WARNING: implied/referenced rape/non-con, mild sexual content, unhealthy relationships, abuse, implied/referenced sexual assault, non-consensual kissing, and biphobia. READER DISCRETION ADVISED.
Max and Warren are sitting in the back of his car, his arm around her shoulder as Planet of the Apes plays through a large screen projector. It's their fourth official outing as a couple, and it's going well so far. Warren had insisted on paying for the movie. And the drinks. And the popcorn. But Max had no objections, because Warren is just being his sweet and cheesy self. As the credits roll, Warren's arm begins to travel from her shoulder down to her waist, and Max shudders. She takes his arm and places it back on her shoulder.
Warren glances at her with concern. "Is something wrong?" he asks.
Max clears her throat and squirms in her seat. She inches away from Warren, but he follows her movements, scooting closer as she tries to scoot away. Max's body tenses up when she notices his proximity to her, feeling confined with his body so close to hers.
"I just want to take things slow," Max says hesitantly. She flashes an awkward smile. Her whole body is lighting up with fire and sweat, face flushed with heat. She hates telling him that but she has to tell him that, and she wishes she didn't have to explain that whenever they hang out.
"Max," Warren pouts. He moves his hands down Max's shoulders to the top of her arms, gripping them gently but firmly. "You've been my girlfriend for weeks and we haven't even kissed yet. Don't you think it's time?" Warren leans into her. Max quivers slightly. Please stop please stop please stop she wants to scream but the words don't come out. They're trapped inside of her, just as she's trapped in the corner of this backseat.
"I don't know," Max says. She feels so small in this moment, so weak and timid and she wishes she could just tell him I don't want to but she doesn't want to upset him, she doesn't want to disappoint him and see him sulk for the rest of the night, as she has seen so often after a rejection.
So maybe that's why, when Warren rests the weight of his whole body onto her and forces his tongue into her mouth, mushy lips pressed hard against hers, Max lets him. She closes her eyes and lets him prolong the kiss, lets him run his hands up and down her body, lets him crush her legs as his body lies on hers. And then Warren runs his fingers through her hair, and it feels sorta nice to have his fingers in her hair like that. Max gets used to the way Warren touches her. It starts to feel pretty alright, Max thinks.
After being together for awhile, it's probably time they had their first kiss. Maybe it's okay to let him get away with this. Just this once.
Just tell him, Max thinks to herself. He's your boyfriend, you need to tell him. They're cuddling on the couch in his room while a mindless gore flick plays in front of them, but Max is only half paying attention. It's been eating at you for weeks. She's constantly shifting around in her seat, tension wrapping itself around her chest so tightly and it's so fucking tight I need to breathe.
Warren pulls her closer to him, securing her in an embrace. Max remains deathly still, yet her insides chip away at her core. Normally he would feel nice, but right now, this is suffocating. "Max, what's wrong?" Warren asks, voice gentle. Max holds her breath. Warren plants a kiss on her cheek, and it almost eases her worry. "You know can tell me anything."
Say it say it say it. She can't. But she has to. But she can't. Why can't she? Just say it. He's your boyfriend. You trust him, don't you? Does she? Max ponders this. She sucks in a quick breath and exhales, breath wavering. You can do this.
"Warren," Max begins slowly. She catches a glimpse of him. He looks at her intently. "I'm bi," Max blurts out, and then immediately feels her heart sink. But there's a tiny sense of relief. It has been said, done. There's no taking it back and now he knows and now she doesn't have to hide that part of herself anymore. Warren releases her from his grip, and now they're sitting adjacent to each other, staring face to face, eye to eye. He shoots her a funny look. Max's heart pounds through her chest as her entire body stiffens, pressure and fear surmounting from within.
"Well, you're straight when you're with me," Warren says. He says it so casually and disregards her so easily that Max heats up with both embarrassment and fury.
"What?" Max asks, her mouth ajar. She wants to yell at him but refrains from doing so. She knows if she gets riled up that she's going to start crying and she cannot let that happen right now. "You're wrong. That's not how it works."
"You're not gonna be thinking about other people when you're with me," Warren points out. His eyes narrow, and Max feels so exposed right now, so vulnerable. Fuck fuck fuck no please no why is this happening. "Right? So it doesn't matter whether you're really bi or not. You might as well just say you're straight."
Shit shit shit those tears want to come out and Max thinks they just might. She bites the inside of her cheek and she wants to get out of here, but Warren's looking at her, confused, and he probably thinks that this isn't all a big deal. Warren's hand reaches out to hers, but Max snatches her hand away from his and stands up brusquely. She shakes her head.
"I can't believe I'm hearing this," she chokes out. Tears fill her heavy, swollen eyes. They begin to fall against her cheeks, warm streams that leave a cool linger as they trickle down her face. Warren stands up and takes a step towards her, but Max takes a huge step away. "I open up to you and you fucking disregard my feelings," she says, more to herself than to Warren.
"Max… I didn't mean to," Warren says. He pleads with his eyes. "I just don't understand."
"I need to go."
"Max, wait—"
Max doesn't want to hear what he has to say, not after the shit he just pulled. She slams the door, ignoring his calls after her as she storms out of the building.
Chloe's arms are folded across her chest, her blue eyes set ablaze. Max is sitting on the edge of Chloe's bed, swinging her legs and clenching the blanket underneath her. Chloe stares at Max, fists tightened and mouth slightly ajar. She closes her eyes for a brief moment, frowns, and shakes her head.
"I'm gonna kick Warren's ass," Chloe concludes in a huff. "First the whole first kiss bullshit and now this? How dare he brush off your bisexuality like that! That's not something you tell people for fucking kicks. I know how much courage it must've took for you to tell him that. Max, I'm so proud of you." Chloe plops next to Max and grabs her hands, squeezing them firmly. Chloe's eyes reflect both rage and sorrow, and she exhales slowly.
