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Max walks into GP’s office two days after the Japanese Grand Prix.
“Did you mean it?”
GP looks up from his computer and gives him a confused look.
“Did I mean what?”
“That you would stop when I stop? Leave when I leave? Will you do it?”
“Max?”
“GP.”
GP levels him with a stern look that makes him want to crawl back to where he came from. He realises he doesn’t really want to have this talk right now, or ever for that matter, but the can’s been opened and GP would not let him leave until they talked this over.
He stares back at his engineer, the man who had raised him, had taught him more than his actual father had, and had loved him more than anyone ever could.
“Close the door, please.”
Max closes the door before focusing back on GP. Neither of them say anything for a long time and Max is growing anxious waiting for the man who means so much to him to say something, to either make him feel better or to break his heart. He’s not sure he’s prepared to hear him say no, say that he didn’t mean it, so internally he prays it’s not. It can’t be. Max knows it’s been a while since that interview but GP had said it. Surely he still meant it. He had to. Max isn’t sure if he’ll survive if not.
“Max, I did. I meant what I said. If you go, I go.”
Relief floods him immediately. He wasn’t wrong. Max wasn’t wrong. GP wouldn’t leave without him. GP wouldn’t let him leave without going himself.
At the same time the tension leaves him, his body fills itself with dread. If GP would go with him, what does that mean for him? He somehow wishes GP would’ve said no. Because then Max could stay. He could stay at Red Bull, in Formula 1, try his best to ignore the horrible regulations and just keep going. But GP said yes. That means Max has to think about what to do. That means his future could be uncertain. Oh god, what did he do?
“What does this mean for you? Do you want to retire? Do you want to stop?”
The only thing Max can do is shrug. He doesn’t know. Sure, the past few days, hell even the past few weeks, he’s been threatening it more often than not. There is no day in the timeline of his career that the headlines about his potential retirement were realer than now. He’s not supposed to look at them, neither news articles nor social media posts. A lot are spitting fake news. But he can’t help but fall into the rabbit hole of seeing what people are saying about him. About the regulations, about the things he said to the media. He needs to know what they think. There is two sides that say he should retire. One that says he should just shut up and leave if he doesn’t like it, and one that tells him to retire and have peace again. And then there are another two sides that tell him to stay. One that says they would miss him and don’t want these regulations to take the love away from the sport he’s fought so hard for, and the other that tells him to stop whining and just drive because his parents had given up everything for him and who would he be if he didn’t repay them with success.
He’s lost count of how often he agreed with them. Yes, he is threatening to retire and some part of him really wants to because he’s just so tired of everything. But is he really ready for it yet? Ready to give up everything he worked so hard for over the years? He knows that he already achieved more than he ever dreamt of, but is it enough to feel satisfied? Enough to please his father?
He would be leaving behind the one thing that cost him so much of his life. Everything he went through since he was born, just to accomplish the dream of driving in Formula 1, all that would be gone.
His eyes start watering as the spiral continues in his head. He has to physically turn away from the man still sitting in front of him. He can’t let him see him cry, he can’t show how weak he is. He wasn’t raised to be weak, his father always made sure of that. He especially doesn’t want GP to see him this way. This was a terrible idea. He should’ve just sucked it up and kept going. But it was too late now. He is here and he is crying like a small child that was told no for the first time, in front of the man that means so much to him.
The sound of a chair scraping against the floor is startling him out of his thoughts. GP is standing up and walking towards him. He puts his hands on his shoulders and Max could cry even more at the comforting pressure.
Before he can say anything, though, GP guides him backwards and softly pushes him to sit on the sofa in the corner. Max has spent countless hours on this sofa, when they were reviewing data together or when the older man was under the impression that Max needed more sleep. Sometimes he comes in when he knows GP is working and doesn’t have time to entertain him and just sits there watching him, or he does his own work. Just existing in GP’s space is a very comforting thing, Max has come to realise.
GP sits down next to him, but doesn’t take his hands off his shoulders. Max doesn’t say anything, he’s not sure his voice would work anyway, but he leans into the touch. He tries to take it all in before it disappears.
“Max, look at me please.”
Max does not obey. He can’t bring himself to look up and see the disappointment he’s sure he will find on GP’s face. He doesn’t think he can handle it.
The hand on his right shoulder moves from its space towards his chin and gently lifts it up.
