Orange Juice ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

✦✴❀~1~❀✴✦

Somewhere deep inside him something has never changed, something never will. It stirs his chest, festers, yearns. Up until 4 months ago he would have drowned it in wine, funny how things change. Very funny indeed. 

The dream is real, fuzzy around the edges but etched by memory. The hotel room is blue with grey buffed softly at the edges just enough, his phone is face down on the end table, screen lighting softly with whatever forgotten browser was open. His eyes track the fly that circles the ceiling fan (which is off) he focuses on it so much that the rest of the room seems to freeze in time. 

Max is beside him, 20 and small, still lanky and acne filled. He hasn't yet filled out, hasn't begun to see Daniel how everyone else does, washed up. He still tells him how amazing he is, how wonderfully he commands the car, blows so much sunshine up his ass that Daniel is partially convinced that even Max is oblivious to the very obvious crush he harbors. But it's better than the bullshit the reporters tell him, the comments Lando makes. Most of the time Daniel ignores Max’s little crush, pretends to not notice the way Max looks to him for approval, the way his eyes find him in every room. Max is young, Daniel is his first real teammate, and it's just a crush. But in moments like this he lets himself sit with the realization, lets his mind toy with the possibility. He tells himself it's just for fun, he just likes the attention Max gives him. He likes feeling like he is still important and not some fucking old man. 

Max is laid out like a plank, fast asleep atop the bed covers, light hasn't yet begun to creep through the yellow curtains at the corner of the room. Daniel remembers Max had won last night, and when he had insisted that he could make it back to his room Daniel had taken him back to his own room regardless. It isn't anything nefarious, don't get it twisted, Daniels just being a good friend. Regardless of Max’s crush, Daniel hasn't ever changed his view towards Max, even if he is lying. He knows it would never work and he doesnt like Max like that, he just likes to be with him, and make him laugh and watch his eyes shine, and make him smile, and make him giggle and fuck. 

But when Max hadn't questioned it, just flopped down on Daniel's hotel bed with a childish “oof” drunk and buzzed with a win, beginning to snore only three minutes later. Daniel feels his heart swell again. He would never let Max know, he will continue to play dumb, to reject him, won't allow himself this, whatever this is. 

He has this dream often, and it's safe, warm and pleasant. So he will indulge, he will allow himself a look, the warmth that teases him as he watches Max lay peaceful. This night in particular is one that he remembers coolly, it's just before things went bad at Recbull, before things strained them too much, before Max actually confessed to him, before Daniel had to say no. 

When he wakes up he desperately tries to grasp at the memory, to lock it away, but it dissolves itself at the edges where the waking mind replaces it with new important thoughts for the day ahead. He presses a much too soft hand to his eyes, thumb and index pressing sleep from them as he lets his bones adjust, a phantom pain in his joints. 

He stands, stretches, and makes his way to the ensuite bathroom, ignoring the door before he takes his morning wizz. It's different when you live alone, bare feet pad across the tile as he moves to the kitchen, focusing in on the hiss of the coffee maker as he patiently waits. 

Coffee in hand he slides the porch door open before taking in the rain and slamming it closed. Just his luck, the sofa will have to be do this morning. His house is quiet, empty, and when he sits, sprawled out on his grey suede sofa, opening his phone for the morning scroll, it's the most unlikely message that catches his eye. 

It's from Max, and the irony of that isn't lost on Daniel. Sure, they message but after Daniel left and sometime after rehab he had stopped responding. Daniel grimaces at the amount of texts he has left on read from Max. Deep down he isn't sure why he stopped responding. It makes the situation all the more odd, Max had taken the hint just a few months ago, and things had fully gone quiet, until… now? He swipes open the chat, letting his thumb hover over the textbar.  

Daniel, I'm hosting a party on Friday. My home, 11:00. 

It's void of any friendliness, not that Daniel expects any, but the underlying tones of the message are clear. He hasn't specified which home he means, because he knows Daniel knows that too. He puzzles on it for a moment, it isn't Max’s birthday, nor is it a gender reveal or any other special event to Daniel's knowledge. Max is much too old now to just be throwing some gettogether, and so a large part of him tells him not to go, to let this relationship die. 

Its an entire emotional crisis that Daniel 100% did not sign up for, escpeacilly not at 8 in the fucking morning, but Daniel isnt completely dense. He knows this is most likely Max’s last attempt at anything between them and maybe somehow that's enough to push him to buy a plane ticket. He won't dwell on why, whatever prompts him has nothing to do with these dreams, has nothing to do with the pit of loneliness in his life right now. Nothing. At. All. 

It isn't like Daniel hasn't been doing anything, he has gone on dates, parties, the club (only once, when Blake has his birthday there). But he also is sober now, and that changes a lot socially. It certainly doesn't explain this emptiness, doesn't explain the dreams, but maybe this will help. Because he would endure any amount of pain to watch Max again, even if he knows Max has lost those feelings, has lost that admiration and adoration he once had for Daniel. Even if Daniel knows he is the reason why. 

It's a large decision to make at 8 in the morning, Michael tells him not to, Blake asks if he is manic, Michelle threatens to come over, and his mother tells him “whatever makes you happy honeybadger” which is the nicest way of her telling him that she also doesn't approve. His therapist, because yes he has one, gives him one clinical look before scribbling down what Daniel can only imagine is, client thinks they are ready to confront the place where their old life went to shit and they had to be fucking hospitalized. Also, the client had another wet dream about his ex teammate. Nonetheless, he goes, because he has to, and he isn't even sure why Darek (his therapist) isn't more proud of him, he goes on and on about coming face to face with Daniel’s anxieties, and going to Monaco? There isn't any anxiety that going there doesn't check off. 

✦✴❀~2~❀✴✦

Daniel hates airports, he has had his fair share of them by now and he would honestly rather take a ferry to go anywhere intercontinental ever again. Especially now when he settles for a commercial flight assuming that he would be just as easily hidden. The airport is full of people and the whole ordeal makes him fundamentally pissy. Regardless, he arrives in Monaco 32 hours later. 

He hasn't been to his apartment here in some time, and he cringes at just how close and uncomfortable the surrounding area has become. He remembers streets, shops, bars, all things he wishes he could forget. This place leaves a sour taste across his tongue, and his knees shake a bit when the driver drops him off at his complex. The housecleaning service he ordered has been keeping the place tidy, but it remains how he left it, much too modern, much too showy. He half expects to see the bottles when he opens the door. The place is pristine, empty and void of personality, it smells suffocatingly of bleach and cleaning products. It takes him a moment to realize that his cupboards and fridge are going to be empty, and he is foolish for thinking they would be filled with food. Nice one Dan. 

For a moment he is grateful for his disregard of a diet now, it takes him 10 minutes to select the website of some fancy pizza place and only 20 more for it to arrive steaming and cheesy at his doorstep. His stomach rumbles happily as he tears into the pizza piece by piece. His mother would ridicule him for not using a plate, but Daniel finds he couldn't care less. The slices are caloric and greasy and make his tastebuds erupt with delight. It will only add to the layer of fluff he has, but in reality Daniel isn't too worried. When he goes to bed in the much too large bedroom of his which is entirely unfamiliar to him now, he is greeted with a much less lovely dream. 

This time the room is red, the edges curl in the same grey but the feeling is all wrong. Max is in front of him, young and mad and he is crying, his fists pressed so tight beside him Daniel in any other situation would find it humorous. He looks so much like the 18 year old boy he had met so long ago. His voice cracks as he shakes with another snotty sob. 

Daniel remembers this, and the whole feeling turns rancid. 

Christian had told Max about Daniel leaving, Max had been furious. Suddenly it didnt matter that Daniel had a whole plan to tell him, because leave it to fucking Christan to fuck that over too. 

“Max I-”

“Dont even fucking try Daniel”

His voice had been sharp, sharper than Baku, his accent stretching his name like he always did. Except this time it didn't make Daniel smile at all. 

“You couldn't even try to tell me before anyone else knew?” 

Daniel's heart sinks all over again.

“Maxie I was going to”

“When. After you told Christian, after you told Matt, after you told GP?”

His voice pauses, then breaks into a squeak. It shatters Daniel. It isn't Max, it makes Daniel think of the boy who had begged him not to tell anyone about Jos. The boy who wanted so badly to pretend everything was normal. 

“Why”

Daniel's throat is too full for any words to slip out, it's like he is fighting against molasses. Its a memory, and so it doesnt matter what Daniel wants to say, because he says the same thing every fucking time. 

“I- I just, mate I needed to try something new.”

It's a lie. 

“Thats bullshit,” Max’s voice snaps. “You love it here.”

“I do,” He struggles, begging deep down to wake up. “I just-”

“Then why.”

He can't look at Max, he looks anywhere but at him, anywhere but those deep blue eyes. The silence stretches even farther now. 

“Is it because of me?” 

Daniel looks up then, startled.

“What?”

Max’s voice is quieter now, but shaking, Daniel hates it more. Wake up. 

“Because of me. Because of” 

He breaks off, rubs at his mouth like he can’t believe he’s saying it.

And Daniel is screaming at him to not say it. Maybe if Max hadn't said it they could have pretended.

“Because I love you, and you think that’s why you have to go.”

Daniel doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. Inside he feels the same sick crawl.

“Max,” Daniel says, voice rough, “don’t”

“Don’t what?” 

Max’s eyes flash, he continues. 

“Don’t say it? Don’t make it real? You think leaving fixes it?”

The words slam into the space between them, raw and trembling. Daniel wants to beg him to stop, wants to tell himself to be quiet, to stifle his own anger. 

Instead Daniel shakes his head, eyes wet.

 “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I do,” 

Max insists, stepping forward again.

 “I can’t, I can’t help it, Daniel.” 

Daniel’s breath catches. He whispers,

 “That’s why I have to go.”

Max’s voice cracks, quieter now, breaking open. And Daniel wants to freeze time, hold him, maybe pretend things are okay. 

“No. That’s why you should stay.”

Daniel smiles, small and miserable. And fuck, he would give anything to go back and change things. 

“You’ll be fine without me, mate.”

“Don’t say that,” 

Max says, and it's almost pleading. Daniel thinks Max might have dropped to his knees if Daniel asked. 

“Don’t you dare.”

Daniel steps closer, close enough that he can feel Max’s breath. His hand lifts, almost reaches for Max’s cheek but stops halfway. Fingers curl back into a fist.

“I’m proud of you,” 

he says softly. 

“Always will be.”

Max closes his eyes, shakes his head, voice trembling. 

“I hate you for this.”

“I know.”

Max opens his eyes again red, angry, desperate. 

“Then don’t go.”

Daniel’s smile trembles. He needs to wake up. 

“You’ll win everything. You’ll be the best. That’s what you deserve.”

Max’s voice drops to a whisper. 

“I don’t want it without you.”

Daniel finally reaches up, touches his shoulder, it's brief, too brief. before pulling away.

“You’ll still have me,” 

He says it, but he knows he’s lying through his teeth. It's even more naive to think he can convince Max of this. 

“Just… somewhere else.”

And he walks out of the room, leaving Max behind. The memory is torture, he cant stop it, and when the world returns to him fuzzy and colourful again he feels his stomach lurch. The walk to the kitchen is unfamiliar and longer than usual as Daniel struggles to find the coffee machine before realizing he has no pods for it, great. 

Just another thing. 

One more thing. 

He settles on another Door Dash order, leaving a generous tip before embarking on a much needed shower. His bathroom is, like the rest of the house, large and empty. He honestly can't remember the last time he had truly lived in this apartment, it's odd considering how much time he had spent in Monaco. That realization sets him back to that guilty vile feeling. Monaco had of course ment Max, and that had been why this apartment would have been so unused. The shame eats at him as he turns the shower on. Warm water cascading across his skin, in some universe it probably runs black with dirt. 

His hands card through wet curls, his mind quieting as he breathes in. It's just Max. 

The rest of the day is spent in waiting, pending understanding as he pours over the selection of shirts. Daniel still has clothes here, a selection of oversized party shirts, things that scream fuckboy and he deems each one too much for whatever this is. Max had never clarified what sort of party this was, classy, sponsor, club, but the plain blue tee seems like the safest option. It hugs his arms nicely, makes him look broader than he is, gives the illusion of muscle. 

He doesn't mean to, but it's the same pale blue shirt, black shorts paired nice enough as he checks his watch. It’s 10:30, but if Daniel waits any longer he fears he might never go. He walks, because they do live that close unfortunately, and no one here would ever recognize him. Daniel is certain of that. Monaco is beautiful at night, the lights glistening along the winding streets as he draws nearer, it's something that makes the place feel a little less suffocating. The feeling quickly returns however, the shops taunt him with more colourfilled memories, Max and him going to lunch, Max and him running from the media, Max and him getting drunk and belting songs. He fucking hates Monaco. 

When he reaches Max’s building at 10:46, the breeze is just cool enough to entice him to wait. He settles by the coastline, the small secret path he and Max had spent hours on. For a while he just sits in the sand, watches the waves lap at the shoreline, pretends that maybe things will work differently. When he finally feels brave enough to rejoin it's 11:45, to be frank he isn't sure how that much time slipped by. It's late, but early by party edict, he climbs each step and stops cold by the familiar door. It's still unmarked, indiscernible by outlookers. The finish of it is deep grey with a small diamond window, the glass is thickly marbled and blocks out any potential snooping. 

He reaches, holds his breath, and knocks softly. 

The moments after his knock are a stifling silence, Daniel feels like he can't breathe, and he teases the idea of leaving altogether for a moment. 

When it opens, Daniel is face to face with Kelly. Shit. 

It makes his heart sink a little bit more than he would like to admit. The reason is sound, of course it isn't likely that Max would have answered, Daniel feels foolish for even having entertained the thought. But Kelly makes him think of Heidi and that sours the mood even more. Maybe this wasn't a good idea after all. 

Kelly smiles softly before she steps aside letting him in. She looks well, happy, being with Max will do that to you. He surely doesn't catalog the fact that her left hand still has no ring, that would be absurd. 

