When he was ten years old, Max met who he had considered to be his best friend ever.

Instantly endeared by her steadfast and empathetic attitude, the moment she sat herself down across from him in that damp alleyway, certainly ruining her own clothes, solidified her place as his best friend within his mind.

However naive it may seem, Max knew that anybody willing to sacrifice their own vanity for the betterment of others was someone worth knowing.

The first few months, their friendship was public knowledge to everyone but his father. Not because he was ashamed of her, but because he held Cielo in such high regard that he couldn't fathom the thought of introducing her to the hardass that was Jos Verstappen.

And he had been right too. The second Jos found out about how Max had been spending his time outside of racing, he threw a fit so large it made Max feel like he was four years old again and just beginning to learn karting.

"I can't believe this," He'd scoffed. "Out of all the idiotic and irresponsible things you could've done, going out and befriending this girl has to be the worst."

"Dad-"

"No," Jos cut him off before he could even try and defend himself. "This is unacceptable. Can't you see? That girl is just a distraction!"

Now, Max knew well enough by now that if he just sat there and took it, his father's tirades would end much quicker than they would if he'd talked back. But the way he spoke about Cielo...well it boiled Max's blood in a way that had never happened before.

To him, she was something precious. Untouchable from his father's ire and completely and utterly pure. Unburdened by the reality that was Jos Verstappen in all of his 'glory'.

"She is not a distraction!" Max scowled at his father. "She is my friend and I don't appreciate you speaking about her like that."

"She is and I can speak about her however I damn well please." Jos raised his voice, "Max, we've been over this. The only thing that should matter to you is racing. Not friends or anything else of that sort. This girl, she's not good for you and it's going to cost you dearly. Why can't you see that I am only doing what is best for you?"

"Dad," Max said, finally able to get a word in as his dad paused for breath. "She's not a distraction. She's my best friend and she has a name!"

"I don't give a damn whether she has a name or not because you are never to see her again, do you understand me?" Jos shouted. "Your only purpose here is to race."

"You can't stop me," Max glowered. "Her parents are reporters, so she'll be at every race anyway. I'll find a way to see her."

And he would, even if it was the last thing he ever did. Cielo was his first friend—a real friend—here at the tracks and Max would be damned before he gave that up.

It was nice to be able to have that one person that he could share all of his secrets with, no matter how mundane, and have her share hers in kind. Every shared smile, joined in laughter, snuck glances...it was something only he could have.

Something that not even Jos could take away from him, because they had chosen each other. They both had looked at the other and mutually decided that this was it, this would be the most important person in their life.

Valued in a different way than all the rest, because it was them.

"Her parents are reporters?" Jos repeated, the gears in his head already beginning to turn. A plan formulating within his mind.

While he didn't want his son to become distracted with things of unimportance, perhaps this girl's unique connection to the media could be a good thing. If Max had a friend with connections like that? It could do wondrous things for Jos and his plans for Max in the long run.

Max nodded hesitantly, confused and a little weary by his father's sudden change in demeanor. He'd never seen him calm down this fast before and, even though he'd never admit it, Max was terrified about what that meant.

"I think that's what she said," he mumbled to himself. It was difficult to really understand what she had been saying to him due to the fact that neither of their mother tongues was English and that Max didn't know any Spanish whatsoever, but that's what he assumed she meant by "re-por-ter".

At the time, he'd just nodded along to what she'd said if only to not seem like an idiot, but after a while, he thought he had a pretty good handle on her mannerisms and the way she spoke.

"This is good," Jos mused.

Max tilted his head to the side in confusion, "Why is this good?"

He knew better than to question, but he couldn't help himself. His curiosity had always gotten the better of him, it was something his mother had tried to condition him out of, unsuccessfully of course.

"Don't worry about it," Jos dismissed Max's concerns with a quick wave of his hand. "I will let you see the girl."

That seemed to do the trick in terms of distracting the young boy. Max's face lit up like a Christmas tree, intense blue eyes softening at the mere mention of Cielo, and it wasn't even by name.

"Really?" Max asked, barely able to believe it. "You will let me be friends with her?"

Jos simply nodded, waiting until Max left the room to say, "For now."

❛ ━━･❪ ✫ ❫ ･━━ ❜

It took another few hours after her morning conversation with Jenson for Cielo to put the first step of her plan into action.

