iii. hickey.
◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ׁ ˙ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ׁ ˙ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ׁ ˙ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ׁ ˙ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜

Willa glanced at Augustine expectantly, "where were you..?" she demanded.

Augustine blinks and she smiles, "I fucked Carlos Sainz."

"I beg your finest pardon."

"I fucked Carlos."

"I understood that, yeah, but I don't know the formula one drivers, which one is that one?"

"Spaniard."

"The old one?"

"No!" Augustine exclaims and laughs, "no, he used to be Max's teammate." she tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and then frowns at Willa's expression. "What?"

"Is Carlos a vampire? Because Max is so going to see that." Willa points at Augustine's neck and Augustine frowns as she reaches into her table drawer and pulls out the mirror compact.

Oh. Fuck. She'd deal with that after she spoke to Max.

𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃

Max paces back and forth across the living room, tension radiating in every step he took. When Augustine finally walks through the door, her face cold and unreadable, he stops dead in his tracks. "You disappeared for hours." he says, his voice low and brimming with anger. "What the hell were you thinking Augustine...?"

She closes the door behind her with a deliberate and agonizing slowness, shrugging off her coat, "I went out, what did you want me to do? Lay in bed and cry?"

"Yes!" he snaps, his frustration spilling out in cold and hard lashes. "At least I would've known where you were! Instead, you ran off, didn't answer your phone, and you left me wondering where the hell you went and if something had happened to you!"

Her jaw clenched as she turns to face him, "You broke up with me, remember?" she shot back. "On my birthday! You don't get to play concerned ex!"

He flinched at her words and when her hair moves from her neck to past her shoulder, the words forming in his throat die on his lips when he spots the faint mark on her pale skin, just below her collarbone, just barely visible as she moves her hair and his stomach twists. "What is that?" he asks, his voice is low, accusatory.

She rolls her eyes and ignores him, "it's nothing." she replies disinterestedly.

"Oh it's nothing." he mocks. "You disappeared for hours and you return with that!" he points at her neck accusingly.

Her jaw tightens but she doesn't look at him, "You don't get to ask about that."

"The hell I don't." he shot back, his voice rising. "You think that I'd just sit here and not notice? I was worried about you! I thought something had happened to you, and now..." he's too angry to actually finish his sentence but he persists, "And I find out you seek someone else?"

"You ended this!" Augustine points out as she finally turns to him, "You broke up with me! You made it clear you wanted space! So yes! I went and celebrated my birthday elsewhere! I wasn't going to spend my birthday crying over someone who couldn't give a flying fuck about me!"

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut — for a moment, he can't speak, not that he can't speak but because she's right. His anger is hot and fast, but underneath it all was something far worse; jealousy and regret, and the crushing realization that in pushing her away, she'd finally realized her worth. "You can't call me a slut or any other name in the book! You hurt me, yes! But I'm never going to apologize for deciding how I repair myself for the mess you made!" Augustine's voice cracks with frustration as she steps closer to him.

Max's jaw tightened as the words hit him, but instead of backing down, he leaned forward, his voice sharp and cutting. "The mess I made?" he sounds appalled at her words, shocked even, "Don't act like I'm the only one at fault here, Augustine. You stormed out and didn't think for a second about what that would do to me. You just wanted to hurt me back, didn't you?"

Her eyes widened in disbelief, her voice trembling with fury. "Are you fucking serious right now? You broke up with me out of nowhere, on my birthday! And now you're twisting this around like I'm the one who's in the wrong? You don't get to play the victim, Max."

"I'm not playing anything," he snapped, his tone rising. "I made a mistake, fine! But running off and—" His gaze flicked to the hickey again, and his voice hardened. "What, finding someone else to make you feel better? That's low, Augustine."

She laughed bitterly, her cheeks flushed with anger. "Low? You have the nerve to talk about low after what you did to me? You broke me, Max. You left me to pick up the pieces, and now you're mad because I didn't do it the way you wanted me to?"

"It's not about how you did it!" he shot back, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "It's about who! You don't just—God, Augustine, you think this doesn't kill me? Seeing that? Knowing someone else—" He stopped, his voice cracking as he gestured helplessly toward her neck.

"You don't get to feel entitled to anything about me anymore," she said, her voice icy now. "You don't get to act like this when you're the one who let me go. I don't owe you an explanation. I don't owe you my pain. And I sure as hell don't owe you my loyalty after the way you ended things."

Max's chest heaved as he glared at her, his frustration bubbling over into desperation. "You think I don't regret it? Every second since I said those words, I've regretted it. But I didn't expect you to just—"

"To just what, Max? Move on? Pick myself up? Figure out how to survive after you tore me apart?" Her voice cracked again, but she stood tall, defiant. "You don't get to dictate how I survive you."

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of her words settling between them. Max stared at her, his defenses crumbling, but his pride refusing to let him fully relent. "I just... I didn't think you'd be so quick to forget us," he muttered, quieter now, but still stubborn.

"Forget us?" Augustine's voice softened, her anger giving way to something more wounded. "Do you really think I could ever forget you, Max? You've been in my head every second since you ended things. But I'm not going to sit around and let your guilt make this about you. Not anymore." another pause. "I've worked too hard on my career to just be known as Max Verstappen's girlfriend." she reaches for her coat again, and for the second time in the past 24 hours, Augustine storms out, rattling the doorframe seconds after slamming the door shut.

Max Verstappen had truly fucked up now — that part he was sure of. There was no way to get her back — he would play her game. He was good at playing her games, he'd just have to beat her at her own game.

𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