It's loud inside, less people than he would have imagined, and with the noise and dancing it's hard to really take in all the aspects of Max’s flat. Lando is there, along with Martin and Rico, his eyes scan for Max before he spots him in the corner of the room, hand on a Redbull, animatedly chatting away. 

His body moves first, taking him over to where Max is, carefully pushing people aside as he finally reaches Max, except that the balcony area is deserted when he arrives, and Daniel curses to himself. 

When Max does speak to him Daniel feels the room go silent, as if time itself stops just for a minute. 

“Daniel?”

His heart could break at the familiar way Max’s accent slides over his name. When he turns around Max is there, taller than him by just an inch and slightly broader now. His facial hair is patchy and oh so Max. 

“Maxie.”

Daniel doesn't know what he expects, but the hug Max gives him is certainly unusual, it takes Daniel off guard, too soft and loving. It makes Daniel remember Max, younger Max, scared of his father Max. 

This is Max, but it isnt that Max, it isnt his Max, this is someone new, someone Daniel doesn't know and that makes his heart clench in his chest. 

When he pulls away, Max opens the balcony door and beckons Daniel out like nothing is different. Daniel follows him, like he always did to some degree. 

It's quieter out here, the night air cool and condensing compared to the air inside, it's refreshing and it clears Daniel’s head just enough. 

Here he can really look at Max. Admire his face, more filled out and manly, different from the last time they had spoken. His eyes are the same, deep blue and searching, they don't match Daniel’s anymore, and he finds that distresses him much more than it should. 

He realizes a beat too late how awkward the silence must be, clearing his throat as he speaks up. 

“Whats the party for? You get another kiddo?” 

Max freezes, then his smile drops slightly. 

“No. The 2025 championship.”

He says it like a fact, and Daniel feels his heart sink. He hadn't followed Formula one, blocked all the old accounts, but surely he had promised Max he would keep tabs on his stuff. One look around the inside of the room makes him feel even worse. Each wall is plastered with obnoxious ‘2025’ and ‘WDC’ scrawled all over. 

“Oh fuck, I-congratulations, I had no idea.” 

Max smiles at him, eyes hardening as he speaks again. 

“There are drinks in the kitchen.” 

Daniel grimaces, reaching out to ruffle Max’s hair. 

“Not for me Maxie.”

It's a line that reminds Daniel that he too has changed, and perhaps they have finally become incompatible. Perhaps now he can finally say goodbye. 

“Orange juice, not alcohol.”

And oh fuck. Daniel is so screwed. Because they have changed, but Max bought him orange juice, Max hates orange juice. Max bought him orange juice, and maybe just maybe Daniel feels like he could kiss him right here and now. 

✦✴❀~3~❀✴✦

He doesn't get the chance however, Max gets swept away by some drunken men yelling and clapping his back with a harshness and familiarity that makes Daniel feel ill. He has no right to be jealous, that used to be the two of them. He remembers the clubs of LA, Suzuka, Vegas, all memories coated in bright pinks and obnoxious greens. Max had been in love with the parties then, Daniel his unofficial handler, keeping him from getting too drunk, from posting anything stupid, getting him home safe. He misses the way the two of them would stumble up steps, laugh filled and slick with sweat. Redbull never double booked them anymore, but Daniel found he rarely remembers rooms to himself, it seemed that they always found a way back to each other then. Daniel remembers the lectures they’d get from Helmut the next day only to do it all over again a week later, because life was short and they were filthy rich and young and Max was so in love with him. 

Daniel wonders how long Max had been in love with him. It seems like every memory he has of him has some level of infatuation in Max’s blue eyes. But he can't seem to remember when that infatuation grew from a crush into something more. He resolves not to think on it too much, without Max the music is too loud and the air is too sticky and Lando is? Is he grinding on that guy? 

Rubbing a tattooed hand over his face he pushes through the crowd of bodies into the kitchen. The sight resembles a bit of a frat party, with the way the bodies are swaying and the kitchen island is filled with alcohol. It makes sense as it is at Max’s house, but the whole ordeal makes Daniel feel a bit old. Opening the refrigerator he takes a brief survey of the contents, eggs, milk, tomatoes, some mystery meat and a green drink that looks remarkably like sludge. He decides that one must be one of Kelly’s smoothies and so he reaches for the carton of orange juice. It's scripted in French, du jus d'orange. He rolls the words over in his head as he pops the side out to pour the yellowy liquid into a frosted glass. The carton is blue and white, striped with the writing in red next to a delightful image of an orange. He swirls the glass, more out of habit, before lifting it to his lips to tip it back and sip. The flavour is simple, tart and tangy with an overwhelming citrus aftertaste. But its grounding and it makes him think of home, makes him think of his mum, and sister and the ranch. It tastes like his summers spent in the sun, scraped knees and footie and karting. The juice dampens his mustache as he wipes his lips clean with the back of his hand. He feels strangely like a child as he watches those around him drink. Somewhere in his pocket he knows there is his 6 month chip, heavy and distinct in its reminder. But some part of him will always miss this. 

He spends the rest of the party watching Max, it's utterly lovesickening and he truly has no idea what has gotten into him, but it feels comforting. He watches Max sing, drunkenily and so poorly, his lips stumbling over the syllables as he belts out some stupid pop song. He is behaving much too childish and Daniel feels like someone here should definitely cut him off, his cheeks are permanently flushed now and Daniel is convinced he couldn't walk by himself any real distance without kissing the floor beneath him. But it's his 5th world title and so Daniel thinks there is no harm in letting him enjoy it for a while. Enjoy the reckless pull of the night, because fuck, life is for living right? 

At some point Kelly begins to clear everyone out, and Daniel makes his way back home. The walk is longer now and he is exhausted as he returns to his flat, the mattress still too large and too stiff beneath his weight. Still he feels his eyes grow more heavy as he drifts off. He thinks about Max, because that's what totally straight people do, people who aren't obsessed with their old teammates, 36 year old men who should be married and have families and jobs and fuck. 

When he wakes up and is welcomed yet again by the empty kitchen he decides a couple of things. The first thing is that he most definitely is going to buy some shit for this awful flat, the second thing is that he is going to rekindle his relationship with Max, and the third? He isn't going to go back to Perth, yet. So he texts Michelle to arrange a house cleaner to look over his home there, sends a text to the only other person he knows will be in Monaco, Charles, and messages Max about a time for lunch. Max feels the most odd, opening their chat means looking at the wall of messages Daniel has ignored, but he pushes through, reasons that this is a fresh start, that nothing in the past matters, he misses Max too much. 

The first thing proves to be relatively easy, Charles responds to him with enthusiasm and they set up a time for him to get picked up and driven around to all the best shops. Charles makes a show of selecting overly expensive pieces that Daneil feels are frankly more for show than use, but Charles insists on their quality and so Daniel buys them. He gets things he has no idea how to use, stupid kitchen appliances that only have one main use and then are blatantly unhelpful for anything else. But Charles tells him they will look good on his counter regardless, and so Daniel feels he can't be argued with, who doesn't love a decorative juicer? 

He asks Charles about the season, learns that Max had a huge challenge, learns that McLaren have become competitive again. He pretends to not notice the apologetic look Charles gives him when he mentions Lando's success. It's unspoken, and yet too close to home. Charles mentions Cadillac coyly and Daniel shuts him down just as fast, kindly, but sternly. He will never return to Formula One. 

The outing goes well, and Charles helps him unload the mass amount of their purchases into his kitchen. He admires the space and makes plenty of furnishing suggestions, to which Daniel resolves to write down the name of Charles’s decorative guy. He is hopeless with these things, lost in colours and shapes and items. When Charles does leave, Daniel flops down on the sofa, his eyes scanning the flatscreen for anything good before he settles on F1TV. Melbourne 2025. It's less of a sharp pain now, his therapist would be proud, more of a dull ache in his chest. But if being friends with Max is something he truly wants, that means being friends with racing again. 

When the race is over he lifts himself from the sofa once more, opening the fridge to steal another greasy slice of pizza from its box, he places it on a fresh plate before closing it in the microwave for half a minute. It beeps annoyingly before he can open it up and remove the plate. It's hot under his fingertips and the cheese bubbles slightly with an electrifying sizzle. 

He moves to the sofa, flopping down on the center before clicking on the flatscreen. He navigates back to F1TV, because he has 22 races left to watch and Charles had made it sound all too appealing. This has to count as exposure therapy right? This time he watches Bahrain, watches Oscar win, watches Max fall behind, listens to his anger over the radio. When he rises to get yet another slice of pizza he returns to Saudi Arabia, where Oscar also wins, and by the time he finishes the pizza it's been 3 straight Oscar wins and Daniel feels his heart sink. Charles had been right, McLaren has dominated this season. 

He doesn't stick around long enough to let the thoughts of his own time there creep in. Not too much. No, he lifts the remote and presses power, watching as the screen goes dark once again. His phone is the next natural form of entertainment he seeks, swiping up he is met with a ‘thumbs up’ from Michelle and a series of Instagram Reels from Charles. Against his better judgement he opens Max’s chat, he hasn't responded yet, but the message isn't marked as read so he takes it as a small win. With Max’s sheer alcohol consumption last night he can imagine the man will take a solid 13 hours to sleep everything off. 

The next natural progression of events feels like browsing for furniture, before becoming sucked into his social media. It isn't until an hour later that Max does text him back, and Daniel is embarrassed by how quickly he thumbs over the notification. 

Time? 

It's curt, short and typical of Max, and yet Daniel feels his chest become tight with coiled anxiety as he considers his response. 

Tomorrow, 1? That sandwich shop downtown? 

He remembers how much Max had loved their burgers. They had come there after Daniel’s Monaco win, when he should have been partying and celebrating with the team and yet Max had asked him to go and Daniel had of course said yes. They ate so much, none of which was approved food for either of them, obviously. Daniel had made fun of Max’s milkshake choice and Max had gone red with embarrassment from it. Daniel remembers it so vividly now. 

Okay. No public, yours? 

Max’s response pulls Daniel back, he feels a twinge of embarrassment from even suggesting the place. Max is a five time World Champion, of course he wouldn't want something too public. Daniel looks around his apartment, hesitation apparent as he considers the state of the place, colourless and bland. It's Max he tells himself, Max wont care, Max is his friend. And so he responds with a thumbs up, because that feels most appropriate. 

It's 6 pm now, and Daniel knows he needs to go make something for dinner, and prepare what he will make for Max tomorrow, maybe even clean up a bit. He sits on the sofa a little longer, letting himself slowly take in the specifics of the situation a bit clearer. But an hour turns to two and then it's 9 pm, and his eyes are drooping and the sofa feels so nice beneath him. It's too nice, too soft and soon enough he finds himself drifting off again, the world fuzzy around the edges. 

✦✴❀~4~❀✴✦

This time his dream is lime. It's an interview of his, but Max had been there next to him, arms draped softly over his shoulder as he spoke. Daniel feels a grin break across his lips as he pokes at Max. 

“Do you miss me?”

It’s live television and Daniel knows Max had been on a tight leash from PR, but he also knows Max, knows what buttons to push to get exactly what he wants. 

“Do you miss me?”

Max responds, a shy chuckle, he looks at the reporter, but Daniel isn't looking at the reporter, he is looking directly at Max. 

He licks his lips. 

“I asked first.”

Max is locked on him now, the moment testing the air around them, and Daniel wonders just for a moment who will pull away first. Whatever little game they are playing. 

“Uhh..”

Daniel wets his mouth, waits eagerly for whatever answer Max is going to give, he isn't sure what he expects. He isn't even sure why he is doing this. 

“Sometimes, sometimes I miss it.” 

The memory cracks into deep, muddy, putrid green. Daniel feels his heart sink as he watches, helpless. They have changed here, and Daniel knows Max never means the PR, or the racing or even the companionship. He knows what that ‘it’ means, and it breaks him a little more. He remembers this time well, Daniel had only been gone for 3 months, but their texts had already begun to fade, Max sought him out less, they spoke less. Everything was less. Daniel had tried, of course, but he would be lying if he wasn't honest that Max’s shift hadn't been hurtful. 

Daniel remembers when they had first really met, Max so young, bordered by his father. The first time Daniel had gotten him to smile - really smile, Max had been reprimanded. Daniel had heard it, seen the shift in Max. 

Daniel had always hated Jos. He hated the fear he had, the control he possessed, and hated everything about the man. But looking at the memory of them, the interview he remembers like it happened yesterday he remembers his real fear. Sure it hurt that Max had changed towards him, but it hurt more to know that he had reverted, begun to close himself up again to everyone. Max had always been the type to joke, to look to Daniel for reassurance that it was funny, that he was good enough. 

How he wishes that Max wouldnt have closed up. He wants to reach out and tell him it's okay. But the memory fades into the waking world before he gets the chance to. 

When he does wake up he is crying, fresh tears that line his tanned cheeks. 

One look at his watch tells him it's 8, and the sunshine creeps through the windows. He rolls his shoulders, cursing himself for refusing to go to his actual bed. He isn't old, but his neck is not kind to him like it was, and the sofa sleeping choice will leave him feeling stiff all day long, great. 

He washes his face, stretches out, brews some coffee and then begins his cleaning. It isn't horribly messy, but he knows that the room could do with a good sweep down and he definitely needs to dispose of his empty pizza box. It's oddly reminiscent of the past few months of his life and that makes Daniel cringe. 

Once the flat is decently clean and Daniel has decided to take a shower, he sets his gaze to food. Max likes tomato soup, Daniel knows that, but he also likes burgers and pasta and all kinds of things. One look at his fridge seemingly decides his fate, he’ll just order from that place, good enough. It's better than ringing Charles and making an emergency run to the downtown grocery shops so close to Max’s arrival. He ignores the real reasoning. 

When Max does show up it is 12:57, and Daniel is pleased that Max hadn't texted him for the address, he still remembers. When he knocks at the door, three raps, quick and soft in nature. It's uncertain and timid. Daniel opens the door with a smile, and Max is there. In the daylight Daniel can really see him, pale white skin, patchy with stubble and a poorly maintained mustache. His eyebrows are knit together tightly, and his eyelashes make his eyes appear almost catlike in nature. 

