My Home Is With You [LGBT+]

Eighteen

MAX GUIDES ME INSIDE the huge empty house with a hand on my lower back. I grab onto his forearm, eyes taking in the sight around me. The house is bare and cold, stripped of any memories or personalities.

And yet, "It's... wow."

"Thought you'd like it," Max grins.

"And I thought you said this was a small house," I retort.

"It is!" He defends, "It's smaller than the one in Mantoloking."

I shake my head and hide my amused smile as I part away from him so I can explore. I can feel his gaze watching my every move, making sure I don't stumble and fall with how weak I still feel. He follows behind me like a lost puppy and the more I get to know him, the more I fall in lo-

Nope.

No.

"Do you like it?"

"Yes," I nod and jokingly say, "but it's missing something."

"Like all the furniture?" He laughs, "Don't worry I brought some catalogues so we can flip through them and order whatever we want."

We sit in the middle of what should be the living room. There are stacks of promised catalogues between us as we sit crisscross applesauce on the floor.

It's then that I finally notice that Maximilian is wearing loose casual clothing. Black denim jeans with a plain white Henley that hugs his body just right. His 5 o'clock is slowly turning into a stubbled beard and his hair is a gorgeous mess.

The bright sunlight streaming through the bare windows makes his blue eyes shimmer. The soft glow accentuates the greys and greens swirling inside them. Like a brewing storm of perfection.

"What?" He asks, lips upturned into a kind smile.

"Nothing," I blush, embarrassed at being caught staring.

Timidly I reach for a magazine and try to flip through it to distract myself.

"Can you?" He asks, brows furrowed.

I frown as I look at my bandaged hands with only the tips of my fingers exposed, "I think I can."

"Alright, tell me if you need anything," he nods.

We lapse into a comfortable silence until I look at the prices on the listed items. I grab another magazine and find everything ridiculously expensive as well. With a small pout I reach out and tug on Maximilian's shirt.

"What's wrong?" He asks.

I flip the book and show it to him, "'s expensive."

He smiles, "I know. Don't worry about it, I'm paying for anything you want. This place is as much yours as it is mine."

My frown only deepens. I know this. He's reassured me countless of times before we even left the hospital.

But after living comfortably with a low budget, it just seems wrong to waste so much money on a simple cushion with no style.

"It's okay," he insists, reaching toward me.

I go willingly as he pulls me onto his lap. I lean my head on his shoulder and watch as he resumes flipping for the both of us.

"Just tell me when you see something you like," he whispers, "don't think about the money."

It takes a long time, mostly because I do the exact opposite as he tells me. I can't stop thinking about all the money he's going to spend. Not to mention that he's planning on taking me clothes shopping considering everything I owned turned to ash.

"That one," I finally mumble.

He stops, thumbing the page as he stares at the set.

It looks simple yet pretty. The living room set consists of a couch, a loveseat, and a recliner all in leather, black. The coffee table is modern glass with oak branches holding it up and the curtains are a sage green.

Beautiful.

"It's wonderful," Max nods as he reaches for a sticky note to bookmark the page.

Max chooses to install a soft matching sage fluffy alfombra... fuck what's it called in English?

"What's this?" I ask as I squint at the page, "I can't remember the word."

I know for a fact it's not a carpet, it's similar but-

"A rug?" He answers, almost as if questioning his own response.

I feel like an idiot and my expression must have shown how stupid I feel because Max laughs before he comforts me.

"Sorry," he huffs, struggling to regain his composure and failing, "just, you looked so pissed and disgruntled when I told you."

I roll my eyes and cross my arms over my chest as best I can.

He kisses the pout on my lips before standing up and helping me.

"I'm sorry for laughing," he apologizes with a small cough.

"I'm glad I could amuse you," I sigh, a true smile tugging at my lips, "You always seem so stressed and up tight. It's... It's the first time I've seen you so relaxed, you're almost a different person."

"I've been worried about you," he shrugs as he leads me to the kitchen were there's a first aid kit on one of the counters.

"I'm sorry for causing you stress."

"I've been stressed," he nods, "but you're not the sole cause. What happened to you absolutely terrified me, but I'm going through a few things as well."

He's careful as he slowly unravels the bandages on my hands.

"Will you tell me?" I ask.

He smiles sadly, "I will, I promise. But right now, let me focus on you."