Chapter Text
Max held the long shopping list in his hand, sighing as he muttered. “This is going to take forever." Ahead of him, Charles was pacing back and forth, desperately trying to calm Oscar, who was cradled against his chest in a baby wrap. Oscar’s fussing was loud enough to attract a few looks from nearby shoppers, and Charles seemed close to his wits’ end. "Shh, come on, Oscar, please," he whispered, his tone a mix of frustration and exhaustion.
Max’s eyes drifted to the shelf as he checked two cartons of heavy cream, comparing expiration dates before setting them both back down. He glanced over to find Charles still pacing in the dairy aisle, bouncing slightly as he tried to soothe Oscar. With a bit of hesitation, Max asked, “Do you want to go back home? I can come back tomorrow and get everything we need.”
Charles shook his head immediately. “No, Max, we need food. The house is empty, and the party is next week,” he replied, casting a glance at the shopping list Max was holding.
Max looked down at Oscar, who had started whimpering louder, his little face turning a brighter shade of red with each passing minute. “We could always do this online,” Max suggested, shrugging. But he knew why Charles was insistent—Charles was a bit on edge from being cooped up with Oscar for weeks, and it was his first chance to get some errands done in person. But Oscar’s escalating fussiness didn’t make it easy.
Max glanced at Oscar, who was now red-faced and wailing, his cries echoing through the store aisles, making heads turn. Charles’ soothing efforts, usually so effective, were useless this time. He gently bounced Oscar, cooing softly, but the baby’s fussiness only grew louder. Charles’ own face was tense, showing how much he was struggling to keep calm as he tried to hush Oscar.
“Is there anything I can do?” Max asked quietly, feeling a bit helpless as he watched Charles.
Charles hesitated, glancing down at Oscar with an expression that was part exhaustion and part frustration. He finally looked back at Max, a little desperation in his eyes. “Do you think you could try to calm him down?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it too loudly might just unravel him. “I just… I don’t think I can right now.”
Max’s eyes widened slightly. It wasn’t often that Charles asked for help with Oscar. The baby had barely left Charles’ arms since they brought him home, and Max had gotten used to stepping back, letting Charles handle the soothing and settling. But seeing Charles this worn down, with Oscar’s cries piercing through his usual calm, Max nodded, feeling a mix of nerves and determination. “Alright,” he agreed, trying to sound more confident than he felt.
Charles took a deep breath, preparing to hand over the baby. He adjusted Oscar in the soft blue wrap, supporting the back of his head with one hand as he reached for the ties securing him to his chest. Slowly, Charles began to loosen the wrap, carefully unfastening each section with practiced fingers. Even through his frustration, there was a gentleness in the way he worked, as though he wanted to ease Oscar’s discomfort in every movement.
As he released the wrap, Oscar’s cries grew even louder, and Charles winced slightly, but he continued carefully, supporting Oscar’s little back and neck as he lifted him away from his chest. The baby squirmed and flailed, tiny fists curling in protest as his face scrunched in distress.
Max took a small step closer, holding out his arms as Charles leaned in, positioning Oscar just right before finally letting go. Max swallowed, feeling the weight of Oscar settle into his arms, heavier than he expected but fitting surprisingly well against his chest. Charles helped him adjust, gently guiding Max’s hands to support Oscar’s neck and back. “Just… hold him close,” Charles said softly, his voice tinged with exhaustion and hope.
Max stepped in closer as Charles adjusted his hands around Oscar, helping him support the baby’s head and back. Oscar’s cries grew more intense in Max’s arms, his tiny fists clutching Max’s shirt as if unsure of this unfamiliar feeling.
Max nodded, feeling a bit of a tremor in his hands as he cradled Oscar. Charles stepped back, giving Max a slight, encouraging nod. Max took a steadying breath, rocking gently from side to side, following what he’d seen Charles do countless times. It felt awkward and unfamiliar.
Max looked at Charles, who had leaned back against the wall, rubbing his forehead. He looked utterly drained, and Max could see why—between the sleepless nights and constant demands of a newborn, Charles looked like he was running on fumes. Being the main caregiver had clearly taken its toll on him, but he hadn’t complained.
He started patting Oscar’s back softly as he tried to soothe him, though he was painfully aware of how awkward he probably looked. The baby’s cries began to soften, though Oscar was still clearly on edge, letting out a few unhappy whimpers every few seconds.
Max realized the upcoming weeks were going to be an even bigger shift than he’d thought. Max would have to step up and care for Oscar, a responsibility he hadn’t fully grasped until now. But they’d discussed it together, deciding Max would take the unpaid leave despite the fact that he makes more money than Charles. But he had decided to use this chance to try and work on his father’s case, he will have more time and freedom, at the same time he will also be around to help Charles with Oscar.
Now, though, he could feel the weight of what lay ahead. Charles and Oscar already had this unspoken connection, and Max felt like he was still on the outside looking in, awkwardly trying to find his way. But he was determined. If these twelve weeks were going to be his, he’d make the most of it.
As he looked down, Oscar’s fussing began to soften, and he noticed the baby’s tiny eyes starting to flutter, comforted by the steady rhythm of Max’s rocking. He glanced back at Charles, who was watching with a look of quiet relief. It wasn’t much.
After a few moments, Max noticed Oscar’s little fists unclenching, Peering down, he saw Oscar blinking up at him, big brown eyes wide with curiosity, his gaze fixed on Max’s face as if he was trying to figure him out. The sight brought a faint smile to Max’s lips.
“It worked,” Charles murmured, his voice full of surprise and relief as he opened his eyes. “You actually managed to calm him down.”
Max nodded, keeping his voice low to avoid disturbing the newly found calm. “Yeah, seems like it,” he replied softly, almost to himself. He looked down at Oscar and couldn’t help but chuckle lightly as the baby stared up at him, his expression shifting from fretful to intrigued. “Good boy, Oscar,” he murmured, letting his voice be gentle and reassuring. “You’re a good boy, and you’re doing great.”
Oscar’s gaze remained fixed on Max, as if transfixed by the sound of his voice, and he reached out a tiny hand, grabbing onto Max’s shirt with surprising strength. The small gesture made Max’s chest swell with a mix of pride and wonder he hadn’t expected to feel.
After a moment, Max glanced back at Charles, who was watching the two of them with a faint smile, clearly relieved to have Oscar settled. Max gave him a quick nod, keeping his voice low. “Let’s try to get what we can,” he suggested, not wanting to push their luck with Oscar’s calm but eager to make the most of it.
Max and Charles made their way quickly to the pet section, Charles pushing the shopping trolley while Max cradled Oscar in his arms, carefully supporting the baby’s back and head. Every few steps, Max would glance down at Oscar, checking to see how he was doing. To his surprise, every time he looked, he found Oscar wide-eyed and alert, taking in the sights around him or gazing up at Max as though fascinated. Max chuckled softly, surprised at how alert he was for a five months old. He hadn’t expected so much personality in someone so little.
