Archive of Our Own ^beta

October, Senior Year

Max sighed as he rested his chin on the palms of his hands, shivering on the benches as the football game unfolded before him. He really should have brought a scarf with him.

He could barely make out Charles and Carlos in the mix of players in the field, the bright white 55 and 16 that stood out on their red shirts the only way Max could tell them apart.

Max wasn't really a sport guy, never had been (much to his father's dismay). But he had promised he would have gone to at least one of his friends' matches of the season, so there he was, watching what he assumed was the final match of the tournament.

But man, it was so boring. He was tempted to take out his headphones from his backpack, to at least have some sort of distraction. But it would have looked rude, he figured, especially if Carlos or Charles were to look his way and see him with attention elsewhere other than the game.

Ah, the things he did for his friends. And, to be fair, they did promise to go to the concert that night with him if he showed up to the game.

Not that Max needed an emotional support or anything, but George had started to spot him during his performances. He couldn't have him thinking crazy stuff like that Max was there for him and not for the music, so Max had invited Charles and Carlos as well.

A loud ring woke Max from his half-asleep state, signaling the game was over. He glanced over the score board and, while he knew little to nothing about football's rules, from the way the red team was cheering and the numbers glowing on the screen, Max assumed Carlos and Charles had won.

"Woo! Go Wild Horses!" Someone cheered to his right, wearing their school team's colours, confirming Max's assumption.

One hour later he was leaning against the locker room's wall, waiting for Carlos and Charles. When they finally appeared they looked clean and perfumed, wearing the team's jersey. Carlos eyed him with a smug grin, swinging an arm around his shoulder. "Woah mate, can't believe you actually showed up."

Charles patted his back as the trio started to walk towards the school's exit. Max gasped and pretended to be offended, "why, I'd never miss one of you guys' games. Besides, we had a deal." He added in a more serious tone. Charles rolled his eyes.

The moment they opened the school's exit doors the cold October air hit Max's face once more, bringing the three friends to collectively let out a huff and tense, hugging their jackets closer to their bodies in hope to find more warmth.

"It'll be fun, I promise." Max reassured them, crossing his arms on his chest to shield himself from the cold.

"Right. Are we sure they're good by the way? I don't want to be dragged to a concert having high expectations just for them to turn out and be some lousy boyband wannabes." Charles complained, but Max shook his head.

"They're not. Pretty sure they hate the term boyband." Carlos interjected, shaking his head. "I've heard them once or twice because Lando invited me. Not my genre honestly, but they're good."

Charles hummed. Among the two he had been the more difficult one to convince to come, while Carlos had accepted - because of his friendship with Lando - pretty easily.

"Will you have some faith in me?"

"And your awful taste? No."

Carlos let out a laugh, throwing his head back. "Honestly Max, we both thought you would have taken that girl you've been going out with with you."

Max's cheeks grew red like Carlos' words had physically slapped him. He shook his head, trying to play it cool. "What girl?"

"Right, you have so many it's not easy to keep track uh?" Charles commented sarcastic, Carlos suffocating a chuckle but still humored Max.

"The one in college."

"As if that narrows the field."

"Okay- Charles." Carlos playfully scowled him, slapping his shoulder, though he was obviously trying not to break out in a smile.

Max stared at both his friends unimpressed. "Are you done?" He knew they didn't hide any malice behind their words, besides, it wasn't like Max cared. Had he gone out with college girls during the past year? Yes. Hardly a crime, without mentioning he never once slept with them.

The rumour had spread the year before, that he apparently had lost his virginity to a girl who was on her first year of college. "Did I?" Had been his reaction to the news. He had never done anything like it, but nothing to stop the rumours neither.

The only people who knew the truth were Carlos and Charles, who had the time of their life teasing him about it.

"C'mon, what was her name?"

"Jennie?"

"I think it was Jane."

"Jessica?"

"Janet!" Max yelled out, getting exasperated at his friends. "Her name's Janet. Jesus, you two need to find a hobby."

Carlos and Charles fist bumped, chuckling, "but it's so fun to tease you."

Carlos cleared his throat. "Seriously though, why didn't you ask Janet?"

"We decided to end things." Max replied, cutting it short. Carlos and Charles exchanged a worried look.

"And you're…"

"Absolutely fine. We called it quit a few days ago, I'm over it. I'm good." Max's tone left room for no argument, so his friends didn't say anything back and kept walking in silence.

Three days before

"I don't get why you're being so… whiny about it." Max declared, throwing himself on his bed while Janet stared at him looking baffled.

"Whiny? Max, I'm just asking you to spend your Friday night with me."

"And I told you, you can!"

"Yes, in a bar surrounded by sweaty teenagers with obnoxious music playing-"

"Their music is not obnoxious." Max immediately sat straight up, defending his friends (and George).

"Debatable. But even then, Max, I can't remember the last time we had a weekend to ourselves! You always choose them over us!"

"You're being unfair." Max replied, hurt. "They're my friends, I want to support them."

"Okay, what about the fact I just want to spend some time with my boyfriend alone? Just the two of us?"

Max felt something tugging at his heart then, taken back by Janet's words. "B-boyfriend? I'm your boyfriend?"

"What the fuck Max, yes, of course you are." Janet replied in disbelief, looking unsure wether to laugh at the absurdity of the argument or at how stupid Max was behaving.

"Don't say it like it's obvious, we've never labeled it!"

"Did we need to? We've been going out for the past two weeks, every date has been better than the other, You've met my parents, Jesus Christ!" She exclaimed, exasperated. "You're telling me it was just casual to you?"

Max stared at Janet with his lips parted, mouthing nonsense as he tried to get words out, but with no idea what to say. Janet must have taken his silence as agreement, because she let out a surprised and hurt scoff before running a hand through her hair.

"Wow. Just- wow."

"Janet-"

"Don't, Max." She warned him, raising a finger to stop him from whatever he was going to say next which, honestly, he wasn't even sure of yet. She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed, glaring at Max.

"Look, you didn't know, fine. Bad communication, I guess." She commented, though Max could tell it was just a way to avoid further fighting on the argument. "Do you want to officially start dating now, then?"

And Max knew that he should have said yes. It was the obvious answer, wasn't it? Yes Janet, I like you and you're amazing, only a fool would let a girl like you go. Instead he stared at her pathetically, waiting for the answer to magically appear in his head. Why was it so hard to pronounce a single word? To admit his feelings, to tell Janet he wanted to be with her?

Maybe because those aren't your true feelings.

He ignored the voice in his head and nodded his head. "Hm." He hummed, hoping that would be enough.

It clearly wasn't, not for Janet. "Max, you can't even say it out loud…"

"I can! I can, I…" He couldn't.

Janet shook her head, laughing sadly."Okay. So that's how you feel." She stated, looking down. "I'm just a fling to you? Nothing to seriously care about?"

Max merely nodded before Janet's palm met his cheek, probably more out of disappointment than actual rage. "This is what I get for dating fucking children." Was the last thing she said before storming out of Max's bedroom, disappearing from his life for good.

Max started regretting choosing to show up the moment he stepped inside the bar. The Silver Arrows - George, Alex, Zhou and Lando's band - performed every weekend at the same place, a local bar called Pole Position. Max knew the place like the back of his hand by now, yet tonight the air felt different. Maybe it was the fact that that night Lando wasn't performing (due to a flu the week before which had reduced his vocal cords to strings weaker than paper straws), in his place it was Zhou's friend Oscar Piastri, a quiet kid Max never shared more than a few words with. They had only one class together, which Oscar usually spent sleeping on the desk, well hidden in the last row.

George and Alex were already on stage, though George was giving the back to the crowd, fixing something on his guitar.

Max barely had time to sigh and pull his hood off that Lando immediately cornered him. "Max! Long time no see!"

Max scoffed, flipping him off. Lando raised his hands up, defensively. "Hey, I have an excuse to be here every night, you don't. The least you can do is allowing me to make fun of you."

"My excuse is that I like good music." Max replied, crossing his arms. "Have you seen Charles and Carlos yet? I invited them to see the show tonight."

"No footballer in sight yet. I thought you'd bring Janet along, honestly. I was looking forward to finally know her!"

At least you remember her name. Max thought, bitterly, but shook his head. "We called it quit."

Lando frowned surprised, "Aw man, I thought it was going well. What happened?"

"What happened with what?" Alex appeared behind Lando, putting his arm around Lando's shoulders. "Oh hey Max!"

"Max broke up with his girlfriend." Lando explained, earning a glare from Max.

"I wasn't- dude! She wasn't my girlfriend."

Alex tilted his head confused. "No? But George said you'd leave class early just to meet up with her."

Max bit the inside of his cheek. "Clearly George doesn't know what he's talking about."

Lando faked a gag. "Woah, you were down bad. So she broke up with you uh?"

"Can you two stop talking and assuming?" Max snapped, putting his hands in his jacket's pocket. "We weren't exactly dating, just… seeing each other. She didn't want things to be serious, so we called it off." Maybe Janet was right, he was acting like a child, lying to his friends about who was at fault because he was too much of a coward to admit the truth.

Lando and Alex exchanged worried looks at the implications of what Max was saying, mirroring Charles and Carlos' expressions that afternoon after the game. "She called it off," Lando corrected, "but you wanted to start dating?"

"No! No, it's not… Look, it's fine. It was a mutual decision, we've parted ways peacefully. Now, don't you have a concert to play at?" Max asked, pointing at Alex and then the stage, where he found George was staring at them.

The moment Max's eyes landed on George he adverted his look, turning around and pretending to be searching something in his guitar's case. Max ignored him and rolled his eyes, bringing his attention back on Lando, who was waving at Alex as he left to hop on stage. Lando dropped the subject from then on, leading Max to a boot he had reserved for them.

"Don't ask me how I knew you were going to show up." Lando told him before Max could ask. "At this point you know the set list better than me."

Max hadn't replied, only faintly blushed, hoping the darkness of the bar helped cover it up. Ten minutes later Charles and Carlos showed up, just in time as the show started. The lights dimmed down, two bright headlights shined on George, Alex, Oscar and Zhou, who smiled widely. George played a few notes to warm up the crowd, earning loud cheers and claps from Lando. Carlos chuckled at that, but Max played little to no mind at them as his entire focus was on George and the way his fingers moved quickly on the guitar's strings.

Alex moved his bass aside and took the microphone, introducing the band. "Good evening everyone! For those of you who don't know us, we're the Silver Arrows! But if you're familiar with our music, you might have noticed a new entry among us…" He turned to look at Oscar, who smiled shyly. "Please give it up for Oscar, who'll cover for us while Lando's poor vocal chords recover!"

Lando immediately stood up and cheered, overlapping the rest of the bar's noises. Carlos' eyes widened in amusement. "I didn't know you were such a big fan of Oscar, Lan."

Charles elbowed him and winked. "Yeah. Keep going like this and I'll start thinking you got sick just so Oscar could step in for you."

"Shut up!" Lando said, defensive. "I'm just being supportive, that's it."

"Not so fun when you're on the other side of the teasing, uh." Max commented, taking a swing of whatever drink Lando had ordered for them, though his eyes stayed focused on the band.

If Lando heard his comment he pretended he didn't, though Max didn't miss the way he scowled and leaned against his seat crossing his arms.

The teasing didn't seem to stop Lando from clapping whenever they'd perform a song, cheering for Oscar who visibly blushed when he spotted him making all that noise.

Max's focus though was still entirely on George. Max had always wished he knew how to play the guitar, the sound so hypnotic and beautiful whenever he'd hear someone playing it, giving him a sense of quietness in his head. Max found himself mesmerized by the way his fingers moved so gracefully, like George spoke to the guitar and gently asked her to play with him.

December, Junior Year (one year ago)

Max knocked on the music room's door, hoping to find Charles in. Instead he was met with the sight of George Russell, headphones on as he played his guitar with a focused frown on his face. Max couldn't help but chuckle as he approached him, tapping him on his shoulder and making him jolt in surprise.

"Jesus, Max, I didn't hear you come in." George took off his headphones and put them aside, clearing his throat. "Do you need anything?"

"Not from you." Max said. "Charles said I could borrow his notes for history, but I can't find him anywhere and he's not answering his phone, I thought he'd be here practicing piano."

"Ah, I didn't see him at all today, sorry."

"All good. What were you playing?"

"Uh, nothing." He brushed it off, blushing. "Just something new I've been working on."

Max's eyebrows perked up in interest, fully entering the room and closing the door behind him. "Oh? Can I hear it?"

George blushed harder and shook his head. "It's just a few notes, nothing to go crazy about." Max moved a stool and sat down in front of George, pouting, folding his hands in a praying manner.

"Pretty please?"

George looked at Max and groaned, tapping his foot nervously on the floor, but finally gave in. "Fine." He murmured before detaching his headphones from the guitar and starting to play it.

The moment his fingers started to move on the strings it felt like the planet stopped spinning just to listen to him, not a sound in the world to disturb the poetry George was playing out. He wasn't even singing, yet the guitar spoke plenty for him.

The melody didn't last much, barely a few seconds, but Max was sure he heard nothing so beautiful before.

