84. COUPLE THINGS

/Max/

The Fort seen at sunset is indeed very romantic. 
I'm not particularly interested in excavations and the like, honestly, but I think it's my father's fault, who set me up to be a driver and that's it. 
Every breath of my time since birth has always been manipulated to turn me into a driver, and in the end I became one; I can even say that I'm a successful driver, in fact, but that's all I am. 
Until now. Now I'm also a lover who is with the boy of his dreams. 
Now I'm also something different from what I've always been, and that's thanks to Charles, so it's not that I'm pleasing him because I'm compliant, I'm pleasing him because I feed on the joy that comes from him doing something together. It comes naturally to me to do what he wants. I see him observing with interest, reading the inscriptions which he obviously explains to me, convinced that they interest me too, and I continue to photograph him as he gazes at his beloved Fort, about which he now has an unlimited knowledge. 
The view at sunset with the lights coming on for the evening is very suggestive and we take another photo together. Charles makes me retake it at least five times because he wants the perfect shot here, where not only do we both have to look great, but the Fort has to be clearly visible, and we all have to be hit with the right light. 
At the umpteenth: - No, that's no good! - even though I love all this with him because it’s very couple thing, I'm about to tell him to go fuck himself, and with a sharp: - Now it's the last one, I'm pissed off! - I actually get the last shot. 
A really nice shot, I have to say, but not because of me, since he's the one who makes the photos beautiful and certainly not me. 
After I get his approval, I theatrically throw up my arms, thanking heaven for the end of the torture; I don't like being photographed. As soon as he stops his favorite obsession, I start comparing the last photo with the other five, deleting the ones that don't work. I get a bit lost, but after selecting I put them all with the others in the album dedicated to us, which is obviously hidden and password-protected 
For me it’s important to photographing him because he's the one I want to see again whenever I feel like it or miss him, just as I did with the photo of his beautiful cock when we weren't together yet and we were just flirting. He, on the other hand, took tons of photos, even just of objects and landscapes we visited—of course, he took me too, but always with the background visible, whether it was the Fort, the aquarium, or the city. 
He's meticulous like few others, but I'll keep him that way. 
As I quickly get to work on the photos to avoid any future surprises, I hear his voice exclaiming enthusiastically: - Oh, I finally did it! 
Distracted by his happy tone, I look at him to see what he's talking about and he exuberantly rushes over to me, clings to my arm and shows me his screen, where I'm with my head down and frowning, working on my phone. The sun is behind me, creating a very evocative and artistic play of light and shadow, coloring me a beautiful orange. 
It's a beautiful photo, indeed, but I'm not one for particularly admiring myself, so I'm happier that he's happy with the photo itself. 
When he takes a good one, he's enthusiastic because he cares about always coming out well; in fact, he retakes them until the results are more than satisfactory. He obviously likes himself and it's clear that he wants to come well. He's a bit vain, but he can afford it since he's objectively beautiful; I would be too in his place. 
For me, it's different. 
I don't like taking pictures of myself, nor being photographed, nor looking at myself again. If I do it, it's always for work or because someone cares and then I indulge them; in this case, pleasing Charles is vital, so I'm not particularly touched by the photo even though it’s objectively beautiful, but I'm happy that he's super happy, and if he's super happy, I am too. 
- Mmm, wow! - I say with less enthusiasm than he expected. As always, I can't lie.
- But Max, it's a beautiful photo, why don't you show enthusiasm? You came out great! - Charles, bloodhound version, sniffs out yet another clue that could lead him to a part of me I always try to hide. 
- Yeah, well, it's beautiful… - I belittle, acting vague. 
I start walking away putting my phone and hands in my pockets, as if it were no big deal, but he grabs my wrist and pulls until he turns me against him and puts his arms around me.
The site is closing and now it's just us, so we're more relaxed. 
I welcome him against me, wrapping my arms around him in turn, our bodies leaning against each other and this reassures me and makes me happy. That's what matters. Him on me, him with me, him being my boyfriend, him being affectionate and sweet, him bossing me to get me to do what he wants. These are the things I like. Not the photos he takes of me. 
Charles is extremely expressive when he's alone with me, even though he used to be illegible, now I can read him clearly. He saw something and now he's scrutinizing it. 
What do you see, Charlie? 
What a silly question. He's about to tell me anyway. 
- Why do you take so many photos of me but don't like me taking pictures of you?
His searching green eyes are too close and too beautiful for not to be able to see me clearly and understand; in fact he does, I notice immediately. 
I shrug and pretend I don't know what he's talking about, but he sighs and caresses my face, which he's clearly obsessed with. I love that he is; it makes me feel special, and it's nice to feel special. For years I thought I wanted to be normal like everyone else, then I got together with him and realized I wanted to be special. Special for him.
His fingers trace my face, where I've let a slight stubble grow, only because he told me to, convinced it suits me. For me it was the same, since I don't like myself anyway. Sometimes I let it grow because I hate cutting it every day, not because I like myself. For him it's always a specific aesthetic choice, no matter what he does, every hair on his body, especially on his face. He's obsessive about everything of himself, but the results are exceptional, so it's a good thing.
- Don’t you like yourself? - and as always, he gets to the point. 
- Not particularly. - I admit, as if weren't the revelation of the year. 
He purses his lips in disapproval. 
- You’re beautiful, though. - I laugh cheerfully. 
- You are beautiful! - I point out, becoming serious again.
- Yes… - he admits with a knowing smile, wanting to lighten a strange situation. - But you are too. You have your beauty. Just because you don't see it doesn't mean you're not beautiful. And even if you were ugly, I'd still photograph you, because you make me happy, and I want to photograph everything that makes me happy. 
He's more skilled than he realizes. 
He tells me something I should work on and then gives me a way out so I don't have to do it right away. But he's already told me and knows I'll work on it slowly, on my own. We won't address it right away so as not to weigh down this wonderful day and this perfect moment, but we will address it because the topic has already been brought up. Just like he's doing with the conversation about my father, which has been on the table for much longer than it seems.
This guy is a natural manipulator, a pure talent. 
I smile, surrendering to the fact that one day we'll have this discussion as well as the one about my father; when I feel ready after all the constant jabs he'll throw at me until, to make him stop, I finally talk about it. 
I have self-esteem issues, it's no secret. And it's probably my father's fault. But it doesn't matter because now I'm happy. I'm with the person I've always wanted and I don't care about myself, only him. 
So I simply press my lips to his, knowing that in this wonderful place we're alone now and everything is fine. I just need to be able to kiss him, feel his body on mine, and feel his warmth. 
We're together, we're a couple, nothing else matters to me now. 

