Archive of Our Own

Six

Max tries to wriggle away as his Mama presses yet another kiss into his hair. He really doesn't get what all the fuss is about.

“Mama, stop.”

“But it's your birthday, my darling.”

It is. Max will turn six years old today. It's not that big of a number, but it's also not small. But Max has never really been too excited for his birthday.

Last year, when he turned five, he still lived with his Papa. And that year, for the first time, he'd made the mistake of asking his Papa for a gift.

He'd just come back from work and had slumped into the armchair, barking at Max to bring him a glass of water.

“Papa?” Max had said in the smallest voice.

“What?”

“Papa, it's my birthday tomorrow.”

“Okay?”

“I…” Max hesitated, but then he remembered his father did not like it when he stuttered, so he spoke all at once. “I want a birthday present.”

His father looked at him for a beat, the glass of water hovering by his mouth. He then slowly put the glass down, his eyes not leaving Max's face the entire time.

“You want a present, is it?” Max nodded innocently. His father leaned in, his face even closer now. Max felt like his father could see into his mind. “You see the food in the kitchen? This roof above your head? Your own fucking room? That's your birthday present.” 

Max blinked. 

“But, Papa—”

“Shut up!” his father's voice screamed. Max flinched, drawing away from him. “I am raising you, you ungrateful twat. The least you can do is be thankful.”

“Papa, I am. Really.”

“Go.”

The tone of his voice cut through Max's heart like glass. He didn't mean to upset his Papa. He really didn't.

“I'm sorry, Papa. I won't ask—”

“I said leave!” His father shoved him. Hard. Max fell against the TV cabinet, his head hitting something hard. The pain immediately brought tears to his eyes, but when he turned around, his father was gone.

Bravely, Max went over to the phone and called his Mama. He told her that his head hurt. Told her that it was bleeding. He asked her how to fix it. On the phone, his mother patiently told him how to carefully clean his wound, how to put the bandage on, and asked how it happened.

She tried to hold herself together as her son recalled to her what had happened. His voice faltered, small sobs escaping him as he explained.

And then, as a final blow to her heart, he had asked, “Mama, are birthdays a bad thing?”

Two weeks later, his Mama had walked into his Papa's house with a Police Man. She had walked into Max's room, packed all his stuff, and picked him up in her arms.

He saw his Papa arguing with Mr. Police Man, shouting at his Mama that she's ‘ruining his life’. But his Mama didn't react. She simply carried Max out of the house and then said to him, “I'm so sorry, my love. I'm sorry I left you and I'm so sorry it took me so long to get you back. But I'm here now. I'm here and I love you.”

Max had thrown his arms around his Mama's neck and rested his head on her shoulder. He didn't know where his Papa was going, but it didn't matter. He could stay with his Mama now.

Max shrugs away the memory. He feels his Mama kiss his head one more time before the school-bus starts honking outside.

“Have fun,” his mother instructs him with yet another kiss to his cheek. And then he is off. 

He has been at this new school for a little less than a year now. And it has all been very different. 

Mr. Vettel is kind and patient and he gives him time and does not yell if Max gets stuck on some words. He does not pressure Max into playing outside with the other kids, unless he really wants to. And he is very nice with Mama too. Always speaks to her gently, in a way that his Papa never did.

Today is his first birthday at this new school, and Max is not planning on telling anyone. He rather wants to get through the day with no attention on him. He really does not want to upset anyone.

Sure, his Mama had said that birthdays are not a bad thing, but his Mama tells him many things so she can keep his heart. Your Papa does love you, darling. Max believes it is better if he doesn't say anything.

Mr. Vettel, however, seems to have missed the memo.

“Class! Today we have a birthday boy amongst us.”

Max wants to curl up into himself and disappear. He grips the table so hard his little knuckles go white. Mr. Vettel calls him up to the front of the class and he goes, because his Mama taught him it's rude to disrespect elders.

“Okay, one, two, three.”

The entire class erupts into song. It's loud— very loud. Max wants to cover his ears but he can't, because then everyone will see that he's afraid of a song . That he can't even stand there while his classmates are doing something nice for him.

So he stands there, his eyes trained on his shoes.

