nervous. And excited.

He got out of bed reluctantly that morning and started getting ready.

"What kind of kids will I get this year?" he wondered, feeling a small spark of anticipation rise in his chest.

What he loved most about Monaco were the views: that delicate balance between rural calm and urban charm, between vibrancy and silence.

His school was a bit far from the city center, but luckily, he made it on time.
As he crossed the threshold of the building, he could already hear the chatter and laughter of children filling the hallways like a living melody.

Lewis considered himself a strict but passionate teacher. He didn’t want his students to just memorize, he wanted them to understand, to enjoy the process.
He knew how overwhelming learning a new language could be, and he wanted to be there to guide them with patience, with care.

When he entered his classroom, he found about fifteen children laughing and talking. Among all those round little faces, one stood out strangely familiar.
He couldn’t place it, so he let it go for the moment.

He cleared his throat.

—"Good morning, children," he said firmly.

Silence fell instantly. All eyes turned to him some wide with surprise, others frowning in confusion.

There had been rumors at the school about a famous figure joining the faculty, but no one really believed it, until now.

Among all those stunned faces, one stood out: blond hair, very blond, and piercing blue eyes full of admiration.

Lewis stared at him for a second longer.
He figured the boy knew who he was. Maybe a little fan.

—"I’ll be your teacher this year," he continued, "and I’ll also be teaching you English."

—"Are you famous?" asked one child.
The others nodded eagerly, wanting to know.

—"Yes... you could say that. But not anymore."

—"Why not anymore?"

—"Because that part of my life is over," he said with a tight smile, clearing his throat again.

—"Well, why don’t we all introduce ourselves? I’ll start: My name is Lewis Hamilton, I’m thirty-four years old, and I love animals."

At the mention of his name, a few kids gasped, others squinted, trying to place him among the famous faces they knew from TV or the internet.

—"Let’s go to the right. You," he said, pointing to the boy who was still staring at him.

The child, stood from his seat.

—"My name is Max Verstappen, I’m nine years old, and I like cars," he said in a raspy, calm voice.

Lewis’s smile faded—slowly, subtly.

—"Verstappen, you said?... As in Jos Verstappen?" he asked, doing his best to keep his tone neutral, though a hint of tension slipped through.

—"Yes, he’s my dad," Max replied, offering a hesitant smile.

Chapter Text

—Oh, yes, I know him —Lewis replied, trying not to sound too sharp.  —Well then, let’s move on with the list.

After that brief exchange, there was certainly a bitter taste left in his mouth.

It was nearly noon when Lewis sat resting in the teachers’ lounge. Looking back, he could say it had been a good day so far. Well, except for the occasional moments when he had to dodge a few kids eager to interview him.

He was reviewing some reports when someone knocked on the door:

—Come in. Who is it?

—It’s me. Max.

A small, now unmistakable head peeked in. And as he had said before: it had been a good day. 

Lewis cleared his throat, tense.

—Max, what are you doing here? You’re on recess. Please leave. 

—I know a lot of people have asked about your past career, but I really have a few questions —Max said, not even giving him time to respond before continuing—. You said you knew my dad, didn’t you?

Lewis nodded cautiously, tense for what felt like the thousandth time that day.

—And… how did you get along? I’ve always wanted to ask him, but he never gives me a clear answer.

There was a short silence, but then Max spoke again.

—I ask because I’ve always admir...

—Max —Lewis interrupted firmly—, my past isn’t something you need to worry about. And if your father hasn’t told you anything, there’s probably a reason for it. —Now, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this is my break. So please, go back to recess.

Maybe later he’d think he had been too harsh. But at that moment, he wasn’t thinking clearly. His mind was too busy pushing away memories he didn’t want to face again.

Max was being... stubborn.  Just like his father.

The boy looked down, stood still for a moment, and then muttered quietly:

—Sorry. I didn’t realize.

And without another word, he softly closed the door behind him.

Damn Verstappens, thought Lewis, letting out a long sigh as he covered his face with both hands.

He had believed he could ignore the boy. That his presence wouldn’t affect him.
But there was something about him that got under his skin.
 

A living remorse.

From that moment on, Lewis became a slightly stricter teacher, especially when Max was around. It wasn’t intentional, it was unconscious. The peace he had managed to build was beginning to blur.

And yet, Max kept looking at him with a slightly hidden admiration, unaware of the discomfort he was stirring in Lewis. He didn’t seem to notice how the atmosphere was slowly tightening, he was far more focused on the subject itself, because to be honest, he liked English.

You could say Max didn’t have a particular friend. Sure, he had classmates he talked to, kids he got along with, but when recess came, everyone scattered: some into irrelevant little activities, most straight to the football pitch. And of course, he would’ve loved to join them. Laugh, play, spend time with people he could gradually call friends.

But there was one problem: he didn’t know how to play, and going up to ask if they could teach him… wasn’t an option. He was terrified they’d mock him.
“You don’t know how to play? Everyone knows how”

If there was one thing Max couldn’t stand, it was not being in control of a situation, not understanding it, not being able to master it.

So he chose to sit and watch from a distance.

The last class of the day was English. Max would’ve been more excited if he’d gotten better sleep the night before, but his father hadn’t been pleased with his karting performance and forced him to keep practicing late into the night. And since Jos was in a bad mood, he took away Max’s lion plushie, saying he didn’t deserve it.

