A/N: Okay, kids, I want to say one thing before we begin. First of all, this is obviously a slash fic. It's an experiment as a writer on my part, really. Second, all characters represented in this fic are taken from the perspective of a very depressed Max. Things said in this fic do not necessarily reflect how I really feel about the characters mentioned. In fact, they //don't// reflect how I actually feel. I simply took each character and warped he or she to fit Max's current emotional state. She feels burned, and she's looking for reasons to hate or to love. Just keep that in mind if you start to get offended...even though I really doubt that there's anything in here that will //truly// offend anyone. Just gots ta cover all mah bases is all.
Anyway, before we begin, I'm going to extend one more warning to anyone and everyone reading. THIS IS SLASH. There is //no// sex because it isn't meant to be sexy and it isn't meant to be fluffy; it's about //emotional turmoil.// But it's still SLASH. So don't go complaining to me about it if you're a purist about your ship pref or slash offends you but you keep on reading anyway; I've warned you more than enough about the content.
Now, without further adieu...
*******
When was she ever going to learn?
The men in her life never stuck around, never gave her much beyond pain and saline, never afforded her the love and romance that all the sappy books and TV shows and kids on the street always talked about. It was true that she often scampered from love like a scared puppy, tail dragging between her legs, but even when she gathered the courage to stand her ground and keep from running, things still managed to go sour. She was now considering it quite possible that she was not meant to experience that most tender of emotions.
She lay on the couch in her apartment and watched Original Cindy move with ease through the kitchen, preparing her friend and roommate some good old-fashioned soul-warming chicken noodle soup. It had been difficult to secure, but one way or another the two of them had gotten their hands on it. Well, actually it was pretty much all Max, but OC was the one who had heard about its location through the grapevine. In any case, it would do her well to have some, depressive fog as she was in. Anything that seemed right and good was welcome at the moment.
Deep down, she knew that it wasn't Logan's fault. The only people at fault were those at Manticore; not surprising, considering that they had managed to screw things up for her innumerable times in the past. However, before recently, she had always been able to surmount whatever obstacles her creators had, inadvertently or otherwise, set in her path. It bothered her that this obstacle, this godforsaken virus, seemed utterly impossible to move around, and that it now not only threatened whatever romantic relationship she might have had with Logan, but their foundation of friendship as well. The tension had grown to be too much, and as sometimes happens, their frayed nerves transformed the both of them into temperamental children and a series of rather volatile fights had broken out between them. Now, the last vestige of their old relationship shattered, Max lay broken and wounded, trying without much avail to sort through her emotions.
Alec hadn't been much help. He had asked her what was wrong and when she had explained he made a wisecrack or two, apparently not understanding the import of her predicament. He had gotten the clue eventually and offered his sympathy, but it was too late by then. The "primitive defense mechanism" was back in place and she was running again, running away from the last closely regarded man in her life. Running back to the comforts of home, to the comforts of a reliable, bulletproof friendship that had stood the test of time better than most.
Her relationship with Cindy was the only one that had lasted, the only one that had ever offered her any bankable amount of support and consistency. Cindy was the only one who had always been there, who had remained by Max's side no matter what the quandary, who always had something helpful and worthwhile to say. She was the only one who was truly //there,// and Max thought it quite reasonable to believe that her dear friend would always be there. In a world like this, where hearts are broken as effortlessly as the sun rises, one cannot ask for much more than that. In such a sense, she considered herself very lucky, and was grateful that she had found someone like Cindy.
"One hot bowl o' chicken noodle soup comin' atcha," OC quipped as she settled opposite Max on the coffee table. Max smiled and pulled herself up into a half-sitting position, her back pressed firmly against the arm of the couch.
"Thanks," she replied meekly. She took the bowl into her hands and sipped at it gingerly, the heat of the broth stinging the roof of her mouth but delighting her tongue and pleasantly warming her throat as it went down. She closed her eyes and savored the taste, one that she hadn't experienced in years, and she heard her roommate chuckle slightly.
"That bad, huh?"
Max grinned. "Worst I ever had."
