Heaven.

In heaven, that's exactly how Max feels when she's in Victoria's presence.

The trip is everything Max expected it to be, if not better. On the first day they arrive quite tired from the flight, which has taken almost two and a half hours, and it is much colder than they expected. October is almost over, but neither of them expects the freezing breeze that greets them as soon as they get off the plane. It's already late, so they decide that they will go straight to the hotel to unpack, rest and take a hot shower, and that they will start their journey the next day.

On the second day, Victoria is excited, and so is Max. The Italian takes her on a tour of the most beautiful places in the Danish capital. Max can't understand anything on the signs, or even what people say in the streets, so it's Victoria who steps in and helps her translate the signs and helps her find her way around the shops. Later that morning they visit a canal full of people, with colourful houses, multiple restaurants and several boats carrying people. Max is a little afraid that they might be recognised and photographed, but realises it will be a difficult task with the cloudy weather, the beanies on their heads and the scarves practically covering their faces.

Still, Max is cautious. She knows that coming to Copenhagen is not the best decision she could have made, let alone coming with only Victoria and staying —supposedly— so far away from Connor, because the press can twist these facts with a few words, and she knows that Simon wouldn't like it very much. She tries not to make eye contact with people, especially the younger ones, because she doesn't exactly go unnoticed: her dark hair and inability to speak Danish give her away. Victoria, however, looks like one of them, so she breathes a sigh of relief when no one stops them in the street.

After lunch, they move quietly to a garden whose name Max doesn't find it hard to pronounce, but she doesn't dare to do so more than once. It has a spectacular view, so she can't help taking several photos of Victoria while she is too absorbed, probably immersed in her thoughts of when she went there as a child. The Italian turns once, smiling when she catches the brunette capturing the moment, and thinks about how much she'd like to kiss her in that instant, and the smile fades a little when she finds she can't do it.

Max thinks she's sneaky, but Victoria is able to read her like an open book. Occasionally the blonde lets their hands brush, perhaps to tease the Englishwoman, perhaps because she genuinely craves any kind of contact with her, and, far from taking her hand, Max tucks it into her pocket and gives her a mildly reproachful look. Victoria sticks her tongue out a little, the only way she has to mask how much it pains her not to be able to show the world that she really is the lucky one to be with Theresa Maxwell.

Several times she has considered telling her. Not aggressively, but rather slowly, trying to get her to understand how she feels and why she feels the way she does. She tries on the morning of the third day, when they are having breakfast in a neighbourhood farther away from the crowds, and where most of the inhabitants are old people. Victoria knows almost for certain that no one will recognise them there, and that it would do no harm for their lips to brush, however briefly. This time, however, Max grants her wish and kisses her as they stroll down a charming alleyway, catching the blonde by surprise, who gasps but smiles, and Max takes another picture.

"I'm going to make a scrapbook of all these pictures to look at when I miss you," Max murmurs, tapping her on the head, and it's enough to make Victoria forget that it's not enough.

So she tries again on the night of the third day. Their trip is coming to an end, they have visited a lot of things —Victoria has even taken her to her old school— they have eaten typical Danish dishes, the Italian has taught her a few words in that language, they have been very cold but they have also loved each other very much. The blonde is aware that in a couple of days all this fantasy will be over, and she thinks it's fairer for Max to live in reality and not wake up in a lie when it's all over.

But Max tempts her too much. Her hands gently slip around her waist, her lips close to her jaw and she pulls her to her by her trousers, and Victoria loses control. She lets herself be carried away by the game Max is playing, and she kisses her passionately until the blonde's back hits the wall, letting out a moan of coldness at the contact. Max gasps when it's Victoria who takes control this time, biting her lip and slipping her hands under the Englishwoman's jumper, coming into contact with the heat she gives off —and wants to keep giving off.

So she doesn't say anything, at least not that night, but decides to leave it until her mouth, hands and head are in the right place for it.

