Chapter Text
Daniel is miserable. He doesn’t even know why’s here, at this stupid after party. He has no right to be here anyway. He finished P17, and it was a shit race, a shit weekend, and he should fly home and lick his wounds.
But instead he's here and the only reason is Max. He's here because of Max. Daniel is pathetic, and he's drunk, and it's a problem. He's a problem.
He can't stop watching him. He's dancing, his head thrown back. He's wearing a white shirt and jeans, and he looks so hot.
He looks like he's having the time of his life, and it makes Daniel's heart hurt. He's not supposed to want Max, so he doesn't. He really doesn't.
Kelly has appeared, and she's saying something in Max’s ear. It must be funny because Max laughs, his head tipping forward, short fringe flopping over his forehead, and Daniel wants to push it out of the way. Kelly does it instead and Daniel feels a flash of jealousy. It doesn't last. He doesn't know what he's feeling, exactly but it’s a mix of jealousy and then dread and something else, something deeper and sharper and worse.
Daniel has never thought about being attracted to guys, not really. Not until Max. They're supposed to be friends, but Daniel can't stop thinking about him, about his body. About his shoulders, his chest, his ass. He wants to put his mouth on every inch of Max's skin.
He's terrified of the thoughts, of what they might mean. Daniel knows it's wrong. It's not just that he's definitely not gay, or bi, or whatever. It's Max. They're friends, and it's the worst thing in the world.
Still, he watches Max as he dances, the muscles in his back moving. Sweat patches on his shirt. Daniel watches the way his hair is sticking to the nape of his neck. He probably looks like a fucking creep, staring, but he can't stop.
Kelly is talking to Max, her lips close to his ear. He can see her hands on his hips, manicured fingers digging in.
It should look ridiculous, but it doesn't. They fit. They look like they belong together.
Daniel is miserable.
It gets worse when Max turns around, and his shirt rides up, and Daniel can see the strip of skin above his waistband, his stomach, his hipbones.
Daniel has to leave. He can't keep looking. He walks past them, and Max doesn't notice, but Kelly does.
She smiles, and then she whispers something into Max's ear, and then she waves at Daniel.
"Hi," she mouths, and Daniel doesn't smile.
He drinks too much, and he feels better, until he doesn't. So he drinks more, and then the room is spinning, and then he’s still thinking about Max.
It's horrible. He thinks about kissing Max, and his heart races. He doesn't know what's wrong with him.
Someone must notice him looking miserable and dancing alone because he’s being passed a drink. He downs it and almost misses the unusual taste. It’s bitter, maybe a little salty.
It doesn’t matter. He's feeling dizzy, lightheaded, and he keeps drinking.
It starts with the lights. They flare and pulse in a way that seems to come from everywhere, bouncing off the mirrored walls and the glittering surfaces. Daniel can feel his pulse thudding in his throat, a heavy drumbeat.
There are people everywhere, moving like fish, a shifting shoal. There are bodies pressed against him, hands on his hips, his shoulders, his arms. The music is loud, louder than it was before, or maybe it just feels like that.
After a while, he doesn't remember where he is, and he's not even that drunk anymore.
There are hands on him. He can't tell who it is, but he doesn't care. The hands are pushing him and then the world is tilting, and he's leaning against a wall, a mouth on his. It startles him a bit and he gasps, but the tongue in his mouth is warm, and it feels good, and he can't help but kiss back.
The hands are still on him, one on his hip, the other on his shoulder and he just goes with it. His head is swimming, but it's so, so good.
The mouth moves down his neck, sucking a bruise onto his collarbone. The feeling sends sparks all the way down his spine and he groans, head falling back against the wall.
It’s like that for a while. Nice touches that Daniel can pretend are from someone else. Then the hands become a bit more forceful and Daniel’s less sure he likes it. A hand slips under his shirt and starts to push it up.
"Mmm," Daniel hums, a little confused. “Stop.” He says. And it does, only for a moment though. "No, come on," the owner of the hands says, and keeps moving.
