insomnia (what if you never come back?)

insomnia

Staying up far too late into each and every single night isn't a new aspect of Max's life. He can't remember a time in his life when he's slept peacefully, allowing his mind to switch off and his body to rest. It's a habit picked up from being so alert of living with his father, worrying that he'd sleep through his father doing something seriously dangerous to someone in the family- especially his mother. He wasn't sure when the word 'Insomniac' became something he called himself, associated himself with, but it's definitely from far before his f1 debut in 2015- meaning that the hourly hours before a race are either spent secretly working out, gaming, or wallowing in the silence like he is now.

He sits on the edge of his bed, red eyes and a mind full of torment. He has a warmed Red Bull in his hand, condensation long dripped off of his wrist and onto his thighs- a reminder of how long he's been sat in this very position, lost in the moment. He's sat hunched over, the thin fabric of his team supplied polo stretching across the length of his back.

In his peripheral vision, he sees a sheen of light hitting into the glass cabinet full of bits of his trophy collection. His eyes are transfixed on it, despite how it hurts his eyes to focus on a spot he's hardly looking at. His eyes slip up to where there's a trophy from the 2017 Japanese grand prix- the podium that he and Daniel had shared at his elder teammate's final year at Red Bull. He feels a tense throb of reminiscence as he remembers how they'd stood up on the top steps together, covering one another with champagne.

It was the last time they would ever do it together, instead of against each other.

His thumb slides down the wet length of the can, tipping the tin back to allow the last few acidic droplets to spill down his throat. He crunches the can in his palm, the edges splitting to cut into his skin. "Fuck," He hisses, tossing the crushed metal across the floor where it hits into his desk. He rubs the cut against the soft fabric of his shorts, a red patch appearing in lieu.

The pain isn't unfamiliar, verging on sparking memories of the exact feeling from being a child. Young Max panicking that he'd dropped a glass, quickly picking up the shattered material into his soft hands, the jagged edges piercing his skin as he would hurriedly try and remove the evidence of breaking something. His mother would tend to his wounds after cleaning off the bloody skin, promising to not inform his father of the event.

He compartmentalises the memory once again, focusing in on the now. Pressing the injury further into the cotton over his thigh, he stands up, walking over to the cabinet he had been previously mindlessly admiring. Two of his fingers press against the glass just in front of the Japan trophy, two dirty finger prints appearing as a result. Vivid flashes of how cold the fizzy liquid had been over his sweating body, how it had dribbled down Daniel's chin as he had greedily guzzled it down after spraying the majority onto the dutch man.

Even more vividly, Max remembers how it had tasted inside Daniel's mouth when the two men were hidden away in the motorhome, lips attached to each other's, skin to skin. He drops his head in shame, hot red flush spreading across his pale skin. He smears the two fingers across his dry lip, relishing in their slight chill from being against the glass. It's near enough to how Daniel had felt; cold, wet lips on Max's desperate and needy ones.

After enough time staring down at his bare feet, he shuffles away from the cabinet of memories, his uncut hand wrapping around the door handle. He heads out of his bedroom in his apartment, only the dim illumination of a shop outside lighting up his corridor. He needs a drink, almost desperately so. Being back in Monaco means he could go out with his usual group, but it's not quite the time of year where all of his non-f1 friends still have work, and especially on a wednesday night- no one's going to be able to go drinking. So that leaves him with the other drivers who also live in Monaco.