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The spark isn’t there anymore.
It’s the scariest realization Max has had in a long time, one that’s worse than when he discovered he was an omega. That itself is strange because Max thought he had grown up over the past few years, that he was more aware of himself and his own feelings and thus knew how to handle them.
Reality was much harder. In fact, reality was harsh in the way that whenever you thought you knew someone or yourself, something happens that shows you that you did, in fact, not know.
And in this care, it was himself. He really didn’t know himself. Didn’t notice how the lines had been blurring race after race, how his heart beat at the wrong times and the moments it should, it didn’t.
Sprint races were annoying, the worst and honestly an insult to the way this sport has always been. That he knew, Max was sure of his opinion on that.
What he wasn’t sure of, apparently, was how he felt about his lover - possible future mate? - boyfriend without the boyfriend title. The Brazilian grand prix had been a mess before it even started, with flights stuck here and there and Valtteri being late and the whole fucking cheating with the rules by Mercedes problem.
It was all over the place and so were Max’s feelings. He has grown over time as a person, as a racer and even as an omega but he expected himself to still be somewhat affected during the sprint qualifying, or at least after.
Instead, it was all the opposite.
Where all the scents had infiltrated Max’s senses before, putting him on edge not being able to drone them out completely, they didn’t affect him now. Not at all. It was scary because it should - even when he was able to block it all out during a race he was still aware that they were there. Their designations, the way nature built them with emotion affected scents and hormones all over the place was a mess, but a constant mess.
Now Max felt like he was isolated, stuck in an air-filled bubble and everything happened around it but nothing was able to break through that bubble.
All because of that one realization.
Max wasn’t able to be genuinely happy for Lewis anymore.
He could deal with his own mistakes, his own faults. The start was shit - Max could blame that one on himself. Checo’s wasn’t much better, but they would be able to work on that as a team.
But the thing that Mercedes pulled with the rear wing had him already feeling strange but it was worse when Lewis had to deal with the backlash about it. It has had to be Mercedes' choice and mistake - Max could not believe that Lewis would ever pull such a stunt. Lewis told him too, reassured him that this competition would be between the two of them. Fair.
And Lewis made up for it, properly dealt with all backlash and just pulled his head down and worked his way through the field. He did it amazingly, all clean and powerful overtakes. Something to be proud of.
But Max wasn’t feeling proud about it and it made him nauseous.
Nauseous because in the past if such a thing happened, he would’ve taken a deep breath. He would’ve still been disappointed as a driver, very much so, or frustrated or whatever. But he would’ve been able to find that switch and see them as people again, view Lewis as an alpha he’s dating rather than his competitor for the world driver championship. It has always been possible because he wanted to be able to do that, to be able to be there for his alpha as an omega and make new, happier memories together that way.
But that want has disappeared, the spark that happens when he hits the switch is no more because that switch is gone.
During the past few weeks, with every race, the difference between the alpha that is his competitor and the one that is his lover has become harder to see. Max was starting to feel the tiniest resentment towards his lover when his rival did too good, yet was attracted to his rival the way he would with his lover.
Things that were doable for him, not that noticeable when the good and the bad thoughts even out. But somehow that negative took the upper hand, and like oil in the oceans, it’s affecting everything.
Max is stressing, knows he’s stressing because he doesn’t know what to do.
The omega in him wants to seek out his alpha, get reassured that his thoughts are wrong and that they are very much happy. Or if Lewis wasn’t available, seek out the pack to cuddle and nest and calm the fuck down because he might be on the brink of a panic attack.
That’s his first nature though.
His personality is different.
So Max takes a deep breath, counts to three, releases it and repeats.
Then he goes to his driver’s room.
Lewis seeks him out first and it’s a relief. Not because Max wanted to see him that bad but because he knows that if Lewis wouldn’t have come, he wouldn’t have searched him out either and the longer he broods on this the worse it becomes.
“Hey,” Lewis greets and with him comes the scent Max is so familiar with. One that could’ve been home. Would’ve been, had he been better at keeping their worlds separate. Should’ve been, if he wanted to be happy. If he wanted to make Lewis happy.
“Hi,” Max says but he knows his voice is lacking power and emotion. He does lean up though, lets himself snuggly into Lewis’ neck. The contact is warm and calming but it doesn’t feel like something he deserves anymore. Not when he knows that he’s going to hurt Lewis.
“Well done,” he adds. Because Lewis did amazing. Went from last to fifth - Lewis managed to do what would’ve been impossible for most in a whole race, let alone in a 24 laps long sprint race. Even the Dutch commentators said it shouldn’t be possible to get past that very tight midfield. Yet Lewis did it like it was nothing, and for the alpha it probably was nothing.
Because Lewis is good like that. Lewis is talented, dedicated and doing it right. He has an eye for humanity, for the things that need work and knows when people need to be called out. Max should be praising him more, be more proud of everything that Lewis is and has been doing.
Lewis must notice his lack of enthusiasm but seems to have mistaken the reason for it. “Sorry about your pole,” Lewis apologizes, which leaves Max shaking his head.
“Never apologize for things on track you have no influence on,” Max corrects the alpha, “I made a mistake and that’s something I will have to deal with tomorrow, but that will be okay.”
His distress must be strong enough to take over his whole scent, because Lewis is still on edge. “Do you need more time to calm down from the race? We can meet up later if you want, that way we can leave this behind, enjoy our night and see how tomorrow goes?”
Max tears up.
He actually tears up and he can’t stop it.
It hurts so much to hear Lewis being so considerate, so nice to him, possibly so in love with him when Max can’t do the same anymore. It hurts, the fact that he will have to disappoint Lewis so much hurts and it’s scary but he has to. The longer he drags this out the worse it will be.
Lewis is doing everything to make sure that their life on and off the track will be kept separate.
Max can’t anymore. It’s already too late. That oil that’s their rivalry has tainted their ocean of love, and nothing can get rid of that oil.
“Please don’t cry,” Lewis whispers and Max does nothing to avoid his touch when Lewis gets close enough to wipe away Max’s tears. He doesn’t cry, never done and never will but lone tears trail down his cheek and it feels so final.
“Do you want me to go?” Lewis asks but Max notices how Lewis tries to mix his own concerned but calming scent with that of Max, which screams distress.
He shakes his head though. He has to do it, has to rip that bandaid off.
“It’s too late,” Max whispers, “I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t keep it separate.”
Max doesn’t have to say more. He looks into Lewis' eyes, his own vision blurred by the result of his emotions but the picture is clear. Lewis’ face is a mixture of shock, heartbreak and even the slightest bit of disgust.
Lewis has the right to feel all of that, but it still hurts.
Within their silence both know that now that Max has crossed this point, it’s impossible to go back. That oil is there and it will stay there.
Their scent that once upon a time mixed together like the fresh scent of spring blooms now seems to fight each other, mixing until it’s a horrible mess of everything that Max hopes to never smell again.
Max watches as Lewis slowly backs out, the alpha too crying. Max knows that Lewis is the more emotional one between them, that Lewis will hurt more than Max can even imagine.
Neither of them tries to change it.
As much as they hate it, as much as Max wants to throw up and hide and never come out to see the sunlight again after this decision, he just watches as Lewis opens the door and gets out.
There is oil on his hands - oil of which he has no idea how he even got in contact with it, but it seems like that’s how it all starts.