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Max has always been a boy. Maybe he didn’t have all the parts, but his parents never made a fuss about it. Max wanted short hair, Max got it. Max wanted baggy clothes, Max got it. It made it easier for racing as well, but Max kept people at arms lengths, his only fear in life was being found out.
Maxime Emilia Verstappen became Max Emilian Verstappen, pretty much as soon as he could voice his disgust for his girl name. His father had no issue signing him up as Max, ticking the boy’s category or defending his son. He always wanted a son. Max is his son. He’d treat his son exactly the way his father did him, with a lot of tough love, but endless support. Between races, his father made sure Max never missed a doctor’s appointment and then he finally got to drive in F3 and then F1 and all of his dreams were coming true, but being a high-performance athlete prevented him from getting treatment. The recovery of surgeries would be too long and Max would lose precious time, he didn’t have. Hormone treatment wasn’t specifically classed as performance enhancing drugs, but Max didn’t want to risk it, not when he so close. So, he sucked it up and dealt with it. It was this part of the sport he hated, he just wanted to race and coming out would destroy everything he’s worked for his whole life. He’s always been a “whatever it takes” kind of person, but it didn’t make it easier. It got to points where he just wanted to quit. He could never understand why people were so obsessed with his private life, let alone with what was in his pants. At least now he has Brad, his trainer, to deal with it too.
Only his bosses, his race engineer and his personal trainer know. Not all of them have always known, but things escalated after his first full year at RedBull and Max had to address it. His father was boiling with rage, for once not directed at Max. His father’s rage never extended to Max as a person, only his racing and Max understood that.
After the whole incident with his previous trainer, who didn’t understand how some parts of Max’s body functioned, Brad was hired, based on his experience working with trans people and his varying degrees which gave him the knowledge to provide medical care if Max needed it, without involving a doctor in countries where being a trans male could prove problematic.
Early in the 2018 season, Daniel found out about it. Max was on his period and crying. He was wearing only a pair of tight boxers with a pad and Brad’s hoodie that fell loosely around his body. He had his legs curled up to his chest on the cough. Brad was trying his best to wash the blood out Max’s fireproof. Max had forgotten to change his tampon before the session and had leaked during the session. It was the first day of his period and Max hated it. It was a cruel reminder that he was born in the wrong body.
Daniel barged into his motorhome without knocking and that was usually okay, but not this time. Brad drops everything and hurries to step in front of Max, ‘not a good time, mate.’. Daniel had frowned and looked around him at Max, ‘what’s going on?’. Max sighed, he actually liked his teammate and considered him a friend, but he always dreaded this part, ‘It’s okay, Brad. I was born a girl and basically, I still get periods, I hate it, but it happens and I leaked a little during the session. I’m fine,’ Max rambled out, wanting to get it over with. Daniel looked disgusted, ‘you’re a girl?’. Max wanted to hide, beg Brad to make Daniel leave but he didn’t instead he held Daniel’s gaze and frowned, ‘No, I mean, biologically, but no, I’m not a girl.’. Daniel laughed and for the first time since they met Max hated his laugh, ‘yeah sure’, Daniel walked out, leaving them there. Max cried and pathetically stuck his arms out to Brad, like a little girl who needed rescuing, that thought only made Max feel worse. Brad held him in a tight hug, long after he calmed down, reassuring Max he would make sure that it would not happen again and that there was nothing wrong with him.
There are more memories like the one of Daniel that he dredges up in moments like this, when suddenly his body feels fat and his boobs stick out and he wants to claw off his skin. Like that time, the team was forced to demote Pierre after he made transphobic comments or that time when Daniel had told him, that it was a waste of a pretty girl that he was so aggressive, that one still stung like Daniel only said it a few seconds ago. He rips the fireproof shirt back over his head as tears start to fall. Alex never knew and Checo, the Mexican family man, sure as hell isn’t going to find out. In the end, everyone in the racing world was the same.
As a world champion some weight lifted off his shoulders and some days he wished he could just be a little more like Lewis, wear a pride flag on his helmet, the trans flag, off course. Today those thoughts were far from his mind. He knew he was close to his period and it didn’t make the dysphoria any easier. The shit performance in quali wasn’t doing much for his confidence either.
He tortures himself with what-if’s and painful memories, even if both Daniel and Pierre have since apologised and educated themselves and are now two of Max’s fiercest allies. Max choses to ignore all of that as he wallows in his frustrations and pain. He knows there is a solution. He had to act fast, Brad will not approve. He just hopes, for once, maybe Brad won’t be able to tell the difference between his sports bra and his binder.
Max knows it’s wrong when he puts his binder on before the race, but he’s not feeling like himself and as soon as he pulls the fire proof shirt on, he feels better than he did a few minutes ago as he frantically threw them off. Max knows it’s just because of his period staring in a few days and he’s glad it’s almost summer break. Brad comes in and he frowns at Max’s tearstained cheeks. Max sighs, ‘you know my cycle better than I do, don’t frown at me’, he says quietly. Brad nods, ‘hug?’. Brad had been a blessing since the day Max met him. He always knows what Max needs. Max doesn’t answer, he’s already in Brad’s arms. Brad strokes his back and tuts, ‘after the race your binder comes straight off, promise me?’. Max sighs, ‘yeah, promise. I’m having a shit weekend.’. Brad gently pats his back, ‘you can do it, Max.’. Max nods.