His teary blue eyes meet GP’s soft and warm brown eyes. Even through his blurred vision he can make out the expression his engineer is holding on his face. Max only ever sees this expression when GP looks at his own kid, and sometimes when he looks at him. Knowing what this means tugs at his heartstrings. Knowing this look is reserved for GP’s kid and him makes him feel hopeful that maybe he means as much to GP as the man does to him. He doesn’t look mad or disappointed. Right now, he looks like he wants to grab Max into a hug and never let him go ever again. Max thinks he’d be alright with that.
“Hey bud, what’s going on? Talk to me.”
And the softness of his tone, well that just makes Max cry even more.
But before he can curl away, or flee the room, or as a matter of fact do even anything, GP puts his arms around him and pulls him into a hug. Max lets his head be guided against the older man’s chest and just lets himself be held. And suddenly, Max really can’t stop crying.
It feels like everything is getting to him all at once. It feels impossible to breathe as sobs wreck his entire body. He shoves his face into GP’s chest, hiding away like he always had while crying. He was never allowed to. Whenever he felt sad as a kid, he would swallow the feelings down and be the perfect kid his father had raised. He never let anyone see that he never was perfect.
Being vulnerable in GP’s presence is no issue now, but back when they first started it was near impossible. It took Max three years not to freak out anytime he showed any emotion in front of anyone. Especially with GP it was difficult, as Max started looking up to the man from the very moment they met and he never wanted to disappoint him or give him any reason to see him as worth less than he is. When he finally broke down in 2019 after the, ironically, Japanese Grand Prix and talking with his father, GP had been the one to find him. Their relationship changed significantly that day.
Max never would’ve thought that that day would one day lead him to being cuddled up to his race engineer breaking down once again, only this time about his possible retirement.
And if he’s being honest the weirdest part about this is the possibility of his retirement. Never in his life did he think that one day all of this could end. He always thought he’d do this until he physically can’t anymore. Sure, that opinion changed quite a bit over the last few years. He wants to spend time with his family, especially now that Charles and he are expecting a little baby girl via surrogate. He doesn’t want to miss out on too much of her life. But he was never going to just leave Formula 1 behind, not this early anyway. He doesn’t feel like he has much of a choice though.
It takes Max quite a bit to calm down enough to breathe properly. He has no idea how long he’s been in GP’s office or what time it even is, when he finally pulls out of GP’s embrace to sit up a bit. He feels lightheaded going into a vertical position, and he closes his eyes for a second and breathes very carefully not to throw up. When he opens his eyes again, GP is standing in front of him, holding out an open bottle of water in his direction. That almost makes him cry again, as he realises how well this man just knows Max. It makes him feel seen and loved.
“Drink some water, but tiny sips. You’ll be okay.”
Max, for once, does what he’s told and hands the bottle back to GP when he’s done drinking. As he waits for whatever GP is going to say next, he looks down at his hands, puts them together and applies some pressure to them. It calms him down. After a while it hurts a little, but that’s exactly what helps Max. It’s not good, pain shouldn’t be his comfort. He knows that, but he can’t help himself sometimes. It’s how he learned to cope. And this is definitely better than the ways he used while growing up. GP showed him this way after he caught him one time. He wasn’t mad back then, he didn’t yell or anything. Just calmly helped him clean up, and then helped him some more by researching better methods to show him. This is just one of many. Max was very skeptical when GP told him to try it but it surprisingly helped a lot.
After a few moments of silence, Max looks up at GP, who, as it turns out, has just been staring at him. He can’t really tell what GP is thinking right now, with how neutral his facial expression is. It worries Max a bit, that he doesn’t know what to expect from him. So, he offers him a thin smile.
That apparently sets GP in motion, as the man sits back down next to him, but then also leans back far enough to almost lie on the sofa. Once he seems a bit more comfortable, he reaches out towards Max and pulls at him a little, as an invitation to lie down with him. Immediately Max follows suit and he practically sprawls out on top of GP. He settles his head on his chest, closes his eyes and just breathes for a bit. And when GP starts petting his hair, all the tension just melts out of his body.
Some time passes as they both just lie in the quiet, neither of them willing to break out of it. That is, until GP taps his hair just for a second, presumingly to get his attention, before resuming the repetitive motion. Max’s eyes flutter open for just a short moment and he hums quietly to show GP he’s listening. “Hmm?”
He feels GP’s chest rise higher than before, as the man takes a deep breath.
“Can you tell me what’s going on, bud? Just walk me through what you’re feeling please. I want to help you, but I can’t do that if you don’t tell me what’s happening in you.”