“Maxie!”

Max shifts his weight, gaze dropping to Daniel’s shoes. 

“Hello Daniel.”

Daniel opens his arms for some hug like an idiot and Max leans into him awkwardly. It feels like the second they make contact Max leaps away, putting considerable distance between the two as he stiffens again. Daniel pretends not to notice, and steps aside to let Max in. 

He notices Max has something, wrapped in brown paper and clasped neatly between his hands as he lifts it from the ground and places it on the kitchen island. For a moment Daniel thinks it might be a bottle of wine and his heart clenches a little bit. It's been 6ish months since he last drank, and he trusts himself to be around the stuff, but to be alone and in possession of alcohol? That's something entirely different. He doesn't have to worry much when Max unwraps the bottle, revealing it to be filled with barbeque sauce. The sweet Texan kind he likes. It makes him feel silly for assuming but a weight is immediately lifted from his chest as he breaks into a genuine smile. Of course Max knows. He’s Max afterall. 

Max looks around the space with slight amusement, Daniel watches his eyes trace around the kitchenware, settling on the juicer. He reminds himself to return the stupid thing because Charles was wrong, it is incredibly stupid to have a fucking juicer. Even more stupid to display it like some sorry excuse for home decor. The basket of fake fruit seems like a better idea. Daniel grimaces. 

Daniel quickly realizes just how tense the air around them has begun to be, he swallows then speaks. 

“You hungry?” 

It's such a stupid question it makes him feel sick. He invited Max for lunch of course he is fucking hungry Daniel. 

Max doesn't say anything about it, but Daniel can tell he thinks it's stupid too. He is drumming his fingers against the tabletop, a habit of his when he is nervous. Max shrugs. 

“Sure.”

Daniel pulls out his phone, opening the restaurant's website in his browser before thumbing through their menu like this is the most normal thing in the world. 

“Burger? With the strawberry shake?”

“No, just the salad.”

Daniel types faster as if it will make the air less tense. 

“Right” 

He presses order, noting the delivery time before closing his phone and placing it on the table.

“You changed Maxie, I'm proud of you.”

It's meant to be silly, his voice light and lips curved into a smile. Max just looks back to him, eyes cold. 

“People do that Daniel.”

He speaks softly, but the meaning hangs heavy in the air. 

✦✴❀~5~❀✴✦

When the food arrives, they eat, the space filled with more uncomfortable silence and Daniel feels his ribs constrict him yet again. He hates this, wishes Max would just talk to him, wishes things would be normal. 

When they finish Max gets up to leave, and Daniel isn't ready. They haven't even spoken, not really, he got Max to laugh once, halfheartedly over a story about Charles. So he does the only thing he can think of to get him to stay, to maybe open up, He reaches for the discarded controller by his flatscreen. 

“FIFA? One match, the loser does the dishes.”

He extends the controller out to Max like some sort of medieval peace offering between warring kingdoms, in some ways it is. And it works. Max thinks about it, then timidly approaches, taking the controller from him before sitting down on the far end of the sofa. Daniel breathes a sigh of relief, flopping down next to him and starting up the game. 

He never liked FIFA, but Max had loved it, and Daniel remembers how many afternoons they had spent together playing this stupid game. Max would try to teach him, get frustrated and then they would end up laughing until their ribs hurt as Daniel tried - and failed - to beat Max. 

For a moment it almost feels like before, easy banter, limitless time, nothing in the world to worry about. He even gets Max to call out a ‘Bullshit!’ at some call the game makes towards his team. They speak briefly about things, and Daniel feels Max remain closed until he mentions one thing, Kelly. Daniel can't stop himself before the words come tumbling out of his mouth and the second they do he holds his breath, sure that Max will lose it. 

“When you gonna put the ring on her?”

Max looks away from the screen for a second to puzzle at Daniel. 

“Ring?”

“Kelly mate.”

Max seems to exhale in understanding but remains perpetually unphased as he responds, eyes locked to the screen where his team has just scored a goal. 

“I don't think we will, I want to make sure she has options of course.” 

If it isn't Max’s intuition that tips him off to the fact that this is a statement that absolutely needs more context it's definitely Daniel’s confused face that does. Regardless, Max elaborates calmly, seeming more surprised by Daniel’s confusion. 

“Becuase we aren't like that? You know this Daniel?”

And Daniel shales his head because what the fuck is Max talking about. Daneil does not in fact know and he hopes Max will take the silence as the cue to this. 

“Becuase I do not like her like that since I came out. She is my friend and so I would not hold her to me if she wanted to find someone she loves.” 

Daniel has to pinch himself to make sure he isn't just dreaming all this shit up. Came out? Max is gay? He isn't dating Kelly? His mind spins with everything Max has just told him and only when Max scores two goals on Daniel does he stop to make sure Daniel is okay. 

“Daniel?” 

“Youre telling me you're not dating Kelly, and you're ...?"

“Ive always been gay Daniel, I thought you knew this.” 

“Max what the fuck, no, I didnt know that?”

Daniel feels his face heat up as he desperately tries to search Max’s face for any sign he might be joking. He turns up empty handed. 

“It wasn't something I was hiding, I just never thought it was important to share, especially with Formula 1 it's just safer if I stay with Kelly publicly, and there is P too so.”

The ease at which Max speaks tells Daniel he is 100% telling the truth and somehow that makes Daniel feel even worse about the whole thing. The controller on his thigh rumbles as the match timer runs out, the screen exclaiming Max’s win. 

Daniel feels somewhat angry at him, betrayed that somehow he never knew this, this very important knowledge. 

“Why did you never tell me this Max?”

He isn't entirely sure why it bothers him so much, he isn't homophobic, certainly not, and yet he feels his blood boil. 

“I tried to Daniel.”

His anger is met with an instant distance from Max, and part of him tries to beg himself to stop, getting angry will only push Max away and he knows this, yet his temper still flares. 

“Right. Of course you did Max.”

Max stiffens, and Daniel can see the flare in his eyes sharpen. 

“What the fuck is your problem Daniel?”

He bites back before he can think it through. 

“My problem? Im not the one being fucking standoffish and cryptic mate. I invited you over so we could be fuckign normal not, not whatever this shit is.” 

His voice cracks and he is standing now, the controller forgotten on the sofa below. 

Max matches him, rising to his same height, Daniel forgot how much taller Max was now. 

“No Daniel, this is your problem, because I refuse to pretend to be normal when things aren't. I texted you, I called you, I reached out, and what happened? You fucking ignored me, and yes you had things going on but you are just as much to blame for this as me. There is no fucking normal with us anymore. You wanted lunch, you got it, I should have never invited you to that party.” 

Max’s fists are balled at his sides and his voice is raised so that his accent slides across each word. Daniel wants to shout at him, call him selfish and tell him to get out, but he knows Max is right. Daniel had pulled away, and Max had no obligation to play pretend with him. The realization rises, not vile, or anger, but sadness, deep and consuming pain that creeps up his throat and burns at his eyes. Max hasn't moved, and Daniel wants so badly to kiss him, he doesn't even know why, it's not the same urge as before, this time it's selfish and mourning and needy. He just wants Max to feel how much he has missed him, how much he wishes he could turn back time, because no words of his can articulate that. 

The flat is silent, and Daniel can feel Max’s temper slow, it's different from the angry boy he remembers. But that was never Max, he reminds himself, that was just a boy who imitated all he had ever known. Daniel is the one to break the silence. 

“Im so sorry Max, I just - I-”

He doesn't have the words, he what? He misses him? It's trapped in his throat, unable to be let out. He doesn't expect Max to respond. 

“If you want normal, then we should just start over.” 

He looks at Max, confused and intrigued and overwhelmed. It's an odd enough thought to cease his anger if not momentarily.  

“Start over from the beginning, y'know, like we have never met.”

It makes Daniel laugh, because the idea is so strange and foolish and obviously insane and something only Max would come up with. So he agrees, because fuck it, Max hasnt left, he is still here, and maybe they can fix this, fix it by starting over. 

So he straightens up, brushes his palms across his shorts and extends his hand towards Max. 

Max looks at him quizzically, before extending his own hand and shaking Daniel’s. 

“Im Daniel, it's nice to meet you.”

And Daniel believes his memories must have gotten fucked up some how beczuse when Max smiles at him its the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. It bathes the room in blues and oranges and makes Daniel's chest swell. Surely he would have remembered his smile being so stunning. 

It's like the sun, and scraped knees and biking and winning a race, all in one moment. And Daniel can't help but smile back. 

“My name is Max, it's nice to meet you too.” 

✦✴❀~6~❀✴✦

They laugh and it's stupid and silly but the pressure is gone and all the sudden Daniel feels like this might work. Max sits back down, they play a new match and it's still distanced but they knock shoulders, and Max talks, and that's more than enough for Daniel. 

When Max does leave it's 6:30 and the sunset is blooming outside, and he happily gives Daniel a hug. He closes the door with a,

“Bye stranger”

And Daniel feels his stomach do somersaults of joy. He considers texting Micheal because he hasn't been this happy in months and yet when Max leaves the euphoria continues. He leans against his kitchen island smiling like an idiot, the barbeque sauce remains unopened, the last of the sunlight catching it and casting a halo of amber across the kitchen. 

It motivates him to text that design guy, set up a stupid consultation appointment. It motivates him to make a grocery list for tomorrow. It motivates him to call his mum, to text Max, to begin moving forward. 

It hits him that this is the first time in a long while that moving forward hasn't felt like giving up, that moving forward feels like the right thing to do. 

Before bed he watches another race, Monza. He remembers the track, remembers his own win here, the euphoria of the podium, the hope that maybe the season had begun to turn for him. He watches the race without memories of pain, he watches an F1 race, and he enjoys it. And that has nothing to do with Max. Absolutely, certainly, 100% nothing at all. 

In the morning he makes his coffee a little less shaky. He trims his beard, clips his hair, calls his sister. He pulls on a maroon hoodie, this one labeled ‘Enchante Garage’ its from his new collection and it provides just enough comfort from the cool morning as he walks to the grocery store. He braves it without Charles, mostly because he refuses to be judged on his produce selection, and returns home an hour later with 3 bags full of overpriced, ‘fresh’ ingredients. 

He stocks his cabinets and steps back to admire the work he has done, it's not much but the kitchen is becoming more his. More lived in. More Daniel. 

Charles’s decorative guy stops over quickly and with too much professionalism. He looks around Daniels flat and scribbles things down on a yellow pad of paper. He asks him all sorts of questions, preferences on colour, style, brand. Daniel half feels bad for the guy, explaining he just wants something colourful, something bright and lived in and none of the fucking modern shit. The guy seems to understand, and throws words like ‘Texan’ and ‘Western’ that fit his inner vision. 

When the man shifts his focus to floral arrangements, Daniel is already mostly checked out, however he makes one defining request. 

“No lilies please” 

If it surprises the man he doesn't show it, just scribbles something else down before shaking his hand and professing that he will be in touch. 

The meeting tires Daniel, but leaves him feeling productive, and he ends the day on the sofa, eyes locked to another race. 

He texts Max about the race, about his win, and Max responds animatedly to each comment. Describes the balance of the car, the speed in the straits, even discloses strategies from GP. He speaks to Daniel as if he is still a member of the team, says ‘we’ and ‘us’ when referring to Redbull like Daniel never left. It makes him sentimental and he spends at least an hour just texting back and forth. It feels natural and he almost doesn't mind the shop talk, almost. 

He spends a week like this, texting with Max, calling his mum, making yummy food. He corresponds with the design guy, approving pieces and confirming orders. It's surprising how quickly all of it is being arranged, and it makes him a bit excited. He is grateful for the lack of financial concern, it's easy to see how swept up one can get in home decor and so Daniel is pleased he can easily afford the very best. 

He spends time designing his next clothing launch and going for his afternoon runs on the beach, nothing beats sand on bare feet. He ends every day with watching a race, making quick work of the 2025 season. 

Tonight it's Singapore, hot and sticky. He remembers the brutality of this one. He remembers Singapore very well actually. 

Beside him his phone begins to buzz, shifting across the table with its annoying vibrations. Daniel curses whoever would call him at 7:40, but reaches to answer it nonetheless. 

He is pleasantly surprised to see its Max. 

“Maxie! What's up mate?”

“Daniel, I wanted to see if you are interested in coming over tomorrow?”

A smile creeps across Daniel’s lips.

“I think that is an AMAZING idea, i’ll pop round 11?”

“Alright.”

“Sounds good Maximus.” 

“Goodnight Daniel.”

“Goodnight.”

When he goes to bed he is smiling ear to ear. He half remembers texting the design guy that he can come over to install things tomorrow while he is out, but Daniel sleeps the second his body reaches his oversized mattress. 

His dreams aren't as nice. 

They are coloured in a grey haze, a thick and heavy smoke that seems to suffocate him. For a moment it just feels like he is floating in some void, that is until he hears the voices. 

All the sudden he is transported to the McLaren hospitality, Zac is across from him at one of those pretentious glass tables. The paper in front of him is labeled ‘Contract’ and Daniel feels himself become a little sick. As if to protect himself all the words are hazy, they sound mumbled and he struggles to hear what Zac is saying to him. 

He makes out tiny things, tiny hurtful things that stick him like little barbs. 

“Under performing” “Non renewal” "Disappointing" 

The cold, icy fear of reality settles into him before he can attempt to wake up. 

He doesn't have a seat, he has just been sacked and now he needs to find an open seat. His heart rate escalates, thumbing rapidly inside his chest. He needs to wake up. 

He is transported again, this time his body is inside a car. It's the Alpha Tarui car, and when he finally reaches to run his hands along the steering wheel it begins to shake out of control. It's Zandvoort all of a sudden. His eyes trace the track ahead, Oscar has just crashed, and he is approaching him rapidly now, his hands grip the wheel hopelessly. He can't pass, and at the last second he turns the wheel into the wall. 

