Chapter Text
The sun burned down mercilessly onto the hot asphalt, the smell of fuel, excitement and opportunity lingering like mist in the Miami air. Patrick adjusted his Red Bull Cap as he stepped onto the circuit.
He still couldn’t believe his luck. It had been a raffle. A stupid raffle. He remembered participating in it on his commute to work. Never in is wildest dreams would he have thought, that he might actually win. Something like this never happened to people like him. And yet, here he was. Standing in the middle of the F1 circus, surrounded by journalists, mechanics, celebrities and of course, the drivers themselves. He watched in awe as the teams were practicing their pit stops, every movement a testament to their training and passion for motorsport.
And then, there he was. Max Verstappen. The driver – no, the person – he admired more than anyone in his life. Not on the screen, not on a poster. Max Verstappen in the flesh. He didn’t expect him to notice him, or even stop for an autograph. Drivers were always busy, especially the championship leader. Their schedule didn’t leave any room for distractions before a race. And so he just watched mesmerized, as Max rushed past him.
Patrick tried to memorize everything about this moment. The way Max moved, so confident, like he owned the streets. The way his face lit up, when he laughed at something his assistant had just said. He was real. Max was real.
Suddenly a push from behind knocked Patrick off his feet. He stumbled forward and landed hands first on the rough asphalt. A sharp pain erupted from where his knees had made contact with the concrete.
Awkwardly he shifted around to see what had just hit him. A cameraman muttered a swift “Sorry, mate” as he followed his reporter back into the crowd, not bothering to help him up. Just perfect. Only he could manage to embarrass himself in front of everyone. In front of his heroes. He tried to get back onto his feet, when suddenly a hand appeared in his vision.
“You alright, mate?”
Patrick’s head shot up. …No. This couldn’t be real.
“That looked like a nasty fall back there. Are you hurt?”
Patrick couldn’t believe his eyes. Max Verstappen was standing right in front of him, concern in his perfect blue eyes.
“I’m fine”, he managed to croak, as he let himself be pulled up by Max’s hand. His blood was roaring in his ears.
“You sure?”, Max frowned, inspecting the scratches on Patrick’s arms.
He nodded, not trusting his voice to not crack again.
“Those media idiots never watch where they’re going. Don’t think about it and just enjoy the weekend, yeah?” Max’s eyes flickered to the Red Bull Cap on the floor. Patrick must have lost it during the fall. In one swift motion, Max snitched it off the ground.
“Big Fan?”
Patrick just nodded again. Damn it, Patrick, use your fucking words!
“Want me to sign it for you?”
“Yes. Please”, he finally managed to say. Out of nowhere, Max pulled out a sharpie, scribbled his signature onto the fabric and placed the cap back on Patrick’s head. Did drivers always carry pens with them wherever they went?
“Want a photo, too?” Immediately, Patrick started fumbling for his phone in his pocket. Meanwhile Max had already slung an arm around him, like it was the most natural thing in the world. A photo with Max Verstappen. His arm on his shoulder. Soft. Warm. Real. Was he dreaming?
“Smile”, the driver said as he raised the phone in front of them.
A horn suddenly blared through the paddock as Max handed the phone back with a warm smile.
“Better get going. Enjoy the race and watch out for those evil camera men!”
And just like that he was gone. Vanished back into the crowd where he had come from. Patrick was frozen, but his mind was racing. Did that just really happen? Max Verstappen. Not only had he noticed him, he had talked to him. Had taken time for him. For the rest of the day, he kept replaying every little detail of that interaction. Every glance, every word. There had been a connection. A real connection. He could feel it.
Something shifted inside of him. Something deep and dark.
This wouldn’t be the last time they met.
Patrick would make sure of it.
The sounds of the crowd and the engines blurred together as Max climbed into his Red Bull. His mind should have been on the strategy and the tires, but his thoughts kept cycling back to the man in the crowd. He had looked so thankful, so completely star struck. Of course that was nothing new for him. Everywhere he went, people wanted autographs and photos. Max knew what I meant to fans. Not so long ago he himself had been waiting for his favorite drivers to sign a cap for him in the paddock, dreaming of racing alongside them. He smiled at the memory.
“Radio Check.”
“Loud and clear”, Max answered, as he channeled his focus on the drive ahead of him. He had a race to win.
For Max it was just another weekend. But for one fan, this day had been something life changing.
Max just didn’t know how life-changing yet.