"Look," Chloe says. "I see some red flags going off in my head. Lots of bullshit I'm sensing. I don't think Warren's good for you. My advice? Dump him."
Max scrunches her face and slips her hands from Chloe's grip. "Thanks, Chloe," she says. "I know you're trying to look out for me, and I really appreciate it. However, I've been thinking about this a lot. It's not Warren's fault. It's my fault. On both accounts. I know should've been more assertive about the whole kissing thing. But because I wasn't, I've become more comfortable showing affection to him. I needed him doing that to take that next step, you know?" Chloe's mouth is wide and she's shaking her head in disgust. "And I never really explained bisexuality to Warren. He really seemed concerned and I just left him hanging. I'm going to talk to him about it to help him understand what it really is. He's just ignorant."
Chloe grips Max by the shoulders and stares her down with hardened eyes. "Max, listen to me," Chloe says, the underlying rage in her voice unraveling. "Do you even hear yourself? You're just making excuses for him. He's full of shit!"
"Every relationship needs work, Chloe," Max points out. "I'm not going to break up with him just because there are a few bumps in the road. If I talk to him about it, he'll listen. We'll fix things and learn from the experience, and we'll grow together."
"He better fucking listen to you, Max," Chloe snarls. "Otherwise, you're never going to hear the end of this from me."
Max hesitates to knock on Warren's door. Maybe this is a mistake. Maybe he doesn't want to see me. What if he doesn't want to talk? What if he doesn't answer the door? Max swallows. No. She has to do this. If she doesn't confront him, it's just going to keep bottling up inside her, a shaken soda can constantly fizzing and eager to burst. She can't let resentment build up and she can't hide her feelings forever. Max knocks. Warren answers.
His eyes are red and his expression is solemn. He gives her a weak smile. "Max," Warren says, looking amazed. He sighs. "I'm really sorry about earlier. I was saying some pretty dumb things, wasn't I?"
Max nods. "Yeah, you were. Can I come in?"
"Of course."
Warren shuts the door as Max takes a seat on the couch. Warren stands in front her, facing her but not moving, his fingers twiddling as his arms hang. Max pats the couch, and Warren reluctantly sits beside her. Max gently clasps her hands over his, and she can feel his body loosen as he reciprocates. He gives her hands a tight squeeze and buries his head into her neck. Max feels his tears slide down her neck and onto her chest.
"I was totally out of line," Warren blabbers. "About your… bisexuality. It's kinda hard for me wrap my head around it… how you can be bi but in a relationship, but I'm starting to understand it a little."
Max sighs with relief. "That makes things a little bit easier for me," she admits. "But there's still something else I have to talk you about. It's been on my mind recently."
Warren nods. "Anything, Max. I'm all ears."
The palms of Max's hands begin to sweat, and she almost doesn't want to say it. It's embarrassing. It's in the past. Just let it go. Max bites her lip. She tries to shake the uneasiness in her chest, but it doesn't budge. She takes a deep breath. "Remember our first kiss?" Max asks slowly.
Warren grins. "How could I forget?" he says. "That kiss was magical."
Max cringes. "It wasn't for me," she says. The crushing expression on Warren's face strikes Max with guilt. Warren wilts, and Max can feel herself wilting too. "I wasn't ready. It was uncomfortable for me. I didn't speak out because I was too afraid."
A heavy silence falls on their shoulders. "Do you always feel that way when we kiss?" Warren asks, his voice breaking. Max wilts further into herself. It kills her to make him feel this way, to see him hurt and disappointed in himself. I'm sorry I made you feel this way I'm sorry I'm sorry please no stop shaking please. "I'm so stupid. I can't believe I did that to you. I'm the worst."
"No, you're not!" Max reassures him quickly, disheartened yet relieved at his reaction. "The fact that you're listening to me and feeling guilty about it shows how much you care about my feelings. I just had to make sure you understood how I felt." Max releases her hold on Warren's hands and wraps her arms around him. Her hands tug at the back of his shirt, and she rests her chin on his shoulder. "And for the record, I love kissing you. It was just the first time we did made me uncomfortable."
Warren leans back to get a good look at Max. He furrows his brow, pensive. "Well, maybe it was a good thing," he says. "I got you out of your comfort zone, and look where we are now. We kiss all the time! If I hadn't made a move, we might not have had our first kiss yet! Right?"
Max ponders. Yeah, maybe he is right. Maybe a good thing came out of that after all. "I guess so," Max finally says.
Warren cups her face in his hands, drawing her near him. He gently plants his lips onto hers. They tenderly kiss each other until they forfeit all control, losing themselves in each other and hungry for the taste of the other's tongue.
"Hey! Max."
The irritation drips off Chloe's tongue so pronouncedly. The two of them are ambling on a sidewalk, with no particular destination in mind. Chloe stops in her tracks, causing Max to bump into her chest. Max's nose is pointed at her phone. "C'mon Max, get off your damn phone and pay attention to me," Chloe gripes. She tries to snatch Max's phone from her hands, but Max wriggles out of her grip. Chloe rolls her eyes. "Seriously, Max? Your boyfriend can fucking wait."
"Sorry," Max mumbles. Her eyes remain glued to the screen. "I'm having a… discussion with Warren right now. It's really stressing me out, and I can't just ignore him." Max glances over at Chloe with a weary expression. She releases a frustrated groan. "That will only stress me out more. I'm really sorry. Chloe. I don't want to bum you out, and I don't know how long this is going to be dragged out. You can hang with someone else if you want."