He bolts upright, the world still dark outside, only the small glittering lights from windows nearby dot the evening scape. It's been a while since he has had a dream like that. He hates how easy it is for him to swing his legs over to the edge of his bed, his mouth is dry, and panic sets in once more. When he reaches for his phone, discarded somewhere on his end table, the time flashes at him glaringly. It's 4:30 in the morning. His heart rate quickens as his mind begins to swirl again. He opens his phone app, normally he calls Michelle, Michael, Blake - typically the only people in his recents, so he isn't thinking when he presses the most recent call, Max. 

Max picks up before Daniel can press hangup, and he is faced with an open line and nothing he can say. His throat is almost completely closed, Daniel is yelling, begging, pleading for Max to fucking hang up, to end the call, leave him alone, but he cant say a thing. Max tests the air with a few hello’s, and Daniel thinks he might hang up, until he sees a message pop up. 

Daniel? 

Are you okay? 

He sits there, staring at the messages because what else is he supposed to do, but now he is really struggling to control his breathing and he feels his chest compress even further than before. 

I'm coming over. 

He wants to tell him no, to tell him it's fine, to laugh this off and smile and roll over and go to bed normally. But he also knows that maybe that isn't what he wants. And so he holds his breath when the call discontects. 

Max knocks at his door less than 7 minutes later, and Daniel has to remind himself that Max is a professional racecar driver. When Daniel opens the door, pale and shaking and still struggling to control his breath, Max just stares at him. He is in his sleeping shorts, a hoodie that is much too large for him and his hair is still sticking up from sleep. But he steps inside and assesses Daniel with concern, heavy in his eyes. 

He pulls Daniel into a tight hug, and Daniel can't help himself anymore, it feels like someone has lifted the pressure from his chest and before he can stop himself he is crying, sobbing into Max. Max only grips him tighter, and it's all too reminiscent. He remembers after that race, he remembers Max holding him, letting him cry and yell and scream. He remembers how angry it had made Daniel that Max hadn't flinched or left, simply sat there and held him and told him this wasn't his fault, that he could still drive, told him it was the car, the team, told him that it wasn't him. 

And Daniel had left him. Had left all of it. Had woken up in Max’s arms and walked away, ignored every message, took a shot for every call, blocked every post. 

But Max was here, and Max was moving him to the sofa and holding him, pressing Daniel against his chest and carding his fingers though each curl like he might break. Telling him to breathe, calming him down, making it okay. 

It only makes him cry harder, fear wilting into shame and guilt as he sniffles into the nice cotton of Max’s hoodie. His eyes feel heavy, and Max is able to get him to drink half a glass of water before Daniel remembers falling asleep. 

✦✴❀~7~❀✴✦

When he does wake up, the room around him is bright, the curtains drawn in an attempt to block some of it out, but they don't do a very good job. Daniel notices the pillow under his neck and slowly the events of the evening return back to him. Max must have moved him to bed, probably to make sure that he didn't injure his neck. The thought makes his cheeks heat. 

He stretches and swings himself out of bed, padding to the kitchen where he can hear Max speaking on the phone. He is speaking in Dutch, and trying to be somewhat quiet by it, there are only 4 people Daniel knows of that Max would call in Dutch, and so he holds his breath. When Max breaks into a smile, ending the call looking refreshed to turn his attention back to whatever smells so good on the cooktop Daniel rules out the worst possibility.

The whole scene is so domestic and serene that Daniel feels like he might still be in a dream, one that is a soft orange and blue. Max is humming, happily working away at what surely must be breakfast, and he has a softness to him that Daniel cannot ignore. 

He cannot remain anonymous forever and so when Max turns to set a filled dish on the table top, he locks eyes with Daniel. Max places the dish down, eyes softening as he smiles. 

“Good morning, I made breakfast. I haven't made your coffee yet because it might have gotten cold.” 

Daniel approaches the kitchen with a sort of reverence, and settles on hugging Max as tight as he possibly can; it takes Max by surprise, but he gives into it easily. Daniel swears he can see a faint blush creep across his cheeks too. Daniel stares at him, and feels the desire to press their lips together overwhelm him once more, this time it's out of gratitude he tells himself. And the moment passes as soon as Max shoves him a plate filled with sausage and eggs nodding to the sofa. 

Max returns half a beat later to join him, setting the fresh cup of coffee down next to Daniel before pressing play on the flatscreen and digging into his own, less filled, plate. They eat in silence for the most part, the occasional comment about the race here and there. Daniel knows Max will never bring up last night, not unless Daniel wants to, which he doesn't. Max is a good friend like that, the thought makes Daniel agonise. Because Max is an excellent friend, a friend with whom Daniel is so in love with he is overcoming his past traumas to even get to be around him. And yet, Max is someone who no longer loves Daniel, because Daniel walked away from him so long ago and now this is all he could ever be, friends. But that is all Daniel wants them to be right? The whole situation is unbelievably confusing. 

Daniel wonders what it would be like, if Max dated a guy. Would Daniel be jealous, would Max even tell him? Do gay guys still have guy friends once they start dating someone? How did Max know he was gay? Did he kiss a guy? Did he want to kiss Daniel? Would Daniel have let him? Would he kiss Daniel now? 

He looks at Max, sitting so close to Daniel that their shoulders brush when Max breathes. He is balancing the plate on one knee while his other bends beneath him. He looks a bit like a cat, crumbled up in some human pretzel that cannot be comfortable. His hair is still messy, and Daniel can spot dried tooth paste in the corner of his mouth. His lips are large, pink and so inviting even with the ghost of facial hair above them. 

How would it feel? It would probably scratch with Daniel’s own hair, gritty and uncomfortable, nothing like kissing a girl. But maybe, maybe it would feel nice, those plush lips, the heat of his skin, the sharp edges of kissing a man, of kissing Max. 

Max doesn't love him anymore, he has to remind himself of that to dissolve whatever fantasy this is. And Daniel isn't gay, he just likes Max, and that doesn't mean he is into dudes. He would never kiss Michael, the thought of it makes his skin crawl uncomfortably and so he can't be gay. Case closed. And yet, he still feels a slight unease brew within him. 

“How did you..”

Max turns to Daniel, and Daniel swears he doesn't even remember opening his mouth.

“Make the overtake? I had DRS, and Lando always covers his left so around turn 14 I just took the inner line and cut ahead, then made sure to cover the outside line on 15.”

Daniel pauses for a moment, and then breaks out in laughter. Because Mas is entirely serious and the whole situation is so overwhelmingly hilarious to Daniel. 

When he calms himself down, the question feels less scary and so he asks it. 

“Nah Maxie, how did you know that you were gay?”

Whatever Daniel assumes is going to happen somehow doesn't and he once again becomes amazed by just who Max is. It takes him a moment but he stills his behavior, placing his fork down before puffing out his bottom lip to think. It's the same face he makes when he is pouting about something GP has told him, but his eyebrows are softened now, not as angry he notes. It feels like an eternity before he speaks, but it's an eternity that isn't uncomfortable. 

“I think I always knew, I just never really went for girls, and then like, when I did feel, like interested in someone they were always like a guy.”

He wants to press farther, probe about who, how he ended up with Kelly. But Max isn't done.

“I came to Redbull and Formula 1 and I just, I had the biggest crush on Carlos.”

It takes Daniel completely by surprise, he rolls the idea over in his head, Carlos and Max, before reminding himself this was a 17 year old having a crush, not some long term relationship. 

“And then I met you.”

And Daniel's thoughts drop entirely. 

“And I was so obsessed with you, and your nose, and your smile, and your tattoos.”

Daniel’s throat is tight and his mouth feels completely dry now. He knew, of course he knew, but the ease at which Max admits it, says it outloud, makes his ribs hurt. He half wants to ask him,

Has it gone away? 

But he knows better, knows the answer to that question. 

“Then things changed, Kelly of course, and then,”

He drops off for a moment, and despite what he doesn't say, Daniel can fill in the blanks here. He means his father intervened. The thought makes his blood go cold in his veins, he remembers back to those times, times where he would hear them. He pushes it out of his mind when Max starts speaking again. 

“But of course I couldn't pretend, so I spoke with her, and she knew, and so we are where we are now.” 

He breathes out, lifts his fork, and returns to the leftover eggs scattered on his plate. 

“Did you love her?”

Max thinks again, but this time the answer seems to find him much faster. 

“No, she is my best friend, and I will forever be grateful to her, but I never loved her like that.”

Daniel is relieved and amazed at Max’s ability to separate the complexity of their relationship  into something so simple. He makes a note of it, Kelly does mean a lot to him. He wants to ask if Max has loved anyone else, if he has loved a man before, if he knows how to navigate these feelings, if it makes you gay to love one guy. Because the thought of anything else seems off putting to him, but for Max? Daniel doesn't think there is anything that he wouldn't do for Max. 

They finish their breakfast, Daniel washes the dishes and Max dries them and its so fucking domestic it makes Daniel feel sick. They decide to go play paddle, because the design guy will be coming over soon, and so Daniel packs his racket and a change of clothes and follows Max out. 

Max drives them to the courts, and Daniel watches the surroundings of Monte Carlo sweep by them. For a moment he remembers this in the F1 cars, remembers how they turn and handle on these roads. But it's not a bad memory, and Daniel is sure that has nothing to do with the fact that Max is there. 

Lando and Charles are there when they arrive and naturally they pick doubles. Max goes with Charles and Daniel happily greets his ex teammate. They make comments about Ferrari being shit and Lando takes a dig at Max’s off season pudge, but they play and yell and by the end of it Daniel feels like it's been the best day ever. Max and Charles have lost horribly, but Max is laughing about it and Charles seems to be more concerned with his hair. Lando is loud and when they do part ways, Daniel slips into the passenger seat of Max’s Porsche, his ribs hurting from laughter. 

Max drives him back to his apartment, and Daniel sees it for the first time without the people and the tacky decorations. It's not exactly the same as he remembers, the layout has been changed slightly more space to accommodate Max’s growing trophy collection, but it still feels remarkably like home. 

He flops down on the sofa, and almost shoots into the air when something soft rubs along his shin. Max laughs gently, and when he approaches Daniel he bends just in front of him to scoop the cat up into his arms. Daniel recognizes the bangle, but remains oblivious to if this is Sassy or Jimmy. Max clears it up for him, petting the cat sweetly before professing over his little ‘girl’, so this is Sassy he notes. His eyes trace the cat’s patterns trying to identify anything unique about her. 

Max sets her atop the sofa before retreating to the kitchen. He mentions some dish and Daniel just hums in agreement before returning to stroking Sassy between her ears. She looks at him with a sort of pleasant acknowledgement, purring as he continues to press his hand along her fur. 

Jimmy, her brother, joins them soon after, and a little white creature waddles across the carpet to bat at his shoelaces not long after. Max smiles at him from the kitchen, seemingly impressed by his cats' casual approval of the new visitor. 

When Max does return with a dish of some delightful looking pasta drenched in cheesy sauce, oil and garlic. Daniel is once again grateful to the retirement diet. Max’s plate is much less filled, yet he notes that it is most definitely more than he is allotted. He doesn't comment, and secretly he is pleased that Max isn't being too harsh on his body during the off season. He sits down next to Daniel, lifting Sassy to place her in his lap where she continues to purr. 

Max puts on some football match, eyes locked to the screen as he digs into his plate. Daniel follows suit and once he finishes his plate (and maybe gets seconds) he takes their dishes to put away. Max’s kitchen is familiar and Daniel feels like he already knows where everything is. It's comforting and agonizing. When he returns to the sofa, he sits closer than he should to Max, and Max leans on him a little more than he should. Nothing is said, and so when Max begins to drift into sleep, his entire head resting up against Daniel, he feels suddenly like Sassy has sat in his lap and now he cannot move until she wakes. Except this is Max, and Daniel can't help but feel his soul stir as he watches Max’s face, resting in sleep against him. He missed this so much, and it becomes harder to justify not being able to have this forever. 

Just as he reaches out to smooth some hair out of Max’s face, Max’s phone buzzes loudly beneath him. It jolts him awake slightly as Daniel pulls his arm back with haste. Max however doesn't seem annoyed or remotely phased as he pulls his phone out to answer the call. It's a video call and before Daniel can rearrange himself to be in a more respectable position, Kelly’s face fills the screen. Daniel feels his heartrate rise as he waits for whatever conversation he is now a part of. 

Max is completely relaxed however, smiling to her before she speaks. 

“Daniel! How lovely to see you again!”

She sounds sincere and it makes Daniel feel the slightest bit bad, regardless he relaxes, clearly welcomed here, smiling back to her politely before the screen is moved to show Penelope. 

“Hello Maxie!”

Her smile melts Max’s heart and Daniel can see the way he instantly smiles back, they speak briefly, before Daniel understands what this is. Penelope is calling Max to say goodnight, and it feels so natural it makes Daniel want to cry. Because regardless of anything else, he can feel the love Max has for this little family of his, and it makes him so overwhelmed to be a part of. However he is a part of it. It's even harder to stifle the feeling of want now, and he curses himself for it. 

When they end the call, Max offers to drive Daniel home, and Daniel knows he should say yes, so he does. But he wants to see if Max would let him stay, would let him go to that same room he always used to get put in. Maybe they would end up together again, maybe that's too soon. 

When Daniel does go to bed he texts Max, tells him thank you, and Max texts him back a blue heart because that's normal. Daniel sleeps in a house freshly furnished in bright colours and western decor, a flat that feels like him all the sudden. He is overwhelmed by the sense of home here, the fresh yellow curtains and the new little lion next to his end table. It's gaudy and odd but it's home and Daniel loves it. 

✦✴❀~8~❀✴✦

In the morning he calls Blake, tells him everything, and Blake tells him the things friends are supposed to say, like, ‘be careful’ and ‘youre fucked’ and Daniel listens becuase Blake is right, he is absolutely fucked here, but at the same time he is also so in love and he gets to have Max like no other and that feels fucking insane. And so what if one day Max will settle down with some strong Dutch man who is everything he dreams of, and Daniel will watch them because that's what friends are for. But Daniel has Max right now, and if this is all it could be he thinks this could be enough for him, because there isn't much hope in chasing after someone if they aren't Max. And maybe that is gay, and maybe he doesn't care. Maybe he doesn't fucking care. 