That’s mostly why he couldn’t fall asleep. The rest was the exhaustion he carried from the intense training session.

So now he sat there, arms crossed on the desk, trying hard to keep his head up.
But he was so, so tired…  he didn’t even notice the moment his eyes closed and his head dropped into his arms.

And it was such a peaceful sleep...
until a shout ripped it away.

—Verstappen!

Max shot up, startled.

—What do you think you’re doing? Do you find this class so uninteresting that you’re just going to act like this?

He blinked, confused, struggling to catch up.

—No, sir, it’s not that. I just...

—Just what? Disrespecting me in my own classroom? You know I won’t tolerate that kind of behavior. Since you’re not paying attention, please step outside.

Lewis wasn’t shouting, he spoke with total calm, but with a tone so firm, so authoritative, that no one in the room even had the expression of wanting to disagree.

Max, still groggy and a little dazed, stood up quietly and left the room.

He didn’t know where to go, so he just sat down on the ground outside the classroom door, leaning against the wall. He tried to find a comfortable position and drift back to sleep, anything not to think about what had just happened.

—And for the rest of the class —Lewis added, sweeping the room with his gaze— I won’t allow this kind of attitude. Is that clear?

—Yes, sir —they all answered in unison.

It was the first time Lewis —or rather, Mr. Hamilton — had acted that sternly. No one had seen him like that before.

And maybe, for Max, that was the first sign of what was coming, even if he didn’t dwell on it too much.

After all,
He was only nine years old.
And already had a father who demanded too much.
He couldn’t afford to worry about anything else.

Chapter Text

Today was supposed to be P.E. class and, according to the teacher in charge, they were going to play football. But that teacher was absent. So, Lewis had to take over.

Max, on the other hand, didn’t remember. He’d spent the weekend at a karting championship. He’d done well, but not well enough,  at least not according to his father. Apparently, he’d made too many mistakes, and only got lucky when his main rival, Charles, who had been leading the race, crashed and gave up the position.

That’s why, that morning, he completely forgot to bring sportswear. Instead, he showed up to school in his favorite jeans and a simple T-shirt.

“Alright, children,” Lewis announced, “remember that today, during fourth period, I’ll be in charge of your P.E. class. Professor Fiori had to excuse himself. So, I’ll be taking over. Understood?”

“Yes, Mr Hamilton,” they all replied in unison.

Max answered in a slightly more enthusiastic tone. You could even say he was excited. Maybe, finally, he’d learn how to play football. Maybe they would include him, maybe he’d make friends. No one would make fun of him this time, as he feared so often, maybe they’d even invite him to play.

“Moving on,” said Lewis with a sigh, “who did the English homework? Raise your hands.”

The truth was, lately, things hadn’t been easy. He’d spent days overthinking everything, mentally drained. Maybe he was being paranoid, but he was certain Max had already told his father about the current situation. Who knows…  What if Jos had already laughed at him? What if he’d told the kid something about the past, mocking him? What if Max believed him? What if they’d already laughed about it together? What if Jos had leaked something to the press? What if Max hated him?

All of it was exhausting. And he didn’t know how to stop his mind from spiraling.

“sir, I have a question.”

Lewis searched for the source of the voice. Of course. It couldn’t be anyone else.

“Alright, come here,” he said with another sigh — the tenth of the day.

Max walked up with his notebook in hand.

“It’s just... I don’t understand the difference between were and where ,” he said, pointing to a line in his homework. The page was covered in small doodles. There was a helmet, and a scribbled Spider-Man off to the side.

Most people would probably find it adorable. Lewis did not.

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing at the doodle.

“Oh, that’s my helmet,” Max replied with a very small smile. “I use it for karting, sir. It has a Spider-Man on the top. That was my idea,” he added.

“Verstappen,” said Lewis, now with a serious tone, “if you paid more attention in class, you’d know the difference between these two words. But no, you’re too busy doodling.”

Max’s small smile faded.

“And since this is something you should already know, I can’t help you. It’s your responsibility.”

“But—”

“No buts. Please, go sit down. We need to continue with the lesson. And I hope you start paying more attention.”

Max nodded without saying anything and went back to his seat. He stared at his notebook for a moment, silently, until he picked up his eraser and began carefully rubbing out each of the drawings.

Despite that small incident, Max was still excited for football. So when the bell rang, he was the first to run out to the field. The group had already gathered by the time Lewis arrived.

“Alright kids, I’m going to take attendance. Raise your hand when I call your name: Gasly, Russell, Verstappen…”

Max raised his hand enthusiastically. Lewis glanced at him sideways.

“Verstappen, did you bring clothes to change into?”

Max shook his head, confused.

“No, why?”

“You’re wearing jeans. You can’t play like that.”

He looked down, puzzled. Only then did he notice the obvious.

“But sir, I can still play. I don’t mind,” he said in a soft, almost pleading tone.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t let you play like that. You knew you had to bring sportswear. Go sit down.”

Max looked at him for a few seconds more, waiting for a different response, some kind of solution. But he found nothing. He sighed, lowered his gaze, furrowed his brow just slightly, and slowly walked to the edge of the field. He sat on the grass, knees drawn up to his chest, hugging his legs.

And from there, he looked again. Watching the others play, laugh, share moments. Wishing he could be one of them.

He watched with longing, with a silent kind of yearning that tightened something inside him.

