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So this is where I am
Hanging on a feeling
Driving through the valley just to chase the pain again
He had made the trip before.
Multiple times, in fact.
It took Max exactly three minutes and nine seconds to reach Daniel’s condo. The doorman, Matteo, just gave the Dutchman a quick nod and buzzed him into the elevator. Each time was the same, never different, and never not strange.
He loved Daniel, truly. They had been teammates for almost three seasons now, and Red Bull had been pretty happy with the pairing, but Max wasn’t.
Reaching apartment 1363, he rapt his knuckles against the door three times and waited, bracing himself.
Max knew he’d have fun, nights with Daniel always were, but the after was what he always needed to prepare himself for. Martin had called him a masochist a few weeks ago, which he had to look up after the fact and immediately texted his friend that he was a dumbass.
But he was probably right.
Daniel could only hurt him, but Max wanted everything the man would give him, the good and the bad
When the door swung open, Daniel wasted no time. The front of Max’s hoodie was quickly grabbed by the Australian and he was thrust inside the apartment, lips already finding their home at the Dutchman’s neck. “Maxy.”
“Ricciardo.”
So this is where we are
I should've seen it coming
Every time we say goodbye, I say hello again
He should’ve expected it.
They usually do similar things each time, but sometimes those things would be in a different combination. This time, it was sex, food, more sex, a quick nap, and even more sex.
However, the ending was always the same.
“Heidi’s almost home, her flight just landed.”
Her.
Now, Max didn’t blame the woman. Technically, this was all Daniel’s fault, and even his own for being the third party, but that didn’t stop him from hating her. She was a woman, and he couldn’t compete with that.
So, he left, as he always did, with a rumpled, stolen t-shirt and a pity glance from Matteo.
The way home always felt way more depressing than the way there, and when two younger men came up to him and asked for a selfie, he had to put all of his energy into scrounging up a weak smile.
As he stepped into his home, kicking off his shoes and flopping onto the coach, his head almost caught on the corner table. After only a few moments, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He slowly flipped over, fumbling his hand into his pocket as he grabbed the device.
When he unlocked it, he saw one text: u free tmw night?
I cried in your dark brown eyes for the thousandth time
'Cause you love somebody
He didn’t want to fight, not really.
Yes, things had been going badly for Max, but it wasn’t right of him to put all of it on Daniel. And now, because of him, everything was imploding.
The double DNF in Baku had really fucked up a lot for them, and even though Max truly believed it was Daniel’s fault, he had apologized multiple times after the fact. The Australian hadn’t accepted any of his apologies before showing up to the Dutchman’s house at 2am, drunk as a stunk.
They had been yelling, screaming really, and the loudness wasn’t helping any of their points get across. And that’s when she was brought up. “I have to deal with shit like this at home, Max, I don’t need it at work now too.”
“Then why are you putting up with it, you’re wat een eikel.”
Daniel turned his back on Max and walked to the door, flinging it open. “I don’t even know anymore, but at least I love her enough to stay.”
I died when you left that night for the thousandth time
'Cause you love somebody else
He felt as if the rug had been yanked out from underneath him.
Max had known, he wasn’t that stupid, but to hear it outloud? It hurt tremendously. What did he do to deserve that? What was he doing wrong?
His silence spoke for him, and Daniel took it as an answer.
As Max reached the open door, he looked outside to see his teammate starting his car and pulling away. Everything in his body told him to run, to try and stop him, but he knew it was no use, not right now.
So, he planned. He told himself that he was going to give Daniel the space Max assumed he needed, and before the summer break, he’d tell him everything.
I tried to stop the door as it was closing
It was closing
He thought the beginning of the break would be the best timing.
It was not.
There had been rumors, yes, but Max had refused to believe them. Daniel wouldn’t do that to him. They had been through so much, and their connection went way deeper than just being teammates, no one could throw that away.
Well, turns out Daniel had that ability.
“Please, Jij bent mijn leven.” Max’s voice slightly echoed in the empty garage. Hungary had been brutal for him, retiring on lap six for the engine was stupid.