Charles' face says it all as soon as he steps out of the car that took us to the Royal Camel Farm. 
My love is so relaxed with me that he's completely incapable of maintaining composure with his gorgeous face, and I'm particularly proud of this; in fact, I keep pointing it out proudly. It's like my new favorite pastime: translating Charles' faces!
As soon as I see his little nose wrinkle and his mouth curve downward, I'm immediately on the right track. 
- Is it the smell? - Charles, wearing dark glasses doesn't let me see his eyes, which are undoubtedly wide open in an extremely natural way; he simply nods wildly.
So I'm already laughing, amused, without realizing that this is only the prelude. 
- Doesn’t His Majesty like strong smells? 
- Strong smells? Call them strong smells! That's a stink, Max! Use the right terms! 
He doesn't correct me on 'His Majesty' but on 'strong smell.' It drives me crazy!
I keep laughing and he ignores me, walking straight ahead as if he were truly a distinguished prince. Usually he turns to look at me stupidly and laughs with me, but this time he doesn't. 
We're at the Royal Farm, or whatever the hell this place is called, where they keep camels. Or what we thought were camels. 
And to think that he only wrote this activity because it was on the list of recommended things, but not because he was interested in doing it. 
I'm not either, to be honest; I've never cared about animals except cats, and certainly not camels, but when I saw 'camels' on his list, I had a sixth sense and I hooked him like a bloodhound. 
Now I'm about to discover something that will change my life, I'm sure of it. It will certainly change the way I look at Charles.” 