He would have cried,  if it weren’t for the fact that his father always said men don’t cry. That crying is for the weak.

But right then, he felt a little more fragile than usual.

A silent tear rolled down his cheek.

Lewis, from afar, watched him. And for the first time in many days, he thought that maybe — just maybe — he was being too hard on Max. He’d been acting out of character for days now. He was losing his balance, and he knew it.

Maybe he needed to talk to someone. To ask for a second perspective. Someone who could advise him before he made a mistake he wouldn’t be able to take back.

Chapter Text

We know how the story between Lewis and Nico ended, and in which years it happened. However, to fit the details of this story, in this timeline Nico and Lewis were rivals during the 2000s. Lewis won the championship in 2001, 2002, 2003, and 2004. In 2005, the biggest conflict with Jos happened, marking his last season.

His relationship with Nico started to get tense in 2003, and over time, they went from being close to just acquaintances—not friends; an awkward distance, but not as extreme as it is now, where they practically ignore each other.

I know that in reality Jos retired in 2003, but here I adjusted the timeline. This allows the real ages of Jos and Max to match, as well as the number of championships I said Lewis won. The rest of the events have also been adapted.

With that said, let’s start the story.

To be honest, he didn’t want to do it. Really, he didn’t. But he knew he needed help.

In the past few days, he had been restless, almost paranoid, ever since Max’s presence in his classes seemed to unsettle him more than he wanted to admit. He took advantage of the weekend to think about everything that was going on: his mood, his attitude, his peace… everything felt off. And the worst part was that it was getting harder to hide it.

Deep down, he knew he was overreacting. God, he had barely managed to get through that P.E. class after the incident with Max because something in his chest had tightened painfully.

He lived stressed, even paranoid.

That’s why he was there, standing for half an hour, phone in hand, staring at a contact: a number so close and yet so distant. He couldn’t take his eyes off the screen, but he also didn’t find the courage to press call.

“Come on, Lewis, what’s wrong with you?” he told himself before letting out a sigh and hitting the button.
“Please don’t answer… ignore me, ignore me,” he repeated in his head.

—Hello? Lewis, is that you?

No.

—Yes… hi, Nico. I know it’s been a while —he sighed.

—It really has. I’d like to ask how you’ve been and what you’ve been up to, but if you’re calling me out of the blue, I suppose something more urgent is going on. Tell me, what do you need?

He sounded sleepy, probably because it was midnight. Lewis stayed silent longer than he wanted; the words wouldn’t come. Finally, trying to form a sentence, he said:

—I think I need you.

The line went silent, so Lewis continued:

—I’m going through something, and I think it would really help to get advice from someone who knows me. It has to do with Jos. Do you think I could come see you tomorrow? Are you already in France? With the Grand Prix coming up…

—Yes, that’s right. Sounds pretty urgent.

—It is… I really don’t know what to do —he tried to laugh, unsuccessfully.

Another silence filled the line for a few seconds.

—Well, then it’s better if we talk calmly… —pause— I guess you still like strong coffee.

—More than ever.

—Perfect, we’ll sort it out tomorrow.

—Goodbye, Nico.

—Goodbye.

Lewis had no idea what had just happened, but at least he felt some relief. Maybe, finally, he’d be a little closer to finding a solution to his worries.

He barely got any sleep that night. The truth was, he felt a little lighter, not because he’d solved his problem, but because he’d spoken to Nico. Since retiring from Formula 1, he had decided to cut off all contact, even with him. What had once been a close friendship had shrunk into a distant, almost indifferent relationship, as if the past they shared no longer mattered. It wasn’t what he would have wanted, and it always felt incomplete, a relationship left halfway. Maybe that’s why he now felt a slight ease in taking the step, though it came with an uncomfortable weight he couldn’t hide.

Nico had always been good at giving advice, and Lewis didn’t doubt that he would be able to help him with his little big problem.

With that in mind, he got dressed and prepared to leave. He had a several-hour trip to France ahead, and if he wanted to arrive early, he had to leave as soon as possible. He put on the first clothes he found and headed to the neighboring country. He sent Nico a message, letting him know he’d be there in about an hour.

During the trip, he reflected on the past, on how things had ended with the person who used to be his best friend, the closest person he had ever had. Their friendship had cracked when they started treating each other like enemies instead of rivals, putting selfish interests above trust. There came a point where they could no longer feel comfortable around each other. Lewis would be lying if he said he didn’t miss him, or if he denied regretting some of his own actions. Maybe this visit had another hidden purpose: trying to mend an abandoned friendship. Not to go back to what once was—because that was impossible—but to start over.

The trip turned out more pleasant than expected, and before he knew it, he was in front of the hotel Nico had mentioned.

“I’m here,” he texted.
“I’ll be down in a minute.”

He settled in the lobby, in a chair that felt like the most comfortable in the world. God, he needed to know the brand.

—Hi, Lewis. Long time no see —that voice.

Lewis stood immediately. Turning, he saw him there, the man he had once known so well, with that smile unchanged by the years.

—Nico —he responded, a mix of relief and nervousness in his tone—. It’s good to see you again.

They shared a half-hug, awkward but warm.

—Likewise —Nico replied, still smiling, as if time hadn’t passed—. We have a lot to talk about. I know a nice, quiet place for lunch, where no one will recognize us. It’s about forty minutes away by car, and it’s already one-thirty —he said, checking his watch—.