"Stop," Daniel murmurs again. He’s trying to get the words out, but it's like his brain isn’t connected to his body. It's a struggle to make his lips form the words. "M-Max." He manages, his voice coming out weak and quiet.
He closes his eyes as his shirt starts getting pulled up again. He gets a hand round to his stomach to try and pull it back down, lips and tongue still locked with the other person. It’s a bit of a useless effort because his shirt gets pulled up anyway and he’s somehow both too hot and cold at the same time. He's dizzy and exhausted, and the person won’t stop. His head hurts now, and his body, and he can't open his eyes. It all feels like suffocating, like his lungs are filled with water. He whines at the feeling.
"You’re fine, oh my god," the person is saying, sounding a little irritated, like Daniel is making this difficult. It's a girl, Daniel realises. He can feel her breasts pressing against him.
"I don't want to," the words out clearer than he’d be expecting them to. He opens his eyes a little, it’s just a blur.
"You seemed to," she says.
"I don't want…sorry" Daniel repeats, and the world is spinning violently, the hand is still pushing, the mouth is back on his jaw.
Daniel doesn't want to kiss her, doesn't want her hands on him but he lets her anyway. She’d seemed upset when he wanted to stop. So he tries to enjoy the feeling of being close to someone again. He’d missed it. Then the hands get mean again, it aches where they press into him.
"Stop," Daniel manages with a gasp, and he tries to pull away. Instead he's pushed harder against the wall. It’s pretty odd actually because Daniel should probably be stronger than her. Anyway, he's not thinking properly. “Can you please just…gentle?” he pushes weakly. “S’too much.”
"What the fuck is wrong with you," she says. Shit. She’s upset with him again. "You were all over me a minute ago."
Daniel can't respond, can't think, and he can't even keep his head up but he supposes she has a point. “Yeah…sorry.”
Her hands drift down, undoing his belt and slipping into his pants. The touches hurt again but Daniel can't push her off, can't do anything.
“What are you doin’?" He slurs, voice coming out quiet and weak and he’s getting worse at making sentences.
"Shhh," she murmurs and her tone is kind of nice, but she’s kissing him again, rough and sloppy.
Daniel wants to tell her that he doesn’t really like this, any of it, and wants her to stop touching him because tears are starting to well up in his eyes, which is fucking embarrassing.
"Mmmm," he manages instead, and he thinks that will do the trick.
It doesn't.
Her hand is still in his pants giving some sort of sloppy attempt at jerking him off. If he doesn’t think too hard about what’s going on, the touches could almost feel good. His hips stutter involuntarily and he huffs into her shoulder. If this is happening, if there’s nothing he can do to stop this, he may as well try to enjoy it.
She makes him lick her fingers and then she’s trailing a hand back down to his crotch before he can protest, and it's fucked up, and it's wrong, all of it, but the name slips from his mouth before he can stop it.
"Max," he moans and the girl stops.
"What the fuck," she says against his ear, angry again.
He's crying, and he's not sure why, and he can't stop. He doesn’t usually cry. Really ever except for now apparently. She's still kissing him, hands drifting. She's grabbing him, and her hands are cold, and he can't think. She's kissing his neck and biting his bottom lip, and she's pulling his hair, and he can't think, and it's all just a bit much, and it never really felt good.
“Please, stop, I can't, I can't," he mumbles, and his voice breaks. The girl pulls away.
"Fuck, fine," she snaps, "You're such a prick, you know that."
"Mmmm," Daniel hums and his head lolls to the side, and the world is spinning and tilting around him.
"Fucking freak," he hears her mutter, voice getting lost in the pounding music. He's alone, suddenly and he’s so confused. He has no idea what is happening.
The world is swimming, and he has to hold onto a table, and then there are people beside him and he can't move his legs.
He blinks, and Max is there, frowning. His hand is warm, solid, against Daniel’s lower back.
He’s talking, Daniel can tell. His mouth is moving, and Daniel is trying to read his lips, but it's impossible. Daniel can only stare at the shape of them, the slick sheen of Max's skin where the light bounces off it.
