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Hate was a strong word. For any context, for any situation. Despite that, Max saw no exaggeration when he thought “I hate Wednesdays”.
Why? Some might have asked. Who hates Wednesday? It should have been Mondays yet Max was neither Garfield nor hated his job. On the contrary, he loved his job. What he hated was chasing criminals. When he first signed up as an officer, he had not imagined being on the streets and doing the heavy work.
No.
He had thought he would sit at a desk, manage operations, and make plans. He was qualified for that, and he was promised this when he had chosen this profession. It was strange to be a police officer for someone as clever as him. He could have been anything he’d like, study at any university.
Perks of being a member of Mensa.
But Max had chosen to be here and work for his country, for his people. And where was he now? Chasing rats on the street. It was his punishment for not going by the book. This was a small exile even if they didn't explicitly say it. What else he would be here for? In Strasbourg.
A fucking boring city.
He missed Paris. He missed his office. He missed his desk.
Max exhaled, rubbing his face. He only needed to hold on for two more months, and he was done. He was going to be back in his city and chasing billion-dollar criminals and not these petty street gangs.
The knock on his side window brought him back to reality. It was Charles, of course, it was him. The kid had been a pain in the ass for the first two months for Max. Getting arrested every-fucking-day, walking free the next. The kid knew the law like the back of his hand. He excelled at getting in trouble just enough to force Max to chase him, but not enough to get himself thrown into jail.
After their two months-long cat-and-mouse play, Max finally had enough of it and one day instead of taking Charles to the police station, he had taken him out to dinner. That had surprised the nineteen years old, it was something Max had not managed up until that point. Max had figured Charles out when the usually confident and cocky boy had failed to stop shaking for the first fifteen minutes.
The troubled teenager had a crush.
Adorable.
Ever since the dinner they had shared, Max had kept the boy under control, away from trouble with the help of Charles’s daddy issues and a little bit of harmless flirting. Why was he even bothering? He often asked himself and but all the answers he was giving to that question were bullshit. On a Frank William Abagnale level bullshit.
Okay, maybe he did find the kid charming, but it was only and only because he was alone in this boring city and the only constant he had in his life had been Charles.
The only familiar face.
Only friend.
But nothing more than that. He was nearly thirty, for crying out loud, he wasn’t going to fall for a nineteen-year-old-would-be-criminal.
“Morning, sexy,” Charles said, getting in the car. He handed Max the hot coffee, brushing Max’s fingers with his own. They were cold, as expected from January.
“Find the line, Charles,” Max warned, trying to stand his ground against the foxy boy. It was getting harder and harder. He had almost given in two weeks ago, the plan had been only dinner that day, but at the end of the night, Max had found himself in Charles’s run-down apartment, half-naked.
What had been more interesting was alcohol had played zero role in the story. As Max had said, Charles was a charming little bastard.
Charles sipped his hot chocolate. “Why do you have to be so formal all the fucking time? You know I am not seventeen, right? I am legal.
Max rolled his eyes. “I don’t even think the clothes you are wearing are legal,” he said, checking the boy, who was dressed in Louis Vuitton, from head to toe. “You know shoplifting is a felony.”
Charles smirked. “I don’t know what you are talking about.” He gripped the hot cup tighter, he was still slightly shivering. “They are imitation clothes.”
“Nope,” Max shook his head. “I have a keen eye for precious items, I know a valuable thing when I see one.”
“Is that an attempt to flirt with me?”
Max let out a laugh. “No, kid. It’s my way of saying stay away from trouble. I’ll be gone soon, the next officer won’t be as patient as me.”
“I am not a kid.” Charles pouted, crossing his arms. “You kissed me, do you kiss kids?”
It was only because you looked at me like that; you enchanting son of a bitch.
“That was… I didn’t… I was,” Max stopped himself, taking a deep breath. “Get out of the car, Charles.”
“What?” Charles exclaimed. “But I came to see you on a bike in this weather.”
Max reached out over Charles and pushed the car door open, he could have made it up to Charles tomorrow, but he wasn’t in the mood today. He was getting too tangled up with this troubled teenager and with this city; he was going to abandon both in two months. This was just a detour for Max. There was no need to give hope to Charles, Max was going to go back to his life in Paris soon. It was not like he could take the boy with him. Give him a chance to live in a better place, give him a chance to use his intelligence for something good, something that would matter.
