Work Text:
Charles sighed and he let the cold river rush over his clay-caked hands. The day had been long and the only thing he wished for was to return to his home and rest, but after a long day of pottery, he needed to scrub his hands raw. His callouses scratched his sore arms, catching on the clay dried in the hairs. On busy days like this, even his nose twitched from dust clogging his nostrils.
Recently, an influx of demand had called for Charles to work from dawn till dusk. Many of the wealthy businessmen who moved to Alexandria from surrounding cities wanted traditional Greek pottery. No doubt wanting to appease the wealthy traders and other businessmen that flocked to the city. Even in this age, appearance to others mattered, in a time far distanced from hyper-interconnectedness. Charles had seen it all before, he just rolled his eyes, not letting the disdain for greed fill his waking thoughts.
Charles picked under his fingernails, scrubbing and scraping in the crevices of his hand. The cool water settled the burning sensation from his aggressive cleaning. He looked at the sky, the stars twinkled and a smile slipped onto his face. He stayed in a crouch trying to name as many constellations as he could until his calves burned.
He stood shakily and made his way down the dusty path to his home. His walls were plain, a lack of art and other decor was apparent, a few books stacked in corners, and chipped pottery pieces sat at the edges of the hall. Many friends and acquaintances he’d invited over had commented on it, the lack of personality. Charles made enough money through his ceramic work that he should be able to afford paintings and good wine. Charles only waved off the comments.
He knew that material possessions were not important. He spent his extra money making food for the families that barely made ends meet. Throughout all the lives he had lived, he had learned that helping others should always come first. Material possessions didn’t follow you through death, but memories did.
Unlike everyone else though, there was something, someone, that followed Charles through death. Charles only wondered when the other would catch up to Charles. Charles thought of warm arms, dancing to gentle singing, and all-encompassing love.
Charles tucked his sandals into the corner of his room, shimmying into his sleepwear. He reached for a small pot of balm, hydrating his dry, cracked hands, sighing as he knew he would need to get more tomorrow. He slowly tucked himself into his bed. He let his body rest and mind relax. The serenity of the night washing over him as he feels the sweet release of sleep about to come.
Then he hears knocking on the door. His eyes shoot open and anger shoots through him. He gets up and stomps to the door, eager to see who needs him, and immediately send them off. He would always help someone who needed it, but after such a draining day, his patience was thinner than silk. As soon as the door is open, his agitation is washed away by waves of adoration. He is overcome with an urge to crush the burly body in front of him with a hug.
Instead, Charles rolls his eyes and says, “Hello, Max.”
Max glided around the outskirts of the ballroom, ignoring the scathing look of his father, a pompous Duke who insisted on attuning Max to his large network of other powerful rich men. Max had avoided them for years, slowly allowing his father of this life to introduce him to others as he grew older, but every once in a while, like now, Max escaped. Max slipped around a gaggle of young children and walked into a deserted hallway. He could hear the buzzing of talking people from halls over, but he tried to tune it out. He watched the serene English countryside lit up by dim lamps along the dirt path.
His current life as the son of a Duke was lavish, but as usual, the absurdities of rich people were astounding. In this era, the trends of the rich were out of bounds and escaped Max’s aged mind. Not only that, but Max had lived lives in numerous cultures, many of which ardently oppose this lifestyle and beliefs. He knew better by now, maybe in one of his first few lives he would have indulged and found it all fun. Max remembers being especially indulgent and courageous in the handful of lives following the realization he would never truly die. Now it was just ostentatious bullshit.
Max sat on one of the velvet cushioned benches of one of the many homes his father owned that he would one day own.
Max hadn’t yet met Charles but he could sense it would be soon. It felt like ages since he had last seen his other half. They always met in every single life, no matter what. Sometimes they were young, toddlers or school children, and sometimes they were old and wrinkled, barely able to walk on their own. Sometimes they changed gender, were horribly scarred, had different names, or were a different race. But they would always meet, and they would always know who the other was. There had not been a life where they hadn’t been together. It had always been that way, Max wasn’t sure where they ended and where they began, they just were. There had been many times when he and Charles would look to the stars, placing bets on when their original life began.
Max’s thoughts stilled and he was pulled back to reality as he listened to the metal clanking and shudders of a cart. He listened to the soft murmurs of servers, stressed about food and drinks and utensils. He listened as what sounded like a group hurried the opposite way of the hallway Max was sitting in. Then after all the bustle was gone, he listened to a single pair of footsteps walking his way.
