Chapter Text
Maxim awoke with an uncanny clarity, the fog in his head that had cleared overnight. His conflicted thoughts were still scrambled in his head and this mess only became more coherent, not any less troublesome to deal with. It hurt to think, much less move but he looked down to see Timur was still asleep in his arms, his cheek pressed against Maxim’s chest and he looked peaceful. It would be cruel to disturb him, so Maxim allowed this moment to last. The weight of Timur’s body against him was pleasant and he wouldn’t mind this for the rest of his life, having Timur’s face buried against his chest while his thick thigh crossed over Maxim’s, locking him in place against the thin mattress.
Though now that he had returned to the very same headspace that shied away from the intimacy of loving Timur, Maxim was at a loss for what to do. To lead him on would be the greatest act of betrayal Maxim could commit to Timur and himself, but in no way was he trying to deceive him. Their feelings were mutual, at this point Maxim was past the point of denying it and now he acknowledged the intensity of it, how mad it drove him.
He did not want to sever this bond between them. It was sustaining to him and he needed it despite his previous efforts to suppress it, no matter how much turmoil it put him through. In fact, now he was desperate to convince himself this was not something he could control and he needed to allow himself to feel this happiness or it would ruin him.
What he felt for Timur was so fierce that it threatened to tear a hole in his heart if he dared to try and tame it. It was a beast that made him act in ways he would never imagine himself doing so. It made him lustful, he wanted to ravage Timur whole and claim him for himself. When it came to others, Maxim was overcome with jealousy despite knowing those people were merely friends or colleagues. Once alone with Timur in his thoughts, Maxim desired nothing but to love him so tenderly, feel the softness of his skin and the rigidity of his muscular body. Yet the second Timur gave him any exclusive attention Maxim unknowingly demanded, it became instinctual for him to close himself off.
In order to allow Timur to get close, Maxim would have to ignore every instinct in him, the reflexes he built over the years to protect himself and it was far easier to reflect upon than it was to put it into practice.
The warm sensation of Timur’s hand against Maxim’s cheek brought him out of his thoughts.
“How are you feeling?” Timur asked him, his voice a quiet croak in the early morning.
There was noise stirring outside their room of their colleagues getting up for breakfast, readying to leave. Maxim groaned as he tried to move, every muscle in his body aching and his joints were stiff from the impact of the explosion. “Like shit,” he muttered back and earned himself a sympathetic smile, one which he badly wanted to return yet all he managed was a furrowing of his brows. “Haven’t had a cigarette since…” he paused and jogged his memory but to no avail, he could hardly recall the past two days. Clearing his throat, he braced himself to sit up, to make a great escape from the heat of the bed which made him clammy all over. It seemed the simple act of speaking to Timur in this close proximity was enough to make him flee. “We need to get up.”
At his cold tone, Timur’s expression faltered. He watched Maxim pull his boots on, raising himself up on his elbows. At the disappointed frown darkening Timur’s expression, Maxim’s stomach coiled and writhed with discomfort. He wished he was able to give Timur what he deserved but affections never came easy, if at all. The silence plunged through his chest in an aching pain and Maxim’s once-steady hands began to fidget with his medication. By the time he managed to pop two painkillers out of their blister packaging, Timur handed him a bottle of water and squeezed his shoulder as he passed to his side of the room.
The contact made everything within Maxim come to a halt. Even though there was a strained tension between them that could not be remedied by pretending everything was alright, Timur still had these automatic responses within him like the need to touch Maxim, and Maxim could never look at him in the same way, he couldn’t ignore the caring glances anymore. It would be impossible to ever go back to what they were before all of this.
At one point there was the opportunity to bail out and Maxim thought it was when he had declared they would go back to what they once were before the kiss, but in hindsight, he’d fallen in deep by then, given in to his desires by the time he allowed thoughts of Timur to swarm every space in his mind. He had been fighting with the conflict in his heart for the longest time and it brought him to where he was now, hopeless with a horrible feeling as if he had ruined everything. Feel down he wished the circumstances were different. That he didn’t mess this all up, that Timur wasn’t upset.