Max would rather not tell him, or tell anyone. He’d rather disappear forever, never to be seen again. Realistically, he’s aware that it’s not an option but he wishes for it. There are people he would, arguably, be off worse with right now though. GP was always gentle with him. It never hurts to tell him the truth. He trusts GP with the whole truth, with every good word, with every word that cuts deeper into his soul. With GP, he feels safe. So, he clears his throat and then starts speaking.
“I’m just so tired, GP. It’s not fun anymore. You know it, of course, the regulations suck massively. No one can drive like this. These batteries are not the point of racing. They are ruining this sport. And you’ve seen the future plans. It’s not going to get better. I don’t know for how long I can continue letting it rob me of my love for it.”
GP gently hums beneath him.
“What does this mean for you? Do you want to retire then?”
“I don’t know, that’s the issue. Maybe, maybe not. I love this sport more than anything. You know this. I don’t want to just leave it behind like it never meant anything. But I don’t know if I even really have a choice. I just don’t know what to do. You’re smart, you know me. Tell me what to do please.”
“Max, you know that I can’t make that decision for you. You have to decide this yourself. It’s your life, and your future.”
Max blinks away another set of tears that are threatening to come out and looks up at GP.
“Yes, I know. I just think that I can’t let it all be for nothing.”
“Let what be for nothing?”
“Everything he did to me.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“If I leave, retire, before I achieve everything I could possibly achieve. It would make everything he did to me for nothing. Every karting session with frozen fingers, in excessive heat, or with millions of bruises making every turn ache. Every race he drove me to, every training session we did together. Every method he used to get me to become perfect and to be here, to drive in Formula 1. If I leave, before I make him proud, before he, of course, says it’s enough, it would all be for nothing.”
“Oh Max.”
“Do not pity me. I am simply stating what is true.”
“I would never pity you, Max. But listen to me. You’re wrong. You-”
“I’m never wrong.”, Max interrupts him before his brain even catches up. It’s his reflex reaction to anyone ever saying he’s wrong, because he is never. At least that’s what he tells himself.
The look GP gives him in return is enough though to shut him up real fast. “Sorry, continue.”
“Thank you. Like said, you’re wrong right now. You already achieved so much. Way more than most drivers ever get to. If he isn’t proud of that, then he is, no offense, an asshole. You need to understand that what he put you through, doesn’t matter if off or on track, you didn’t deserve any of that. You hear me? Not a single bit of it. You were just a kid, when he tried to turn you into a machine. But you are not a machine. You’re a human being with feelings and I’m sorry that he never realised that. Because despite all of that, you turned from the reckless kid that you were into such an incredibly talented driver and an impeccable young man. And for what it’s worth, I really couldn’t be prouder of you.”
Now that makes Max stop in his tracks. If he had any less self control punched out of him as a kid, he’s sure he’d be bawling right now. He had desperately tried to get his fathers approval for anything, growing up and still as an adult now. Knowing he’s proud of him for whatever became his lifes mission. He just wanted to hear him say the words “I’m proud of you” once, and he swore he would never ask for anything ever again. And he did hear them, it was just once. Back in Abu Dhabi in 2021, after he finally did what he wanted to achieve for the first time. He had stepped out of his car, his legs barely working and his heart pounding with excitement. His father had been right there and he clung to him like he was a little kid who got lost in the store. He remembers crying endlessly and wishing he would never have to let go of his father because he did it and his father must be proud of him finally and it wasn’t all for nothing. Through his helmet he heard him whisper the words “I’m proud of you, son.” And for Max, that was everything. He’d done it. It made him try and hold his father even closer but the other decided it was enough and pushed him back, urging him to let go. Reluctantly he did, and the look on his fathers face he would never forget. To everyone else, it was the face of a happy father whose son has finally done the unthinkable. But Max knew him, he knew his facial expressions and he knew when to hide. In that moment, Max wished he could hide. The feeling of happiness didn’t disappear but it faded.
Max forgot about it for a while after, he was busy celebrating his first championship, getting drunk, and regretting everything when his head was pounding the next day. He lived in that bliss of pride for three days before finally returning home to Monaco to find his father in his apartment. It was lucky, he supposes, that Charles wasn’t at home but with his family. Trying to hide the bruises afterwards though, so he wouldn’t know what happened, was a different story though.
Before Max knew it, he was back to being pushed around, pushed to be better and better, because to his father now that he won once, it was expected of him to never lose again.