The song ends with a roar of applause and Max is finally allowed to sit back down. Mr. Vettel begins with the day's lessons, but Max feels as if he's watching him the entire time.

—

During recess, Mr. Vettel calls him over to his desk.

“Hello, Max.”

“Hello, Mr. Vettel.”

“ Schatz , If I ask you one thing, will you answer me honestly?”

Max nods.

“Did you not like it when your friends were singing for you?”

Max hesitates. He knows that it was a good thing that happened that morning. He knows that it was something he should've enjoyed. But he really, really didn't.

So, he shakes his head no. 

“Hmm. Well, thank you for being honest with me, sweetheart. Next time onwards, we won't do that. Yes?”

Max looks up with an astonished look in his eyes. “Really?”

Mr. Vettel smiles. “Really. We won't do anything you don't like, okay?”

Max feels so thankful. He feels so, so thankful but he doesn't know how to say that to his teacher. So, he surges forwards and hugs him. Tight.

Mr. Vettel's arms come around him, his hand slowly stroking the back of Max's head. “Are you doing this to tell me ‘thank you’?” Max nods against the fabric of Mr. Vettel's shirt. “Well, you are most welcome. Now, you can go play with your friends if you want.”

The kids outside are running around being loud. Max likes being outside, but he doesn't know if he can play with the other kids. They all already had friends before Max came here. So instead, he sticks to his corner in the sandbox while the others try to conquer the jungle gym.

“Hi, Max!”

The voice startles Max. He looks up to see a boy standing by the sandbox with his arms behind his back. He's seen the boy before. He's the boy who seems to be friends with everyone in class. He has never once seen the boy eat alone during lunch.

“Hi, Charles,” Max replies.

“Happy Birthday!”

Max doesn't like it, but his Mama always taught him to be polite. “Thank you.”

“Have you gotten your kisses?”

“My what?”

The question makes Charles' mouth turn into a slight frown and Max wonders if maybe he shouldn't have asked the question.

“Your birthday kisses. Have you not gotten them?”

Max has no idea what birthday kisses are, but his earlier question seemed to make Charles sad. And Max didn't want to make anyone sad, ever. So he decided not to ask. But Charles explained anyway.

“My Maman says that on your birthday you get the same number of kisses as the age you're turning. She always gives me and my brothers kisses on our birthday. Did your Maman not give you your kisses today?”

Max feels his shoulders tighten up. He doesn't know if he's supposed to get birthday kisses. His Papa never gave him kisses. His Mama did but she didn't give him any ‘birthday kisses’, not that Max remembers. But admitting any of this to Charles feels too scary, so Max doesn't reply. He just drops his head and goes back to shoving sand into his little blue bucket, hoping that if he ignores him long enough, Charles will leave.

Charles does not get the memo.

He takes off his shoes and walks into the sandbox, kneeling down right next to Max. Max keeps shoving sand.

“Can I give you your birthday kisses?”

Max's hand stops. “What?”

“It's not good to have a birthday without getting any birthday kisses. That is sad.”

“Oh.”

“So?” Charles asks again. “Can I?”

Max didn’t know what his answer should be. He’d only ever gotten kisses from his Mama, and Charles was a boy. Do boys give kisses to each other? Well, his Mama never really said that it wasn’t allowed or anything. If there had been something like that his Mama would’ve told him, right? And now that Max had given it some thought, birthday kisses didn’t sound too bad. 

Slowly, he nodded his head. And the smile on Charles’ face was the brightest thing Max had seen.

He shuffled closer and grabbed Max’s face in his hands and then began. One , on his left cheek. Two , on his right. Three , on his left again, then Four on his right. Five , on the left again and the last kiss on his right. Evenly distributed.

“There you go. Happy birthday!”

And for the first time that day, Max truly felt so.

Seven 

Mr. Vettel kept his promise. This year, he wasn’t called to the front of the class while everyone sang to him, but his friends had still made him a birthday card. Max liked the card.

He’s in his sandbox again, his friends have asked him to come play with them, but he doesn’t feel like it. He sits with his little blue bucket and his molds and he waits.

He waits because a year ago he was told that one should always get ‘birthday kisses’ on their birthday.