"Daniel," Max says, he sounds quite upset, Daniel realises. "Come on." He’s holding Daniel’s hand which is good, Daniel thinks, because it means he's not alone. His hand is kind and soft and maybe a bit sweaty but it doesn't matter. Nothing matters except for that, the warmth of Max's hand. It's grounding, makes him feel a little less dizzy, and he's pretty sure it’s the only thing keeping him upright.
Daniel tries to follow him, but his legs are sluggish. He stumbles, and Max's hands are on his back and chest, steadying him.
"Fuck," Daniel mumbles. "Something's wrong."
He tries to remember how he got here, why they're here. Something about a celebration, a win. Max’s win. That’s right. Max’s win not his, but still somehow his too, because it’s Max.
In the time it takes Daniel to blink Max has somehow pulled him towards the bathroom, which is a relief, because he doesn’t want anyone else to see him like this.
He sits down on the cold tile floor and closes his eyes, and the world goes mercifully quiet, or quieter. When he opens his eyes next, Max is crouched down next to him, frowning.
"You're so fucking hot," Daniel says, and it comes out slurred. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows he shouldn’t have said that. Max's frown deepens.
"I think you're sick," he says, and his accent makes it sound like a question, a guess.
"I'm fine," Daniel says. He waves a hand, trying to show how fine he is, and ends up hitting Max in the chest, the solid muscle of his pecs. "Sorry," he says. "Shit, sorry."
Max doesn't say anything. He puts his hand on the side of Daniel's neck, his palm hot. He looks worried. "Daniel," he says. "Hey."
He moves his hand from Daniel's neck to his forehead, like a mother checking a child for a fever. It should be annoying, or patronising, but Daniel can only moan. It feels nice. He wants to lean into the touch.
"You are very drunk," Max says.
"No," Daniel says, but his tongue is heavy in his mouth, and the words come out muffled. He feels heavy everywhere, like the gravity has suddenly doubled.
"You're okay," Max says. His voice is soft, his hand on the back of Daniel's neck. “How do you feel?”
"Bad," Daniel admits. The room is spinning around him.
"Do you need to throw up?"
Daniel thinks about it. "Maybe," he says.
"Okay," Max says, "okay," and he pulls Daniel towards the toilet.
It turns out he does need to throw up, a lot, and after he does, the world spins even worse. "Oh," he says. "Mate this isn’t good."
"You are fine," Max says, his hands back on Daniel's neck. He helps Daniel sit back against the cool tile wall.
"I don't know what's wrong with me," Daniel says. He's sweating, his entire body clammy. His hair is damp. He feels a bit like when you have the flu and your muscles ache from the inside out. He kind of wants to cry again.
"You are drunk," Max says, "It's okay, I think."
"No," Daniel says. "That's not all, that's not right because…” he trails off, losing his chain of thought.
"What?" Max asks. He puts a hand on Daniel's face, still checking for the fever that’s not there.
"I don't know," Daniel slurs. "My head is so weird. Why are we here?"
"We are celebrating," Max says. "Remember? Because I won." His voice sounds a little strange, his face a little tense, and Daniel wonders if he's done something wrong.
"You did," Daniel says, with a rush of affection. "I love you Max," he says, because the feeling is so huge it can't stay in. He has to say something.
"Okay," Max says, softly. “Thank you.”
"I want to," Daniel says, and stops. He has no idea what he's trying to say. He's not making any sense.
"Want to what?" Max asks, gentle and a bit desperate. "What do you want Daniel?" He squeezes Daniels hand. It feels nice, and Daniel thinks he should squeeze back, but he's not sure. Maybe he does. It doesn't matter.
"I want," Daniel says, and gives up. He feels terrible. He doesn't have any words left.
Max's face is close to his. There's a tiny scar next to his left eyebrow. His eyes are very blue.
"I'm going to kiss you," Daniel tells him. He doesn't really mean to say it, but it feels like something he should tell Max.