It was impossible not to think about the shift in Timur’s mood and despite what Maxim had done to him, Timur continued to care for him. Masking the sting to his heart with concentration, Timur helped apply clean dressings to his wounds, insisting to do it when Maxim was adamant he would sort it out. It was these minor things that drove Maxim to recede further into himself. He loathed himself for hurting Timur, for his greed and his lust that drove them into this painful stalemate. Although he could never turn the blame on Timur, he couldn’t find it within himself to hate him for giving so much, even when his affections became the source of Maxim’s frustrations at himself.
Timur’s heart was made of gold, and gold was a delicate, soft material.
They caught a quick breakfast, forcing themselves to chew on something even if they had no appetite from yesterday’s mission. With a mug of black coffee, Maxim retreated out the side-door of the canteen and settled against the railings of the raised walkway. He questioned why Timur would choose to follow him and his brain toyed with the morbid idea that Timur would rather bear with their mangled relationship than to linger around anyone else. It was a peculiar thought indeed, one which had him craving for the answer.
Cigarette. His brain darted incessantly between either wanting a smoke or wanting Timur and Maxim couldn’t catch a break. The first drag relieved something deep within and he savoured it for the longest time that he did not notice Timur’s eager stare. Then he offered him one as well and shielded the flame from the morning gust as Timur leaned in to get a light.
“Leech,” Maxim teased him under his breath, his mood immediately lifted from the warm buzz of nicotine flooding his body. Timur responded with a small smile before he looked elsewhere and he took light puffs of his cigarette, acclimating himself to the harsh acridness of it. Part of Maxim was relieved to see his expression brighten but it was still clear that something bothered him. “Hey,” Maxim spoke up after a pause. It had been itching at him for the past hour, he couldn’t endure it for another. Nudging Timur with his elbow, he looked over and studied Timur’s furrowed brows, the way he propped his head up on his hand with a finger rubbing away at that scar on his right eye as he leaned against the dewy railings. “What’s the matter?”
Timur withdrew his hand and stood up straight. He exhaled the smoke in his lungs with a small sigh then swallowed thickly, trying to rid the taste at the back of his throat. “We should talk about this when we get home,” he suggested in a low voice but Maxim’s steady gaze did not budge. Timur searched for the right words during the pause, wishing he wasn’t forced to confront Maxim now. “You don’t see it? This dance we keep doing, where I take one step forward, you take two steps back. Sometimes you take five steps forward and I don’t have a clue what you want from me. Tell me what you fucking want, Maxim. Stop- stop playing with me.”
The sharp look from those blue eyes could reopen Maxim’s wounds and the tone of Timur’s voice was a sucker punch to the gut, knocking the air out of his lungs. Maxim couldn’t find the strength to make eye contact, overwhelmed by his own shame, though this was not shame over who he was, but his behaviour towards him. “I…” he began but there was no coherent response that came to mind. All he could do was admit, “I don’t know.”
Timur’s shoulders tensed with frustration and he sucked on his cigarette, filling his lungs as if he hoped it would help quell his anger. The cigarette seemed to disgust him yet he took a drag like to dispel a bad taste lingering at the back of his throat, mask it with the taste of smoke because it was much more bearable.
“Do you want me? Or am I no different to you than some hookup? Because sometimes I feel like you’re doing all of this because you feel obligated to,” he said in a sudden outburst and the worst sensation settled in the pit of Maxim’s stomach. The knowledge that Timur was upset at him. “Just tell me how you feel. I can let you go, but don’t make me believe that we had something. I know I ruined us but please, please give me the truth. You’re fucking killing me.”
Timur’s eyes searched for answers, hoping that Maxim would grant him mercy in any shape or form, may that be in rejection or the confession he had dreamed of in ten million different possibilities. Before Maxim could give a tragic answer his concussed brain conjured at the last second, the door opened and they looked over. Alexsandr paused, realising he interrupted something.
“We’re leaving soon,” Alexsandr told them then he briskly left to give them some privacy.