"That was great, George." Was the only thing he managed to say out loud. George blushed and looked away. "Wish I knew how to play so well." Max commented in a dreamy voice. George chuckled.

"It's not so difficult, really." He said, putting the guitar aside. "Never thought of learning?"

"I don't think I'd ever manage to play like you do." Max replied, grinning, teasing George.

George shook his head embarrassed. "Most of the work is the guitar anyway." He bit back. "I just listen to her."

Max frowned. "Listen?"

"You listen to her, take care of her. Make sure she's always ready to be played, don't push her too far."

Max cracked a joke, "it sounds like you're about to get her pregnant."

"In a way, yes," George replied serious, "she's about to give birth to the most beautiful melody you ever heard." And, true to his words, it had.

Max thought the relationship George had with his guitar was odd to say the least, but from the way he played every time he would have been a fool to admit it was anything but beautiful to admire.

By the fifth song - and Lando's fifth round of applause - Carlos' curiosity got the best of him. "How did you guys even got Oscar in?"

"Through Zhou," explained Lando. "We needed a temporarily new vocalist and he said Oscar was free for the weekend, covered for him. Also promised he'd buy all of us free drinks if his voice was shit- which it isn't, as you're hearing."

"As if you need any more." Carlos commented, nodding at the amount of empty glasses Lando had chugged down so far.

"Oh shut it, I can handle alcohol perfectly." Lando replied, slamming his fist against his chest in sign of pride. Max chuckled and shook his head, moving his feet in time with the rhythm of the song. And, as if to prove his point, Lando ordered another shot of- whatever, Max had tuned out his voice long time ago.

"Oscar's good." Charles agreed, tapping his fingers on the table in time with the music as the waiter arrived with Lando's drink.

"He's great." Lando corrected. "A bit shy, but he's so nice to hang out with. I hope he decides to stay once I get back on stage."

Max snorted at Lando's words, earning a glare from his friend. "What?"

"Nothing," Max shook his head, sipping on what he found out being a gin tonic, "it just sounds like you have a crush on the guy."

Lando choked on his drink while Carlos threw a worried glance at Lando, not expecting Max's comment. Charles simply let out a soft chuckle, taking a swing of his drink. "I do not!" He replied, defensive. "I'm just supportive."

Max shrugged. "Right, right. My bad." He turned back to the stage and rolled his eyes.

The night was going well, honestly. Carlos and Charles were having a good time, enjoying the music. Lando kept drinking and cheering for Oscar and Max was pretty sure he'd have such a strong hangover the day after that not even all the aspirin in the world could make go away.

As for Max, he was sipping on his drink every now and then, letting the music flow in his veins and absorbing every guitar's riff made by George like he was eating off Dionysus' feast.

And then, out of nowhere- "Asshole!"

Max heard the voice first, but his reflexes still weren't quick enough for him to manage to avoid the splash that came right after, the drink of whoever had yelled at him now spilled entirely on his face. Then came the slap, harsh and cold. Lando let out a loud gasp, his reaction probably empathized by all the alcohol he had drank.

"What the fuck?!" Max did his best to wipe the drink away from his face, trying to understand what exactly he could have done to piss anyone off.

"You absolute bitch! You fucking child!" The voice yelled again. And maybe it was the way she repeated those words in the exact same way she had done at Max's face a few days before, or maybe it was the fact there really wasn't anyone else who could be so upset at Max seemingly out of nowhere.

Either way, the moment Max realized it was Janet, he wished nothing more than to disappear under the table. Which was impossible, obviously, especially as Lando stood up at the same moment and clumsily shifted so he was in front of him, as if to shield him from Janet.

"Hey! Leave my friend alone!" The slurred tone did nothing to help Lando's case, who seemed a moment away from either passing out or throwing up at Janet's feet.

Or both.

Max closed his eyes and sighed, silently begging for something - anything - that would have saved him from that scene.

He had barely even noticed that the band had stopped playing, everyone's eyes in the bar on their table. Max only registered the music had stopped when he heard Alex's voice on the microphone, "Uhm, everything good there, guys?"

Janet scoffed at Lando, pushing him out of the way. From the way she was swaying she didn't seem entirely sober either, Max noticed. And, honestly, he wasn't sure if it was worse to have her drunk or not. At least then, maybe there was a slight chance her memories of their break up could have been slightly blurry.

There were two people behind Janet, looking rather embarrassed, trying to stop her from causing a bigger scene and to take her away. But she was keen on attacking Max, spitting her words at him like they were acid and he was going to melt just hearing them. "Oh he's good. Now that he's single and thriving and is able to date whoever he wants."

"Janet…" Max tried to speak, ignoring Carlos and Charles' whispers, while Lando stared at them looking offended.

Janet interrupted him immediately. "No, fuck off! I'm not here to listen to you!"

"Then why did you come in the first place?" Lando yelled back, Max was particularly surprised he managed to form such a coherent sentence so drunk.

"Shut up you british weird looking guitar player!" Janet raised her tone even more, pointing her finger Lando. Then, staring at him for a beat longer, "Max can't even describe people. You're short and brown haired." She muttered, squinting her eyes as if to focus better. Max gulped and felt himself grow warm inside at the accusation. Lando's eyebrows furrowed in confusion at her words, though he didn't have the time to reflect on them as Janet turned towards Max again.

"And you… I thought that, after the bullshit you told me the other day, you'd have the decency not to show up here today! To, to, I don't know, mourn us, or something! But no, you selfish prick. Not only did you attend this stupid concert-"

"Hey!" Alex yelled out, offended.

"- You also have the guts to get drunk and have fun while I'm with my friends, miserable, crying over your stupid ass!"

"Janet please," the friend at her left whispered, looking around, "we came, he's here, you cussed at him. Can we leave now?"

"I knew this was a terrible idea…" Her other friend murmured, looking seconds away from picking Janet up and carry her out herself.

Janet's expression shifted, her lips curving in a pout as she quietly started sobbing. "I wanted things to get serious with you!" And she clearly wanted to yell the sentence, yet it only came out as cracky, barely keeping herself together as her friends had to reach for her to keep her steady.

"Let's just go, Jan." Janet nodded, sniffing, but not before flipping Max off. Her friends offered her looks of pity before turning towards Max, glaring at him. He was pretty sure he heard one of them calling him a dick, the other one an asshole. And then they were gone, the crowd parting for them as they exited the bar.

Only then did Max realize everyone's eyes were on him, witnessing everything that had just happened. He turned to look at Charles and Carlos, who were in disbelief. Lando, still on the ground, was frowning like he was thinking too hard about a math equation he couldn't solve. Then his eyes moved to the stage, where Oscar, Alex and Zhou were staring at him confused and George, who was wearing an unreadable expression on his face.

Max cleared his throat and stood up, acting like he was fine and wasn't actively fighting stressed tears from spilling out. He turned to Charles, "I'll text you when I get home." Barely a whisper, but Charles heard it anyway, nodding and giving him an awkward thumb up.

Max offered Charles and Lando a nod before storming out of the place, failing at looking nonchalant.

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

The morning after Max woke up with a pounding headache, despite not having had more than one drink the night before. His phone, not being turned off the night before, glared at him with all the notifications of missed calls and unanswered texts, most of them from Carlos and Charles. He was surprised to see a voicemail from Lando, not so much to find a check up text from Alex, but most of all, to his great shock, a text from George.

George(fucking asshole)Russell [00:40]

Hey

Lando explained what happened, after the concert

You good?

Uh. Well that was weird.

Max and George weren't on those kind of speaking terms. Truth be told, they weren't on speaking terms at all. Not after what had happened in March. Why bother now? Max couldn't lie that a part of him always wanted to reach out to him - at least to ask him why the fuck had he not stood up to defend him - but still scoffed and turned the phone off, smashing his head against his pillow and yelling in it. At least he didn't have school and could sleep in, he thought, a mere consolation after the last two weeks he he had gone through.

But five minutes later-

George(fucking asshole)Russell [12:50]

Max?

You there?

I saw you online

Okay, what the fuck? The last time George had texted him had been ages ago. Why did last night mattered so much to him?

George(fucking asshole)Russell [12:52]

Whatever

Forget it

Max groaned and threw his head back against the pillow, closing his eyes.

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

Max stepped into the school's building on Monday with no intention of speaking to anyone whatsoever.

He was still shaken up about what had happened the past Friday, the whole weekend had been hell. After Saturday morning he had gone completely no contact with everyone, wishing he could be able to stop existing. His father didn't pry much at why he had came back so much earlier than what he had previously told him, nor why for the rest of the weekend he refused to speak or see anyone but him.

So, when Carlos cornered him after second period, Max had to admit a part of him just wanted to tell him to fuck off and leave him alone. "Hey. Is everything good?" Carlos said as Max slammed the locker closed. "I tried to reach out, so did Lando-"

"I know." Max replied, starting to walk away without even glancing at Carlos. "I heard the voicemail. I don't really want to talk, alright?"

Carlos bit his lip and nodded, running to catch up with Max. "I know, I know. But we're just worried about you. Charles said you haven't texted him since Friday."

"He should get the hint then."

"Okay. But if you need to talk, we're here for you."

Max groaned and pulled his hood higher, ignoring Carlos and turning the corner without giving him an answer. "At least think about it!" He heard Carlos yell out once more, before he turned around probably to walk to his next class. So did Max, much to his dismay, headed towards the gym.

Max hated gym class. Not that he wasn't good at it, he was actually rather athletic and managed to pass with little to no issues. But (as mentioned before) he wasn't a sport guy. He didn't see a point to it, running in circles just to what, get a decent grade?

As he tied his shoes laces in the locker room he was already trying to come up with some excuse to skip on that day's training, but for once luck seemed to be on his side.

"Uh, Verstappen?" Someone - Oscar, he realized as he looked up at the sound of his name - called for him peeking inside the room. As soon as Oscar spotted him he let out a relieved sigh. "Principal Wolff wants to see you." Max nodded and immediately stood up, following Oscar away from the gym.

They walked in silence for a few moments, before Max decided to speak up - probably more out of awkwardness than real want of bonding.

"So, Oscar. How are the Silver Arrows treating you?"

Oscar blushed at Max's words and shrugged, looking down. "Nice enough. They're good pals, George and Alex. And Lando, well… is Lando. Very energetic."

"You were good, on Saturday. I was there."

"I know, I saw you." Oscar replied. "I saw you and..." He didn't finish the sentence, not that he needed to. But it was already embarrassing as it was, so Max was glad he had least had the decency to pretend nothing happened.

Or at least so he thought, because right before stepping inside the office Oscar stopped him, motioning for Max to keep walking. He followed him with a confused frown on his face, ending up in the music room.

In the middle of the room stood no one but Lando, wearing an apologetic smile like it was his best suit. Max immediately shook his head and murmured an absolutely not that most likely no one else heard, turning around to leave, but he was blocked by Oscar who whispered an apology before closing the door behind him, locking Max and Lando inside.

Max turned towards Lando again, glaring at him. "What the fuck, dude?"

"You said Janet broke up with you because of commitment."

Straight to the point then. He groaned and rolled his eyes before answering, crossing his arms. "No, I said we called it quit."

"Doesn't change the fact you told us she wanted to be casual when, from the stunt she pulled two days ago, it's clear you're the one who wanted so!"

Max had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. Why was Lando so pressed about this matter? It wasn't his relationship that Max had fucked up because he was too much of a coward to admit his feelings for Janet were strong, but not nearly as much as his feelings for-

Someone else.

Janet was a wonderful girl. Max cared about her and he was sure that, with time, he would have grown to find a way to love her. And Max was bisexual, it wasn't his first time being into a woman. It was just that, for as fantastic and amazing as Janet - or any girl he went out with - could be, she would have never been him.

May, third grade (ten years ago)

Charles kicked the ball towards Max with a bright, wide smile on his face. Max barely caught it, throwing himself on the ground to do so. He winced at the dirt on his clothes, standing up and scowling at Charles.

"Don't throw it like that!" He yelled, upset. "I can't catch it if you do."

Charles scoffed and rolled his eyes, stopping the ball with his foot as Max had it roll back towards him. "Don't worry, that's why we're practicing!"

Right, practicing. Which, by the way, Max had firmly been against. But they had twenty minutes to spare before their class started again and Charles had brought his brand new ball at school, his parents' birthday present. He had insisted he, Carlos and Max should have tried it that day, to which Max had repeatedly said no. He had only ended up giving in because Carlos had promised (on Charles' request) to let him play as Koopa the next time they would have played Mario Kart together.

But after five minutes of throwing himself on the grass to make sure Charles' ball didn't go flying around, Max was already regretting his decision. Dang it, why was he so easily bribable?

And then, as Max had predicted, when Charles threw the ball again it flew so high above Max's head the boy could only stare at it as it went over him and then aimed for the ground, several feet behind them. "Great." Max whispered annoyed, just as the ball hit the benches which - right to the boys' luck - had been freshly painted that morning and were still drying. The ball then changed direction and ended up against the shirt of a boy who was hanging near the bench, along with two other kids.