"Well, Original Cindy and the kitchen ain't never get along too well," joked Cindy. The playful expression on her face then swiftly faded, replaced with one of concern and empathy. "How ya holdin' out?"
Max sighed, her vision falling to a random spot on her stomach as the soup was lowered to her lap. "I could be a hell of a lot better," she confessed. "He always said we could get through no matter what came at us, but..." She sighed again as she closed her eyes and leaned her head back. "I think it's really over this time, Cindy. We're just...we're not //good// for each other anymore."
"Now, you just sayin' that cuz ya had a bad fight, that's all," Original Cindy explained, her voice soft and compassionate, as always. "You two'll work things out and get it back togetha like ya always do, and everything'll be just fine."
"No, Cindy, not this time," Max insisted. She had never so staunchly opposed Cindy's understated wisdom, but then, she had never been so sure of herself. "We can't go on like this. There doesn't look to be any hope for a cure and it's too difficult for either of us to even be in the same room as each other. I mean, it drives me crazy, seeing him and knowing that I want him and he wants me but we can't do a goddamn thing about it. Do you have any idea what that's like, to have something you want right there in front of you, but no matter what you do, you can never have it? We're just torturing ourselves by seeing each other like this. So either the virus is gone tomorrow or our relationship's gone, and I think you know the odds as well as I do."
Cindy fell silent and hung her head, knowing that, for once, Max was justified in losing hope. Truth be told, she had lost much of her faith in her friend's star-crossed relationship over the past few months, but she cared deeply for Max and the last thing she wanted was to see the girl washed out and devoid of hope. Her sunny optimism also afforded that she be somewhat in denial of the stark reality of the situation, desperately looking for the light at the end of this apparently endless tunnel. Unfortunately, things don't always work out the way one might like them to, and at this point it seemed that the best course of action was to accept such a truth as quickly as possible in order to avoid more pain and heartache.
She reached forward and gently removed the bowl of the soup from her dejected friend's hands, setting it off to the side. "I'm sorry, boo," she whispered as she leaned forward and embraced the girl, clasping Max's head tightly to her shoulder. It was then that, for the first time, Max truly allowed herself to cry, letting out stream after stream of tears, each droplet representing a facet of the frustration and longing and confusion and heartache that had plagued her for nearly a year. She allowed herself to get lost in her emotions and in the warmth and safety of her dearest companion's arms, releasing what she had kept buried inside for far too long.
"It's gonna be aiight," Cindy murmured, rubbing Max's back. "Ya gonna get through this. Maybe not with him, but mah girl is tough and I know, in the end, you gonna get out intact." She pulled back slightly and caught Max's eye, instinctively brushing a stray lock of hair behind the girl's ear. "Just cuz it may be over between you two don' mean your life's over, or that there ain't somebody else out there for ya. You jus' keep your head up, okay?"
Max smiled slightly and nodded, then had to avert her eyes from Cindy's, suddenly overwhelmed by an odd suggestion that had entered her mind. By "somebody else," her friend had meant some other guy, not...
"Ya hear me, boo? Pull that chin up," said OC, interrupting Max's thoughts. Slightly startled, the X-5's eyes zipped back around to meet those of her roommate's, growing wide from the sudden and unexpected intensity of the contact. Here was someone who had barely ever made a move to leave her, even at Max's admission about her true identity. Here was someone who genuinely cared, who had no ulterior motive, who knew exactly when to be playful and when to be serious, who was understanding, slow to anger and full of what appeared to be unconditional love. Had her final blow-out with Logan really rendered her so confused and, for lack of a better term, messed up, or was she just now legitimately recognizing something that she should have seen a long time ago?
"I..." she began, bewildered by her emotional state, uncertain over how she should proceed. Cindy cocked an eyebrow, visibly perplexed by the change in her friend's demeanor, and Max found herself awash in a familiar brand of internal conflict. It was probably just her emotional turmoil that was placing these thoughts into her head, probably just her wounds aching for any sort of comfort that might present itself, rational or otherwise. But what if this was the relationship on which she was supposed to be concentrating? What if this was where she could find the love for which she secretly longed? What if she had simply been denying it, had simply overlooked it because something had always been in the way, had always been telling her that it wasn't right? Just what if?