In the heat of the moment with all his emotions boiling inside of him threatening to bubble over, Timur stubbed out his cigarette and left after Alexsandr, leaving Maxim standing on the walkway alone with his thoughts. He returned his gaze to the horizon where a number of trucks were on standby, idling as they waited for the operatives to file into them. This conversation would have to wait until later and Maxim decided he needed to use this time to sort out his thoughts, regardless of whether it was over a few hours or several days. Timur deserved it.
They didn’t sit next to each other for the flight home, nor did they speak during the afternoon and what led into the evening. It was safer that way. Maxim closed himself from the outside world while he tried to make sense of his disjointed feelings, of what he wanted in life and what his future held for him. The doctor back in Germany had specifically instructed him that alcohol and painkillers don’t mix, but Maxim was never one for listening to others or instilling good habits.
He hoped the alcohol would rest his thoughts, dampen the overwhelming energy of it.
Chain-smoking didn’t help, instead it only added to the suffocating tightening of his thoughts around him like a python squeezing each gasping breath from its prey. Yet he continued to do it, lighting one after the other in hopes maybe this one would help him cope.
If only Timur could save him, but after some reflection Maxim realised he needed to save himself. In a desperate struggle, he needed to confront not only his prejudices but who he was as a person, to accept that person. He loved Timur and perhaps in the same self-sacrificial manner as Timur longed after him, Maxim would expose himself to the very pain he had been avoiding for months now.
For a while Maxim contemplated over this, this frightening knowledge that there was only one path he could take in pursuit of his happiness. He feared suffering, the mental anguish. It was always easier to bury his burdens deep and suppress them until the pressure of uncovering them became too dangerous to do and the only option was to ignore it. Although, he feared losing Timur far more. Maxim was afraid he wouldn’t be able to come across anyone else that had such unconditional patience, especially for him. To lose this warmth and be cast into cold solitude for the rest of his life, Maxim couldn’t bear the prospect of it.
The door to their dorms opened, releasing the smog of cigarette smoke that had been pent up inside the small space. Administration would have a word with Maxim soon, but at this moment he couldn't care less. He watched as Timur staggered in and wrinkled his nose at the pungent scent. By now he had gotten used to the smell, however Maxim always had the decency to step outside for a smoke.
From the casual jeans and the t-shirt that clung to his torso, Timur had been down at the pub. Maxim could see it in his flushed cheeks and his unsteady movements. He questioned if he went out to drown his sorrows in pints of beer or if he’d gone to socialise. That didn’t matter. As Maxim rose to his feet, Timur withdrew his gaze to the floor, stiffening when he neared.
“What do you want?” Timur’s voice was barely a mutter, his cold tone hoping to discourage Maxim but with no success. Maxim continued to pursue him when Timur stepped backwards. His body brushed against the closed door of their dorms and Maxim pressed his lips against Timur’s cheek, hoping it would remedy his broken heart. “Don’t do this to me,” Timur whispered and he clenched his jaw, imploring him to stop as he pressed his palm against Maxim’s chest, but he struggled to find the strength to deny him. “I can’t.”
Rejection constricted around Maxim’s chest and he tasted his own medicine, the bitter sting of the man he loved refusing his affections. “Listen to me.” He cupped Timur’s cheek to capture his eyes, hoping he would realise that his supplication was not driven by lust. “I- I want you. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry for pushing you away.”
There was only so much an apology could do. Timur closed his eyes for a moment and he took in a deep breath through his nose, the stench of the smoke making him nauseous and he choked up. He steeled his expression and shouldered past Maxim, stepping towards the centre of the room where he had his back turned to him. It wasn’t that Timur did not accept Maxim’s apology, but after so many fleeting moments where he had been led to believe that Maxim was capable of loving him, he did not know if he could trust him.
