Note: I've been debating uploading this for about four months… it's a little… iffy, for me, I suppose. Definitely something I'll be going back to smooth out the ending later. It's nothing but mushed up puppy love served in a bowl. Maybe a glass, if you prefer. It also holds a punch line I'm not sure I executed to my best abilities. But that's what opinions are for, right?
I'll think you're the most amazing person in the world if you review.
Revised May 28, 2015.
Summary: Words never said are sometimes the most heard, and private matters can't always help but become public affairs.
Pairing: MaxxMariam. How could I resist yet again? I guess I've had this couple on my mind an awful lot. And I get my inspiration to write after the most romantic class of them all… Data Management! Nothing says love quite like multiplying matrices….
Disclaimer: I do not own Beyblade.
Between The Lines
"This… this is nice."
The moment the words left his mouth, Max cringed at how awkward they sounded. His brain was just refusing to work with him today, buzzing loudly between his ears and making his face burn with redemption. His gaze fell to his glass of coke, stirring the contents dumbly hoping his company wouldn't notice his painstaking embarrassment.
But, of course, she had and he could feel her eyes ripping through the space between them and bearing into him with pure incredulity. "Right," she agreed, sarcasm lacing her words, "I forgot how much I enjoyed waiting for meals in silence."
He laughed, forcing the sound out of his throat as if he was gagging. The blond ducked his head down; visibly shrinking as he guiltily sipped some of his pop through the straw. He couldn't quite bring his eyes away from the liquid, knowing she was still watching him with an undefined expression.
"Maybe I shouldn't have come."
Max choked, sputtering as he pounded his chest in a sad attempt to redirect the swallowed beverage. "S-sorry…," he apologized between hacking, taking the time to note his face felt even warmer than before.
He heard a familiar dissatisfied grunt from a table over, shuffling their newspaper before returning to pretending to reading it once again. Max squirmed, his coughing had died down and he was left to stare at his company across the table.
She was smirking, leaving him dumbfounded with whether that was a good sign or not, to that day he had yet to figure that out. Her hands were intertwined under her chin, elbows propped up on the table against all etiquette; and for the life of her, he didn't think she really cared.
"Mariam, I am… I'm really happy you're here." The blond smiled sheepishly, drawing blind lines in the condensation of his glass. "I guess I'm just at a loss of what to say."
"That's to be expected."
"I saved your letter…," Max murmured shyly, causing the newspaper from the table over to crinkle. Only deciding to glance over in the general direction, he continued sincerely, "I was really surprised you wrote me, I didn't think… I didn't think I'd ever get to talk to you again." He swallowed a lump that unknowingly gathered in his throat. "It's been four years."
"To tell you the truth, I almost didn't write at all." Her expression creased as she looked away from the boy. Her attention was directed outside the large window they were seated beside; the traffic outside whizzing by as the world inside seemed to be sitting at a still. "I didn't think we ended on the best of terms."
Max shook his head in protest, completely against her last statement. "Are you kidding me? You let me keep Draciel. You were the very first Saint Shield that understood what we were saying all along. That meant a lot to me Mariam, it still means a lot to me."
The loud clang of a glass hitting the table top caught both of their attention, causing Max to once again shrink away and Mariam to roll her eyes in blatant annoyance.
"Draciel was never mine to take in the first place," the blue haired girl retorted, shrugging off his words with slight frustration. Twisting her body so that she could check over her shoulder, she let out a deep breath. "Where is our waitress, Canada?"
Max chuckled, somewhat dismayed by her downtrodden attitude. "It is just over the border," he pointed out, smiling to ease her thoughts, "But I don't mind, she can take as long as she wants. It gives us more time to talk."
Mariam eyed him warily, finding that he was relaxing just as she was beginning to wind up. "You don't care at all that I just left without saying goodbye?" she asked; deciding on her own that he must've, it would have destroyed his idea of them being friends.
He leaned back in the booth, stretching his arms out so that they hung off the sides casually. "You said hello, Mariam. That means so much more than goodbye, that's what matters."
The blue haired girl snorted, making Max raise his eyebrows with surprise. "Wow." She smirked. "That was… pretty bad. You can say the corniest things."
He pouted, ignoring another clang of a glass and crinkle of the newspaper, tilting his head slightly in a sheepish manner. "I was being sincere…. In a million years I never expected to get something from you. I… I wish I could've wrote you back."
