Seven

I love you, goddammit

Max had spent the entire day at Gwen's watching stupid rom-com's that Gwen loved. Max didn't care for them, but he had to admit that some were funny. She had even made microwave popcorn at one point.

But all good things had to come to an end. He watched the passing street signs, trying to memorize each one for the next time he went to see Gwen.

"Alright, Max. You good to go now?" She asked when they pulled up to the school.

"Yeah, I think so." He said, unbuckling. "Thanks, Gwen."

She smiled at him. "No problem."

He watched as she drove off, before turning and heading to the school. It was late, about 8 o' clock. He knew that Preston would probably be back at their dorm. Asleep, if he was lucky.

He gently opened the door. Preston was indeed home and asleep. But not in his bed. He saw sprawled on the desk chair next to Max's desk, head down and arms crossed, snoring lightly. It was obvious he was waiting for Max. There was no other explanation for why he fell asleep in not only and uncomfortable position, but an uncomfortable place.

He moved forward into the room quietly. He grabbed a blanket off of the window sill, covering Preston, who gasped a little as he woke up. Max hadn't realized he was such a light sleeper. Of course, he was usually was asleep by the time Preston fell asleep, even at camp.

"Max... Max I want to talk to you." Preston said, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Not right now, Pres. You're tired. Go to sleep." Max responded, rubbing his thumb over his cheek.

"No, if it doesn't happen now, we'll ignore it. Like... Like I ignored you. For seven years." Preston said, starting to cry.

"Preston-"

"Don't 'Preston' me, Max! Like it's okay! It's not okay. It's not okay that I ignored you. It's not okay that I left you wondering what you did wrong when it was me." Preston was fully awake now, sitting up straight as he cried.

Max hated it. He didn't hate the words, but he hated the tears that were ruining Preston's perfect face. He hated that Preston carried all this guilt. He hated that this boy, too fucking perfect for this world, was feeling this bad. "Preston..."

"I hated that you slept with... with whatever the fuck his name was, if you even know. I hated it because it meant that you had moved on, that you- you had-" His crying was too intense now.

Max gently held the boy, not picking him up, but persuading him to move from the chair to his bed. Max laid down, Preson on top of him.

"I never moved on, babe. All the boy I sleep with? It's to forget about you." Max said quietly. "I fuck 'em to forget tht first kiss- and the second, when you said goodbye to me. It never works, cos my mind always goes back to you."

Preston moved his head to look at Max, who was avoiding his gaze. "You're right. I wasn't sure what I was doing wrong. I waited everyday for a call, Preston. Everyday. Wishing you could help me through the adoption like you had helped me through hurting myself." He was crying now. "I prayed to some God I don't even believe in that you'd call me. I don't know when I just stopped caring. When I just... When I started trying to forget. It started with hurting myself physically- through punches, liquor, hell, I would have tried drugs if I didn't have David. When that didn't work I tried to forget though other ways- sex, specifically.

It started with giving other boys handjobs. I was basically the school slut. Then I got bolder. Blow a boy, get passed around like a blunt at a party. I worked my way up to being fucked. But when I got there... I didn't care that losing my v-card wasn't as personal as it shoulda been. It made me forget. That's all I really wanted, anyway." Max sighed.

Preston squirmed up, putting his arms on either side of Max's head. He gently placed his lips against Max's. It was like all the butterflies that had hidden themselves away seven years ago had all come back. It was soft, sweet- nothing like the other kisses he had been given, which were rushed and mostly during the course of sex with a stranger.

--

Preston wasn't sure what he was thinking when he kissed Max. Max should have pushed him away, told him that it was too fucking late to fix anything. But he didn't. He kissed back and it was like they unpaused the moment that they had first kissed seven years ago in Max's cot at camp.

Preston pulled away, tears falling onto Max's face. He ran his hair through Max's curls, noticing how soft it was. Max's cyan eyes stared back at him. He was a work of art- A fucking Renaissance-era sculpture, a goddamn masterpiece. It didn't matter what everyone else thought of him. All that mattered was him, here, in this moment.

Preston kissed him again, more force behind it, but just as loving. Max eagerly kissed back, his hands attaching to the back of Preston's neck. They stayed like that for God-knows-how-long, kissing and holding onto each other like the world would end.

Eventually, though, they did separate for more than air. Preston pressed his forehead against Max's, closing his eyes.

"I love you, goddammit." Preston said quietly.