They reached the pet section, quickly picking out food for their cats and Leo, adding it to the growing collection in the cart. Oscar let out a soft coo, and Max instinctively bounced him gently. Charles shot a warm smile in their direction. "Looks like someone’s enjoying his first outing," he said with a quiet laugh.
From there, they moved to the produce section. Normally, they’d have gone to the farmers' market, but they were pressed for time, so they grabbed what they needed as quickly as possible. Max kept his attention split between Oscar and the task at hand, making sure his Oscar was comfortable and calm. So far, Oscar had behaved perfectly—an impressive feat for a baby on a grocery run.
Finally, they reached the baby section, where Charles tossed diapers and baby wipes into the cart before pausing by the baby food. He picked up a jar of apple sauce and another of carrot puree, examining them thoughtfully. “Do you think we should get the apple sauce or the carrot puree?” he asked, holding them both up for Max to see.
Max looked at him, a little surprised. “He’s allowed to have solid food? Didn’t Carlos say to wait until he’s six months?”
Charles nodded, then explained, “At our last visit, he actually said we could start now if we wanted.”
Max looked at both options before nodding thoughtfully. “All right, in that case I would prefer to prepare something fresh when we get back instead.”
Charles smiled, understanding. “You’re right; that would be better,” he agreed, putting the jars back on the shelf. Just as he did, Oscar started fussing again, his tiny face scrunching up as he prepared to cry. Charles chuckled, watching as Oscar’s gaze focused intently on the jars of baby food. Max grinned. “I think he doesn’t like that idea.”
Charles picked up both jars once again and held them up in front of Oscar. “Look, which one do you like?” he teased softly. Oscar’s eyes lit up as he reached out with his small hand, stretching eagerly toward the apple sauce. Both Max and Charles laughed, amused by his enthusiasm.
Charles placed the jars back on the shelf and leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Oscar’s forehead. “I love you,” he murmured to the baby. “I promise you we will prepare the most scrumptious apple sauce ever.”
It took them nearly two hours to finish shopping and check out, and by the time they were done, it was already 9 pm. Both Max and Charles were tired and hungry, their stomachs reminding them they hadn’t eaten since lunch.
Charles looked around, catching sight of a baby store nearby. “I wanted to check that shop,” he murmured, glancing over at Max. But then he looked down at Oscar, who was starting to fuss again, his tiny face scrunched with irritation. Oscar’s eyes were drooping, but he still looked restless. "It’s already past his bedtime. Maybe we should just head back," Max said, gently bouncing Oscar in his arms. "Looks like someone’s ready for bed, and he could probably use a fresh diaper and a bottle of milk, too.”
Charles nodded, running a hand over his hair as he stifled a yawn. “You’re right. It’s been a big night for him, and he’s done so well.” He gave Oscar’s cheek a gentle rub, smiling as the baby let out a small, tired yawn.
“Alright, let’s get home,” Max agreed, giving Oscar one last comforting bounce as they headed toward the car. The night felt peaceful as they loaded up, and despite their hunger, they couldn’t help but smile at how well they had managed their first big outing as a family.
---
The following week, Max was wrapped up in handing over his cases and tying up loose ends, getting ready for his paternity leave. Daniel and Lando weren't thrilled about his decision—they both thought it was unlike him, that it would be hard for him to step back—but Max knew he was making the right choice.
Balancing his active cases while working on his father’s case, not to mention trying to be present for both Charles and Oscar, was impossible. This leave was the best way forward. Ideally, he’d not only make progress on his dad’s case but, with any luck, he’d also start building a bond with Oscar, one he could see Charles had already formed. Charles has developed this natural, easy rhythm with Oscar that Max still feels outside of.
It’s been five weeks since they brought Oscar home, and Max feels like he’s still playing catch-up, still trying to understand Oscar’s routine and moods. Next week, when Charles goes back to work, he’ll be caring for Oscar full-time. Yet, he can count on one hand the times he’s properly held Oscar.
Charles is incredible with Oscar, so attentive and natural—it’s like he knows instinctively what Oscar needs at every moment. Max envies that ease and familiarity. He wants that connection too, but every time he tries to step in, Charles gently sidesteps his efforts, brushing him off with a reassuring, “It’s okay, I’ll take care of it.”
Charles’s quiet insistence on handling everything himself only amplifies Max’s doubts about his own ability to care for Oscar. Even last Sunday, when Charles needed to run an errand, he hadn’t left Oscar with Max. Instead, he’d called his father to babysit. Max had tried not to let it get to him, but it stung. It felt like confirmation of his own worst fear—that Charles didn’t believe he could handle being alone with Oscar.
And yet, Charles’s decision to return to work surprised him. Max is still processing the idea that, despite the doubts he’s convinced Charles must have actually trusted Max enough to leave Oscar in his care.
Two days ago, Oscar had gotten his vaccine, and almost immediately, a fever followed. Last night, Charles barely left his side, watching over him as he fussed and cried through the night. Max had tried to step in, insisting that he could take turns, but Charles had shut it down quickly, telling Max he needed rest because he had work in the morning.
Max didn’t like it, but Charles left no room for negotiation. Reluctantly, Max went to their room, but he couldn’t sleep, his ears straining to hear any sound from the nursery. He lay there, restless, as the hours passed, only easing a bit when Oscar’s cries finally settled. It was nearly dawn when he heard the quiet creak of the door as Charles finally slipped into bed, his exhaustion palpable even in the dark.
Like tonight—it was close to midnight, and he still hadn’t settled. Charles had been trying to get him down for two hours. Max had checked in on them twice already, only to be waved off by Charles, who claimed he had everything under control.
Max had been trying to sleep, but the sound of Oscar's cries was enough to keep him wide awake. He turned over in bed, pulling the pillow over his head, but it didn’t help. He could hear Charles’s soft, exhausted attempts to soothe Oscar from the nursery.
For the third time, Max dragged himself out of bed, his body heavy with fatigue. He wasn’t surprised to find Charles still pacing in the nursery, his movements slow, like each step took more energy than the last. Oscar’s cries filled the room, piercing and frantic, and Charles was doing everything he could, but Max could see the exhaustion weighing him down.
Charles hadn’t wanted his help. He had refused twice already, each time pushing Max away, insisting that everything was under control. But this time, Oscar wasn’t calming down, and Max could see how drained Charles was. He won’t take no for an answer.
"Charles," Max said gently, stepping into the nursery and leaning against the doorframe. He took in Charles’s disheveled appearance—his shirt rumpled and stained, his face tired and drawn. The sight of him looking so worn out twisted something in Max’s chest.
“I’m fine, Max," Charles replied, though his voice was far from convincing. "I’ve got it. He’ll calm down."
