Max can't remember when he fell for Nev. He has just always loved him. The half smirk of his smile, his ridiculous belief in true love, his adorable, crooked eyebrow. Growing up friends with Rel, the love for Nev started out as an innocent schoolboy crush. Max would sneak looks at Nev in his boxer briefs while they changed for gym class, or use pushing Nev into the lake at summer camp in high school as an excuse to touch the soft, dark hair on Nev's chest on repeat. By high school, he was well and truly head-over-heels.
But Nev wasn't gay. At least, he wasn't out. And if he was going to come out, why would it not be to Max, who had been out as pansexual since the seventh grade? None of their other close friends were gay, so it would only make sense in Max's mind that Nev would confide in him if the latter were to be queer himself. But that hadn't happened, so Max had never done anything about his feelings. Well, that's not entirely true. He did plenty about his feelings when he was alone at night. Nev had, unknowingly, been a part of making Max come apart for almost a decade now.
And that is why, 6 months ago when Nev asked a freshly graduated Max to work on a new MTV show together, Max jumped on the chance. Sure, it was also a wonderful opportunity for Max's film career, but getting to work closely with Nev, partial to the sounds of him falling asleep at night or brushing his teeth in the morning, was just too enticing to pass up.
What he hadn't expected, though, was how Nev was going to behave. Or rather, how little he was going to behave. Growing up, Max never felt Nev was flirting with him. Nev had a string of girlfriends throughout their youth, and Max just never entertained the idea they could be together—to be honest, it was too painful and Max would rather have Nev's friendship than nothing at all. When they started prep and filming, Max could have sworn he saw sparks in Nev's gorgeous, sparkly, dark eyes. He tried desperately to ignore when Nev would casually reach over his lap to grab something, seemingly oblivious to the uncontrollable jerk in his pants that Max tried dramatically to conceal. Max absolutely would not let his mind wander when Nev playfully shoved his chest after a cheesy joke, or bit his full lower lip ever so slightly when Max was doing something especially silly.
The only respite Max had was late at night when Nev was quietly, rhythmically breathing in his own ful bed, and Max could relive every delicious interaction from the day, sometimes finishing two or three times before he could fall into a restless sleep, never lasting more than 5 or so hours before getting up to do it all over again. It wasn't much, but it was better then nothing.
Tonight, Max was annoyed. It had been an unusually grueling day for the pair, finding out the girl they were helping was also a catfish, and MTV had been snarky and rude about it. Their Uber Eats was late, and lukewarm at that, and Nev was frustratingly calm about the whole thing. Did anything work this man up? Jesus Christ.
"Gah, today sucked." Nev pulled Max out of his moping as he flopped down on the bed closest to the door, opposite Max sitting cross legged on his own window-facing bed. "I'm glad we live in a world with mac 'n' cheese. I feel like mac 'n' cheese makes shitty days tolerable." There was that wide ass, beautiful fucking smile that usually flooded Max with warmth and reminded him how lucky he was to get to be around such a shining light of a human being. Max wished desperately he could get out of his head and enjoy the gift, but instead he found himself responding, "Right, because pasta makes up for all the shit we've been put through today", delivered in a little more aggressive tone than he was meaning to.
Nev picked up on the agitation. "Woah, okay", his file faded to an inquisitive smirk. He wasn't upset, which surprised Max and made him feel a little embarrassed that he wasn't able to keep the harshness from his tone. "Tell us how you really feel, Maxie."
"Sorry," he mumbled, shoving a bite of his now basically cold fettuccini alfredo in his mouth. "I just don't see how this situation isn't pissing you off. Like, we were totally played, the victims on both sides, and MTV wants to get pissy at us? Makes me wanna just quit."
"You don't mean that," Nev replies without skipping a beat. "I know you; you'd miss me."
Max felt an agitation in his groin, and coughed a small choke on his last piece of chicken. What he wanted to say was "You have no fucking idea how much I'd miss you, Nev", but instead he just replied, "Well…." and hopped up, crossing the small hotel room to throw his trash away in the can by the tv stand.