As soon as the ball hit him he let out a soft gasp, seemingly more out of shock than anything. The boy to his left, with curly hair and an odd-looking frog pendent around his neck way too big for his 8 years old body, barked a laugh, pointing at the targeted kid as he bent down from how amusing he found the situation. The third boy shook his head and turned in Max, Carlos and Charles' direction, where the ball had come from.

Said boys shared a look and immediately jogged towards the trio with apologetic frowns on their faces.

"Pardon," Charles began, "we were playing with my ball and I didn't measure my strength. Sorry."

Max nodded. "Yup. All his fault." His comment earned an elbow in the ribs by Charles but also a quiet chuckle from the targeted boy, who offered the ball back to Charles.

"It's okay, I had to wash this shirt anyway."

Frog-boy stopped laughing all of a sudden and let out a strangled cough. "Excuse me? Now you don't mind-" He was soon interrupted by the third boy, who kicked his leg to make him stop.

"Alex! What-"

"If George says it's okay then it's okay, Lando."

Carlos chuckled awkwardly as Charles gave Max a side eye, searching for help. Max cleared his throat and hid his hands in jacket's pockets. "I'm Max, this is Charles, and Carlos. Really sorry for your shirt." He repeated, to which George smiled.

"It's fine, really. I'm George, these are Alex and Lando." Frog-boy (Lando) waved energetically, while Alex barely raised his hand though offering Max, Carlos and Charles a wide smile.

Charles look down at his ball, then towards the trio again. "You guys wanna do a match? Three against three!"

Now, that's where Max drew the line.

"Count me out."

"No, thank you."

Max's voice overlapped with George's. Their eyes met for a moment and Max felt his cheeks grow warm. "Not because of you three, of course." Max felt necessary explain. "I just don't like to play."

"It's true, we had to bribe him into playing with us today." Carlos confirmed.

Lando and Alex shared a confused look. "What does bribe mean?"

"Ah, uhm, it's like… uh…" Carlos tapped his chin thinking about it, no words coming out of his mouth.

"Buying him to get him to do something he doesn't wanna do!" Charles explained proud. "My maman told me." Max, although he stayed quiet, frowned.

Alex furrowed his eyebrows, "how do you buy someone?"

"We told him he could play as Koopa at Mario Kart."

"Ah."

"But you didn't use money." Lando interjected. "How is that buying?"

None of the boys apparently had an answer, because they just looked at each other in confusion, thinking about what bribing could possibly actually mean.

"Sorry to correct," said Max, "but bribing means having someone do something for you, in favour of something else. So while it is what happened here with me, it doesn't always involve money."

They all stared at Max in awe who, under everyone's eyes, went red in the face and crossed his arms defensive. "What?"

"Who taught you that?"

"No one, I just like to read a lot."

George, probably sensing Max's discomfort in front of all the attention, cleared his throat. "So, me and Max are out. The four of you can still play, maybe we can be the referees?" He proposed, turning towards Max for the last part, who nodded.

Ten minutes later their friends were already playing, Alex and Charles against Lando and Carlos - to make things funnier, apparently. George and Max were leaning against the small wall where they had previously been standing against, shielded from the sun by a willow.

"Thanks for before." Max said without looking at George.

"What?"

"Uhm, the bribing thing? I don't really love being the center of the attention."

George patted him on the back, smiling. "Of course. It is very cool you know these complicated words though."

Max shrugged. "My mum always gets me books for my birthday. Which I like, so I don't mind. She says it helps my intellect and to learn english."

"Ah, I thought I heard an accent. Where are you from?"

"Netherlands. Well, I was born in Belgium, but my mum and my dad split up when I was very little. Then I moved in with my dad, who's dutch, and when I was five he came here for work. Now we live here."

George nodded. "Your mum was right about the books, your english is great for having lived here only three years." He complimented, to which Max blushed. Then George kept speaking, "I was born in England, both my parents are british, but we moved here when I was barely one. So I've lived here my whole life, really."

Max turned to look at the game. "Carlos and Charles are from Europe, too." He mentioned, trying to take the conversation off of him. "Carlos' parents are spanish, while Charles-"

"French!" George snapped his fingers at Max, looking proud like he had just solved a high school fourth year math problem.

Max chuckled, shaking his head. "Monegasque. Yes he speaks french, but he's not. Don't get it confused, he's really pressed on the matter."

George hummed. "I guess that's fair. I'd also be upset if someone called me Scottish." Max laughed and snorted, blushing when he realized he had. Though George only laughed with him, bumping their shoulders together.

"You're cool, Max…"

"Verstappen. So are you…"

"Russell.

"George Russell." He repeated, tasting the name in his mouth. "It is very british."

George laughed harder. "I'm taking that as a compliment."

Max, who was smiling so wide his cheeks hurt, nodded. "I still owe you one."

"For the bribing?"

"Yes."

"Don't even. I just, uhm, stood up for you. That's what friends do."

Friends.

George Russell was his friend.

"I'm sorry." Max finally said, letting himself fall against one of the chairs. "I didn't mean to lie, I just…" He didn't know what to say.

He felt his chest tightening, as if someone was squeezing his heart making it impossible for it to keep beating. Lando stared at him, shaking his head. He walked over Max, sitting next to him.

"Why did you break up with her?"

The answer came to Max instantly, as much as he wanted to push it away. He wasn't sure if he was ready to tell Lando the truth just yet so he shook his head, hiding his face between his hands. "I didn't want something serious."

"That much I figured," Lando sighed, "but why? In general, or with her?"

Max shrugged, unsure on how to phrase his feelings. "In general, I think."

"Okay. Why did you feel the need to lie about it?"

"I… I don't know."

Lando sighed louder and shook his head, "let's go back to when you broke up, then. Can you talk me through it?"

"Wow. Who gave you your license, Freud?"

"Dude, c'mon. I'm trying to help you. So, can you?"

Max raised his head slowly and nodded, bitterly recalling the event. He briefly did a summary of what had happened that evening, how they had started arguing and then Janet had called him her boyfriend. From the look on Lando's face, the little winces he made whenever Max would explain how he had responded, he could tell Lando was probably fighting against himself not to call his friend an enormous douche bag. Which Max appreciated, considering he probably deserved it.

It was odd, for Lando to be the self appointed therapist in that scenario. He was pretty sure none of this friends ever turned to him for love advices, both because he had never been in a relationship before and because Lando could be quite immature about it, sometimes. He was self aware of it, of course, which made him being the friend sent to confront Max even more weird. Hell, even Oscar would have made more sense.

When Max was done explaining Lando looked like he had to physically restrain himself from face palming himself, clearing his throat and staring at Max in disbelief. "No shit she was upset."

"Oh, c'mon mate-"

"She asked you if you wanted to officially date and you hummed, dude. Even I am not that bad."

"Fuck off." But it was merely a mumble, directed more to himself than to Lando.

Lando run his hand across his face, like to wash Max's stupidity off himself. "Well… it seems like we're heading towards my theory, at least."

"Theory?"

"Theory." Lando repeated. "The argument started because she wanted to spend time with you, but you wanted to see the Silver Arrows."

Max frowned, "that's not a theory, it's what happened."

"No, that's not my theory," Lando confirmed, "but did you hear what Janet called me after pushing me away?"

Max wanted to disappear on spot. "No." He foolishly lied.

"British weird looking guitar player." It baffled Max how Lando could remember the words so clearly, considering how drunk he had been. Yet here he was, spitting them back to him like daggers aimed at his chest.

Max took a deep breath in, trying to act like it didn't matter. "And?"

Lando let out a surprised scoff. "And? Max, she thought I was George."

"I don't understand why that's an issue."

Lando pinched the bridge of his nose. "Jesus, you're unbelievable. Follow my point of view here, alright? One: your ex-girlfriend shows up at the bar drunk and mad at you, yelling you break up with her because you didn't want a serious relationship. Two: she pushes me out of the way when I try to defend you, assuming I'm George. She also knows what George looks like, because you told her, which means she's also assuming you and George are close enough to hang out together and for him to step up for you.

"Without mentioning that she knows he's british and plays guitar. Even though, according to you, she has never been to one of our shows. So the only things Janet knows are what you told her and, from what I've gathered two days ago, she only knows George. Three: you attend our shows more often than I can count, I don't think you've ever missed one, yet never have a valid excuse to- and don't even try with the 'I like your music' story, because one thing is being a music fan, another is to neglect your girlfriend because of it."

Lando closed his eyes then took a deep breath in and out, catching his breath after the mini rant. "So," he concludes, "if you were me, what would you assume?"

George, George, George. The name looped in Max's brain, jumping around in his head like the old DVD logo when Max would stare at it for hours, waiting for it to reach the corner. He wanted to push it away, really did, but Max was only so much stronger and he wasn't sure he wanted to get rid of George anyway.

Still, Max tried to lie about it. "That I have a weird obsession for you guys?"

"For George, Max!" Lando yelled exasperated. "You have a fucking huge obsession for George!"

"I usually call it a crush." Both Max and Lando immediately turned towards the door, where Oscar was peeking inside. As if not expecting the reaction his eyes widened slightly. "Uhm, sorry. I didn't mean to eavesdrop. Lando asked me to warn you ten minutes before the bell rang."

Lando nodded. "Thanks, Oscar."

Oscar's grip on the handle tightened for a second, biting his lip thinking of his next words. "I just- can I say something?" Before Max could have said anything Lando nodded again, inviting Oscar in.

He grabbed a chair and sat next to Max, speaking to him directly. It put him oddly in discomfort to have not one but two people fussing over him and his now evident crush on George, didn't this people have hobbies outside annoying him?

"I've known you for way less than Lando has-"

Barely a day, Max thought, but didn't say anything.

"-but you're not really subtle about your crush for George."

That had Max snap his eyes up to meet Oscar's, surprised. "Excuse me?"

Lando rolled his eyes, leaning against his chair, but Max ignored him. Oscar cleared his throat and kept going. "We share calculus, remember? I sit two rows behind you, George sits one ahead of you. You are always staring at him, doodling whatever on your notebook as you do."

Max blushed, looking away. "What? I don't- I don't stare at him."

"Oh, you do." Lando chimed in. "Just because George looks away when he catches you in the audience at our concerts, doesn't mean I do."

Max turned towards Lando again, glaring at him. "Yet it still took you a girl to push you on the ground to figure out I liked the guy."

"I'm only connecting the dots now, alright? I need time!" Lando replied defensive.

"My point is," Oscar spoke up again, bringing the attention back on himself, "you've obviously liked him for a while now."

Max scoffed sadly. "If with a while you mean more or less since we met, then yes, I've liked George for a while now."

Lando's eyes widened, "you've had a crush on that guy for the past ten years?!"

"Kinda. Realized it earlier this year."

"Jesus Christ." Oscar couldn't help but say, but quickly apologized when Max glared at him. "Why not giving it a shot then?"

It was Lando who scoffed now, earning a confused frown from Oscar. "Max and George haven't spoken since last year. They had a big fight, cracked their whole relationship."

"Oh. What about?"

"Nothing important." Max commented before Lando could. Not that Lando knew anyway, unless George had told Alex who had consequently told Lando. Which, knowing him, he most likely had.

"It must be if a year later you're dating other girls to try and get over him."

"I'm not!" Max replied offended, but he was only met with Lando and Oscar's unimpressed looks. Before he could justify himself any further the bell rang, sounding to Max's ears like angels' trumpets.

"My cue to leave." He announced, standing up, followed by Lando and Oscar.

"Wait." Lando blocked him by grabbing his wrist before he could leave.

"The point of this," he said, gesturing between them, "was to help you realize your feelings. You don't need that, fine. But isn't it maybe a hint that you should solve things between you and George?"

Max wanted to say something back, he really did, yet no word left his mouth, leaving him to stand there helplessly.

"D-did you tell anyone?" He finally managed. Lando's gaze softened, releasing Max's wrist.

"No, of course not." Oscar shook his head as well, confirming Lando's words. Max nodded, looking down.

"I need to go now." He murmured before walking away, leaving Oscar and Lando in the music room to stare at him with worry.

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

Charles🏈 [Saturday, 00:50]

only saw your text now, call me tomorrow ok?

Charles🏈[Saturday, 08:00]

Max what happened yesterday was shitty

I'm not judging you for lying

Can you call me when you see this?

pls :(

Charles🏈[Saturday, 12:00]

Max

Heyyy

Charles🏈[Saturday, 12:45]

Max I swear I'm not upset

please answer

Charles🏈[Saturday, 12:55]

ONLINE THREE MINUTES AGO

MAX VERSTAPPEN ANSWER ME NOW

dick >:(

Charles🏈[Sunday, 10:33]

Max

you there?

istg I'm this close to calling your dad

Charles🏈[Sunday, 14:29]

I hope you're not mad at me btw

don't know why you would be

but hope you're not

if I've done something wrong i'm sorry

Charles🏈[Today, 15:00]

Carlos told me he saw you before third period

I know you don't wanna talk, but when you do, I'm here <3

Max [15:06]

jesus you're insistent

Charles🏈 [15:07]

MAX

hi

can you call?

