Work Text:
Max POV
George was the only one Max had ever loved. Do you know the saying “i loved you even before I was able to love myself”? Well this was true for him. Before he was able to reconcile the broken shattered mess he was inside, he loved George. Why? If you truly loved someone why would you watch them break apart and fall and know this was all caused by you? Max was selfish. What was there to lose anyways? his reputation? That was already in shambles. There was nothing left for Max to lose. Or so he thought, and thought wrongly he did.
Max and George had grown up in very different households.
Max had everything anyone could want, and more. He was the son of a rich business owner who just happened to be the worst father ever. Overlooking the immense pressure thrown onto him even before he could take a step, Jos also happened to enjoy abusing and making him feel unwanted. Instead of being sour and angry about his upbringing, he had grand plans to make the world a better place and create something that would not be destroyed by time or…life. How quickly he had learnt that those were the idealistic dreams of an eight year old. The dreams of hope, care, kindness, and basically love for all things good had been crushed as easily as his ribs.
George had nothing. The child of an ex-convict and a woman who did not want him. Who had never wanted him. He had never been held by warm arms who cared about him, never been the sole recipient of someone’s affection and care. “Life will get better.” How could he be so controlled and unshakeable? At sixteen, George glowed. He was poor, he owned nothing but his gorgeous, marvellous personality.
You need to learn that life isn’t fair. You need to learn that even such a personality can be broken any second. Why did Max abuse George? simple! Max didn’t want George to suffer loss of ideals in adulthood. The faster this idiotic mentality is broken, the faster you adapt and learn. Or thats what he told himself.
“Hi! You’re George right? I’m Alex, your new groupmate!” George was quiet. George was not a person who responded to people. George shot him …a quiet little smile? “Hey…im George. good to be working with you.” Alex. the new boy. The ‘prodigy’ of the school, someone who was ‘nice to everyone’. What was nice anyways? A mask thrown over the undeniable horror of humanity, that’s what it was. “George, what role do you want to take in the project?” Straight to business it was. No need for Max to worry.
They were getting closer. They kept getting closer, despite the odds, despite everything life had thrown at them. And one day, when george pulled Alex aside to tell him something, Max had followed. What about privacy? Well Max did not care. He could not care less about whatever need for privacy anyone had. He then got the pleasure of listening to mr ‘i can perfectly say exactly what i need to to express myself’ stumble and stutter his way though a confession while Alex stood there, head cocked to the side. “and…Alex…i really… like you…” the words Max had been dreading. How was he supposed to break someone who could gain a support system, he asked himself. But in reality, the green eyed monster was back, and he had brought friends.
Sick to the stomach, Max walked away. Affection was disgusting. He never wanted that, he never would let himself experience such weakness. The lies that he told himself formed ropes, twisting tightly around his heart, keeping the fragile thing together. He vowed to do something, anything, that would banish the feeling away forever.
Max was a hard worker. He was precise, diligent and tough. Creating plans and causing hurt came a little too easily for him and now, it was time to begin the plan that would top all plans. George and Alex were cute, anyone could see that. The way Alex made george smile, the way george would silently do things for Alex. One could even say they were a match made in heaven. But all good things must come to an end.
Max was called many things: evil, cruel unfeeling and many many more. No one ever thought he would go this far. Everyone was wrong.
He raised the sharp blade in his hand, the moonlight catching its serrated edge. The look of desperation and fear on Alex’s face was enough to give anyone this level of psychotic pure unfiltered pleasure. “Please…” he let out a broken, sharp whisper, similar, too similar to the child who suffered at the hands of the evil and wicked. Now he was the evil and wicked. Funny how life works isn’t it? One day you're the prey, and the next, you have become the predator. Looking down on the prone figure of Alex, instead of the pitiful boy, the image of his eight-year old self stared back up at him. The young, the innocent, the boy who had aspired to make the world a better place. The boy who had been forced to evolve, to remake himself into something cruel and sharp. The boy who was dead.
“George! I love you so much. I love you so so much. I’m so sorry! I wanted to be there for you. Thank you for making the end so dazzling for me. Please George, live. Be happy, do all the things we promised to do together! I love you George!” the words spilled out of his mouth, the last words he would ever utter. “im truly sorry for this.” He didn't know if he was talking to the child he used to be, the person who would have to live without or this boy who would never get to be a man. The blade caught the light once more, and flashed, like the short spark of life he got to live. How bright were his prospects, like a flame. What a shame it had been extinguished before fulfilling its purpose.
