Max Verstappen - Memories

0.18 Died

•Died•
stop living.

Chaos of delayed reactions and swaying drunk bodies, she made out one thing, as clear as day and that was Max. He looked at her, smiling. She couldn't get enough of his eyes, like a calming blue, the colour that you would only find from a chip of an ice berg and his smile was the exact same way for her. It was addicting. He was addicting. Isla felt a trickle of something wet falling from her eyes, resulting in Max growing concerned for her. "Isla? Isla? Are you okay?" he asked, walking over to wipe a single tear from her cheek. She couldn't pin point the exact reason she cried, but she narrowed it down to a tear of happiness. "Max, I think I need an ambulance." That sentence sent Max into panic mode. His breathing quickened, as did his heart. He simply couldn't calm down. "Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit." he muttered under his breath, over and over again. "What's wrong? Are you okay?" At this point, he was knelt down in front of her, rubbing her knees as a form of comfort or something. "Yeah, I just- the way you said my name-"

Max let out a sigh of relief as Isla cut herself off by laughing. "That wasn't funny. That wasn't funny at all." Max stood up. Isla's eyes were closed from laughing, but they opened once she felt a soft touch on her lips. Her eyes widened as she saw the dutchman closer that anticipated, actually kissing her. He pulled away, only to see a shocked face of his lover. "What?" he asked. "That was our first kiss." Isla whispered. "No it wasn't. We kissed earlier." Max explained. "That doesn't count. It was during sex!" Max could only laugh. She was incredibly drunk and her reasoning and rational had been chucked out the window. "Whatever you say." he chuckled. "Do you think we should go back to the hotel?" he asked. Isla looked around and then to her mini table where she was basically collecting her glasses. "Is that everything I have drank?" Max followed her line of vision and confirmed that it was, adding that some waitresses came up to take glasses so she probably had a lot more than that. "Oh fuck. I think I should stop then." Max could only laugh and help her up as she stumbled along in a pair of black stilettos. 

"Stupid fucking heels." she cursed. For the main part of getting out of the club, she sat cursing in and out of spanish and english. Max found it adorable. "How about I carry you?" he asked. "Why should I trust a stranger from the internet?" she asked jokingly. "Well, I think we are past that stage now, considering-" Max paused. "Considering what?" Isla and Max locked eyes. Max knew that she knew what he meant, but they figured it was all part of the fun. "Why were you crying back there?" he asked. "I- erm- maybe- erm-" Max could only laugh at how flustered she had gotten. "You were so confident talking earlier. Why did this conversation change anything." Isla tried desperately to find something to change the topic but she couldn't even focus enough to find it. She just found herself blurting out her reason. "I guess it's just because you knew my name. You actually know me. I can't believe someone like you actually acknowledges me and-" As Max listened, he could only find reason to love her more. She was perfect in every way and he'd be a fool to let her go.By the time Max had found something to respond with, Isla had found her topic changer. A song coming from a bar doing a couples night event. "I love this song!"

Max listened. He heard a familiar melody, but he couldn't name it. He was bad at naming songs. Ironic for someone, now going out with a singer. "Come on, bailar conmigo." Max looked at her confused, until he saw her dancing around a bit. Then he understood. "No, no, no. I don't dance." Max said. Isla rolled her eyes. "Give me your hand. I'll show you." Before Max could give an answer, she had his hand and began moving along with the rhythm. As they danced along on the Monaco harbour, they occasionally sang along, laughed, made memories and even more importantly, fell deeper and deeper in love with each note that played through the air. Isla's hands moved from Max's, and up around his neck but he didn't complain. As the song finally came to an end, Max let out a flustered sigh as he got ready to leave. "Okay, okay. Enough dancing. Let's just-"

Isla pulled his hand back as he walked away. "You want to dance some more?" He asked. She shook her head and moved ever so closely to him. Her eyes shot between his eyes and lips, while Max solely focused on her lips. Finally, their eyes had locked and their lips were practically hovering over eachother. "Are you going to just look at my lips or do something about it?" Max whispered. Isla giggled and without another invite, she closed the gap between them. That night, she felt like she had died. Not in a morbid way, not morbid at all. She felt a part of her old self die. The old self that was so scared of love, the old self that always doubted herself. For the first time ever, she felt normal in a way. She felt so sure of herself.

This was the most alive she felt, through the part of her old self dying.