Max's mouth twitches."What?" he says.
"I'm going to," Daniel starts, but then he forgets what he was going to say, because he's kissing Max.
It's a terrible kiss. Daniel's mouth feels wrong, and his head is pounding, and he can't get any air. He can feel his teeth scraping against Max's.
"Daniel," Max says, pulling away. "Stop, stop."
"Fuck," Daniel says. He's ruined it, the friendship, Max. Everything. "I'm sorry," he says, desperate. "I didn't mean it, I'm so sorry."
"No, hey," Max says, "hey," his hands back on the sides of Daniel's face, holding him steady. "It's okay."
"I'm so fucked up," Daniel says. He doesn't think he's ever been this miserable in his life.
“I think we need to go home now," Max says, gently. "Are you okay?"
Daniel thinks about it. "I think I'm dying," he says, honestly.
"You are not dying," Max says. He sounds scared. “But something is not right, I think. You are not feeling well."
"Yeah," Daniel agrees. He isn’t feeling well at all. Max stands up, then pulls Daniel up with him. The world swims, and Max catches him.
"You are not okay," Max says. "Okay, hang on." Max half-carries him, and they're back in the club. Daniel has no idea where they're going.
"Where's my jacket," he asks, panicked, and Max shushes him. "I've got it," he says. Max takes him outside. The night air feels cool and good, but it makes Daniel shiver.
“Where is your hotel Daniel?” Max asks, his hand on Daniel's shoulder, keeping him steady.
Daniel doesn't remember.
"Come on," Max says, and he walks them forward. "We can find it. I will take you back, tell me where you are staying."
Daniel doesn't know what's wrong. He can't walk, can't speak, can't move. His feet aren't moving. He's going to collapse.
"Max," he manages, and he can hear how broken his voice sounds.
"I'm here," Max says. He's helping Daniel sit down, his hands around Daniel's waist, and then there are other voices.
"Is he okay?" Someone is asking, and Max is talking. "Yeah," he's saying. "Yeah, no, it's okay."
Daniel's head falls forward. He can't even hold it up.
“Daniel where are you staying?” Max asks again, firmer.
Daniel lifts his head, chewing his lip for a moment. "I don't know," he says, and then starts to cry, because it's getting to be too much again.
"Shit," Max says. "Shit, Daniel, hey. It's okay. Don't cry. Shh."
Max is stroking his face, and Daniel is crying, and Max is hugging him, and the world is spinning and spinning and spinning.
"I'm dying," Daniel pants, and then he’s throwing up again, retching miserably onto the sidewalk.
"Come on," Max says, after, pulling Daniel against him. "I'm going to call an Uber. Let's go back to my hotel, okay?"
The car is blessedly dark and cool. Daniel lets himself lean against Max's shoulder and closes his eyes.
When they get back to the hotel, Daniel can barely walk. His body is limp, rubbery. His head is swimming. He's still crying, and it's embarrassing, but he can't make it stop. Daniel is sure they get a few looks as they stumble through the lobby, Max's arm around his waist.
"We're fine," Max tells the woman behind the counter, and Daniel wants to laugh. This isn’t fine.
Max pulls him into an elevator and then into a hallway, and then he's pushing a card into a lock, and Daniel is falling face first onto a bed. "Fuck," he says. He rolls over, and Max is staring down at him.
"I don't think I can sleep in my clothes," Daniel says, because it's true, and because it seems important, for some reason.
"Okay," Max says.
"I need help," Daniel says. Max's face looks tight again, a little bit sad. "Are you still," Daniel starts. "Is this…did I fuck everything up?"
"No," Max says. "Don't worry."
Daniel lets Max help him out of his jeans. He falls back onto the bed.
“Daniel?” Max says. He sounds far away, underwater. Daniel can't answer. He can't think, or move, or breathe.
"Shit," Max says. His arms are under Daniel's armpits, and he's dragging Daniel backwards, until his head is at the headboard. "Breathe, Daniel," he says.
"Trying," Daniel croaks.