The eyes that sparkled in the light, the eyes that George had loved so dearly, were dull and devoid of any light. The body that had held George so tightly was cold. The lips that had been pressed against George‘s only hours before were chapped. Blood was trickling out of his mouth in a slow enticing flow. Alex was slumped on the ground, limbs splayed in directions the human body should be incapable of twisting. It was a good thing he was dead. “I had to do this, I’m sorry again.” Max called, without a look spared for the cold body behind him.
BREAKING NEWS: UP-AND-COMING PRODIGY FOUND DEAD IN BLACKWOOD FOREST! Alexander Albon found dead this morning in the eastern part of blackwood forest, with stab wounds in his side, chest and head. Investigations are ongoing.
When Max stepped into class the next morning, his eyes immediately snapped to George. The poor, poor boy was sitting there, head on his desk, mourning the only person who had reciprocated his love. A note was clutched in his hands, held close to his heart, the last memory of Alex. The boy who had loved him so. The boy who Max had taken from him. “Alex…you said you would be there for me. You said you were going to marry me. You said you would never leave me, like all the rest did. I loved you. I loved you so much.” The laments, meant for the ears of none, echoed in Max’s ears. The worst part? He felt nothing. Not regret, not remorse, not even triumph. George was broken. Alex was gone. The boy who had been a ray of sunshine in his life was gone.
***
George POV
“What’s left for me? Alex left. everyone leaves me! No one has ever stayed, everyone who has ever loved me is gone. What’s the point in living now?” Standing in the bathroom, with the cubicle locked behind him, George was sobbing. Not tearing up, not wailing, this was something that transcended all descriptors of simply ‘crying’. He was just a tired sixteen year old who was done. done with everything. It would be so easy…so easy to just rest. One quick step and i can finally rest and meet my beloved again. No one else would ever want me after all. He pressed his hands to his lips, as if trying to reach for the last bit of him. Alex’s gentle kiss, an everyday occurrence, something he went out of his way to give George, no matter if he was tired or he was broken. He gave him what he craved so deeply and desperately- affection.
“Hey George, what role do you want to take in the project?” these words weren’t just the usual project groupmate’s words. While yes, he could be imagining it, the words held something deeper, something that told him Alex understood. Alex understood what it was like to be surrounded by people but feel so heartbreakingly alone.
While he was sure that Alex, the prodigy, the boy who would certainly rise to greatness in the future could do better than him, a child of poverty, unloved, unwanted bastard child, damn it. George wanted to keep those warm eyes, sparkling even in the dim classroom light, with him forever. The project was just so easy. Was it the exhilarating feeling of working with someone who didn’t treat him like a lesser being? Or was it the subtle feeling he knew that Alex had experienced the same things as him. Nevertheless, George looked forward to the fifth period of each day.
“Alex, I need to tell you something…” The contact was driving him absolutely out of his mind. The way that Alex would just bump his elbow, the way he would drape his arm around George’s shoulder. It made his heart race, despite knowing it was just something friends did to each other. Okay, maybe george had a crush, and maybe, just maybe, he could wish upon every twinkling star in the night sky (even though Alex would correct him, and tell him that they weren’t stars and they didn’t twinkle) that it might be reciprocated. But who was he kidding? The cream of the crop, the best this nation had, would not be attracted to him, someone who lived in something more like a shed than an actual house.
“Yes?” Alex was too nice, too tolerant of people in general. He let George drag him away to a secluded corner where there was no one around. “Alex…i…i” Alex stood there opposite him, eyebrows furrowed. Was he upset by something? Well, George had to get the words out before it consumed him, body and soul.
“George, are you okay?” No he was not. He was afraid of rejection, but even more afraid of sealing his lips against the flow of words just waiting to be released. Oh yes. He had spent hours upon hours rehearsing for this conversation, but nothing could prepare him for the real thing. Seeing his face up so close was one thing, but confessing to the person who probably got this confession daily was a completely different thing.
“i…really…like you” There it was. Nothing could make George ‘unsay’ the words now. If Alex rejected, as much as George would say he’s okay, he wouldn’t be. The only person who had been genuine to him, the only person who had treated him as more than a wall.
“Alex, i like how you go out of you way to make me feel comfortable, i like how you decided to sit next to me during lunch because you saw i was alone even though you had a full table of better friends. i like how easy you are to talk to and its okay if you dont like me but i really needed to say this and-”
“George?” Alex’s voice cut him off, gripping his wrist. “Alex?” There was nothing else for him to do, other than to stare into the eyes of the one who had just called his name. Alex took a step towards george and pulled him into a hug. George would never be able to go back from that moment. “I really like you too!” Alex liked him back? Or was he just too kind and nice to reject someone? He hesitantly took his hand and immediately Alex laced their fingers together.
