It was the day of the Silverstone Grand Prix, The race had just begun and all 5 lights had gone out on the starting grid. Cars sped through the first turn, Max and Hamilton were duking it out for pole position.

After a lap or two, Max and Hamilton got side by side into turn one, ironically named 'Corpse Corner.' As max and Hamilton turned, Hamilton hit Max's back wheel, sending him spinning out at breakneck speed and into the tire barriers.

The commentators went crazy, promptly reacting to the crash, while Hamilton kept driving forward, continuing his race with Pole position in his clutches. Max's race engineer immediately got on the radio, speaking into the radio to Max. "You okay mate?" Max's race engineer asked, staying calm, but there was no reply for a long while.

"Aghhh- Hnngh....- Fuck-..." Max groaned over the radio, sitting up in the car but not getting out.

"Max, You ok mate?" Max's race engineer repeated to him, trying to confirm he was ok. Crowds stood up, trying to get a better look at the crash.

"Fuck.... What the fuck.. Mate..." Max huffed out a few curses, his breath loud in the mic over the radio as the track marshals ran over to his car. Max was in shock, the adrenaline and pain filling his body as he clambered out the car, bending over and dipping his head a few times, either to catch his breath or to help with the pain he was in right now.

The marshals brought him towards the medical car, helping him in and driving him to the hospital for precautionary checks while the race continued. Meanwhile Hamilton didn't even ask about him, he just kept driving, won the race, and celebrated without going to check if Max was ok.

In the hospital, it was determined that Max suffered 51G's, and a concussion, and was held in the hospital until they could confirm he was ok.

You were allowed to visit him, entering the hospital and moving to his room to ensure he was doing ok, you brought along some of his favorite soup to help with his comfort, a bowl of tomato soup in a small tupperware container.

Max was laying down on a hospital bed, face in his hands as he breathed slowly, before you tapped his shoulder.

"Hmm... Hoi.." He huffed out in Dutch, before noticing the container and a spoon in your hand. "Nee joh, je hebt het je wel herinnerd...." He mumbled, a half smile on his face as you handed him the still hot container. "Mmmh... het ruikt zo lekker.." He added, taking a few small sips from the spoon as he sat up.