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Max wasn’t sure but time must have stopped. It was only just creeping towards midnight, with three hours left of his shift but he was sure he’d been at work forever. The air was humid and insufferable as always, his white t shirt clinging to his back with perspiration. He’d learnt very quickly to always stick to black or white.
He didn’t hate working in the bar, but he couldn’t say he loved it. There was always something a little soul destroying watching everyone, people his age, fellow students falling around drunk on a week night, no cares in the world. Where as he was shackled to the packed rota and endless drinks that needed pouring. Straining to hear slurred orders over the repetitive thump of the music and trying to avert his eyes when the dance floor was splashed with vomit. Idly hoping if he didn’t notice, he wouldn’t be tasked to clean up the mess.
It was his second year of university, one more year before his engineering degree was complete. He’d moved to Monaco to study, but he knew he’d never leave. He loved living near to the water, the mixture of shops and bars contradicted by the sheer beauty contained in the masses of countryside surrounding.
It was a Wednesday and much to Max’s surprise it was quiet. With only a few groups of people instead of being packed to the rafters like usual. Taking a rare moment to himself to take a drink from his water bottle, his manager bursts round the corner. Kat was only twenty four, firm but fair but Max knew she’d always have his back. If it wasn’t for her, Max was certain he wouldn’t still be working there.
But his confusion is soon answered, Kat informs him that the local club was doing a student night, and in turn zapping all of their trade, mixed with a litany of swear words and sighs. He watches as she swipes a bottle of beer from the fridge and storms towards her office, muttering under her breath as she went. They wouldn’t be seeing her again tonight.
His heart rate spikes as he practically jumps out of his skin at the figure in front of him, lazily propping themselves up on the bar. As his eyes come into focus on the man in front of him, he’s frozen to the spot.
Max was familiar with most of the patrons, usually regulars or people he’d seen around campus, but not this man.
He must have been around his own age, his hair slightly longer than Max’s, softer and fluffier against this forehead. He’d never seen eyes so piercing, the deep emerald green staring right into Max’s soul. His skin exuding an olive glow, the three top buttons of his shirt unbuttoned leaving his chest exposed. Each of his slender fingers clad with chunky silver rings, one with a large deep red stone. Max was certain he’d never seen anyone quite like him, he was gorgeous.
Forcing himself into motion, he begins to pour the dark haired mans drink, a double vodka redbull, and with Kat not watching, it was basically a triple. He could feel a flush growing in his cheeks as he placed the cool glass on the counter, he needed to get a grip. His throaty, deep local accent circling Max’s mind. He must have been from around here, maybe he wasn’t a student like the rest of them, he keeps his eyes trained on the man as he disappears out of Max’s view.
A slight ache burgeoning in his chest now he was out of sight, Max had always been guilty of this. His friends always mocked him, saying that Max was just like a Disney princess, always falling victim to love at first sight. Naturally he’d always shrugged them off, telling them to shut up, but it was true.
He’d spent two minutes in the company of this man, and now he couldn’t help but frantically scan the room looking for him. Even coming away from the bar to collect glasses, hoping to catch one more glimpse of the dark haired man, but it was all to no avail. It felt different this time.
The rest of his shift had flown by, in true cruel fashion after the seconds feeling like hours previously, his hopes of seeing him are how completely dashed. As Max turns the lights on in the club, all of the patrons now gone, he begins his usual routine, sweeping, mopping, wiping. Maybe he was a Disney princess after all as most of his evenings resembled Cinderellas.
As the clock ticked over to three am, Max finally settles his head back onto the pillow. His alarm set to blare in four hours ready for his morning lecture. Usually he would be dead on his feet, his eyes slowly beginning to close on the night bus home, but tonight he was wired.
Every time his eyes fluttered closed, all he could see were those green eyes. The innumerable questions circling his mind, who was he? Did he live in Monaco? Would Max ever see him again?
The second time Max saw him, he couldn't believe it.
His morning lecture had dragged, and now after last nights antics, he was exhausted. Popping into the supermarket on his way home, desperate for something to wake him up, he acquires an ice cold can of redbull. He’s so exhausted he’s in a trance, his brain filled with cotton wool. Until something, well someone brings Max into clarity.
The same mop of dark hair from last night, now wearing a grey oversized sweatshirt and looking somehow even more attractive than last night, even under the harsh strip lighting. He doesn’t see Max, his gaze trained on the selection of yoghurt in front of him, until a striking woman appears next to him. “Come on Charles, hurry up” she says before dragging him down the aisle in the opposite direction.
Charles.
Going through the self service, Max makes his way out into the street. Almost silently whispering to himself, his name on his lips. It was a compulsion, he needed to hear how it sounded in his own dutch lilt.
A beautiful name for the most beautiful man. He felt like a psychopath, like he was following the man around the city desperate for a glimpse. He wants to shake himself, this wasn’t him, he wasn’t that guy. Charles clearly had a girlfriend, he wasn’t interested in awkward, gangly Max anyway. People like him never were. He needed to dust himself off and forget about him.