"Just breathe," Max says. "Slow. Try to breathe."
Daniel tries but he can't. His whole body feels like it's collapsing, crumbling inwards. He can't open his eyes. He can't make his lungs work.
"Daniel," Max says. His voice is shaking. He grabs Daniel's shoulders.
"Open your eyes, look at me," Max says, and when Daniel does, his eyes are wide, panicked.
"Just look at me," Max says. "Keep looking at me."
Daniel stares at him. Max's face is a blur. He blinks and tries again. His vision clears a little. Max is sitting on the bed, facing him. He's still wearing his clothes, his shoes.
"Just look at me," Max repeats. "You are okay. You're going to be okay. You are just really, really drunk, Daniel."
Daniel doesn’t feel drunk. He feels like he's dying. “I’m dying,” he blurts out for the hundredth time.
"You are not," Max says. "Look at me, you are not. I promise. But I am worried." Max takes a deep breath. His hands are gripping Daniel's shoulders, fingers pressing in. "You have to breathe," he says. "You have to keep looking at me. If you can't breathe, if you can't look at me, tell me. Okay?"
"Okay," Daniel says. He can't close his eyes. He can't stop looking at Max's face, the crease between his eyebrows.
Daniel takes a breath. It's too shallow, too quick, but he manages.
"Good," Max says, his hands squeezing, his face a little less pinched. "That's good, Daniel. Breathe."
Daniel breathes. His chest is tight, but it's better. "I'm dying," he says anyway. It comes out whiny, desperate, but he can't help it.
"No," Max says.
"I might be," Daniel says. He can feel tears prickling behind his eyelids. He can't cry again. He's cried enough.
"Don't cry," Max says. "Daniel. Come on. Look at me. Look at me, look at me, please, you are fine."
"I’m not," Daniel says, bottom lip trembling and Max sighs.
"Daniel did you drink something you were not supposed to?," Max says. “I mean like, did someone give you something?"
"I don't," Daniel says, shaking his head slowly.
"Please, just. Do you know if you took something?"
"I don’t feel well" Daniel whimpers pathetically. He has no idea how this happened, how he ended up here.
"I know," Max says. "Listen, you need to try and remember if you took something. It’s okay if you did.”
"I didn't," Daniel says.
"But someone, or, maybe. I don't know." Max shakes his head. "But I think you are sick, or," he says, cutting of with a sigh.
"Max, please," Daniel whines, skin burning. "Please, just. I didn’t."
"Okay, okay," Max mutters. He takes a breath, his hands still on Daniel's shoulders. "Tell me how you feel," he says.
"Fucking," Daniel says. "Dying."
"No, no, what do you feel in body?" Max asks. “Right now.”
Daniel considers. His limbs feel heavy, numb. His head feels like it's going to explode. "Everything," he says.
"What does that mean,” Max asks, sounding a little exasperated.
"My heart," Daniel says, "it's," his words are coming out wrong, slurred, and he can't explain. “Not working.”
"It's beating," Max says, putting a hand on Daniel's chest. "Feel. You can feel it."
Daniel can. His heart is hammering away in his chest.
"It's not okay," Daniel says, and bursts into tears again. He doesn't know why. He's never been so humiliated.
"Okay," Max says. "I will get you some water, okay?" Daniel tries to nod. He closes his eyes and then opens them again, terrified that something will happen, that the world will collapse in on him if he isn't watching. Max is still there, thank god, standing next to the bed.
"I'm going to get water," Max repeats.
"Can you…uh," Daniel says, before he can stop himself.
"What?" Max asks.
"Can you leave the light on," Daniel whispers.
"Yes," Max says, his voice gentle.
Max leaves and when he comes back, he sits down on the bed. He helps Daniel sit up a little and puts the glass to his lips. "Drink," he says.
The water tastes stale, metallic, and the cold makes Daniel's head throb. But he swallows, and it goes down, and the pounding in his skull eases, just a little.
"That's it," Max says, his hand on the side of Daniel's head, helping him. "Good, drink."