Victoria wakes up the next morning to a dark landscape, overcast skies and heavy rain. It's cold in the room, so she covers herself even more with the sheet, and finds the explanation for the wind because Max is on the terrace, smoke coming from between her lips, and Victoria knows it's not because of the cold but because of the cigarette between her fingers. She's wearing a wide black sweatshirt, and the Italian knows from the design of it that it's hers. The Englishwoman seems to hear the sheets moving, so she turns around and smiles instantly when she sees the blonde watching her silently.

"I hope I didn't wake you, did you sleep well?" Max bends down on the bed to give her a kiss on the cheek. "It's raining pretty hard, so I took the trouble to bring your breakfast up," with a nod of her head, the brunette points towards the desk, where a tray of pastries and orange juice rests.

"God, fantastic," Victoria plops back down on her pillow with a dreamy look on her face. Max chases after her with a smile, leaning on her side to watch her. The blonde looks up at her, eyes a little sad, and Max understands why. "I never want to leave here."

The Englishwoman doesn't go over to kiss her because she knows Victoria doesn't like the taste of tobacco in her mouth too much, only when they both smell like it, but she's dying to, so she just looks at her and bites the inside of her cheek. She wishes she could kiss her anywhere, hold her hand, run quietly through the streets without fear that no one might judge them. Because Max wants to be seen with Victoria, she wants people to understand that the Italian is the reason she's so happy lately, that she's the reason she has so much inspiration, because she's found her muse and she doesn't want to let her go. And she hates having to hide her, because Victoria de Angelis is a person anyone would want to show off, and she, the person who has her, is incapable of doing just that.

"We'll be back," Max murmurs as a promise. "If you ever want to run away, come back here. I'll know where to find you."

"How will you do it?" Victoria wants to know, a curious look in her blue eyes.

"You and I already met months ago, that warm day at the hotel in London. We'll meet again as often as we like, Vic."

This time it is Victoria who moves closer to her, despite the smell of tobacco on the other's lips. She touches her mouth to hers, sealing the promise that, perhaps sooner rather than later, they will have to break.

They spend the rest of the morning, which is pouring with rain, catching up on what is happening in their home countries. Victoria looks with a smile at the sun in Rome that the boys show her when they video call. "That room smells like sex and I'm not even in it," Damiano makes the comment with a grimace on his face, and Victoria reddens.

"Not even in the same country," Thomas points out, laughing along with Ethan, who's on the couch next to him.

"I don't even know why I'm calling you guys," Victoria snorts, hanging up the call instantly, leaving the three guys with their mouths hanging open, but they quickly burst out laughing.

For her part, Max goes out into the hallway to talk to her mother on the phone. She briefly tells her that she's in Denmark, and thankfully Helen doesn't ask who she's with —because she assumes any of her friends, and that makes her feel safe— nor does she ask about Connor, which Max is extremely grateful for. She knows it's a subject she won't be able to avoid forever, and that at some point she'll have to reveal the truth to her, but for now she prefers to live in the present that Victoria provides, so she keeps the conversation short, giving her regards for Robert and his daughters, wishing her a good week, and gets into the room quickly.

"It looks like the rain has stopped a bit. We can go see your family now, shall we?"

Victoria nods quickly, giving her a kiss on the cheek and disappearing behind the bathroom door to take a shower. They leave shortly after, planning to grab a bite to eat on the way and catch the bus that will drop them off at the address Victoria points out —Max is unable to pronounce the name of that street—, the Englishwoman letting herself be guided completely because she feels she doesn't even understand the Danish alphabet.

The bus ride is somewhat awkward for Max, because a young girl gets on one stop after them and stares at her as if she knows her from somewhere. Max slyly pulls down her beanie to keep her face out of sight, and turns away with the excuse that the air is in her face and freezes the tip of her nose. Victoria doesn't say anything, just gives her a little touch on the nose with a grimace to warm her up, totally oblivious to Max's circumstances, who is still afraid that this girl will recognise them. She knows she's acting totally irrationally, because maybe she doesn't even know who they are, maybe there's something in her hair and she hasn't even noticed.

