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It’s weird, but Charles can’t remember the last time he felt like he deserved happiness. It’s not like he’s always self-loathing, he has his good moments too. He just can’t recall the last time he sat alone after a good moment and thought to himself, I deserved it. The last time he let someone treat him right, without a voice in the back of his mind crawling in the front to make him self-conscious. It’s not about Max, but then again, everything is about Max lately. He always feels too much around him, but at the same time, never enough. It’s not a new feeling either, this one. He can’t help but think he asks for too much, wants too much. Even when he doesn’t ask for anything, even when it all comes from Max's kind heart. But maybe Charles pressured him in a way? Maybe, he looked too sad, and Max sighed in his head and cursed, thinking to himself how tiring it is to play the savior, but he still did it, because poor Charles. Maybe it just comes from a place of self-pity. And Charles still wants more. How selfish is it? Who he is to ask for more, always more, more, more. And isn’t it abusing Max's kindness? He knows he will keep on giving him if he keeps on asking. He’s just too nice like that.
Charles just wishes he could turn off the voices. They sometimes do, but it’s never thanks to him. He still doesn’t know the special trick. Max does. When he feels charitable, he plays a bit of magic on Charles. Does the trick when they’re alone in a dark room. It never works for too long, it’s just magic anyway, but it works enough for Charles to crave the next time it happens.
“It’s your time to play” Max's voice is soft, he sounds sleepy. Charles thinks for a moment, a voice like that could lull him to sleep easily. He keeps the thought to himself, looking at Max instead.
He doesn’t know how to play, doesn’t even know what game they are playing. Somehow, he knows he’s losing. “I don’t want to anymore” he whispers, his voice rough on the edges.
“Kay.” Max says before stretching. He yawns, and Charles regrets his last words, because he knows what’s coming now. “I should go, I think, it’s getting pretty late”
Not really, it’s only 10pm, Charles wants to protest. He doesn’t, because maybe Max just wants to leave. He won’t force him to stay. “Ok” he replies instead of anything too weak.
There’s a moment of silence during which none of them move. Their goodbyes are always strange, it makes Charles anxious, but It’s not his fault, everything finds a way to make him anxious lately.
“Are you gonna be okay?” Max asks earnestly. Charles wants to punch him, but the question is followed by the man’s hand softly petting his knee and Charles also wants to melt, pout and say, 'No, I really want you to hold me tonight’. How embarrassing and needy would that be?
“Yeah,” he answers shortly. It’s too cold, and he regrets his tone immediately, but Max is used to it, unfortunately.
He gets up. Charles watches him walk to the coat rack. He sits on the floor and starts putting on his shoes in silence. Charles knows, it’s one of those nights. He’ll probably cry once he’s alone, as soon as Max will close the door behind him. He doesn’t even know why. It feels like he’s crying for the wrong reasons, like it’s just a cover for something bigger he doesn’t want to admit, not even to himself. It’s scary. Max stands up, his shoes on. Charles lowers his head, focused on his hand playing with one of the bracelets he’s wearing. He doesn’t like it, but it’s a gift from a little girl who asked him if he could win the championship because it would make her really happy. She was not older than five years old. Why can’t Charles make her happy? Maybe, if he doesn’t look up, Max won’t leave.
"Charlie" Max calls him from the door. It's new. He doesn't know if he can call it a nickname, but he likes it anyway. It sounds intimate enough for Charles' heart to warm up.
"What?" he says, looking up, but Max isn't at the door anymore. He's right in front of him, blue eyes locked in his green ones.
"Why don't you speak?" and isn't it the one million dollar question? Charles doesn't know. He wishes he would, though. He shrugs his shoulders for a simple answer, not able to do anything else.
"I feel like you want me to go" Max speaks softly, his hands standing awkwardly next to his body, like they belong somewhere else. On Charles, maybe.
Charles keeps his gaze on his hands when he whispers, "I feel like you want to go"
"I only want to do the right thing for you" Max’s hands twitch.
"I don't think I ever want you to leave." he says without thinking, immediately regretting the words that got out. But Max doesn't mind, he never seems to mind.
"Charles, I cannot read your mind when you get in your head. You need to speak with me, alright, love?" he says gently.