Nothing ever worked out with the men in her life. Zack had sacrificed himself for her, his utterly unworthy little sister, and she had given him up like the rotten fool that she was, taking more guilt upon her shoulders than with which she could properly deal. The virus had come between she and Logan and now he was pushing her away. She was pushing back, of course, but he had promised to always be there, to never give up. What did those promises mean now? Nothing; he had stopped caring. And Alec, well, he was good for a laugh sometimes but she couldn't handle how he turned away from her and how he so often didn't know how to properly react to certain situations. She saw how he operated; he was much like she had once been, and she knew that if she got too close he'd scamper away, because that's what people like them do. They turn their backs and they //run.//
They had all let her down, or she had let them down, and they would continue to do so. But she had never felt like running from OC, and OC was always the one to hoist her up rather than drag her down. It seemed so painfully obvious now; she sincerely wondered why she had never before considered the possibility, had never before dared to remove the blinders from her eyes.
Chest heaving, heart pounding, and a streak of uncontrollable compulsion passing through her, Max leaned up and rapidly captured Cindy's lips in her own. Her arms remained at her sides and she dared not move, dared not breathe, dared only to retain the contact, to experience the unaccustomed texture and taste of her friend's lips. She wasn't quite sure what she was feeling, whether it was innately negative or positive; she only knew that it was a rush and that the number of thoughts that clambered for superiority within her battered mind were overwhelming.
A few seconds passed before Original Cindy realized what was happening and pulled away, her face plastered in shock. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out, and Max felt a cold panic sweep over her. The import of what she had done struck her hard and she thought she might start crying again.
"Oh...oh my god, I'm...I'm sorry," she stammered. "I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry." She sank back into the couch and tried to disappear into the cushions. She smeared her hands across her face, attempting to conceal the flush of red that she knew was presently spreading across her cheeks, attempting to conceal her humiliation. It was truly rotten what intense emotion could do to a person, and she was reminded then why she always struggled so hard to keep it hidden. It was to prevent herself from doing stupid things like this, from risking more than she could stand to lose.
Soft, gentle palms made contact with her wrists a few moments later, gingerly pulling them up and out, freeing Max's face from the confines of her hands. Eyes met, and Max was surprised to find that the chocolate pair that gazed into her own was filled with a compassionate sense of irony rather than with fear and disgust.
"Don' worry about it, your li'l head's jus' really screwed up right now," Cindy responded calmly. There was a hint of uncertainty in her voice, but it was nothing big, nothing over which it was worth to fall apart.
"Yeah, I guess." Max thought for a moment, deliberating over the events of the past few minutes and trying to discern how she really felt. The truth was that she couldn't, that she wasn't entirely sure, but that the small piece of a something that she thought she might feel for her best friend didn't seem to stem simply from her current emotional state. The deeper she looked, the more her newfound feelings made sense, and that both scared and excited her. "But...I don't know, Cindy. I just don't know."
OC sat back on the coffee table and leaned on her knees, sighing heavily and allowing her head to fall into her hands. "Well, if that wa'n't just you bein' confused, then...what're we supposed ta do, Max?"
"Don't know that, either." She sat up fully this time and faced Cindy, her knees brushing up against those of the other girl. The close proximity spurred Cindy to lift her head and once again make eye contact with her close friend, and the tension and confusion were so thick that, for an instant, she wanted nothing more than to get up and race from the building. Max didn't deserve that, though; she didn't deserve to lose another person about whom she cared. It might very well send her over the edge. So Cindy stayed, uncomfortable as she was, because since the two of them had met, she had always put Max first and that wasn't going to change now.
And that said something, didn't it? She didn't treat most of her friends the way in which she treated Max. This girl was special to her; she knew it, everyone else knew it, and apparently Max knew it, as well. Was that why Max had acted in such a manner? Was she so distraught by what had gone on that she was now looking for any opportunity? A part of Cindy wanted to pursue what the kiss might have meant, but she was a rational individual and rationally, she didn't want to risk losing a very good friend on the off-chance that this was the result of pure emotional calamity.