The impatience on Chloe's face faces into sympathy. Chloe adjusts her beanie and shoves her hands into her pockets, leaning against a nearby streetlight. "Well shit," she says, her tone softer. "I don't wanna hang with anyone else, hippie. I miss hanging out with you. We don't get to hang out as often as we used to." Max frowns apologetically, and Chloe smiles sadly. Chloe kicks a broken bottle that's lying at her feet. "It's fine. Do whatever you gotta do. I can wait. Let's go sit somewhere so you don't crash into my boobs again."
They're at a small park, pressed against each other on a bench. Max leans her weight onto Chloe as she lies her phone on her lap, anticipating Warren's next reply. When Max's phone vibrates a couple minutes later, Chloe tries to steal a peek at the message preview. She squints, huffing. Max turned off her damn message previews.
"What the hell are you two fighting about anyways?" Chloe asks. She peers over Max's shoulder as Max responds to Warren's message. Max moves her shoulders, attempting to block Chloe from spying on her conversation.
"It's none of your business," Max replies curtly.
"Max," Chloe says. "Hey, don't you fucking hold out on me. Gimme the goods, Max." Max doesn't budge, and Chloe rests her chin on the top of Max's head. "C'mon. I can tell you need to bitch about this. Bitch to me, hippie."
Max inhales and exhales slowly. She looks fucking drained. Chloe uses this opportunity to quickly snatch Max's phone and sprint. Max yells at Chloe while simultaneously chasing after her. Chloe knows Max, so obviously she knows Max's password. She smirks to herself as she unlocks Max's phone and reads the last few messages of her most recent conversation.
WARREN: I'm just really concerned about your relationship with Chloe.
MAX: How many times do I have to repeat myself? Chloe has been my best friend for years. There's nothing to be concerned about. We're just friends. You never had a problem with Chloe before I outed myself. Don't you trust me?
WARREN: I trust you. I don't trust her.
MAX: If you trust me, then you have nothing to worry about. And Chloe wouldn't do anything to hurt me. She cares about me.
WARREN: I care about you too! And I've been noticing that you tend to ignore me whenever you hang out with her. I think you should at least text me once in awhile when you do. I always make sure to text you whenever I'm out with my friends.
MAX: But I do! I even told you when I would be hanging out with her, which to remind you, is right now. And I can't even enjoy her company because I'm too busy texting YOU. So don't complain that I don't give you enough attention when I'm with her, because I'm not obligated to talk to you when I'm hanging out with someone else.
WARREN: All I'm asking is for you not to ignore me as much. And if your reply takes more than twenty minutes, I want an explanation why.
MAX: Okay, fine. Is everything fixed now?
WARREN: What are you doing with Chloe right now? Have you been talking about me to her behind my back? Don't lie to me.
MAX: I would never do that. We're just hanging out and talking. But I can't even talk to her that much because I'm too busy trying to keep you happy.
Chloe's eager eyes can't pry away when a new message pops in from the bottom of the screen.
WARREN: Isn't that what you're supposed to do in a relationship?
Chloe stops running away from Max. She puts a hand on her hip, absolute fury painted across her face as Max catches up to her, hyperventilating. Max's expression matches Chloe's fury. Max lunges at Chloe, prying the phone from her hands. Chloe doesn't resist. She stares at Max with icy eyes and shakes her head in dismay.
"What the hell, Max?" Chloe hisses. "You're just gonna put up with this shit?"
Tears start to drip from Max's eyes, and she shoots Chloe a nasty glare. "What the hell is wrong with you?" Max retorts. "I was having a private conversation! You completely violated my privacy!"
Chloe rolls her eyes. "So?" she says, unable to shake the hatred from her voice. "It's good that I did. Now I know just how fucked up Warren really is. You need to get out of this shitty relationship. If you don't want to break up with him, I'll do it. Give me your phone. You can thank me later."
Max just stands there, shaking her head while the look on her face teeters on the edge of betrayal and disappointment. "You don't get it, Chloe," Max says in a low growl. "You're biased because you're only seeing the arguments. If someone took clips from the worst moments of your character and made it into a movie, it wouldn't capture you in a good light, now would it? You don't get to see how these conflicts get resolved. You don't get to see how Warren and I move past these problems and grow together. You're only seeing the bad shit and that's making you think he's horrible when he's not. He's just flawed, like all of us."
"God, Max! Just pull your head out of Warren's ass already!" Chloe snaps. "He's got way too many fucking issues right now and isn't ready to have a girlfriend. It's so obvious! Why can't you see it? Defend him all you want. It won't change that." Chloe scoffs. "You're just blinded because you love him or whatever."
There is a brief silence that follows. Max turns her back to Chloe. "I need to be alone right now," she says. "This is all too much for me to deal with. I can't argue with both of you at the same time. It's seriously wearing me down. I'll see you tomorrow, Chloe."
Chloe's expression softens. "Max, wait."
"I don't want to hear it," Max states, and she's walking away at a brisk pace. Chloe jogs to catch up to her. Max turns to Chloe, her face red. "I'm sick of being chastised. I don't need to you telling me what to do and being so overprotective all the damn time. It's suffocating. You're treating me like a damn child. I can handle myself." Max turns away. "Just leave me alone, Chloe. Please."
Chloe halts in her tracks. If Max refuses to listen, there's nothing more she can do. "Fine," Chloe eventually says, defeated. Max continues to walk, leaving Chloe to stand there by herself. Max doesn't look back, not even once.
"Hey, Max," Warren says. They're cuddling together on a park bench, with Warren's left arm wrapped around Max as she rests her weight onto his chest. Warren hands Max his phone, which shows a picture of a pale, Asian girl who is wearing a red bow in her brown, silky hair. The girl is staring off into the distance, mouth unsmiling with lips smeared with light pink lip gloss. Max glances at Warren, brows furrowed in confusion as she glares at the phone screen.