He’d told his Mama last year when he went home. Told him about the boy in his class who gave him birthday kisses. His Mama first looked at him with a little surprise and Max was worried she would tell him that he did something wrong. But then she smiled and said, “He sounds like a very nice boy.”

So now Max is waiting for his birthday kisses in the sand. He looks around, trying to spot Charles in the sea of children out on the ground, but can’t seem to find him. He sees Pierre running after Yuki instead.

“Pierre!” he calls out. “Pierre!”

Pierre stops, which allows Yuki to create some distance between the both of them. “Hi Max! What happened?”

“Have you seen Charles around?”

Pierre crosses his arms, tilts his chin upwards, and thinks . “I saw him in the morning. I saw him in the classroom. But I do not know where he is now.”

Max frowns. If there’s anyone who would know where Charles is, it would be Pierre. But if even Pierre doesn’t know, well then…

“It’s okay. Thank you,” Max says. Pierre smiles in response and takes off, presumably to chase after Yuki once again.

Maybe Charles forgot. The class didn’t sing for Max today, so maybe Charles forgot that it’s his birthday. Forgot about the birthday kisses. But it’s fine, Max is not sad. He has sand.

After a while, Mr. Vettel comes around to tell everyone that recess will be over in five minutes. Now, Max is sure he isn’t going to see Charles today. But he isn’t sad, no. No, his Mama got him a very nice racecar as a birthday present, and when he goes home he will get to play with it. So no, Max is not sad because of some missed kisses. He upends one of his molds to get a perfect little apple shape on the sand.

“Max?”

His head shoots up because it’s the last voice he was expecting to hear.

Charles is standing by the edge of the sandbox, his hands behind his back like he’s trying to hide something. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

Yes, you’re very late. And you made me feel sad so now I’m not going to talk to you so go away , is what Max wants to say to him, but not really, because he missed him very much. 

“It’s okay. You still came,” Max says, and means it.

Charles then brings his arms out from behind his back and in one of his hands, holds out a singular, blue, Forget-me-not. “I was looking for a blue flower for you,” he says. “I know blue is your favourite colour, but I couldn’t find a blue flower anywhere . It took me so long to find this one and that’s why I got late.”

Max blinks. He looks at the flower in his hand and then at Charles’ face. Charles steps into the sandbox to get closer to Max, still holding the flower out to him. Max takes it.

“I thought you forgot,” Max mutters mostly to himself, but Charles hears him anyway.

Charles shakes his head side to side. “No, I didn’t, I promise. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Charles. You don’t have to say sorry.”

“No!” This time his voice is firm. “I made you feel sad, so I have to say sorry.”

“Charlies, it’s okay—”

“ No , Max,” he grabs his face this time, forcing Max to keep looking at him, “ I. Am. Sorry .”

Max blinks, confused, because he’s already accepted Charles’ apology. “It’s okay, Charles. I forgive you.”

Charles’ face breaks into a smile. “Thank you. Oh, did you get your birthday kisses today?”

Has he gotten his birthday kisses? Well. Technically, his Mama did give him a bunch of kisses this morning before he left for school. But she does that everyday so it doesn’t really count. Also, she never specified that those were birthday kisses so it definitely doesn’t count.

Max shakes his head, “No.”

Charles pouts. “We have to fix that then.”

One, on the left; Two, on the right. Three , on his left; Four , right. Five , left, Six , right. Now was the seventh kiss. The odd one out. Charles looked a little puzzled as to where he could place this last kiss without disrupting the balance. He didn’t want one cheek to get more kisses than the other. No. That would be unfair. He looks around Max’s face till he finds the perfect place for this last kiss.

Seven , on the tip of his nose.

“There,” Charles has a victorious smile on his face, like he just successfully solved the biggest conundrum of his little life. “Happy birthday, Max.”

Ten

There's no mistaking it. This time, Charles has definitely forgotten Max’s birthday. 

The last four birthdays, Charles has always showed up, always wished him a ‘Happy birthday’, always given him his birthday kisses. But this year, Charles isn’t even here.

It's the last period. Max went through the entire day thinking Charles would show up, but he didn’t. And no, Max isn’t sad. 