She knew from the start that Jenson would have some reservations about her speaking with Max again, he did witness her spiral firsthand after their falling out after all. But she still didn't let that deter her from getting what she wanted.

And what she wanted? Well, it was to see Max Verstappen fall.

After Jenson had left her to her own devices, called away for one thing or another, Cielo took it upon herself to go over her notes and questions that she wanted to ask Max today. They might not have been the hard-hitting questions that she so desperately wished to ask, but they were enough to get her through the door. Enough to break the dam and get the answers she wanted flowing in a steady stream of willingness that she puppeteered from the shadows.

Before it was time for her to go, she received a message. A simple, vague, but direct message.

Tio Jense 🤍

think this through. please.

While she appreciated the sentiment, Cielo had thought this through. However distorted that view and thinking was, was another question—but she had thought this through.

Steeling herself for the inevitable, Cielo finally gathered the courage to stop stalling and finally do what she came here to do.

Another bout of weaving in between a plethora of engineers and mechanics brought Cielo face to face with the people everyone had come here to see—the drivers.

From a distance, she saw the vivid rosso corsa of the Ferrari's. The racing gear adorned by someone she had known for years.

"Charlie!" She called, waving her hand in the air as one Charles Leclerc turned to find who was calling him.

Said man's face lit up in recognition, instantly abandoning what he was doing to approach her. The last time the pair had seen each other was two years ago, it was a chance meeting but it had been a welcome one nonetheless.

"Ci," he greeted and pulled her into a warm embrace. Holding her close for only a moment before releasing her, "How are you?"

"I'm good," Cielo grinned, shouldering her bag higher just to give herself something to do. "Living my life, same thing as always."

Her friendship with Charles was an unexpected and unusual one, but it was real. No matter the circumstances of which it came to be.

"How about you?" She asked.

"You're still with Ferrari—unsurprisingly," she rolled her eyes playfully, to which Charles responded by lightly shaking his head. Cielo had made her feelings on his choice of teams clear, but that didn't stop them from making the most out of their realities. "How has that been for you?"

Charles shrugged, a boyish grin spreading on his face. "You know, it is getting better."

"We'll see," she said.

"We are not the best," he agreed. "But we're getting there."

"Good enough to take Red Bull head-on in a championship fight?"

The knowing look on Charles' face was enough to let Cielo know she was not being as vague as she'd hoped. It was, after all, how they'd bonded—their mutual desire to see Max Verstappen get a taste of his own medicine was a powerful bonding tool.

"You know better than me how likely that is," Charles mused. "We might have improved, but we're still nowhere near being Max Verstappen in a Red Bull."

Cielo smiled bitterly, "One can hope."

"So, what are you doing here?" he asked, curious as to what Cielo—someone who had always been adamant about never becoming one to conduct driver interviews—was doing here.

His history with her was almost as long and extensive as her history with Max was, or as extensive as his own with Max was. So to say he was baffled when he'd heard his name being called by her familiar voice—smooth, like whiskey, and hinted with an accent—was an understatement.

"I'm here to..." her voice trailed off. Cielo couldn't even finish her thought before something caught her eye.

There, behind Charles in all his blonde-haired, blue-eyed, five-foot-eleven glory, was Max. As soon as she caught sight of him it was as though everything else in the world had simply disappeared, her view narrowing down to him and only him.

Although he was much older now, bulkier, calmer, he was still the same Max that Cielo knew all those years ago. Watching him smile and laugh with his teammate sent a pang through her chest, almost like a stab to the heart. Suddenly she felt like a sixteen-year-old girl again, basking in the warmth of knowing that your best friend was happy. Except this time it was tinged with bitterness and contempt.

He was happy, sure. But it was with somebody else.

The moment Max began walking away, Cielo knew she had to act. Otherwise, she'd miss her chance, there was no stalling now.

"Excuse me," she said to Charles absentmindedly, already rushing away to catch up with Max.

"Woah! Wait–" he grabbed her arm, stopping her from leaving. With a quick glance in the direction Cielo had been staring, Charles saw what she had been watching like a lion does an antelope and his eyebrows flew up. "Cielo..."

"Charles," she copied, eyes darting everywhere but Charles'. If she made eye contact then he'd know and she wanted to avoid the real intent behind her actions coming to light.

"You are here to see him?" he questioned, accent thick as his disbelief in her actions made itself known.

"It's just an interview."