He told himself that his father just wanted what was best for him and once he won another championship, and maybe another one, his father would be proud of him again.
But Max never did hear those words from him again.
So hearing GP, the man who put up with him since the day he won his first ever race, the man who had been by his side for every win, every dnf, every moment he needed him, say them now. It means so much more. More than any words from his father ever could mean.
Max rapidly tries to blink the upcoming tears away, really not wanting to cry again, but fails miserably. He lets out a choked sob and turns his head to hide his face in GP’s chest again.
The chest underneath rumbles as GP lets out a breathless laugh and he goes back to comforting him.
Eventually Max pulls his head up a little to look up at GP, who is simply smiling at him like he is his whole world. All he can muster up is a light smile, knowing he must look absolutely ridiculous with his tearstreaked red face, before lying his head back down.
His voice is quiet as he mumbles. “Thank you GP.”
“Never for that, bud. Never for that.”
“Okay”
A few minutes of silence pass, the only sound heard being their own breathing. Then Max speaks up again, quietly. “I still don’t know what to do.”
GP hums. “That’s okay. You don’t have to have everything figured out.”
“If you say so.”
“I do.”
Max’s phone starts ringing in his pocket. He sits up slightly, pulls it out, and sees Charles calling him. Instead of answering though, he turns his phone off and puts it away again.
“Why aren’t you answering?” He turns to GP, who frowns at him.
“It doesn’t matter, I will call him back later.”
“You always answer when Charles calls. Why not now? What happened?”
Embarrassed, Max looks down at his hands. Sometimes he hates that GP knows him so well. There is nothing he can hide from him. “We might have had a fight. He is mad that I spoke to the media about the possibility of retiring before having a conversation with him about it. I wanted to, really, but I just couldn’t.”
“Okay, so explain to me why you didn’t talk to Charles about it yet.”
Max looks back up.
“How can I? He, of course, shouldn’t have to deal with my problems, not after all he’s been through. His team has made him suffer for so long. For years he had to watch me win race after race while his own team was fucking him over. And he’s never expressed any form of anger towards me. Sure, he is jealous at times but he is always happy for me, no matter how his race ended. Now they finally give him a good car, a fighting chance at the championship, and for some reason I stop being good enough and I immediately start complaining to him about it, threatening to retire and giving everything up. How would that be fair? How could I do that to him?”
GP puts his hands on his shoulders and presses down a little. “Max, breathe. Calm down.”
He obeys, taking deep breaths until his chest isn’t feeling like it's exploding anymore. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. Can I say something?”
“Yeah.”
“Good, okay. Max, you realise that your complaints are not for no reason. You’re not doing this just because you feel like it. Every driver knows how much these regulations suck, no matter how fast and successful their cars are this season. You are not the only one who feels like this. And Charles loves you more than anything. He’s never been bothered by you speaking up about these issues. He knows how badly all of this is hurting you. I would bet that he’s not even mad at you for talking to the press about it. I think he’s just worried about you not speaking to him. So, please, do me a favour and talk to him. Explain to him how you’re feeling and talk it out with him.”
Max feels like the words are stuck in this throat, so he just nods. He really doesn’t want to burden Charles with any of this, especially knowing how much he already has to deal with. But he also knows that GP has a point and that he can’t keep running away from that conversation, despite how much he wants to. “I’ll talk to him.”
“Thank you.”
He lies back down and makes his head comfortable on GP’s chest again. Naturally, his race engineers hands move back to his hair. Even though he can’t see his face anymore, he feels GP opening his move before closing it again. He listens to him do that two more times, before he finally nudges him.
“Just say what it is you want to say. It can’t be worse than any of this.”
Max hopes he will just say it instead of trying to talk around it. He hates when people do that and GP knows this.
“I got an offer.”
Max feels like his heart stops for a moment. He holds his breath. He doesn’t have to ask him to specify, he knows what it means. Knows what could, what might, happen. It’s just the question of whether he is prepared to hear it. He’s not, he decides, but GP trusts him with this information. So, whatever comes next, Max needs to trust him too, no matter how much it might break his heart.
“What offer?"
“Chief Racing Officer.”
“Where?”
“McLaren.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
Max says nothing more. He doesn’t need to. He knows GP wouldn’t tell him about this if he wasn’t seriously considering it. If GP would come talk to him every time he got an offer from another team, he would be spending every free minute with Max, not that he would complain about that. Him saying it to Max, that means something. It’s not often that he admits it, but he is scared for what’s next. But he has to know.
