Leave Me Your Stardust
By: Jondy Macmillan
A/N: I don't know where this came from. This is my first Wizards fic. I support Jalex hardcore, and a page into this I was still considering turning this into Jalex from Max's eyes. But I wanted to read a Max/one of his siblings, aka someone other than Harper or an oc, and couldn't find one. So…tada. I wasn't sure whether this would be Max/Justin or Max/Alex, but my fingers decided on Max/Alex. I think maybe one day I'll do a Max/Justin oneshot, just because I can't fiiiind any.
Disclaimer: Don't own a thing.
Being the youngest was tricky. He couldn't be the cleverest, because that spot was reserved for his sister. He couldn't be the smartest, because his brother was the one who spent all his time studying the way numbers and words gave a person power. Alex was strong and Justin was fast and they both alternated between caustic and witty. When it all came down to it, as it so often did, all that Max was left with was being…well, young.
It didn't matter so much when he was little, and he looked up to his older siblings the way ancient civilizations looked up to mythological gods. Alex was glossy hair and shiny lips and quick with lies on her silver tongue. Justin was outer space stories and broad shoulders and an inner strength when it looked like everything might fall apart. Max didn't mind back then, pretending.
It started the first time he aced a test and saw the way it stole attention from his big brother, who'd just gotten first place in the science fair. Max's stupid vocabulary test was more important to their parents, and sure, Justin would never begrudge him that victory, but Max saw the way they overlooked Justin's achievement. Even if it was one in a string of many, it was still something Justin had earned. So he decided, right then and there that he wouldn't be smart, at least not on the surface. He wouldn't take away the one thing Justin had.
There were other things, after all.
Then, another time, Max got in trouble in school for saying something he shouldn't have. His parents made a fuss, and they rushed to save him from the teeth and claws of detention, forgetting to rescue Alex up from her own misdemeanors. At that point, they were still both too young to take the subway by themselves. By the time Alex got picked up, parents reminded of the insolent child they'd forgotten in detention half the city away, night was falling.
Alex didn't blame him, she was too caught up even then in the moment; the past never mattered. Hell, when she found out Max had served some time she slapped him a high five and called him a 'little man'. Still, his cheeks burned with shame because once again, he'd taken from his siblings, from his sister who might as well have been a goddess.
He learned each time. How to be, how to act, how to dissolve into the background so that everyone would see how brilliant, how radiant his big brother and sister were. It wasn't so bad, being average.
When he realized, when he was old enough to realize that he'd backed himself into a corner, that he was never going to be anything but Justin and Alex's little brother, never Max Russo, it was too late.
He would be dumb and goofy, comic relief for a family that had too much drama and too little hope. He would never be anything else, but it was okay. It was something he'd done himself. He didn't need his parents to know that he recognized the shadows lingering in the corners of their eyes, somewhere amidst laugh lines and smooth skin. He didn't need them to know that he comprehended the significance of the sadness they shared every time something went wrong. He played the part of blissfully ignorant, so that they wouldn't have to worry, so that they would keep Alex and Justin in their sights, shining stars of the Russo family.
He was verging on eighteen and about to graduate high school. His family was coming, of course. Justin had flown in from a place so far from New York City that Max had trouble imagining it, or why Justin would do something as lame as flying. The test to see who would keep the family's magical powers hadn't come to pass quite yet, and sometimes Max wondered if it ever would. There were always reasons to put it off; mishaps in the wizarding world that required the firm touch of a Russo and plights and perils back home that came with raising three not-quite-adults.
Alex had run away to college, but failed in that like she did with most things academic. She was wild, raw energy, and something like that didn't need the rules and restrictions of book learning and dreary professors. So she'd come home, about a year ago, spending most of her time lounging on the couch and antagonizing her little brother during the course of his senior year, all under the pretense of starting up her own fashion line.
Fast forward to graduation day, and Max was close to breaking.
He loved Alex, the way you were supposed to love sisters and brothers and babies and puppies. She was warmth, the glow and the touch of family.
At the same time, in her time home he'd learned that he loved Alex, the way he'd been taught only to love girls with shiny hair and plasticized lips and milky thighs; popular girls in school and fake girls on the covers of magazines he hid beneath his mattress so his mom wouldn't find them during spring cleaning. And oh, occasionally real girls, but they were always supposed to look nothing like his sister, his sister who was blood, vibrant and inside him, completely unshakable.
Maybe it wasn't so much love as desire, but to an eighteen year old boy, they often feel quite the same.
Max knew that Alex wasn't actually a very good sibling. She was a catastrophe of a person, a catastrophe of a sister. She was color and sound and a blinding flash of a smile before she sweetly picked his pocket for ten bucks and some gum. Sometimes, if she was feeling particularly benevolent, she would pull Max in for a hug, half noogie, aligning her body with his in just the right way.
The heat rising off of her, the curve of her breasts and her hips and her lips; it was always too much.
