The Bull Prince | Max Verstappen

SEQUEL - Chapter 27

Hello, my little muffin heads. 

Against common belief, I'm not dead. My lovely friend @-justanna- was poking me with a stick so I would do something, and some of you guys joined her. So I heard your requests and I gave the people the Manwhore (little self-advertisement, if you haven't checked out my other 'still but might change' short story about Pierre maybe do that) but people kept demanding the Bull Prince so yeah, here we are. 

In terms of chapters, there is no chapter. Nah I'm joking. I have something for you guys. I will say it again. I'm not stopping this story just yet. I just feel mandatory to write this story which kills the fun a bit, so I will write it, I have plans for a lot to come, but I will do it on my terms. But yeah, sometimes it helps if someone comes in to annoy me until I write. As always comments and other stuff are welcome. I thought about saying something concerning the chapter but I won't lol. Anyways. Enjoy reading. 

Cheers! 

<><><>

Then fucking have me. 

The words were echoing in the silence of the room. Normally Joanna would get angry at such words, as if she wasn't trying as if it was her, who had turned around and run away. She was here, in the exact place he left her, but the pregnancy made her so endlessly tired. She lacked the energy to fight Max. Joanna was known for being stubborn and headstrong, but when even sitting on the couch and watching qualifying exhausted her, she saw no point in screaming and kicking just because Max said something she didn't like.

Joanna was looking down at the screen of her phone. A picture of Max and her smiling at each other looking back at her taunting her. This was what she could have every single day if she would have jumped over her own shadows just once and even if she would have tumbled and fallen, back then Max would have been there to catch her. Back then he loved her, for better or worse.

He still does, Joanna knows that, but she can't stop herself from feeling like his love for her was the very thing that caged him in. She feared their love was masked by pain and violence against themselves.

She didn't expect such raw and emotional words from him, Max tried his very best to be levelled, to not show her how much she got to him, and she hated it, but seeing his anger, his words soaked in anger and frustration, she wasn't sure what was harder to bare, his indifference or the might of his fury.

Joanna lowered the phone. She knew there was no point in calling Max back. He had duties to tend to, the things on his mind are many. Forcing herself into his already packed schedule was more than insensible. Joanna knew that she shouldn't have done so. Max had every right to be away from her, from them. To find his own way, to make up his mind. Disturbing him was unfair but so was him leaving them behind like this.

Leaving her bedroom, the Austrian slowly walked through the long corridor which would lead to the mighty staircases. Opposite the top step was a tall window, with a little windowsill, enough for her to sit on. Resting one hand on her slightly curved baby bump, she moved the other to press against the glass, while she watched over the gardeners working on the newest flower arrangement around the waterlily fountain.

Her boy will play on that lawn, he will hang on the edge of the fountain with his mother worry next to him, just to look at the calmly moving surface of the water rocking the waterlilies. The question she now has to answer for herself is, if she wants Max to join them at the waterlily fountain. If she wants to watch him play catch on the lawn with their son, or if she wants him to come and collect their son to take him away for the weekend. Does she want her family broken and riddled with the pain of separation? Can she bare to see Max walk away with their son over and over again?