"Max...look, we jus' gotta wait this out. You prolly don' even know what ya doin' right now."
The pleading look on Max's face was almost more than Cindy could bear. "I...I think I might..." She leaned forward cautiously and pressed her forehead against her roommate's, testing out the sensation, analyzing whatever feelings that coursed through her at that moment. She closed her eyes in concentration and it wasn't long before they were kissing again, this time with slightly more confidence, exploring but taking great care not to go too far. When they broke away, they looked upon each other with a strange, burgeoning awe, and each had to work hard to settle her heartbeat. For all they knew, it might simply have been their closeness as friends that evoked such feelings, but the thought that it might be something more was sufficiently thrilling for them each to hope.
An eternity seemed spent on staring at one another before Cindy bowed her head and moved away. "Uh...your soup's gettin' cold," she mumbled as she stood and backed away, fidgeting quite noticeably.
"Oh...yeah..." said Max as she reached for the forgotten bowl, hunching over with a sudden bout of insecurity as she brought it to her lips and took what was, so far, only her second sip. Cindy went and busied herself in the kitchen, washing the pot in which she had cooked the soup with unusual vigor. A brand of silence that they had never before experienced when with each other fell over them, bringing painfully to light what each of them had feared about entertaining the idea of a possible deepening of their relationship. Things would likely get back to "normal" in a few hours but each knew that, deep down, everything had changed. Whether such was for better or for worse remained to be seen.
"Cindy?" Max began after she had downed most of her soup.
"Yeah?" Original Cindy replied quietly.
"What happens now?"
Cindy paused for a moment. "Whateva's supposed ta happen, I guess."
Max chuckled dryly. "I don't like that answer."
"Me neither," Cindy admitted. "But it's all I got." She folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the kitchen counter. "We'll figger it out, I promise."
"People always break their promises."
"Not me."
Max smiled, and Cindy returned the gesture, tender affection sparkling in each of their eyes. Things might be different, but at least that had stayed the same. At least they were still together, something which couldn't be said about the others to whom Max had gotten this close.
It was true that the men in her life never seemed to stick around, for one reason or another. But maybe, just maybe, the woman in her life actually would.
Anyway, before we begin, I'm going to extend one more warning to anyone and everyone reading. THIS IS SLASH. There is //no// sex because it isn't meant to be sexy and it isn't meant to be fluffy; it's about //emotional turmoil.// But it's still SLASH. So don't go complaining to me about it if you're a purist about your ship pref or slash offends you but you keep on reading anyway; I've warned you more than enough about the content.
Now, without further adieu...
*******
When was she ever going to learn?
The men in her life never stuck around, never gave her much beyond pain and saline, never afforded her the love and romance that all the sappy books and TV shows and kids on the street always talked about. It was true that she often scampered from love like a scared puppy, tail dragging between her legs, but even when she gathered the courage to stand her ground and keep from running, things still managed to go sour. She was now considering it quite possible that she was not meant to experience that most tender of emotions.
She lay on the couch in her apartment and watched Original Cindy move with ease through the kitchen, preparing her friend and roommate some good old-fashioned soul-warming chicken noodle soup. It had been difficult to secure, but one way or another the two of them had gotten their hands on it. Well, actually it was pretty much all Max, but OC was the one who had heard about its location through the grapevine. In any case, it would do her well to have some, depressive fog as she was in. Anything that seemed right and good was welcome at the moment.
Deep down, she knew that it wasn't Logan's fault. The only people at fault were those at Manticore; not surprising, considering that they had managed to screw things up for her innumerable times in the past. However, before recently, she had always been able to surmount whatever obstacles her creators had, inadvertently or otherwise, set in her path. It bothered her that this obstacle, this godforsaken virus, seemed utterly impossible to move around, and that it now not only threatened whatever romantic relationship she might have had with Logan, but their foundation of friendship as well. The tension had grown to be too much, and as sometimes happens, their frayed nerves transformed the both of them into temperamental children and a series of rather volatile fights had broken out between them. Now, the last vestige of their old relationship shattered, Max lay broken and wounded, trying without much avail to sort through her emotions.