He texts Max, then walks over without seeing if he said anything, because that's what they do now. Max opens the door surprised, but lets Daniel in with a smile and Daniel feels so at home it's insane. They talk, and play FIFA, and Max wins because he always wins, not because Daniel is busy looking at him the entire time. 

They go to the beach and Max doesn't seem to mind that they get stopped, that fans take pictures of them, that they are trending with the tag #Maxiel on Twitter. Max just laughs and plays and sits with Daniel. 

It's the process day after day. Max comes to Daniel, Daniel goes to Max, they might play paddle, go eat, one time they went on a walk with P, but it's always the two of them. And small things happen, they make Daniel rethink, just maybe, maybe there is a chance. 

Max sleeps next to him one night, not touching but beside him still, it reminds him so much of their past, but he never brings it up. Max will bolt if he does. Daniel tries to make the fall happen quicker, points out hot guys for Max, he turns them all down with a sense of laughter, tells Daniel he is into Australians. And Daniel laughs it off, because what the fuck do you say to that. 

✦✴❀~9~❀✴✦

It's been a month and a half since Daniel came to Monaco, and he knows their time like this won't last forever. Max eats less and less now, and he spends more time at the gym, the soft layer of fat burning away as the weeks begin to tick down. Daniel isn't sure what his plan is when Max goes back to racing. He debates staying here in Monaco, or going back home to Australia, focusing on his brand. His life has been so much better now, and so the thought of Max leaving makes him worry more than he would like to admit. 

But Max has been avoiding it too. He seems uneasy when Daniel touches the subject lightly, and Daniel decides it must just be nerves. He ignores the fact that younger Max used to jump at the start to another season, he ignores how much longer their touches have gotten lately. He ignores how badly he has wanted to kiss Max. 

That's all in the past, he tells himself that like it might fix things, make them easier, something something something, anything. 

It isn't until they are almost a month away from the season start. 

But Max is hesitant and Daniel feels himself seize up for a moment. 

“I have to go to Bahrain next week, preseason testing.” 

It's something that Daniel remembers, he is both grateful and pissed at just how easy this had gotten. Whatever this is between them. Preseason testing blends into the start of the season and the start of another championship for Max to win. Daniel remembers how it goes, the measurements and onslaught of promotional content, the uptick in physical maintenance. He grimaces at the anxiety beginning to tangle in his stomach. 

Max doesn't notice it at first, too busy tugging slightly at his fingernail. It's a bad habit he has, tugging at the skin around the nail until it's red and irritated. Some show is playing mindlessly in the background and Max sits crosslegged across Daniel’s sofa seemingly with no care in the world. His hair is longer, stray pieces falling into his eyes in a way Daniel used to tease him for, now he just takes the time to memorize the curve of his nose, column of his neck and sharpness of his jaw like he is running out of time. 

“Bahrain...” 

Daniel’s voice teeters on uncertainty, hanging in the air. 

“Thats soon”

“Yeah” 

Max looks over, something flashing across his eyes too quickly for Daniel to catalog. 

“I have to leave Tuesday.”

Daniel nods, but the words sink into his skin with implication. This is the beginning of the end, they both know it, soon Max will be traveling again and this will all be in the past. It sticks behind his ribs uncomfortably, rippling across his skin with unease. 

“You’ll kill it mate, you always do.”

Max grimaces, Daniel does too, but the shallow praise seems mounds easier than confronting whatever this is. 

“You sound like my PR manager Daniel.”

“Guess I've been here too long then.”

That gets a proper laugh, and Daniel's heart twists, he wishes he could freeze this moment. Keep them here forever, perfectly preserved in this moment. But Max’s laughter fades, and when Daniel looks up at him again, he is looking at his hands. 

“Do you ever think about it?”

Max’s voice is unsteady, timid, and Daniel feels his heart sink as he speaks. His hands are still on the counter top and he freezes. 

“About what?”

He knows what, he knows Max knows he knows what, but the fear that consumes him from admitting this, that makes him sick. He stalls, resuming his tapping across the granite, keeping time with some pretend symphony. 

“Coming back.”

It takes him off guard, but Max’s voice is so light and small he wonders if he could just pretend that he never heard him, turn back to the laughter, forget this. Because this is about so much more than racing and Max knows that, this is about them, and whatever this all is, and its all too much for Daniel to name, for fucks sake he isnt even gay. 

But Max and racing are two different things and so he settles for an answer that is both truthful and all encompassing. 

“I missed my chance Maxie.”

✦✴❀~10~❀✴✦

They hang out until Max has to leave, it's every single day. Daniel gets closer to him, and he swears they are pushing so dangerously close to the edge of something irreparable. 

Daniel stays at his apartment the night before he boards a plane. He agrees to watch over the place, Jimmy, Sassy, Nino, and Donut, he assures Max that they will be in good hands. He definitely doesn't cry when Max does leave, and he definitely doesn't take an obnoxious orange ‘Unleash the Beast’ hoodie from Max’s closet. 

That would be absurd. 

Max texts him, tells him about the flight and sends him pictures when he lands. They joke about the weather and Daniel spends the next 2 weeks texting back and forth with him whenever they can. 

Jimmy has taken a specific liking to him, curling up in his lap whenever Daniel decides to watch some show on Max’s ridiculously large flat screen. Max complains about the car, shares things he probably shouldn't about the specs and various upgrades. Daniel tells him he can win another one, Max smiles over the phone, and so much is left unsaid. 

He calls his mom, his sister, Micheal, even Blake. Lando invites him to paddle and he goes. Charles and him get lunch. It's not entirely unusual when Pierre invites him over for a coffee, and truth be told Daniel did always like him, but the atmosphere seems different when Daniel approaches the looming building, towered with white trim and pale blue accents. 

He finds his way to the elevator, because fuck the stairs, this place has like 14 floors, and when he reaches the assigned number, a security guard checks his ID before allowing him to the front door. 

Pierre’s house is nothing short of extravagant, the pastel colours melding into a palace of sorts, but he invites Daniel in with a smile and a familiar “Dannieeeeeel Riiiiiiccaridddooooo” and soon enough he is relaxed on the balcony.

They speak about simple things, but Pierre’s eyes hover on him too long, and before he knows it, Pierre is speaking to him with a sense of no bullshit. 

“What is our Aussie really doing in Monaco alone?”

Daniel doesn't know how to respond at first, he considers a joke, but Pierre’s tone eases him into some form of the truth. And so he speaks. 

He talks about Max, and Lando, Charles, Carlos. Tells Pierre about paddle and FIFA. 

Pierre raises a brow in criticism. The image of it is so entirely French in any other circumstance it would make Daniel laugh. 

“And when we all leave?” 

He has been avoiding that thought like the plague, texts Max like everything will go back to normal when he gets back from Bahrain. Pretends they will all stay the same, but soon he knows they will have to go back to racing too. Pierre is right, and he will be alone again, the entire world moving on while he remains the same. It's sickly ironic, and just thinking about it makes his skin crawl uncomfortably, the truth prickling across him in waves. It's unescapable, and before he can recenter himself he is barreling down a track again, 175, 180, 185, 200, 250 kilometers an hour as he rounds the bend. His mind replays the moment over and over, replays the split second decision, the crash, the radio call. 

Is the car okay? 

It echoes through him like a rolling wave, no part of his mind is unescapable from the emotion that takes over him. 

Oscar or the wall. 

Oscar or the wall. 

Oscar or the wall. 

Oscar or the wall. 

Oscar or the wall. 

Oscar or the wall. 

Is the car okay? 

I'm okay. 

Intensive surgery, months of PT, just to be able to perform basic human function again. Even now his hand still tremors more than it should. Returning had meant facing that car, that track, Oscar. The pressure of keeping a seat, of returning to Redbull again. 

Why had he left? 

If you asked him honestly, the truth feels too intimate to speak into existence. Leaving Redbull had been the beginning of the end, an end that lingered, slow and searing and painful as he desperately tried to go back. To return. 

After Singapore he left, blocked accounts, logged out, moved on. Drank a glass before bed, because it helps him sleep, and a glass in the afternoon because it made his wrist hurt less. Glasses turned into bottles, helping turned into reliance, and so, less than 7 months after he left, he checked into some high end, Hollywood catered sober living facility. 

He doesn't know why he is telling Pierre Gasly all of this, of all the people in the world. But here they are, sitting in Pierre’s penthouse balcony, while Daniel spills everything. Pierre doesn't judge him, just patiently sips at his cappuccino while Daniel speaks, waiting until the waterfall of words comes to a trickle. 

The truth is he doesn't know why he wants to go back all of a sudden. It's been years since racing had actually been fun, but watching everyone move on, it leaves him wanting in some way. He just doesn't know what. Doesn't know why. 

The silence after he speaks is punctuated by Pierre placing his cup down on its saucer, it clinks in time with the light breeze. 

“It isn't the racing you miss Daniel.” 

The comment takes him by surprise and in turn he cocks his head, prompting the Frenchman to continue his thought. 

“Tell me more about Max Verstappen.” 

✦✴❀~11~❀✴✦

He doesn't exactly know how to respond to that, the words getting stuck behind his mind as thoughts race past him. He has half a mind to stand up, excuse himself and leave, because clearly Pierre is taking this much less seriously than Daniel originally thought. He restrains himself, breathing in time as he calms down, recentering on Pierre. 

He just sits there, looking absolutely put together and perfect, and a sick bit of jealousy twists up in his chest at the image. Pierre has never been better than him and yet he continues to live a life Daniel can't anymore. He halts the thought before it becomes poisonous, you're being irrational Dan. That's what his mother would say, and so he tunes into the matter at hand. 

“Max?”

Pierre nods, relaxing his hands into his lap before turning to admire the view. You can see all of Monte Carlo below them and it's bordered by the ocean in a blue that is so pungent it feels like it must be edited. Daniel thinks it looks too fake, prefers the kinds of blue with flecks of green and grey, the blue that reflects in Max’s eyes. That alone is enough to push Daniel to come to his senses a bit. 

“Yes, Max. I don't think you need me to explain Daniel.” 

Pierre’s accent slurs across each syllable, particularly pronounced on Daniel’s name; it's not as strong of a french accent anymore, evened out as Pierre has gotten older. Daniel sighs with resignation as Pierre returns to his far off look, he looks like he is just waiting for a candid shot like this, and Daniel wishes he would cut it out. 

He hates guys who just have a perfect photo face all the time, Pierre has probably never had to send his PR agent to take down some ugly photo before. The silence between them is comfortable, and when Daniel finally relaxes enough to speak, really speak, it feels like he is confirming his feelings more to himself than anyone else. 

“What about him?” 

It's a cheap question, Daniel knows, but he refuses to just spill his guts from the beginning, especially not after his earlier outburst. Pierre is patient, amazingly so, Daniel almost wonders if he has done this before, makes a mental note to ask Charles later. 

“When did you know?”

Right, he is asking when Daniel knew he was in love with Max. 

Pierre knows Daniel is in love with Max. And for the first time Daniel acknowledges it too. Because maybe he is in love with Max, and maybe that's okay. 

“Well,”

He hesitates, how does one explain the force that is Max Verstappen, and the complexity that is their relationship? He deems a bit of background knowledge feels right. 

“I first met him back when I just barely started F1, he was just a kid, I don't think we even spoke really. So really it wasn't until he moved up into Redbull that I got to know him. At first, I think I was just convinced his dad like bought him in, I mean he was 18 for fucks sake? Like some scrawny little kid. He didn't talk much, and so I don't think it was until our first season that I ever really knew him.” 

Daniel fiddles with his cup. It is decorated with little branches, small white blossoms and green leaves spiral up the handle into bunches of oranges, they remind him of home.

“I used to joke around with him because he was like so damn awkward, felt like being around him might make him just keel over. And I got him to crack a smile pretty soon, but his dad didn't like that. And so after his win, I just started inviting him to things, and he loosened up a lot. He just followed me everywhere, and he was good. Like, scary good.”

He decides to leave the part about Max’s gigantic crush out. 

He remembers those races, remembers watching Max’s times, Helmut’s warnings to him, better keep up Danny, he’s quick. Quick was a gross understatement, within their first season Max had already come dangerously close to beating Daniel’s lap times. 

“We got a lot closer y'know, when he got older, matured a bit.” 

Pierre rolls his eyes, sure, matured is a loose term, but it was the truth. Max and him had become inseparable, Daniel was no longer a babysitter to him, and the two could hardly spend any time apart. 

“His dad got harsher, he got better.” 

I got worse. 

He looks to the remaining coffee grounds in his cup, their shape convoluted and clumpy, but if he squints he thinks they might resemble a wave. 

“And then, I left.” 

Pierre raises an eyebrow, they both know there is a lot more to that than what he shares. 

“When did you fall in love with him Daniel.” 

Daniel says the words easily, easier than he anticipates at least. They just sort of form in his mind and fall out of his mouth one after another. It's not as scary to admit as he worried it would be, the moment after he says it feels so natural, calm and still there. The world hasn't ended. 

“April 29th, 2018.” 

He admits it because it's true and somehow it makes the misery lift a little from his chest. Daniel Ricciardo is in love with Max Verstappen. There is no maybe anymore, he is in love with Max, and Max is not in love with him. 

Pierre listens to him, traces the lip of his cup with his index before making sure Daniel is finished speaking. He considers the words for a moment, seemingly deciding on a phrase he likes best before speaking again. 

“And, will you tell him?” 

The question hangs in the air, Daniel knows it's a stupid thing. He never intends to tell Max, because Max doesn't love him anymore and if he did it would never work and this is all one stupid idea. But Pierre seems so sincere about it, says it like it isn't such a horrible idea, like maybe it would help them, make this - whatever they have somewhat easier. Thankfully Pierre doesn't demand an answer, he clears their dishes before moving to the kitchen, beckoning Daniel to follow him. 