/Charles/

“I hate camels, I hate any animal that emits excessive stink. 
And he can use whatever terms he wants, but this is stink. It stinks. It stinks!
They must keep them clean since it's a tourist farm, but they still stink and I wish to wear masks, damn it! 
Why aren't masks? 
Why? 
WHY? 
Despite myself, I manage to remain silent and rigid until we reach the enclosures with the many animals mentioned. 
Too bad they're not camels, as they are portrayed on every poster. 
- And by the way, they're dromedaries! - I blurt out acidly.
I don't do it on purpose, I realize it too late. I realize it precisely by the shocked look on Max's face, which isn't shocked by the revelation that they're not camels but dromedaries, but by my annoyed schoolteacher tone and the very fact that I'm specifying it as if it were an accusation. 
In short I'm bringing out one of my worst sides. 
When I don't like something or I disagree with something, I become not only argumentative but downright mean. Because it's like Max has always said, in reality I'm not an angel but a devil. I'm a complete asshole. I'm an antagonist, not a hero like everyone sees me, and the only one who's always known it is the one staring at me now, laughing. 
I'm glad he's laughing; I can't even do it, even though I normally can. 
- Come on, stop it and enjoy your dromedaries, because the sooner you do it, the sooner this torment will be over. I'm about to faint from the smell!
My tongue won't hold back, just as I can't control my tone, and he continues to laugh amusedly. He approaches the enclosure and as soon as he does, the animals approach humans, well-trained; he touches and caresses them with great ease. He seems to like them quite a bit, but he's still laughing at me, as I stand at a safe distance. 
- Come on, touch them, they're delicious! - he says, turning toward me. I grimace and shake my head. I frantically pull out my phone to take a photo of him. Maybe he'll stop bothering me if I take a picture of him; I know he doesn't like it. 
Max rolls his eyes as soon as he sees my intention and goes back to petting the dromedaries. We'll discuss this soon, he knows we will, but I'll leave him with the illusion that he's the one choosing the best moment, even though I'll be the one deciding and making him do it. 
Manipulative. Another splendid characteristic to add to the others of the perfect antagonist. 
Max loses himself a bit in petting the camels and follows the guides' instructions as they tell him how to feed them. Without batting an eyelid and showing not the slightest trace of disgust or fear, he does everything, bringing his precious hands shockingly close to their considerably large mouths. 
They may be trained, but they're incredibly huge. How can we know when a trained creature will decide to turn around and rip someone's hand off? 
The whole time my Max's hand is in those beasts' mouths, I hold my breath convinced I have to intervene quickly and take him away. My heart actually jumps in my throat and pounds; I'm terrified for him! 
I'm going to climb ice mountains and I'm afraid of dromedaries. 
Fine. 
Big animals, that's why I'm afraid. They're too big! 
But maybe it's more the smell that bothers me! 
This goes on for a while, until the farm manager, after showing us around a bit and explaining everything, tells us that if we want we can also take a little camel tour of the area. 
At which point, while I correct the guy who's getting on my nerves by specifying that they're 'dromedaries,' Max replies: - Yes, we want! - and as soon as he says it, I turn to him abruptly, simultaneously taking off my sunglasses to make sure I can see him clearly. 
Max pretends to notice me late and shrugs as if what he said was no big deal. 
- What, you don't like it? I've already ridden camels years ago... - then he corrects himself, rolling his eyes: - or dromedaries... - now I'm going to strangle him. - It was fun. I even played camel polo with Alex and some other Arab strangers! That was cool! 
I guess he's talking about things for Red Bull, I couldn't care less! It was enough for me when they forced me to carry a huge snake on my shoulders. 
I'm about to tell him to go fuck himself, he's doing it on purpose because he saw I don't like them, and since I'm trying to make him do something he doesn't want to do—talk about his weaknesses, his father, his self-esteem—the little gentleman is getting his revenge like this. But it's not fair, I'm trying to help him, he's just trying to torture me! 
I'm about to bring out one of my worst sides again, adding it to the list of the perfect antagonist—in this case, my arrogance—but then I see him petting and cuddling a dromedary, and he does it with a genuinely sweet smile. I guess not as sweet as when he petts me, I hope, but he's still genuinely touched by the little animal which I think he actually likes, even though I had no idea. 
I know he loves cats and doesn't mind dogs, but dromedaries, really...
- Well, if you don't like it, it's okay, I won't force you to do something you don't want to do, obviously! 
He doesn't sound disappointed, the kind that makes you feel guilty, but I think he'd like it. Besides, during the whole vacation, it was actually the only thing he asked to do, so I think I need to soften up. 
But I hate these animals. 
Damn!
- Well, if you're afraid of them, I can't help it. - you’re so clever. As soon as I hear this, I realize I'd be an idiot to be afraid of something that doesn't bother him in the slightest, so as always, like a certified idiot, I fall into his trap and agree to submit to torture. 
- All right, let's do it! - God forbid anyone would say he wasn't afraid of something that terrified me! 
- It’s not that I'm afraid of them, they just disgust me, but not afraid! - I then point out.
‘Disgust’ is a strong word, but it helps to convey the idea. 
So Max exults like a child, daring to touch me with the same hand that touched the beast, but I immediately push him away, not because of the risk of being recognized, but because of the stench in his hands after spending too much time on those giant things. 
Max continues to laugh anyway, and I want to kill him for manipulating me, but since that's what I tend to do with him, let's just say I deserve it and we're even. A question of karma, some might say. 
Finally, I sigh and confirm with the guide that we want to take a ride on these things. 
I'll regret it. I know I'll bitterly regret it. 
But Max is happy anyway, I don't know if for the ride itself or for having won something against me. Knowing him, it's the latter. 
However, if he's happy, so am I. Like an idiot. Pathetic. Pathetic idiot. 