Max knew that wasn’t true. He couldn’t let Charles keep pretending like he didn’t need help. "Charles, you’re exhausted. You need help. I’m here. Let me take him," Max said, his voice firm but kind. He didn’t give Charles a chance to refuse again.
There was a moment of hesitation before Charles reluctantly held out Oscar to Max. Oscar was still crying, his tiny body wriggling in his father’s arms. Max gently took him, feeling the little one’s frantic movements and the warmth of his feverish skin. Oscar’s cries softened for a moment, but only for a brief second before he started up again, the sound sharp and piercing.
Max moved quickly, cradling Oscar as securely as he could. He didn’t care about the noise or the kicking feet—he needed to do something. Slowly, he walked into their bedroom, lying down on the bed. He pulled his shirt off, making skin-to-skin contact with Oscar, hoping the warmth would soothe him.
Oscar resisted at first, squirming and kicking, clearly too upset to calm down. But Max didn’t give up. He held him firmly but gently, patting his back rhythmically. It felt like hours, though Max knew it had only been minutes. Oscar cried, his tiny hands fisted, his legs kicking helplessly. But Max kept going. He whispered softly to him, feeling his chest rise and fall with each tiny breath. "You’re okay, little one. It’s alright.”
As the minutes passed, Max could feel Oscar starting to relax, the crying slowly shifting into soft whimpers. His little body wasn’t as stiff, and his breathing began to steady. Max adjusted him, making sure he was comfortable, his hands moving in slow, gentle circles on his back.
Bit by bit, Oscar's cries lessened, turning into soft, content little breaths and occasional hiccups. Max stayed there, holding him close, not caring how long it took. He kept whispering to him, offering quiet reassurances as Oscar’s small body settled against his chest. Finally, after what felt like forever, the whimpers stopped, and Max could feel the tiny rise and fall of Oscar’s chest as he fell asleep on him.
Max couldn’t help but smile, he laid there for a while, the weight of Oscar's tiny body still warming his chest. He didn’t want to move, not when everything felt so peaceful, but he knew he had to go look for Charles.
Gently, he maneuvered Oscar off of him, feeling the baby’s small, soft limbs shift and squirm as he carefully adjusted him in his arms. Max held Oscar close for a moment, his tiny body still warm and relaxed from sleep. His legs kicked a little as he was moved, but Max stayed calm.
With one hand cradling the back of Oscar’s head and the other gently supporting his body, Max slowly shifted him onto the bed. He laid the baby down on the soft sheets, adjusting him so that Oscar lay comfortably in the center of the bed, his small form nestled in the plushness of the blankets. Max made sure the covers were pulled up, just enough to tuck around Oscar’s tiny body without smothering him, his hands moving carefully over the baby to make sure he was cozy.
Max then took a step back, his gaze lingering on Oscar for a moment longer—he couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Oscar’s peaceful face, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest as he slept.
But then Max’s attention shifted. It had been a while since they came to the room and Charles didn’t join them, and with how exhausted he looked earlier, Max suspected Charles had fall asleep somewhere. With a soft sigh, he stood up, moving quietly across the room to make sure Oscar was settled before heading out. He walked to the door, his steps light as he left the room and moved down the hallway to search for Charles.
Max stepped quietly into the nursery, his eyes adjusting to the soft, dim glow from the nightlight. He frowned when he noticed Charles curled up on the floor beside the crib, asleep. His heart ached a little at the sight—Charles looked exhausted, his face peaceful yet worn.
Gently, Max knelt down beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Charles,” he whispered, giving him a light shake.
Charles’s eyes fluttered open, and for a brief second, he looked disoriented. Then, suddenly alert, he jerked up, looking around frantically, as if searching for something. “Oscar?” he muttered, panic flashing in his eyes.
Max caught his hand, his voice soft and reassuring. “He’s asleep in our room. I think he will sleep with us tonight.”
Charles exhaled, a mixture of relief and fatigue settling over him. He tried to push himself up, but Max held him gently in place. “Stay,” Max murmured. “We need to talk.” Charles looked at him, his shoulders drooping with tiredness, but he nodded in agreement.
Max sat down beside him on the floor, leaning back against the wall. For a moment, neither of them spoke, Finally, Max broke the silence. “Charles, why did you refuse to let me help you with Oscar earlier?”
Charles blinked, clearly taken aback, and then gave a small, tired smile. “Maybe I just have separation anxiety,” he joked lightly, his eyes crinkling as he tried to lighten the mood.
But Max didn’t smile. He held Charles’s gaze, waiting, his expression unwavering. Charles’s smile faded, and he sighed, dropping his gaze to his hands. “Max… I just didn’t want to bother you. You have been working all day, and I assumed you would want to rest. I thought… I thought it would be easier if I handled it.”
Max’s jaw tightened, and he shook his head. “No,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “That’s not how this works, Charles. In a week I will be the one in charge of taking care of Oscar, I want him to get used to me.”
Charles shifted slightly, glancing over at Max with a hesitant look. "I have been thinking about this. Maybe… maybe I shouldn’t go back to work yet," he said quietly, almost as if he was testing the waters. “I mean, maybe it would be better if I stayed home with Oscar for now, and you could keep working.”
Max felt a flare of irritation. “Charles, it’s already a done deal. I’ve worked things out with Lewis, signed the papers, and tied up my cases. This is happening.”
Charles hesitated, looking away as he gathered his thoughts. “I just… I don’t want him to get unsettled. He’s had enough change. And honestly, you know he’s used to me. I’ve been here with him, he’s comfortable. You know he’s going to need stability.”
Max felt his chest tighten at those words, a dull ache growing beneath the surface. Was Charles really suggesting he wasn’t fit to care for their son? It hit harder than he wanted to admit; he’d already been doubting himself, worrying he wouldn’t be a good enough father, that somehow he’d fell short. And hearing this from Charles… it felt like confirmation of his worst fears.
“Charles it sounds like you don’t trust me with him. You don’t think I can handle it?” he asked quietly, his voice laced with hurt. “You think I’d mess this up?”
Charles’s face softened, clearly seeing the effect of his words. “Max, no, I know you’re capable. I just… I’m worried about him. He is already used to me. I thought maybe it would just be easier if I stayed. I don’t want to confuse him, and I just don’t want to put too much on you,” he said softly.
Max’s brows furrowed, frustration and confusion mingling on his face. “What are you talking about?”
“Look, it’s… it’s not a big deal,” Charles replied, trying to dismiss it. “Things have been going well. We don’t need to change anything.”
Max paused, studying him. He could feel the wall between them, one he hadn’t even realized Charles had built until now. Slowly, the pieces started falling into place, and he shook his head. “No, things weren’t going well. Not for me. I want to be part of Oscar’s life, but you keep pushing me away.”
Charles met Max’s gaze, something uncertain flashing in his eyes. “It’s not that I don’t want you involved, Max. I just… I don’t want to push you, make you take responsibility for something that was my choice.”
