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“Tell me,” Charles says, more of a command than anything else. And Max, absolute goddamn moron who didn’t realize he was in love with this bastard for three whole weeks, let alone all the months before, obeys without a second thought.
“I’m an idiot.”
“Yes,” Charles agrees immediately, then looks continually expectant.
“I’ve been in love with you for, I don’t know, months.”
The words visibly make Charles’ pupils expand as he gazes at Max. He sucks in a breath, then releases it with a whoosh.
“I think about you all the goddamn time. It’s ruining my life.”
Charles nods, primly, like this is something he anticipated.
“You are actively the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.” Max isn’t even exaggerating. The last few weeks have been awful. “You’re way too intense and everything is a big deal with you,” he gestures between them to demonstrate, “and you can’t let an argument go to save your life. Especially not with me.”
*
Or, Charles thinks they’re dating. Max would like it to be known that they very much are not. For now, at least.
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