The Friday night shift resembled hell. Max didn’t usually work Fridays, he was already cuddled up on the sofa ready to resume his binge of Succession with a slab of chocolate. But as Kat’s name flashed up on his phone screen, he knew his usual lack of back bone would come back to bite him, and now he was at work. It had been three weeks since he’d seen Charles in the supermarket, and Max had tried everything in his power to get him out of his mind.
He’d been on nights out with friends, always ending up in the same gay bar he’d always inhabit. Re downloading grindr and talking to a few guys, even braving a date. Tom, a fellow student from America, sandy blonde hair and deep chocolate eyes finding himself in Monaco while travelling. But as he found himself in his single bed all alone at the end of the night, nothing, no one compared to the what ifs.
The zap in trade on Wednesday had definitely been made up for this evening, in the grand scheme of nights out it was still early, only pushing nine, but the place was rammed.
He’d lost count at the amount of drinks he’d poured, broken glass he’d swept up and screaming, crying girls he’d seen. At close to midnight, someone had finally come to take him off for his break, his well overdue break.
He was boiling hot, his skin slick with sweat as he exits out into the smoking area. The crisp cool air offering a reprieve from the sweltering temperature. Leaning against the wall in the corner, he idly scrolls on his phone, the screeching and wailing laughter becoming nothing more than white noise, just in the background.
Tipping his head up, he looks up to the sky. A litany of stars twinkling and glistening above him, the crisp and cool air burning its way down his throat. The reminder he needed, that this wasn’t forever. That another life time would await him, when he could direct his attention to a fulfilling career, to work in the field he’d loved since being a little boy. His father was in racing, he’d spent this whole childhood trailing behind him. Spending countless hours watching the meticulous and fascinating craft which went into the manufacturing and maintaining. He was hooked.
He feels a figure leaning against the wall next to him, even on his break he couldn’t be left alone, rolling his eyes, a sigh escaping his lips. Averting his gaze, he goes to push himself off the wall until he realises. It was Charles. No girl hanging off his arm this time, he was alone.
The dark haired man leaning against the wall, a tight black t shirt hugging his chest. He brings a cigarette to his mouth and slowly inhales, the sour staleness of smoke filling the air. He was standing so close to Max that he could hear the crackle of the embers with every drag. He could smell the spicy warmth of his aftershave, it must have been the heat Max ponders to himself as he begins to feel faint.
He knew he needed to say something, as a member of staff he knew he needed to be polite, he needed to make himself look a little less strange for just standing, completely sober in the smoking area of a bar.
“Hi” Max says, barely above a whisper, craning his neck slightly to meet the emerald orbs. Removing the cigarette from his plump lips, Charles smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. His gaze was captivating, Max was sure he was looking into his soul. Max felt like he was the only person in the room, like he had Charles full attention on him.
Despite having never met properly before, he felt familiar. Like they’d know each other their whole lives.
He couldn’t take it, it was embarrassing. The man looked like a model and there was Max soaked in beer and covered in sweat, he was sure his adoration for the stranger was written all over his face.
He hadn’t been able to get Charles out of his mind for the last few weeks, but now standing infront of him he wanted the concrete to swallow him up.
Before the dark haired man could open his mouth, Max squeaked “I, I need to get back” before spinning on his heel and delving back into the dark building. Not daring a glimpse over his shoulder back at him.
The rest of his shift escaped in the blink of an eye, he’d refused to perform his usual cinderella duties this evening, escaping before the bar had closed. He hadn’t seen Charles since, the bittersweet feeling from this low in his stomach.
The gym was quiet, it always was at this time of the morning. Early on a Saturday morning, Max had some kind of routine. A slow walk to the gym as the sun began to rise before conducting his usual work out. From the fitness plan his friend Brad
(who was much better than Max with all of this stuff) had devised for him.
But this morning he just wanted to run, he was already running away from his problems so what else would a few more miles do. Popping in his headphones he jumps on the treadmill and runs for as long as his legs will carry him, before the aching in his calves becomes unbearable.
10 kilometres racked up before the machine slows to a stop. Stepping off and taking a long gulp from his water bottle, Max glances into the expansive mirror on the wall before he thinks he might drop dead.
The only other person in the room, on the far side with their headphones in, his back to Max, was Charles. A pair of bright red, criminally short exercise shorts high on his hips.
He couldn’t fucking believe this.
Three weeks ago he’d never seen this man before in his life, and now he was behind Max at every turn. He’d half expected to tear open the shower curtain at home to see Charles hiding behind, he was plaguing him.
But Max being stupid, panicking Max had failed to realise the obvious. That despite having his back to him, Charles was looking right at Max in the mirror, a slow smile on his lips as he watched him. As he watched Max mindlessly staring at his own back.
He watched in horror as Charles turned off the exercise bike and swung his legs to the side, but Max was good at running. Scrambling to grab his things, he strides toward the double doors before Charles could reach him, just the dark haired mans calls following him down the hallway “hey” “hey, please wait”.
Max was a coward. He was scared. He’d had every opportunity to speak to the dark haired man, but instead he’d simply ran away and hid.