Wisps of irritation fizzled in his gut. Old excuses lingered in his mind and Max’s shoulders slumped as he tried to decide which one to use. His body tensed as he suddenly felt a small hand on his back.
“Max,” And it was all he needed. He spun around, leaning down to pick Charles off his feet. He spun in circles and he held Charles to his chest, squeezing his soulmate tight. The other boy's heat warmed his chilled heart, a sense of relief left him dazed. He listened to Charles’ soft laughter and carefully set him down.
“It’s been too long.”
“It always is.”
Charles sighed into the crook of Max’s shoulder and they sat down on the bench. They held onto one another desperately, wrapped in one another’s arms. And because Max couldn’t help it, “Maybe one day we will reincarnate as immortals.”
“This conversation again,” He sighed, but there was no annoyance, just fondness in his voice, “We basically are immortal, Darling.”
Max chuckled and went silent. They looked out upon the landscape, just enjoying each other's embrace. Fireflies were alight in the field like stars. Max gently shrugged off his overcoat, the summer humidity trapped in the house overwhelming Max. He tossed his jacket to the floor next to him, and he pulled Charles closer to him again.
“Who are you in this life, Charles?” He hated to break their peace, but he really did need to know. Max had a lot of power in this life, and he would use it in order to keep Charles by his side.
Charles hummed, closing his eyes, “My name is Harold, I am thirteen and currently working as a server to pay off my parents’ debts.”
Max hummed back, he could work with that, “You’ll stay with me?”
“Of course.”
That would always be the answer. Charles would stay with Max, and Max with Charles. Even if they had other people they loved, parents and grandparents and friends, they would always choose each other first. Of course, they cherished most of the parents they had in their various lives, but the other half of their soul always came first.
The music from the other room, paused for a moment before a new song played. As soon as the pair heard the beat, their eyes crinkled and they nudged each other. Charles snorted and commented with a warm tone, “Do you remember dancing to this song..”
“At our wedding. You were so handsome in that life, Charles.” Max poked fun, enjoying the way Charles playfully slapped his shoulder.
“And you were stunning in that lehenga, it was a bit scandalous for the guests though. Not as scandalous as our age gap in that life though. I did enjoy the landscape though, weddings in India are usually enjoyable.”
Max hummed in response, listening as their song ended. There was a longer break in the music than before, but as soon as another song ricocheted through the halls, Max knew what he had to do. Max sighed dramatically and stood on the lanky legs of his seventeen-year-old body, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to dance with me.”
He kept his voice posh, like his father spoke, only grinning at Charles' exasperated expression, “I suppose if you demand it so.”
It was easy for them to hold onto one another. They slowly danced around the empty hallway, listening to the loud music from halls over. They lingered in one another's presence, it was like their hearts were caught in honey, too sticky and sweet to ever leave.
Charles pounded his hands on Max’s legs, “Come on! Let's just try and look at least!”
Max sat up, her face scrunched and she moved to her knees. Max adjusted the long skirt Charles insisted she wore when the two were getting ready in their apartment. The skirt of course matched the ones Charles also wore. It was one of the few things, their matching outfits that fueled the rumors in their apartment building that she and Max were lesbians and dating each other. Of course, the rumors were true, but people really needed to mind their own business.
“No, Charlie, it's only the 90’s,” Max sighed, “Iced coffees aren’t popular yet. You’ll have to wait another decade or so. Or better yet make your own.”
Charles rolled her eyes, “Yeah, but we live in New York in this life. I’m sure we could find some somewhere. And I don’t want a brewed iced coffee, I want an iced latte. With espresso.”
Max gave her a blank look. Charles watched Max turn and shuffle in her bag, grabbing a barrette. She brushed her hair behind her ear and wagged the barrette at Charles.
“If you pin my hair back cute, then I’ll think about walking aimlessly around the city and hurting my feet for this pointless endeavor.”
Charles’ face broke into a grin and she snatched the accessory from Max’s hand. She shuffled around Max and began her work. She put the barrette between her lips and braided a small portion of Max’s long red hair.
She listened to Max’s comment as the other woman people-watched. As soon as she finished the first braid she handed the end to Max to hold, the other woman didn’t stop talking during that moment, continuing to judge. Charles started a small braid on the other side.
“It's just that if that man thinks he is going to pull anyone with such obvious sweat stains, wait, oh my gosh!” Charles grabbed her partner's head, keeping the girl in place so she didn’t ruin all of Charles’ hard work, “Isn’t that one of our other lives?”