“When will you leave?”
He feels the hands leave his hair, instead moving to his face to gently guide it up.
Max is, once again, fighting tears and closes his eyes to avoid having to look at his race engineer. Maybe not for long anymore, he thinks.
“Max, please look at me.”
Tears roll down his cheeks and he feels GP carefully wiping them away. Reluctantly, he opens his eyes. He can see tears glistening in GP’s eyes as well. Maybe he’s not the only one that will miss their partnership.
“I won’t leave you, not yet anyway. I got the offer just this morning. I haven’t said anything yet. If you say no, I’ll say no. Simple as that. I follow your lead. Always have, always will. You hear me?”
That tugs at Max’s heartstrings. He smiles at GP and nods. “I hear you.”
“Good.”
GP lets go of Max’s face again, but instead of letting it drop back down, he holds it up by his own strength to continue looking at the man in front of him. “But I also think you should do it.”
“What?”
Max laughs a little at GP’s confused face. It seems as if he doesn’t understand why his own driver would tell him to leave him behind. To be fair, if Max were him, he probably wouldn’t understand it either. But he needs to tell him. He needs to let him know that if it’s a good offer, a good opportunity, that he should do it. Because GP deserves it. And Max knows that, without giving him the blessing to do it, he would never try it out. So, that’s what he has to do, allow GP to leave. Even if it breaks his own heart.
“You should take the offer. But only, if it’s good money, of course. Is it good money?”
“It is, yes, but Max-”
“No ’but Max’. I’m serious. I don’t see a reason why you shouldn’t take it. I know I say a lot that I do not like McLaren, but even I have to admit they are a good team, if they want to be. And Chief Racing Officer is a good position. It would allow you so many more chances to make yourself known for even higher positions. You deserve it.”
“I will not just leave you behind. I told you I’m not going anywhere without you. I made a promise to you.”
“But GP, you wouldn’t be leaving me behind.”
No answer follows that sentence. Max tilts his head a bit, confused why GP isn’t replying. Suddenly the man in front of him starts laughing. Now Max is even more confused. Why is he laughing out of nowhere? He hadn’t said anything funny. The opposite actually. Admitting that if GP leaves, that he would retire is not easy. It’s not something he ever thought would happen. So he really doesn’t get why GP is laughing at him right now. “Why are you laughing?”
GP composes himself rather quickly, as he puts his right hand on Max’s hair pets him slowly. “I’m sorry, bud. I swear I’m not laughing at you. I just thought about you in McLaren. I really can’t see you there.”
Max frowns. That’s not at all what he meant. A lot would have to happen before he willingly goes over to McLaren. And what has to happen, will never happen, so he will never move over to that team.
“I’m absolutely not going to McLaren. I know I said they’re a good team but no thank you, Their strategies would end me. I mean, it can’t get any worse than, of course, Red Bull right now, but just imagine they would try to enforce Papaya rules on me. No way.”
If that were to happen, Max would simply tell them all to fuck off and then drive into the other car, just to be petty. Neither McLaren nor him would probably be too thrilled with that scenario. It’s best to be left to imagination.
“Yeah, you’re right. Makes sense. But what did you mean then?”
But isn’t it obvious? Red Bull is not good, without GP there is nothing holding him there anymore. He would never do McLaren. There is no way Ferrari will sign him, not with Lewis, and especially not with Charles, as their drivers. Besides, he could never do that to his fiancé. Mercedes is also difficult. Toto’s been wanting to sign him ever since he started in Formula, but both George and Kimi fought hard for their seats and he wouldn’t be the one to take them away from them. And for him, every other team falls short of his expectations if he ever wants to win again. The only logical move is to leave it behind.
“I’ll retire, of course.”
GP stops all movement. Max, although if anyone were to ask him about this he would deny it, whines a little at the loss of comfort. “Why do you suddenly sound so sure about this?”
“Because you’re leaving.”
That’s all he says. It’s the most obvious answer. Why stay when there is nothing left to stay for?
“I’m not sure I understand what you mean, Max. You’re going to have to explain this one to me.”