—Sounds good. That way, we can catch up on the way.

—Perfect, let’s go.

—So, how have you been? How’s the season been?— Lewis asked, trying to break the silence that had settled after getting into the car.

—Good, honestly, races have been easier to win since you left —Nico joked—. There are times when the car and I don’t quite get along, but it’s been a good season… What about you? How’s Roscoe?

—You know how he is, still just as active despite all the years —Lewis smiled—. Well, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about what to do with my life, honestly. Formula 1 has been my entire world from day one, and without it, it was hard to decide what to do. I spent a long time thinking in my apartment, until I realized what I could dedicate myself to. Nobody knows this, and I don’t want it to get out, but I’m teaching at a school in Monaco, a bit away from the center.

—Really? I never would have expected such a change —Nico laughed, surprised.

—Neither did I, but it’s something I’m passionate about and plan to keep doing. Please, don’t tell anyone.

Nico made a gesture with his hand, as if sealing his lips.

—I won’t tell anyone —Lewis said as Nico parked the car. They had arrived.

—Does this table look okay? —Nico asked.

Lewis nodded, and they sat down.

—Well, I’m glad you’re happy with what you’re doing now —Nico said.

When he mentioned “happy,” Lewis lowered his gaze slightly and leaned back in his chair.

—Wow, you’re content, right?

—No, no… I am, it’s just that lately it’s harder to stay calm. That’s why I wanted to ask for advice. I needed to tell someone about this —Lewis sighed, and Nico waited silently for him to continue.

—I like kids, I enjoy teaching them. Yes, I can be a bit strict, but it’s never affected my relationship with them. But this year I got… Jos’s son —he exhaled forcefully.

—Wait… you have Max Verstappen as a student? —Nico asked, surprised.

—Yes… At first, I tried not to let it bother me, but it’s getting harder, I feel tense, and it’s like I can’t control my mood. You know how much Jos hurt me, and seeing Max every day just brings back those memories, clouds my mind.

—God, Lewis… I didn’t think it was this complicated —Nico looked shocked for a few seconds.

—Yeah. I’m getting more paranoid. I think Max has already told Jos about me, that he tells him how I’m doing. Those thoughts are what make me uneasy.

—Well… I can’t imagine what you must be feeling. Having those ideas constantly must be exhausting. I’m glad, at least, that you’ve managed to keep your cool with Max and are still holding it together.

Lewis looked at him, worried.

—Lewis… you’ve kept yourself in check with him, right? —Nico asked, serious.

—I mean, I don’t think I’ve gone too far, but there have been moments I regretted later —Lewis confessed.

The German stayed silent, encouraging him to continue.

—For example, the time he fell asleep in class really upset me. Or when he filled his notebook with doodles and still had the nerve to ask about something I’d already taught. Or the time I didn’t let him play soccer because he wore jeans instead of sports clothes, which was logical.

—Every time something like that happens, I feel this huge pressure in my chest… but that kid sometimes… aghh, I don’t know —Lewis was rambling.

—Okay, stop, you’re getting worked up —Nico stopped him—. How old is he?

—I think about nine.

—Nine… and what exactly does he do to annoy you, Lewis?

—It’s just his presence, his attitude —Lewis ran his hands through his hair, exhaling heavily.

—Has he ever been disrespectful? Yelled at you? Ignored you? Rebellious? What exactly?

—…Nothing… —he was speechless, trying to find the words.

—Because from all the stuff you told me —Nico joked— you only mentioned normal kid behavior.

—He forgets things.

—And you don’t?

—Sometimes he stares too much.

—Maybe because you literally were an F1 driver.

—Exactly why I think his dad must have told him things about me.

—And how does he look at you?

—What?

—I mean, what’s that look? Angry?

—No, not at all.

—Mocking?

—Nope…

—Then how? —Nico insisted.

—Surprised… it’s not bad, but I don’t know if it’s good.

—Maybe because you were such an admired driver, like many kids at your school, he looks up to you. Haven’t you thought about that?

—No… —he said, baffled—. Never crossed my mind.

—Man —Nico paused for a few seconds—. I get everything about Jos, god, I was there, I know how hard it was. But you’re taking it out on a kid who has nothing to do with it, just because of the last name. From everything you’ve told me, there’s nothing wrong.

—You’re letting paranoia consume you, but you have to stop and look at the bigger picture. And yes, you’ve hurt Max, a hurt he doesn’t deserve. Also, who says Jos and Max are as close as you think? If you saw how he acts in front of cameras, with everyone watching… imagine what he’s capable of when no one’s looking. I might be overstepping, but you can’t make decisions based on thoughts that might not even be real.

—Nico… what have I been doing? —Lewis rested his arms on the table, crossing them. —I’m an idiot.

—Yes, you’re an idiot —he laughed softly, putting an arm around him—. But at least you realize it now.

They kept talking for a couple of hours about what Lewis could do, about their lives, and other things, until the rain forced them back to the car.

—Thanks for everything —Lewis said, smiling—. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t opened my eyes.

—Don’t mention it. I’m glad we found each other again —Nico replied, looking at him.

A peaceful silence formed in the car as the sound of light rain complemented the comforting atmosphere. Night had already fallen.

—What are your plans? Heading back to Monaco now? —Nico asked.

—I don’t know, I haven’t really thought about it —Lewis replied, thoughtful.

Suddenly, a figure appeared on the road. It wasn’t an adult.