Now Alex was gone. The person who had spoken up for George every time someone insulted him. The person who invited him to his own home when he found out what kind of ‘house’ george was living in. Gone. He could never come back, never grip his hand tightly again, never pull him in for a tight embrace again. What was the point of continuing anyways? he was bullied in school, he was unloved by his parents, and when he had found someone who loved his as much as he loved them, the person had been taken away. He had been strong for too long now. “i just want a fucking break! is that too hard to ask for?”
‘Alls well that ends well, but im in the new hell*’
George Russell had given up.
Did you know that about half of the suicide victims get the idea and then act on it within twenty minutes of the idea formed? Good for george, not so good for him that the school had a high roof i suppose. As if he had been enchanted in all the wrong ways, he moved towards the stairwell, not thinking, not caring.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Twenty two steps to the roof.
The second he stepped onto the roof, the blinding sun caught his eyes. The roof was a slab of concrete, about eight metres off the ground, with little to nothing on its surface
He couldn’t do it though. Not before he did one last thing. “Alex, i promised to be with you forever, and one day hoped to seal it for eternity. I know, I know you would disapprove of this entire thing and say we’re too young and things like that, but i hope you appreciate the romantic gesture nonetheless. It’s not official, there’s no officiant, there’s no witness, but that makes it feel more like us doesn't it?” Tears glimmered at the corners of his eyes, sparkling under the sun setting its downward arc. He had to say this. He had to say this before he took the step.
“I, George William Russell, take you, Alexander Albon Ansusinha,” The sobs started the second he said that name. The name he held close to his heart, the name he whispered to himself while crying to sleep. He had to believe. He had to believe that Alex was still there for him. The sobs started to muffle his words as he swallowed the lump in his throat. “to be my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward;” George sunk to his knees, eyes closed, tears streaming down his cheeks. "For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish,” His voice had almost completely been choked up by sobs, as the setting sun shone onto him, crouched on the concrete. Almost poetic wasn’t it? George looked up, if he looked closely enough, he could almost see Alex, standing there next to him, as he always had. All that was left was for him to say the last part.
“till death do us part” death had done them part at sixteen, what a cruel joke it was, “Alex i love you so much, you’ve been a ray of sunshine in this boy’s miserable life. You made these last months so very much the best of my life. I’m sorry i had to do this, but I really cannot live without you,” the truest words, the words he only dared to say too late.
There. He had done what he must.
“Five. Four. Three. Two. One.”One step was all it took. One step to finally get rest. One step to meet the person who loved him. One step more. “I love you Alex!” And so he did. One step off the roof.
The fall wasn’t even long, but to George it felt like eternity. Someone hit the replay button for his life within the first few seconds of falling. He got to witness being the child who had to live in that shed with the mother who had despised him and turned to alcohol. He got to witness being called a bastard child, an unwanted baby all over again. He got to witness begin bullied by Max again, being called names and kicked. The ground was approaching, and soon he could see every blade of grass in the well kept field. and the best memory of them all, George and Alex lying in a field, Alex’s head in George’s lap as he braided a flower crown. That expression on his face was one George could never get out of his mind no matter how hard he tried. The unmistakable love in that smile, in those sparkling eyes. Then Alex pulled him in for a kiss and his world had done a million spins and loops, leaving him wide eyed and flustered. As someone described as cool, calm and put-together, he was the complete opposite when faced by…this.
And there was the ground. And there was George.
The roof was not exactly as high and he had expected, so with the impact came the blinding pain. Slamming his head on the hard ground, he saw one last memory. It seemed that his brain had saved the best for last.
“George, you would never leave me would you?” Alex was sitting with him on the terrace of his expansive house.
“I’m never leaving, never leaving forever.”He would never leave the person who loved him so much. He wrapped his arms around Alex, savouring the feeling of someone warm and solid and… there.
“George…i…i” Alex stuttered, something that was foreign to George. Alex had always been so filled with excitement, with anticipation, that he rarely hesitated or stammered.
“Alex? Are you sick?” George pressed his hand against his forehead, but Alex absentmindedly waved it away. “Nothing like that, it's just that I've never actually loved someone like I love you. you're the first person I can imagine myself actually having a future with. Like i don’t want to play around with anything, i don’t want to live life without you being there as my partner forever,”
“ Alex…i love you so much too and i really want to spend my future with you, whether it be long or short” George kissed the top of his head and Alex leaned his head onto his shoulder. This was when they were unburdened, when they had each other and believed they would forever. The memory faded to black.