Charles hummed, quickly finished the braid and grabbed the braid Max held then took the pin from between lips, and clipped it all together. She glanced at where Max was looking. She leaned onto her partner's shoulder. The beads of Charles’s box braids clinked together, and it soothed Max’s petulance at seeing someone she despised.
“I mean, we look barely a year old, but I definitely remember my mother from that life, the cunt, and that is definitely her,” Disdain oozed from her lips as Charles looked at his old mother. It had been a few lifetimes since she’d lived with her, but she could remember the slamming of doors and overbearing presence.
“You just don’t like her because she banned me from the house for a few years after catching us in the act,” Max turned and grinned mischievously, “Which didn’t you do the same thing when you caught that girl with our kid a few lives ago?”
She groaned, “Don’t remind me. That girl always stole from us anyway. Also! I didn’t like that mom because she always surprise drug-tested me.”
Max shoved Charles’ shoulder and stood, “Didn’t you want to look for iced coffee?”
“I want an iced latte, know the difference, but yes. I do want to go look for one.” She grasped the other girl's hand, ignoring the judgemental looks from people around them. Charles didn’t care if people hated her, she would endure it if it meant being around Max.
Max hated this more than anything. War. Fighting. He hastily shoveled the rations into his mouth, doing his best not to focus on the slimy texture. Max felt drained, properly drained. Watching people die because of the mindless, greedy actions of others.
He hadn't met Charles yet in this life. He and Charles knew about World War Two from the farther-along lives they had lived. He remembers sitting next to Charles in a middle school class in their all-girls Catholic school listening to one of the sisters teach them about the tragic war only a mere twenty years prior. He nearly rolls his eyes thinking about how that sister had later gone off on a tangent about how if only the soldiers had known God, they would have survived. What a load of shit.
Max rolled his shoulders and sat up, he could hear a faint laughter coming closer. His unit had transitioned from the front lines farther back, but outright laughing in this setting was horrendous. Max listened as his fellow soldiers got closer to their camp. The gravel crunching under their feet made Max’s shoulders raise, back tensing.
Tentatively, he watched them approach, clearly drunk and appearing to be dragging someone. Dread settled in his stomach as he caught sight of a blotchy red, terrified face, the uniform of the French soldiers covering their body. As soon as they made eye contact, Max knew he was looking into Charles’s teary eyes. His squad mates joked around, pushing and kicking to keep Charles on the ground where they had dropped him. One of them grabbed Max’s shoulder.
“Look what we got, Andrew! We can have a little fun tonight!”
“Yeah?” Max’s voice was shaky, scared and reluctant, as he questioned the others.
“Found ‘im all alone and he’s pretty. We’ll just ‘ave to dump ‘im after.”
“Haven’t had a good fuck since before being shipped out here, man. This is gonna be great.”
Max wasn’t breathing, looking at Charles’ petrified face, wishing he was anywhere but where he was. What was he supposed to do? He felt like he wasn’t in his body as the group continued to kick Charles around, nosing his clothes with their boots. Max glanced to his right, spotting his gun just a few feet away. Max finally felt himself snap back into reality as he watched one of them kneel on the ground between Charles’ legs and try to pull his pants down.
“You can’t just do that.” One of them grabbed his shoulder tightly.
“It’ll be good, Andrew, just give it a try.” Max ripped himself out of the other man’s grip. He stormed forward, about to rip the man away from Charles when he was pulled back and held by two other guys. He tried to rip himself free but they didn’t budge, instead kicking his legs and sides. They held onto him as the other one continued to assault Charles. Max closed his eyes, and sank to his knees, unable to listen to his soulmate's screams of pain.
“Max, please help me, please please please!” He could feel the pain of his captor's boots against him as he broke free listening to his other half cry out for him in French.
Slowly the noises stopped, and Max’s shoulders became free. He felt like jelly watching the assaulter zip up his pants, the other two talking about which one would have Charles next. He felt the horrid looks given to him, he felt the smugness of his squadmates as he stared blankly into Charles’ lifeless eyes.
He slowly slunk back, quietly crawling back and reaching out until he felt cold metal underneath his fingers. He raised his gun and shot. He shot each of his squadmates repeatedly, over and over until they stopped twitching. Then he dropped his gun.
He stumbled to Charles, kicking away the dead body of the man who thought he was going to take Charles next. Then he knelt on the ground picking up Charles top, squeezing his soulmate's arm as the other man grasped onto him tight. He carefully grabbed the belt of Charles' pants and gently pulled them back up. He whispered sweet nothings into his lover’s ear as he did so, feeling tears soak into his shirt. A river of blood slowly met Max’s pants, the clothing now sticking uncomfortably to his skin.