"Are you denying it? Because I am a total delight." Nev rose himself, also throwing his waste away even though he had half the bowl of his dinner left. He snaked around Max, who was still standing right above the trash can, trying to gather himself. These nights in the hotel room before Nev went to bed were absolutely brutal. When the cameras were on, it was easier to not respond to Nev's adorable behavior. After all, he wasn't about to be humiliated by a rejection on film to live forever in the hearts and minds of America. But when they were alone, the crew often on another floor altogether, the two of them just doing normal life things—taking a shower, watching 90s sitcoms, calling their parents for updates on mundane things like pimples and the best coffee shops in whatever city they were in this week—it was all Max could do to not grab Nev by the shoulders, stare into his deep, handsome eyes, and confess every pent up feeling he'd been hiding for over 10 years now.
"Hmmmmm?" Nev's voice rose to a higher register at the end of the sound, emphasizing the request for a response. Nev was now a breath away from Max, squeezed into the foot and a half space between Max's feet and the small trash can. Nev looked down at his best friend, a whole head shorter than him (something he was always teasing Max about), and dared him to answer with a double jump of his wild, enticing eyebrows.
"No" Max turned with a deep sigh and headed towards the bathroom. "I think I'm gonna shower. Maybe the water will wash away my shitty attitude."
Nev reached out instinctively, grabbing Max by the small of his wrist, a gesture that seemed too intimate for friends, but completely normal for the two of them. Nev was just handsy. He was a precious little flower who loved to touch people, and Max had learned to get used to it and channel the energies it charged him with into his nighttime releases. Mostly.
"Hey. This is really getting to you isn't it?" Nev softened, tilted his head in the way he did when he was trying to empathize with someone. "You don't usually get this upset about things. Talk to me?"
Max wanted to talk to Nev. He wanted to tell him everything, why he was so pent up and about to explode. How if Nev didn't get his soft, long fingers off of the sensitive pulse point in Max's wrist that he might lose every last shred of reality in him and make a choice that would cost him the best friendship he'd ever had in his life. But how the hell could he do that?
"I….it just is what it is. Gotta swallow it, and move on." Max forced a smile, desperately trying to convey a laissez-faire attitude that was completely disingenuous.
Nev saw right through it, of course. "Talk to me. We're best friends, right? We are the only ones that get how we feel. If we can't talk to each other, we will combust!" Nev let go of Max's wrist at last, giving him a playful shove on the shoulder.
And Max regretted his next actions with every fiber of his being.
Before he could make any conscious decisions, Max broke. He caught Nev's hand as it retreated from his shoulder, jerking Nev's attention back to his best friend in surprise. Max set his jaw and stared up at Nev defiantly. "Stop. You can do that on camera, I get it, but not here. We aren't lovers. You don't have to touch me every five minutes."
Nev's eyes had never been able to hide his emotions. If he felt something, his face showed it before he even consciously understood what he was doing. And just now, they showed a rolodex of emotions: shock, confusion, sadness, rejection (why?)—then annoyance, defiance, a wall slowly erecting between them despite the connection of their physical bodies still very much intact.
"Max." Nev responded matter-of-factly. "You think I touch you for the cameras?"
"No. You touch me because you like to touch people. Which is fine. But you can't touch me when we're alone. It…..you can't do it." Max let go of Nev's wrist, breathing angrily, and headed towards the bathroom.
"You're wrong." Nev leaned back causally against the tv stand, arms folded across his chest and a "try me" type look on his face. The eyes, though, they were on fire. An odd type of look that made Max feel 2 feet tall and completely naked, exposed and vulnerable, as he slowly turned to look at Nev again.
"I know I'm going to regret this, but enlighten me." he goaded, matching Nev's posture, but leaning against the wall instead of the TV stand.
Nev rose to his feet and walked in his casual, endearing strait over to Max, putting a hand on the wall to the right of Max's ear. Max couldn't breathe. Fucking fuck, he has got to Goddamn quit.