On graduation day, his whole family had gathered near to see him get his diploma. It was something they kept joking was a miracle behind his back, when they thought he wouldn't hear. It should have been one of the best days of his life, but all he could think about was the night before.
The night everything had changed.
Summertime in New York City was a sweaty, smelly affair. Between the crush of bodies that wandered the streets from all fifty states, from every country, even the ones Max had never heard of and the black garbage bags that lined every sidewalk, the odor could be unbearable. Especially over subway grates. Luckily, he didn't have a shift that night in the sandwich shop and had resigned himself to stretching out on one of the lawn chairs on their balcony, finding comfort in counting the stars overhead. It wasn't a daunting task. He'd only reached six by the time Alex came outside.
The only con to living in the city was never being able to see the stars. The lights of the skyline outshone them all, which might have been the point. He imagined whoever had built this city wanted it to blaze.
"What're you doing?" Alex asked in this singsong voice that meant she wanted something. Her tone didn't shock him. She rarely ventured out of her way to talk to him unless she wanted something.
"Counting stars," Max replied, not bothering to look at her. It would just be asking for trouble.
"Oh, okay. One, two, three, four, five, six, seveneightnineten, done!" Alex chirped, settling herself down on the chair, on his knee, "That was fun."
"Can I help you?" he asked irritably, scooting over, trying not to touch her. Even through his jeans, through the flimsy material of her skirt, he could feel the heat of her skin.
"I'm glad you asked. You can," she grinned, and he automatically knew that nothing good was going to come of this, "Justin's coming home from that Yankees game with dad in like, an hour, and I was thinking we could-"
"No."
"Max."
"No."
"Max, c'mon, you don't even know what I-"
"You want me to help you play a prank on Justin."
"That's not what I- okay, yeah, maybe it was, but it's a really great prank," she snorted and leaned back across his legs, dangling her head on the other side of the lawn chair.
"Get off, you're heavy," Max muttered, even though his sister had bird bones and not an ounce of fat on her body, which was kind of a miracle in its own right considering how much she ate.
"Man up," Alex retorted, not bothering to move.
"I'm not going to help you. You know that, right?"
She whined, "Why not?"
He chose not to answer, changing directions, "Aren't you a little old for this anyway?"
"Max," Alex turned so that he could kind of see her face down to his right, cloaked in shadows, "We will never be too old to pull one over on Justin."
"You two are ridiculous."
She didn't answer, sighing contentedly. Her body was warm, her back melded against his knees and thighs until she pronounced she was dizzy and sat up right again, "I can't believe you're actually graduating high school."
"Me either," he replied without enthusiasm, trying to relay the fact that all he wanted was to be left alone.
"Scoot over," she commanded, huddling up against him, and it was a million times worse than having her lying on his legs. He obeyed, but only because not doing so would result in a kidney shot to his ribs.
Max could feel her breath on his neck, her chest pressed up against his. After his second growth spurt, he had at least six inches on his sister, but she shimmied up on the lounge until they were nearly face to face.
"You're kind of invading my space here."
"Deal with it," Alex grinned, and it was like the entire universe lie behind her eyes, galaxies and planets and more stars than a person could ever see in the New York sky. Max didn't know what to want and what not to want. He couldn't resist Alex; she was a tempest that wouldn't stop until she devoured him, enfolded him in her storm of love and charm and wanton smiles only to spit him back out on the sidewalk in front of Waverly Place, dejected and broken. That was how his sister worked, that was her mechanism for entrapping a boy for the rest of his life, and Max had seen it succeed time and time again.
Even if he wasn't just any boy. He would never deny Alex anything, and he never had, not really.
"What's with the serious face, Max?"
"Uh," he was finding words were becoming increasingly difficult with Alex in such close proximity. She smelled like her perfume, citrus and sweet, "Um. No reason."
"Hey," she shifted even closer, so that they were breathing the same air, "Did you break up with what's-her-name yet?"
'What's-her-name' was his on-again-off-again girlfriend through most of senior year. She'd been nice. She'd been cute.
She just hadn't been Alex Russo.
"Not yet," he admitted, although he'd been planning to forever. It wasn't like he was actually interested in her anymore, or anything to do with this city, really. Justin had the right idea when he'd gone to college so far away.
"No time like the present," Alex tried to grab for his phone, fingers maneuvering into his pocket, but he deftly took hold of her wrist, stopping the motion. She frowned, and he knew how much it annoyed her that her little brother was bigger and stronger now.
"I'll get around to it," Max warned her, letting go as soon as he was positive she wouldn't try anything again.
"Make sure you do," Alex couldn't stay serious for long, and her lips quirked, "You're being so boring. Shouldn't you be out, celebrating freedom or something?"
"The parties start tomorrow night. No, you can't come."
"Puh-lease, like I'd want to come to some stupid high school graduation kegger."
He was about the reply, but they heard keys jingle in the lock, and she perked up, "Dude, Dad and Justin must be home."
