"Please don't pick that up, not today. I want us to have a pleasant evening to celebrate your win," you begged Max when his phone began to ring. The ID of the caller said it was his father calling. You sighed because you knew these calls had just one outcome - sad Max.
"You know I have to take that," he said before leaving to the terrace. He stopped taking these calls in front of you because he once did, and it didn't go well. He couldn't handle seeing how sorry you were for him. He also couldn't bear seeing tears streaming down your cheeks when his father called you a gold-digging bitch. He told you these reasons, but in fact, there was one more. He didn't want to break down in front of you.
So there you were, looking at your boyfriend through the big windows of your apartment. He was running his fingers through his hair in frustration. You knew it was nasty when he sat down on the floor. He did the thing he despised the most - he resigned.
You didn't hesitate and made your way to your terrace with a thick blanket wrapped around your body since the outside was around ten degrees. You sat next to him and wrapped the blanket around him as well. It broke you to see him like that, vulnerable and hurt.
"What did he say?" You were almost afraid to ask him this question because you didn't want him to be sad.
"The same shits as always. He talked a lot about qualifying. He said how I sucked in the third turn. How incompetent I am. Also that I should be glad that Lando understeered and overslipped the fronts in the last corner because otherwise, he'd be on the pole, and I'd be a disappointment as always." It was always the same. At first, Max was angry, but Jos was digging too deep that he eventually hit the right spot to break his son.
"You'd have had a way better time if you hadn't been the first car on the track," you told him sincerely, and he shook his head. You were convinced that he'd have been better. His father was barking up the wrong tree.
"He's right. I messed up in turn three, and I should be indeed glad that Lando understeered. He's right," he muttered. It was unbelievable how much power Jos had over him. You knew he was a perfectionist, and he raised Max as one as well. You didn't see the problem with focusing on the details, that's what perfectionism is about, but this seemed more like hating yourself for every stupid mistake, even though you couldn't influence it in any way.
"Why am I just not enough for him?" Max said sadly. When the first tear left his eye, he quickly hid his head in your embrace. You tangled your fingers into his hair to calm him down a little.
"Shhh, you're enough," you whispered into his ear while still brushing your fingers in his hair. Seeing him like this was tearing you apart. More tears streamed down his cheeks and fell on your skin, and you gulped, trying your best not to start crying as well.
"He always finds at least one mistake. Every fucking time. I think I had a decent weekend, but he says otherwise." Max sobbed. You knew that his qualifying lap wasn't the best one, but he still managed to be on the pole. He accomplished to win three Grand Prix in a row. Wasn't that enough for Jos? What more would he want?
"You won, Max. You're leading the championship. It's Jos who's making mistakes here. He's losing his perfect son," you wrapped your arms around him, making him feel safe. There were times when he needed to be a little spoon, and you didn't complain.
"Maybe he just cannot accept that you're way better than him." You tried to make up an excuse for Jos's behaviour. It was better to tell him that he was jealous than saying to Max that he has a shitty dad.
"I'm just so tired. I haven't seen any mistakes in my few recent races, but he came as always with plenty of flaws, and I'm just so tired of it. Why can't he love me?" That broke you. You forbade yourself from thinking about Max's childhood because you knew it wasn't a happy one, but now you just couldn't unsee the little boy who wanted to be loved.
"I don't need him to tell me after every race that I was perfect, but I would like his encouragement at least once. Am I asking for that much?" he asked you desperately. It was breaking your heart. Max only wanted acceptance and appreciation from his father. He was asking for something that was taken for granted by almost every child.
"Max, look at me," you encouraged him, but he didn't move. You gently placed your fingers on his chin and lifted his head. His eyes were red and puffy. "You deserve to be loved. You were never too difficult, nor not enough. You're not asking for too much. He's just the wrong person to ask for love from." You wiped his tears with your thumbs, and then you placed a long kiss on his forehead. You tried to give him as much love as possible, but you couldn't replace love from his father.
"I'm sorry for ruining our evening," he apologised sadly. He wanted this evening to be perfect. He wanted to cuddle up with you into blankets, watch some film on Netflix and not think about his work.
"Don't be. You're not the one who ruined it." you reminded him again that it's his father who caused this whole scene.
"I love you," he mumbled and leaned down to press a kiss to your lips.
"I love you too, Max."
♥︎daily reminder♥︎
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