Alec hadn't been much help. He had asked her what was wrong and when she had explained he made a wisecrack or two, apparently not understanding the import of her predicament. He had gotten the clue eventually and offered his sympathy, but it was too late by then. The "primitive defense mechanism" was back in place and she was running again, running away from the last closely regarded man in her life. Running back to the comforts of home, to the comforts of a reliable, bulletproof friendship that had stood the test of time better than most.
Her relationship with Cindy was the only one that had lasted, the only one that had ever offered her any bankable amount of support and consistency. Cindy was the only one who had always been there, who had remained by Max's side no matter what the quandary, who always had something helpful and worthwhile to say. She was the only one who was truly //there,// and Max thought it quite reasonable to believe that her dear friend would always be there. In a world like this, where hearts are broken as effortlessly as the sun rises, one cannot ask for much more than that. In such a sense, she considered herself very lucky, and was grateful that she had found someone like Cindy.
"One hot bowl o' chicken noodle soup comin' atcha," OC quipped as she settled opposite Max on the coffee table. Max smiled and pulled herself up into a half-sitting position, her back pressed firmly against the arm of the couch.
"Thanks," she replied meekly. She took the bowl into her hands and sipped at it gingerly, the heat of the broth stinging the roof of her mouth but delighting her tongue and pleasantly warming her throat as it went down. She closed her eyes and savored the taste, one that she hadn't experienced in years, and she heard her roommate chuckle slightly.
"That bad, huh?"
Max grinned. "Worst I ever had."
"Well, Original Cindy and the kitchen ain't never get along too well," joked Cindy. The playful expression on her face then swiftly faded, replaced with one of concern and empathy. "How ya holdin' out?"
Max sighed, her vision falling to a random spot on her stomach as the soup was lowered to her lap. "I could be a hell of a lot better," she confessed. "He always said we could get through no matter what came at us, but..." She sighed again as she closed her eyes and leaned her head back. "I think it's really over this time, Cindy. We're just...we're not //good// for each other anymore."
"Now, you just sayin' that cuz ya had a bad fight, that's all," Original Cindy explained, her voice soft and compassionate, as always. "You two'll work things out and get it back togetha like ya always do, and everything'll be just fine."
"No, Cindy, not this time," Max insisted. She had never so staunchly opposed Cindy's understated wisdom, but then, she had never been so sure of herself. "We can't go on like this. There doesn't look to be any hope for a cure and it's too difficult for either of us to even be in the same room as each other. I mean, it drives me crazy, seeing him and knowing that I want him and he wants me but we can't do a goddamn thing about it. Do you have any idea what that's like, to have something you want right there in front of you, but no matter what you do, you can never have it? We're just torturing ourselves by seeing each other like this. So either the virus is gone tomorrow or our relationship's gone, and I think you know the odds as well as I do."
Cindy fell silent and hung her head, knowing that, for once, Max was justified in losing hope. Truth be told, she had lost much of her faith in her friend's star-crossed relationship over the past few months, but she cared deeply for Max and the last thing she wanted was to see the girl washed out and devoid of hope. Her sunny optimism also afforded that she be somewhat in denial of the stark reality of the situation, desperately looking for the light at the end of this apparently endless tunnel. Unfortunately, things don't always work out the way one might like them to, and at this point it seemed that the best course of action was to accept such a truth as quickly as possible in order to avoid more pain and heartache.
She reached forward and gently removed the bowl of the soup from her dejected friend's hands, setting it off to the side. "I'm sorry, boo," she whispered as she leaned forward and embraced the girl, clasping Max's head tightly to her shoulder. It was then that, for the first time, Max truly allowed herself to cry, letting out stream after stream of tears, each droplet representing a facet of the frustration and longing and confusion and heartache that had plagued her for nearly a year. She allowed herself to get lost in her emotions and in the warmth and safety of her dearest companion's arms, releasing what she had kept buried inside for far too long.