Yes, he has Charles’ number and could just call him when he goes home and ask him why he didn’t come to school today, but he won’t. He won’t because he’s not that kind of a friend. He’s not the kind of friend who demands all the attention just because it’s his birthday. He knows how annoying it is when George does it every year. George doesn’t let Alex leave his side for even one second on his birthday. Max feels bad for Alex sometimes. 

Max isn’t like George. He doesn’t need Charles to always be there on his birthday. He doesn’t  need all of his attention. Sometimes people have better things to do and that’s okay. Max is not sad. He’s not.

Mr. Rosberg goes on and on about maths in the background and Max can’t really pay any attention but that’s okay because he’s fine .

The last bell rings and Max packs his bag in silence. His friends pat him on the shoulder before walking out and he gives them all small nods of acknowledgement. He can’t really smile back at them and his throat feels a little itchy but he’s fine .

The bus stops in front of his house and Max steps off. His shoulders are sagging and his Mama asks him what’s wrong. He says, “Nothing” because really, nothing’s wrong.

And when Max shuts his bedroom door, climbs into his bed, pulls a pillow over his face and slowly starts to cry, he’s still just fine. He doesn’t understand why he would be crying anyway, it’s really not such a big deal. 

His Mama calls him downstairs for dinner but he doesn’t go. When she comes to check in on him he pretends to be asleep, so she leaves him alone. Even she knows that Max is just fine.

When Max walks into class the next day, his seat is occupied by someone.

“Hi.”

Charles looks tired, that’s what Max notices first. His eyes aren’t bright like they always are, and it looks like he hasn’t slept well. He’s sitting in Max’s seat with his backpack on the floor, and he’s holding a chocolate bar in his hands. “For you,” he says, giving said chocolate to Max.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here yesterday. I promise I didn’t forget your birthday.”

And Max does believe him, because it is so unlike Charles to forget people’s birthdays, or any special days. He remembers them all. He says that people should always remember the days others are celebrated, because what could be better than that?

Max turns the chocolate bar in his hands. It’s a Kinder bar, his favourite.

“Are you okay? What happened?”

Charles lets out a breath. “I’m fine. It’s just…it was Arthur.” Max’s eyes widen. “He got a really bad stomach ache in the night and we had to rush him to the hospital. He had to get surgery, the doctors said there was something in his stomach that was about to burst so they had to remove it. Something starting with ‘A’.”

“Appendix?”

“Yes! That. He had to get his appendix removed because the doctor said it was about to burst.”

“Oh. How is he now?”

Charles shrugs. “Better. Maman is with him today. She said I shouldn’t miss any more days of school.”

Max hums. He’s not sure what else he can say. Hey Charles, so remember how it was my birthday yesterday? Well, you didn’t really give me my birthday kisses is not something Max can just say right before class starts, even though he really does want to. 

When Max doesn’t say anything for a while, Charles asks, “Are you angry with me?”

“What? No. I’m not angry with you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I was just a little sad you weren’t here yesterday, that’s all.”

Charles frowns. It’s obvious that he feels bad, but Charles feeling sad also makes Max feel sad. And Max doesn’t like that.

“Charles, I promise, I’m okay,” Max says with a smile. “Besides, you’re here now.”

“Oh, that reminds me!” Charles jumps out of his seat and grabs Max’s wrist, dragging him outside and into the garden. He doesn’t say anything and Max just lets himself be dragged around.

“I missed giving you your birthday kisses yesterday.”

Right. The kisses. For some reason the thought of getting those kisses makes Max feel butterflies in his stomach and makes his face feel hot.

“Ready?”

Max nods.

One, on the left; Two, on the right. Three , on his left; Four , right. Five , left; Six , right. Seven , left; Eight , right. Nine , left; Ten , right.

Charles smiles like he always does—widely, showing all his teeth. Max can never understand how Charles can smile so much like sunshine, but he likes it. He likes seeing Charles smile.

“Happy birthday, Maxie.”

“Thank you, Charlie.”

Fifteen

Max doesn’t like the boys in his class very much.