Daniel drinks the whole glass. His vision is a little better but his heart is still racing.
"Okay," Max says. "Can you go to sleep now?"
"Don't go," Daniel says, frantic.
"Okay, okay," Max says. "I won't, I won't."
Max gets off the bed, and for a second Daniel is terrified that he's leaving. He opens his mouth to protest, but Max is only taking his shoes and socks off. He comes back and sits on the bed, closer this time.
"You should take your shirt off as well,” Max says. "It is soaked. You can have one of mine,” he offers.
Daniel tries to lift his arms, but it's impossible. "Please," he says, sounding unbelievably pathetic. "Help."
"Yeah," Max says, his voice soft. "Of course." He peels Daniel's t-shirt off and throws it on the floor. "Better?" He asks.
"Feels so weird," Daniel says. His whole body is humming, his heart pounding, but his skin is freezing.
"You are okay," Max says. "here,” he adds, and pulls a clean shirt over Daniel's head.
"Thank you," Daniel says, into the fabric.
"Sure.” Max's fingers are warm against his scalp, his forehead. "I don't want to be alone," Daniel says, his voice small.
"I know," Max says. "I am here, okay? I will not leave."
Max helps him get settled on the bed, arranges him on his side, then lies down next to him. He moves so slowly, like he's worried that Daniel will spook, like a wild animal.
"I'm okay," Daniel says, his heart thudding. "I'm okay, I'm okay."
"Yes," Max agrees, his hand on the side of Daniel's head. "You can go to sleep, okay?" He says.
Daniel tries, but every time he closes his eyes he feels like he's sinking. He keeps his eyes open.
Max is lying next to him, propped up a little, his back against the headboard. Daniel stares at him.
"Max," he says, desperate.
"I'm here," Max says, his thumb stroking Daniel's temple.
"Max," Daniel repeats. He doesn't know how to ask for what he needs. He doesn't know what he needs.
"Shh," Max says.
"Sorry," Daniel says.
"What are you sorry for," Max asks, his voice a little sharp.
"I'm sorry," Daniel says. He feels like he's apologising for the entire night.
"Stop," Max says. "You have nothing to be sorry for."
"Okay," Daniel says. He closes his eyes and opens them again.
"But you are scaring me a little," Max says, quietly.
"I'm sorry," Daniel repeats.
"Don't," Max says.
"Max," Daniel blinks. He’s so tired. "Where’s Kelly?"
“She’s not coming back here, if that’s what you mean," Max says.
Daniel doesn’t remember what he’d meant when he asked. He doesn't really understand anything.
"You're so hot," Daniel says, his eyes fluttering closed. “And you smell so good.”
"Thank you," Max says, drily. "Go to sleep please,"
Daniel falls asleep and wakes up, over and over, disoriented. It's never fully dark in the room, and he can always feel Max next to him.
In the morning, Daniel can't believe he's still alive. He has the worst headache of his life, a bone-deep throbbing that seems to go all the way through him.
He can't open his eyes. There's a little bit of light, and it hurts. He tries to sit up, but his stomach churns, and his head throbs, and he has to go back down.
"Don't," a voice says, and it's Max, and Daniel has no idea where he is, no memory of anything.
He remembers being drunk, and he remembers being miserable, and he remembers watching Max. He doesn't remember anything else.
He feels awful. He can't even move. He's definitely never going to drink again.
"Don't sit up," Max says. "Just stay. Don't move."
Daniel wants to laugh, but he can't. "I'm so sick," he says, and his voice sounds horrible.
"Yeah," Max says.
Daniel can't open his eyes. He can't make the room stop spinning. He's going to be sick, and he has no idea where the bathroom is.
"Max," he manages. "I think I'm going to."
"I know," Max says. "It's okay." Max's voice is calm. It's nice. Daniel is still going to be sick, though.
"I'm so," Daniel starts, and then stops, and then it doesn't matter.