"Who is this?" Max asks, even though a part of her wishes she hadn't.
Warren shrugs. "Dunno," he says. "Some girl. She's pretty cute, right? Maybe we could get her to have a threesome with us."
He smiles while Max frowns, her eyes flashing hurt and chest stinging. She opens her mouth to speak, but as she tries to force the words out, a lump in her throat prevents her from doing so.
"Why…" Max begins, voice breaking. She pauses and swallows. She needs to take it slow. Max closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, attempting to regain her composure so everything she says doesn't spill out in one blubbering sobfest. "Why would you assume I'm interested in that sort of thing?" She avoids eye contact as she shoves the phone into Warren's lap.
Warren scratches the back of his head, looking sheepish. "Sorry, Max," he says slowly. "I just thought… because you are, well, you know, that you would—"
"Stop," Max says. Warren shifts uncomfortably in his seat and removes his arm from Max. Max sighs, leaning forward and hugging herself as a cool breeze rushes by, still refusing to meet Warren's gaze. "Please don't show me these things," she says. "It makes me uncomfortable. And please don't ever make that suggestion again. I'm not like that." When she finally decides to glance at Warren, his lips are curled into a frown, and he seems bewildered.
"Right," Warren says, nodding. He gulps. "Got it."
They both want the rest of their time together to return to normal and be light and happy, but instead, it is filled with awkward silences and awkward attempts at reconciliation. Max tries to enjoy her time with him, but she ends up feigning happiness. Warren presses her on what's bothering her, because he can read through her deception, but Max denies and denies. When Max is finally alone, all she can do is wonder about how many other girls Warren likes to look at who aren't her, among other things.
Max rests her head on Warren's chest as his back inclines against a tree, the rest of their bodies sprawled across grassy terrain. His right arm hooks around her chest, and her body sinks against him while also lying comfortably on the ground. In Warren's left hand is his phone, which has the cord of his headphones dangling out and splitting at the middle. The left earbud is with Max while Warren has the right. A video featuring animated sea lions in space plays, displaying brightly colored visuals and fine hand-drawn details.
A strong, continuous vibration whirs in the back pocket of Max's pants. She reaches for her phone and turns off the alarm she had set earlier that day. Max sits up, and Warren shifts his position, hesitant and meek. His face is rigid as Max removes her earbud.
"I'm hanging out with Kate and Stella today," Max says. A sheepish smile forms on her face. "We're going to an ice cream shop in a nearby city." Max rubs her arm with one hand and grips the fringes of her sweater with the other.
There's a slight glare on Warren's face, a hint of disappointment in his eyes, a subtle twitch of his lips. Warren leans forward, eyeing Max cautiously. "Well this is the first I'm hearing about this," he says in a low voice. His fingers curl inwards. "Why didn't you let me know sooner?"
Max clasps her hands together and purses her lips. "I didn't think much of it," she says, her breath shaken and the tension in her chest unwavering. "Stella is going to be driving." When there is no response, Max gently reaches for Warren's hand, which is limp and unaffectionate. "I'll only be gone for a little while," she reassures, tone soft.
The hardened expression on Warren's face remains constant. His eyes flit to the ground and then to Max, a back and forth motion of wanting to look at her but wanting to look away. The loose grip Warren has on Max's hand abruptly tightens, and his eyes meet hers in a passionate stare. "Stay here with me," he urges. He tugs at Max firmly, causing her weight to shift forward. "I was really looking forward to hanging out with you today."
Max sighs. "I haven't hung out with anyone else this week," she tells him. Max watches as Warren's face softens into a innocent pout, his eyes reflecting warmth and lips sweet and inviting. Max yanks her hand away from Warren's grip, and his eyes darken into a subtle glare. Max stands up, a mixture of guilt and bravery hitting her at once. "I won't be gone all day," she says. "We'll have plenty of time to hang out when I get back, okay?"
She smiles at him, but Warren's gaze avoids her. He begins to lightly pound his fist against the ground in repetitive slams, not once meeting Max's eyes. His brows furrow, eyes focused off into the distance and lips in a small quiver. Max can feel the beat of her heart plummet, a continuous descent that aches at her core.
"Fine," Warren says.
It's the last word he says to her before she leaves, and it's the first word he says to her when she returns and asks him about his day. And when she tries to carry out a conversation with him, all he does is ask her why it took her so long to get back.
"You never told me Alyssa was your ex."
They're sitting at a table in the library, just the two of them, with nothing else but the sounds of pages flipping and pens scratching and keyboards typing from across the other end. Warren rips his eyes away from his book, nose pointing up, his hands folded while resting his chin against them. He blows a drawn-out sigh through pursed lips, his cheeks puffing out as he does so. Max holds her breath, immobile in her seat. She is frozen, a statue, the anticipation of Warren's response digging through her skin like a rusty blade.
"I don't see what the problem is," Warren finally says.
"You still hang out with her from time to time," Max points out. "It just makes me a little uncomfortable." She can feel her chest burning and itching and dropping all at once, a surge of restlessness overtaking her. Her wrists tremble, but Max hides it and hides it well. Why does confronting Warren about things that bother her always make her feel this way? Why does she feel obligated to sugarcoat her feelings? Is it to protect Warren, or is it to protect herself? Why is it so difficult to talk to him? And why does it hurt so much?
Warren shrugs, leaning back and letting his hands drop to his sides. "And you're still hanging out with Chloe," he says, tone nonchalant, yet with underlying resentment. The corners of his lips curl downward. "Alyssa and I are just friends. Just like you and Chloe. There shouldn't be a problem here."