Love. Charles' mind gets stuck on the last word. He nods, his eyes still locked into the warm ocean in front of him. He wants to swim in it, he's sure it would do him good. They fall into silence after that. Max is the first one to look away and Charles misses his gaze. He also misses his last word, he wants to hear it again, wishes he would be brave enough to ask. In the same way he wishes he could ask him to stay the night. Charles has a lot of wishes, he keeps them all safe together in his heart. Someone told him once if you want your wishes to become reality, you need to keep them for yourself, so he never voices them. Maybe he misinterpreted the statement.
“Charles.” Max’s voice breaks the silence again, demanding, pleading. Still so soft.
“What?” Charles replies just above a whisper, eyes never meeting Max’s, he doesn’t even know why, he just knows he can’t.
“You need to talk to me” he pleads, again.
“About what?” he asks innocently
Max sighs, unmoving. Charles doesn’t want to upset him, the thought of it immediately makes him sick. “About what’s wrong, tell me what’s wrong Charles, talk to me”
“Nothing is wrong” he replies in a small voice, it sounds wrong even to his own ears.
Max won’t buy it. He gulps, his eyes still locked on the other man’s right hand. He sees it moving, finally, and Charles follows its movement until the long fingers settle on his jaw, softly. He pushes his head up until they meet each other's eyes. Charles gulps again at the view. Max’s gentle eyes are speaking right to his soul, telling him something he can’t quite understand. Charles just wants to cry. “Charlie,” the soft voice speaks again, and this time Charles can’t hold it anymore. He feels his eyes tearing up and sees the change in Max’s eyes when it happens. His second hand reaches his cheek, and Charles gulps again, closing his eyes as he feels a tear rolling down his cheek. Max’s thumb brushes it. “You’re crying,” the Dutchman whispers obviously, Charles can’t help the light chuckle escaping his body. “You tell me nothing is wrong, but then you’re crying…” He sounds so concerned and Charles feels bad about worrying him, so he cries even more.
“I don’t know…” he whispers
“What don’t you know Charlie?”
“I don’t know what’s wrong” he says, his voice breaking with each word.
“Oh… my sweet Charlie” he brushes both of his cheeks with his fingers before one of his hands cups his head and brings it to Max’s torso. Their bodies collide softly, both of Max’s hands wrap around Charles’ head in a protective embrace.
Charles forgets how to breathe for a moment, his body too tense, before the warmth surrounds his whole body. His arms circle Max’s waist, tightening his grip as much as he can while nuzzling his head into the soft skin of his neck. Max hums, his hands petting the brown hair.
“You’re okay,” Max speaks softly in his ear. It sends chills through his whole body.
“I know,” he replies, but there’s no sound that comes out of his mouth, his lips almost touching the skin on Max’s neck.
For a moment, he forgets everything that is wrong, everything that isn’t Max’s body pressed against his, it’s all second thoughts, he will deal with it later.
“Do you want me to stay?” Max asks. Charles tightens the grip around him, it must be enough for the other man to understand because he replies softly, "Okay.". One of his hands lets go of his neck and travels to his waist, where it belongs. He holds it like it’s his, an extension of his own body. Charles shivers and wishes it could be as simple as that. Maybe it can, just for one night.
But it can’t. He feels Max move and nuzzle even more, afraid the man will let go of him, but it’s inevitable, just like Max. He puts both of his hands on his waist and takes a small step back, their bodies not touching anymore. Charles wants to whine at the loss of contact, his hands immediately fly to Max’s arms, and he can see the slight smile on the man’s lips, his blue eyes shining while looking at him. His thumbs brushes against Charles' hips, and he wishes for a small moment that he wasn’t wearing a shirt. He blushes at the thought and drops his gaze from Max’s, embarrassed.
“You don’t want to talk about it” It's not a question, more like a statement. Max knows Charles enough to realize he doesn’t want to talk, he still shakes his head, and Max nods, understanding. “Maybe tomorrow?” he asks, his thumbs still softly caressing the skin above his shirt.
“Maybe,” he replies quietly, knowing he won’t want that. Not tomorrow, but maybe the day after, or the day after...
“I wanna take care of you, Charlie. Can I?” he asks softly, and who is Charles to deny him? He wants to be taken care of so badly, he craves it, not even knowing what it means.
“Please,” he replies, almost begging.