Max is holding a bucket, and Daniel is puking his guts out, and everything is awful. Max's hand is in his hair, pushing it back from his face. "Daniel, shh," he says. He rubs Daniel's back, his shoulders and Daniel lets himself enjoy the touch, and then he hates himself.
He's so fucked up.
When he's done vomiting, he lays back, and Max pulls the sheets up.
Daniel can feel his eyelashes fluttering, and he wants to cry, and he's not going to. He tries to remember what happened last night. Why he’s here, in Max's bed, with a hangover so bad he's going to be sick forever. “Max,” Daniel starts. “Did we fuck?” The words just spill out but Daniel has to know because he’s in Max’s bed wearing Max’s clothes and can’t remember a thing.
"What?" Max says. His hand stills on Daniel's back.
"What?" Daniel repeats.
"No," Max says.
Daniel tries to roll over, but the room spins, and he can't. A hand is stopping him anyway.
“Why would you ask that?” Max says, not unkindly though. It still makes Daniel wants to disappear.
"I," Daniel starts, and he can't speak, his throat closing. “What happened?”
"You," Max says. "You got really drunk," he says. "And you were sick, and you could not remember anything so I brought you back to my room."
"Fuck," Daniel says. His whole body feels heavy. He feels like he's falling apart. “Did I do anything weird?"
“Uhh,” Max scratches behind his ear. "No," he says. "You were not acting very normal, but nothing. Nothing weird."
Daniel feels himself flush, his cheeks burning. "What did I do?" he asks, and his voice cracks.
"Nothing," Max says, too quickly.
Daniel groans into his hand. “Max please tell me what I did," he says. "I can't. Please."
"You," Max starts. "You were really, really drunk. Um. You kissed me."
Daniel's heart stops. He doesn't breathe, doesn't move.
"And then you threw up," Max says, and he laughs a little.
"Oh my god," Daniel says. He wants to run. He can't. He can't move.
"Daniel, it is not," Max starts. "Do not worry about it."
"I'm so sorry," Daniel says. His ears are ringing, his head is pounding, and he can't even sit up because Max knows. He knows Daniel has some fucking perversion, and it's awful.
"Why," Max says. "You are my friend. I know you did not mean it."
"Yeah," Daniel says. He can't move. "Of course not."
"And you took something I think," Max says. He looks uncomfortable. "So it's okay," he says. “I mean I understand.”
"Fuck," Daniel says. That's even worse. He has no idea what happened. "What do you mean?" he asks.
"Like," Max says. "When I found you, I think. You were very, uh, high."
“Mate I’m too fucking old to be doing drugs,” Daniel squeaks, like it’s a good excuse.
Max sighs. "I don't know," he says. "I thought maybe someone gave you something, maybe. You were acting, you were saying…it is not something someone would take themselves, I mean.”
"What did I say?" Daniel groans. He really doesn’t want to know.
"Um," Max says. He won't look at Daniel.
"Please tell me," Daniel says.
"Okay," Max says. "You were," he starts. "You were, uh, crying, and saying you were, I don't know, telling me you were dying. I thought maybe, someone had given you something because you did not seem…normal.”
"Jesus christ," Daniel says. His chest hurts, his head is spinning, and he can't fucking remember anything. He wants to die.
"Hey," Max says.
"This is…" Daniel says, and he doesn't finish. He has to leave. He's a mess, and he can't look at Max. He can't be around Max anymore.
"Where are you going," Max asks.
"My flight," Daniel says. "I have to. My flight."
"It's still early," Max says.
Daniel tries to stand up, and his knees buckle.
"Stop," Max says. He catches Daniel. "What are you doing."
"I need to," Daniel says. He's shaking.
"You need to lay down," Max says. "And then I will take you to the airport."
"I have a flight," Daniel says. He can't sit.
"Not until later," Max says. "Come on. Please."
He helps Daniel lay down, and Daniel feels like a child. He's humiliated, and he's tired, and his body won't cooperate. Max tucks him in, and Daniel wants to cry. Max is next to him, his body close and warm. It feels too much like home and for a moment before he passes out again, Daniel lets himself pretend this is real.