Max let out a bitter laugh, the humorless sound filling the room. “You really do believe he’s only your son, don’t you?”
Charles blinked, stunned, as Max’s words cut through the air. “Look, Charles,” Max continued, his voice turning hard, “when I agreed to adopt him, I didn’t do it because I wanted to be some absent, distant figure in his life. I did it so that Oscar could have two loving parents. I may not have wanted kids at first, but I signed up for this. And now? He’s my son, too. I’ll be damned if I let him grow up thinking he’s unwanted or that he doesn’t matter to me.”
Charles swallowed, his gaze dropping as Max’s words sank in.
Max took a breath, his voice gentler but still firm. “Stop acting like you’re a single parent. Stop making it seem like I was forced into this because of you. I made this choice too, Charles, for him—so he’d have a family and a stable home.” His tone softened slightly, but there was no mistaking the steel beneath it. “I want to be a part of this family. I don’t want to sit on the sidelines. Let me be his dad. Let me be part of his life with you.”
Charles looked up, his eyes brimming with a mixture of guilt and relief, and he nodded, reaching out to touch Max’s arm.
Charles took a deep breath, then looked at Max with a soft smile, though his eyes held a trace of sadness. "Max," he began gently, "I never doubted you'd be a good dad to Oscar. Not once. I’ve always believed in you."
Max's expression softened, but he still looked uncertain, so Charles pressed on. "It’s just... at the beginning, you were so distant. You barely came near him, and I thought—well, I thought you regretted your decision." Charles paused, watching as Max’s gaze shifted, his eyes flickering with recognition.
Max nodded, his jaw tense, and he exhaled slowly. He ran a hand through his hair, looking down. “I was scared, Charles. I didn’t want to mess this up. He was so small and fragile, I was terrified of doing something wrong... of hurting him. You know why I’ve always been hesitant about kids.” His voice dropped as he admitted, “I didn’t want to end up like my father.”
Charles reached out and placed a comforting hand on Max’s shoulder. "Max, you're nothing like your father. You’re the best human being I know, you’re kind, generous and you have a big heart. I don’t want to force you to do anything, but if you want to be in his life, I know that he will be lucky to have a dad like you." He squeezed Max’s shoulder gently, his voice filled with warmth. “You are already a better father than he will ever be."
Max looked at him, a flicker of gratitude crossing his face, but there was still a shadow of doubt lingering in his eyes. Charles continued, "I didn’t push you because I thought you’re not capable of taking care of Oscar. I just thought you needed space. But maybe… I gave you too much space." Charles’s voice dropped slightly, a hint of vulnerability slipping through. "I just didn’t want you to feel like you were obliged to do something you don’t want."
Max’s eyes softened, and he placed a hand over Charles’s. “Charles, I want to be here. I chose to be here,” he repeated, his voice steady. "Oscar deserves two parents who are all-in. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this alone." He managed a small smile and squeezed Charles’s hand. “And honestly, I think we’re both still figuring this out.”
Charles’s face lit up, a sense of relief washing over him. “Then we’ll figure it out together.”
Max looked at Charles with a soft smile. "Alright," he said, holding back a laugh, "since we’re going to do this together, you need to let me be a part of everything. I want to hold him, change his diaper, and feed him... all of it."
Charles chuckled, looking more relaxed than Max had seen him in days. “Please, be my guest. Do you think I love doing all of this?”
Max raised an eyebrow. “Yes, actually, I do.”
Charles laughed, unable to hide his wide grin. “Okay, maybe I do.”
After a moment, Charles sighed. "We should probably get to bed," he said, though he didn’t make a move to stand.
“Yeah… I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep, though,” Max admitted, stretching his legs out and settling back against the wall.
“Me neither.” Charles laughed softly and stood up. “We’re going to regret this tomorrow.”
“Definitely,” Max groaned, already picturing himself as a zombie. “But it’s normal we’re new parents now.”
Charles smiled, reaching for Max’s hand to pull him up. “Raising a child together… there’s something so intimate about it.”
Max nodded, a warm feeling spreading through him as he stood. Charles’ hand lingered in his, and they shared a quiet look before heading toward their room. Halfway there, Charles stopped. “Oh! I wanted to show you the clothes I bought for Oscar for the party.”
“I thought we were going to go shopping for that together,” Max said, giving Charles a small, disappointed look.
Charles winced. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to bother you, so I just… did it. But after tonight, I’ll do things differently. I promise.”
Max gave a small nod, watching as Charles slipped into their room quietly to not wake Oscar. Charles reemerged, holding a tiny yellow outfit, and his face lit up like a Cheshire cat.
Max’s eyes narrowed. He knew that look. “What… what is that?”
Charles held up the outfit, grinning. “It’s a Pikachu costume!” he whispered, clearly thrilled.
Max sighed, shaking his head with a stubborn frown. “No. Absolutely not, Charles. We’re supposed to take a family picture. I knew I shouldn’t have let you go shopping alone.”
Charles stifled a laugh, quietly whispering, “But he’ll look so cute! Look, I already took a picture of him in it.”
Charles pulled up the photo on his phone, showing Max, and—despite himself—Max melted. Oscar looked adorable, his tiny face peeking out from the yellow costume with big, curious eyes. Max sighed, shaking his head with a small smile.
“See?” Charles whispered, bouncing excitedly on his toes. “I told you he’d look perfect.”
“Fine, fine,” Max relented, chuckling as Charles hugged him, throwing the outfit onto a nearby chair.
As they finally headed for bed, Max mumbled, “I don’t even want to go to this party.”
Charles laughed softly, curling into his side. “Me neither. But if we don’t, dad will kill us.”
---
Max was busy organizing the pets’ crates, getting everything ready for the drive, while Oscar babbled and kicked his legs happily on his tummy next to him. With cheeks puffed in utter concentration, Oscar’s brows knit together as he strained to hold his head steady. His little fists clenched, and his legs kicked slightly behind him as he struggled to keep his balance, almost as if his whole body was pitching in to help. Every few seconds, his head wobbled and dipped, but he would push himself back up
Max had dressed him in a soft white onesie dotted with tiny yellow ducks, a gift from Nico, who had insisted Oscar should look his best for the day he gets to meet their friends and family. Oscar, who had just mastered rolling over, was content on the floor. While Jimmy, one of their cats, sat close by, watching the baby with a curious but protective gaze.
It had been a careful process to introduce the pets to Oscar. Charles, especially, had taken on the responsibility of gradually making sure Leo, Sassy, and Jimmy were comfortable around their newest family member. He started by letting them sniff Oscar’s blanket and gently introducing them one by one. Leo had been curious but calm from the start, while Jimmy and Sassy had been more cautious, preferring to observe from a distance at first. Over the weeks, Charles had patiently allowed them to get used to Oscar’s presence, rewarding them for calm behavior and staying watchful for any signs of tension. Now, the pets seemed to understand that Oscar was part of the family and even seemed drawn to him, as if they, too, sensed that he was something special.