“Think about it my friend, I think you should.” 

When Daniel does leave, Pierre gives him a hug and sends him on his way with a box full of colourful sweets. He tells Daniel it's a removal of temptation, but Daniel knows it's more of an emotional compensation. Either way he thanks him. 

The drive home is basked in Monaco’s setting sun, coloured in hues of orange and red. Clouds stretching like flames across the darkening skyline, soon the lights of the city will take over, bathing it in a different kind of beauty, but for now the sun extends its final goodbye tonight. 

He plays FIFA before feeding the cats and going to bed. Against some better judgement he finds himself standing in Max’s personal bedroom. The bed is made nicely, navy comforter laid overtop of crisp white sheets, four pillows, two larger and fluffy white, and two smaller black decorative complete the bed. He notices a small concavity by the right side where one of the cats has decided to nap somewhat recently. Max’s nightstand isn't anything special, truthfully nothing about the room is anything notable, it's just some black end table with a single light that rests on its edge, two chargers lay on the ground beside it tangled and worn. Electrical tape is wound tightly around the neck of one of the cords, no doubt in a desperate attempt to keep it together. 

The image of it humors Daniel, Max, a five time world champion of Formula 1, yet, unbothered to purchase a new charger. It's so distinctly Max it makes Daniel smile. He knows he shouldn't be in here, shouldn't be in Max’s private space, yet he can't help but feel the possibility that confessing brings. And so he drives himself to his own flat before he does anything too stupid. 

Max comes home in 3 days, Melbourne is in 2 weeks. 

He is running out of time. 

✦✴❀~12~❀✴✦

Max is none the wiser when he does come home, bags discarded on the kitchen island long forgotten as he remains tangled on the sofa with Daniel. Legs intertwined as they chat and laugh and fill the space with new sound, it lights Daniel’s chest and sets a fire deep within his fingertips, every point of contact between them explodes in overwhelming colour and Daniel is so fucked. He opens his mouth to tell Max, stops himself and continues letting Max take him wherever he seems fit. He feels stupid for not seeing it before. 

Max talks about the car, talks about the weather, talks about GP and his dad and everything. Daniel wishes he could have come, could have seen him in that car again. Max is so Max when he races, and Daniel finds himself missing that, the words to ask Max, to ask if he could come next time, they weigh heavy in his throat. So Daniel doesn't speak, just cards his fingers through Max’s blond hair, lets them stay like this, it's too domestic, too much for friends, but it's too right and so he wont bring it up, wont question Max. 

But Max relaxes farther, and his voice dwindles off as Daniel watches his lids fall heavy. Naturally Daniel lifts him to the bed, knows that Max’s neck will kill tomorrow if Daniel keeps him on the sofa, and so he struggles to hoist Max up without waking him. 

Max has always slept like a rock, that much hasn't changed, but he has filled out so much since Daniel knew him and he has to use his entire back to lift Max off the sofa. When they make it to Max’s room, the same navy covers crisp and welcoming, Daniel peels them back to settle Max down beneath them. He snuggles in nicely, pressing his cheek into the pillows like a little lion and it makes Daniel’s heart flutter more than he would like to admit. Once he is certain that Max is tucked in nicely he turns to leave, perhaps he will make some dinner for him later, tomato soup sounds nice. Except Max grabs Daniel’s wrist before he can walk away, and fuck, Daniel is only a man afterall. 

He settles in next to Max, careful not to let them touch, but his throat is so tight he struggles to breath and his chest burns. Max rolls over, he holds onto Daniel's arm and Daniel relaxes because this feels so right and so perfect and overwhelmingly free. Because Daniel hasn't felt this good since his win in Monaco, since he first made Max laugh. 

When Daniel stirs, it is sometime the next morning, Max is warm around him and Daniel feels his nerves settle. Max is still fast asleep and Daniel curses his bladder because he would give anything to stay here, and yet he carefully untangles himself, bare feet padding their way into Max’s bathroom. He takes a piss, washes his hands, and brushes his teeth with Max’s minty toothpaste. He has a toothbrush at Max’s apartment, has for a while now, he can't remember when it first showed up, but it's the push he needs to decide. Looking out at Max, still asleep and sprawled across the covers of his bed, hair golden in the morning sun, a slight bit of drool drying from those pink lips, he is going to ask Max on a date, because the risk of having this forever is worth it, and Daniel can't keep pretending that these things are okay as they are. 

He picks a clean shirt and shorts before beginning to make something simple for breakfast. He remembers the dietary restrictions and so he does his best to measure things out exactly and write it down next to the fridge on the back of some takeaway receipt. Max will have to log this meal again and so he figures this is the least he can do to help. He doesn't miss that part of racing, the inability to eat anything, the micromanagement of his every movement, he can't imagine what Max is required to track. 

Max wakes up eventually, joining him in the kitchen like this is the most normal thing in the world. Their shoulders brush as Max makes himself a cup of tea, Daniel a cup of coffee. Daniel decides over breakfast is the best time to ask Max on a date, so once the small windowside table is set with plates of eggs and bacon and sausage, he takes one deep breath and locks eyes with Max. 

He looks beautiful like this, the sun is very much up now, but its glow still highlights just how blond Max is and his eyes sparkle in the light. Daniel traces his features mentally, eyes resting on his beauty mark, those plush lips, the sparse hair that has begun to grow across his chin. Max quirks a triangular brow in consfusion and Daniel decides fuck it. 

“Let me take you out tomorrow night.” 

Max looks uninterested, much more invested in his eggs as he shovels them bit by bit into his mouth. He considers the offer too lightly, 

“Out?”

“Somewhere nice, my treat.”

Daniel hopes that this gets it across, his hand has found Max’s across the tabletop and rests them together with feigned confidence. 

“Why?”

Daniel thinks quickly, flashing a grin and a wink before Max moves his hand. 

“Maybe I just want to see you all dressed up Maxy.”

It makes Max smile and Daniel considers it a win. Max nods and after breakfast they go for a run, and Daniel heads back home. He calls Charles to find a restaurant that's nice but out of the public eye, he knows Max hates public interference at these things. Charles badgers him about the lucky lady and Daniel laughs it off, he makes some fancy reservation for Friday at 8 and texts Max the details, tells him he will pick him up. Daniel collects the keys for his McLaren and makes sure his curls are tamed enough to look good. 

✦✴❀~13~❀✴✦

He has settled on a nice linen shirt, it's white and pressed free from any wrinkles, the pants are black and the smooth kind that make him look thinner than he is. His shoes are freshly polished and he selects pieces of gold to match the watch on his left wrist. At 7:20 he picks Max up, revving the engine as he wiggles his brows, it makes Max laugh. 

Max is wearing a navy blue shirt, its satin of some sort, maybe silk? The buttons are done up except for the top two, and he looks absolutely radiant like this. He opens the car door and Daniel feels his heartrate return, pulse thudding in his ears. 

“Buckle up Maximus Decimus Meridius.”

He lets the nickname roll off his tongue and soon enough he is whizzing through the streets of downtown Monaco, the sun long since set behind the glowing of the city lights. 

Max doesn't say much, his eyes trained out the window as the hum of the radio softens the atmosphere. Within 15 minutes they arrive at the place, and Daniel valleys the car, because while not a world champion, he is a retired Formula 1 eight time grand prix champion and he has plenty of money for a good time. 

Max is quick to follow the server inside and towards a private area at the top floor of the absurdly large restaurant. They are secluded in the corner, and the lights above their table bathe the space in a warm mood lighting, Max eyes the roses on the table with uneasiness and Daniel worries for a moment that he might have gone too far. 

If he has, Max doesn't comment on it, sitting across from him before the server leaves them with a wine list and two menus. Daniel didn't think much about how the atmosphere might make Max feel and for a moment he worries this wasn't the correct move, but Max seems to relax into the menu, idling chatting over entree options and Daniel feels himself ease up a bit. Max selects some sort of pasta dish, he always liked pasta, and Daniel is left to decide over the steak or some shrimp dish. He decides to get both, leftovers are never a bad idea. 

They order, and Daniel picks a reasonable bottle to complement their food. It's not the most expensive, but it's a name he recognizes and thinks Max will like. Max doesn't enjoy wine as much, prefers something harsher and warmer in his throat, but Daniel remembers Max liked the strawberry kind, and it's a crime to have a date without wine, so he orders it regardless. 

When they do get their food, Max is ravenous, Daniel watches him politely dig into his pasta, swirling each of the saucy lengths around his fork before bringing them to his lips. The steak is perfect and he cuts into it with equal excitement, allowing the richness of flavour to seep across his mouth, Max looks brilliant under the warm lighting and Daniel feels his heart swell again. He is doing it, he is on a date with Max and it is going well. 

When the woman returns again to clear their plates and present a single plate of cheesecake in front of them, Daniel watches all of Max’s nerves melt away. For half a second he thinks of feeding Max a bite of the desert, watching his lips wrap around Daniel's outstretched fork. He decides against the idea, is it too romantic, too sappy? Even the consideration of it makes Daniel feel embarrassed, get it together Dan, you aren't 16. 

He watches Max enjoy the cheesecake, enjoy the wine, and while he declines the glass Max offers him, he happily digs into the richness of the cheesecake. It seems funny though to know he is approaching one year of sobriety soon, Blake will be happy to know that. The thought descends over him that this is the first time he has been in the presence of alcohol without the familiar weight of his sobriety chips in his pocket, and somehow he still feels just fine. Max affects him in ways alcohol wishes it could, and so the new high is enough to make him forget about the wine all together. 

When Max is done, Daniel offers him his arm and they leave the restaurant filled with good food and laughter. He turns the radio up in the car, rolls the windows down as they drive home, Daniel’s hands going stiff on the steering wheel as he debates if this next part is worth it. He presses the gas with more confidence as he makes his descion, fuck it. 

He parks and drags Max out in front of his building, both of them laughing and brilliant as Daniel trails down to the ocean’s edge. Max follows him with an air of freedom and something so definitely Max about him that it makes Daniel feel light headed. Max’s shirt is more unbuttoned now, pale chest becoming more apparent as he joins Daniel’s side, Daniel remembers the last time he was here, face down, drunk. Max remembers it too. They don't mention it and the nerves buzz through Danny like waves of electricity. Each moment he feels the air around them become more charged, and in this beautiful place, Daniel decides its time. 

Max is oblivious, slightly buzzed and staring out at the ocean as the familiar rhythmic crash of the waves lulls over them. His hair is slightly mused by the car window being down on the ride home and he pays Daniel no attention as Daniel reaches for Max’s hand. Max grabs his hand and for a moment Daniel feels like the world has frozen in place, Max’s hand is sweaty and Daniel’s is soft but confident as it holds him. 

He turns to Max, presses his other hand to the side of his face, fingers pressing softly against all of Max’s sharp edges, and like this, he thinks anyone would be a fool to not love Max. Max, who is perfectly unperfect, Max who has waited for him even after changing so much. Max who has matured and shifted and moved on from everything Daniel knew. Max, who is right in front of him now, looking at him with those beautiful blue eyes that Daniel still can't read yet. 

“Maxie,”

He leans in because that is all he can think to do, all he has wanted to do since he saw Max again. But Daniel’s hand is wet and when Max pushes him away, Daniel sees him, his cheeks are wet with tears and Daniel feels a weight drop to the very bottom of his stomach. 

“Dont Daniel.”

He wants to scream at him, pull him to his chest and hold Max until he tells him what could possibly be wrong. Wants to understand what is so complex about this that even as he is staring at everything he has ever wanted he can't have it. His voice is cracked and broken when he speaks, it's pleading and begging and Daniel wants to drop to his knees right here in the waves.

“Why Maxie? Why?”

Max’s tears are no longer silent, Daniel feels his heart seize as Max breaks into ugly choking sobs, he turns away, and Daniel has only ever seen him like this once. It's the same way he was after Baku and everything in Daniel's mouth goes sour. Well done Baku. 

“This isn't funny Daniel.” 

“It's not a joke Max.. I-”

“Dont you dare say that, you don't get to say that, not after i've spent 9 years trying to get over you, you can't pretend to love me Daniel. Not when I still do.”

His eyes are glistening and for a moment Daniel feels like he sees everything too late, he begs his mind to catch up. Begs his mouth to open, to explain, because he does love Max, he loves him so much, but it's all happening too quickly and he can't do anything to stop it. The moment feels like a nightmare, one that he is watching screaming at himself to wake up but it's real, it's so real and Daniel feels sick, because Max is turning to leave and it's 2018 all over again except Max is the one leaving and Daniel can't do anything to stop it. He begs, cries after him, does anything he can, because Max has been the reason Daniel can smile and now he is leaving and how the fuck is he supposed to live without Max? 

But Max does leave, and Daniel just drops to his knees, lets the waves lick over his clothes, salty water pressing against his skin. He doesn't say anything he wants to, he can't and after what feels like an eternity he gets up and leaves. 

By some good grace Pierre is still awake. Daniel doesn't know what time it is, just knows that Pierre’s house is the only place he knows by heart and if he goes back home he isn't sure what will happen. The security guard is asleep as Daniel steps out of the elevator, moving with haste to the pale blue door. Pierre answers with an irritated look before morphing to concern at Daniel's appearance, he knows he looks like shit, no need to hide that from anyone here. His eyes are dense and his cheeks are red and blotchy, his hair is mused and the linen of his shirt is crumbled. His pants are soaked from the waves and Daniel wishes for a moment that he could just drown everything away. 

Pierre steps aside to let him into his much too nice penthouse and doesn't ask any questions until Daniel is settled on the sofa. He returns with a glass of water and a blanket and Daniel feels so fucking guilty that he pushed all of these people away. Shaky hands grasp his water like a lifeline and when he swallows it feels raw and broken. His hands fuss with the glass, struggling to keep it steady, to keep the liquid inside. 