—Wait, Nico, slow down. Looks like someone’s walking.

—At this hour? —Nico hesitated.

Lewis got a better look. It was a child, wearing a helmet. Walking slowly, unsure if he was on the right path. He was only wearing a racing suit, which seemed very strange.

—It’s a kid, slow down, slow down —Lewis rolled down the window—. Hey, hi, what are you doing walking alone in this rain?

The child, a bit cautious, lifted his visor. This time, Lewis recognized those eyes immediately.

—Max?

Chapter Text

Max had gotten up at six that Sunday morning, even though the race didn’t start until three. He knew they had to get ready soon to leave for France, but exhaustion weighed down every muscle.

The week had been exhausting, almost unreal. He had spent too much time lost in his own thoughts, trying to understand everything that had happened with Lewis, and no matter how much he analyzed it, he couldn’t find an answer. He didn’t remember doing anything that could have caused such a sudden change in him. Maybe it had been his way of being, his slightly rough character, that Lewis had interpreted as rudeness.

But… was that really it?

His head hurt from overthinking, and yet he kept doing it.

Deep down, Max didn’t want to be at odds with his… hero. Something he had never told anyone. Well, almost never. There had been a moment when he was about to tell Lewis, but he stopped him before he could say it.

If his father ever found out that he admires him…

Max wasn’t stupid; he knew something had happened between them. He had realized it that day when, without thinking, he had let his name slip. The reaction of Jos had been so extreme, so full of anger, that he immediately understood he must never repeat it.

The truth was, his situation with Lewis hadn’t escalated that much until the football incident, last Friday.

Over time, Max had learned to suppress his emotions, to not let any sign of vulnerability reach him, and yet, Lewis was the first person after his father who had made him cry. Well, it wasn’t crying exactly, but the tears that fell counted.

With zero energy left, he forced himself to get up, leaving behind his little lion and his little kangaroo, his two favorite stuffed animals. For a moment, he considered taking one of them— but which one? In the end, he chose the kangaroo, easier to hide in his backpack.

He put on his sports clothes and left his room.

—Nice timing getting up, Max —his father said, ironically.
—Sorry.
—Are you ready to go?

Max nodded. He helped Jos get things ready and prepared his own kart to leave quickly.

The drive to France passed in the usual silence; there wasn’t much to talk about. The occasional words from Jos were in general corrections: one mistake here, one mistake there. Anything could become a point of confrontation, so Max always preferred to stay quiet.

He had learned to observe: the landscape, the cars ahead and behind, the people driving them; their movements, actions, and reactions could give clues about what might happen. And it was certainly useful when racing.

After half an hour, Jos finally spoke:

—You know what to do this weekend, son. I don’t want to see you fail. Your biggest rival could be Leclerc, don’t let him beat you.
—I won’t —Max replied.

Fortunately, they were the first to arrive at the track, so they could make the most of practice time.

Not even fifteen minutes had passed, and Jos was already assembling his kart while Max put on his racing suit.

—Here, eat while you watch the track —his father said, handing him a ham and tomato sandwich.

Max watched the circuit for a few moments, but his thoughts quickly drifted back to his clash with Lewis. He really didn’t understand what he could have done wrong. He imagined scenarios where he tried to make up for his mistake, and others where he confronted his coach in anger. He had so many conflicting feelings and didn’t know what to do with them; he couldn’t control them.

The only thing that distracted him for a moment was looking at his new customized helmet with a Spider-Man image in the center. It had taken him a while to convince his father, but he had succeeded, and he was very proud. Spider-Man had always been his favorite superhero: cool, daring, agile. he best of all.

—Max, are you done?
—Yes —he replied, moving closer to his father.
—Good, it’s time for you to do some laps and test the kart setup, okay?

Max nodded and quickly put on his helmet.

The weather was partly cloudy, but it didn’t seem like it would rain.

He loved the feeling of speed when driving, the adrenaline coursing through every cell in his body, his excitement guiding him. Even though the consequences of losing were sometimes… inconvenient, the feeling of winning overpowered everything.

He didn’t know how many laps he had done, but he felt he had been fast.

—Very good, Max, one minute twenty. New record —his father said, smiling with satisfaction.
—Yes! —Max cheered.
—But don’t get too excited; we still have to test other modes of the car.

The morning passed with tests and studying the track; a little boring, but necessary. A lot of people had already arrived, including young drivers his age who sometimes invited him to play football, but Max always said no, even though he would have loved to go. If he had gone wearing sports pants on Friday, Lewis would have let him join, he would have learned to play, and could have accepted invitations without seeming like a weird antisocial kid who rejects a football game.

He recognized a few familiar faces: Lando Norris, Esteban Ocon, and… Charles Leclerc.

It could be said that he got along with Charles, a good relationship between rivals. He was fast and bold, not afraid of risk, just like Max.

Whenever there was a competition, he saw Charles’ whole family cheering in the stands, which was strange for him, as everyone smiled and encouraged him even in tenth place. But what puzzled him most was that, even if Charles lost, his father would greet him with a smile and open arms. Why? He still didn’t understand. He once overheard his father say they would go get ice cream after finishing seventh. That had lingered in his mind for a while. If Max finished off the podium, his father wouldn’t speak to him the whole way home, and that was the mildest punishment.