Max [15:07]

i'm going to regret this but yes

Incoming call from Charles🏈

"Hello? Max?"

"That's the number you've dialed, yes." Max sighed, throwing himself in bed. His mother would definitely cringe and scowl him at the fact he was laying down on his clean duvet with his school clothing, but he had been through so much in the spawn of a few hours that Max couldn't bring himself to really care.

"How are you?"

Great question. How was Max? He had so many conflicting feelings that if he thought too much about it it gave him headaches. Charles had been one of his first friends when he first moved there, the thought of lying to him about his feelings for George made Max feel worse than he had planned.

But even now that Lando knew, Max couldn't bring himself to spill the truth. He didn't even know why. Fear of rejection? Of being faced with the obvious truth that he needed to man up and confess?

"I'm assuming you want to know why I lied to you." Max said, avoiding the question.

"No, actually." Was Charles' response. "I just want to make sure my friend is alright."

Goddamn it. Why did he have to be so nice? It made lying to him much harder than it already was. Max let out a low groan and shifted in bed, head resting comfortably on his pillow.

"Yeah, uhm… I'm… alive?"

"That's already something."

"I'm sorry for ignoring you." Max offered, figuring out an apology was owned. Charles hummed but didn't reply, holding Max on line in silence for a few seconds.

"Do you wanna go out? Take your mind off things for a bit." Charles finally said.

Max sighed,"where?"

"Anywhere you want. Football match? Basketball match?"

Max had to bit back a groan. "How about the bowling near the mall?"

"Bowling?"

"For the arcade." Max specified, which earned a laugh from Charles.

"Of course. Arcade it is. Can I invite the others? I'll make sure to tell them not to mention Friday."

"Define others."

Charles didn't reply immediately. Max heard some shuffling on the other side, as if Charles was walking around his room. "Just Carlos." He said finally. "Well, Carlos wanted to invite Alex, too. Can he?"

Max furrowed his eyebrows confused. "Alex? Why Alex?"

"They're working on that history project together, they've been hanging out more. I told you, remember?"

Max did, vaguely. Either way, he didn't think Alex would have been too much of an issue to hang out with, so he agreed.

"Cool then! I'll see you there in, say, one hour?"

Max checked his watch and nodded. "Yeah."

"Sounds like a plan. See you there!"

Max hung up the phone and stared at the screen for probably five minutes before finally putting it away, hiding his face in his pillow. This would be good, he kept telling himself. Turning his brain off for a few hours, hanging out with his friends. Just having a good time. It was good.

"It's good. I'm good."

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

Max was not good.

He could literally feel George's eyes in the back of his skull as he ignored him, pretending his presence didn't bother him in the slightest. In a way he wasn't entirely lying, considering most of Max's brain was too busy planning Charles' murder to think about George.

"What are they doing here?" He had asked when he noticed Lando, George, Oscar and Zhou in front of the bowling's entrance, waiting with Carlos and Alex. Max had tried not to sound too annoyed, really, but from Charles' glare he had most likely failed.

"Carlos invited Alex, Alex invited Lando, George, Zhou and Oscar."

"Oh my god."

"Hey! I told you, I promise none of them will mention Friday."

And to be fair, they hadn't. Yet it didn't do anything to ease Max's nerves, not in George's presence. This was the closest they had been to each other - without including class - in eight months, eight months of not exchanging a single word with the other.

The thing that probably bothered Max the most though was the way his heart seemed to be doing back flips whenever they'd accidentally make eye contact, forcing him to look away not to show how red in the face he'd get.

Get a grip. You always manage in class- this is no different. Get. A. Grip!

Max was currently being challenged by Zhou on one of those motorbike races video games, hanging on the handlebar tightly and bending to the sides with precision as if he'd actually been riding a bike.

George and Oscar stood behind them, Oscar cheering Zhou on while George simply stared in silence, arms crossed as he licked his lips. From the reflection on the machine Max could see George was leaning against one of the columns, wearing the same adorable focused frown he had whenever he'd think too much about something.

Max shook his head, focusing on the race ahead of him, where he was currently first place with Zhou overtaking some bot to gain a few positions. Two laps later it was over, ending with Max first place and Zhou third. Max stood up and high fived him while Oscar put an arm around him, messing with his hair.

"You did great mate." Oscar told him, to which Zhou smiled lightly.

"Considering it was my first time on one of these… Definitely wasn't Max's."

Max chuckled, looking down. "What can I say, I'm fueled on competitiveness."

George flickered his tongue and scoffed, rolling his eyes. He pushed himself off the column and walked over to Alex and Lando, who were having an animated discussion on wether it was worth to spend a penny over the 'catch your prize!' machine or not.

Max followed him with his eyes, gulping. God, did he have to look so handsome even while walking away? It was just unfair, really.

Max had tried to get over him multiple times, more than he could count. But every time he closed his eyes to lean in and kiss whatever girl he had been on a date with, the only thing that appeared in his mind was George. His blue eyes, his always perfectly styled soft curls, his sharp jaw, strong neck, his manicured hands. George took such well care of himself sometimes Max was jealous and wished he had the will to do the same.

As George joined Lando and Alex's conversation, breaking into laughter for whatever they had said, the awful feeling that always settled in Max when he'd see him with his friends presented itself.

Max missed George, so much.

He missed the jokes, he missed hearing George's voice - at least in a context where he was talking to Max, specifically.

Max's finger had lingered so many times over his number over the months, opened his chat more time than he could count. But it shouldn't have been him. George had been the one to screw up, not Max. Why hadn't George never reached out? He was clearly fine without Max in his life, so why shouldn't he?

And then, right when Max's afternoon couldn't get worse, Charles offered a bowling match.

"We should do teams!" Alex proposed.

"I'm with Charles!" Carlos said immediately, which led Max to silently scan the group.

If Charles wasn't an option, then maybe he could go with Lando? Or maybe Alex would have been a better choice, considering how Lando had been trying to flirt with Oscar all afternoon. Alternatively… Zhou, maybe?

"Me and Oscar will be together. I suck, he's great. We'll even each other out." Lando declared, putting his arm around Oscar and pulling him closer, either ignoring or completely unaware of Oscar's awkward and odd glances at him.

"I'll team up with Zhou then." Alex said. "Band's gotta stick together, right?"

Ah, right. So Charles and Carlos, Lando and Oscar, Alex and Zhou… Max's eyes widened as the realization dawned on him like the holy spirit. Except this time it had clearly been sent by Satan to fuck with him, there was no other rational explanation.

Max expected George to speak up, to say something against it. Instead he stayed silent, shrugging and sighing.

Alex smiled brightly and asked for everyone's shoes sizes, walking over to the attendant to sign them in.

Headed to their assigned isle Max stole a few glances at George, who seemed keen on ignoring him. It pissed him off, truly, how George kept acting like he was the victim, as if Max had been the one to betray him.

George had always been rather popular in school. Not in a movie-ish kind of way, strutting around the hallways like he owned them followed around by Alex and Lando. George was popular in a way that felt almost natural, like the title belonged to him. A social butterfly, as Lewis (one of the past senior students) had once addressed him. It wasn't hard for him to be kind, to make friends with anyone.

Max wasn't like that. Not that he cared, he was fine with the few friends he had. He didn't need more, drawing as much attention on himself as George did would only bother him.

George had tried to help him out a couple of times, telling him he could try and join a few extracurricular clubs, or giving him advices on how to dress more stylish. Max has categorically refused both options, insisting he was fine as he was, more often than not annoyed by George's indirect assumptions that something was wrong with him.

Seeing how George avoided him now, Max wished he could annoy him again.

March, Junior Year (eight months ago)

Max wasn't stupid by any means.

He hated school as a concept, groaned at every assignment or test, was the first one out of the class once the bell rang and the first one out of the building once the day was over. He didn't like studying, but who does? That didn't mean that Max had ever allowed himself to fail any class he had ever attended. His father would have probably sent him to military camp if he had, anyway. He only studied the bare minimum to pass, which in most cases meant being rewarded being Cs and Bs. Max knew he would have been able to score the highest grade if he tried, he just couldn't be bothered to.

So when he managed to get an A+ on the human anatomy test in Biology class it didn't come as a surprise to him. Max had only put on more effort than usual because of an ongoing bet he had with Lando, who kept making fun of him saying he was unable to score more than a C. Which was rich coming from Lando, who could barely do two plus two. Yet Lando's words had stroke his ego, as many things do, which had led Max to being handed his paper back, decorated with a bright red A+ on top of it and a scowl on his professor's face.

Max had no idea why Professor Zak Brown disliked him, but for as long as he could remember he had done nothing but making Max's school life a living hell. Giving him the hardest assignments, accidentally misplacing his papers and making Max re-do them, always asking him questions during class which - at least half of the times - Max didn't have the answer to. The highest grade he had achieved in Biology had been a C+, which was probably why Brown kept glaring at him from his desk.

The opposite of Max was George who, of course, had never gotten less than A. Max peeked on George's paper, his desk right next to Max's, and let out a low whistle. Another A+.

"Look at that," he whispered, holding his paper up with a smile, "twins!"

George turned towards Max, matching his smile. He tilted his head in genuine surprise when he saw the grade. "Woah. Since when do you actually put effort in school work?"

Max shrugged. "Since Lando assumed I couldn't."

George hummed still looking confused. "That checks out I guess."

Brown dismissed the class twenty minutes later. Max was already halfway through the door, savouring the taste of freedom as the last class of the day was over, when the professor stopped him, asking him to stay behind because he had to check something. Whatever that meant.

Max did as told, going back to his seat, furrowing his eyebrows when he saw George was asked the same as well. Only when every student had left the room did Brown speak up, moving in front of the desk and leaned on it.

"Verstappen." He began, staring at Max like he was accusing him of murder. "Do you have something you'd like to share with us?"

Max glanced at George confused, but his friend shrugged, seemingly as lost as he was. "No?"

"No." Brown repeated. "Maybe something about how you managed to score an A+?"

Max's frown deepened. "By studying?"

"You're one of my worst students, Verstappen." Harsh. "Then, out of nowhere, you get the highest grade. How does that happen?"

Max shrugged, unsure on where that was going. "How does that happen, Russell?" Brown asked again, turning towards George.

George was looking down, frowning and nervously picking at his nails. "I don't know." He mumbled.

Brown flicked his tongue and shook his head. "Cheating. You get that grade by cheating."

The accusation offended Max more than he'd care to admit. "What?! I didn't cheat!"

"It's the only reasonable explanation."

"Or maybe I just fucking studied."

"Language, Verstappen. And I highly doubt so, considering your record. Besides, I seem to recall you were the last one to hand in the test, right?"

"And?"

"And, everyone else had left the room already. I was busy reviewing other class's exams, you had all the time to cheat, if you wanted to."

He didn't know if Brown was enraging him on purpose or if he truly believed the bullshits coming out of his mouth, but Max could feel the limits of his patience being pushed to the edge, the growing need to yell at Brown's face to fuck off and leave the room - maybe even flipping him off, for good measure.

Still he kept his cool, as best as he could, gulping down any insult he had ready on his tongue for the professor. "I wasn't alone though." Max corrected. "Me and George handed the paper in together."

And it was true, George had finished his own test only a few minutes before Max had. Surely he would have covered for him, proving Browns accusation was insanity.

"True, true." Brown conceded. "That's why he's here, after all. Russell, did you help Max cheat for his test?"

George's eyes snapped up, looking personally offended. "What? No!"

"Did you see him peek over your paper?"

"No. I mean, if he did, I didn't notice."

Max swore he heard the moment his heart broke. He had to physically restrain himself from jumping on George and hitting him because- what the fuck did he mean, if he did? Didn't he believe Max? Did George think Max had cheated?

Brown nodded, a sly, annoying smirk growing on his lips. "So you're not excluding the option that Verstappen did in fact cheat."

George bit his lip and shook his head, a shadow of embarassment falling on his face. Max wanted to slap him until it turned red.

"Did you see him not cheat?"

"This is absurd." Max tried to protest, but Brown raised his hand to interrupt him and allow George to answer.

"No."

"Do you think he could have?"

"He had the time to, I guess."

"Clearly so, considering he put all the same answers as you."

"Because those were the right fucking answers!" Max finally snapped, standing up from his seat. "I didn't cheat, I just opened a fucking book!"

"Sit down, Verstappen! I'm already invalidating your test, do you want to add a suspension to that?"

Max wanted to yell something back but the words died on his lips, knowing it would have only brought him more issues he could not afford. Then, as if fully letting the words sink in, "you're invalidating my exam?"

"If Russell - as the only witness able to - can't prove you didn't cheat, I'll have no other option but to, yes."

Max immediately turned towards George, silently begging him to back him up.

But every hope died in him when he noticed George's eyes were stuck on his desk again, fingers fidgeting on his lap as he couldn't bare to look at him. "I didn't see anything."

"George…"

"That's it then." Brown said resolute, taking Max's paper and ripping it in front of his eyes.