Max's whole body feels like it's sinking into a pit, into depths that she cannot escape. The tears the tears the tears. She fights them off and fights them off well, perhaps a little too well. Perhaps she's getting better at this, whatever this is. Hiding. Repressing. Max sucks in a deep breath, gains her composure, and eyes Warren cautiously.
"Except I never dated Chloe," she tells him. "You're making an unfair comparison."
"You're jealous of Alyssa, and I'm jealous of Chloe," Warren says. "It's the same thing. We're both just going to have to suck it up and deal with it. You trust me, don't you?"
Max nods slowly. "Yeah," she says. "I do."
"There you go," Warren says, gesturing with his hand. "Listen, I'm just the kind of guy who can remain friends with his exes. My relationship with you isn't going to change that. My friendship with Alyssa is here to stay." Warren cocks his head to the side, eyeing Max intently and leaning forward in his seat. "If you trust me, then you have nothing to worry about. Okay?"
"Yeah," Max says, feeling worse than before. "Okay."
It's three in the morning when Chloe's phone rings, because that's how it's been every other night for the past two weeks. Chloe knows exactly how this scene will unfold, because every night that her phone rings at three in the morning, the scene unfolds the same way. Chloe knows that it will be Max on the other end, voice cracked, breathing staggered in short puffs, the vibrancy she once radiated stripped away from the fibers of her being. And they'll talk for hours—she's sure of this—but Chloe knows it'll be the same old story and Max will say the same old things. Hell, Chloe herself will say the same old things. But this is Max we're talking about, and Chloe cannot for the life of her say no to Max.
So when Chloe answers the phone and hears Max's voice, devoid of life and soul chipped away, Chloe aches. She aches for Max and because of Max, as she always does. She will listen to Max cry about a boy who doesn't deserve her tears, and she will tell Max to dump his ungrateful ass. Max won't listen and will get defensive, so Chloe will get offensive. Then she'll make Max cry, and Chloe will have to apologize. But that won't stop Chloe from screaming and screaming at Max to get the fuck out time and time again. And Max will absorb Chloe's verbal punches, because that's what Max does. And Max will thank her for the advice, but of course, she won't take it. Max is so in love, so obsessed, that she will let Warren hurt her. And Warren will never stop hurting her.
Chloe knows Max is unhappy and Max admits that she's unhappy, but she keeps defending him for some goddamn reason. It kills Chloe to see Max like this, and Chloe knows it's killing Max too. It kills her and kills her. It will keep killing her, and Chloe can only watch. It will keep killing, killing the both of them, killing and killing until it destroys them completely.
Rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat.
It's six in the morning. Chloe needs rest.
There are times, particularly during intimate moments between Max and Warren, when things escalate to levels beyond Max's comfort. Warren would be kissing Max's neck while she would sit on his lap, pressing her weight against him. He would slip a hand underneath her shirt to touch her bare skin, and the way he would run his fingers down her back would send electrifying sensations. She would nip at his ear; he would fiercely grasp at her ass; she would pull on his hair; he would snake his fingers into her panties. And it would be hot and heavy and fun, and Max would enjoy every second of it.
But then he would attempt to pull down her pants or tear off her shirt or unclasp her bra, and Max would know where it'd be heading if she let things continue. She never did. She'd always protest, loud and clear. Warren would pout and release a frustrated sigh, and all the pleasure from what they were doing beforehand would be stripped away, replaced with unacknowledged tension.
"Warren," Max would say, tone always gentle. "I'm sorry. I'm just not ready."
His back would always be turned on her, or his gaze diverted elsewhere, never meeting her eyes. "It's fine," he would respond, but his voice would always be cold, always distant, always bitter. Max would feel so small, so alone, coexisting in the same space as Warren, but he would feel like a stranger. Then the guilt from disappointing him yet again would settle into her chest for the rest of their time together. It hurts to reject him and to be rejected by him, but it she's not ready. Not yet. Max wonders when she will be, or if she will ever be.
This time, they're on her bed, and Max is on the bottom as Warren lies on top of her, the pressure of his weight keeping Max pinned. He's running his fingers through her hair with one hand and cupping her cheek with the other. Max's hands move up and down Warren's back in frantic motions, fingers clawing at his shirt. His right hand begins to travel down her body and reaches the edge of her pants. He grips it, and then gives it a violent tug. Max's pants slip halfway off. She panics, heart thudding furiously as she hastily yanks them back up.
"No," she stutters, but her voice is muffled as Warren's forceful lips smash into hers.
"No?" Warren says, but he's showing no signs of slowing down. "Why 'no?'"
"I just—" Max says, voice weak as Warren continues to advance on her. His efforts become increasingly vehement; every time Max intervenes in what he's attempting to do, Warren persists. She tries to push him away, but Warren pushes back. Every physical and verbal protest is matched with greater assertion. Warren's eyes are ravenous. His hands, once caressing her tenderly, have now become rough and fervent. He's so close, close to taking what's rightfully hers, close to breaking her willpower. Maybe it's already broken.
Max whimpers as she squirms underneath his body. She resists Warren in every way she can, but he keeps going. He just keeps going and going, becoming more and more aggressive in his movements as time drags on. It's hell, being here, being touched, being trapped between him and this mattress. There is only one escape. And Max knows. She knows he won't stop until she either gives in or screams. But Max can't scream. If she screams she'll upset him, maybe enough to lose him.
"Max, please," Warren begs. "I want you so badly."
She doesn't say anything. She just stops resisting, stops fighting. She gives up and gives him all control, and he seizes it with ardent ferocity. Max goes limp. She lies there expressionless, ignoring the pain when he first breaks into her, ignoring the raw, burning friction that strikes her with every motion. Each passing second is torture, physical and mental and emotional torture, and all that occupies Max's mind is when will this end please let this end I just want this to be over. Every muscle in her body is taut. She tries to block out all feeling, but she can't; she just can't.