Maybe that’s why he didn’t get too close to Leclerc, because he got under his skin; he couldn’t understand him. That, and the fact that his father hated him, would never allow him to get close, although he couldn’t stop Charles from coming over to invite him to play.

—Max, come here, let’s go over your strategy before the race starts.

The race started well, Max gaining positions until he ended up in first place, holding it for thirteen laps. However, he saw Charles closing in, reaching second place on lap fifteen. He had tried several times to attack the Dutchman to take first, but Max didn’t let him, and after defending so much, his tires were getting worn.

One lap to go when suddenly he didn’t see how Leclerc cut to his right side, coming alongside him.

“You know what to do this weekend, son, I don’t want to see you fail.”

His father’s words froze his mind. He couldn’t let Charles beat him.

In a sharp move, Max tried to push his rival back and succeeded… but it didn’t take long before Charles recovered and attacked, causing a collision.

“No, no, no. This shouldn’t be happening.”

Among the debris and dirt, Max saw the other competitors moving toward the finish line, without him. He turned toward the other driver.

—What’s wrong with you?! You made us go off the track!
—I wasn’t my fault! You made the aggressive move first! —Charles replied, equally angry.
—Yes, but it didn’t make us go out of the race! —what an idiot.

Max would have kept arguing, but he felt furious eyes on him. He cautiously turned to face his father.

All his confrontation with Leclerc was forgotten, Jos had said it all without a word.

He lowered his head slightly and walked toward the paddock, ignoring his rival, who kept shouting at him.

Jos made him watch the award ceremony and then left him alone, storing the kart while he waited in his truck.

The drive back was anything but peaceful.

Playing with his helmet in his hands, Max desperately thought of different ways to apologize, different scenarios, and none were good enough.

—Dad, I’m really sorry. I never wanted this to happen, I never thought it would, I—
—Silence, Max. It’s useless to apologize pathetically. You failed like never before, it’s unbelievable —Jos interrupted, cold and intimidating.

Max fell silent again, unsatisfied with his apology attempt.

—Let me explain, I had it all planned, and—
—Shut the hell up! —he turned to him—. Do you really think I’ll buy that pathetic excuse? You weren’t good enough against Leclerc, thanks to your stupid maneuver—
—He was the one who made the stupid move! —Max interrupted and immediately regretted raising his voice.

Jos stayed in a loud silence, staring ahead. Suddenly, the truck braked sharply, and Max was thrown forward.

—Out. Now.

The little boy just looked at him, stunned, unable to believe this was really happening.

—Do you want me to repeat myself? —His father turned, furious, and Max unbuckled his seatbelt and quickly got out. He clutched his helmet tightly and waited for the next move, but all he saw was Jos pressing the pedal, leaving him alone in the middle of nowhere.

Max couldn’t say how long he stayed in the same spot, waiting for his father to come back and tell him his punishment was over. Maybe thirty minutes, forty-five, an hour. Who knows.

He feared that if he started walking, his father might come back and not find him. But later, at sunset, he realized that he probably wouldn’t come back for him anytime soon.

Walking, he began to reflect, for the thousandth time, on everything that had happened that week: Lewis, his dad, the race, Charles… Damn Charles, who was probably at a restaurant eating ice cream and not lost in the middle of a road.

Ice cream… It would be nice to have some now, even if it was a bit cold. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he thought about it.

Suddenly, he felt a few drops that quickly turned into rain… as if this day couldn’t get any worse.

He thanked his past self for bringing his helmet and put it on immediately. At least the rain wouldn’t bother him. Maybe that was the only good thing about the week.

Many cars passed by without paying attention to him, so he didn’t even look when one approached until it slowed down. A little wary, Max turned and lifted his visor to see what was happening. It took him a moment to identify who had rolled down the window to speak to him, but it didn’t take long.

—Max?

Chapter Text

—Max?—

The boy froze, even more confused. Of all the things that could happen to him…
—Mr Hamilton?— he asked, standing under the rain, trying to wipe the soaked visor of his helmet with his hand.
—What are you doing here alone, in France?— Lewis looked equally bewildered, but common sense quickly took over—. Come on, get in!

He stepped out of the car and opened the door for him. Max remained still for a few more seconds, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

The situation was strange. His teacher, the one who sometimes seemed to dislike him, was right there in front of him—and he was completely drenched. Yet, despite it all, Max thought he would much rather have this encounter than go back with his father. He stepped inside quickly.
—Uh… yes, yes, thank you— he murmured softly before entering.

Once seated, without his helmet, the seatbelt loosely fastened, and his body still curled slightly, he looked up at the driver. He was completely puzzled.
—Nico… Nico Rosberg?— he whispered. Thankfully, the car was silent; otherwise, nobody might have heard him.
—Hello, little one— he smiled, though worry was evident on his face—. How about we head to my hotel, grab something warm to eat, and get you some dry clothes?

Max just nodded quietly, secretly grateful. He had many doubts—thousands, really—but what mattered most right now was getting to that precious hotel.

Lewis, meanwhile, bit his nails anxiously. What would have happened if he hadn’t seen him? A child alone, in another country, lost and frozen. And even worse, what could have happened to leave Max in such a state? Did it have something to do with Jos? No, a father could never do such a thing.

Then… how had he ended up here?
He remembered how soaked he was and how cold he must feel.

—Max, here, put this on so you won’t be cold, we’re almost there— Lewis offered his jacket with a faint smile, and the boy took it, murmuring a barely audible thank you.

