☔☔☔☔!! im very much assuming that this is ciwtr.... hit me with the angst..
And when he steps into the hospital room, he knows it’s true. Max is dead. Has been from the beginning. You can’t compare someone to Senna as often as Max had and expect him to live a long life. You can’t expect Charles to care about someone and for them to live long. It was just the way things were.
GP is there. That surprises him, though maybe it shouldn’t. He expects Sophie, maybe Victoria, but not GP.
“Hello Charles,” He says quietly, rising from the chair beside the bed, closing the book he had been reading. “I didn’t know you were stopping by.”
“Oh- uhm- I am sorry I did not think-”
“No, no it’s fine. I’m sure he’s glad you’re here.”
Charles looks at the “he” in question, lying pale in the hospital bed. Well what can be seen of him. He doesn’t look like Max. Not really. And maybe that makes it easier. If it’s not Max. If it’s someone else with a tube shoved down his throat, machines breathing for him, bruised eyes not even fluttering behind closed lids. His right arm is in a cast, his right leg still in some form of traction. Charles wonders why they’re even trying. Max was dead before it started.
