Reading between the lines

double dates send Max spiraling

"You can lean against me." He offered. "You know, to be more comfortable.. since you're tired."

Max's heart skipped a beat and his stomach dropped. Deciding to ignore the latter, an instinct that had hindered him so many times - ruined so much for him -, he chuckled and said, "Just because I'm tired?"

It was a sad attempt at teasing the Monegasque, because before he'd even finished the sentence, he'd already scooted closer, his body leaning against Charles'. Only his head was still upright, so he could wait for a reaction.

Rolling his eyes, Charles muttered, "Can't you just accept my offer?"

But his response wasn't as believable either, when his arm wrapped around Max's shoulder, drawing him in closer. For a moment they grinned at each other, then Max rested his head in the crook of Charles' neck and Charles placed his head on top of Max's.

His stomach still hadn't quite settled, the feeling of something clawing at his intestines keeping Max from enjoying this moment as much as he would've wanted to. He tried to ignore it, focus on the movie instead, but by the fifteen minute mark, Max still hadn't a clue what it was about. He couldn't even have named a single character.

He couldn't place where his struggle was exactly. The fact that he was so close to Charles, inhaling his scent each time he took a breath and feeling his warmth, or the inherent fear that came with being so close to him in a room where other people could see too?

Max hated it.

After all this time his fathers abuse still impacted him so greatly, even when he knew he wasn't doing anything wrong.

It hadn't been wrong to love Daniel either, yet the life long teachings of his father, which had told Max the opposite, had broken them apart. Now that he was with Charles, he still felt the same and it was fucking terrifying.

Why hadn't he changed? Why was this still so hard for him? What if he couldn't hide it and Charles would find out that he was too fucked up to be a proper boyfriend? That Max didn't work the way he was supposed to? That he was fucking broken and didn't know how to fix himself?

A paralyzing thought entered Max's mind, knocking all the breath out of his lungs. He had to close his eyes for a moment, afraid the tears would return, because what-

What if Daniel had been right? Should he just have listened to him? Not gone on that date with Charles? And shouldn't have come here tonight?

It was too much. There were too many questions Max wasn't able to answer. Afraid to answer even. His body tensed again and of course Charles noticed. Or at least Max assumed he had, because suddenly he felt fingers moving up and down his shoulder, drawing soothing patterns. Charles' head moved, something pressing against his head for a moment.

There was nothing else for Max to do, but try to relax again. Because he did want this. So, so much.

Why couldn't the rest of him understand that?

In a moment of defiance - because fuck that, Max was in control of his body, not the other way around - he placed his hand, which he'd kept neatly folded in his lap, on Charles' thigh. Not high up, but it was something. He initiated something, despite his fear.

After keeping it there for a couple of seconds and the world not ending as a result, Max decided he could do more and began moving his fingers in the same circular motions as Charles was on his shoulder.

He believed to have heard a quiet sigh, soft and warm. It made him smile.

Slowly the knots in his stomach began to uncramp. Every stroke of Charles' fingers sent another wave of comfort through his body and each time Max made a move of his own, the defiance began turning into courage. He began to enjoy the proximity without the anxiety that had always come with this sort of display of affection.