“Max. I hate this life. I hate this. I don’t want to live this anymore,” There was a brief pause and Max knew exactly what was coming, “Can you please take us somewhere else. Please. It hurts too bad.”
Max steeled himself and felt up the leg of Charles's cargo pants, grabbing the small knife in the French Soldier’s pocket.
“I will see you soon, in the next life, my Dearest. I love you.”
“I will see you soon.” There were no other words shared between the two. Nothing could ease the agony that settled over the camp like a ton of snow.
Max kissed his love’s temple, quickly and smoothly slashing his soulmate’s neck. He held Charles as the life left his body. Max lovingly, gently set his body on the ground and crawled to lay next to him. Then, Max took the knife to his own neck. The last thing he sees is Charles’ peaceful face.
Max watched Charles knit from her spot further down on the couch. Her wife was currently knitting another blanket to add to the growing pile that they were meant to bring to the grandkids. They forgot, long story short, they just walked out the door without the blankets because they were arguing about what type of cake they would have after dinner. Classic.
So now Max watched her wife angrily knit while reruns of Keeping Up With The Kardashians played in the background.
The couple had just celebrated their 68th anniversary in this life, which was definitely one of the longer anniversaries they got to celebrate. They had only been married for part of the 68 years since they had married as soon as their country made it legal. Not that they particularly cared, they loved each other despite that.
They were just grateful they had gotten to marry in this life. The life just before, Max had been a baby Charles adopted. It had been difficult being a single parent raising the love of your life, but they had experienced weirder and worse things.
Max huffed, trying to draw Charles' attention, but her love didn’t even twitch. She huffed again, and again, and again.
And finally, “What the fuck do you want, you oaf!”
Max smiled, “Oh nothing, just wanted to say I love you.”
Charles gave a scrutinizing look her way, then love melted through her face, “I love you too. But I still wish you would have gone with my choice. Death by chocolate cake would have been a much better option than red velvet.”
Max sighed. The things she experienced for love.
Charles grunted as he got out of his kart, his hair stuck to his forehead. His small hand fumbled to unbuckle his helmet so the adults could reset the track for the next round of children who were no doubt waiting impatiently.
Charles sighed as he felt a tap on his shoulder. His small child body was sweating in his race suit, and he wasn’t in the mood to make any friends as a child in this life. It was always exhausting being an adult befriending children, even if he was in a child’s body. It was endearing watching the innocence and pure joy of children up close, but he also needed intelligent conversation. But as usual, he would have to wait at least another decade for that.
He turned around with an annoyed look on his face, but it quickly disappeared when he saw who it was. He smiled.
“Hi, Charles.”
“Hi, Max.”
Charles grinned at Max, a mischievous look on his face. Max smiled at him, wrapping his arms tighter around Charles’ body. Then teens were curled up in Charles’ room after a long weekend of racing. They were celebrating Charles’ Formula 2 victory. They had just finished dinner with Charles’ family and retreated to his room. As much as Charles loved his family in this life, they had really grown on him like vines, he wanted to spend time with his romantic love much more.
Charles cupped Max’s face in his hand and pulled him in for a slow kiss. He felt Max’s lips smile against his as the other teen moved to kiss all over his face. He giggled and pushed Max away, “I can’t believe I get to race against you next year.”
“I can believe it. My talented, passionate, kind, beautiful,” Charles rolled his eyes, grinning. He leaned in and kissed Max again. This life was kind to them, leading them together so young and allowing them much happiness in racing and being together so often. The ease of living had turned Max softer than he usually was, resulting in his serenading Charles whenever he could. Partly Max wanted to show Charles love, but partly because he wanted to embarrass his partner.
“I can’t wait to race against the love of my lives. This is most definitely one of the better lives we’ve lived. So much more fun.” The two spoke to each other in Japanese, not risking letting anyone understand their words. It was a language they perfected when Max had been a Geisha, and Charles a scientist researching abroad, “I can’t wait for our wedding.”
“Only a month away,” Max hummed.
“Are you getting nervous?” Charles smirked. Max shook his head, then Charles burst out laughing, “Do you remember that one life when we were from enemy tribes and our tribemates started fighting during the ceremony.”
Max sighed, “That was horrible. Your tribe had that tradition, remember, that the woman shaved her head before marrying. I had to cut off all my hair! And the humidity! Don’t get me started!”