The next few minutes were a blur for Max. Picking up his bag from the floor, leaving the room with shame written all over his face - even if, quite frankly, he had done nothing to be ashamed for - and waiting for George in the hallway to ask him why the fuck had he not stood up for him.

"What the fuck Russell?" George barely stopped a moment to give Max an odd look before starting to walk away, but Max followed him outside the building, stopping him and grabbing him by the wrist.

"Hey, I'm talking to you!"

"What, Max?" George turned around annoyed, yanking his wrist free and putting his hands on his hips like an upset mother.

"Why didn't you help me?"

"Help you? By doing what, lying? I'm sorry Brown's a dick to you, but I'm not putting my academic career at risk for your own sake."

Max felt the sudden urge to hit George back in his fists. Not his heart though. No, his heart felt… weird, like George had personally stabbed him, leaving him on the floor to bleed out. Why the fuck was he being such a douche bag?

Max scoffed, flipping him off. "Fuck you. Do you think I actually cheated?"

George didn't respond, sighing and running a hand through his hair, looking everywhere but at Max.

Max nodded, biting back- he didn't even know what he was biting back. Tears? An insult? A punch? "So you do, then. I thought you'd have a little more faith in me than this."

"Max, it's not faith. It's just facts. Lando dared you to get the highest grade and you might have found an easy way to get it."

"And you don't even let yourself have the doubt that maybe I didn't fucking do it?"

"I don't know what you did! It's why I didn't lie in there!"

"There it is again!" Max yelled, his face growing red from anger, pointing his index at George. "That word- lie. Lying about me not cheating. You think I did it."

"No," George corrected, lowering his voice to calm down, "lying about seeing something." And then he started to walk away, ignoring Max's words.

"I thought you were my friend, George. You're just an entitled asshole! Caring about no one but yourself- oh, look at me, someone I've known since we were eight is being accused of cheating on a test but, hey, why would I help him? I'll just be a fucking dick about it and let him fail!

"Charles would have helped me, you know?" Max kept going, feeling the anger running through his veins like it was the muscle pumping the blood around his body. "Even if he hadn't been sure about it, Charles would have been a real friend and backed me up. He would have-"

"Go cry about it to Charles, then!" George snapped and turned around, stomping his feet. Max almost fell back, not expecting the outburst. "Go, call your best friend of all times and whine about how I'm such an awful person for staying true to myself, and leave me the fuck alone!"

George's cheeks were strained with tears, eyes red as he sniffled. Max opened his mouth to say something but immediately closed it, gulping down. George kept staring at Max like he was trying to read him, looking for forgivness he wasn't going to find.

"Fuck off." Were George's last words before he walked away for good, leaving Max to stand there alone, too overwhelmed to properly feel anything.

Note to self, George sucked at bowling.

So did Lando for the matter, but as Alex kept reminding him every time he sent the ball into the empty rows, "you know what they say, you're either good at bowling or in bed."

Max refused to think about the implications of that sentence associated with George's lack of bowling skills - it would have been quite uncomfortable and embarrassing to play with a hard-on - and instead picked up the ball to play his turn, managing to put down three pins.

"Woo!" Charles cheered, clapping. Carlos playfully hit him on the shoulder.

"Need I remind you he's playing against us?"

"Carlos this is like, what, their second time scoring points? Let them have a personal win, we've been playing for half an hour now."

True. He and George were so bad at the game even Lando and Oscar were higher than them on the board, though turned out that Oscar was truly amazing at it, scoring almost every point for both him and Lando.

George was sitting on the seats behind them, ignoring Charles' comments. It was now Zhou's turn, who was already getting in position, so Max moved away leaving him room to aim, sitting down next to George.

The closeness to George made him feel hot all over his body, hoping the sweat under his armpits could be excused with the physical activity they were having and the insanely high heating system in the building. Max started munching on some fries Alex had ordered earlier to fight off the awkwardness.

Should he say something? Probably, but it would have been stupid. "Hey George, sorry I ignored you for the past eight months, wanna make small talk like nothing happened so we're buddies like before? Also I'm desperately in love with you, so it'd be cool if we could also kiss and stuff."

They were on the same team yet had gone half an hour without saying anything to each other. It had to be some sort of record, honestly.

"You didn't answer my texts."

Max almost chocked on his fries at George's voice, feeling spooked like Kat when Casper speaks to her for the first time. He stared at George who was avoiding his eyes, focusing on his friends playing instead.

Max cleared his throat. "Ah, so he speaks."

George snorted. "You're one to talk. Or not, I guess."

Max couldn't help but break into a smile at the joke, reeling at the sound of amusement in George's tone.

"I thought you had blocked me, honestly." Max then said, acknowledging George's comment.

"I had. I just un-blocked you to check on you." The last part came out as a whisper. George sighed and rested his head on his hands, closing his eyes.

"Did you block me again?"

"That's what you want to know? Really?"

Max shrugged and looked away, leaning against his seat. He heard George shift beside him and Max did his best not to turn to look at him, not to make a fool out of himself. Him and George were speaking again, for the first time in eight months. Max didn't know why George had suddenly grew the guts to try and talk to him, but hearing his voice again was like hearing a lost melody, one Max was convinced he would have never had the privilege to witness again.

George wasn't the vocalist, he never sang at their concerts. In class he barely spoke, unless asked to. Even after all that had happened all Max could think about was how beautiful George's voice was, and wondering how on earth had he gone so long without hearing it. He couldn't trust himself to meet his eyes, not like that.

"I'm sorry about Janet. She seemed… sweet."

"I guess." Max mumbled. He had waited so long to hear those words come out of George's lips - I'm sorry - and now he finally had, they had been pronounced for the wrong reasons. Part of him wanted to give in, pretend it could have had the same effect. Isolating the first part of the sentence and leave everything else outside. Leaving Janet outside, keeping George in.

George.

Like addicted to a drug Max needed to hear George speak again, even if it led to inevitable overdose. "Nice nail polish."

"Uh?"

"Your nails. They're cool."

George looked down and stared at his black nails, letting out a soft chuckle. "Zhou recommendation. He said it would go with my looks. He also seemed rather relived someone was finally accepting his help style-wise."

When Max pulled a confused frown George nodded towards Oscar. "Fashion disaster." Max giggled remembering the way Oscar would show up at school and had to admit that, from George's point of view, Oscar's idea of style was… something.

He turned towards George to comment on it but froze when he found George already looking at him.

Was he blinking in slow motion? Or was Max on some sever high drugs?

"Reminds me of someone." George whispered, eyeing Max from head to toe.

Max's cheeks flushed immediately, turning around not being able to hold George's gaze. Only then did he notice the group's eyes on them, jaws dropped as they stared at the duo. Max sat up more straight, trying to act natural.

"What?"

"Nothing." Alex murmured, looking at them like they had grown two heads each. "It's uh, George's turn."

George sighed and stood up, taking the ball Alex was holding for him and then patting his friend's back.

Max's eyes followed his movements, trying to ignore the way his friends were staring at him. He sighed and shifted in his seat, crossing his legs and pretending the way George bent over to throw the ball wasn't affecting him in the slightest. One pin miraculously went down, earning a low whistle from Lando who high fived him.

"Nice." Max tried to comment, though his voice came out weak, unsure if George had even heard him. They exchanged looks for a second before George cleared his throat and moved out of the way, motioning for Max to play. But instead of going back to his seat George walked over to Alex, leaning in to whisper something in his ear which had his friend widen his eyes in surprise. George shrugged, stealing a quick glance at Max before turning around and excusing himself, saying he needed to use the restroom.

Max ignored it, unsure on what to make out of George's behaviour. What was he trying to do? Rebuild the burnt bridges, from what it looked like, but he was yet to apologize to Max. He was just taking it slow, Max figured, he would have probably done the same if he had the guts to.

Once he had played his turn - failing to score another point - Max headed towards the bar, claiming to be thirsty.

"You don't wanna play anymore?" Asked Lando, pouting. Max shrugged.

"Just keep going without me, I'll be over there."

He just needed a moment to himself, really, to think.

He bought himself a redbull and sat down, nervously tapping his fingers against the side of the can. Did Max want George back in his life? The obvious answer would have been yes. And it was, technically. He had spoken with him for merely a few minutes and that had been enough to remind Max exactly on why he missed George so much and how he wanted to be friends with him again.

Well, more than that. But it was already complicated enough without romantic feelings involved in the situation, Max needed to put those aside for now. Somehow.

"You've given up on us already? C'mon, I say we can still beat Landoscar, there." George approached Max with a sympathetic smile on his face, pointing at the group who seemed to be doing perfectly fine without two players.

"Landoscar?"

George nodded. "You heard that right. Alex came up with it to make fun of Lando's crush for the poor Aussie."

Max lips curved into a smirk, taking a sip of his drink. "I knew he was down bad."

"Yeah, hard to miss." George sighed and put his hands on his hips, observing their friends as Carlos achieved yet another strike, much to Charles' joy and Zhou's dismay. "Since you're here all alone, can I at least keep you company?"

Max shrugged and nodded, as if the question hadn't sped up his heartbeat almost causing him to have tachycardia. But it was fine, of course it was, as George sat down in front of him in silence. None of them spoke at first, pretending to be too busy watching their friends play. They let out a few chuckles whenever Lando would rage at missing a pin, or at Charles cheering every time Carlos hit them.

If Max closed his eyes he could almost picture it, falling in the fantasy that everything was normal like it once had been. Before the fights and the drama, back when talking to George didn't feel like a challenge but like something natural, as if Max was born to do that only.

He wasn't sure how normal it was for anyone to feel like that, really, but George had always had that effect on Max without even trying. His presence was enough to send the dutch man into a crisis, making his head spiral as a storm of conflicting feelings attacked him.

"Max?" George was looking at him like he was trying to read his soul, like he was reading a book in a different language. "Can I ask you… You seemed to really like Janet. Why did you break up?"

He had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. Max swore if one more person asked him why him and Janet didn't work out he was going to actually commit murder. Why did they all care so much about it anyway? Part of him was tempted to let them believe he was just an asshole and that Janet had finally realized it. Which honestly, wasn't even that far from the truth.

"I wasn't looking for a serious relationship. She was. End of the story."

George grimaced. "Really?"

"Yes."

"It's just weird, because you seemed really into her."

"Turns out I wasn't."

"But I thought-"

"Stop thinking then. It's none of your business, so fuck off." Max snapped, his tone leaving no room for argument. He looked away from George, who was frowning at him, finding a sudden interest in his shoes. He tapped his foot nervously, as a distraction, finding odd comfort in the clicking sound the hard heel produced against the wooden floor. His mind drifted to the shoes he had showed up with, which were currently thrown somewhere near the seats, along with the rest of the group's.

Worn out black vans, the same pair he had been using for the past three years. George's shoes were the complete opposite. They looked polished and refined, worth of Buckingham Palace. He probably had a different pair for every day of the week. Max didn't know what the fact that he remembered what shoes George was wearing said about himself, especially when he could barely recall what colours Charles' hoodie was.

He hadn't realized George had gone quiet like Max had asked, a nice shift in their relationship considering George had a reputation of always having the last word. It should have made him feel better than it did at the moment, George backing out from an argument leaving a sour taste in his mouth- it just wasn't right.

A loud ring snapped him awake, driving his attention to George worriedly checking his phone. "I need to make a phone call." He pronounced before standing up and walking over the seats to recollect his shoes, exchanging a few words with Alex who furrowed his eyebrows confused but gave him a thumb up, before George headed towards the exit without sparing Max a glance.

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ • One day later •⊹₊ ⋆୨ৎ

George Russell [21:00]

Idk why I care that you know

But I left because I had a family emergency

Max [21:03]

is everything good?

George Russell [21:03]

Yeah, Cara's car broke down so she needed mine

Max [21:04]

cool

George Russell [21:05]

Yeah, god forbid you think I left because of you

I'm bigger than that

Max [21:05]

never assumed the opposite

George Russell [21:06]

You definitely did, but I'll let that slide.

Max [21:11]

it was fun talking to you yesterday

George Russell [21:11]

Before you told me to fuck off?

Max [21:13]

nevermind.

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ • Three days later •⊹₊ ⋆୨ৎ

George Russell [16:00]

Sorry to bother do you have today's assignments??

I miss one class and hell comes down

Max [16:02]

yup

[poorly taken photos of max's notebook]

George Russell [16:03]

dude

Max [16:03]

?

George Russell [16:04]

What is that handwriting

Did you learn Russian cursive and didn't tell me?

Max [16:04]

a lot happens in eight months

George [16:07]

Can you teach me then?

I'd love to learn such fine art

Max [16:08]

show up at school and I'll do my best

George [16:08]

I have the flu, dick

Max [16:09]

skill issue or whatever the kids say these days

George Russel [16:10]

🖕

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ • One week later •⊹₊ ⋆୨ৎ

George Russell [18:05]

Oscar said he saw you taking notes

Miraculously

Could you send them?