Satisfied that the pets’ crate was set up securely, Max glanced over at Oscar, who was still playing happily, occasionally flapping his arms as though he were trying to fly. Max couldn’t help but smile. He crouched down beside him, reaching out to gently lift Oscar up, who immediately let out a tiny, delighted squeal.
"Alright, little one," Max murmured, smoothing Oscar’s wild, fluffy hair. "Let’s make sure everything’s ready before your papa comes home and we’re off to the party."
The idea of the party began as an offhand suggestion over a quiet dinner at home. Max and Charles were talking about how, since Oscar had come into their lives, so few of their family and friends had actually had the chance to meet him properly. Charles suggested that it might be nice to organize a small get-together so everyone could meet Oscar in a relaxed setting, and Max agreed.
A few days later, Charles mentioned the idea Nico, in a casual phone call. Almost immediately, Nico jumped on the idea. He was beyond excited at the chance to formally introduce his first grandchild to family and friends. Charles hadn’t anticipated how quickly his dad would run with the plan. Nico began asking questions about dates, guest lists, and even started planning some decorations, determined to make the event special for Oscar. What Max and Charles had imagined as a simple, casual get-together was quickly growing into a full party.
Then, when Sophie caught wind of it, things took an unexpected turn. She reached out to Max, suggesting they have the party at the family farm instead. Her reasoning was that the farm had plenty of space, especially with all the people Nico is planning to invite. It also held sentimental value for her as the place where their family had always come together for special occasions. She felt strongly that it would be the perfect setting for Oscar’s introduction.
But Nico was adamant. He thought it made more sense to hold it at his house, where everything would be easier to manage. It was closer to Max and Charles, and he was already deep in planning, adding his own ideas to make it a memorable day for everyone.
Caught between their parents’ wishes, Max and Charles found themselves in an awkward situation. Both Nico and Sophie had valid points, and they didn’t want to upset either of them. In the end, they gently explained to Sophie that they couldn’t pick a side but hoped she would understand. After a few tense conversations, Sophie eventually agreed to let Nico host the event, though she couldn’t help feeling a bit left out. To smooth things over, Max and Charles promised her she’d be the one to organize Oscar’s first birthday party at the farm.
Just as Max finished, he heard the sound of keys in the door. Charles stepped inside, arms loaded with bags from the farmer’s market, a tired but pleased smile on his face. He looked around, taking in the clean house, the pets settled quietly, and then his eyes fell on Oscar, in Max’s hand in his white onesie sprinkled with yellow ducks. Charles’ shoulders dropped, and he tilted his head, lips twisting in disappointment. “Max, we agreed on the Pikachu suit!”
Max looked up from where he knelt beside Oscar, a slight smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “Relax, Charles,” he said. “The Pikachu suit’s in the bag. We’ll put him in it when we get there.”
Charles sighed, giving Oscar a playful little smile before turning back to Max. “Fine, fine.” He slipped his hand into his pocket, pausing a beat, then pulled out a small brown envelop. Holding it up between his fingers, he looked at it with an odd expression before reaching toward Max. “Someone gave this to me just now. Said it was for you.”
Max took the item, eyebrows furrowing as he examined it, turning it over slowly in his hands. “What is this?”
“Not sure exactly," Charles replied, shifting on his feet. "A man gave it to me outside and said it was work-related. Looked like he was in a hurry.”
Max’s expression darkened, his fingers stopping as he looked up at Charles, a hint of worry crossing his face. “Charles, are you serious? You took something from a stranger?”
Charles blinked, visibly thrown by Max’s tone. “Well, he looked harmless. Smiled, was polite. I thought it’d be fine.”
Max exhaled sharply. “You know better than to trust random strangers. ‘Stranger danger,’ remember?”
Charles bit his lip, a sheepish smile breaking through. “Yeah, yeah, I know,” he said with a small laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Won’t happen again. Promise.”
Max met Charles’ gaze, sighing as his expression softened. “Just… be careful, okay?”
Charles nodded, his hand coming to rest on Max’s waist as he gave him a reassuring smile. “I promise,” he said, voice gentle. Looking down at Oscar, who was now cooing up at them, Charles grinned, his earlier worry easing away. “Now, about that Pikachu suit—how soon can we put it on him?”
Max laughed, giving him a look. “Soon, alright? But I still think this looks better.”
Charles laughed softly, his hand brushing Max’s. “Just wait until you see how adorable he’ll look.”
Charles leaned in, pressing a warm, gentle kiss to Max’s cheek. “I’ll be with you in a minute,” he said softly. “Just need to use the bathroom.” He gave Max a reassuring smile before slipping down the hall.
Max stood there, Oscar in one arm, his gaze drifting back to the envelope Charles had handed him moments ago. It was so ordinary-looking, just a small brown square, sealed carefully. But something about it felt heavier than it should—like whatever was inside held more weight than just paper.
He glanced toward the hallway, hearing the faint sound of water running. Curiosity pulled at him, urging him to open it right then and there. But he reminded himself of the evening ahead, of the promise he’d made to be present.
With a sigh, Max slid the envelope into the drawer, his fingers lingering for a moment before closing it. He looked down at Oscar, who was contentedly sucking on his fist, and gave him a soft smile. “Later,” he murmured, almost to himself.
---
They arrived at Nico’s just at twelive, and it took Max and Charles a solid half-hour to unpack the car. Between Oscar’s supplies, his stroller, bags of party essentials, and crates for Leo, Sassy, and Jimmy, it felt like they were moving in. Sophie arrived shortly after, sweeping in with her usual warmth, playfully scolding them for not calling her sooner.
They had Lunch together in a flurry of laughter and teasing. Max cooked, with Charles at his side, passing him ingredients and stealing bites whenever Max wasn’t looking. Nico and Sophie spent most of the time doting over Oscar, who was reveling in all the attention. With every coo and soft pinch to his cheeks, Oscar’s big brown eyes lit up, his laugh spilling out in delighted squeals that had everyone in the room smiling. Nico took countless photos and videos, capturing every gummy grin and excited kick of Oscar’s tiny legs.
But as the meal ended, Charles noticed Oscar rubbing his eyes, the telltale signs of a nap overdue. “Alright, time for a bath and a nap,” Charles announced, lifting Oscar into his arms with a smile. Nico offered to help, eager to extend his time with his grandson, leaving Max in the kitchen with Sophie.
As they tidied up, Sophie glanced over at Max, her expression softening as she watched him. When they paused for a moment, she asked, “So… how’s everything been, Max?”
Max shrugged, carefully avoiding her gaze as he responded. “It’s going well,” he said, attempting a casual tone that came off a little too flat.