When it's finished, Warren sits up, gratification evident on his face. Max remains on the bed with dead eyes, feeling humiliated, violated, and yet feeling nothing all at once. Warren whispers something but it doesn't register; nothing does. Max doesn't speak. She can't speak, let alone move. Warren doesn't seem to notice, or if he does, he doesn't seem to care. He just scoops Max into his arms and kisses the top of her forehead. That's okay. That's a little better, Max supposes.
At least now he still loves her. He can't leave her, not after this.
"Where have you been?"
It's the same question Warren asks her every night when she's ten or twenty minutes late to his place. Max had once looked forward to visiting Warren at the end of her day. She doesn't enjoy it anymore; it's like every time she wants to spend their time relaxing and having fun, there is always something to be brought up, always a long and emotionally taxing discussion to follow. It causes Max to dread her nights with Warren, even on nights when he isn't wearing her down. Just the anticipation that he might be upset with her is enough to make her wish she didn't have to go. She needs a break. But she's obligated to spend time with him every day, so she does.
"I was hanging out with a friend," Max says, Warren's stare beating down on her as she enters his bedroom. She slinks onto the couch, her nerves mounting. "I lost track of time," she elaborates, voice low. "I'm sorry."
Warren hovers over her with his arms crossed and glare unwavering. "Who were you out with?" he asks, not attempting to mask the darkness in his tone.
Max sighs and brings her knees closer together. She clasps her hands together, sitting upright and stiffly. "Why does it matter?" Max asks, the words sputtering out of her mouth heatedly. She wants more than anything right now to run away, to go somewhere else, to hide, to curl into a ball and make herself disappear where no one can find her.
"Just answer the question," Warren says.
"I was with Chloe," Max says quickly, voice so quiet that she almost can't hear herself say it.
"Who?" Warren asks. "Speak up!"
"Chloe," Max repeats hoarsely.
"Chloe, huh?" Warren says, tone and expression relentless. "And what were you two doing?"
"Nothing," Max says. "We were just talking."
"About what?"
Max is unable to speak. Heat and apprehension circulate throughout her entire body, rendering her immobile. Warren's eyes bulge and his lips snarl and his fists clench, all traces of warmth and affection dissipated from his posture and tone. Even as Max sinks further back into her seat, tears dripping and hands trembling, Warren displays no remorse.
"Give me your phone," Warren says, extending his hand in an impatient manner. "Now."
Max glances up at him in confusion. "Why?"
"If you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to worry about," is all he says. Max swiftly complies. Warren scans her phone, grunting every now and then as he pries through her messages. When he is finished, he tosses the phone into her lap. "From now on, I'm going to check your messages every night," he says. "I need to make sure you're not cheating on me or anything. And you must tell me whenever you hang out with someone. Okay?"
Max nods. "Okay," she says.
Warren's face softens, just a tiny fraction. Even so, it's enough for Max to feel a little bit calmer. "Good," Warren says, the harshness from his voice fading.
Max wants this cycle to end. She just wants him to stop yelling, for him to be happy, for him to smile again and not look at her with disgust and disappointment. She wants this feeling of isolation to end. She wants to feel loved by him again. She can't remember the last time she felt loved.
Warren plops beside her on the couch and slings his arm over her shoulder. Max shuts her eyes and leans against him, inhaling his scent and feeling light by the presence of his body. Warren takes his hand and grips Max's chin, forcing her to look into his intense eyes. He pulls her face closer to him and brushes his lips against her forehead.
"Hey," Warren says gently. He gives a soft smile. "I love you, okay? Don't ever doubt that." Max sniffles, and Warren wipes the tears away from her cheek with his other hand. He embraces her in a huge hug, and Max gets lost in the firmness of his grip and the warmth of his body.
"I love you too," Max says through shaky breaths.
Chloe is on the phone with Max again, and she is tired. She is tired of having to listen about Warren's bullshit day after day, tired of Max drawing the same conclusions while also refusing to acknowledge the solution. She doesn't enjoy listening to Max force her words out, especially knowing that it's hard for Max to articulate how she's feeling without being so emotionally involved in what she's saying. And when she hears Max choke on her words, it takes every piece of strength Chloe has not to fall apart in that moment.
It hurts. Chloe knows it's hurting Max far worse than it's hurting herself, but it still doesn't make it hurt any less. And she loves Max more than anything in this world, but Chloe can't keep this up forever. She wishes she could talk to Max every day without it straining her emotionally. She wishes she could be the support that Max needs. Chloe wishes she could be there for Max, more than anything, but she just can't take this anymore.
"Warren doesn't want me moving to Seattle," Max croaks out. Chloe hears her sniffle on the other end. "I tried convincing him that it would be great for my career, but he doesn't want me leaving Arcadia Bay. I really wanted to go, too, but I just can't do that to him. Still though, I'm so bummed about it. It was my dream. But I love him, you know? This whole thing has gotten me seriously stressed out."
Chloe grits her teeth and rubs her temple. "Fuck Warren," she tells her. "Max, you have to do what makes you happy, not him!"
"You don't get it, Chloe," Max insists. "When you're in a relationship, you have to make compromises to keep the other person happy."
Chloe scoffs. "Sounds like you're the only one making the compromises," she states matter-of-factly. "What kind of shit has Warren done that went out of his way for you?"
Max doesn't speak. White noise and the sounds of Max's breathing are all that come through from the other end. Chloe shakes her head and falls back into her bed, staring at the ceiling. Max clears her throat and makes soft noises, like she wants to say something but can't muster up the words. Chloe rolls her eyes. It's the same shit every time.
