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Summary
He felt his eyes watering and hated himself for it. He was such a crybaby, always with fat tears at every situation. Max didn't mind, though. He always kept George in his arms and kissed the tears away like he was a five-year-old boy, always telling him what a pretty crier he was and that he should make George cry more often just to see him like this.
"Hey, princess. What's going on?"
George's tears came faster, and he let out a sob.
"You're gonna get sick of me."