I did not get today's topic at all

Max [18:05]

hmm

idk

I'm starting to think you should pay me

George Russell [18:07]

I actually think you should pay my eye doctor bills

Reading your stuff is impossible

Max [18:07]

won't send shit then

George Russell [18:08]

No wait

I can't fail this class please

Please come back

Pleaseeeee

Maxie

c'mon

I'll pay if I have to

Max [18:13]

only cause you ask so nicely

you're lucky i have a big heart

George Russell [18:13]

My saviour

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ • Three weeks later •⊹₊ ⋆୨ৎ

Max [16:05]

George hey

do you have Wolff's email?

friend of mine needs it

George [17:09]

Sorry we were band rehearsing

Do you still need it?

Max [17:11]

yup

George [17:11]

wolff.toto72@/schoolmail.com

Max [17:12]

nice thank you

George [17:12]

No problem

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

November, Senior Year

"Did you see the big news?" Max had to bit back a groan as Charles sat down in front of him, interrupting his lunch break.

"No." Max replied cold, hoping not showing interest in whatever Charles had to tell him would have drop the conversation.

Obviously, he was wrong.

"The Silver Arrows have been asked to play at the Snow Ball."

"Cool."

"Right? Lando won't stop talking about it, saying they're thinking of performing a new song- entirely written by George! How cool is that?"

At the mention of George's name Max froze for a moment, letting Charles' words sink in, before he went back to munching on his tuna fish sandwich, savouring it like it was his last meal on earth. He merely graced Charles of a hum in response to his phrase, unsure on how to react. Or, how Max was supposed to react.

Realistically Max wanted to smile, brightly. To call George up, to text him, congrats mate! That's huge! But he couldn't allow himself that right now, what if he had misread his interactions with George? They had been civil lately, didn't mean they were friends again. They hadn't spoken to each other since the bowling incident. They had exchanged various texts a few times for school stuff, sure, but was it enough?

Max gulped down the food and cleared his throat, looking elsewhere.

Charles seemed to catch his discomfort. "So have you guys spoke? Since we went bowling?"

"On and off." As if it was a casual relationship, 'sex with no feelings' kinda thing.

"As in?"

"As in I haven't talked to him since then. But at least he texts me now."

"That's good, non?"

"Once a week to ask for homework. Or if he doesn't understand something in class."

"That's not nothing."

"I guess."

They spent the rest of the lunch break in silence, Max biting down on his sandwich while Charles stared at him with a pitiful look.

"Do you wanna come at mines to play games?" He suddenly spoke up, as if he had had enough of Max's self commiseration.

And that was how him and Charles had spent the rest of the afternoon. Max liked hanging out at Charles' place, it was quiet enough he could relax, but not too much to make him feel alone in the world.

It had always felt easy to talk to Charles. He had been Max's first friend when he arrived in the States, back when Max used to feel like he had no one but his dad. Charles knew him better than most of his friends did, read into him immediately. Which was probably why he kept asking about George, even if subtly so. Why he kept asking how Max was doing, if he was seeing anyone.

Max didn't miss the worried looks he got from his friend from time to time while they played - some game called It Takes Two in which Charles thought it was so funny to keep making him fall instead of moving on - and Max didn't entirely mind, if it wasn't for the fact it had been what he'd been trying to avoid for the past month.

He threw his head back against the couch, crossing his legs. Charles glanced at him, "are you sure you're comfortable on the floor? The couch is big enough for the two of us."

Max nodded, focusing on the screen in front of him.

"Okay, but-"

Ping!

Max's phone screen lit up, catching his attention. George's text notification glared at him, making the Dutchman freeze on spot. Max's lack of focus on the game didn't go unnoticed by Charles, who paused it and leaned in to peak over Max's phone. "Who is it?"

"No one." Max replied immediately, snatching the phone away from Charles' sight and standing up. "I need to use the bathroom, I'll be right back."

Charles tried to protest and ask for more explanation but Max was already walking away headed towards the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He took a deep breath in and finally opened the chat, searching for some sort of bravery he didn't have to help him face whatever George had in store for him. It was always like this, whenever George texted him. Overthinking every question, response, joke.

George [16:50]

Are you busy?

Max [16:52]

depends

if you need notes i'm not currently home

George [16:52]

No it's not that

My car kind of. died

Max [16:53]

ok?

died as in exploded or ran out of gas?

George [16:54]

The latter

Why on earth would my car explode.

Max [16:54]

idk?

George [16:54]

The point is I need someone to drive me at school

My parents are both out and I told you Cara's car broke down

Max [16:56]

Benji?

George [16:56]

The same Benji who lives in the UK?

Max [16:56]

ah. right

so you need me to…?

George [16:57]

To drive me at school, Max.

Please

Like if you're busy it's all good ofc

Well.

A thousand questions run through Max's mind at once. Why did George need to be at school after class? Why didn't he ask Alex, or Lando, or Zhou, or even Oscar? Why had he come to Max?

A smile grew on his lips almost automatically at the thought that, out of all his friends, George had put his trust in Max. He couldn't let him down in the moment of need, could he?

He texted George he would have been at his house in ten minutes, just the time to get ready. And come up with an excuse to bail on Charles too, though he didn't tell George that. George replied with a thanks and a smiley face, making Max smile wider. He got out of the bathroom to find Charles still on the couch, arms crossed and glaring at him with a judgemental frown on his face.

Max cleared his throat and pointed at the door. "Uhm, I need to give a friend's of mine a ride. Sorry."

"Friend? I thought you and George were on and off."

"Who said anything about George?"

"I saw the name on the notification, Max."

Damn it. He should have listened to his sister when she recommended him that privacy protector screen for his phone.

"Okay, yes, it's George. He needs to be at school and-"

"Look, you don't need to find excuses with me, mon ami." Charles interrupted him, waving his hands in front of him to stop the justifications Max was about to vomit at him. "You know I love you and support you. But after Janet…"

Max felt a sudden rush of anger run through him. He hadn't seen nor heard mention of Janet in almost a month. He restrained himself from snapping at Charles, the rational part of him knowing he was just trying to protect Max.

"What about her?"

"I'm all in for it if you're finally making up with George. But think about it before throwing yourself in a relationship, okay? I know how impulsive you can be in these things."

Max's cheeks grew red and his eyes widened, instinctively searching for the nearest exit to bolt out of that conversation. Charles lived on the first floor, he could easily jump out of the window. "I don't- what? Relationship? Please."

Charles rolled his eyes - so much Max actually considered getting offended - and leaned against the couch's back. "What's George's middle name?"

"William." Max replied without thinking, unsure about the point Charles was trying to make.

"What's mine?"

"Dude, you have like five."

"Just three, actually."

"I don't- Charles, this is stupid. Do you know mine?"

"Emilian."

And to that, Max didn't know what to say. Of course he knew George's second name, he had told him back in Sophomore year for a joint Family Tree project they had worked on for school. Charles had told him as well, the first time they met, claiming it was very aristocratic. Charles didn't know the meaning of the word, at the time, but he had told Max it sounded fancy. In response Max had told him his and apparently Charles still remembered it.

The blush on his face turned a darker shade of red as embarassment fell on him like a shadow. "Did Lando tell you?"

Charles snorted. "What, that you're down bad for Russell? Mate, do you think I'm blind? I've known since we were like fifteen."

Considering Max had realized it at seventeen, it probably spoke a lot about the kind of person he was.

"Sorry." Max murmured, not even sure about what he was apologizing for. Being a terrible friend? Lying about his crush for George? "It's… it's complicated."

Charles offered him a warm smile, standing up and walked up to him. "I figured. But I'm here for you, you know that, right? I mean, what else are best friends for if not helping you out while judging your taste in men?"

Max rolled his eyes playfully and gently shoved Charles away. "Dick."

"Now go, Romeo. Your princess is waiting for you and your magic chariot!"

"Technically, Juliet wasn't a princess."

"Max."

"Okay, sorry."

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

George was waiting for him sitting on his doorstep, resting his head on his knees. The moment he spotted Max's car approaching he stood up with a sigh, walking up to the car as Max pulled to the side of the road and lowered the window.

"You ordered a cab, sir?" Max asked, trying to mock an english accent.

George pulled his sunglasses over his head and rolled his eyes, getting inside the car. "Your british is just as terrible as last time I heard it."

"Ouch. I apologize, I skipped a few lessons."

"Not my fault for that."

It was, technically, but Max knew better than to point that out. He left George's house without adding anything, headed to school. He wasn't sure when exactly did he and George got such familiarity that they could joke about their fight, although if the scowl George was wearing at the moment was any hint of it, maybe they weren't yet.

But could anyone blame Max for not understanding what, exactly, they were? A few school texts here and there, barely enough to make small talk. In class they didn't speak, didn't hang out in the hallways. Oscar glanced at them awkwardly from time to time, a quiet reminder that he knew, but never spoke to Max about it again after what had happened in the music room.

Lando hadn't either, surprisingly. Oscar had probably scowled him about it, but he did keep receiving an insane amount of "are you coming to the concert tonight?" and "I'm here for you btw." texts from Lando. His way of saying I support you and I'm here for you.

Max hated it.

It made him feel like some sort of lost cause everyone had to look after, an endangered specifies his friends fussed on to protect from extinction. He glanced at George, who was scrolling on his phone. All the affection Max was receiving made him think. How were they treating George? Charles he could understand, but it was quite insane Lando was on Max's side considering he was George's best friend. He must have had Alex's support, obviously. And Zhou's, maybe? Lando probably had pity on Max for the unrequited crush.

Max mentally counted. So it was him with Lando, Charles and Oscar, maybe? While George had Zhou and Alex. Three against two. He almost laughed out loud at the absurdity he was thinking about, because what the fuck was that about, really? George was clearly fine, had been since their fight. Max had seen him at the concerts, in the hallways at school. Always parading around with confidence like he owned the place, never once resulting as too egocentric - much to Max's annoyance. It would have given him a new valid reason to hate him, at least.

George brought him back to the present with a loud groan before his brain could spiral any further, having Max turn to him momentarily before focusing on the road again.

"Stop thinking so loud. It's hurting my head."

Max, despite himself, chuckled. "I'm thinking and your head hurts?"

"Yes."

"How do you even know I was thinking so much?"

"You always do that thing."

"Thing?"

George sighed annoyed, as if he wasn't actively making fun of Max. He shifted so he was staring at Max and nodded. "Yeah, where you bite your bottom lip until you break the skin even if it ends up bleeding. You always do when you think too hard."

Max frowned, ready to contradict George. But a quick lick of his bottom lip and sure enough he could taste blood, making him swear under his breath. He didn't even notice he was doing it, why was George even paying attention to it? George let out a satisfied chuckle and shifted in his seat again, resting his arm against the window and leaning his head on his fist. "Told you."

"Shut up." Was the only thing Max could reply. And even if he couldn't see him, he knew George was wearing a proud grin on his face. Max would have bet his life on it.

"So, Charles told me you guys are playing at the Snow Ball. That's cool."

George hummed. "Yeah, Lando went crazy over it. That's why I'm going to school, rehearsal."

Max nodded and pretended he didn't feel the weight lift off his shoulders at the knowledge George's plans only included the band. "That's nice. He also mentioned you're playing a song you've written?"

With the corner of his eyes Max noticed George started blushing, shifting uncomfortably. He cleared his throat. "Ah, yes. I've started working quite a while ago, actually. Lando insisted I should play it."

"So, melody and lyrics? All your making?"

"Yes. The melody is, uhm, uh… remember last year when you found me in the music room?"

Oh.

"Yes. That one?"

"Yes. I've never really… No one's listened to it other than me and you. Lando only read the lyrics."

Oh.

"I'm sure everyone will love it. It was good."

"Thanks."

Well, now they only needed a penguin and then the room - car - would have been cold enough to pass as the Arctic Circle. Could it get any more awkward? The situation was so uncomfortable Max was ready to open the door and jump out of the moving car, though he was pretty convinced not even death could save him from the embarassment he was feeling. He was blushing too, because of course he was. But so was George, so at least he wasn't alone in the misery.

He felt a sting of pride in knowing he had heard the song before anyone else, that George had trusted him with such private information. And now there they were, awkwardly discussing about it in the car with so much water running between them they were drowning. Max could see the foundation of the bridge they were building and he could only hope he wasn't raising his hopes for nothing, that George saw it too.

Five minutes later they finally arrived at school, saving them both from any further embarrassing conversations they could have had. George quickly got out of the car, which Max couldn't really blame him for, but lingered a moment before closing the door.

"Thanks, Max." Max shrugged and waved him dismissively, assuring him it was no big deal. He thought that was it, that George was going to leave then. And yet, "you're coming to the dance, right?"

Max hesitated for a moment, the question catching him off guard. "Yeah, of course."

George nodded, tapping his finger against the side of the car's door nervously. "Good. I wouldn't want you to lose our concerts attendance streak."

Max blushed and felt like a kids caught with his hands in the candies cabinet, looking down to avoid George's eyes. "I could never."

"Cool then. I-"

"George, mate! You took your sweet time, uh?" Max and George turned towards the source of the noise and saw Lando approaching, Oscar, Alex and Zhou waiting at what Max recognized as Alex's car with their arms crossed. "We thought- oh. Hi, Max."