"He really cares about me," Max finally says. Chloe bites her tongue, suppressing the itch to slice through Max's words with truth and cynicism. It's not like Max would've taken her words to heart anyways. "You don't see it, but he really does care about me." Go ahead and tell yourself that, as if you haven't been bitching at me for the past hour. Chloe stirs, restless, with rage seething inside her. She doesn't feel like commenting, so Max continues.
"I just wish he wasn't upset with me a lot," Max admits. "I feel like I can't relax when I'm with him. Every day is like an emotional rollercoaster. He's always paranoid about something. He gets upset if I'm busy and I can't spend that much time with him, and he gets really jealous whenever I want to hang out with someone else. I love spending time with him, but I also love spending time with my friends too. I just feel so guilty whenever I want to hang out with other people."
Different phrasing, same shit. Every day every day every day. Max is smart, so why can't she see it? It's so goddamn obvious, and Max can't fucking see it. It frustrates Chloe to no end.
"And whenever I tell him that something's been bothering me," Max continues, voice about to crack, "he always makes it about him and turn it against me. He always finds a way to remove himself from any fault and puts the blame on me. He always implies that I need to get over it, like it's my own fault I'm feeling this way. Every time I confide in him, it stresses me out. I hate it so much. I feel like I'm going crazy."
"Then fucking break up with him!" Chloe yells, voice shrieking.
There is a pause. "I don't want to," Max murmurs. "I think we're just going through a rough patch. I know we can work this out."
"Max," Chloe begins, but she stops herself. She shuts her eyes and presses her thumb and forefinger against her forehead. She inhales. She exhales. "Alright," Chloe says. "Fine. Stay with Warren if that's what you want. It's not like you listen to me anyways. But I'm done with this shit, you hear me? I'm sick of hearing you cry and complain all the damn time and then not doing a damn thing about it. You know I'm here for you, Max, but this is just too much for me."
"Chloe?" Max utters, and the way her voice breaks almost breaks Chloe too.
"Only tell me the good shit about your relationship or get out," Chloe continues, throat raspy. "Simple as that. I can't stand listening to you like this anymore, Max. It drains the hell out of me."
"Chloe," Max repeats, and Chloe does everything she can not to cry. Not now, Price. In this moment, she can't afford to be weak. She can't afford to give into this shit any longer. "You're my best friend," Max chokes out. "Who else am I gonna turn to? I need you by my side!"
"I'm always on your side, Max," Chloe asserts softly. "But I've done all I can." She sighs. "I'll talk to you later, Max. I need some room to fucking breathe."
"Chloe wait—"
Chloe hangs up. She drops her phone onto the floor, ignoring the calls from Max as her phone continuously vibrates. She rolls to her side. Chloe brings her knees to her chest and smashes her face against her pillow, screaming and crying.
It's been a week. Chloe still hasn't heard from Max. It's strange for sure; she hasn't gone this long without talking to her, except for that time Max went to summer camp in the fifth grade. It's a hole in her chest that can't be filled, no matter how much Chloe tries, no matter how many other people she hangs out with. Max is always on her mind, and knowing that Max is suffering silently makes it even worse. But Chloe chose this. This is what she gets. She can't decide if hearing Max cry is any better or worse than not hearing from her at all. It sucks.
Chloe is at American Rust, hanging around by the train tracks, when her phone vibrates. It's brief, denoting a text message. Chloe knows it's from Max without having to even look at the screen, because she set a custom vibration for Max that mimics the pattern of a heartbeat. Her stomach flips. She takes out her phone to read what Max has to say.
MAX: I can't take this anymore. I want to break up with Warren, but I don't know how. I'm afraid that if I try to break up with him, he'll convince me to stay, and that I'll fall for it. I need your help. Please.
Chloe can't respond fast enough.
CHLOE: Meet at my place in 30 min
MAX: Thank you so much. You have no idea how grateful I am.
CHLOE: I'm always on your side. That'll never change.
MAX: I know. Thank you.
Chloe rushes back. In her room, she sits at her desk, taking glimpses out the window for any signs of Max. She browses aimlessly on her laptop, clicking randomly through websites as her eyes flit to the window, then back at the screen, then back at the window again. It's been twenty-eight minutes. Chloe catches the mop of brown hair and the curvature of Max's body. She nearly falls out of her chair as she stumbles out of her room, darting for the front door. Before Max can even knock, Chloe swings open the door.
They both freeze, eyes locking. Underneath Max's eyes are dark circles. Her usually peachy face is a sickly pale, her soft hair now a disheveled mess, with loose strands sticking out and greasy pieces falling onto her face. Lips unsmiling. Face sinking. Chloe knows Max is stick-thin, but she really looks underweight, even for her. Max opens her mouth, wordless, a lump in her throat. She bites her lip and closes her eyes. Chloe steps forward and pulls Max into a gentle hug. Max sniffles. Chloe squeezes her watery eyes shut.
"I'm so sorry," Max croaks, and she bawls.
Chloe tightens her embrace as Max reciprocates the hug. "I'm sorry too," she whispers. "Let's go upstairs, yeah? Don't want the whole neighborhood peeping in on our sobfest."
"It would definitely ruin your street cred as an unfeeling badass," Max says softly.
Chloe smiles. "Yeah, totally."
In Chloe's room, Max sits on the bed, shoulders slumped and arms folded across her chest. Chloe sits beside her, hand rubbing Max's back in an attempt to soothe her. Max inhales a deep breath and then exhales; it's a slow, heavy drag. Chloe's arm naturally finds its way onto Max's shoulder, and Max rests her head against Chloe's cheek.
"I don't know what to do," Max finally says. "I'm afraid of what he might do."