And now it seemed that Renault was fucking him over in more way than one.
First the engine, and now the team. Instead of focusing on Daniel’s fourth place finish, Max was listening to him talk about his move to the new seat, and he wasn’t happy.
“I’m sorry, Max, it has to happen.”
Can't help the way I keep ignoring every omen
Every omen
Heaven knows I should let go
It's nothing that I don't already know
He didn’t hate Pierre.
There was nothing wrong with the Frenchman, only that he wasn’t Daniel.
The season had been going fine, nothing too crazy to be happy about. 2019 was supposed to be a new start for Max, no Daniel and no relations with anyone that was Daniel.
However, his third place finish in Barcelona changed that.
He and Sebastion had been fighting practically the entire grand prix for second place, neck and neck, until Max was able to break away. After the celebrations, he was sticky with red bull and champagne, so he made his way to his driver's room.
Hopping into the shower he proceeded to scrub off the evidence of his podium. When he heard the door to the room open, he assumed it was Jake dropping off some food or a smoothie, so he ignored it and finished his shower. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he stepped out and opened the door, only to find Daniel sitting on the couch.
Fuck.
I kiss you on your neck
You were staring at the ceiling
I should've known right then and there you were a runaway
He had dropped the towel fairly quickly.
Daniel then immediately dragged him down onto the couch, and that had been that. As they continued, the Australian’s excitement seemed to fade, and it became obvious to Max that this wasn’t truly what his ex-teammate wanted.
So, he pulled away.
And Daniel ran.
Oh, just make it go away
Can you help me rearrange it?
I'm still making sense of having nothing left to save
He liked racing in Monaco.
Not because of the circuit, god no, but because he could go straight home afterwards.
Unfortunately, the team wanted to go out, so he found himself at Jimmy’s with both pit crews and Pierre. Max was nursing his second gin and tonic as his teammate was absorbed in his phone.
The Frenchman let out a sharp laugh before shoving his phone in his pocket. He looked up to meet Max’s gaze, seeing the slight frown grace the Dutchman’s face. “Sorry, just Charles, he might stop by.”
“I’m surprised he’s not wallowing at home.” That earned a stern look from Pierre, making Max put his hands up in mock defeat. “Sorry, sorry. He’s, of course, free to come by if he wants.”
By the time Max was on his fourth drink, Charles had arrived. He donned a white button up with the sleeves rolled up twice and three buttons undone to expose much more than just his collarbone. The longer they stood in the corner at a high-top, the more sweat that accumulated on his jaw the Red Bull driver wanted to lick off.
After each drink the Monegasque finished, Max would move closer and closer, and after the fifth tequila sunrise was put down, Charles' side was firmly pressed against his. He had spotted the Ferrari driver glancing at him every so often before he wrapped an arm wrapped around Max’s waist and pulled him in closer.
“Your place or mine?” Charled whispered. It was bold to ask that, especially when Pierre was just next to him.
Max scoffed, “Mine, obviously, I don’t live with my parents.”
The Monegasque shook his head, leading out a breathy laugh, “Quel taquin!”
I cried in your dark brown eyes for the thousandth time
'Cause you love somebody
He hadn’t meant to cry.
It was a completely civil conversation, meant to just catch up while they were home in Monaco for a couple days before travelling to Austria. They had been hooking up for a little under a month and it had been going great.
Max was ready to ask him out, officially.
But, with a glance at Charles’ phone, those hopes died.
A woman, one he recognized as someone that the Monegasque had waved off at an event, was on his lockscreen. It was simple: she was looking behind her, smiling at the phone and waving. Max knew who was behind that phone.
So, he asked, and he got the answer he didn’t want. “Her name’s Charlotte, I think I really love her.”
And that’s when the tears began to pour.
I died when you left that night for the thousandth time
'Cause you love somebody else
He wiped them away furiously as Charles seemed to stare in absolute horror.
“Get out.”
“Max.”
“No, get out, now.”
“We can still–”
I tried to stop the door as it was closing
It was closing
He had wanted the win.