Max smiles at him. “Okay,” he brings his hands to his face once again, and Charles automatically leans into the touch, like a kitten. He gently pushes his hair out of his face. “Let’s get you to bed” he murmurs right before his lips make contact with the skin on his forehead. Charles shudders, he wants more, more, more. And he knows Max will give him.
Max interlaces their fingers to lead Charles into his room. He never entered before, but he still acts as if he knows it by heart, like it's something they always do. It's not; it's all new.
Charles turns on the big light before he enters the room, and Max follows. They stop right in front of the bed because Charles doesn't know what they are doing. He has an idea in mind, but he doesn't want to assume. He faces Max for answers and realizes how pink the other man looks. His ears are bright red, and the flush dies under his shirt.
They look at each other for a bit too long, analyzing their next move in silence. It's raining outside, Charles can hear the tap of the drops of water on his window. Max is still holding his hand, his fingers brushing the top of it so softly until he brings it to his lips. He locks his gaze with Charles’s for a second before focusing solely on the hand he's holding. He kisses it multiple times, from his fingers to his wrist. Charles blushes. He wonders if the other man will keep the tray of kissing going, but he doesn't. He still keeps the hand so close to his mouth when he looks up at Charles again. He smiles at him. "Is this okay?" he asks earnestly, a hint of shyness in his words.
Charles nods quickly, not trusting his mouth to form coherent words right now.
"You're so soft." Max speaks up, Charles melts.
"That's you…" he says just above a whisper, his voice barely getting heard.
Max smiles fondly, "You deserve softness." He kisses the back of his hand again, "You deserve so much"
"I do?"
"Of course." He keeps on looking at him, and Charles can feel himself blushing even more under his gaze.
"Are you- are you going to kiss me?" he asks without thinking, because it feels like this is where they are headed. He regrets the words immediately, afraid he broke something too delicate to be spoken of.
Max kisses his hand again, "I am," he says like it's obvious.
But it's not what Charles means. He swallows, looking away. "I meant-" he starts again, but stops himself, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden. "Never mind"
"I'll take care of you" Max offers, "Any way you want. Any way you will let me"
Charles nods, and Max hugs him again. He lets go of his hand to grab his waist. They stand in silence for a while, holding onto each other right in front of the bed. It’s peaceful, safe. It’s enough.
Max breaks the silence. "I could," he whispers in Charles’ hair, it makes the other man pause.
"What?" he asks clueless, not understanding what Max means.
"I could kiss you. Do you want that?"
Charles’ whole body shuddered at the thought. Not for the first time, he wonders how it would feel. "Max…"
“Charles…” the other man replies simply, still holding onto him. Charles closes his eyes and hides his face in his neck. He can feel his cheeks blushing, it’s enough of an answer.
“I wouldn’t mind” he replies quietly, instead of the yes he wants to scream.
Immediately, Max sets some distance between them, and Charles is forced to let go and open his eyes. He gulps, looking at the deep blue in front of him. Max cradles his face with both of his hands, his thumbs so close to his head. He’s holding him like water, and Charles wants to cry again. The love he’s being showered with is almost overwhelming. He tries to look at the hands, but Max chooses this moment to bring their lips together. It’s soft, like everything else is right now. They move against each other in coordination. Charles tries to deepen the kiss, his own hand grabbing Max by the neck, his tongue trying to dance with the other man. Max pulls off with a smile on his face, he brings their foreheads together and finds his eyes sparkling. He goes for a second kiss, and then a third. “You’re so cute,” he says, dropping a kiss on the top of his nose. Charles blushes even more.
“Stop that” Charles whines.
Max chuckles, “I don’t think so.” He brushes off an eyelash on his cheek with his thumb, and Charles follows the movement silently. “We should move to the bed maybe”
“Why?” Charles asks, feeling a mix of anticipation and anxiety. He’s eager, but he’s also scared of it being too much.
“To kiss you some more, if that’s okay? Nothing more,” Max replies, his kind eyes looking for an answer on Charles' face. It eases the anxiety immediately.
The Monégasque nods, and Max smiles at him. “Up your arms for me, please.” Charles does what’s asked of him, and Max takes off his shirt. His eyes stay locked on his, not wandering anywhere else. “What do you usually sleep in?” he asks casually.
Charles thinks for a moment, “Just shorts”
“Okay,” Max says, throwing the shirt on the bed and making him sit down on the edge of it.
