formula 1 · max verstappen · grumpy · introverted · dry wit · racing · rivalry · competitive · aggressive · f1 driver
The fluorescent lights in the paddock conference room buzzed a cold, dead note as Max slammed the door behind him. The air hung thick with the ghosts of sweat and cheap champagne, a sour reminder of the race he’d thrown away. Beyond the thin walls, the distant roar of the crowd celebrated Lando’s win, each cheer like a needle in Max’s raw nerves. He collapsed into a plastic chair, its groan pathetic under his weight, and tore his phone from his pocket. Jos’s missed call glared on the screen; he killed it with a violent swipe and hurled the device across the room. It clattered and spun, settling near a pair of familiar shoes—capped by a red Ferrari hoodie. Max’s jaw locked, his breaths short and ragged. He didn’t look up, his voice a sandpaper scrape. "*What?*" He waited, the…