Sophie didn’t miss a beat, picking up on the strain in his voice immediately. She reached out, resting a comforting hand on his arm. “You know, you can tell me anything,” she said, her voice gentle.
Max let out a long breath, his grip tightening on the dish towel in his hand. “There’s really nothing, Mom. Charles and I… we’re fine. We’re working through things.”
Sophie held his gaze, her worry only growing. “And with Oscar?” she prompted softly.
Max swallowed, hesitating. “Yeah… and with Oscar. It’s… it’s great.” He tried to sound confident, but the uncertainty seeped through, and he knew she could hear it.
Sophie didn’t press further, sensing that Max wasn’t quite ready to go deeper. But he could feel her concern, her desire to help him carry whatever weight he was holding inside. He knew he wasn’t entirely settled in this new role. It felt like he was teetering on the edge, wrestling with fears he couldn’t even name—the fear of failing, of not being enough for Oscar or for Charles, of hurting both of them. Of never fully accepting and loving Oscar.
As if sensing his thoughts, Sophie squeezed his shoulder, offering a small, understanding smile. “You’re doing well, you know. I can see it.”
Max nodded, a flicker of relief in her reassurance, even if his doubts lingered. There was more to say, more he wanted to untangle, but for now, he took comfort in being with his mom.
---
After lunch, everyone got to work preparing for the party. Max and Nico took charge of the kitchen, bustling around as they chopped fresh vegetables, seasoned sauces, and arranged trays of appetizers. Charles and Sophie were setting up decorations outside, weaving streamers between tree branches and hanging colorful balloons. Leo was zipping around their feet, barking with excitement, and every now and then, the cats strolled through, playfully swatting at the hanging decorations, making Charles and Sophie laugh as they tried to shoo them away.
Max glanced outside, watching as they transformed the backyard into a magical space for Oscar. There was an arch of lilac flowers framing Oscar’s high chair, the centerpiece of the long table draped with a soft, pastel-colored tablecloth. Nico’s vision for the garden party was unfolding beautifully, and even though they had a lot to do, Max could see how much care everyone was putting into it.
They’d only managed to finish half the setup when the doorbell rang. Charles shouted “I got it” and went to answer the door . Moments later, Max looked up to see Charles walking in with Daniel—and, surprisingly, Lando. A twinge of discomfort flickered through Max; he hadn’t wanted to invite Lando initially after the bar incident, still feeling uneasy with him around Charles. But Charles had asked Daniel to invite him. so he buried his discomfort, putting on a welcoming smile.
“Hey, guys,” Max greeted them. They asked about Oscar, and Max gestured toward Charles’ old bedroom, where Oscar is sleeping soundly. “He’s sleeping right now,” Max said with a grin, grateful for the help but secretly relieved they opted out of the kitchen duties. “But we could use some extra hands outside.”
As Daniel and Lando joined Sophie in the garden, Charles came back to the kitchen, where Max and Nico were setting up trays of finger foods. Nico had meticulously planned the menu—Nachos, sliders, stuffed mushrooms, meatballs and spaghetti, pigs in blankets, mini bruschetta’s, charcuterie boards, and a fresh salad, and for desert brownies and chocolate cake fresh from the bakery. Charles took the grater from Nico and began zesting a lemon over the salad, concentrating as he moved his hands carefully. He chuckled, glancing at the counter overflowing with ingredients. “Dad, this is a lot of food. Couldn’t we have just ordered pizza or something?”
Nico and Max responded in unison. “No!” Max shook his head disapprovingly, while Nico raised his ladle like a pointer, emphasizing each word.
“This is Oscar’s special day,” Nico declared. “It has to be perfect. We’re making memories here.”
Charles rolled his eyes. “He’s not even going to remember what we ate. He wont even be able to eat with us.”
Nico shrugged, stirring a pot of warm tomato sauce. “It’s not just about the food. It’s about doing things right.” He handed a bowl to Max, who started whisking a tangy vinaigrette for the salad.
Sebastian who joined them a few minutes ago, sidled up to Charles with a mischievous grin. He leaned in, whispering something that made Charles grin from ear to ear. Max couldn’t hear what was said, but he saw Nico’s face turn a faint shade of pink as he waved his ladle in mock warning. “It’s not like that!” Nico protested, trying to keep a straight face.
Charles looked at Sebastian with a grin. “Wait—he’s told you about him?”
Sebastian groaned dramatically, and answered sarcastically. “Are you kidding? It’s all he talks about. The guy can cook, he’s thoughtful, he’s amazing with babies and animals, he’s handsome and smart—believe me, I know all about it.”
Nico shot them both an irritated look, throwing a pinch of salt into the boiling pot. “That’s not true. I’m just… appreciative of a good neighbor, that’s all.”
Sebastian smirked, glancing over at Max. “Denial is not just a river in Egypt, Nico.”
Nico turned to Max, looking both exasperated and slightly defensive. “It’s really not like that.”
“Oh?” Sebastian smirked. “So you’re not trying to impress a certain vegan neighbor with your cooking?”
Nico muttered, glancing at the pot as he stirred more vigorously, “No. He’s not even coming.”
Max turned to Charles, brow furrowing. “Wait, what? Nico has a crush?”
Charles chuckled. “Oh, yeah. Totally. “He leaned over to Max, whispering with a mischievous glint, “but I think he’s in denial.”
Max stifled a laugh, trying to act serious. “Nico, maybe there’s more going on here than you’re willing to admit.”
“Ridiculous,” Nico grumbled, shaking his head. “Men can just be friends, you know.”
Sebastian snorted, winking at Charles. “Men can, sure, but you two? Definitely not just friends.”
Nico sighed, looking slightly defeated, but then he shook his head. “You’re all impossible.” Then, with one last wave of his spatula, he added, “Now, are we going to keep gossiping, or are we going to make this dinner perfect for Oscar?”
Max looked back at Charles, eyebrow raised. “Why am I only hearing about this now?”
Charles grinned, whispering back, “When I was here after being discharged from the hospital, he’d bring us food almost every other day.” Charles glanced at Nico, who was still stirring, now visibly trying to ignore them. “He even babysat the pets when we were in New York,” Charles continued. “And… he’s already babysat Oscar, too, with dad.”
Max crossed his arms, giving Charles a sharp look, one eyebrow raised. “Have you even met him?” His lips pressed into a thin line, and his tone was tinged with anger as he shot a side-eye at Charles. Not like the fact that a stranger babysat his son.
Charles winced, his shoulders slumping as he looked away, chewing his lip nervously. He finally managed, “I…actually haven’t.” His voice was almost a whisper, as if hoping Max wouldn’t hear him.
Max’s eyes narrowed further, annoyance flashing across his face. “You left Oscar with a stranger! What’s wrong with you?”
