𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴~ Lestappen

The Realization

The day passed in a blur of lazy laughter and easy comfort between them, as if all the heaviness and confusion of the past few weeks had finally faded. Charles felt more at ease than he had in a long time; maybe everything between them was going to be okay. Max was there, as he always had been, and it felt simple, like nothing could come between them now.

But that evening, as they were clearing up the remnants of another takeout dinner, Max’s phone buzzed with a message that seemed to freeze him mid-laugh. Charles watched as Max’s easy smile slowly slipped, his expression growing unreadable.

“Who is it?” Charles asked lightly, his curiosity piqued by the way Max had gone quiet, still staring at his phone screen.

Max swallowed, looking up at Charles with an expression he couldn’t quite place—part surprise, part guilt, and something else that made Charles’s stomach twist.

“It’s… Emma,” Max said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Charles felt a prickling at the back of his neck, the lightheartedness of the day fading in an instant. “Oh,” he replied, trying to keep his tone casual, as though this didn’t unnerve him. “What did she want?”

Max hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. “She… she said she needs to talk to me. In person. Something she didn’t tell me last time.”

Charles’s heart sank, the doubts and insecurities that he thought he’d buried creeping back up, sharp and relentless. He tried to ignore the twinge of jealousy that flared in his chest, but the uncertainty gnawed at him.

“Right. So, you’re going to meet her?” Charles asked, hating the tremor in his voice.

Max looked at him, guilt flashing across his face. “I think I should. She sounded… it sounded important. But it doesn’t mean—” He stopped himself, sighing. “Charles, I don’t want you to think—”

“I know what I think,” Charles said, his voice tighter than he’d intended. He couldn’t help but feel like a shadow, like he was once again on the outside looking in.

Max took a step forward, his face filled with a desperate sort of resolve. “Please, don’t misunderstand. It’s not about… her. It’s about something I need to understand, something I need to move on from completely.”

Charles forced a nod, though his chest felt hollow. “Alright, Max. Do what you need to do.”

Max opened his mouth as if to say something else, but then he just nodded, casting Charles a last lingering look before heading out the door.

The apartment felt unbearably empty after Max left. Charles tried to distract himself, pacing the living room, trying not to imagine what Max and Emma might be talking about. But as the minutes ticked by, an uneasy thought started to settle over him—what if he’d misjudged everything? What if he’d been a temporary stand-in, something to help Max move on from his past, a safe harbor while Max figured things out?

He sank onto the couch, covering his face with his hands. He knew he should trust Max; he wanted to. But he’d been burned before, and the idea of opening himself up only to lose Max terrified him.

The hours stretched on, each one feeling longer than the last. Charles eventually drifted into a restless sleep on the couch, only to be jolted awake by the sound of the door creaking open.

Max stood in the entryway, his face drawn, his eyes unreadable as he looked at Charles.

“Hey,” he said softly, closing the door behind him. He seemed hesitant, as if he didn’t quite know how to start.

Charles sat up, rubbing his eyes. “How did it go?”

Max took a deep breath, and then—without a word—he came over to sit beside Charles on the couch, reaching for his hand. Charles’s heart skipped, his mind racing with a thousand questions. But Max’s grip on his hand was steady, grounding.

“I don’t think I realized until tonight how much I’ve been holding onto things I shouldn’t,” Max began quietly, his thumb brushing over Charles’s knuckles. “Emma came back because… she wanted to apologize. She said that leaving me back then was a mistake and that she’s regretted it ever since.”

Charles felt his stomach twist, his fears crashing over him all at once. “And… what did you say?”

Max met his gaze, his expression filled with a strange mix of sorrow and resolution. “I told her that I forgave her. But that I’d also moved on. Because… I have. I’ve been clinging to the idea that I needed to be perfect for her, that I needed to prove I could be worth staying for. But I didn’t realize that being with you… it’s not about being perfect. You’ve shown me that.”

Charles’s throat tightened, his heart racing as Max’s words sank in. “So… what does that mean for us?”

Max’s hand tightened around his, and he looked at Charles with a rare vulnerability. “It means that I want to be here with you. I want us. But… there’s something I need to ask.”

Charles held his breath, waiting, a mix of hope and fear churning in his chest.

“Do you trust me?” Max asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Because I know I’ve been all over the place. I know I’ve been scared, but I… I don’t want to keep holding back, Charles. I want to be all in. I want to know that you’re there with me, too.”

Charles felt a wave of relief wash over him, mixed with something deeper, a realization that hit him with surprising clarity. Despite everything, he wanted to be with Max—completely. The past, the uncertainty, the lingering fears… they were all part of the journey. And if he was honest with himself, Max was worth every risk, every doubt.

“Yes,” Charles said, his voice firm, his gaze unwavering. “I trust you, Max.”

Max’s face softened, his eyes bright with a mixture of surprise and happiness. He let out a small laugh, his shoulders relaxing. “Good. Because… I have no idea how to be perfect, but I can promise to be real. And… that includes burning the kitchen down if I ever try to cook for you again.”

Charles laughed, his heart feeling lighter than it had in ages. “I’ll take it. As long as you don’t expect me to bail you out every time.”

Max grinned, leaning closer until their foreheads touched. “Deal.”

They stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, the quiet understanding between them stronger than anything words could express. In that moment, Charles realized that maybe things wouldn’t always be easy, but he didn’t need them to be. What they had was messy, imperfect, and absolutely real.

And for the first time in a long time, that felt like enough.