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It was late at night when Charles stepped out of the bathroom. His hair was still slightly damp, and there was a faint scent of soap clinging to him. He was now wrapped in a thin sweater and a pair of soft linen pants. Max’s penthouse was quiet, yet warm. The city lights of Monaco glowed through the tall windows, casting a gentle shimmer on the wooden floor.
Max stood in front of a small speaker in the living room, playing a song Charles recognized within two seconds. The melody was tender and fragile, like a prayer sung quietly from someone’s chest.
The piano played softly, as if coming from another room. Then came the vocals—raspy and floating, almost a whisper: broken, but full of affection. This wasn’t a grand or theatrical version. Quite the opposite—it was hushed, slow, and trembling. Each verse sounded like an intimate confession.
“Wise men say, only fools rush in...”
Without saying a word, Max held out his hand.
Charles let out a quiet sigh before stepping closer. Their hands met, fingers interlocking instinctively like a long-standing habit that never faded. Max pulled Charles into his embrace, one arm wrapped around his waist, the other holding his hand calmly.
They began to sway gently—not dancing with specific steps, just moving with the rhythm of the music and their own feelings.
“Do you remember the first time we danced?” Max asked, his voice low near Charles’s ear.
Charles smiled softly. “Of course. You stepped on my foot twice.”
Max chuckled quietly. “I was nervous,”
“You still are.”
“Not because of the dance.”
Charles looked up slightly, but Max didn’t explain. He only smiled faintly, then lowered his head and kissed Charles’s temple gently.
They stayed silent for a long time. The song kept playing. Their breaths were in sync. Outside, the world moved on as usual, but inside that penthouse, everything felt still. There was only the sound of their hearts and Mike Hadreas singing love like a whispered secret.
“But I can’t help… falling in love… with you.”
The song played on with a softness that seemed to wrap around them. The piano remained faithful, creating a space so intimate—it was as if the universe had bowed its head to give them a place to fall in love all over again.
Charles closed his eyes, leaning into Max’s chest.
“I never get tired of this,” he whispered. “Of you. Of us.”
Max closed his eyes, too.
“Me neither.”
A few seconds later, as the song neared its end, Max slowly let go of their embrace. Charles looked at him in surprise, especially when Max reached into his pocket and knelt down on the floor.
“Max…”
Charles froze. His breath caught.
Max didn’t speak right away. Slowly, he opened a small box, revealing a simple white gold ring—nearly plain, but deeply meaningful. A promise that didn’t need luxury to shine.
His eyes met Charles’s—eyes that usually never showed fear, now filled with hesitation and courage at once.
“Take my hand… take my whole life too...”
The lyrics filled the room gently, echoing what Max felt. As if the song knew he didn’t just want to dance—he wanted to walk with him, all the way.
“For years I’ve tried to be the fastest man in the world. But out of everything I’ve done… loving you is the only thing that never felt rushed.”
Charles covered his mouth with his hand. His eyes began to fill with tears.
“I’ve loved you in silence, in noise, in loss, in victory. At home, at the paddock, on the balcony, in the kitchen when you’re still half-asleep. I’ve loved you in every version of our life. And I want to keep doing that—forever.”
Max swallowed hard.
“So… will you marry me?”
Charles didn’t answer right away. His tears fell first. Then he nodded, quickly and repeatedly, before throwing himself into Max’s arms.
Max nearly toppled from the force of Charles’s embrace. But he laughed—a small laugh through tears—and held him tightly, as if the world might collapse if he let go.
“Yes…” Charles’s voice was hoarse, muffled against Max’s neck. "Of course I will, I've always wanted to!"
Max took a deep breath, his body trembling. He hugged Charles tightly, while the song reached its final lines—a fragile voice repeating a simple, everlasting confession.
“But I can’t help… falling in love… with you.”
The ring finally slipped onto Charles’s finger. The same finger that always held Max’s hand when he was tired, afraid, when the world was too harsh.
And there in the living room, beneath the city lights and a silent sky, they danced again. Without music, only the rhythm of their hearts filling the quiet with a timeless vow. No doubt. Only love.
Charles pulled back slightly from the embrace, just enough to look at Max’s face. Their eyes met. Neither of them rushed to speak. Only a sweet silence born from feelings too full to name.
Then Charles whispered, barely audible, “Je t’aime.”
Max smiled softly, warmly, completely. His gaze didn’t waver, and in a voice low and full, he replied, “Ik hou van je.”
And in that moment, when everything felt too beautiful to believe, Max leaned down, Charles lifted his face just a little—and their lips finally met.
It wasn’t a kiss full of urgency. But it was deep. Long. Calm. Like the answer to every doubt they’d ever felt. Like a door opening to a new life—together.
And when they slowly pulled apart, their foreheads rested against each other. Breaths still mingling. Smiles refusing to fade.
Forever had begun—with a dance, with stillness, with love that fell slowly… and finally fell completely.
Slowly. But surely.