Nico jumped in defensively, shaking his head. “Not a stranger! I was there. He was just here for a few hours, helping me out—he even bought Oscar that cute onesie he’s wearing.”
Charles smiled at the thought. “I had no idea it was from him! It’s adorable. I’ll have to thank him.”
Max sighed, shooting Charles an anger glare. “Do you even know his name?”
Charles hesitated, cheeks tinging with guilt. “Uh… actually… no.”
Nico sighed, shaking his head. “His name is—”but before he can finish, the doorbell rang again, startling him. His hand brushed the side of the hot pot, and he yelped, “Ouch!” pulling back quickly.
Charles was by his side in an instant. “Dad, are you okay?”
Oscar’s cry rang out from the bedroom, startling everyone. It was almost a miracle he hadn’t woken up earlier, given all the noise and people coming in and out. Charles looked toward the room, then turned back to focus on holding his dad’s hand under the cold water faucet.
“I’ll go get him,” Max said, already moving toward the bedroom. On his way, he bumped into Mark, he offering him a quick greeting before continuing down the hall.
As Max stepped into the bedroom, he found Oscar in the middle of the bed, red-faced and wailing. The baby had somehow managed to flip himself onto his tummy and was squirming, tiny fists clenching and unclenching in pure frustration. His cheeks were puffed out, his big brown eyes scrunched up in indignation.
“Oh, buddy, you’re really not happy, are you?” Max murmured, reaching into the crib and gently lifting Oscar up. The baby’s cries softened slightly as he was lifted, but his face still showed an expression scrunched, his little fists waving in protest. Max gave him a gentle sway, whispering soothing words, as Oscar began to calm down.
Max shifted Oscar in his arms so he could get a better look at him. Oscar blinked up at Max, his big eyes still glistening from his earlier cries. He gave a few hiccupping breaths before settling, his tiny hand reaching up and wrapping around Max’s finger, trying to suck his thumb.
A familiar scent reached Max, unmistakable and insistent. “Oh, buddy, we sure seem to be hungry” he sighed, smiling despite himself. “But first, we need to get you changed, don’t we?” He remembered Charles’s specific request — the Pikachu outfit — and figured this was the perfect time to follow through.
He carried Oscar over to the changing table Nico had thoughtfully set up in Charles’s old room. Nico had said it would “come in handy with all the babysitting” he’d be doing, and it was already proving him right. Max settled Oscar onto the soft surface.
“Alright, let’s get you sorted,” Max muttered, talking to Oscar as he went through the familiar motions. He carefully changed Oscar’s diaper.
Once the diaper was taken care of, Max washed his hands, and then he reached into the bag he had packed and pulled out the tiny yellow Pikachu onesie. He couldn’t help but grin as he held it up in front of Oscar, who was already waving his arms as if eager to get dressed.
“Okay, little guy, here comes Pikachu,” Max chuckled, slipping Oscar’s arms and legs into the soft fabric. The onesie had adorable little ears on the hood, and as Max pulled it up over Oscar’s head, he laughed at how it transformed the baby into a tiny, bright-eyed Pikachu. “You’re going to steal the show at this party,” he said, brushing a gentle finger over Oscar’s cheek.
Oscar cooed, looking up at Max with a small, pleased smile, as if he knew he looked absolutely adorable. Max couldn’t resist taking a quick picture with his phone, sending it off to Charles with a caption that read, Pikachu, as requested.
“Wow, you’re really good at this,” Daniel said, sounding genuinely impressed.
Max looked up startles to find Daniel leaning against the doorway, arms crossed with an easy smile. “Thanks. You should see Charles, though. He’s the real pro at this sort of thing. Does it in half the time — and with a lot more singing.”
Daniel smiled, but there was a hint of sadness behind it. “Oscar’s lucky he’s got two great parents.”
Max paused, glancing up at him. “Why do you sound sad?”
Daniel shrugged, leaning in a little closer. “Because I am, mate. Three months may not be long, but after all this time working together, it’ll feel like I’ve lost a limb. I’m so used to having you around.”
Max softened, glancing back down at Oscar, who was now wiggling. “Hey, we’ll still be working on my dad’s case. I’m not going anywhere. And you can come visit anytime — I’ll need adult company to keep me sane,” he said with a grin.
Daniel looked at Max, his expression serious but soft. “I just want to make sure you really want this,” he said gently. “And that you’re okay with how things are going to be.”
Max knew Daniel was asking out of care, not doubt. Daniel understood how much Max’s work meant to him, how it shaped so much of his life.
Max nodded, a calm certainty settling in his chest. “I’m good, Daniel. My work matters, but it’s not everything, I am doing the right thing. this way I can be with my family and work on my dad’s case.”
Daniel studied him for a second, a smile breaking through. “Good.”
As soon as Max fastened the last button on Oscar’s Pikachu onesie, Oscar’s tiny face scrunched up, and he let out a loud wail, his little hands reaching up towards Max.
“Oh, I get it, buddy. You’re hungry, huh?” Max said, picking him up and bouncing him gently. Oscar smacked his lips, giving Max a hopeful, pleading look.
Daniel chuckled, watching as Max tried to soothe him. “Guess it’s time for a snack,” he said. “Want me to grab the bottle from the kitchen?”
Max nodded, grateful. “That’d be great, thanks. It should be ready in the fridge — I think Charles prepared it earlier.”
It was Charles who returned with the warm milk bottle not Daniel, Oscar’s face brightened instantly. His little hands stretched out, making grabby motions that melted Charles’s heart. Charles kissed Oscar’s tiny fingers before handing the bottle to Max, who had been ready to pass Oscar over to him. Charles just shook his head, silently encouraging Max to feed Oscar himself.
Max took the bottle, settling Oscar into a comfortable position. The little one latched onto the bottle hungrily, gripping it with one tiny hand while Max held it steady, careful not to let Oscar gulp down too much at once. Oscar’s big eyes stayed fixed on Max, his tiny brows furrowing with focus as he drank, as if this was the most serious task he’d ever undertaken.
Charles came over, resting a reassuring hand on Max’s thigh. “How are you feeling?” he asked softly.
Max let out a small huff, half-amused, half-exasperated. “Why is everyone asking me that?”
Charles winced slightly. “Sorry,” he murmured, but Max just shook his head, offering a small smile.
“No, it’s fine. Actually…I’m having fun. It’s nice to be around so many people again,” Max admitted, brushing a strand of hair out of Oscar’s face.
Charles’s face softened, a smile lighting up his features. “Me too. I can’t wait to show Oscar to everyone,” he said, his eyes twinkling as he glanced down at their son. “And look at him—he’s adorable in that Pikachu outfit. Admit it.”
Max chuckled, raising a teasing eyebrow. “It’s not the outfit—it’s him.”
Charles folded his arms seriously, a stubborn gleam in his eye. “It’s both,” he insisted, with a little huff that made Max grin.