But I really regret it. 
We'll be accompanied by two guides because we've expressed the desire to travel side by side, not one behind the other, since each dromedary follows the one in front with a rope. 
Furthermore, since we're two men of a certain size, not two children or two light girls, they let us each climb onto a dromedary, after properly equipping us and putting on one of their sun hats; the cloth falls over our heads, forehead, part of our face, and our necks to cover us well. 
After this, they instruct us on how to climb onto the dromedary. I listen, but I'm stuck at the fact that instructions are needed to climb onto it: this doesn't make me feel at ease. 
Max climbs on first and he does so without any major problems, but it's clear he's done it before and knew what he was doing. He doesn't grimace, he doesn't shout, he doesn't hold himself up like a madman. 
Those are all things I do, while my heart jumps into my throat, and I silently correct the moment I declared they didn't scare me. 
Maybe they do scare me a little. 
As it sways back and forth giving me the terrifying sensation of being thrown off, I see myself splattered on the ground and my stomach turns. I almost vomit and I don't do it only because I scream. 
Well, yes. 
I scream. 
Not that I wanted to, I was hoping to avoid it, but from my face, spontaneously contorted in a grimace that's a mix of disgust and terror, a scream also escapes, which only stops when the dromedary stands up straight and everything stops. For a moment. 
Just enough for the guides who are pulling us to start off. 
The dromedaries, tied with ropes to the ones in front of the two guides, follow theirs, moving together and quickly exit the large farm. 
My stomach tightens again as I swing to the top of this shaky mountain, and with every step I'm sure I'll fall and smash to the ground, but Max seems too amused to realize the danger we're in and prefers to film me. 
Hey, wait! He's recording me. 
HE'S RECORDING ME! 
He recorded my pathetic, hysterical tantrums. 
Nice try, Charles! Now that you've completely lost face with your boyfriend, he'll blackmail you. Do you like it like this? 
Why the hell couldn't you admit you were scared and avoid "competing" with him again? 
My brain hasn't figured out a thing except that he wasn't scared and I was, and I've gone into automatic mode. 
Now I'm paying for it.
I can't return the favor, or even take a picture of him. I'm gripping the ropes convulsively, as well as my legs, which I think will burn with pain tonight. 
- You’re going to have sex alone tonight. My legs are going to hurt so bad from how much I'm squeezing them in fear! 
- So you admit you're scared? 
- Doesn’t it show, you idiot? 
- You should have just admitted it before! 
- You should have just kept quiet!
But Max laughs heartily, and his laughter has a strange function that I'm only just discovering. 
It relaxes me. 
I mean, seriously. Usually I love watching him laugh and it's contagious, but now that I'm terrified and tense like never before, I feel absurdly physically relaxed. Both my muscles and my hands. 
I watch him laugh and enjoy himself as he takes in the landscape, feeling like the king of the world from up here, and he likes it. He likes it enormously, I can tell he likes it. His face is bright red from the hot sun, but also from excitement. 
I don't know how he likes all this, but the only thing I like is him. Him in general, and him in particular, having so much fun, marveling at something he sees far away in this endless expanse of desert. 
- How’s it going? - he asks after a while, after he's stopped hearing me yelling and threatening left and right. When he asks, I realize I'm actually feeling better, and I look at him in surprise, my lips curling downward. 
- Better… 
He smiles again, sweeter and happier. 
- Will we do it again? - he asks hopefully.
- Not even dead. - with this immediate, sharp response, he laughs again and I shake my head, rolling my eyes. He's got me under his thumb, and maybe he's just realized it. I don't know if he knew it before, but now he does. 
It's not like I'm the one guiding and managing our relationship and deciding everything. I do it because he makes me do it, otherwise it would be the same old war. But as long as he wants me to do it, then I'll do it because it means that's what he needs, and I want nothing more than to take care of him. 
I'll always be there, the way you want and need me to be. 
And even though I hate this experience with all my heart, I'll never forget it because it was what you wanted to do and what you probably enjoyed more than anything else. 
But I'll find other things you like that you hide out of habit. I'll find everything you don't want to show and I'll bring it out. I'll take care of you, Maxie. You'll see.” 

NOTES: I've never been on a dromedary, but I've done some research on that farm and how those beasts are ridden, so I imagined Charles hysterical, like that time with a snake around his neck or when he was chased by a monkey. Meanwhile, I imagine Max having fun in every situation and teasing him.
It’s obvious I love Max’s laugh, right? As well as Charles's expressiveness, which at a certain point in his life he gave us so much.
Their dynamic as a couple drives me crazy; I had a lot of fun writing certain scenes.
Every now and then I insert things that concern Max's journey (as mentioned, we're moving more towards him here, but it's a fairly gradual process). Until next time. Kisses, Akane