"It's gonna be aiight," Cindy murmured, rubbing Max's back. "Ya gonna get through this. Maybe not with him, but mah girl is tough and I know, in the end, you gonna get out intact." She pulled back slightly and caught Max's eye, instinctively brushing a stray lock of hair behind the girl's ear. "Just cuz it may be over between you two don' mean your life's over, or that there ain't somebody else out there for ya. You jus' keep your head up, okay?"
Max smiled slightly and nodded, then had to avert her eyes from Cindy's, suddenly overwhelmed by an odd suggestion that had entered her mind. By "somebody else," her friend had meant some other guy, not...
"Ya hear me, boo? Pull that chin up," said OC, interrupting Max's thoughts. Slightly startled, the X-5's eyes zipped back around to meet those of her roommate's, growing wide from the sudden and unexpected intensity of the contact. Here was someone who had barely ever made a move to leave her, even at Max's admission about her true identity. Here was someone who genuinely cared, who had no ulterior motive, who knew exactly when to be playful and when to be serious, who was understanding, slow to anger and full of what appeared to be unconditional love. Had her final blow-out with Logan really rendered her so confused and, for lack of a better term, messed up, or was she just now legitimately recognizing something that she should have seen a long time ago?
"I..." she began, bewildered by her emotional state, uncertain over how she should proceed. Cindy cocked an eyebrow, visibly perplexed by the change in her friend's demeanor, and Max found herself awash in a familiar brand of internal conflict. It was probably just her emotional turmoil that was placing these thoughts into her head, probably just her wounds aching for any sort of comfort that might present itself, rational or otherwise. But what if this was the relationship on which she was supposed to be concentrating? What if this was where she could find the love for which she secretly longed? What if she had simply been denying it, had simply overlooked it because something had always been in the way, had always been telling her that it wasn't right? Just what if?
Nothing ever worked out with the men in her life. Zack had sacrificed himself for her, his utterly unworthy little sister, and she had given him up like the rotten fool that she was, taking more guilt upon her shoulders than with which she could properly deal. The virus had come between she and Logan and now he was pushing her away. She was pushing back, of course, but he had promised to always be there, to never give up. What did those promises mean now? Nothing; he had stopped caring. And Alec, well, he was good for a laugh sometimes but she couldn't handle how he turned away from her and how he so often didn't know how to properly react to certain situations. She saw how he operated; he was much like she had once been, and she knew that if she got too close he'd scamper away, because that's what people like them do. They turn their backs and they //run.//
They had all let her down, or she had let them down, and they would continue to do so. But she had never felt like running from OC, and OC was always the one to hoist her up rather than drag her down. It seemed so painfully obvious now; she sincerely wondered why she had never before considered the possibility, had never before dared to remove the blinders from her eyes.
Chest heaving, heart pounding, and a streak of uncontrollable compulsion passing through her, Max leaned up and rapidly captured Cindy's lips in her own. Her arms remained at her sides and she dared not move, dared not breathe, dared only to retain the contact, to experience the unaccustomed texture and taste of her friend's lips. She wasn't quite sure what she was feeling, whether it was innately negative or positive; she only knew that it was a rush and that the number of thoughts that clambered for superiority within her battered mind were overwhelming.
A few seconds passed before Original Cindy realized what was happening and pulled away, her face plastered in shock. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out, and Max felt a cold panic sweep over her. The import of what she had done struck her hard and she thought she might start crying again.
"Oh...oh my god, I'm...I'm sorry," she stammered. "I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry." She sank back into the couch and tried to disappear into the cushions. She smeared her hands across her face, attempting to conceal the flush of red that she knew was presently spreading across her cheeks, attempting to conceal her humiliation. It was truly rotten what intense emotion could do to a person, and she was reminded then why she always struggled so hard to keep it hidden. It was to prevent herself from doing stupid things like this, from risking more than she could stand to lose.