“I’ve been so… confused for the longest time but the only thing I know is that I don’t want to be with anyone else but you, Timur. Maybe this is who I am, maybe I like men but- fuck, all I know is that I want you, okay?” Maxim was losing his grasp on him and it filled every crevice of his body with an indescribable anxiety. Now these truths slipped from him and he did not know he was capable of speaking in such an honest, ardent way. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you. And I keep wasting all my second-chances, I keep fucking up.”
Self-perseverance was part of survival and Timur wavered on the precipice of protecting himself or allowing himself to get hurt again. He turned to look at Maxim’s guilty expression. “You say this now but in a couple days time, you’ll run away like you always do,” he said, his voice trembling but he held himself together- barely. “But it’s fine, right? Because you’re concussed, you’re drunk, you’re only saying this because of the mission. And I’ll believe in what you say because I’m too stupid and hopeful to think you love me.”
Timur’s words were laced with betrayal, of an abandonment that ran deep within. It devastated Maxim to hurt him like that and his throat ached, stiff with tension.
“You say you don’t want to lose me. but when you pull away from me like that, every single damn time I lose you. Do you have any idea how much it hurts?” Timur continued to speak, seeing as Maxim couldn’t think of anything to say. Then in a weak mumble, Timur managed to implore, “I just want you to love me back, Maxim.”
It was difficult to see tears glimmering in those blue eyes Maxim adored so much. While he always teased Timur for being soft, he knew that Timur wasn’t weak in any way. To watch him fall apart like this reminded Maxim of the anguish he caused Timur and nothing else could make him feel more like a monster than that.
“I do love you,” The confession slipped from Maxim. “And I want to love you but it’s not easy. I try so hard but my brain- my mind— If… if you will give me another chance, I want to make you happy, Timur. I’m tired of hurting you again and again, you deserve better. I’m trying so hard to change, if you will just- please. I’m sorry.”
At the first fall of his tears, Timur immediately wiped it away with the back of his hand and he swallowed back something painful. His hands balled into fists by his sides, he didn’t allow himself to cry. His lips, which pressed into a tight, thin line, quivered as he tried to speak but his emotions were overwhelming and he couldn’t utter a single word.
There was a force that existed between the two of them, a gravitation which only grew stronger at the sight of Timur breaking and Maxim stepped forwards to gather him within his arms. His body trembled and shook, hot tears soaked the cotton of Maxim’s t-shirt where Timur buried his face into his neck, instinctively searching for the safe darkness. Maxim’s bruised ribs ached at their crushing embrace but he knew it would be a million times more agonising if he had to live a reality where they parted ways.
Holding Timur’s head steady, Maxim wiped away the tracks of his tears with his thumb then pressed his lips against Timur’s forehead. He peppered more kisses, one to the raised scar that intercepted Timur’s brow, another to the freckle on his right cheek before finding his lips. Timur accepted his kiss, taking in a shaky breath as he savoured the sensation and Maxim hoped his touch could placate him. He never liked seeing Timur cry and being the reason for it was all the worse.
There was a lasting silence where Timur managed to steady his sniffling breaths. Their foreheads made contact and remained touching as they held one another, not wanting to let go for even a second. It hadn’t crossed Maxim’s mind once that he was holding another man, loving him with all his heart. What used to consume his consciousness whole with wrongness and shame no longer had its hold over him and he wouldn’t allow it to. Timur was far more important to Maxim and he had earnestly taken in what Timur said.
Maxim was done running away.
His palm ran in soothing circles on Timur’s muscled back, smoothing over the warm cotton of his shirt and he nuzzled his face against Timur’s. The sensation of his overgrown stubble made the corners of Timur’s lips flicker upwards at the ticklish feeling and he looked at Maxim in such a gentle manner that had his chest tightening at the very idea that such an ethereal being loved him.
Enthralled by him, his blue eyes, the heat radiating from his body to his absolute, unwarranted devotion, Maxim could barely comprehend his own feelings for Timur in that very moment. To be graced with such forgiveness after everything, Maxim felt like he had been granted salvation. All he knew was that he desired growth, to become the person Timur deserved, to bloom into someone he deserved for himself too.
To cultivate an unyielding love for the man within his arms.