Evita took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves, before knocking on the door to Franco's hotel room. It was a few hours after qualifying, and Evita had finally arrived at Franco's room to talk to him about whatever they were. After a moment, he opened the door. He was dressed in a t-shirt and sweatpants, his curly hair damp from a shower.

"Hey, Evita," he said nervously.

"We need to talk," was all Evita said.

"I know, that's why I told you to come over," said Franco. That made Evita feel like an idiot. Obviously he knew they needed to talk, that was the whole point of him inviting her over. "Do you want to come in?"

He stepped aside, pulling the door open the rest of the way to allow Evita to enter the room. He took a seat on a sofa and watched as Evita paced back and forth, trying to figure out what to say. Every single feeling she'd experienced all day was churning in her stomach, which only increased Evita's nervousness. She couldn't decide what she was feeling most: annoyance, confusion, dread, love. It all ended up congealing into what Evita could only describe as anger. Franco watched her with a silent calmness that only aggravated her more.

"Why do you have to make everything so confusing?" asked Evita, turning to face him. "I tried to keep my distance from you and everything was just fine. Until you decided to ruin everything by kissing me at the museum."

Franco opened his mouth, but Evita cut him off. "Don't. You don't get to speak right now. Do you have any idea what that did to me? I was trying to protect myself. I was trying to stay away because the last thing I need is to fall for you again and let you hurt me."

Evita exhaled shakily, feeling the sting of tears forming in her eyes. She hated it, hated the way he made her feel. "I've been so scared, Franco. Scared of feeling anything for you. Scared that if I let myself believe in this, it'll end like it did before. I can't put my heart through that again," Evita continued.

Franco's gaze softened. He stood and took a step closer to her, extending one hand to take hers. Evita took a step back, shaking her head. "You make it so hard to keep my guard up," she said. "I try to stay angry, to remind myself why I shouldn't trust you, but then you go and look at me like this," she gestured to him. "And it's like I'm the only thing that matters. And I hate you for it. I hate that I can't hate you."

Evita felt tears in her eyes, threatening to fall down her face. She took a deep breath and carried on. "I never wanted to feel this way about you again. I didn't want to let you back in because I'm terrified you'll leave me again. And then I finally let you in and you ignore me for an entire week. I don't know what your intentions are, but I need to know because I'm starting to think I've made the wrong decision. I'm not built for this back-and-forth nonsense."

She looked up at him, her defenses crumbling completely. "I think I'm falling in love with you again, Franco. And that terrifies me more than anything."

Franco stood just a few feet away from her, his brows knit with concern for the Argentine woman. He didn't say anything for a moment, instead watching Evita closely as she fidgeted nervously.

"You think I don't care?" he asked finally, his voice quiet but steady. "You think the museum meant nothing to me? Evita, I'm trying my best to hold back because I know how much I fucked up before. I'm scared too. I don't know if I'm good enough for you, and I'm worried I'll just hurt you again."

He took a cautious step closer to Evita, his eyes never leaving hers. "But I can't help it, Ev. I can't seem to stay away from you. Every time I try to let you go, I end up right back here and wanting you more than ever."

Franco broke the eye contact between them to look down at Evita's hands. She had been picking at her fingernails again. His gaze softened as he reached out almost hestiatnly, gently taking her hand in his. He didn't acknowledge her bad habit, simply making sure she wouldn't hurt herself further. Evita let him hold her hand, the contact anchoring her.

"I'm not perfect, Evita. I'm far from it." Evita felt a tiny smile form on her lips as a small giggle escaped her. Franco smiled too. "Oh stop that, I know I've been in the wrong since we started working together. But that's not the point right now. The point is, the kiss at the museum, that was real. And now I'm standing here, terrified of losing you again, because I know I can't keep pretending I'm fine without you. I know I've been terrible to you this week, but I realize I made a mistake. I've made so many mistakes with you and I don't want to do that again."

Franco's voice softened so it was almost a whisper, vulnerability reflected in his eyes. "I want this to be different this time. I'm learning from my mistakes, even if the one all those years ago was a complete misunderstanding. I need you to know that I'm not going anywhere this time, even if it means breaking down every wall you've built around yourself."

Franco took another step closer, their bodies almost touching. His thumb traced small circles on the back of her hand, his touch gentle. "Evita," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "I'm not asking you to forgive me. I'm just asking you to let me in a little."

Evita looked up at him, her breath catching in her throat. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she hated how much he affected her.

"Fuck you, Franco," she muttered, voice shaking. "Fuck you for making me feel like this."

Before she could second-guess herself, she grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him closer to her. Franco's eyes momentarily widened, before he closed the distance between them, his lips crashing onto hers.

The kiss was fierce and desperate like all the emotions they'd both been holding back had finally found their release. Evita put her frustration, fear, and anger into the kiss, and Franco met her with equal intensity. His hand came up to cup her face, his fingers tangling in her hair as he held her closer to him, as if unwilling to let her go.

It wasn't gentle or soft. It was messy and real, a clashing combination of everything they'd been trying to suppress. The world around them seemed to fade, leaving only Evita and Franco, locked in this one moment. Nothing else mattered.

When they finally pulled back, both were breathless, their foreheads resting agains teach other. Evita's fingers still gripped his shirt, holding onto it like a lifeline. She pulled away just enough to look him in the eyes, seraching his gaze as if looking for reassurance that this wasn't a mistake.

Franco's thumb brushed against her cheek. "We're going to figure this out together, Evita. We'll take things slow. One step at a time." He bent his head down slightly to press a lingering kiss to her forehead.

Evita let out a shaky breath, nodding slightly. She finally let go of his shirt and wrapped her arms around his middle, tucking her head under his chin. Franco pulled her closer to him, rubbing her back gently. She let him hold her, the proximity reassuring her that she made the right choice.

"I love you," whispered Franco.

"I love you, too," murmured Evita.

At that moment, she knew they both meant it.

...

an: THEY FINALLY ADMITTED IT. it only took 33k words of this fic but that's okay. sorry for the time skips but i haven't been sure what to write, but trust me when i say the brazil race weekend is going to be packed with all sorts of stuff that i'm very excited to write :) also, i have beef with alpine right now, even though i do love franco, they did jack and paul SO dirty and i hate that stupid team. anyway, i hope you have a lovely day! -willow <3