Dopamine | Adrenaline Book Two

16- By Heaven, I Love You Better Than Myself

The call was over. Max got up from the bed and dressed himself in comfortable clothes before he moved outside to find Charles sitting on the couch.

"Charles," he called his name in a whisper, approaching him with a gift in his hands.

At the sound of Max's voice, Charles raised his head from where it was buried in his knees, turning to face him as he sat on the couch. His green eyes were glistening with tears that he refused to let fall, afraid that he was being dramatic and that maybe he didn't have the right to be so hurt.

"Is everything okay?" Charles asked, his voice a little hoarse, as if getting the words out was almost painful. "I just wanted to give you privacy," he explained, downplaying his own emotions.

There were so many questions that Charles was dying to ask but every one of them sounded more immature than the last. Do you still love her? Do you wish she hadn't left? Do you miss her..? The list went on and on but not a single one could be spoken out loud, too afraid of receiving an answer that would break his heart. The rational part of his brain was screaming that Max wasn't a liar and that if he was with him then it was because he truly loved him. The insecure parts of him however, were saying that he'd never be picked first and that if both of them were calling for him, there was a chance he would still choose her.

Max sat on the floor in front of him and placed his "gift" onto the other man's lap: Charles's own helmet from the Imola Grand Prix. The helmet was full of scratches, a reminder of what had happened that day.

"I took it off of you, and I didn't want to give it back to your team," Max said softly, looking up to the brunette. "I was too scared that would be the only thing I'd have left of you."

Just then it hit Charles how afraid Max had truly been in the moment— it was a scene he couldn't even remember yet had Max believing they may never see each other again. The nights spent unconscious in the hospital were no comparison to fear of almost losing the other and as his hands grazed over the dents and scratches on his helmet, Charles knew that had it been the other way around he would not have been strong enough.

"You have every part of me, Max," he whispered, "I'm sorry that this would have been your only reminder of it."

"Doesn't matter anyways..." Max whispered, rubbing his thumb against Charles' leg. "I don't think I'd stick around here if you were really gone."

"What made you answer?" Charles brought up the elephant in the room, unable to hold it back any longer. 

Looking slightly up at him as he sat on the floor, Max let his hand slip away from the man's leg, the expression in his face clearly upset, mirroring Charles. "I shouldn't have picked up," he confessed, letting out a heavy sight as he looked down at his own hands, "but I thought it was something important, I thought something could have happened to Penelope."

"I got worried," Max added, looking back at Charles. He opened his mouth to speak again but nothing came out, hesitating to open himself up any further than that.

It was at the mention of Penelope that Charles felt his heart break but this time on Max's behalf. Charles had been so caught up in his own jealousy and newfound possessiveness, he'd let his insecurities block out any possibilities for him answering that phone call that wasn't, "he's choosing her over me."

"Max," Charles whispered, trying to blink away his tears.

Lowering himself to the ground beside him, Charles reached to carefully brush his hand across his blond hair. Charles had been thinking all the wrong questions. It wasn't that Max loved Kelly, Max loved Penelope. He was losing a child at the expense of their relationship.