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Max breathes in once, breathes out once, and claps his hands together as he stands up from the couch. "Okay, so this clearly is not working."
Lewis looks up at him, affronted. He's been staring at his phone for the last thirty minutes, chewing on his bottom lip and tapping his fingers on the arm of the couch between scrolls. Between Lewis kicking his feet every couple moments and unsuccessfully hiding his glances at Max, it's a miracle Max didn't say anything sooner.
"What's not working?" Lewis asks, shifting to face Max. By the tone of his voice, Max knows Lewis already realizes what he means.
Max simply tilts his head and spreads his hands out. "Our agreement. The one where we said no talking about the cars."
"But it wasn't a problem last year," Lewis argues, face hardening in frustration. His hands press against the fabric of the couch, heels of his palms digging in. "Why does it have to be now?"
"Because I had not beaten you in the championship last year, love," Max responds bluntly, reaching an open palm out toward Lewis.
He gets why Lewis is annoyed — they had no problems around testing last January. But Max has been thinking this through for the past two weeks. Things are different now. Max has a car, the car, that can actually compete. They can't just continue ignoring what happens on track when they're at home, never talking about races or acknowledging results in favor of stewing in silence.
Lewis sighs but places his hand atop Max's, lacing their fingers together and squeezing. "I know communication is good and all but..."
"But what?" Max presses, coming to sit down beside Lewis.
"I just-," Lewis shakes his head, cutting himself off. "What if it doesn't work?"
Max opens his mouth to respond but Lewis continues, "We talk and talk and talk but what if this falls apart anyway?"
Lewis's other hand flies up to grab at Max, fingers clenching into his forearm. Max waits him out, trying his best to keep his expression open. He's had a lot more time to think about this than Lewis and he doesn't want to do anything that would rush the other driver.
Eventually Lewis sits back, releasing Max's arm from his grip. "I don't want us to fall apart," he admits softly, eyes closing for a brief moment.
"I don't either, Lew," Max answers, voice thick as he moves closer to Lewis, pressing their sides together. "But you know this is not going to be easy."
"It isn't," Lewis says, nodding in agreement and squeezing Max's hand again. "You're worth it though."
Max feels his face warm as Lewis moves closer, tilting Max's head with a gentle hand to his jaw and pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek before shifting back. He can see Lewis smiling to himself as he returns to his little spot on the couch, pulling one of the blankets over his legs and humming under his breath.