"What happened to the Cielo who wanted him to suffer?" he pressed. "The Cielo who never wanted to see him again? You've avoided driver interviews for seven years, what is going on?"

"Things have changed–"

"Don't lie to me," He cut her off. "I know you. You were mad at me for a year after I broke your favorite chair, there's no way you've suddenly decided to see him again."

"It was a good chair, you and your fat ass–"

"Ci."

She went quiet. There was no way to go about this without either outright lying or coming clean, and neither option was particularly appealing to her.

"Is this why you look so different now?" he asked, gesturing toward her hair and the way she was dressed. "What is going on?"

Instead of answering, Cielo pulled herself free of his grasp and took a step back "Look, Charlie, I really wish I could stay and talk but I have somewhere to be. We'll talk later, yeah?"

She didn't give him the chance to respond before she was rushing away trying to catch Max before he was sucked into another interview and she was left behind.

"Excuse me!" she yelled, forcing her way through the building crowds, "Mr. Verstappen! Mr. Verstappen!"

The use of Max's last name was something that certainly drew his attention. Usually, the media vultures used his first name to establish a false sense of familiarity between them, so to hear his last name being used to try and call his attention? Well, he quickly decided that was worth his time.

Turning back, Max was met with the sight of a woman rushing his way. She was slight, short in stature, and slim in build, with long straight brown hair and tan skin. Her dark brown eyes framed by long mascara-clad lashes and slight sun-worn freckles dotted around her cheeks.

"Um, yes?" he responded as the woman came to a full stop in front of him. Even though it was obvious she was wearing heels of some kind, Max couldn't help but notice that she was still quite a few inches shorter than he was, the top of her head ending up just around his shoulder.

With a tense smile the woman glanced up at him through her lashes, "Mr. Verstappen, hello. If I could just have a few moments of your time to answer a few questions, that would be greatly appreciated."

An accent.

It wasn't uncommon for people and reporters around the paddock to have accents, but this one specifically struck a chord with him but he just couldn't seem to place his finger on where he'd heard it before. The answer so close yet so far.

"You can call me Max," he stated, slightly uncomfortable with the idea of being referred to as Mr. Anything. It made him feel like his father, way back when...

The woman snorted, "Yeah, that's not going to happen."

"I'm sorry?"

"I think I'll stick with Mr. Verstappen if you don't mind," she said, pulling out her phone from her pocket and hitting record. "Now, the first race of the season is in a few days, how are you feeling about that? Are there any reservations about your ability to secure another championship this year?"

"Uh, well...you know I'm confident in my team's abilities and their constant support towards me," he said, taking a sip of his redbull. "And well I guess we'll have to see how all of the other teams perform in Free Practice and Quali before making any assumptions about whether or not we'll win another championship."

"And there are no doubts about your ability to perform to the highest ability this season?"

"Pardon?" Max was confused. Last season he'd absolutely dominated the grid, winning race and race until he'd won the championship. This questioning about his abilities behind the wheel was completely out of left field to him.

Although the searching glint in her probably had something to do with it, he supposed.

"A simple yes or no will suffice."

"Um, no? Can I ask why you're asking?"

The woman chuckled dryly, "No, I'm asking the questions here, and you're answering them like the good boy you are."

It was cruel, yes, but Cielo didn't care. Humiliating Max like he once did her was a bonus in her eyes.

"Okay I think–"

"The question," she interrupted. "Please, Mr. Verstappen."

"No," he said, brows furrowed. "There are no questions about my abilities to secure another championship."

"Wonderful," she smiled sharply. "That'll be all, thank you."

With that she turned and walked away, her hips swaying back and forth as she did so. Leaving Max baffled and disoriented about what had just happened.

Who was she and why did she seem so familiar to him? And why had she chosen to only refer to him as Mr. Verstappen?

He'd be lying if he said that he wasn't curious. Left wanting to know more and who this woman was and why she had such an effect on him in the short and limited time they'd interacted.

He didn't even catch her name.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄

HI ALL!! sorry this chapter took me longer to publish, I've been incredibly busy but in honor of Burn reaching 1K reads and me graduating, here it is!

hopefully it's up to your standards, it took me a while to figure out how I wanted this chapter to go.

in other news, maxielo finally met face to face, albeit briefly!! what do we think is up with Cielo calling max mr verstappen?

anywho, it might be a while until the next chapter comes up but hopefully my post-grad burnout gets itself sorted soon.

until next time,

charley xx.