The jacket was the most comfortable thing in the world. Or maybe it only felt that way because he was drenched and chilled to the bone. Either way, he didn’t care as he slowly began to drift off, without intending to.

—He’s asleep already— Nico finally spoke, looking worried. Lewis returned the same expression—. So this is the famous Max Verstappen. Any idea why he was out here alone?
—I haven’t the slightest idea, and it terrifies me. If he was on an abandoned road in the rain, probably no one would come looking. Most likely someone left him there. No child just wanders onto a road at night— he thought.
—And did you see how he was dressed? Helmet and racing suit. Maybe he came from a race, I don’t know— added Nico.
—Maybe… All I know is I can’t leave him alone— Lewis said, glancing at the boy through the rearview mirror.

—Max, Max, wake up, we’ve reached the hotel—
Max felt a hand move his shoulder, but he was too groggy to know whose it was, only remembering the argument with his father.

That’s why he jolted awake, sitting up quickly.

—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you— Lewis pulled his hand back immediately, his expression tinged with regret.
—Sorry for reacting like that— Max said, rubbing his sleepy eye, still holding his helmet.
—No need to apologize— Lewis offered a smile—. Come on, let’s get something to eat.

They entered the hotel and then a nice, elegant restaurant. Max was almost embarrassed to be soaked to the bone, wearing a jacket far too big for him. The three of them sat at a more secluded table.
—Why don’t you take a look at the menu, Max? Pick whatever you want, you must be hungry— Nico said kindly.

Max just nodded, looking down at the menu.
Lewis and Nico noticed how uncomfortable he seemed and exchanged a brief glance. It wasn’t easy for a child to feel at ease in this situation.

—You know, Lewis, I’ll have these fries as an appetizer, they look delicious. Honestly, I’m still hungry. Oh, and a strawberry juice too— Nico smiled.
—Yeah, me too. I’ll take these nuggets with sauce to share and a drink— Lewis replied—. And you, Max? What will you have?—
—Uh, I like tomato soup, if that’s okay— Max said hungrily. The moment he saw tomato soup on the menu, his stomach growled even louder.
—Of course. Let’s call the waitress—
—While we wait for the food, Lewis, you should go with Max to change out of his wet clothes— Nico suggested—. Here’s my room key.
—Good idea, let’s go, Max. Better get those wet clothes off

As they walked out of the restaurant, Lewis glanced at Nico, who made a strange face, yet somehow he understood what he meant: “Talk to him.”

After asking the receptionist for a set of pajamas and some towels, they were able to go up to the room.
—Go change in the bathroom. Then give me your wet racing suit so I can dry it— Lewis smiled.
—Okay.

Max took the moment alone in the bathroom to process what was happening: he had been abandoned by his father, and picked up by Lewis, the former driver who was now his apathetic teacher, and who was strangely accompanied by Nico Rosberg. Another driver.

He didn’t know what would happen next, but at least he was grateful to be safe. So he came out more relaxed.
—Here— Max handed over his clothes and helmet. Lewis took them, staring at the Spider-Man image.

“sir, I have a question.”

Lewis searched for the source of the voice. Of course. It couldn’t be anyone else.

“Alright, come here,” he said with another sigh — the tenth of the day.

Max walked up with his notebook in hand.

“It’s just... I don’t understand the difference between were and where ,” he said, pointing to a line in his homework. The page was covered in small doodles. There was a helmet, and a scribbled Spider-Man off to the side.

Most people would probably find it adorable. Lewis did not.

“What’s that?” 

“Oh, that’s my helmet,” Max replied with a very small smile. “I use it for karting, sir. It has a Spider-Man on the top. That was my idea,” he added.

“Verstappen,” said Lewis, now with a serious tone, “if you paid more attention in class, you’d know the difference between these two words. But no, you’re too busy doodling.”

Max’s small smile faded.

Lewis remembered that day with regret; the way he treated Max wasn’t exactly right, and now he was realizing just how harsh he had been. He sighed and continued observing the helmet for a few more seconds.

—Spider-Man is your favorite superhero?
—Yes… — Max scratched his head nervously—. He’s the best of all.
—And what about Ironman? He’s good too— Lewis teased.
—Not as good as Spider-Man. He’s the most agile, and also the coolest— he smiled, perhaps for the first time that day.
—Well, I can’t argue with that.

The older man sat on the bed with a sigh.
—Hey, Max… I know you probably had a rough day, but I need you to tell me what happened this afternoon. Take all the time you need,I can wait until you’re ready —Lewis said, trying to sound as light as possible, even knowing the topic wouldn’t be easy.
—I… it’s just that… — Max sighed, unable to put it into words. He played with his hands nervously and avoided looking up.

It was eight in the evening, and the day still wasn’t over. He had already been through everything: travel, good moments, the race, bad moments, arguments, more arguments, storm, and a bit of calm. It was very hard for him to put it all into words, even harder to understand it. He didn’t know what emotions he should feel, how to express them, or how to move forward. Evidently, what happened with his father left him shocked. God, he felt like crying. But he felt an even stronger need to overcome it and accept that, deep down, what had happened was his fault.

From outside, Lewis could see him frowning, his mind pieces clicking together as he tried to find the best answer. Finally, he managed to let out a few words.
—This morning I had a karting race.

