DISCLAIMER: I do not own MR.
Writing is hard.
I close my laptop with one hand and raise the other, inspecting the promise ring. The promise ring that Fang gave me, swearing that he'd be by my side through thick and thin. Well, there goes that promise.
Just as I get into bed and pull the covers to my chin, my mom opens the door, carrying a tray of food with her. "Time for dinner." She says softly, setting the tray down on my desk before sitting beside me.
"I'm not hungry." I mumble, turning away from her and the obvious thoughts of hunger I've been having. I need to write. But writing is hard. And that is not just because I have below average reading-writing proficiency.
My mom spies the light blinking on the laptop and sighs. She begins stroking my hair. "Are you still trying to write? You know you don't have to."
I can feel the sarcasm coming up, but stop myself. I don't have to. My thoughts shift back to Fang. Did he really have to write that letter? Did he really have to leave?
No matter how much of a douche Fang was for leaving, I'm pretty sure he had a hard time writing, too. The only difference is that he needed to write a letter, and I need to write a book.
I thought gossip in the Maximum Ride world spread fast (even if it involved things we didn't want to go public), but I was pretty shocked when a few days ago James, my co-author (who edits my stuff to make it readable) sent me an e-mail about "the sixth book of Maximum Ride" and how I "should bring more of the teenage romance you brought in the fifth book". He further reminded me of the scenes I had mistakenly written because I was too mushy-mushy (trust me, it happens a lot when you make out with who was then the best wingman ever), and said that I had to write more of those because everyone loved it.
Maybe I shouldn't have let the series spiral out like that. My original plan was a trilogy (they're so famous these days, third time is the charm), but the publishers said that since a lot of people were reading about me, I might as well write more. The rest of the flock convinced me to go on, too.
Mom gets up to leave and reminds me to eat dinner. But my eyes aren't exactly on the tray; they're still fixated on my laptop, the blinking light soothing me, barely reminding me that I have a deadline to beat.
I'm pretty sure the only reason I was reluctant to write was because I had to rehash everything: the lovey-dovey part leading to Dylan busting in leading to more lovey-dovey parts leading to Fang being in danger leading to more lovey-dovey parts leading to Fang eventually leaving. Would it please readers? For the first parts, probably. Maybe a few of them would go "awww" at Total and Akila's wedding. Maybe they'll tear up at Fang's letter, too? But was I, Maximum Ride, going to let the whole world know that I was broken?
When my mom and the rest of the flock heard about the e-mail, they told me that it was okay if I didn't write anything, and that if I did choose to write, I didn't have to go into all the messy details (like Angel asking me not to write about the part where she says something about Fang being the first to die. On a side note, that's probably because I'll be killing him for leaving). We didn't exactly owe any of the publishers anything. I could've told James "Nah I feel like the environmental PSA stuff is enough." And continued to wallow in my grief. But it had been Fang. He told me that he liked blogging because writing helped him keep some of the angst out. And as much as I didn't want to take his advice and hear him say "I told you so" in my head, he was right.
"Well are you planning to read it to me?" Iggy asks the next morning. I turn the screen away from him (seeing that he had a chance of reading it because it was black against white). As one of the oldest, he assumed Fang's old position of first mate, which apparently included helping me write the latest novel. I'm not going to lie, Fang did use to have that job, but usually he provided annoying side comments ("Max, why are you removing the valium scene? People need to know you love me thiiiiissss much!").
"Ig, I've barely written a chapter." I reply, not having the energy to write and dodge Iggy's also annoying side comments.
His face turns serious. "What are you going to write about, anyway? What parts?"
I start to shrug but then remember that he's blind. "Well, I guess people need to know we finally turned a year older. And the dog lovers' market will want to read about Total and Akila's wedding. I'm still trying to piece everything together."
"What about the rest? Dylan? What Angel said? Fang?" He hesitates at the last part, afraid that I might lapse back into my super-depressed state.
Iggy's question makes me think. What is the series about now, anyway? It used to be about us trying to beat The School, then it was random stuff like Angel getting too many powers, us trying to promote environmental stuff, and "Fax" as the fans liked to call it. I focus on the mental timeline for the book. Dylan arriving, competing with Fang. Angel saying Fang would be the first to die. Dr. Ice Cream- whatever his name is- trying to kill Fang. Fang leaving.
No wonder I had a hard time writing; I was supposed to write a book about Fang.
The same night, I send an e-mail to James. "Can you help me out here?" and add a short synopsis of everything that happened during the past couple of months.
James replies back dutifully, with an outline so organized it could make all the whitecoats cry. "How are you and Fang? There seems to be no mention of 'Fax' there."
I start to type up a reply, choosing whether to lie or tell him it's none of his business. But stop. There was Fax, James. But now Fang is gone and all that's left is me and I'm not much into caring about the past right now.
But that is when it really hits me, like a ton of bricks. Because Fax is gone.
This oneshot is sort of a reflection of a) how I feel about MR as a series, and b) my writer's block when I was trying to think of a new Fax story. Can't really say it's gone, though. Anyway, what do you think? :))