For a while he just cries, spends his time wetting the side of Pierre’s sofa because fuck he hasnt had a good cry in a long time and let him be damnened if he cant cry a bit. Pierre doesn't speak, lets him have a moment, it's as if deep down Pierre has always known that Daniel only cries like this when it's about Max. When Daniel finally does speak it is much too late but his body won't let him free of the moment and so he tells Pierre everything. 

It reminds him of when he called his mum, told her it was all over. Told her he got sacked from VCARB. He had sobbed and screamed and felt everything too much before turning to slam that door behind him one last time. 

Pierre sits and listens, because he is annoyingly good at that and Daniel feels a slight bitterness raise when Pierre seems overly simple about the whole situation. 

“Max has never had anyone stay Daniel. He doesn't believe you do love him.” 

Daniel wants to snap at him, because no shit. 

The whole thing seems utterly unfair and it makes Daniel consider going to Charles’s apartment until Pierre elaborates. 

“His father, sister, mother, you, Liam, Checo, Yuki, they all left Daniel. He can't trust that people are going to stay, and so he will always run first, he doesn't believe you love him because he doesn't understand that he is deserving of that, doesn't see why anyone would love him, why you would love him especially if you left.”

And that is where Daniel feels himself break, because Pierre is right, Max has never hated him, he has been afraid of him. Somehow that makes it all worse and he feels his chest brimming with emotion once more. 

Daniel feels the sickening realization bloom like ivy in his ribcage, twisting and turning until it spills from his mouth in putrid green vines. Max believes that love means loss, and Daniel? Daniel taught him that. 

✦✴❀~14~❀✴✦

Daniel isn't sure when he succumbed to sleep, sometime in the night, after Pierre had gotten him to lie down, drink his water and he assumes his body just gave in. The exhaustion is another reminder of his age and the whole thing is just wrapped in never ending layers of shit. 

When the morning comes Pierre makes him breakfast, its coffee and eggs, two pieces of toast. Pierre sets the dish down in front of him and it's simple, almost too simple. Daniel eats it and yet feels like the emptiness in his chest consumes it all into sawdust the second it touches his lips. 

The coffee burns, it's much too bitter and it irritates his throat as it slides down into his core. It warms him slightly if not anything else. It's nothing fancy, not as far as meals go, but it feels underserved. 

They sit in silence for a while until Pierre speaks up. 

“Eat.”

He tries, feeling pitiful as he pushes his eggs around on the plate, each bite seemingly more daunting than the last one. After what he deems is enough, Pierre takes the plate from him, rinsing it in the sink before placing it on the rack to dry. Daniel watches the water drip from it, each splash barely breaking the silence. 

Daniel can't focus on anything that isn't Max, and the weight of the situation holds heavy in his chest. 

“He is probably gone, isn't he?”

He doesn't make any attempt to hide the tears in his eyes when he speaks. 

Pierre looks regretful, Daniel knows he knows, follows his gaze from the granite counter to the stack of teacups by the sink. They are the same ones Daniel used last time, and just as before their branches seem to daunt him, personification of the ivy in his chest. 

His hand is trembling, each spasm more tiring, it's another reminder. A reminder of everything he has lost. It makes him sick. 

“Most of the drivers flew out this morning.” 

Most drivers. 

Pierre leaves the door open, hints at a possibility, and Daniel grasps it because God be damned if he hasn't fought for anything. God be damned because he let everything else slip from his fingers, and now he has a chance, it's slim and almost nonexistent but Daniel will take it because it's Max, it's always been Max, and he thinks it always will be. 

He asks about the flight information, Pierre tells him he is flying out tonight. Lets him know he can come. And Daniel doesnt hesitate because this is his chance, and fuck if Max doesnt want to see him, he is going after him because he didnt before, because no one else has and even if he rejects him again, Daniel will know he tried. 

He grabs his keys from the counter and thanks Pierre before rushing home. He is much too tired and he barely registers the speed limits as he makes his way back down each street. They are familiar now, daunting in a way that makes Daniel feel ill and invigorated at the same time. It sets fresh air in his lungs, and he barely registers when he passes his own building, heading straight to Max’s place. It's a long shot, but he has to know. 

Max’s staircase never gets less terrifying, and as Daniel rushes up it, feet claddering obnoxiously - and almost slipping on the second to last step, he is face to face with the same tension from that first night. He doesn't bother knocking, Max won't answer. And so he finds the familiar key and presses it to the lock. 

Max’s flat is empty, their dishes are still in the sink and a note of instructions for the cats is written on the table. It makes Daniel’s chest ache, and even after expecting it, he feels a sense of desperation seep in. He checks every room, hoping that maybe, just maybe he will find his Max fast asleep, making lunch, anything but gone. 

The last room he checks is Max’s bedroom, it's the first time he has seen Max’s bed unmade, the covers are thrown about and in the middle of it Sassy stretches. She greets Daniel with a sense of knowing and Daniel feels his chest constrict farther. He drops to his knees, letting another round of emotion flow through him like a wave. He screams, because that's the only way that seems fit to express, his hands shaking from exertion. 

Sassy skids under the bed and Daniel feels immediate regret, great, nice one dan. But Jimmy pops up from inside a cardboard box by the window. Daniel recognizes it, a box of merchandise prototypes Max had been sent, stupid things like shirts and hoodies. He approaches it with a sort of reverence, afraid of spooking another cat, Jimmy seems less concerned, purring contently as Daniel lifts him from the box. 

“Your dad wouldn't be too happy if you got all this covered in your hair mate.”

He scolds Jimmy halfheartedly, mostly because he needs something to do, some sort of distraction. He knows that Max couldn't give less of a shit if all these clothes got covered in cat hair, chances that he looks through this box at all are slim to none already. Curiosity stirs in Daniel, and so he places Jimmy down to search through the box. It's another distraction, something to keep him from making this choice. 

Beneath a stack of 2025 World Champion Shirts, he finds an abhorrently bright orange cape. On the back is Max's lion, printed in glossy black so it stands out against the hunting orange. It's so stupid and extravagant he can only imagine Max’s European fans wearing it proudly. It's the same one he wore so long ago, and the irony of it here stirs something definitive in him. The thought makes him smile slightly, and so he thanks Jimmy, taking the cape before making Max’s bed and locking the door behind him. 

Once in his own flat, he pulls any shirts he can out of his closet, shoving them in his suitcase before shooting a text to Pierre. 

Ready. 

✦✴❀~15~❀✴✦

April 29th, 2018. 

Daniel remembers the exact moment of panic when he breaks just too late, his car screeching into the back of Max’s before pushing them both into the straight. Now, he would be grateful that there wasn't a wall, it could have been much worse. The panic lasted only a second before dissolving into pure rage. 

Max had been so fucking arragant, talking to the press like he didnt just fuck over Daniel, like he didnt just make everything so much worse. His seat was already in trouble from Max and now he was trying to start shit with him? 

The walk to his driver room was long and short all at the same time, he waves off media shutting the hospitality door too harshly behind him. Only when he is in the privacy of his own room does he let it out, slams the wall so hard his hand punches through it, red and bloodied, he does it again before letting his anger simmer out into something more quiet. 

The wall he has punched, Max’s wall. The realization comes like a clarity that makes him both angrier and guiltier. For a moment he listens, hears the silence, and decides he is safe just before a sniffle breaks him out of it again. Fuck. 

Daniel knows about Jos, he will never comment on it because Max would never speak to him again, and the guy is too bought into Redbull to just be removed. Regardless he hates the guy, hates the way he hears him, hates the way that Max’s bruises only stopped when he became the media’s newest interest. They only stopped when there were cameras. 

He leaves the room to find Max, opening his driver's room door without knocking, and all anger dissolves momentarily when he sees him, curled into the side of his sofa. Sobs shake his body and Daniel feels himself go sick. 

Of course Max would be scared of his outbursts, he is behaving like fucking Jos Verstappen, and that makes him sour. 

When he approaches Max, soft and slow and whispering apologies, promises that he would never ever lay a hand on him like that, he is once again surprised. 

“It is not of course because of your anger Daniel, it is because I do not want you to leave. I made a mistake and I'm sorry, please do not leave me.” 

It's pathetic and begging and selfish and so selfless at the same time. It turns Daniel on his head because of course he is still furious, it was a beyond dangerous move that put both him and the team at risk, but Max is so afraid and he could care less if Daniel did want to hit him, he just doesn't want Daniel to leave. And right there Daniel feels his heart seize. Because this isn't a crush, whatever this is, as he sits with Max and holds him, this is forever, this isn't something he could ever leave behind. And maybe he hasn't always loved Max, but he knows now that he does, and always will. 

The memory burns into him like a bruise behind Daniel’s eyes when he wakes. Its layers of ugly green, yellow and some deep purples swirling, head heavy, mouth dry. The plane comes to a stop as it shudders with the force of the runway, the familiar thud of the landing seals any amount of sleep left from Daniel. He blinks to clear away the blurry membrane, looking around at the first class area. 

He knows they have flown with several other drivers, sees Alex trying to wake George out of the corner of his eye, it hits Daniel with a creeping warmth seeing everyone like this. These people are a family, and odd one, but they are Max’s family, and by extension his family too. 

Australia should welcome him with open arms, take him in and remind him of home, but it feels different as he steps into the warm air. It smells heavy of citrus and the humidity is just enough to revive Daniel’s curls. The atmosphere is his home, it's bright and makes him think of just how much he missed this place. Australia is different from Monaco, different from Texas or LA, its home, it's a place with memories of running barefoot in the sunshine, playing footie and jumping bikes. It has always been where his heart resides, except now things feel different. 

He texts his mum and sister, tells them he is home for a race. They respond with emmojis and exclamations and pride, and fuck that breaks Daniel a little bit, beucase regardless of anything Daniel has always been welcome home with the warmest smiles and tightest hugs. 

He checks into his hotel late Wednesday, resting down into the bed sheets like a starfish. He stretches out so that every part of him is covering the comically small bed. It's endearing, childish and relaxing in a way he hasn't had in the past 48 hours, and so he plugs his phone in and decides he will track Max down tomorrow. 

When Daniel wakes up to the stretch of sunlight creaking through the blinds by his bed he stretches with a grunt and brews himself a cheap cup of coffee. He hasn't splurged on a hotel, it's some Holiday Inn he booked last minute. He is lucky they had space at all, the city is full of buzz for the race, but his name does wonders here and so he isn't surprised when he magically gets his booking through, the hotel staff smiling at him when he does descend into the lobby, freshly showered and feeling slightly better than before. It's Thursday, media day, and Daniel has already called an Uber to take him to the track, his nerves are worked up to see Max, and everything seems to be going in his favor until his phone buzzes. 

Pierre: I'd wait to talk to him today mate, he is in a rancid mood. 

It's to be expected, but Daniel feels another swell of guilt, of course he has picked Max’s worst week to confess his undying love for him. Typical Dan. So he shifts plans, thinks of something different, it's last minute and quick but he knows Michelle is here, and so he swipes to open their text chain. 

He offers to take her out to lunch and she gladly accepts, secretly Daniel is grateful. He misses his family, and his sister has always been someone he can trust, so he goes. It's some smaller restaurant, the spitting of oil heard among voices, he orders something greasy and she talks to him with enthusiasm he hasn't had in ages. Seeing her almost makes him cry, and so, over the delicacies of Austrailla he spills everything. 

It ends somewhere around Daniel laughing awkwardly, and Michelle standing up to give him a hug. And Daniel feels stupid for never telling her, because she assures him that it's all okay, that she still loves him even if he is gay or bi or whatever. She grabs his hand, gives it a squeeze and tells him that she is happy for him. But her eyes carry a hope that makes Daniel’s chest feel lighter, it's the hardest thing he has told her since he told her he was quitting F1, its scarier than admitting he was in rehab, its scarier than his crashes, and in a blink the weight is lifted from his shoulders because she is honest, and he knows she means it when she tells him its okay. 

It's overwhelming in a way he can't explain and positive in a way that is so welcomed. She makes jabs at him, points out hot guys that walk past and everything feels oddly normal. He hesitates, briefly reconsiders before sharing the entire truth. 

“Actually there is someone.” 

And she stops at that, her mouth turning in a smile that tells him she already knows. But she is patient, waits for him to speak, her thumb rubbing softly over the back of his hand again in a way that eases him out of any remaining nerves. 

“Max.”

And she breaks into a soft laugh, because of course it's Max, the awkward boy he brought home so many years ago, the boy who he shared a room with, his team mate, his best friend, of course it would be Max. 

She asks if they are dating and Daniel grimaces, because this is the less fun part of the story. So he tells her the past few weeks and watches her face switch between sadness, anger and finally pity. It makes his stomach knot a bit and he feels a little guilty. 

“You are here to tell him you love him right?” 

Her remark takes him off guard, and she looks at him with the same determination and hope she had when he had told her about Renault, McLaren, VCARB. It softens his heart and he just nods to her, scraping his plate with his fork the only way he knows how. 

“If he will listen that is.”

“He will Danny.” 

They move on from there, speaking about his plans and he promises to spend Christmas with them, says he is holding out hope for Monaco, and the reason why hangs in the air. When the sky has begun to darken Daniel realizes just how long they have spent in the restaurant and he leaves an overly generous tip mostly out of embarrassment. He doesn't want to say goodbye to her, but when he does he hugs her so tightly he can hear her squeak. It's sweet and endearing and he smiles the entire way back to the hotel. Tomorrow he will meet with Max, for now he showers and sleeps. 

✦✴❀~16~❀✴✦

Friday morning is bright and jet lag hits him harder than before, it's midmorning when he rises, the beginning of afternoon when he actually makes the effort to get out of bed and drink his cup of coffee. This time his hand shakes, and the coffee spills. 

The flatscreen plays FP1, and Daniel watches Max charge the pack, his times are through the roof. He has a full second on Norris and the car seems to be behaving exactly how he likes. Daniel has never doubted Max’s ability to tame a car, but to give him a car that tames him is something Daniel has yet to see. 

When he enters the paddock, full of the buzz of race week. Journalists are running with cameras and microphones, snapping photos of everything they can. He isn't surprised when he is bombarded with fans and press, this is the first time he has returned to a race since everything and Daniel doesn't have to open his phone to know that every social media is buzzing. 