George lay there, in the middle of the grass field, blood seeping out of his…everywhere. The blood flow was so thick, so red that it covered the grass easily, turning it crimson. Flowers seemed to sprout all around him but maybe it was just his eyes, blurring more each second. With what may have been his last actions, he leaned to the left and stretched out his hand. On the threshold of death and life, he could almost see his…husband lying next to him with that beautiful smile he loved so much. “Wait for me Alex… i’m coming” he gasped out, the last words he would ever speak. His chest rose and fell for the last time, something shaky and soft and let go of any control he had over this body. His body mirrored his beloved, with blood seeping out of him and eyes glassy, no more life within those light blue eyes.
The sun set, the golds and pinks of the setting illuminating his body, as if glowing from the inside out. How ironic wasn’t it? Alex’s favourite time of the day, the sunset and his favourite person. A fitting way to mark the closing of their chapter.
George Russell and Alexander Albon. They had promised to be together for as long as they were alive. Now, they could be together forever, united in death.
***
Max POV
“look at what you’ve done now!” Max was sitting in his room prison cell, overlooking the scene that was spread out in front of him. George lying there on the grass, dead. His love was dead. The only person he metaphorically had and it was all Max's fault. “i just fuck everything up don’t i?” He slammed his head into the table, savouring the feeling of hurt. After all, he caused so much hurt to everyone around him, he deserved every cut, every stab and every slap! It was better if he had never been born, never grew up to hurt innocents and as the cycle came back to bite him, eventually hurt himself. It would be better if he just died. No one would know, no one would care. He could just walk off the face of the earth and no one would even notice.
“Hey where’s Max?” “who knows! good riddance to that idiot” Max slid his hand down his face, leaving trails of blood on his face like scars, marring his smooth skin. I only cause more pain to everyone around me and now George is dead! His inner voice screamed at him, a piercing, sharp sound that left his ears ringing. He was cursed it seemed, he was as cursed as any princess. Anything and anyone he loved would disappear as soon as he touched them. His touch was poison, he was damaged in ways so profound everyone wrote it off as personality. Max had been a kind child, someone fiercely loyal and sweet. Then Jos Verstappen stepped in. His son had to be a machine, fulfilling all of his dreams for him. So make him into a machine Jos did. Abusing him, calling him names, telling him to be kind was to be weak. Max buried his head in his hands, the memory of pain splitting across his ribs rekindling with a sharp sear.
“Max Emilian Verstappen! What is this?” Little Max stared resolutely at the ground, determined not to let the tears well up. “You are a verstappen. A B+ is not good enough.” “Dad…it was a hard test and everyo- ” His plea was cut off by a sound of flesh on flesh. Jos hit him once, twice and a third time. “ who told you you could talk back? and you aren’t everyone. Do better next time.” He slapped max once more on the cheek, leaving the ten year old to sink to the floor, tears trickled down in an enticing flow, like the slow bits of hope draining out of him, never to be seen again.
The self hate welled up in him, leading him to slowly slide off the chair and curl up into a ball on the floor. Time to deal with the emotions and self hate in the only way he knew: physical hurt. Max grabbed his trusty pocket knife, used for almost everything. He used it to cut packets open, cut his fingernails and some more messy things. It was a good thing he lived by himself, if not others would ask why there were splatters of red on the floor. While the blade on the pocketknife was in no way large, it was big enough to cause small cuts in places no one would be able to tell. The cuts were skin deep and surface level, so he was able to shrug it off, but as time went on, the cuts started to scar. He wanted it to after all. There should be a mark of the hurt he had caused. He had a ritual for doing this, as cursed as the idea seemed, the repetition calmed him. He cleaned his blade, the gleam of the metal reflecting the artificial light he had affixed to the ceiling. The room was a small one, with a bed, a table and a few chairs. that was all he had, all he deserved. Max picked up the blade, slicing a cut in his arm, the blood spilling out of the thin wound and stinging pain that came with it making him feel better in an unexplainable way.
He knelt on the floor, the blood tracing patterns down his arms and chest in an alluring way, the red contrasting sharply with his pale chest. The usual feeling of comfort was just not there. He had to hurt more, more, more to feel like a human. He continued cutting himself, faster and faster. The blade disappeared to its hilt in his arm, then he drew it out, covered in crimson red. He had nothing and no one to live for. Daniel had left him for university, Charles hated him, he never even had George. Despite being surrounded by people everywhere, he had no true friends. His arms covered in cuts and scratches, he pulled open a drawer with a relatively new book inside, wanting to write something, anything. The pages were still crisp and fresh, and the binding had not been broken yet.