The Austrian Grand Prix had been a battle beginning to end, with Max overtaking Charles on one of the last laps to secure the victory.
Obviously, the Monegasque wasn’t happy. The cool-down room and podium ceremony were tense, and Max could tell that Bottas felt it as well.
So, in one last attempt at maintaining the peace, the Dutchman extended an invitation to his rival.
Can't help the way I keep ignoring every omen
Every omen
He approached slowly, as if he was expecting Charles to attack him. “Fly back with me?”
“Why?”
“We should talk, het spijt me, ik denk dat ik van je hou.”
“Bien.”
Heaven knows I should let go
It's nothing that I don't already know
He hadn’t meant for it to happen.
But, Charles looked irresistible, and the plane was empty except for them.
It had been quick, but perfect.
That’s how it always felt like when Max slept with the Monegasque, and it would be the same description the Dutchman would use to describe their relationship afterwards
They sat on separate sides of the aisle for the rest of the flight.
After an hour or so, Max noticed that he was trending again on twitter, but this time, it wasn’t about the race.
“Rivalry Reaches Breaking Point”
“Red Bull Ring Puts Lestappen through the Ringer”
“Charles Leclerc Unfollows Max Verstappen on Instagram”
Max looked over at Charles who was zeroed in on his phone.
He decided that two could play at that game, swiping to Instagram, turning the gray button on the Monegasque’s profile blue.
We go 'round again, we jump back in bed
That's what you do when you love somebody
He never saw the appeal.
Lewis was attractive, Max wouldn’t deny that, but he wasn’t the Dutchman’s type. However, he was available and a man has needs.
It started at the French Grand Prix.
The race was tight at the end, with Max beating Lewis out by a little under three seconds. As they jumped out of their cars in parc fermé, the Englishman congratulated him, drawing the Dutchman into a quick embrace. “I’ll get you next time,” he said.
Fuck.
That sent a shiver down his spine, especially with the added wink that the Mercedes driver threw in.
So, it wasn’t much of a surprise to him that he ended up in Lewis’ bed later that night.
These bad omens, I look right through them
That's what you do when you love somebody
He knew it had ended at turn 5.
Not the championship, he had a gut feeling that he had that in the bag, but his arrangement with Lewis.
They had talked, once, at the Brazilian Grand Prix. It had been a discussion about what would happen after the season, after the fight of their lives.
The legend, chasing his eighth.
The young upstart, chasing his first.
It hadn’t ended well, but the make-up sex had made it worth it.
Now, it had really happened, and Max knew there was no coming back from a win like that. A text, later, confirmed it.
Don’t contact me.
We go 'round again, we jump back in bed
He lasted almost two years.
For a while, Max genuinely believed he'd learned his lesson. After Daniel, after Charles, after Lewis, he knew exactly how these stories ended.
That knowledge should have stopped him.
It didn't.
Checo was there. Familiar. Easy. Someone who already understood the life Max lived better than almost anyone else.
Getting too close to a teammate was a terrible idea, Max knew that, but he ignored it anyway.
It started in Miami.
Conversation became a habit. A habit became something harder to define. By the time Max realized he'd crossed the line he'd promised himself he wouldn't cross again, it was already too late.
And, like always, he stayed.
That's what you do when you love somebody
He had known that it was over before it happened, Checo ending the arrangement prior to Abu Dhabi 2024.
It wasn’t dramatic in the way Max expected things to be dramatic.
No shouting, no crashing exit, no slammed doors.
Just a conversation that felt too calm for how much it changed everything. They sat across each other in the motorhome, the noise of the paddock muffled into something distant. “We both know this has run its course,” Checo said, steady as ever.
Max didn’t argue, he usually did, but the silence said more than either of them wanted to admit.
When Checo left, he paused at the door like he might say something else. Then he didn’t, just a small nod and he was gone.
The Dutchman stayed sitting there long after the room emptied.
These bad omens, I look right through them
He wasn’t expecting another Englishman to be next.
George appeared in his life quietly, almost inconveniently.