Lewis looked at him patiently, giving him space to continue.
—The day had started really well. My father and I did some tests before the race and they went well. Even during the race, everything was going fine—I was in first place—but on the last lap I fought too much with my rival and we went off the track. We didn’t cross the finish line and lost our positions. Of course my father got angry, and rightly so. I messed up. I tried to explain in the car what happened, a bit hurriedly, and that only made him angrier. I… feared what would happen, I’m not stupid. But… I didn’t imagine it would go this far. That… he would kick me out of the car.

Max just fiddled with his hands, refusing to lift his gaze or expose more of what he felt. Still, in his words, it was possible to sense that he was trying to find solutions to the doubts and uncertainties surrounding him.

Lewis, meanwhile, tried to listen without showing too much reaction. Everything the boy had told him—everything that happened—was simply overwhelming. What he thought impossible a father could do was becoming reality as Max continued to speak. Jos left him stunned again.

—Max, you know your dad leaving you on the road isn’t normal, right? He shouldn’t have done that— Lewis didn’t even know how to address the topic anymore.
—Yes… but I know there was a reason behind it— he never looked up from his hands.

"There will never be a sufficient excuse for what he did. Your dad is an abuser. You’re a child who doesn’t deserve this. You need to stay away from him. He’s a piece of shit."

That’s what Lewis most wanted to say. Instead, he remained silent, fearing to upset the little boy further. Now that he knew what had happened, all he wanted was to keep him away from that monster.

But… was he really a better person than Jos? For so long he had treated Max badly, for no reason. Before, blinded by resentment and hatred, he saw Max as the living image of Jos. And honestly, he knew it would be hard to stop seeing him that way. But in that moment, he stopped seeing Jos’s son, and only saw a child hurt by the one who should protect him.

The only thing he found right was placing a hand on his shoulder, a simple gesture of care and appreciation, almost like a whisper saying: “You’re here, and you’re not alone.”

And Max responded by lifting his gaze, expressing gratitude, his eyes glossy, lightly biting his lip.

Lewis realized he shouldn’t discourage the boy further, remembering there was another person waiting downstairs.
—I guess you must be hungry, and the tomato soup you asked for must have arrived by now. Let’s go downstairs— the older man encouraged.

—Finally, you came— Nico smiled.

Sure enough, the food was already on the table, so they sat and started eating immediately. During that time, Nico shared some anecdotes from the F1 season, making both Max and Lewis laugh and lightening the atmosphere, at least for a moment, forgetting what had happened earlier that day.

By the time they finished, it was a quarter to nine. They still had to see what needed to be done next.
—Well— Lewis began—. We know tomorrow is Monday, and both Max and I have to wake up early for school— he looked at the little one—. Shall we head out? We have about an hour to an hour and a half of travel ahead.
—Will you take me with you?— Max asked, bewildered.
—Of course, little one. Do you want to order something to eat on the way?— Both Lewis and Nico gave incredulous looks. Could Max really think they’d leave him behind?
—No, thanks— He let out a small yawn, which was the signal for Lewis to say goodbye to Nico.

The three left the hotel and went to the parking lot, where the former driver’s car was waiting.
—Max, why don’t you say goodbye to Nico and go put your suit in the car? It’s the one over there— Lewis pointed.
—Okay. Thank you so much for everything, Mr. Rosberg— the boy said nervously, smiling.
—It’s a pleasure, Maxi— Nico replied warmly, ruffling his hair kindly.

—Nico— Lewis started once Max walked away—. I could never find enough ways to express how grateful I am for everything. From accepting this invitation to meet, giving me advice I certainly needed— he laughed—. To taking care of Max and making him smile. I can’t believe the time I wasted staying away from you. Forgive me for that.
—Hey, it’s fine. I understand. Despite the rough day, I had a good time, and it was nice to meet again— He placed a hand on his shoulder—. I hope you help that child, it’s obvious he’s not doing well. We should get together another day, right?

And Lewis could only nod.

They shared a half-hug, longer than necessary. With that, Lewis and Max set off towards Monaco.
—It’s going to be a long ride, enough for you to sleep. Here, take my jacket, use it as a blanket.
—Thanks… — the little one was already dozing off, barely seated in the car.

During the drive, Lewis reflected on the day. He felt that something in him had changed, for the better. He looked in the rearview mirror at the boy, who, despite being troubled by his own fears, had come to trust him. From that night on, he promised himself he would never let resentment guide him again, no matter how difficult it might be.

As they neared Max’s home, Lewis reluctantly had to wake him to ask what he wanted to do:
—Hey Max, I know you’re asleep, but I wanted to make sure you’re okay with going home— He knew it sounded silly, but he really didn’t want to leave him with Jos if he could avoid it.
—Yes, yes. The worst that could happen is that he won’t talk to me, but it’s not that bad— and that only made Lewis want to take Max with him even more. 

When they arrived at Max’s apartment, the older man realized it wasn’t far from his own. That could be good.
—Max, before you get out— Lewis quickly wrote his number on a scrap of paper—. This is so you can call me, just in case. You can count on me for anything, I mean it— He smiled and ruffled the boy’s hair.
—Thank you so much for everything, Mr. Lewis. I had a really good time with you. Thank you for picking me up from the road— Max said, rubbing his eye.
—You’re welcome, kid. Take care.

The boy seemed relieved, but as soon as he stepped into his apartment, his expression darkened. And Lewis knew there were still things to resolve.