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Summary
Max loves Charles. He has done all the way back since they raced in karts together and Charles had that stupid swoopy hair style that he always ended up brushing out of his eyes.
It has all been so simple back then. An arm on his shoulder when they shared the podium, a clap on the back in greeting or congratulations, and the occasional brush of a hand that sent Max spiralling as he tried to will away the blush that built on his cheeks.
Max had never thought about anything beyond those touches. Sure, maybe he’d considered what it would be like to kiss someone from time to time but nothing further. He thought maybe, during his teenage years, he was just too focused on racing, on achieving his dream and making it to Formula One. Maybe, once he made it, he’d be normal in that regard.
The feelings never came.
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Or 5 times Max struggled to accept that Charles loved him regardless of his asexuality and 1 time he finally did.