He makes his way to the Alpine garage, giving Pierre a loving clap to the back before he is shunted out by various mechanics and engineers buzzing around Pierre. Daniel remembers this, the stress of communicating how a car felt to drive, how specifically different things could be improved. 

He hasn't ever been that great with words and he remembers the exhaustion his engineer had with him after being told the car was “too bouncy.” He lets Pierre be, moving onto the other garages to bump fists or shoulders with his old pals, he meets the newest rookies, smiles for pictures with them. The time before FP2 is ticking away and Daniel is uneasy, he catches sight of Max across the straight and his heart freezes for a moment. Just as he is able to free himself Max has disappeared and FP2 has begun, it makes him cuss, ducking away into the paddock in search of some shade and something cold. 

He orders something orange and citrusy, it's non alcoholic and makes his tongue tingle in a way that satisfies him enough to finally sit down. His eyes are trained to the track and so when he hears the crowd gasp and the familiar scrape of metal against the pit wall his heart stops, it's exactly what he remembers and it takes everything Daniel has to hold his breath and remind himself that he is here not down there. That wasn't him. He is okay. 

Oscar or the wall. 

It's a tentative moment and once his mind relaxes his body tenses as they show an overturned Redbull. 

He sits up so fast, runs to the garages and his heart stops. His Max, fuck, his heart is racing, and only after he sees Hadjar get out of the car, does his nerves finally settle. It wasn't Max’s car. The adrenaline dowses him in cold memory as he calls it a day. 

✦✴❀~17~❀✴✦

Saturday comes and he knows the morning will be occupied with FP3 and press before qualifying. He knows he isn't likely to get a chance to see Max, he goes to bed absurdly early before race nights - ever since his sim race ban at least. And so Daniel watches Max sweep the field and secure provisional pole before Daniel decides to meet up with Blake. 

They go to some club like they are in their 20’s again and Daniel runs into Hedi among the other masses of people. She looks good, dances with Daniel a bit before returning to some tall blonde by the exit. He loses sight of her after that, and part of him is glad. They had a good run, but it wasn't a clean break and honestly Daniel thinks he couldn't stand to have a genuine conversation with her now. It's a difference of worlds and so after only an hour Daniel tells Blake he is heading out. 

The evening air is cooler and it is quiet in a way that makes Daniel’s ears slightly ring. He catches Carlos on the way back to his hotel and they speak briefly before Daniel lets him go. It's a world he never thought he would leave behind, but it's a firm reminder that things have changed. The stars above him shine like pinpricks of light and they keep him company until he makes his way back to his hotel room for the night. 

✦✴❀~18~❀✴✦

Sunday he gets up on time, and makes the horrifying realization that his clean clothes are coming to an end, and so he doesn't think much when he pulls the abhorrent orange cape out of his bag. His nerves seize in his throat while he dresses and he has to take several deep breaths before he even dares to enter the paddock. 

He passes a group of fans who shower him in friendship bracelets and selfies, and one asks him who he wants to win. He tells them Max because that's the truth, and among the squealing one offers to paint him a dutch flag. It takes Daniel two seconds to think it through and before he can consider the potential repercussions of this he enthusiastically agrees, letting her paint the stripes in neat colour on his cheeks. 

He knows he looks like a clown, feels even more like it as the time begins to tick down closer to the race. He is weaving in and out searching for Max before by some miracle he finds him. They are tucked away, behind the garage in between tyre racks. Max doesn't listen to music, but he is sitting, grounding himself like Daniel remembers him doing. 

“Max.”

It's more commanding than he intends it to be, his name tipping off his tongue too soon. Max jolts a bit, clearly startled, and his body seems to tense when those blue eyes lock with Daniel’s. He stands and the weather around them begins to spit more, droplets pressing to Daniel’s skin as the breeze urges them to fall down his cheeks, leaving behind streaks of colour that meld between blue, white and red. It's humiliating and Daniel can feel Max’s gaze heavy on him. 

“What the hell are you wearing?”

It makes Daniel laugh, because Max is absolutely right, he honestly has no idea what he is doing, but Max is just in front of him now, and so he rolls with it. 

“Im supporting my favourite driver, obviously”

It makes Max crack a faint smile and Daniel feels his chest tighten. 

“You look like a traffic cone” 

“That's - okay, yeah that's fair.” 

“Why are you here Daniel?”

It's a tone that carries skepticism, uneasiness, an edge that Daniel doesn't recognize. But he takes a deep breath, because this may be his only chance to tell Max this, he prays to any deity that Max might hear him. 

“I, I've been trying to catch you for the past 5 days Max, we need to talk.” 

The drivers are lining up for the anthem and Daniel can feel Max begging to grow uneasy. 

“Daniel I don't have the time now, I have to go.”

“Please Max. Please.”

It's pitiful, but raw and honest and Daniel hopes, no, begs that just for a moment Max will stay, and will hear him out. He looks so beautiful even like this, and the image makes Daniel’s heart ache, he wants so badly to kiss him. 

Max hesitates, but nods, and Daniel knows his time has begun ticking down. When he speaks the words are foreign on his tongue, raw and unplanned in ways that he hasn't expected, but they feel right and Daniel can only hope they get everything across to Max. 

“Max, I haven't been able to talk to you because I've been scared, the same way I was eight years ago and everyday I think about what a mistake that was and I'm trying to not let that happen here.”

His voice falters. 

“I love you Max. I know that now, and I was honest when I said that I wanted this, I love you max, I love you so much I feel fucking stupid for ever pretending that I didnt.” 

He knows he must look insane, it's raining properly now and the last call is being done for the anthem. He has run out of time. 

“Max, it's always been you.” 

For a moment Max just stands in front of him, and after what seems like an eternity Max moves, his hands are around Daniel and before he can comprehend any of it Max has pressed a kiss to his cheek. It leaves his lips purplish from the paint but for the first time in years Daniel can read Max’s eyes. 

“Wait for me after the race.”

And Max is gone, but everything else seems so much clearer now. Because maybe Max was never the one who changed, maybe, Daniel thinks Max has always been Max, and Daniel was the one who had to change. 

He makes his way to the garage and GP hands him a headset before pulling him into a hug. It's a sense of community that makes him remember that they always called him Daniel, even after everything. 

He watches the race with eager eyes, feels his heart tense as Max understears, breathes a sigh of relief when he is able to correct it. He leaps up when Max does round his winning lap, celebrating with the team. It's both the longest and fastest two hours of his life. GP hugs him so tight Daniel thinks he might break and somewhere he swears he hears someone telling him to “go get his man.” 

When Max walks out on the podium Daniel is in the crowd, watching him spray the champagne and embrace the first of many wins this season. He is beaming and here it is without a doubt in Daniel’s mind that Max and racing are one in the same. It had never been him missing this, it had always just been Max. 

His heart races as he waits for Max, GP has been kind enough to unlock his drivers room for him to wait in. Daniel remembers the press, the obligatory sponsor meetings, the pictures, he knows Max will be there for a while, he is lucky if Max is even able to come back within the hour. But his mind runs wild with hope. Max had heard him and his eyes had been blue with hope, blue with things he wanted to say, and Daniel feels like he is in some void where time refuses to pass until he knows what exactly Max is going to do. 

At some point he doeszed off, but Max is there waking him up gently and saying something about getting on a plane. Daniel is confused, groggy with sleep and emotional exhaustion and he feels his heart go soft, because Max is here. 

He doesn't remember much about Max driving him back to his hotel, remembers less of how he ends up in a comfortable seat on Max’s private jet. By the time he really does wake up they are halfway back to Monaco on Max’s private jet. Max is fast asleep next to Daniel, his head lulled onto Daniel’s side, and it eases Daniel. Max has yet to tell him anything but this already is better than it was. 

Max’s phone is buzzing angrily on his lap and Daniel lets curiosity drive his hand as he lifts it. His wallpaper, an image of Penelope with his cats, illuminates the cabin. Its passcode locked and Daniel decides to just give it a try, he thumbs over 2021 and is moderately pleased when it unlocks for him. The slew of messages come from Vicky, they range from scolding Max for leaving early and asking if he requires any medical assistance. 

The sight makes Daniel chuckle, because he remembers the first time he had convinced Max to skip media, do just the bare minimum before hopping on an earlier flight and flying home. They had both been chewed out for it and the thought makes Daniel smile. 

He places the phone back down, decides to not snoop too much and lets himself attempt to sleep a little more, ease back into his rhythm. He feels uneasy with anticipation, but Max is asleep and he wouldn't dare to wake him like this and so he relaxes back into his seat. 

When they do land it wakes both Max and Daniel up. Max has a driver take them back to his apartment, and Daniel doesn't question it, just sits in comfortable silence as he watches the sun disappear over the skyline once more. 

They don't take the steps to Max's apartment, preferring the elevator because of their luggage, but Max unlocks the door to his house just as the night has begun to seep in, thick black enveloping the air around them. 

He sets his things down just at the doorway and Daniel feels his throat constrict, if Max doesn't speak soon Daniel thinks he might just die. And so he clears his throat, hoping to catch Max’s attention. 

“Maxy, you are killing me mate.” 

If Max does hear him, he ignores him in favor of walking out on his balcony instead and Daniel follows because if he doesn't get an answer in the next hour he thinks the drop from the balcony might be enough to do him in. Some part of Daniel has always followed Max and so he steps out beside him, enjoying the soft cool air as the lights dance around them. 

“I won my first championship for myself.” 

It isn't what Daniel expects Max to say, but he remains quiet, letting Max speak. 

“My second one was for my mother and Victoria.”

Daniel remembers that one, struggles to connect them in his mind. 

“My third was for P and Kelly.” 

He holds in a breath. 

“My fourth one was for my dad.” 

Max stops for a moment and Daniel feels himself asking. 

“And the fifth?"

Max turns to him now, his eyes shining with the city lights, he looks so vulnerable like this, and Daniel knows deep down he is. Max has never been the monster the media has made him out to be, Max has always just been Max. Daniel wants to kiss him so badly. 

“For you Daniel.”

He doesn't know what to say, what he can say, his mouth is dry and he feels like everything has gone to slow motion again. 

“I just wanted you to know you could come home, I thought maybe if I won then,”

His voice trails off and Daniel realizes that this had been Max's own wish, some special pact with him and whatever else was out there, that maybe if he won they would bring Daniel back. And that makes him smile. Makes his skin bunch around his eyes as he grins, because Max hasn't changed at all. Max has always been waiting for him to return. 

“I love you Daniel, I always have.” 

This time Daniel looks at Max and before he can act on it, Max is the one pulling him in. His lips are soft and warm and there is scruff where Daniel has only known smooth and it feels so right. It is like fireworks have exploded within Daniel as he holds Max, his hands immediately grasp his waist, boxy and firm and so different. It feels so right and when they do pull apart he pulls Max into a hug, because fuck, he loves him so much, and Max, Max loves him too. Max always has, he was just waiting for Daniel to come home. 

✦✴❀~19~❀✴✦

They sleep in Max’s bed, pressed against each other skin to skin as the sun shines across the floor. Daniel kisses Max when he wakes up, slow and sweet and reverent. It's nothing like any partner he has ever had, nothing like any he will ever have, because this is Max. His Max. 

Max wraps his arms around Daniel’s waist as they make breakfast and he kisses along the marks of the night before on Daniel’s neck. It's soft and welcoming and theirs. Max’s hand fits perfectly with Daniel’s and maybe this is all too fast, but it feels correct and it's been so long to get her. Daniel is sure they will laugh about it when they are older, but for now it feels new and every touch is consuming. It's an attempt to convince themselves that this is real, that they aren't leaving. 

It's different and perfect and everything Daniel has been searching for, and suddenly moving forward with Max doesn't seem so scary. Because whatever this is, it's the two of them finally, and Daniel thinks there isn't anything he couldn't do with Max at his side. With Max’s sweaty palm on his own. No, this is everything he has ever wanted, because Max is racing and Monaco and Perth, Max is sunrises and sunsets and the ocean, and Daniel is so in love with him. And Max? Max is in love with Daniel too. 

✦✴❀~20~❀✴✦

Epilogue: 

There isn't any official announcement. Max comes with Daniel to Perth for spring break, they feed him too much and Daniel’s mother embraces him like a son. Daniel goes to every one of Max’s races, he always wears something loud and orange, and his cheeks always have shitty dutch flags painted on them. Fans speculate, but they always do, and neither Max nor Daniel really care what they say about them. 

Max moves into Daniel’s apartment and his cats enjoy scratching up Daniel’s sofa. It's natural and time goes on. They sleep in each other's arms, and wake to the sunrise through Daniel’s yellow curtains. Penelope and Kelly become part of Daniel’s life and he spends his time teaching P about the parts of his dirtbike, or going on impromptu ice cream trips. 

Daniel goes to his meetings, collects his chips, stays sober. Max goes with him sometimes. He and Max wear matching bracelets and they adopt a new dog at some point. They play padel with the grid as often as time allows, Daniel supports Max’s chase for a 6th WDC and everything seems to fall into place. They hold hands, text each other hearts, Daniel tells Max he loves him whenever he can. 

They speak more with their eyes than anything else, Daniel starts his Ford Racing career and jumps his Raptor with Max a few weekends out of the year. Max tries to teach Daniel FIFA, Daniel still sucks, but he joins Max’s simracing sometimes. It's comfortable and it feels right. 

Max still worries sometimes, never voices it, but Daniel senses it, does his best to prove he isn't leaving. Daniel still has his nightmares, but Max is there to hold him. And Daniel has decided that life is okay, because he has Max and life with Max is full of colour, it's full of emotion and adventure and even with the challenges Daniel feels he wouldn't trade this for anything.  

He thinks that maybe one day when Max is retired he might ask him a larger question, might seal things with paperwork. But he isn't rushed. 

Because he has Max. And Max hates orange juice, despises the stuff, but there is always orange juice in their fridge. And maybe that is all it took for Daniel to come back home.