He unbuttons his jeans and Charles lets him, his gaze wandering between his hands and his face. He takes off the jeans and throws them next to the shirt. Charles feels exposed, too naked in front of a man with all of his clothes on. He can’t ignore it.
“I’m naked, and you still have your shoes on,” he tries to joke, but it comes out embarrassed.
Max frowns. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable”
“I’m not. It just feels weird”
Max kicks off his shoes like they are burning his feet. He throws his shirt on the ground, standing only in sweatpants. Charles can’t offer him the same ignorance while being faced with his body. His eyes roam all over his chest, and he notices the pink spreading under his gaze. He looks up, finding a shy-looking Max. “Well, now I’m the one who’s embarrassed,” he tries to joke too.
Charles frowns, “Why?”
“Well…” Max gestures at his body defeated, and it does something weird to Charles’ heart.
“You look great, Max,” he says easily, feeling like he needs to say something.
Max chuckles like he would after a good joke, “You don’t have to do that. We should focus on you. Don’t worry about me”
“I’m not worrying. I’m just telling you the truth. You look great, and so does your body. I like it, and so should you. There is nothing to hide or be embarrassed about”
Max smiles fondly at him. “Thank you, Charlie. You look good too, perfect even”
Charles smiles, “I do?”
Max hums, offering him a pair of shorts to sleep in. Charles puts it on and waits for Max’s next move. It comes quickly, in the form of a kiss on his forehead. Charles can’t help the smile spreading all over his face—almost too big. Max lays him down on the bed and stands towering above him without touching, his hands on each side of his body to help him stay still. He kisses his nose again before his lips start a new journey, touching every inch of his face. Charles giggles and tries to squirm out of it, Max loses his balance and falls on him. They both giggle, “I'm sorry” Max speaks up, kissing his chin and Charles melts. He runs his finger into his hair while Max looks at him fondly. Max takes one of his hands in his to kiss the knuckles before guiding the hand back into his blond hair.
The path of kisses starts in his neck this time, and Charles shivers under the touch. All of his senses are filled with Max. Max’s lips on his skin, Max’s wet noises, Max’s perfume. He kisses his Adam apple, and Charles hums, his fingers still playing in the mop of hair.
The lips continue their travel and make a new halt on Charles’ chest where Max lays kisses like his life depends on it, maybe it does, and Charles just isn’t aware. “You’re so…” Charles starts and never finishes the sentence, the words are lacking in his mouth. Max is everything at that moment, and it would be cruel to try and find an adjective that doesn’t truly fit him. They don’t encapsulate Max, the words don't exist yet, and maybe they never will. So Charles has to make himself understood differently. He let go of his hair to trace the shape of his nose with his finger. Max’s eyes immediately shift to him. He kisses the chest under him one more time before laying his head on it, eyes still locked on Charles’. The Monégasque runs his fingers all over his face, Max kisses them every time they pass his lips.
Charles cradles his face. “Thank you,” he murmurs.
Max shakes his head, “You don’t have to thank me, love. It’s nothing.”
“It’s a lot, Max” he says, smiling at him.
“Mh, not even close to enough. You deserve so much more”
“Come here.” Charles guides him up, holding his face until they are on the same level.
This time, Charles is the one to initiate the contact between their lips. He sets the tone and the rhythm, and Max just lets him, happily kissing back, a smile carved on his face.
They lay down next to each other after that, before Max's hand finds its home on the bare skin on top of the other man's waist. Charles’ body immediately craves the warmth lying next to him, so he listens to his needs and brings their bodies close, his head laying right next to his heart. Max hugs him close.
“You’ll be okay.” Max whispers, pressing a kiss on the top of his hair.
Right then, Charles remembers how he wasn’t, not so long ago, before Max worked his magic on him in a new way, making him forget everything else. “I am,” he replies easily, because he is. Right now, he’s more than okay. He’s at peace. He feels safe.
“Of course you are baby” Max replies, tightening his grip around Charles while the Monégasque nuzzles even more against the warm skin of his neck. He presses a kiss there, making Max shiver this time, before closing his eyes.
Max interlaces their fingers and brings them to his mouth. Charles hums and the sound vibrates on Max’s skin. The Dutchman smiles, closing his eyes too.
They’ll both be okay. Charles knows, Max never doubted it.