He watched as she jumped to her feet, graceful, elated. For a moment, he felt jealousy spike through him. Justin was Alex's favorite, and Max had always known it. Not that it mattered who was the favorite brother; Max wasn't looking for familial love.
And maybe Alex knew that. Maybe she'd known all along.
It was always hard to tell with her.
Because just as the doorknob twisted to let his dad and Justin inside the apartment, Alex spun to face him, the look on her face calculating. Before he could even ask 'what', she dove to her knees, head lurching forward. All he could see was her eyes, her glossy hair like the midnight sky.
Then her lips brushed his, and it was like magic and electricity and over way too soon.
"There," she declared, clambering to her feet, one hand on her hip, "Now you look normal again. All fixed."
He didn't even care that she was referring to the dorky smile spreading across his face. He didn't care about anything except the way his mouth burned, and the mischievous twitch of her mouth.
Which was why today, the day of his graduation, with his family cloistered around him awaiting the start of the ceremony that meant his childhood had come to an end, wasn't great. It was terrible. It was horrible.
It was a lie.
"Max, please tell me you're going to smile during the ceremony," his mother pleaded with him, fussing with his gown. It was on a hanger perched on a doorframe, and she must have ironed it six different times within the past hour. She was nervous.
He was guilty.
"Yeah, Max. Lighten up," Alex snickered from the breakfast table, where she was engaged in snatching some of Justin's food every time he wasn't looking.
Max met her eyes, and for a second, her grin faltered. It was all he needed. He jumped off the couch, pushing past his mother, wrenching open the door.
"Where are you going? Max!" his mom exclaimed, but it was distant. He was already halfway down the stairs and out the sandwich shop. Then he hit asphalt, and he began to run.
He ran down the streets until they mixed together, until he got lost in the grid of New York. He flew past people in black suits and skeletal business women and smoking delivery men like he had wings. The colors and the sounds of the city blended until they had a shape, until they were a blur beneath his feet as they pounded over the pavement. He danced in and out of taxis and motorcycles and four door sedans, eighteen wheelers and bike messengers and ladies with baby carriages. He passed the hallowed halls of NYU Law School, the gray stone and purple banners, and then onto Macdougal with falafel stands and creperies and bars that were chock full of college kids and sad old movie stars with stories to tell, even at two in the afternoon. The scent of hookah and fresh cut flowers haunted him til he turned again, dodging a yellow speeding bullet and hopping up onto the divider before catching his breath.
He didn't blame Alex, not for what she'd done. It was one more impulsive, stupid thing to add to her ever-growing list. Maybe she'd meant it, and maybe she hadn't. It didn't matter.
What mattered was this; could Max really live his whole life deferring to his siblings, mapping his life around his sister's whims?
He wanted the answer to be yes. He was scared of leaving, of venturing out into the world where there was magic and stars, but no Alex. No whirlwind of a sister that he loved more than life. His whole future lay before him, miles and miles and miles to go, but he didn't know how to take the first step. He didn't know how to introduce Max Russo to the world.
"Max," a voice said behind him, and he felt fingers tentatively flutter across his shoulder. Alex.
"How'd you find me so fast? Don't tell me you ran," he sounded gruff, older.
She sat on the divider beside him and wiggled her wand in front of his face.
"Oh."
"I didn't mean- last night- I'm sorry," her voice got louder, like it did when she was annoyed, "I don't even know what I'm apologizing for. I thought it made you happy."
When he didn't answer, she accused, "You smiled."
Alex glared at him, lost, confused; two of her least favorite feelings. And it gave Max a sort of vicious satisfaction, because wasn't that how she made him feel?
"I'm going to college in the fall," he admitted, "UCLA."
"UCLA? But that's in-" Alex bit her lip. California was far, even farther than Justin's grad school; that's why Max had been so damned conflicted.
But now, staring at his sister in the middle of rush hour New York City traffic, he realized he could do it. He could go away, and maybe this thing with Alex would resolve itself with the distance, or maybe it would make him miserable.
"I have to try," he mumbled.
And because Alex could never stay serious for long, she smiled, although it looked worn at the edges and she said, "I know."
The world up until now had always belonged to his sister, and his brother too. Max had never wanted to outshine them. But now, he was walking the edge of his own path, and he thought maybe it would turn out okay. Maybe he could conquer the world and bring it back home, to Alex. Because she was his sister, and she'd always be there.
"Hey," he grabbed her wrists and pulled her close. There, in her eyes, was the entire universe, "Don't look so serious."
Max pressed his mouth against hers. Because even world conquerors needed good luck, for the road.
A/N: Uhhhh. I don't know. Did that make sense? Maybe? There is a reason I don't normally write one shots; I usually need like, eighteen chapters to make a point. However, I didn't have the time to do something long here, so…I hope anyone who reads it enjoys it? Also, the title is from Boats and Birds by Gregory and the Hawk.