“It’s very simple, actually. You leave Red Bull, there is nothing left for me. Ever since I started in this team, you have been here. Over the years so many people left the team for bigger opportunities. But you have always ignored them and stayed by my side. That always made me feel so loved, and it still does. But now I’ve been unhappy with this team for months, you, of course, know this, and there was always a little voice in my head nagging me to sign somewhere else. But I never did because Red Bull was always mine, and you were there. I don’t want to leave you. Though, you go to McLaren, I’m not coming with you. They’re not my team and they never will be. Also, Lando and Oscar have struggled enough in their relationship last year, with the championship battle. They barely made it out. If there is one couple on the grid who deserves to just be together right now, it’s them. The possibility of signing me exists for McLaren, they’re dropping one of them. I don’t know if they would survive that. It would be my fault if they didn’t, and I don’t want that on my conscience. And I’m not even going to consider the other teams, I don’t have to explain to you why. So, I will retire. This way we can hold our promise to each other. Neither of us works with someone else plus we leave Red Bull together, just in different directions.”
“Max, you can’t. You can’t just drop everything you worked for because I might be leaving. Which, might I remind you, I’m not. I haven’t said yes to anything yet. No decision has been made yet.”
“Okay, why can I not do that?”
“Because it’s like you said, Red Bull has always been yours. You grew up in this team. They’re your family.”
“Red Bull hasn’t been my family in a long time, not anymore. But you are.”
Tears well up in GP’s eyes. And Max freezes. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that. Maybe it was too much. Fuck, stupid Max. Always saying the wrong things. His father is right. Maybe he should’ve just listened to him. He’s so stupid. He really can’t do anything-
“Sweetheart, breathe with me. Match my breathing.” Max didn’t even realise how worked up he’s gotten over this until GP’s voice brings him out of his thoughts. But GP always knows, always makes sure he’s okay. “In for four, hold for seven, out for eight. You know the drill. Come on, you’re okay.”
He tries his best to follow GP’s breathing. It takes him several minutes to catch up enough to breathe normally again. And another few minutes to be able to speak properly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“It’s okay. You didn’t say anything bad. Everything’s okay. You’re my family too. Don’t ever forget that please.”
Well, now Max feels like crying again. It’s one thing to feel that way, and one thing to just assume but it’s always nice to hear it said out loud. They’re family. GP and Max, so different from each other but also so similar. Both already have families. GP has his wife, his kid, and his dog called Max. Max has Charles, all their pets, and their soon-to-be daughter. But they also have each other. And that means the world.
GP guides his head back down to his chest. Max’s ear presses exactly against the spot where GP’s heart lies. If he stays very still and quiet, he can hear and feel it beating, comforting and steady below him. Max thinks he could easily fall asleep right here right now.
A big yawn crawls up this throat and out his mouth, and Max scratches the previous thought. He doesn’t think he could easily fall asleep, he is sure he will fall asleep. Maybe he should get up, go home and sleep but it’s just so comfortable right now that it makes him never want to move again. GP chuckles above him, the vibration going through his body, making Max giggle slightly at the feeling. Hands come back to gently scratch at his scalp.
“Perhaps you need a little bit of sleep.”
Realistically, Max knows this. How could he not? But it’s his natural reaction to disagree with the most obvious things. Therefore it’s necessary for him to attempt to disagree, even if he fails spectacularly, as another yawn cuts him off. “I am not tired. We have to-”
“Sure you aren’t. Totally believable with how you’re yawning.”
Max tries his best to glare at GP, but the man only coos at him. In response, he lifts his hand and flips him off.
“I’m sorry, darling. You just look very adorable right now. Glaring at me is not going to work if you look like a little kitten who hasn’t slept in three days.”
At this point, Max just gives up. He’s tired and just wants to sleep. GP knows this, because he knows Max. “It’s okay, bud. We’ll talk more about this later. Rest now. I’ll be here.”
“Nothing left to talk about. You go to McLaren, I’m done with Formula 1. It’d be nice to spend more time at the Nürburgring anyway.”
“You can spend time there while driving here. We’re not deciding anything yet. We’ve got time. We’ll figure it out. We always do, don’t we?”
Max just hums. He makes himself more comfortable on GP’s chest and closes his eyes. GP leans forwards and presses a kiss to his head.
They both let the silence wash over them, and themselves be overtaken by long-needed sleep.
And if they were still lying there hours later when they were trying to be found for a meeting, then that’s only their business.
(And Laurents. The man had found them pretty quickly, took a picture of them sleeping, and he was ready to wake them up. That is, until he noticed how exhausted they both looked and how peaceful they seemed as they slept. So, he decides to just let them be and tells the others from the team that they must have gone home already.)