Max swore he could see the wheels turn slowly in Lando's brain as his eyes went from Max to George, then to Max again, then to Max's car and finally landed on George once more. George nodded at Max. "My car broke down, had to ask for a drive." He explained. Lando nodded slowly as he seemed to finally connect the dots, eyes squinting with a sly grin growing on his lips.

"Okay… Well, let's get inside, shall we? President Wolff only gave us a few hours to rehearse in the gym and you know how upset she gets when we stay over allowed time."

George rolled his eyes. "Lando, that one time she sent you to detention because you used too much power and caused a black out through the whole building."

"Still!"

Max let out a laugh and shook his head. "I should probably leave you guys to it."

Lando, offended by George's comment scoffed and waved Max goodbye, walking back to the others. George giggled and turned towards Max. "Bye then. And, thank you. Really."

"I guess you owe me one."

George playfully rolled his eyes before finally closing the door and catching up with Lando.

It was only ten minutes later, Max back on the road headed home, that he realized what had happened in the car.

Was George fucking staring at his lips?

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

December, Senior Year - Snowball

"I want to leave."

"Max."

"No, really. This was a terrible idea, I should have never-"

"Max, c'mon. They didn't even come up on stage yet!"

Carlos, who was listening to the conversation with as much interest as Max had when he'd stumble across a bugs documentary on tv while doing zapping, groaned and let his head fall against the table. He covered his hears with his hands, silently begging Charles and Max to stop bickering.

Charles had made it his personal mission to make sure Max spoke to George that night, even danced with him if he managed to set it up. Carlos was on the plan as well, apparently, though he seemed much less enthusiastic about it than Charles. Neither of them had told Carlos about Max's crush, but at that point Max was giving for granted everyone knew (and had figured it out much sooner than he had).

They had been sitting at the table for the past hour, after having arrived to the school twenty minutes later the Ball started ("Fashionably late", as Charles had put it). Max kept nervously playing with his tie, leg shaking under the table as he was unable to stay still. His stomach churning and he didn't know if it was out of anxiety or excitement for seeing George - or both?

"Max, I honestly don't understand why you're nervous, mate." Carlos spoke, sounding exhausted. "I thought you said you and George were doing good again?"

Max flinched. He scrunched his nose and looked down at his lap, shaking his head. "Not exactly. We're… civil. We don't see each other outside of school, but we text sometimes. Stuck at the same point we were at one month ago." If Max had to repeat those words one more time he was going to go insane. He felt like a broken record, playing the same song over and over again.

"Still better than nothing."

"My point exactly!"

"And who apologized first?"

"We didn't."

Carlos' eyes widened as his lips parted in confused surprise, while Charles loudly face palmed, refusing to meet Max's eyes. "Y-you- you didn't apologize?"

Max scoffed. "I sure didn't. I have nothing to apologize for, he's the asshole."

Charles pinched the bridge of his nose and looked at Carlos. "Do you get what I'm dealing with?"

Max, partially hurt by Charles' words, frowned and crossed his arms. "Look, even if he walks around pretending I'm the villain in the story, George is the one in the wrong. I can't find one thing I should apologize for!"

Charles looked at him unimpressed. "I don't know what you two told each other, but knowing you Max, there is definitely something you should apologize for."

Max scoffed and turned around, resting his chin against the chair's back. The music was pumping loud from the speakers, some disco tune Max couldn't recognize but that the rest of the students on the dance floor seemed to appreciate. Had the situation been any different he would have probably been among them, letting the music run through his veins and forget about everything for the few hours the Ball would last. Instead he was sitting there, eyes scanning through the crowd searching for something - anything - to snap him awake from the haze state he was in.

But that night, Max just wanted to wrap everything up and go home. Everywhere he looked he saw people enjoying themselves, couples kissing pretending to hide behind the enormous centerpieces that laid on every table, as if no one could see them anyway. Was it weird that he wished him and George could do the same?

Max thought that talking to George again would have meant getting their friendship back. That they would have fallen back into their old habits like no time had passed. A naive part of him hoped George would have forgotten about their fight and apologized to him, 'no worries Max! I was a dick, you had all the right to lash out on me!' Instead their grudge for each other still lingered heavy between them, the texts they exchanged with each other did nothing but make Max feel worse about the whole situation. Now he felt like walking on glass, analyzing and overthinking every small interaction they shared.

He had showed up to the Ball with the best intentions, really. Finding George, talking to him, solving things out. But the mere thought of doing it did nothing but growing the pit in his stomach, resulting in a sudden need of throwing up all the champagne he was drinking to ignore Charles' insisting requests of apologizing to George.

Wasn't that his idea too, anyway? It was like being stuck in a loop he couldn't get out of. Max mentally groaned before standing up abruptly, catching Carlos and Charles' attention. "I need to be alone."

"What? But the Silver Arrows are about to-"

"I need to be alone." Max repeated, ignoring Carlos' protests. He walked away and headed straight for the exit, ignoring that the rest of the students had started cheering on louder as the band walked in on stage.

He barely registered Lando yelling something about having fun and dancing before leaving the gym behind him and quickly walking down the hallway, slipping inside the bathroom. He leaned against the door and slide against it, closing his eyes and sighing. Max rarely hated himself as much as he was at that moment. He run his hands through his hair and lightly pulled at them, mentally cursing at himself. When - and most importantly how - did he get so pathetic, that he could barely stand to be in the same room as George?

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

Max was a mess.

He didn't know for how long he had been sitting on the floor, alone, if not for the occasional student who ran in to throw up the alcohol they had managed to sneak in. He could hear the faint music playing from the gym and, if his mind wasn't playing tricks on him, the Silver Arrows were currently at their third song.

He was seriously pondering wether he should have just stood up and left, but in that moment Oscar bursted into the bathroom, looking around before his eyes fell on Max. He smiled knowingly, seemingly having found what he was looking for.

"Hey." He said, walking and sitting down next to him.

"Hey." Max replied, confused. "Shouldn't you be on stage right now?"

Oscar shook his head. "I'm leaving the spotlight to Lando for now. Besides, I had to look for you. Next song up is George's." Max felt his breath cut short and gulped down, nodding.

"I thought you might have wanted to listen to it." Oscar kept going, but Max interrupted him.

"I already have." The words slipped easy out of Max's lips, bringing a smile on his face at the memory of the part of him that George had shared with Max and Max only. He missed when things were easy with him. "The melody, at least."

Oscar hummed. A few seconds of silence passed before he spoke again. "Can I tell you a secret?" Max looked at him intrigued, nodding. "We set you up, two months ago."

"Set me up?"

"You and George, when we went bowling."

"What?!" Max's eyes widened at Oscar's words, standing up. He wasn't sure if anger was the right word for what he was feeling, but it sure came close enough to it. Much to his surprise Oscar looked calm like he had said nothing shocking, sitting there staring innocently at Max.

"It was Charles and Lando's idea." He explained, crossing his legs. "Charles is your best friend, so Lando assumed he would have known about George. Which he did. They made a whole groupchat, it was quite annoying actually." Oscar scrunched his nose at the thought, as if he was physically cringing from the memory.

"Either way," Oscar kept going, "after two hours of continuous notifications they finally decided to have you two hanging out. Charles asked you to go out and… you know the rest."

Part of Max wanted to be mad at his friends, storming inside the gym to snap at Charles for the stupid idea. But then again they wanted nothing but to help him and George out, even if with questionable methods. "Okay." He said, sitting back down with a sigh. "But why?"

Oscar shrugged. "They're your friends. They care about you- and George."

Max nudged him with his shoulder. "You're my friend too, Oscar. Anyone who's patient enough to put up with Lando to help me out is."

Oscar let out a huff which ended up in a snorted laugh, shaking his head. He looked up at Max smiling, folding his hands in his lap. He cleared his throat and relaxed his smile. "The point of me telling you this, is that if you just tried to actually solve your problem, maybe you wouldn't have to force Lando and Charles to come up with this sort of stuff to do it in your place."

Max was about to talk back but Oscar interrupted him by raising his hand. "I know no one actually forced them to. But do you think they'll stop any soon?"

Max bit his lip. He thought back about how Charles had sounded nervous during that phone call two months ago, how he had known about his crush for George for years now, how even tonight he was keen on helping him out even against Max's will. Oscar was right. Unless Max solved this himself, not even a restrictive order could stop his friends from trying to help him and George.

He stood up again, proud grin on his lips as he tried to look more sure than himself than he felt. "You're right. I'm going to walk in there and talk to him." Was he trying to convince Oscar or himself?

Oscar smiled and nodded, standing up as well. "Good. He's waiting for you in the gym."

Max's smile dropped. "Wait, what?"

Oscar took his hand and led him back to the Ball, where he immediately spotted Charles and Carlos whispering to each other near the same table they were sitting at. Except now they had gotten up, slowly moving to the rhythm of the music. Charles met his eyes and smiled encouraging, giving him two thumbs up.

Max frowned but Oscar pulled his arm in another direction, towards a more secretive corner of the gym. Like an angel fallen from Max's nightmares George stood there, nervously biting at his nails as he looked around and paced the floor. Max felt like his brain was surrounded by a cloud of smoke he couldn't get rid of no matter how hard he waved it away, making it hard to put focus on anything but George.

He hadn't even noticed Oscar had left his side until he heard Lando's voice and looked around, just to find the him gone from sight.

"So how are we doing Cota High?" Lando asked in the microphone, resulting in loud yells and cheers from the crowd.

George finally noticed Max, standing only a few feet away from him. Fortunately for Max he started walking towards him, shortening the distance, because he was pretty sure his legs were seconds from giving out.

"Hi." George murmured.

"Hi."

"So, the next song goes out to all the couples out there!" Lando yelled out, grinning. "It's a new song our guitarist, George, worked on for the past year. We hope you'll enjoy it!" Max noticed how Oscar was now on stage, taking up the spot George usually did as the guitar player. He winked at Max and started playing the song, Lando, Alex and Zhou following along.

Max's eyes moved back to George's face, who was offering him his hand staring at him hopeful. "May I have this dance?"

It took little to no resistance for Max to give in and accept his hand, George leading him on the dance floor as other couples started slow dancing to the song. Although with not much confidence - could Max blame him? - George directed Max's arms around his neck before bringing his own hands to Max's hips, swinging following the melody.

Max's cheeks were so red and warm he felt like he was going on fire, ready to explode. He had never been this close to George ever, not since realizing he had feelings for him anyway. Every speech he might have thought of giving him about their fight was long forgotten now, his mouth too dry to even utter a mere sorry.

George seemed to be in the same conditions, honestly, yet he was clearly being braver than Max if they were in that situation. He spoke first.

"Sorry for this… ambush." He began, not meeting Max's eyes. "I wanted to talk to you."

"That much I figured." Max managed to let out, earning a nervous chuckle from George.

"Yeah. Do you mind?"

Max shook his head, breathing deeply waiting for him to keep going.

"I don't want to fight. I feel like that's something I should start with." George said, trying to break the tension by laughing awkwardly. "Did Oscar tell you they planned the bowling thing?"

Max nodded, not trusting himself to do more than that.

"Lando told me a month ago, more or less. We went out to celebrate that we got to play at the Snow Ball, he got drunk and spilled the truth. He cried too, actually. It was not a nice sight." George frowned at the memory and, despite himself, Max let out a chuckle.

"I was mad at first." George kept going. "I felt betrayed, you know? Like they were messing with things that did not concern them at all." Max nodded. "But then I thought… I thought that in one afternoon they had managed to do more than you and I have in a whole year. And if Lando of all people had succeeded in something I had failed in, well, if that's not a cry for help then I don't know what it is."

As much as Max appreciated George's dry humour, especially to lighten the awkward and rather tense mood they were in, if he didn't make the point soon Max was going to melt on spot. He said nothing to hurry him, worried it might have scared George into backing away from whatever was happening, but cleared his throat, humming.

"So I asked them to help me plan this. My song playing in the background as you and I talk. Finally, if I may add so."

That reluctantly brought a smile on Max's lips, even if a small one. "Did anyone ever tell you you talk too much?"

"You. Constantly, actually." George said, rolling his eyes playfully. Max's smile grew as he shook his head, looking down at his feet.

"I missed talking to you." Max's head snapped up, eyes wide as they met George's blue ones. "I was so mad at you, after what happened in March. I was also proud of myself for managing to go no contact, if you can believe that. A sad, awful personal victory I never dreamed of achieving.

"And then all it took was seeing you so distraught one night at the bar for me to cave in and text you again. Like you were some disastrous drug I couldn't get rid of. And then the bowling… My heart ached, it felt like you kept using it as a worthless punchbag. I tried to ignore you, it didn't work. So I still kept texting you after that, longing for the same relationship we had before as if me asking for your notes could erase eight months of our lives."

Max saw the tears welling up in George's eyes immediately, wetting his lashes, running down his cheeks and hanging off his chin before falling down. Max's lips were sealed, worried that if he said anything he'd break whatever truth spell George was under making him say all those things. He didn't trust himself to speak anyway.