Brad was right. Max wins. Everything is brilliant, his team especially and Max can’t stop smiling. Brad is relieved when he finally gets Max alone in his driver’s room, after he’s done with the media. ‘that’s not straight after the race’, Brad mutters to him as he starts helping Max out of his race suit. Max smiles, ‘but I won.’. Brad sighs, ‘I knew you would.’. Max smiles, ‘no one else did. I didn’t.’. brad smirks, ‘well, I’m the best and so are you, not a difficult prediction to make.’. Max’s smile grows wider and he lets Brad pull the fireproof shirt over his head, his race suit still hanging lose around his waist. Brad helps him take of the binder and it’s actually a little bit of a relief. He steps out of his suit and then his leggings. In just his boxers he walks to the shower. ‘shit’, he mutters as he pulls down his underwear. Brad is by his side quick, soft hand on the small of his back. Max doesn’t have to say anything, Brad already noticed the stain as soon as he walked up to Max. ‘Take a shower. I’ll get your clothes’, Brad shoves him a little towards the shower before grabbing Max’s boxers and leaving.
Max relaxes under the water, despite the constant cramps that he’s now fully aware off, no longer able to blame it on post-race aches with the adrenaline of the race subsiding fast. Brad comes back after a few minutes with Max’s favourite oversized hoodie, his softest sports bra, boxers, a pad and wide-fitting shorts. Max gets out of the shower and quickly dries himself in a race against the clock not to drop blood everywhere. He manages, like he always does, with a lot of internal screaming. Max walks out of the small bathroom with his hoodie pulled over his hands and pouting lips. Brad chuckles at him from the small sofa, ‘come here, baby boy.’. It’s a silly and very private nickname, but it always cheers Max up. He curls into Brad’s side and lets his cunning hands rub soothing circles on his back and belly.
Max is trying to stay awake, when there is a knock at his door. ‘just a minute’, Brad says as the door swings open. ‘oh sorry’, Checo mutters, trying to close the door again, but somehow failing and ending inside of the room, with the door closed instead, ‘just wanted to say congrats. That was a very impressive drive today.’. Max sighs, ‘yeah, thanks. I’m tired and sore. Brad is very good with his hands’, it’s not what Max wants to say and whatever he does say comes out weird. Brad laughs, ‘He meant to say that he had some tense muscles and I’m just doing my job, while also being a good friend and giving him a cuddle.’. Max always likes the way Brad is so casual about all of it, never once outing him not even on accident.
Checo smiles, ‘I’ll leave you to it.’. Checo turns to leave and his eyes fall onto the pack of pads that is next to Brad’s backpack. His eyes dart between Max and the pads a few times. Max feels panic rise up in his chest. Brad tenses a little. ‘oh’, Checo lets out, ‘I’m sorry again. Really, but it’s okay, Max. I won’t tell anyone.’. Max lets out a surprised noise and pushes up a little, off Brad’s chest, ‘you’re okay with it? That I’m a trans man.’. Checo smiles, ‘it’s okay. We are a team, Max. A good one. It doesn’t matter to me. Only that we are good friends and we race, that matters.’. Max gets up, tears welling up in his eyes, ‘I’m going to give you a hug. That means a lot to me.’. Checo pulls him closer and pats his back, ‘thank you for trusting me. I am sorry again.’. Max shakes his head, ‘thank you for being the best teammate I’ve ever had.’. Checo smiles, ‘I will leave you to your treatment.’.
He walks out and Max turns back to Brad, who looks as much relieved as he looks surprised, ‘did not see that one coming, but I’m so glad I was wrong’, he mutters out. Max sighs, ‘yeah, same’, he curls back into Brad’s side. ‘I’m sorry for leaving your pads out, baby boy. It was careless. I should have known better’, Brad exhales sharply. Max shakes his head, ‘it’s okay. We should really start locking the door though.’. Brad chuckles and goes back to gently rubbing Max’s belly. They stay like that for awhile until Brad decides it is time to go because Max is actually starting to fall asleep and he isn’t about to carry him out of here.
Max feels relief wash over him as the cool evening breeze hits him. He won the race and Checo knew and was okay with it, immediately. Today might have started out shit, but it ended great. He shoves Brad a little, ‘hey, I won that race, from P10’, he exclaims. Brad laughs, ‘yes you did!’.
Max lets this feeling settles deep inside his chest and entertains the thought that maybe just maybe, not everyone is the same. Maybe one day he’ll put the pride flag in his helmet design, maybe not this season, but the next season as his standard design maybe. For now, he lets his joy overwhelm him. He lets himself accept his team’s praise; he basks in it and he appreciates Brad, who sticks by his side. This is what makes it all worth it; this family of people equally as passionate about racing as he is.