midnights, 4 * mv1
you’re woken up in the middle of the night in cold sweat and max’s name at the tip of your tongue
pairings: max verstappen x reader
warnings: sad again :(
notes: i’m almost at 2k followers!!! i’ll be doing a sleepover event soon, so do look out for that!!!
(prev) // (next)
it feels so real, the way his hands are cupping your cheeks with his thumbs rubbing circles against the skin. “my darling.”
“max.” you come out in a whisper, your hands clutching onto his wrist. “don’t go.”
“i wouldn’t ever dare.”
wouldn’t ever dare.
that’s the words that woke you in a jolt, met by the darkness and stillness of your own bedroom. you stay in your position for a little bit, the weight on your chest making is slightly harder to breathe.
the effort to steady yourself is constant, but slow. there’s a tingling sensation where you think he last touched you, on your cheeks and by your neck. your lips are numb that you have to graze your fingers over it to make sure you’re really awake.
you exhale shakily, finally turning over to your side. you sigh and snuggle your face into the blanket. the picture frame of max kissing your cheek stands tall. it was his championship race from the 2022 season, right before he left the garage to start the race.
you couldn’t bear the thought of putting this one down. it had been a special moment with him, the thought of winning back to back championships seemed so silly in the beginning.
max doesn’t haunt your dreams often, even when you’d been pining for him. watching the championship sprint race wasn’t the best idea. you’d fallen asleep on the couch before it started and woke up with max’s face zoomed in on the screen.
it took everything in you not to send him a message, congratulating him on a win that was undisputedly his. every fibre of self control not to give him a call and ask him how everything has been.
you were curious yourself how the sprint had gone — you watched clips of him after the race looking drained. it almost brought you to his contact to call him, drowning him with questions laced with concern.
you wanted to be the one to press the cold towel to his forehead and essentially wipe him dry of his sweat.
you felt like a stranger to his life, and it’s killing you. you don’t know if he’s celebrating the championship with some other girl on his arm, sharing a tradition that only you two were aware of.
you can’t help but wonder if his champagne flavoured lips has been tasted by another woman and it makes your stomach churn at the thought of someone else having that luxury. a luxury that you seem to have dismissed too easily during your relationship.
but you realise it’s not really your problem, now that he’s just another ex-boyfriend; you’re just another ex-girlfriend.
your phone lights up on the nightstand, illuminating the picture frame. a small smile stretches your lips when you catch a glimpse of his lips smushed into your cheeks. not knowing what max is up to almost drives you crazy when you let it get to your head.
you now know nothing of the person you knew everything about.
it’s a bigger change than anyone cares to elaborate after a breakup. it’s a lot harder to deal with, but it’s something nobody ever talks about.
they tell you about the crippling pain of losing the love of your life and how empty the bed will feel without them. but nobody ever tells you how directionless and painful it will be when you feel yourself start to become a mere memory to them.
you slide your phone off your nightstand, reading the notifications that flooded your phone. you hadn’t expected anyone to be texting you so late, but you remember that half of the people you know are in another timezone.
danny
❧ not here for championship weekend? :(
❧ oh nevermind :/
the texts were 3 hours apart. you’re guessing that somewhere between those two messages, max had confessed about what happened.
alexandra
❧ did u text him??
❧ it’s ok if u did…
but you still didn’t feel like talking to anybody. you drop the phone behind you and close your eyes.
a shaky breath passes your lips, max’s face flashing for a second — the face he makes when he’s across the room at a function and he spots you in the crowd unexpectedly. it’s very gentle and you can almost see the love oozing out of him when you’d caught it.
you open your eyes. you turn to your other side, now facing the empty half of your bed. you stretch your arm out and try to imagine the feeling of max next to you.
you try to remember what it felt like to be cuddled into his chest with his strong arm wrapped around your back. but it’s been so long since you’d been in such an intimate position with him, even before the relationship had come to its end.
sleep never came that night, the image of your love creeping up every single time you kept your eyes closed for too long. the sun had risen before you fell into a slumber, but max never left your mind even then.
taglist:
@merchelsea @leclercdream @labelledejourr @laneyspaulding19 @lpab
622 notes
·
View notes