He cannot fit in my life back home, do not give him false hopes. I am not a charity, every man is for himself
“You shouldn’t have,” Max said. “Out.”
Charles stared back at him with puppy eyes. “Max, I just want to spend some time with you and chat, I’ve got no one else, please.”
Max sighed. “I am sure you have better friends than a police officer who hates your guts.”
Charles grabbed Max’s wrist, his hands were freezing. How long he had been waiting here for Max to show up for his patrol? “You don’t hate me, tell me you don’t hate me.”
“I don’t,” Max said. He didn’t want to lie about that. “But you are a street rat and you don’t belong with me, Mr Leclerc. Get out now, please.”
Too harsh, too harsh, Max. He won’t speak to you for a week.
I can make it right in two days, but I really need him gone right now.
Charles sent him a murderous glance. “I won’t forget this Verstappen,” he said, dropping his hot chocolate on Max’s lap. The lid opened and spilt the hot beverage over Max’s legs. Charles was gone before Max could react. The burn wasn’t that bad; it was just annoying just like Charles was sometimes.
The rest of Max’s shift was uneventful, which in this neighbourhood meant only a busy night, but his shift was over and it was somebody else’s problem now. The warmth of his house welcomed Max as he got home. The weather was a bitch today, the cold had bit his hands and face on the brief trip from his car to here. The house was quiet as it always was, as it had been ever since Max turned eighteen. He didn’t mind, though, not anymore. He threw his stained trousers into the washing machine and changed to sleepwear.
It was still early, but all he wanted for the night was some Chinese takeout and a movie. He chose Stutter Island for the night, a gloomy movie that would go well with his brooding self. Even though it was his third time watching this movie Di Caprio’s performance captured him once again, so much that he almost missed the call. Grabbing his phone without taking his eyes off his television, Max glanced down quickly. A cat emoji was flashing on the screen. As he saw the caller was Charles, he understood why he had chosen this movie. When he first brought Charles home, they had watched this movie together. It had been after he had shown up all beaten up in front of Max, asking for a painkiller as if nothing was wrong. They talked about the movie until Charles fell asleep.
That was a fun day.
Max answered the call without hesitation. “It’s me who should call to apologise, dummy, being older doesn’t mean I am always right.”
A cough was heard from the other side of the phone.
Did you manage to catch a cold? I’ll be the one who has to care for you, won’t I?
“You are never right,” Charles said, his voice a bit weak. How did he get this ill in eight hours? “How are you?”
“Did you call me at this hour to ask about my well-being?”
Another cough.
“Can’t I?”
“You can,” Max gave in. “Is your apartment warm? I have little hope. I can come and pick you up, if not.”
Way to give mixed signals, Maxie.
I don’t want the kid to be cold, sue me.
Charles coughed again, this time the cough was accompanied by a muffled groan. “I thought I was a street rat.”
“Charles, what is wrong with you?” Max asked. This wasn’t like coughing when you were sick.
“I should have listened to you,” Charles said, sounding ever weaker. “But I guess that’s what street rats deserve.”
Max straightened up on the couch, getting worried by the minute. “I was just trying to chase you away, okay? Where are you? What is wrong?”
“I picked a fight with the wrong people,” Charles said. “A fitting ending for a life like mine.”
“What, what ending? Charles, are you hurt?” Max got off the couch and walked to the door. He needed to get to him.
“It snowed, you know. I love snow. Never had a snowball fight though.” Max started to hear the elevated breathing, which Charles was trying his hardest to conceal, but it was there. “Maybe you and me, we can…” A moan escaped his lips. “... maybe we can have a snowball fight one day, what would you say to that, officer?”
Max put his shoes on and grabbed his coat, exiting his house. “Charles, where are you, tell me where you are.”
“I don’t know, I run too much to keep count, cunts did not give up, I must have pissed them off too much.”
Max walked to his car. “Okay, send me your location.”
“It’s too cold, Max. Tell me maybe after today we can go somewhere warm, like Ibiza, I saw it on the TV. Seems like a nice place.”
“Charles, send me your location, now,” Max demanded again. This stupid kid had received a good beating again, didn’t he? Why was he saying stupid shit like this?
Charles let out a pained moan. “I can’t move my arm, it’s too cold. They took the clothes, I shouldn’t have worn them, but I wanted you to see me in something pretty.”
“Who are they, Charles talk to me, what is going on?”