"And then I came up with this plan because I'm so tired of us pretending we're fine, trying to restart a friendship I didn't want to be over in the first place. But even now I'm questioning if it's going to work because texting is fine, but then I see your face and all I can replay in my head is you yelling at me that I'm not your friend, that I'm an entitled asshole, that I'm-" George's voice broke, a cry escaping his lips stopping him from finishing his sentence. He leaned away from Max, covering his sobs with the back of his hand as he squeezed his eyes closed, trying to stop the tears.

Max tried to approach him, offering his support (but what support could he give, if he was feeling the exact way as him?) but George gestured at him to stay away. He held up his hand, asking for a moment.

The song came to an end almost at the same time, lots of the students cheering on as Lando took a short bow. Max noticed how he glanced their way for a moment, eyes filled with worry. He cleared his throat in the microphone and announced they were going to take a five minutes break, leaving the stage to once again welcome the DJ.

As more disco music started filling the room George grabbed Max's arm, dragging him outside the gym. He stopped in the hallway, leaning against the wall trying to recollect himself. He pinched the bridge of his nose, sniffing.

"Sorry. Sorry, I didn't mean for it to go this way."

"It's okay." Max murmured, even if he knew it really wasn't.

Not that he blamed George, of course. It was a miracle he was managing to hold himself together. Max had to admit George's words hit him harder than he had expected. After having spent eight months waiting for an apologize from the brit, the doubt that maybe his outburst had affected George hadn't hit him in the slightest.

It clearly should have had, if George's tears were a hint of it. But the pride in him kept him quiet, unable to say anything knowing George still refused to acknowledge his own mistake.

George took a deep breath in and wiped his eyes, looking at Max. "I think I've said everything I've kept in me since you broke up with Janet." George let out, laughing sadly. "Do you have anything to add?"

A lot.

"Did you think about me?" Well, maybe not that.

George frowned. "Did you miss the last five minutes or-"

"No, I mean after the fight."

George's lips fell in the shape of an 'o'. He looked down, whispering something Max didn't quite catch. "Of course I did." He said, avoiding Max's eyes. "I missed you so much, I missed seeing you after class, playing games together, seeing you at school and not talking to you was pretty much… hell."

He looked like he was about to add something, but Max interrupted him. "And not even once did you think of apologizing to me?"

George immediately looked up at him, eyes so wide Max was worried they were going to pop out of his eyelids. He scoffed in shock, crossing his arms. "As much as I missed you, Max, I was deeply hurt by all the shit you threw at me just because you were upset at Mr. Brown." George lifted his foot up and rested it on the wall, shaking his head. "And you?"

"I was upset at you as much as I was upset at him!" Max replied, avoiding George's question.

"Really?"

"You threw me under the fucking train. How was I supposed to react?"

"How was I fucking supposed to know he was going to rip your exam right there and then?! I just assumed he was going to have you re-do it on your own!" George yelled, pushing himself off the wall and moving towards Max. "And, okay, I was kind of an asshole because I was worried he was going to turn on me next. But can you blame me?!"

Max couldn't. Realistically he knew George was right, at least about Mr. Brown. For the first time since that day he tried to put himself in George's shoes and wonder what he would have done had he been in his position. He would have covered for him, surely. Without a second thought. But George wasn't Max, and wasn't that why he had fallen so helplessly in love with him in the first place?

George groaned and run his hand across his face, eyes finally landing on Max with a tired sigh. "Look, I told you. I didn't want to fight. I don't know if, giving the way I just yelled at you, you'll believe my words." George cleared his throat and closed his eyes, trying to sound as sincere as possible. "But I am sorry for not covering for you, Max. I truly am. I've been since the moment I did it. I just… I don't know, call it pride, or not thinking it was such a huge problem for you. But I'm sorry."

Max had waited eight months to hear those words.

Eight months to hear George being sorry for what he had done to him, for not standing up to him, for ignoring almost seventeen years of friendship. Yet Max felt as hollow as he did before, even if he could tell the words had been truthful. George really was sorry. He had said it out loud, at his face, not in some distorted dream where halfway through the apology his face merged into Charles' asking him to play FIFA.

Why wasn't it helping then?

Max's throat was dry, as if he had been sobbing non stop for the past hour. Yet no tears strained his face, no cry had left his lips. He wished it had.

"But do you think I've cheated?"

"What?"

"You never told me." Max said, feeling like the void itself was swallowing him whole as George didn't answer him. "Do you think you would have needed to lie because you think I've cheated?"

George frowned. "I told you I didn't see you."

"No, I get that. But do you believe I did it?"

Then George scoffed and laughed, like Max had said the joke of the year. "Max, of course not. I mean, I think I did at first. But when I got home, it took me little time to realize you couldn't have. I know you."

Max gulped and nodded, unable to hold George's gaze. "So, what you told me after the meeting…"

"I was upset, then we both started yelling. I lost control. But I don't think you've cheated. I don't remember half of the stuff I said." He whispered the last part and looked down, as if the shame was only catching up to him now. "Hm. I was more of a dick then I remembered, uh?"

Max felt like he was seeing George for the first time, raising his gaze on George's face as he finally felt complete again.

"I love you."

"I beg your pardon?"

Shit. Did he say that out loud?

He had meant to apologize. I'm sorry George, I was a dick too. I shouldn't have lost my temper. You look so kissable right now, God.

How did he end up saying that of all things? George looked like Max had dropped a literal bomb in his hands before running away and leaving him to deal with it. Max was still standing there though, frozen on spot (much like George was).

Considering the situation, Max had two options. Either he pretended he just had a stroke, or admitted his true feelings to George before it was too late.

"Sorry, I just had a stroke."

Okay, what the fuck?

"Blimey Max, if you hated me so much you could have just said that." George chuckled awkwardly, clearly unsure on what to do.

Max shook his head, leaning towards George and grabbing him from the forearms. "No! God, I don't hate you. Sorry, I keep saying the wrong thing." He closed his eyes, cursing at himself. George slowly moved away from Max's grasp and temptingly reached for his cheek, stroking it softly.

"It's okay." He murmured. "Why don't you give a try at the heartfelt speech? I think it's your turn."

Max smiled and nodded. George took his hand away and Max missed the feeling of it on his skin almost immediately, but shook his head determined to properly express his feelings, for once.

"I was fucking mad at you that day. I thought it was because you refused to speak up for me, turns out it was really because I thought you thought I cheated. Apparently that really hurt me because… I love you, George. Have been since we met, I think. But I've only realized it like, a few months after we fought. And I missed you, God have I missed you, everyday since our fight.

"I came to all your concerts," at that George grinned knowingly, "desperate to see you more and hear you play. But I was so stupidly proud, I didn't even think you could have been offended by what I said. I'm so, so sorry for that."

George bit his lip and nodded. It was obvious he wanted to say something, yet stayed quiet allowing Max to speak.

"I thought about you every day. I thought about reaching out, making the first move. But I always ended up deciding against it. I tried to get over my feelings, too. I tried dating, I thought it was really working out with Janet." Max confessed, and it felt like lifting a rock off his chest. "But it didn't work out. It never did, because I only ever thought of… you."

The way George stared at him was enough to make Max's legs buckle. He was so focused on him, on his words. Max felt truly seen, George was being able to read him without trying.

"It was honestly hell." Max continued, mimicking George's words. "Especially after we went bowling, I thought having you in my life again would have helped me. But knowing we were just ignoring the elephant in the room was just making it worse, I think."

Max took a deep breath, feeling breathless like he had just run a marathon. George stared at him, silently asking with his eyes if he was done. When Max nodded George cleared his throat, taking Max's hands in his.

"Max, please don't get offended, but you're truly terrible with words. You know that, right?"

Max would have definitely gotten offended if George hadn't been smiling at him, squeezing his hands as he intertwined their fingers. Max let out a giggle and nodded. George looked down wetting his lips, running his thumbs on Max's hands sides, the gesture so natural and comfortable Max could have died happy right there.

George let the quiet linger for a few seconds, as if he wanted to enjoy the silence between them. "So, just to recap. You fucked up, I fucked up, we both acted dumb, now we're here. Is this the part where I forgive you?"

"Who said I've forgiven you?"

George rolled his eyes. "I'd hope so, after your love confession."

Max started blushing, looking down too scared to keep eye contact. But George lifted his chin up, breaking their hand contact to do so, much to Max's dismay. "Please don't make me say it again, it's already embarrassing as it is."

"You think?"

"I sound like I'm twelve."

George's hands moved to hold Max's cheeks, leaning in scaring closer to Max's face. "You've been in love with me for as long, if I heard correctly."

"Maybe," Max said, breathless, "but I only realized it this year."

"So you've said. May I ask how?"

George's hands caressed his cheeks, Max gulped down. "Honestly?" George nodded, running his tongue across his bottom lip. "It was at one of your concerts. During that one song Lando calls you up to sing the chorus with him."

"Hm?"

"I've realized by the third chorus the fact I couldn't stop staring at your lips didn't depend on me adoring your voice."

"Ouch."

"Which I do, of course."

George kept leaning in until he was inches away from Max's face, their breaths mixing together in a concert of unsure symphonies. Max felt cornered even without a wall behind him. He had no desire of escaping.

"Can I tell you something?" George asked, his voice dropping dangerously low.

"Yes."

"You know our fight?"

"I have a vague memory of it, yes."

"I got so mad when you mentioned Charles."

At that, Max frowned. "What? Why?"

George shrugged. "Jealousy, I guess. You have no idea how much I hated whenever you brought him up. Being compared to him was the final straw."

"Ah. Why?"

George stared at him in disbelief for a moment before finally closing the distance between them.

The kiss felt late, in a way. Something due long ago that they had only now managed to catch up with. Max's lips moved against George's eagerly, feeding off George's desperate sighs like a starved man. He let Max gently push him backward and against the wall, his hands flying to Max's hair and tugging at them.

George's waist was held hostage by Max's hands, refusing to let go of him. A simple squeeze and moving his knee in between George's legs was enough to make the other gasp, lips parting enough for Max to slip his tongue between them.

"You're messing up my hair." Max muttered as they parted to catch their breaths. George wasted no time in attacking his lips again, ignoring his protest.

"You're always wearing that stupid hoodie over your head," he said, grabbing Max by the collar of his suit and bringing him impossibly closer, "and now you care about your hair?"

Max leaned away for a moment, pouting. "I put effort into it for once. I don't want to go home looking all fucked."

"And here I thought you loved me."

"Fuck you."

"I'd love that if you'd let me, actually."

Max groaned and hid his face in the crook of George's neck. George chuckled, gently scratching the back of Max's head. He felt so at ease in George's arms, like he always belonged there.

"You know we can't just leave it like this, right?" George said, serious. "We need to talk. More."

"Ugh, do we?"

George chuckled, shaking his head. "We've done and said a lot of bullshit before today, Max. We can't just pretend nothing happened."

"I thought that's what we did today, acknowledge what happened."

"Yes. And after-"

"For fuck's sake George, we're not a married couple in need of therapy. We're not even a couple!"

George hummed, the vibrations in his throat against Max's cheeks sending shivers down his spine.

"Gross."

"Lando! Come on."

"No, Oscar. It's gross."

George and Max's heads turned towards the gym entrance, where Lando and Oscar were staring at him with surprised (and grossed out, in Lando's case) looks on their faces.

"We wanted to make sure you two hadn't killed each other." Lando explained, to which Oscar nodded.

"Sorry for interrupting your privacy." Oscar tried to say, but Lando glared at him.

"No! Don't apologize. It's a miracle the clothes are still on. I'd like to take credit for the idea, by the way! You're welcome."

Both George and Max flipped him off at the same time, earning an amused chuckle from Oscar. "C'mon, cupid. The party's inside." Oscar said, pushing Lando back inside. "Are you two coming?"

George nodded. "Yeah, give us a second." Oscar nodded and disappeared behind the gym's doors, following Lando.

Max sighed and leaned away from George, sighing. He couldn't believe it was happening. Months (if not years) of pining after that stupidly beautiful boy and now there he was, standing in front of him after they had just exchanged their first kiss.

First of many, if Max wasn't getting his hopes too high.

George caught him staring and smiled embarrassed. "What?"

"Nothing. You're pretty, you know that?"

"I keep being told that, yes."

"Can we postpone the 'deep talk' for tomorrow?" Max asked, resting his hands on George's chest. "Let's just enjoy tonight."

George's smile widened as he nodded. "Sounds good to me."

Max smiled and dropped his hand down, taking George's in his and walking over to the gym with him. The grin never left his lips, not when they walked in the room and he felt Charles and Carlos' eyes on him, not when Lando kept talking to Alex and Zhou while pointing at them as Oscar rolled his eyes at their side.

George was attached to his hip, literally. They kept dancing together, the slow songs and the more energetic ones, never leaving each other's side for a moment. Max danced so much he felt his head started spinning, though he wasn't sure how much that depended on the dance itself or on George's presence next to him. And then, when Max excused himself saying he needed a drink, he found a pair of arms hugging him from behind as he poured himself a cup of punch.

"By the way," George whispered in his ear, "I love you too."

For the first time in what felt like forever, being in love didn't feel like a punishment.