"I touch you because I'm trying to get you to touch me back." Nev bit the inside of his lip, not enough to see teeth from the outside, but plenty to pull half his lower lip into his mouth, drawing Max's gaze in with it. "I thought I could communicate without words, but I'm not sure how much longer I can keep dropping hints Maxie. Do you really want me to stop?"
NOW Max couldn't breathe. His arms dropped from where they were folded across his chest, now limp and heavy at his sides. "Stop. Playing with me. Nev. It's not funny."
"It's not supposed to be funny." Nev responded dryly. Max thought he could hear something behind the response, something hoarse and needy at the back of Nev's throat. Oh fuck, the back of Nev's throat. Max's body *definitely* responded to that thought. It was time to take control of himself. Of the situation. His feelings mattered, and it wasn't fair for Nev to be making such an elaborate joke out of his real feelings. Max had a right to be upset about this!
"Yaniv Schulman, I swear to fuck. You're crossing a line here. You're straight, so I get that you don't understand what you're doing, but you're also my best friend and you should know this isn't something to joke about. I'm serious. Back off."
"You see," Nev replied, now placing his second hand on the other side of Max's face, effectively trapping him, and leaned further in. If Nev didn't have his head dropped, Max would be so, *so* close to that long, majestic neck and the warm, tight throat it protected. "You think you're just so fuckin' smart Max. Maxie's the smart one, Maxie's the one who sees through the bullshit, Maxie doesn't wear his heart on his sleeves."
Max swallowed hard, his Adam's apple straining to cooperate, threating to choke him. Could he really have been having this experience with his best friend for years? The last six months: all the hotel rooms, the sleepless nights, the exhausted days, the stolen glances, the real fucking tears. They were completely unnecessary? This actually kind of ticked Max off. How dare Nev let him stew for this long. How dare he be so fucking uncommunicative.
"You're serious" his eyes widened, and darkened. "Say it." Max's mouth hung open with the silence, jaw still tight, and posture straightening.
Nev brought his face completely into Max's personal space, eyes and noses and mouths and chins aligning like an incredibly lustful statue. "Maxie. I flirt with you because I want you to flirt back with me. I want you to stop jacking off while you think I'm asleep and just ask me to touch you instead. I want you to stop being in such a bad fucking mood all the time and just do what you fucking want."
Max was completely speechless. Nev hadn't said he was gay. He hadn't said he was bi, or questioning, or anything. He just said he wanted Max. And he called him by that obnoxious little nickname only he could get away with using. But where words failed him, actions came to bail them both out.
Max gave in. He grabbed Nev's wide yet slender shoulders aggressively, as he'd thought about doing just minutes before, and flipped them so Nev's back was against the wall and Max had the upper hand. He dropped one hand to loop inside Nev's belt line, the other hand cupping Nev's jaw tight enough to cause a little pain—after all, he was agitated in more ways than one. "Do you mean to fucking tell me that you've known how I felt this whole time, and weren't clear?" On the last word, Max yanked back on Nev's braided belt, releasing the pin.
"The way you felt?" Max could tell Nev was genuinely taken aback, which made Max feel unsteady, his resolve slightly shaken. "You have feelings for me too?"
"Nev." Max was exasperated. "You're gay and you didn't tell me?"
"You have feelings for me too!" This time, it was a realization, not a question. "Maxie, you have such a good gaydar! You were supposed to know. You were supposed to be my Silver Fox and you never chased your little bunny. I thought maybe my tail wasn't fluffy enough."
Max cannot help but chuckle at this now way-too-far analogy, and the beautiful brain that conjured it up. "You didn't tell me you were gay because you had a porno fantasy that I was supposed to just know what you wanted and take what was mine?"
Nev visibly melted as Max put into words everything Nev had been feeling since high school. "You never took the bait. I just…."
"Oh I took the bait." Max responded huskily. He pinned his body against Nev's, his lips meeting the soft dip at the base of Nev's neck, kissing it with hunger and deep adoration. "Someone needs to teach you how to communicate."