Charles listened to Max whine and got off the bed, “Some of the more memorable lives were definitely lived in South America. Do you remember that one life, you know? When you were pregnant and had to, you know?”
Charles wiggled his eyebrows and held out his hands as Max hurled a pillow at him. The other teen yelled in outrage. He squealed as Max came up behind him and tossed Charles over his shoulder. Max threw Charles on the bed and hovered above him, tickling Charles’ side and the teen howled with laughter.
“What are you two doing in there?” They froze and looked at each other with mirthful eyes.
“Nothing Mama!” His voice squeaked as he responded and Max silently laughed above him.
“It better be nothing. Your door better be open next time I come down the hall!”
“Yes, Mama!”
They listened to the woman walk back down the hall, barely able to suppress their laughter.
“Go fuck yourself!” Charles flipped Max off as he walked away. Cameras snapped as he crossed the paddock, ready to retreat into the Ferrari garage. Of course, he didn’t have any real anger towards Max, maybe a bit of annoyance about the race, but mostly Charles just enjoyed riling up the media.
He and Max had been labeled rivals by the media as soon as Charles finished his first lap of Formula One. Apparently, the pair had a rivalry going back to their times karting as children that followed them to F1. Charles thought it sounded pretty epic, Max mostly rolled his eyes and grumbled about it. Charles just leaned into the ‘rivals’ act, laughing as new videos and articles came out about his and Max’s heated interactions on and off the track. It's not like anyone, besides Charles’ mom and brother and Max’s mom and sister, knew they had been married for years.
He zoned in as he felt a hand on his shoulder, “They are going to light you up for that one, love.”
As Charles turned he could see Carlos and multiple other drivers shaking their heads, looking over at the pair as Max halted Charles. Charles smirked and looked into Max’s eyes.
He whispered back in an ancient language they had lived with, one of the few languages they could use in a paddock full of polyglots, “It will be so funny going on Twitter after this though.”
Max huffed and made sure to keep the aggressive whispering act going, “You better not send me a million videos, Charles.”
“You know I will.” Charles shoved Max’s hand off his shoulder and stormed into his garage.
Charles raised his eyebrows in surprise as his fellow drivers welcomed themselves into his home. Light from the skylight brightened the penthouse he shared with Max. Max was thankfully not home, his lover was at the grocery store picking out ingredients for dinner.
“So, um, what are you guys doing here?” He tried not to be awkward or harsh, but when his friends pushed their way into this apartment that his secret husband was going to be coming home to soon, he was a little peeved. He watched Pierre and Alex sort through the games for his and Max’s consoles, picking out which one to play.
“You haven’t responded to our messages the entire break. We had to come to check on you,” Carlos answered Lando’s legs over his lap. He didn’t know the brit well, but he could bet his left foot that he tagged along to be with Carlos. The two had been suspiciously close for a long while. Max and he had recognized the cues of a couple in secret, they’d lived so many lives, nothing could escape their sight. Carlos hummed, “And we also wanted to get together but none of us want to host, so here you are.”
“Speaking of,” George piped up. All the younger drivers grouped together like kicked puppies, Charles thought bitterly. He raised his eyebrows at the Mercedes driver, “Have you just been cooped up in this apartment the entirety of summer break?”
Charles answered bluntly, “Yes, happily.”
Charles slumped into his couch cushions, the cushions he and Max were supposed to be cuddled up on without anyone else around. He defeatedly watched the others sort through games. He couldn’t help himself as he picked up another controller and joined them. He hardly noticed when he began yelling at the TV, and arguing with the others.
The time ticked on without him realizing it until finally, he heard the door creaking open with a quick greeting in Vietnamese, “Babe, I’m home!”
“Love, you have to come see, I am destroying them in this game! Did you get the ice cream I wanted?” Charles yelled back. He ripped his view from the screen and watched Max walk into the living room with bags in his hands. A surprised look covered his face and Charles let out a string of curses in his head. He heard someone pause the game.
Max walked to the kitchen and set the groceries on the island before he spoke up, “What are you guys doing here?”
Alex was the first to respond, “We are here hanging out with our friend. What are you doing here?”
Max winced at the emphasis on ‘you’ and looked into Charles’s eyes. They had a silent conversation until Max finally spoke, “Well, I live here.”
Charles watched the other drivers’ expressions change from confused to more confused. He laughed as he added to Max’s statement, “We are married, why wouldn’t we live together?”