Soft, gentle palms made contact with her wrists a few moments later, gingerly pulling them up and out, freeing Max's face from the confines of her hands. Eyes met, and Max was surprised to find that the chocolate pair that gazed into her own was filled with a compassionate sense of irony rather than with fear and disgust.
"Don' worry about it, your li'l head's jus' really screwed up right now," Cindy responded calmly. There was a hint of uncertainty in her voice, but it was nothing big, nothing over which it was worth to fall apart.
"Yeah, I guess." Max thought for a moment, deliberating over the events of the past few minutes and trying to discern how she really felt. The truth was that she couldn't, that she wasn't entirely sure, but that the small piece of a something that she thought she might feel for her best friend didn't seem to stem simply from her current emotional state. The deeper she looked, the more her newfound feelings made sense, and that both scared and excited her. "But...I don't know, Cindy. I just don't know."
OC sat back on the coffee table and leaned on her knees, sighing heavily and allowing her head to fall into her hands. "Well, if that wa'n't just you bein' confused, then...what're we supposed ta do, Max?"
"Don't know that, either." She sat up fully this time and faced Cindy, her knees brushing up against those of the other girl. The close proximity spurred Cindy to lift her head and once again make eye contact with her close friend, and the tension and confusion were so thick that, for an instant, she wanted nothing more than to get up and race from the building. Max didn't deserve that, though; she didn't deserve to lose another person about whom she cared. It might very well send her over the edge. So Cindy stayed, uncomfortable as she was, because since the two of them had met, she had always put Max first and that wasn't going to change now.
And that said something, didn't it? She didn't treat most of her friends the way in which she treated Max. This girl was special to her; she knew it, everyone else knew it, and apparently Max knew it, as well. Was that why Max had acted in such a manner? Was she so distraught by what had gone on that she was now looking for any opportunity? A part of Cindy wanted to pursue what the kiss might have meant, but she was a rational individual and rationally, she didn't want to risk losing a very good friend on the off-chance that this was the result of pure emotional calamity.
"Max...look, we jus' gotta wait this out. You prolly don' even know what ya doin' right now."
The pleading look on Max's face was almost more than Cindy could bear. "I...I think I might..." She leaned forward cautiously and pressed her forehead against her roommate's, testing out the sensation, analyzing whatever feelings that coursed through her at that moment. She closed her eyes in concentration and it wasn't long before they were kissing again, this time with slightly more confidence, exploring but taking great care not to go too far. When they broke away, they looked upon each other with a strange, burgeoning awe, and each had to work hard to settle her heartbeat. For all they knew, it might simply have been their closeness as friends that evoked such feelings, but the thought that it might be something more was sufficiently thrilling for them each to hope.
An eternity seemed spent on staring at one another before Cindy bowed her head and moved away. "Uh...your soup's gettin' cold," she mumbled as she stood and backed away, fidgeting quite noticeably.
"Oh...yeah..." said Max as she reached for the forgotten bowl, hunching over with a sudden bout of insecurity as she brought it to her lips and took what was, so far, only her second sip. Cindy went and busied herself in the kitchen, washing the pot in which she had cooked the soup with unusual vigor. A brand of silence that they had never before experienced when with each other fell over them, bringing painfully to light what each of them had feared about entertaining the idea of a possible deepening of their relationship. Things would likely get back to "normal" in a few hours but each knew that, deep down, everything had changed. Whether such was for better or for worse remained to be seen.
"Cindy?" Max began after she had downed most of her soup.
"Yeah?" Original Cindy replied quietly.
"What happens now?"
Cindy paused for a moment. "Whateva's supposed ta happen, I guess."
Max chuckled dryly. "I don't like that answer."
"Me neither," Cindy admitted. "But it's all I got." She folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the kitchen counter. "We'll figger it out, I promise."
"People always break their promises."
"Not me."
Max smiled, and Cindy returned the gesture, tender affection sparkling in each of their eyes. Things might be different, but at least that had stayed the same. At least they were still together, something which couldn't be said about the others to whom Max had gotten this close.
It was true that the men in her life never seemed to stick around, for one reason or another. But maybe, just maybe, the woman in her life actually would.