Charles has different classes from him now so, they never really get to meet as much as they used to at school. They still come to school together, talk to each other by their lockers, in the hallway. They have lunch together everyday. They have a shared group of friends they always sit with, and it’s the only time Max seems to like high school.

The boys in his class are…meaner. Some of them Max knows since primary school, like George.

Max doesn’t really like George. He’s annoying, he’s obnoxious, and awfully British. He has a pretentious accent and pretentious manners and he pisses Max off very easily for a number of other reasons. And Max has been doing a pretty good job of not letting his little jibes get to him so far, but he manages to get to him on his birthday.

He’s sitting with his friends on the desks in the back of the class when Max walks in. Charles had already texted him a happy birthday this morning and said he’d see him at school so Max wasn’t expecting anything else. He’d just get through his classes then go meet Charles and his friends during lunch.

“Oooh, today’s a special day for Verstappen.”

If Max could only get through the day without George’s grating voice in his ears.

“Why is that?” One of George’s friends asks.

“Why, it’s his birthday today. You know what happens on Max’s birthday?”

“What?”

“He gets little kisses from his boyfriend .” 

“His boyfriend?” someone else asks.

“Yeah. He’s got a little boyfriend since primary school.”

“Charles is not my boyfriend,” Max mumbles.

“Oh yeah? Then why’s he been snogging you for ten years now?”

“That’s not—” Max tries to explain, but then stops. Really, what reasonable explanation could he give? That the kisses are just for when it’s his birthday? That they started the tradition when they were just kids, barely six years old, and had stuck with it ever since just because? There was no explanation Max could come up with which didn’t sound childish.

Max feels the heat crawl up his neck and spread on his face. The boys start laughing as George makes another unfunny joke. He quietly slides into his seat instead. They’ll shut up eventually, and Max will deal with it. 

The classes go by in a blur, voices pouring in and back out of Max’s ears. And then at lunch, he sees him.

Charles is standing by their usual cafeteria table with a big smile on his face and a gift very poorly hidden under the benches. Max can see the crumpled, light blue tissue paper sticking out the top and he can’t help but smile back.

“Happy birthday!” Charles immediately pulls Max into a hug. It feels just right to Max, getting hugged by Charles like this. This is what he’s needed all day.

“Oh look, there’s Verstappen and his boyfriend .”

He hears the snickers again and feels his arms tighten. Reluctantly, he pushes Charles away. It comes off as odd to Charles, but he doesn’t say anything.

“So. How’s your day been so far?”

Absolutely awful. “Been okay.”

“Are you excited for later this evening?”

“Why? What’s this evening?”

“I’m coming over to your house with cake, silly. We’ll celebrate your birthday like we always do.”

“Oh. Yeah. Okay.”

Charles doesn’t seem satisfied with that answer. Brows pinched in worry, he asks again, “Are you really okay? Is something bothering you?” His hand comes to rest on Max’s thigh and, God, physical contact was the last thing Max needed from Charles. Because now, the tears are threatening to spill over. 

“No, I’m fine,” Max lies in a choked voice. 

“No, you’re not, Max.” Max lowers his head to hide away but Charles doesn’t let up. He goes to hold Max’s hands, but Max pulls away on contact. It is then that he hears the muffled laughs from across the hall.

“Come on, let’s go somewhere else.”

Charles doesn’t offer to hold his hand, Max just follows him outside. 

“Will you tell me what’s bothering you now? Please?”

Max is trying very hard not to cry. He hates crying. It’s one of the worst feelings he can experience. But his throat hurts and his eyes are burning and Charles has started to look a little blurry.

“Max, please? I promise nothing you say will sound ridiculous to me.”

Ah, damn it. “It was George.”

“George? What did he do?”

“He…umm.” Max wonders whether he should tell Charles. Sure, Charles said he won’t find this ridiculous, but, what if he does? What if he thinks Max is a loser for being so affected by what a boy in his class said about the both of them? What if he stops wanting to be Max’s friend because he doesn’t like being thought of as Max’s boyfr—

“Max.”

Max looks up. “George was making fun of…of us.”

Charles blinks. “Us?”

“Of the…the tradition we have. The birthday kisses.”

“Oh.”