A bar in 2025, somewhere between race weekends and exhaustion, Max had intended to leave early.
He didn’t.
George slid into the seat beside him like he already belonged there.
They talked about everything except what truly mattered. Rookies, strategy, the ridiculous pressure of media days. George laughed at something Max said, and the Dutchman hated how easy it was.
His instincts screamed at him to leave, but he ignored them.
That's what you do when you love somebody
He had learned how endings worked by Abu Dhabi 2026.
They didn’t arrive loudly, they arrived clean.
The season was over, the final race already dissolving into champagne and noise he could no longer feel connected to. Now, it was just a hotel room, a hotel room that was too bright and too quiet.
Max sat on the bed, scrolling through his phone.
One more year, then he was done.
The bathroom door opened and George stepped out, towel around his neck and hair still damp from the shower. He looked like he belonged in moments like this, the post-race silence, the in-between where nothing was expected of them. “You’re still reading that?” George asked.
“Yeah.”
The Englishman sighed, walking closer to the bed. “You sure?”
Max didn’t look up immediately. “About retiring?”
A nod.
The Dutchman finally set his phone down. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
A pause stretched between them, not uncomfortable, just heavy. “You’ll miss it,” George said eventually.
“I know.”
“And that’s still okay?”
Max let out a short laugh. “It has to be.”
George sat beside him on the bed. Their shoulders didn’t touch, but the space between them felt smaller than it should have.
The Redbull driver stared at the floor for a moment. “I’ve been doing this my whole life,” he said. “It’s not like I don’t know what I’m giving up.”
“Then what are you keeping?” George asked quietly.
Max exhaled, the answer coming too easily, “You.”
That made George look at him properly, not surprised, just still. Then, softer, “That’s a dangerous thing to say, Verstappen.”
Said man shrugged, “So is driving 300 kilometres towards a wall.”
George huffed a laugh, bumping his shoulder lightly against Max’s. “Five world championships between us would be nice.”
Max glanced at him, smiling slowly. “Five? I don’t think us bulls are going to be able to scrap a win together next year.”
A beat.
George threw the towel at him and he caught it, laughing.
“I wasn’t talking about you,” George said.
“I know.”
They both knew that wasn’t entirely true, but neither corrected it.
Else (When you love somebody)
He had thought, years ago, that love was something that came with noise.
With intensity. With urgency. With people who burned bright and left faster than they arrived.
Daniel. Charles. Lewis. Checo.
Each of them had felt like a different version of the same mistake. But now, he understood it differently.
It wasn’t the people, it was the chase.
The need to turn every connection into something that could outrun the emptiness after a race.
Formula racing had always been the thing he loved most, not just the winning, but also the impossible edge of it. The way it demanded everything and still asked for more.
Else (When you love somebody)
He didn’t win his last race of his final season.
And he didn’t need to.
The world had already stopped feeling like something he had to prove himself against.
After celebrating with his team for his second place finish, Max watched George put his head in his hands, helmet still on, gloves still half-fastened.
When Max finally pulled his own helmet off, the noise of the crowd hit him all at once. He took a deep breath, taking it all in, before looking over at the Mercedes driver.
He was done hugging his team members, his helmet now in his hands and a sweaty strand of her swooping over his forehead.
Max walked over.
No cameras in that moment mattered. No standings. No headlines. No legacy.
Just the space between them closing naturally, like it had always been meant to. George tilted his head slightly. “So that’s it?”
Max nodded once. “Yeah.” A pause, then, quieter: “I think I’ve finally figured it out.”
George frowned slightly. “Yeah?”
Max looked out at the track one last time. “I thought I was in love with all of it. ”He turned back. “But I wasn’t.”
George didn’t interrupt.
Max smiled. “I was just trying to outrun the part of me that needed something to stay.”
George’s expression softened. “And?”
Max didn’t hesitate. “Now something has.”
George let out a breath that sounded like relief more than anything else, then he reached for him.
Not like a driver.
Not like a rival.
Just like someone who had finally stopped leaving.
And for the first time, Max didn’t feel like he was chasing anything at all.