Chloe frowns. Anger boils inside her chest, and she feels herself quiver. Every inch of her body wants solace for Max, and she will not let Warren drag Max down any longer. "You have me," Chloe reassures Max, her voice firm yet soft. "I won't let him hurt you. Not ever again."
"How?" Max asks, incredulous. "You have no idea what he's capable of."
"First, have you told your parents about this?" Chloe asks. Max shakes her head. "Well you need to get on that shit. Listen, Max. I have a feeling Warren won't leave you alone unless some drastic shit happens. You have to get them on your side."
Max stares at Chloe with wide eyes. "Do you have a plan, Chloe?"
Chloe stares back with utmost sincerity. She nods. "You still up for living the dream in Seattle?"
Within the span of two weeks, Max had been able to pack her bags and leave Arcadia Bay as a distant memory. After explaining the situation, her parents were willing to let her finish school at Riverpeak Academy in Seattle without hesitation. Principal Wells had offered to investigate the matter to let her stay at Blackwell, but Max didn't want to antagonize Warren any longer by getting him kicked out of Blackwell, even though it's what he deserves. Max just needed to get out and get away and fast.
So she did. And she has.
Chloe had to stay behind, of course. Max was able to transfer schools because her circumstances required her to leave Arcadia Bay in a quiet and efficient manner. As much as both of them would've liked to stick together—as they always had—Chloe wasn't able to come along, especially with her GPA. But that was okay. They both knew what had to be done. They both knew what it meant. And Chloe couldn't be more relieved knowing that Max is now safe, even if she's without her.
Initially after the breakup, Warren would continuously bombard Max with text messages and voicemails of varying tones; he would beg and he would apologize and he would also be downright hostile. He demanded to know where she was. Max lied, naming some art school in California. She would occasionally talk to Warren against her better judgment, and almost agreed to get back together with him at one point. But she reminded herself that there was a reason why they split up, and there was a reason why she went away. She couldn't heal if she kept in contact with him. She blocked his number and blocked him on social media.
That couldn't stop the emails. Even though Max blacklisted his email, Warren would create new email accounts in an attempt to reach out to her. With each new email, he had become more and more demanding, and her inbox multiplied with more emails every new day. Max couldn't take any more risks. She changed her email. She also changed her phone number, just to be sure.
It was difficult to cut Warren out in the beginning. He had become such a huge aspect of her life that for awhile, Max couldn't shake the feeling that a part of her was missing. She did miss him, sometimes. Then once in awhile. Then rarely. Then never. When she had gone a complete two months without any contact from Warren, Max hadn't realized how much better off she was until someone asked if she was single or not. She had completely forgotten what it felt like to be single, and when she was reminded of it, it finally hit her how free and happy she truly was without her being aware of it.
Seattle is, in every sense, a dream come true. The weather, the people, the art scene. Max soaks in every inch of Seattle's atmosphere, embracing the city and immersing herself in its culture. There are photographic opportunities at every corner, and the people here just click with her better. It's fun. It's beautiful. It's refreshing. Max finds herself fitting in, integrating seamlessly with her peers at Riverpeak. Everything here is more than she could have ever hoped to have in Arcadia Bay.
Max graduates. Chloe graduates. Max will be attending university in the fall, but the summer promises new experiences and open doors. Chloe decides to take a year off to figure out what the hell she wants to do with her life. But Chloe knows. When Max finishes moving out of her dorm and into a new apartment, Chloe appears at her doorstep with a backpack, duffel bag, and mischievous grin smacked across her smug face. Max stares at her for a moment, amusement dangling off her lips.
"Figured you could use an exciting roommate to spice up your life," Chloe says, just as Max dives in for a hug.
"Chloe!" Max says, beaming. "It's so good to see you. You have no idea how much I've missed you."
Chloe rolls her eyes, smile still stretched wide. "As if you don't remind me every day," she says, nudging Max with her elbow. She waltzes into Max's apartment and tosses her bags onto the floor. "You better be okay with me crashing here indefinitely. I'm not going anywhere, Caulfield."
Max grins. "I wouldn't dream of it."
It's been three weeks since Max and Chloe have started dating, and being girlfriends with your lifelong best friend is one of the easiest transitions Max has ever made. They cuddle and hold hands and kiss each other lightly, and everything feels so natural and so good and so right. Chloe makes Max feel so many things Warren never did. Max hadn't known what a healthy relationship felt like. Not with Warren. Not until Chloe. And now that she's in one, Max knows what she deserves. She knows how she should be treated. It feels amazing to be with someone who cares for you like a significant other should.
Max is still healing. Sometimes, Chloe wants to take things further, but there's this physical and mental block that Max can't just break through. It happens while they're making out, and suddenly Chloe's tugging at Max's pants, causing Max to freak out.
"I'm sorry," Max would say, cheeks warming up and chest pulsing with apprehension. "I'm just not ready. I don't know when I will be."
But Chloe would always understand.
"Hey," Chloe would say. "Don't stress, okay? We can take things as slow as you need them to be." Chloe would kiss the top of Max's forehead and give her hand a gentle squeeze. "I won't pressure you into doing anything you don't wanna do. Take all the time in world."
That's when Max knew, at long last, she could finally feel safe in someone's arms.
Fin.
A/N: As an afterthought, I want everyone to know that in the game, I don't see Warren as an abuser. However, there are little hints about his character that, given certain circumstances, he does have the potential to become one. I know on the surface he is dorky and sweet, but given his treatment of Brooke and how badly he beats up Nathan if you don't intervene, there is certainly the potential for a darker side to develop, especially in a relationship. I definitely can picture him doing things in a relationship that are not healthy, but may seem okay from his point of view. I took his potential dark side and emphasized it in this fic.