Max wipes a falling tear from his cheek. “He was making fun of us, calling you my boyfriend. And all his friends started laughing and it just—” Max sighs. “I tried really hard not to let it get to me, I did. I know I shouldn’t be crying over something so stupid but—” Max pauses to take a breath and realises that he’s started crying. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cry.”

“Hey, no.” Charles immediately pulls him into a hug. “You don’t apologise for crying. Ever. You hear me?” 

Max nods, but the tears don’t stop immediately. Charles, noticing this, continues to talk.

“You don’t need to pay attention to anything George says. He’s just bitter. I bet he doesn’t have anyone who wants to kiss him and that’s why he’s so jealous of you.”

That earns a little chuckle from Max. They stand in the silence for a few seconds before Charles asks,

“Do…umm…do you want your kisses for this year?”

The hesitance in his voice is brought on by Max’s reaction to George’s words. Sure, it’s not a big deal to him. But if Max it affected Max enough for him to be this upset over it then, maybe there’s a chance he doesn’t want to do this anymore.

Which is fine. They’ve had, what, ten years of this silly little tradition? It’s probably best if they stop it soon. They’re gonna be going off to college in like three years’ time. That’s too old to be maintaining such childish—

“Yes.”

Charles blinks. “Yes?”

“Yeah. I—I mean if you still want to.”

Charles nods. “I do want to, yes.”

“Okay.”

One, on the left; Two, on the right. Three , on his left; Four , right. Five , left; Six , right. Seven , left; Eight , right. Nine , left; Ten , right. Eleven , on the left cheek; twelve on the right. Thirteen , left; fourteen , right. Now all that was left was fifteen.

Odd numbered kisses go on the tip of the nose, at least that has been the case for years past.

But this time, Charles hesitates.

He’s still holding Max’s face in his hands, but his gaze is a little different this time.

Max watches his eyes dart once, twice, thrice, down towards Max’s lips.

Oh.

Well.

Max’s heart jackhammers in his chest. Could this be it? His first kiss? He’s never really thought about Charles in that way. Sure, they’ve been friends for years, but, kissing him? 

He catches Charles’ eyes on his for a brief moment before the other boy turns away. Max begins to mentally prepare himself for the kiss.

But the kiss never comes.

The odd-numbered kiss lands where it always has. On the tip of his nose. Max doesn’t know why he feels so disappointed.

“Happy birthday,” Charles says with a tight-lipped smile before walking away.

Sixteen

Max has been thinking about that ‘almost kiss’ for a year now.

Every time Charles comes over, every time Max sees him at school, every time they talk, Max wonders what it would’ve been like if Charles had kissed him that day. He hasn’t brought up the almost-kiss since that day, and neither has Charles, but it’s been on his mind ever since.

It took him two months of wrestling with his thoughts to realise that yes, Max does want Charles to kiss him and yes , Max does like him a little more than he would like a friend.

He then spends another month after this realisation worrying about the consequences of this discovery about his feelings on his and Charles’ relationship. 

What if Charles doesn’t feel the same? If Max tells him how he feels, will Charles stop being friends with Max? No. Max won’t be able to bear that. Charles is his closest friend. If he lost him then…

No. 

He’s just not going to think about it. If he ignores it long enough, the feeling will go away.

But now the Earth has been around the sun once more and Max’s feelings have not disappeared.

When the clock strikes twelve on his birthday, Max sends out a quiet wish before going back to sleep.

—

“Max!”

He immediately gets enveloped in a hug on opening the front door.

“How are you feeling now? I hope you can have cake.”

Ah. Right.

The thought of going to school and having to act normal while Charles gave him his yearly kisses was so daunting that Max faked a cold and stayed in. He should've known better than to think that Charles would just leave him alone on his birthday.

“Yeah. Feeling better,” Max says as he closes the door. Charles pops into the kitchen to keep the cake in the fridge for the time being. He greets Max’s Mama, who greets him with a hug. She asks Charles about his day, he says that he missed Max, and his Mama gives Max a look that seems to say, See how much he cares about you, darling . Max looks away.

Charles runs upstairs ahead of Max, deciding not to wait for him. They’ve been in each other’s houses enough anyway that no one really bats an eye.