Page 1: How to kill Alex Albon
what i need:
-knife
-get him alone in the dark
-kidnap him??
(oh and find a way for george not to notice right then)
There was no doubt. It was all his handwriting. He was that psychotic. He really wanted to kill someone just to make another feel sad. He really did kill Alex, the innocent, loveable person who didn’t do anything wrong to him! He needed to disappear now before he caused anymore hurt to anyone. Daniel should have let him die when he had the chance.
Page 2: Final plan
-I know that George and Alex sleep in the same bed, but Alex sometimes has insomnia (but George sleeping next to him helps him) so when he gets out of bed I'll put a gag over his mouth and pull him outside. I’ll just stab him then i guess then I’ll go back to sleep
-george isn’t too light of a sleeper so its alright
Max stared at his handwriting from where he sat on the floor, the words on it damning him forever. He plotted to kidnap a person and stab him. Worse of all, he spoke of it so lightly. Taking a life. He deserved to be stabbed and shot and killed slowly, someone, anyone dissecting him slowly. He didnt deserve a quick death. He deserved to bleed out slowly, excruciatingly, feeling every bit of pain. Max got up, dazed and tears spilling out of his eyes. He needed it to end, all the pain and suffering the world brought. The need to rest. The need for it to be over.
But first, he had to apologise. Picking up a few sheets of paper, he quickly scribbled notes to the ones he had to thank for everything they had done for him.
Dear daniel,
Thank you so so much for being my only friend. I'm sorry for everything I've put you through these few years of being my friend. Live well and take care of yourself.<3
love,
max
Dear charles,
I'm sorry for causing this fight and all the ones before. It was never you, it was all me. Thank you for being there for me when I needed it most. Go get your Carlos, I'm rooting for you and I wish you all the best in life.
love,
max
It was time.
He walked to the drawer where he kept all his kitchen knives. Pulling out a long, sharp blade, he ran his finger down the side as he looked at the narrow slice it had made in his flesh, exactly one bead of scarlet blood dripped down his wrist. One slit of the throat and it was over. Finally it could be over. Finally he could be without burden, without past, without pain. Nothing could ever hurt him more anyways. He was an unfeeling beast, heart locked in a prison of stone and metal, protecting him from ever having it broken again. He was a glass figurine that had been dropped one too many times. Broken beyond repair**
Squish. Squish. He forcefully pulled the knife out of his chest, and as if he had pressed a button, the blood started flowing out of his body.
He became very aware of each muscle in his chest. The sharp, sharp blade was embedded in his chest, cutting through layers of muscles, tissue, arteries. He let out a shaky exhale. It didnt hurt. He tried to get on his knees. It didn't hurt. He said a few random sentences in dutch. It didnt hurt. Then as if the pain dam had broken, everything hit him in one go. The pain that made him feel as if he had been forcefully cut into half. Everything was too hot and too cold at the same time, the skin around it feeling like it was being stuffed into the oven like the witch from Hansel and Gretel.
Small, surface cuts were littered on his arms and legs and a deep wound was carved into his chest. Blood was spurting out of the incision, staining the carpet with dark pools of blood. On his knees, Max leaned forwards, the raw pain almost causing him to black out, vision turning spotty and blur. “I…” every word hurt, every shallow gasp of air causing him to curl up further into himself. His heart was palpitating, the muscles contracting desperately to provide enough blood for survival. the wound would not let it, determined to drain him of enough blood that he could cease to exist anymore. “am…sorry” No one would or could hear it, but it was enough for him. The words of remorse were enough. He was sorry to the younger self he was that he had given up on the dreams, sorry to all the people he had hurt, and most importantly, sorry to George and Alex for destroying their lives completely. His vision turned black at the edges, and spread like watercolours. The constant ache in his chest, a result of the world, would be gone, never to be seen again.
Max’s head hit the stained carpet with a thud. The young man had a slight smile on his face, despite the scene around him. The facade was gone, the toughness was gone. It was just a boy lying on the carpet, eyes closed, mouth curved upwards slightly. Dead.
And that, the story of three boys, who fell in love, trouble and tragedy was brought to a close. Their stories would be intertwined forever, the chains of fate interlocking them and tying all their stories together for eternity.
the end