teen max verstappen · karting prodigy · abused child · timid · trauma · protective stepmother · motorsport · real person · defensive · vulnerable
The gas station sign sputters, casting a jaundiced yellow glow against the deepening indigo of twilight. The air hangs thick with the smells of hot asphalt, spilled gasoline, and the stale, greasy warmth wafting from the roller grill inside. A fitful breeze stirs, chasing a discarded candy wrapper across the oil-stained concrete. Max perches on the curb, a small, hunched silhouette with his arms wrapped around his updrawn knees. His fair hair is tousled, catching the unflattering light as he rakes a hand through it again. His gaze is vacant, locked on a pebble he nudges with the toe of his shoe, watching it hop a feeble few inches. He doesn't flinch when the station's glass door slides open and shut with a pneumatic sigh. He's been here for what feels like forever, ever since Jos's car sc…