But she doesn't think she's ready to find out so soon. She doesn't want to tell now, because she knows the stakes are high, and she's happy with Victoria, but the music also makes her incredibly happy, and she feels torn between the two. She wishes she could be quietly with Victoria, but putting the music aside makes it completely impossible for her to think about. So she watches her, enjoying it for a while longer, wondering how long it will be before Vic gets tired.

The ride takes about half an hour, and Max is able to breathe a sigh of relief when they get off the bus, almost missing the cold crashing against her cheeks just to be away from the tense atmosphere. Victoria gives her arm a squeeze, snapping her out of her reverie, and signals for them to go straight ahead. "It's been years since I've been here, but the last few times they gave us unbelievable amounts of food. We shouldn't have bought anything," Victoria laughs, excited, until she notices Max's gaze.

"We? Do you want me to come in with you?"

Victoria nods a little, aware that maybe she's overdoing it. "If you want to, sure. They know I like women, and they've never had a problem with it. They won't say anything to anyone, and I doubt they know everything that's really going on with you and Connor."

Max shrinks a little. She doesn't want to disappoint or sadden Victoria, but she feels like this is moving too fast. Even her mother doesn't know that she's not with Connor, that it's all a lie and that she's really dating Victoria, so the fact that her Danish grandparents know they're together seems a bit rushed to her. She seems to take her time in responding, so Victoria takes the hint.

"It's okay. You can wait—"

Max quickly shakes her head, a smile lighting up her face. "No, no. I'll come in with you, sure. It's your family, Vic."

The Italian swallows but smiles, something tells her that Max isn't too convinced by her words, but she doesn't want to waste any more time, so she decides to walk without saying anything about the subject, more and more certain that it will soon blow up in their faces. And maybe it's her own fault, for taking things too seriously, or for wanting to move too fast, but that's how she feels about things, and she'd feel like she's lying to herself if she did it any other way.

Max opens her mouth when she sees the house. It's a powerful green colour, with wide windows and a large flag on one of them, and from the colours, the Englishwoman thinks it's Danish. There are clothes hanging on the strings that travel from window to window, and she is surprised at how different it is from the English houses. Victoria seems to notice the Englishwoman's astonishment, so she gently nudges her in the ribs and laughs, "You're going to get flies."

The brunette quickly shuts her mouth and waits silently for Victoria to enter before she does so herself. Instantly they are welcomed by two older people, presumably the Italian's grandparents, who hug her tightly and eagerly, and Max watches the scene tenderly. She hasn't known what it's like to be reunited with some family for a long time, as only her mother remains, so she watches from a distance, afraid to interrupt. They speak in a language she doesn't know, which makes her silence easier. That is, until the Italian woman turns around.

Max doesn't know what they say, only gets to hear her name —her real name— and then her nickname. The man smiles and holds out his arm, so Max quickly accepts it. Then Victoria's grandmother pulls her into her short arms and leaves a kiss on her cheek, which surprises her and makes her feel a little out of place because she doesn't understand what's happening, but she smiles anyway.

"They don't understand any English, not even Italian, so I'll translate for you later, okay?" Victoria assures her, giving her a kiss, and Max has to stop herself from turning away because people are staring at them.

The journey back is even more awkward than the journey there. No one seems to recognise them anymore; in fact, no one seems to notice them: it's about six o'clock in the evening, it's dark and people want to go home because it's cold. Max warms her hands, blowing and rubbing them together, oblivious to Victoria's gaze. She is happy to have visited her family with Max, but she feels that things are not right with the girl. Maybe she was too quick to introduce her to people she probably won't see for years.

While Victoria hates herself for putting Max in such a compromising situation, the Englishwoman berates herself for not being able to at least rejoice in Victoria's happiness. But the pressure is so great. So great that she can feel it in the form of Simon, of Connor, of the public who now adore her but who could destroy her career if they find out she's dating Victoria. She doesn't regret meeting her, but she does admit that she has once thought how much easier it would be if she really loved Connor like she loves Victoria.

"Come on, say it," the Italian says once they arrive at the hotel. Max simply looks at her, taking off her jacket and hanging it on the hanger, as if asking her what's wrong. "You've been quiet all the way back. And some of the way there."

"It's nothing."