When Max enters the room, Charles is sitting on his bed, and the carefree smile from earlier is gone. He shifts in place like he’s psyching himself up for something.

“Everything okay?”

“Yep.” Charles pulls a gift bag out from behind him. “For you.”

Gift bags in Charles’ hands are not uncommon. Max should know, seeing that he has received quite a few over the years. But the rest have all been bigger in size. This one however, is smaller. With some suspicious looking foil-lettering on the front.

“What’s this?” Max asks. The handles are made of silky, dark blue ribbon.

“It’s your birthday present, what else?” Charles answers with a smile.

“The bag is smaller.”

“Yes.”

“It looks…fancier.”

“Mhmm.”

“Charles,” Max says slowly, “what did you get me?”

Charles rolls his eyes with a groan. “Would you stop being so dramatic? It’s nothing you need to worry about. Just open it.”

Max doesn't believe him. “Charles, what did you get me?”

“You'll find out as soon as you open the bag, Max.”

Max peers into the bag. Hidden under thin paper strips of different shades of blue is a box. Max pauses again. Charles can't take it anymore.

“Maximillian, if you don't—”

“Not my name—”

“—open your present right now —”

“—it looks like a jewellery box!”

“Okay, and?” Charles huffs and pulls Max by his wrist onto the bed. “Open it, will you?”

Max pulls the box out and slowly opens it. Inside are two silver chains: one with a tiny blue pendant, the other with a matching tiny red one.

“Charles.”

“Do you like it?”

Max picks up the necklace with the blue pendant. “These are…”

“Matching necklaces,” Charles finishes the sentence. “You like them, right?”

He looks at Charles, who’s nervously chewing on his bottom lip, worried that Max wouldn’t like his present. As if.

“I love it. Really, I do. But, Charles, you didn’t have to do this.”

“It’s your birthday, Max,” Charles states.

“I know, but this must’ve been expensive. I…I can’t accept—”

“Will you stop worrying for two seconds?" How could Max not worry? “My parents helped me get it for you. It’s a present from all of us.

Max feels something like a stone lodged in his throat. “But, why?”

Charles looks at him like he just asked the most stupid question in existence.

“Because we love you, you idiot. Why else?”

And, it’s not like Max didn’t know. He of course has always felt the love from Charles and his family. It’s the physical reminder of the love that’s getting to him.

“Do you wanna wear them?”

 The pendant hides just under Max's t-shirt, same with Charles' necklace. They fit so well side by side. Charles takes a picture of them to send to his mother.

“Maman is going to love this.”

The feelings Max has been trying to ignore start to bubble up ferociously inside him, threatening to spill over.

He looks at Charles, studies his frame while he happily taps away on his phone texting his parents. 

“Charles?”

He tears his eyes away from his phone. “Yeah?”

“Do I get my birthday kisses too?”

Charles' mouth falls open a little like he wasn't expecting the question and Max wonders for a second if maybe he shouldn't have said anything.

“Oh. Yeah, sure. You…umm…you want them now?”

Max takes in a breath and nods. Charles puts his phone away and brings his hand up to cup Max's face. But when Charles leans in to kiss his cheek, he stops him.

“What's wrong?” 

This is the part Max has been practicing for almost a year, yet, he finds it hard to get the words out.

“Max?”

Right, well, here goes nothing.

“Can you kiss me, Charlie?”

Charles lets out a confused laugh. “I was already going to do that.”

“No, I meant—” Come on, Max. Out with it already . “I meant, can you kiss me kiss me.” Close enough.

It takes a moment for Charles to realise what exactly Max is asking. His lips fall into an ‘o’ shape as his brain recallibrates itself.

“You—um, like a proper kiss?”

Max slowly nods.

“On the lips?”

Max really cannot control the blush spreading on his face now.

“It's okay if you don't—”

“No!” Charles interrupts him, and Max feels his heart start to sink.

“Oh. That's oka—”

“No, no, fuck , that's not what I meant.” Charles is starting to look more like how Max does now. He has the same red flush on his cheeks and he's stumbling through his sentences.

“I mean, yes, I do want to kiss you. If you…if you want to.”

