Chapter Text
Max rolled his eyes, hoping the the tear tracks don't look as bad as they feel. Hoping Charles would just leave him alone.
He pulls himself off the bed, dragging his feet to the bathroom, hand hovering in air to the sink, he cannot open his eyes, face the mirror, see what the boys at the camp saw.
The consistent knocking at the door has stopped by the time his eyes are red but devoid of water. Charles left. He shouldn't stay anyway.
Max opens the door and oh, it's the jacket he was wearing at the camp being used as a pillow. His hairs look more ruffled than usual, his body uncomfortable on the hard floor. He is angelic, even in sleep. And he cycled all the way here because Dad had not let him in the car.
Max cannot help the whimper that leaves him.
"Max?" Charles blinks up at him, on his foot as soon as he saw the Dutchman.
"Max- your Mum let me in-" Max lunges at him, how can he not? He cycled all the way here. For Max. "-oh."
Warm hands circle his torso, he buries his head into the crook of Charles' neck. He hopes that Charles doesn't mind the tears. Or him. Especially him.
"Max, I- they are wrong."
He sobs in response, clutching at the red shirt, they are not wrong. Charles doesn't know it.
"Max, please, they are wrong." He feels warmth at the bottom of his skull, "Baby, you have to know they are wrong. So is Jos. You understand? They are all stupid and wrong. Okay? I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you, and they are wrong."
They are not. Charles doesn't know it. But Max is helpless to hang onto him and believe it.