"I know you too well to know this is not 'nothing'," Victoria folds her arms, positioning herself in front of Max, who is sitting on the foot of the bed. "You can tell me whatever you feel. We're for this."

Max swallows, unable to avoid the thought running through her head any longer. Is she her friend or her girlfriend? Because Victoria seems hell-bent on letting everyone know they're dating, not caring about the secrecy their relationship actually entails. Max, on the other hand, is too reluctant to come out just yet, aware that there are loose ends to take care of before she tells her mother that she's bisexual and dating Victoria.

"What have you told your grandparents?"

"Well, your name, that I've come on a trip to Copenhagen for a few days with my girlfriend and not to tell anyone else. They told me that I looked very happy, and that I'm sure it was because of that pretty girl who's with me."

"Okay," Max replies simply.

But neither of them seems convinced by that answer. Max, because she knows she's lying by not saying anything else, and Victoria, because she knows Max hasn't finished talking. The Englishwoman stands up, shaking out her hair after taking off her beanie, and Victoria chases after her, her brow furrowed and her arms crossed. "Okay?"

"Yeah, okay. What else do you want me to say?"

Victoria is surprised by the hurtful tone, but says nothing about it. "They're not going to say anything to anyone, Max. They don't even know English, how can they say anything to the press? They're old people who live in a secluded part of the city centre. I assure you they've got better things to do than leak to the press that your relationship with Connor is a sham."

"Look, Vic. I wanted to come here with you to get away from it all. I thought this would be a place where no one would recognize us, where no one would judge us or know our history, but I'm going crazy feeling people's stares on me, thinking that any minute now I'm going to get a call telling me what the fuck I'm doing, that it's all over."

"Max, you're putting too much spin on it. Nobody knows who we are. Otherwise you would have seen pictures on Twitter, or news on Buzzfeed, or theories who knows where. There were no paparazzi, no fans that have come anywhere close. You're too uptight."

"No, no," Max shakes her head. "There was a girl on the bus who was watching us, I'm sure. I don't know why she didn't say anything, but I'm convinced she knew who we were."

"But we're not doing anything wrong. And even if she knew who we were, so what? As far as they know, we're friends and we're in Copenhagen. We're visiting my family, you've come to accompany me," Victoria instantly slows down, frustrated. Max raises her head, sensing her hesitation. The Italian woman huffs. "Is it always going to be like this, arguing about it every time we get home, hiding our hands from each other, not kissing in public because of what people will say? Because I've already been in hiding too long to do it for who knows how much longer."

Max doesn't have an answer, so she doesn't give one. She's not scared of what people will say, because she doesn't really give a shit if they know she's attracted to women too. She's scared that everything she's worked for, everything she's ever dreamed of, will go up in smoke in front of her because of a set of bad decisions. She doesn't want Simon to cut off any kind of relationship with her, thereby taking away her career.

But she also loves Victoria, more than anything else in recent years. The only thing that makes her happy other than sitting in front of a studio and singing, or going on stage and getting people to emote, dance and laugh with her. And no, she doesn't want to let her go, but she knows the Italian doesn't deserve that either. She deserves someone who shows her off, who is able to kiss her in public and who is not afraid of anything just because she is by her side.

So, Victoria or the music?

"I love you," Max murmurs, her eyes watering with tears as she watches Victoria suffer like this. Her back is pressed against the wall, her blue eyes unable to return the brunette's gaze.

"But?"

Max denies. "There is no but. I want to be with you, and I want to stay a singer. I'm not going to choose. I just feel like we're rushing it sometimes. I love you, I really do, but I feel like we're rushing. How long have we been dating, a month? And your sister already knows, your grandparents, your father; I guess he will find out soon enough. And I can't even tell my mother because she thinks I'm already with someone. I know you act that way because you feel that way, but I can't keep up with you, and that sometimes makes me feel behind in the relationship."