“I got stabbed,” Charles said with a manic laugh. “Fuck, it hurt. I thought I could talk myself out of it like always but I couldn’t this time.”
Max paused, trying to process the information. “From where… from… from your leg, arm, where?” He was a police officer, he was trained to remain calm in these situations, so why was his voice quivering?
“From my tummy,” Charles said. “It was a big knife, Max, I didn’t think he would actually do it.”
“Why did you call me, you fucking moron?” Max shouted, he started the car and drove. Where was he going? He didn’t know.
“I told you, I have no one else.”
These words hurt Max’s heart, making it ache. “No, no, I mean why didn’t you call an ambulance?”
“They cannot make it in time,” Charles said.
“No, they can, they can find you from your phone, hang up and call them.”
“No, no, no,” Charles begged. “No, please, I don’t want to die alone in this blind alley. Please, don’t leave me alone.”
“You will not die, Charles-”
“There is so much blood, so much. It was keeping me warm at the beginning, but I feel nothing now, just the cold… stinging me.”
Max’s vision blurred. He wiped his eyes; it wasn’t time to cry. What did this boy know? He would not die. He drove towards Charles’s apartment, hoping he was somewhere close there. “What do you see around? Any shops, maybe a street sign?”
“Max, talk to me about the future,” Charles’s voice was fading more every time he spoke. Max did not have much time left to find him.
“Future?” Max texted his friend back in Paris quickly.
Lando, find this number’s location, no question asked. I need it as fast as you can provide.
“Yes. Talk to me as if I have a future, maybe a future together.”
“You have a future Charles, I’ll find you, I’ll save you.”
“I can’t feel my legs,” Charles said, panic rising in his voice. “It’s too cold, it’s too cold.” Max heard sobbing.
More tears run down Max’s cheeks. He got a reply in the meantime.
Give me five minutes, Verstappen.
“Hey, hey, Charles, listen to me, what do you say about moving to Paris with me?” Max asked to distract Charles, giving him a future he could hold on to.
“What?” He sounded calmer.
“You and me, we can live together in Paris. What do you have here, anyway? You can leave. Would you like that?”
“Yes.” Max almost heard the smile in Charles's voice. “But how can I pay for rent?”
“You are a clever boy, I know a couple of people. Maybe we can mould you into a lawyer? Would that be good? You told me once that it was your biggest dream.”
Charles coughed. “I can never afford that.”
“I’ll lend you some money, then you pay it back to me. I’d love to have a lawyer flatmate.”
“I can cook for you, you suck at it,” Charles said.
“Yes, you can.” Max chuckled. “And I clean around, you suck at that.”
“That would be perfect.”
“That will be perfect,” Max corrected him. “I’ll take you to breakfast tomorrow then we can have that snow fight you want to have, but I warn you, I am the best at that.”
“We’ll see tomorrow,” Charles replied. “Max, thank you.”
The older checked his phone for the location, but there was no message from Lando, yet. “What for?”
“For… for,” Charles’s voice was quieting, he was fading and Max wasn’t able to do anything about it. Why did he throw him out of his car today? Why didn’t he invite him to dinner? He could have prevented this. “For caring about me, calling me, checking up on me. I never had someone like you before. I can tell you it felt good.”
“No, Charles, thank you for keeping me company, being my friend, but now save your energy, don’t talk. I almost reached you.”
Lie.
“Would you have loved me if we met under different circumstances?” Charles asked.
“Charles, don’t talk, just hold on.”
“I love you in these circumstances too,” Charles said. “Maybe in another life, we could do the things we just planned, maybe in another life where I am not such a failure.”
“It will be in this life, Charles. Can you hear my car? I am almost there.”
“You didn’t answer my question, officer,” Charles said. Even taking a breath it was too much of a problem now. “I am too sleepy, Max.”
Max’s phone vibrated, Charles’s location was only a kilometre away. He exhaled with relief. “Don’t, it’s just because of the blood loss. I’ll be there in a minute, Charles.”
“Yeah?” Charles whispered. “Good.”
“And for your question, I don’t need different circumstances to love you, Charles. You are quite easy to be fond of already,” Max confessed, it was easy actually, easier than he had imagined in his head.
He waited for Charles’s reaction, but there was silence on the other end.
No, no, no. He just has no energy left, right? Or too shocked, or the phone’s out of battery.
“Charles, can you hear me? Charles, talk to me,” Max begged for a word, a grunting, a breath. Anything.
He heard nothing.