Max can't help the smile coming on his face. He's known the boy for upwards of ten years now, but he swears he's never adored him more.

“I do want to,” Max says.

Charles grins wide, then he leans in.

As far as first kisses go, Max would say this is one of the best.

Max feels like he's floating. He runs his hand up Charles' chest and cradles his chin, angling their faces closer together. He feels it everywhere, from the top of his head down to the tips of his fingers. 

When Charles pulls away, he whispers, “One.”

Max feels like he's on fire. He takes a second to catch his breath, which is hard when he's staring right into Charles' eyes. They look like rings of hazel surrounding a pool of black. Max wonders how he managed all these years without feeling like this.

“Was it good?”

Charles' eyes are searching Max for any sign of discomfort. He's always been this way, always making sure Max is alright. Fuck, Max might be a little in love with him.

“I don't know,” Max says. “I might need fifteen more to make sure.”

He throws his arms around Charles' neck as he smiles into the next kiss.

Twenty-eight 

Sometimes Max thinks he has four cats—Jimmy, Sassy, Donut, and Charles.

He's sitting on the couch, trying to read his book peacefully, when Charles' head pops up from under the book, startling him.

“Jesus Christ, Charles.”

Charles giggles like the little menace he is.

“What do you want?”

“I think you know what I always want, mon cher ,” Charles replies with some highly suggestive eyebrow wiggles.

Max groans very insincerely as he pushes Charles off his lap. “You're an insatiable man.”

Charles sits up but still leans right against Max, much like all of their cats do. “Well then you should stop being irresistible.”

Max rolls his eyes to try and hide the colour rushing to his face. Twelve years of dating and Max still can't take any compliments without turning into a ripe tomato.

“So, I was thinking,” Charles says as he traces lines up and down Max's arm. This is maybe the one thing that separates Charles from the cats. While the cats occasionally leave Max alone, Charles, for some reason, needs to be touching Max at all possible times. 

“What were you thinking?”

“Seeing as it is your birthday today, I believe we are yet to celebrate it.”

“If I remember correctly, we celebrated like two hours ago when I was barely awake, schat .” Max tries not to replay the events of the morning in his head just but alas, he remembers. 

Charles giggles. “Yes, mon amour, I remember that. But I'm not talking about sleepy morning birthday-sex—which, by the way, is not the only birthday sex you're getting today.”

Max shakes his head laughing. “Insatiable, I tell you.”

“Yeah, yeah. But what I meant was that we still haven't done our tradition.”

Max is still confused. “What tradi—oh.”

The birthday kisses, of course.

Well, today Max is turning…

“Charles, I cannot possibly sit through twenty-eight kisses?”

Charles pouts, cocking his head to the side in a way that makes him look like when Leo or Nino are asking for treats. “You sat through twenty-seven kisses last year.”

“Yeah, because you gave them to me during sex. You seriously can't expect me to sit here while you kiss me twenty eight fucking times?”

“Well, I was a little distracted this morning because the way you look every morning makes my dick jump like crazy in my pants—”

“You've got such a way with words, schat .”

“Why, thank you. Are you swooning?” Charles asks with the most mischievous of grins, the one he gets when he knows he's being a little shit.

“Yes. I am melting,” Max replies in the most deadpan voice. 

“Yes, so. Seeing as I was distracted this morning and I simply cannot wait till our session later this afternoon—”

“You've already scheduled it? —”

“—to give you your kisses, I believe I should kiss you now.”

Max stares at the man currently sitting halfway in his lap. Sometimes Charles can be quite unbelievable. Luckily, it's always in the positive sense.

“If I say no, will you leave me alone?”

Charles shakes his head like a child. “Nope.”

“Well, if I must ,” Max aggressively rolls his eyes, like the act of being kissed by his boyfriend is such a chore.

Charles grins like a cat before crowding Max and caging him on the couch. 

“You've got nowhere to gooo,” Charles teases, nosing down the side of Max's neck before pressing a light kiss there. “One.” Max feels his breath hitch and fuck , why was he acting like he didn’t like this?

By the time they get to kiss number twenty-eight, Max is panting under Charles, begging him to get a move on, and Charles’ planned afternoon session gets preponed to mid-morning.