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"Do you remember what day it is?"
"Non. I lost count after 25, 26 something."
Max shifts a under the duvet, his eyes trained towards the sky.
Charles couldn't help but smile at the sight, he had debated bringing the giant thing with him, but seeing Max under him, looking at the stars, it was a good idea.
"Do you think we will break it?"
"The loop?"
"Yeah, Charles." Max huffs and shuffles to his side, turning his face to Charles, Charles looks away. "The loop, what else?"
Forgive Charles for admiring a master piece, "I don't know."
He closes his eyes, unable to keep looking at Max when the Dutchman stares right at him "I hope so."
Max chuckles, Charles imagines how his eyes must crinkle up, soft lips- the tiny freckle that Charles loves, tousled hairs from nuzzling into the pillow like a cat, blonde hairs that has a dog named after it-
"Can't imagine that you do. Winning Monaco over and over again, must be a dream come true."
Well. It is. That, and every single moment he has spent with Max. The first two days, he thought he was alone, then Max talked about the pizza Charles had a night before- He had told Max the next day that he had an onion pizza, salami on the day before. Max remembered them both. Max is stuck as well.
The first week they watched Groundhog Day for answers, the second week Charles ditched his Monaco parties to show Max his harbour, the third week Max took him to a Gelato shop for tourists so Charles took him to LEC, Fourth week he took Max to The Private Collection of Antique Cars of H.S.H. Prince Rainier III, they lost count after the palace.
Charles still raced sometimes to re-live Monaco but Max stops after FP3, the results never change, whether they drive or not. Max could be tucked on a beautiful harbour under Charles' duvet but his car will cross the line sixth at Circuit De Monaco anyway. So he doesn't bother. He loves the harbour Charles showed him, the gelato and the museums, the soft duvet and lying under the stars. Charles loves him.
So, yeah. It's a thing now. Max gazes the stars till he falls asleep and Charles adores him well beyond the time Max falls asleep.
They have stopped caring about the things that happen. It all resets to zero the next day anyway. Max takes him to meet Jimmy and Sassy, she sleeps on his chest and then growls like she doesn't know him when it strikes 12. It hurts. But he has Max. His mother meets Max and whispers to Charles to keep him, Charles has heard it more than 30 times now and he wants to cry to his mother he can't. He can't have Max the way he wants, he wants so much. He wants to hold Max when they watch Groundhog Day for the thousandth time, he wants to kiss Max on the harbour; under the stars, He wants to lick the ice cream off the beauty spot on Max's top lip, he wants to hold Max's hand as his eyes sparkle at the car lined at the palace- he wants too much, he always has. Too much from the red team, too much from the blue boy.
"Hey" Charles blinks to clear the fog in his eyes and turns his head towards the sound, "I know I am the last person you wanted to get stuck with, but, look, on the bright side, you got almost an year of me being P6! You won the Groundhog Day WDC, for sure."
And. No. No, to the Groundhog Day WDC, He wants a real one, fighting Max to the finish line. No, for sure to the-- last person he wants to get stuck with? Connard, What has he done to make Max believe such a vile thing.
"Max, what? I love being stuck with you!"
"What?"
"No, I mean. Listen, I like you, Okay? I like your company. You are not the last person I'd like to be stuck with." No, no, of course you are not. You are the first, probably the only. He'd come close to murdering Arthur by the third day anyway.
"Oh." Max blinks at him, crimson colouring his pale cheeks, is the duvet not enough?
"It is just that you hated me, when we were younger. You'd hate being stuck with me."
But I love you now. So much, so much that it's unbearable to look at you and not love you, it climbs to my throat, stuck to my tongue. I love you, I love you, so much that it hurts to be so close.
Charles chuckles, a sad pitiful thing, he can say it in his head and in his heart, all day long. Max appears and it's his heart in his throat, his palms are sweaty, and he can't breathe. "I know, I know, I'm stuck with you. I wouldn't have it any other way."
"Oh." The Dutchman sighs, tension running out of his body, how long has he been thinking Charles hates him?
"I- I love the way you insist we watch documentaries on time loops to solve this, I love how you say gelato, I love how the corner of your eyes crinkle when you really laugh, I love the way your hairs spike like an hedgehog and how you kind you are when you think no one is looking. I love the way sun shines right at you, from you it brightens and, I-" He shifts closer. fuck it, right? fuck it. "Here," Max follows his hands on his own pink cheeks, there's a hitched breath under his palm, desire swirling where he touches. He wants too much. "I love how you blush, love how you look after a race, and," he slides his thumb closer to Max's lips, Max looks right at him, "The mole on here, I want to kiss it."
it's warmer under his hand, then above, as Max covers it, "Why don't you?"
And. And why doesn't he? Max pulls his fingers over the mole and kisses it. Why doesn't he?
"I- Max." There's a sting at the corner of his eyes, Max has his hand between his palms- Why doesn't he?
"Charles, please."
So, he does. Why wouldn't he?