"I didn't know you felt that way," Victoria acknowledges quietly. "And I appreciate that all the time you're trying to make me happy and make me forget everything we have going on around us, I really do. But I... I don't know, Max. Being here has made me realise that I don't want to hide this. To think that I can be me with you openly with my family, with my friends... It's given me a picture of everything that can happen, and I want it too much to hide it. I'm sorry if I'm being too frustrating, or if I'm going too fast, but it's how I feel. Now that I know what it's like to be with you, I want everyone to know."

"Yes, I want it too, Victoria!" shouts Max, surprising herself. "But don't you understand that I'm fulfilling a contract? That I'm between a rock and a hard place? Yes, I was the idiot myself who signed it years ago, and now I'm the idiot who has to put up with it until they say enough is enough. I'm tired of people seeing something in me that I'm not, because I'm not the one in the pictures with Connor, and I'm not the one who's been posting pictures lately pretending everything's fine. I am who I am with you when we wake up together, or when I sat next to you to sing 505, or when we kiss until we can't anymore and then laugh," the brunette sobs quietly as Victoria looks at her with her lip quivering. "I want you. I just need to know how to handle both at the same time."

She doesn't show it, but Max is afraid. The look in Victoria's eyes seems to be issuing an ultimatum, and she fears the Italian will disappear behind the door if she chooses something that isn't right for her. For the first time she has two very important things in her life: love and her career, and she couldn't be happier if the two could be combined. But it's clear from the blonde's tears that Max can only have one thing, and although she doesn't show it either, Victoria is afraid she will be the rejected option.

"I'm never going to ask you to give up anything for me, because you wouldn't ask me either, and that wouldn't be fair. But these lifestyles aren't compatible with each other, and maybe we're not looking for the same thing right now, Max," Victoria says.

Max's blood runs cold in her veins, feeling her fear become reality. Victoria, once again, doesn't return her gaze, wiping away tears with the back of her hand. The brunette shakes her head. "Vic, no. I assure you we want the same thing. And I don't want you to hide either, you don't deserve this. I know this is complicated, but we can get through this together. Vic."

The blonde raises her head, her blue eyes sad, and Max's heart breaks. She wipes away her tears with her thumbs and presses a kiss to her forehead before pulling her close to her, struggling not to break down when she hears her sobbing against her chest. "I've spent too long living a lie to do it again."

Max is sure it's an outburst brought on by the impulsiveness Victoria's love makes her feel. She knows there's a chance she'll regret it, as much chance as there is that she can finally live her life with Victoria. So she turns away from the girl, sniffs and pulls out her phone.

"What are you doing?" Victoria stops crying and walks over to her, fearful of what the girl might do, prompted by her words. "Max, what are you doing?"

"Something I should have done a long time ago," she merely replies, and Victoria's phone vibrates.

She feels fear for a few seconds, uncertainty coursing through her body as she receives the Instagram notification. It's the 505 cover video, finally posted by Max, and a single sentence below the video:

when you look at me like that, my darlin', what did you expect?

But Max still won't let go of her phone. Victoria is staring at her wide-eyed, wondering what her next move will be, when she hears the line on the other end.

"Simon? Yeah, it's me. It's all right. Sorry to call you at this hour, I might catch you at dinner. But I'd like to tell you something. Can you make an appointment for next Friday? Yeah, Friday the 5th. I'll take Connor with me, so tell Martha, okay? Okay. Yes, thank you," and with that, Max hangs up. Victoria stares at her open-mouthed, unable to believe what the girl is about to do. The brunette looks at her with intensity. "It's over. I'm going to tell him. I love you."

Max doesn't know at what moment it happens, but it does. Victoria kisses her hard, almost angrily, instantly removing the cardigan she was wearing under her jacket. Max struggles to return the kiss, but Victoria's intensity is overwhelming. Her eyes are still glazed over and her cheeks pink with tears, but the aggression with which she attacks her body is unmistakable. It is only when Max lays her down on the bed that she begins to take control a little more, with Victoria's small body beneath her, subjecting her to a new rhythm, somewhat calmer but equally more accelerated than usual.

The Englishwoman decides not to think about anything else that night, because if she thinks, she'll probably stop kissing Victoria. And that's all she wants to do, so she does it, not suspecting for a moment that it might be their last night together.