He didn’t want his heart broken, he’d fallen victim time and time again to falling for straight guys who would always be unattainable.
But in the middle of the night, he couldn’t help himself to wonder, to dream.
He’d awoken from a particularly barbaric dream only this morning, the same Saturday morning that couldn’t have been any more different.
He was laying in bed, but it wasn’t his own.
Cocooned in plush white sheets, a slither of sunlight radiating through the curtains. A sleeping figure next to him, the familiar dark mop of hair resting on the pillow. The room was large and bright, the walls awash with white. The faint lapping of the waves in the distant heard, it was reminiscent of a hotel. But it wasn’t.
There were small touches littered around the room, framed photos and a candle on the dresser at the end of the bed, a stack of bracelets and a watch on his bedside table. Reaching out to move the covers down, something glimmering in the sunlight catches his attention.
A sliver band, on his left hand. A wedding band.
Holding his hand in front of his face, he couldn’t help but admire the thin band of metal. He couldn’t feel it on his skin, Max had borrowed one of Brad’s signet rings before but could feel the aggravating weight on his finger all night. This was different, like it was meant to be, it was made to reside on Max’s finger.
A door slamming in the corridor had torn Max from his blissful fantasy, leaving him lay awake in his dark and dingy dorm room alone. He felt bereft, the dream life was all he wanted and just as he believed it was in his own reach it had been cruelly ripped away from him. He wasn’t proud of it, but he could feel tears beginning to well on his waterline.
The true, real problem was, Max had never experienced proper love. Growing up with his father, he’d never been cared for in the traditional sense, yes all of his basic needs were always met but he’d never been nurtured. His father wasn’t one for tucking him into bed at night and reading him a story, or kissing it better when he’d fallen off his bike and cut his knee. Max had always been expected to be a grown man, albeit a little grown man.
But he’d always had so much love to give, his heart bursting with affection with nowhere to go. It was all trapped inside of him. So with every joke that Max fell in love with everyone he’d passed in the street, it felt like a red hot poker had been jabbed directly into his chest and twisted. With every longing dream of a healthy and happy relationship left Max carrying the led weight of grief deep in his stomach all day. Grief for the life that he didn’t have.
And the magnetic draw to Charles was indescribable. He’d never felt like this before, even with his previous boyfriend at the start of his degree it had never felt like this. He’d never believed in soulmates, thinking it was all made up by people who were in love. But he’d put everything on the line for this, he was certain Charles was his soulmate. It was pre determined.
The Sunday afternoon shift is Max’s favourite. He’d always pondered why the bar opened at lunchtime on a Sunday, but he never wanted to question Kat too much on it incase she’d changed her mind and moved him to another dreaded evening.
It was always the same faces sitting quietly nursing the same drinks, giving Max much needed time to catch up on any assignments, his laptop propped behind the bar. It also meant that the air wasn’t as thick and heavy as usual meaning Max could wear his favourite deep navy t shirt. Which was now becoming slightly tighter around his arms, thanks to Brad’s training program.
He was mindlessly tapping away on his laptop when he notices a piece of paper on the counter. He was sure it hadn’t fallen out of one of his notebooks as he swipes it towards him.
Unfolding it, he’s shocked at the expanse of well formed, cursive handwriting. But his shock can only continue as he starts to read.
Hi,
My name is Charles.
As you’re probably aware we’ve been seeing each other everywhere. But since you won’t speak to me I wanted to write you a letter.
I’d really like to get to know you and I don’t know how many more times I can bare bumping into you and not knowing your name.
I even asked your boss but she wouldn’t tell me, I don’t know how much longer I can hang around the bar waiting for you without looking weird!
But I can’t get you out of my head
Please text me
Charles x
With his number detailed at the bottom.
Yep that’s it, Max was dead. He must have read the letter a dozen times before finally placing it down. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing, his hands were shaking violently. He felt the same. He felt the fucking same and Max couldn’t stop hiding.
He’d been so engrossed in the letter he hasn’t noticed Charles sliding onto the barstool to his right.
And for the first time with confidence, Max takes a deep breath and speaks “Hi, what can I get you? I hear you’re a regular now, by the way my name is Max”
The fond beaming smile which Charles radiates in his direction leaves him unsure if he wants to burst into tears or kiss him.
“Max” Charles replies, trying his name out for size. “Can I have an orange juice please, I’d like to remember this” he asks, his eyes averting to the top of Max’s arms before realising he’d been caught. A tinge of red high on his cheeks.
He’d never seen him this close, he’d never seen his long dark eyelashes or the faint five a clock shadow on his jawline. He was beautiful, more beautiful than he’d ever remembered.
“What time do you finish? Can we go for something to eat?” Charles asks, his accent thick and rich. He actually wanted to go out with Max, be seen out in public with Max.
When he hesitates, too shocked to respond Charles reaches across the bar and gently, lightly squeezes his hand, a reassuring gesture. That he didn’t need to be scared anymore, that it was ok.
He was definitely dead, he’d gone to
heaven.
But maybe this time, his love had somewhere to go. No more running.