When Oscar finally finished his bottle, he let out a content sigh, his fingers relaxing. Charles looked over at Max and asked, “Want to carry him out and introduce him?”
Max gave a small nod, adjusting Oscar against his chest. “Sure,” he said, a little nervous excitement fluttering in his stomach.
With Oscar nestled in his arms, Max stepped out into the garden, where decorations and balloons fluttered in the breeze. As soon as everyone caught sight of them, cheers erupted. Oscar’s eyes went wide, and for a split second, he froze in Max’s arms, clearly taken aback by the noise. Then his bottom lip quivered, and he let out a startled wail.
The room fell silent, everyone looking sheepish, hands halfway raised as they all waited, feeling guilty for scaring the little one. Leo, bounded over, weaving through the crowd and jumping up on Charles’s leg, eyes trained on Oscar as if ready to offer support.
Max and Charles took turns bouncing and shushing Oscar, his cries gradually quieting until he settled back into a calm, slightly wide-eyed state. Charles took his tiny hand and guided it in the direction of the crowd.
“Hey, buddy, look—this is your family,” Charles said softly, pointing to each person with a warm smile. “You know Grandpa Nico,” he said as Nico stepped forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Oscar’s cheek,. Oscar blinked up at Nico, his little hands gripping Max’s shirt as he began to settle.
Charles went on, introducing each person with gentle gestures. “And this is Grandma Sophie,” he said, and Sophie leaned in, giving Oscar a small wave and a warm smile. Oscar’s eyes lingered on each face in turn, taking in Daniel’s bright grin, Sebastian’s gentle nod, Pierre’s little finger wave, and George snapping pictures quietly in the background, his face split in a delighted grin.
Everyone else took turns greeting Oscar with warm, quiet greetings— their voices gentle so as not to startle him, Kimi, Carlos, Yuki, Lando, and Max’s family members, all keeping their voices soft. Each person waved or gently touched his tiny hand, and Oscar began to relax, curiosity overcoming his initial fear.
Charles held Oscar’s hand, pointing gently as he continued. “Derek and Enzo couldn’t make it, but they promised to come soon. Derek has exams, but as soon as they’re over, they’ll be here too,” he said softly.
Oscar blinked, his big eyes wide with fascination. With a soft smile, Charles looked around at everyone, his voice warm and full of pride. "So, everyone," he said, "I want to introduce you to baby Oscar Evan Verstappen-Leclerc."
Charles carefully handed Oscar a bright, colorful balloon, watching his little face light up at the small, shiny object in front of him. Oscar’s wide eyes followed it for a moment, transfixed by the way it bobbed gently in the air. Then, with an unexpected burst of determination, he grabbed it with both hands, clutching it tightly.
Max watched in concern, ready to intervene if things went awry. “Oscar, no,” he murmured, reaching out gently to take the balloon away. He didn’t want Oscar to accidentally pop it with a tight grip.
Oscar’s tiny face scrunched up in frustration the moment Max took the balloon, and before anyone could react, Oscar’s face began to crumple, as soft wail of protest filled the air. Max instinctively brought a hand to Oscar’s back, rubbing gentle circles to soothe him. “Hey, hey, it’s okay, little man,” he murmured softly, as Oscar buried his face in Max’s shirt, clutching tightly. The sound of his cries made everyone stop and glance nervously at each other.
“That’s it,” Nico said softly, “I think It’s time to open his presents.”
Everyone nodded in agreement, eager to make Oscar feel better. Max gently set the balloon aside and followed Charles inside into the living room, he placed Oscar onto a soft, colorful play mat on the floor that Nico had bought recently.
As soon as Oscar’s tiny hands touched the mat, his face broke into a delighted grin. His eyes sparkled with joy as he reached out to grab the nearest toy—the balloon long forgotten. A plush giraffe, its long neck dangling just within his reach. Oscar’s little fingers wrapped around it tightly, lifting it with a mixture of excitement and triumph.
The others gathered around, sitting on the floor with him, watching with smiles as Oscar giggled softly, his tiny feet kicking the mat in excitement.
Meanwhile, Nico moved to the kitchen to bring the appetizers in, placing small plates of finger foods on the table for everyone to nibble on. The vibrant colors of the snacks—freshly cut vegetables, cheeses, and savory dips.
Just as everyone had gathered to begin opening gifts, the doorbell rang. Nico, ever the gracious host, smiled and went to answer it, The room fell into a brief silence as Nico opened the door, but then everyone heard a voice from the entrance—an unfamiliar one. “You came just in time,” Nico called out. “Come in, we’re about to open the gifts. Oscar just woke up!”
The group paused, curiosity in the air. Max furrowed his brow slightly, wondering who could it be.
---
December 18th, 2024 three months later
Charles sat rooted in the dirt, damp earth clinging to his clothes, and a bitter chill settling into his bones. The ground beneath him was uneven, rough, and cold, but he didn’t care; he’d been here for hours, unmoving, fixed in place as if leaving would make this loss real. his hands pressed to the cold earth, feeling as though he was trying to reach through the ground, somehow willing it to let Max back up. Around him, night had begun to settle in, casting shadows across the cemetery. The others had left, whispering softly, offering their words of sympathy and encouragement, telling him he needed to go home, to rest, to let go. But Charles wasn’t going anywhere. Nico refused to leave without him.
It had been a week, and yet each day without Max felt like he was living it all over again, He couldn’t believe it. He wouldn’t believe it.
Max was here, and so he would stay. Max couldn’t be left alone—not here, not in the silence and stillness of the cemetery, where the night seemed to stretch endlessly. Max hated being still, always moving, always busy with something, always itching to make the most of every single second. And now, Charles couldn’t stand the thought of him here, alone, left behind like this. Max needed him—just as much as he needed Max.
Max wasn’t supposed to die; he was supposed to be here, laughing that dry, wonderful laugh of his, teasing Charles for forgetting his keys, showing Oscar how to hold a spoon. Charles hadn’t had the chance to say goodbye—he’d just assumed he’d see him in a few hours. He thought he’d get to hold him that night, tell him a hundred little things that seemed so trivial but were their life together. But now all those things—Max’s smile, his laugh, the warmth of his hand—were gone, ripped from him in a moment he couldn’t ever get back.
“They say you’re not here, that your soul is… somewhere else,” Charles murmured, his voice breaking, eyes fixed on the grave as if Max might answer. “But your body is here. And if this is where you are, then… then this is where I’ll be too.”
The thought of walking away, of going back to an empty home that would never feel like home again, was impossible. How could he go on, live each day without Max’s presence filling the room, without his laughter, without those quirks that made him so undeniably himself? He couldn’t just… leave. Max had been his world, his home, his other half. And now, in this dark, quiet place, with his fingers digging into the cold, damp ground as if he could somehow hold onto Max just a little longer, Charles knew he wasn’t going anywhere. Not now. Not ever.