She gave him a funny look, seeing as she was right in front of him; she couldn't understand why he wanted to write her. "Go ahead," she finally told him, knowing the return address she put on her envelop was incorrect and didn't actually go anywhere. Mariam pushed a napkin toward him, shrugging at the situation.
Max accepted the gift, dragging it toward him with his fingertips. "The Saint Shields must be pretty secret, I went to Mr. Dickenson a while ago to try and… well, find you, and they never could access any information."
"It's a discrete area," Mariam agreed, letting her arms fall to the table top gently. Her bracelets chimed against the surface, bringing Max out of his stupor to study her. "Nothing like it is here though."
"You mean noisy?" The blond grinned, watching from the corner of his eye as more traffic whizzed by. "You've been travelling a lot, right? You told me it started a bit of an upset in your village."
She hummed in acknowledgement, she had written that in her letter. She had written a lot of things that just escaped through her pen to reach him without a second thought. "It's kind of like a black hole, wanting to suck up everything in its path. It's not against the law to leave… just looked down upon."
"A culture sort of thing?"
"I guess you could say that. Nothing quite meets the standard of New York though," Mariam stated, conviction in her gaze that made Max nod. "I think it's because it was the first place outside of my home I ever went to. I don't know what it is about it here, I just… I really love it."
"I know what you mean. Although I miss the guys when I'm here, it's still my home. Nothing can change that," Max said with a wan smile, he grabbed a blue crayon from the kid's cup at their table directing his attention at the napkin. "I met a beautiful girl here once, in New York, I mean."
She gave him a dubious look, rolling her eyes playfully at his turn of conversation. "Really?" she wondered, glancing at the table over only to be glared at menacingly. Mariam stifled her laughter, re-crossing her legs underneath the table. "And what was that like?"
"Hard to describe. Since the day I met her everything she does just… sits in my head. I could tell you what happened, but never quite describe it. She's like a whirlwind."
"So she disrupted your world?"
"To this very day," he explained earnestly, his eyes gentle as they traced her expression. She was watching him curiously, finding him shy and daring at the exact same time. "I could honestly care less; a little wind never hurt anybody."
Max grinned, passing a note across the table before grabbing another napkin and placing it in front of him. Skeptically, Mariam lifted up the message as she leaned forward, reading the messy letters that were etched out in haste. There were only four simple words, loosely written in a flirty manner.
You blow me away.
She smirked, folding the letter aside as she gave him a levelled stare. "Are you serious?" Mariam asked skeptically, making him smile goofily from where he was seated. "You're so weird."
"Thanks." Max drummed his fingers against the padding of the booth, looking at her curiously with amusement. "How about you? Have you met any interesting guys while you were here?"
"Not really." She shrugged, watching his face fall in disappointment. She leaned into the palm of her hand, scanning the room for their waitress once again. "Except for this one boy…."
"Oh?" Max brightened up.
"He was kind of a dork though," the blue haired girl reasoned, "Kind of off beat. He enjoyed dancing down alleyways in public."
Grimacing at the thought, the blond barely acknowledged the statement. He gave a slight grunt, sliding off his spot on the booth to position himself against the table. Pulling a thin smile, he nodded softly toward the ice cubes that floated in his drink.
"The kind of dorky that grew on you…," she continued gently, easing him back to her attention. "It was endearing as frustrating as it was at the same time. Stuff you were against started to grow on you."
"Did he start to grow on you too…?" Max murmured the question gently, barely passing his lips as if he never wanted it to escape. Everything about him seemed so hopeful at the moment, his eyes wide and cautious as they followed her gaze.
"Well, I did write him a letter."
"I bet he's read it every day since he got it," Max retorted shyly, running a hand through his hair. "Dork's do that kind of thing. They also try to write responses… but, they never quite work out. They always end up long winded and awkward… jumping from thought to thought and maybe read between the lines too much."
Mariam wasn't too sure if she was comfortable with where this was going, his words were beginning to become hasty and jumbled as he tried to juggle the conversation with confidence. She found she could no longer return his gaze, turning away slowly and meeting another glare in the process. "If we have to wait another five minutes I'm going to complain…."
"Are there lines, Mariam?"
She nearly jumped as his skin grazed her own suddenly, his fingertips gently caressing the top of her hand before resting on top. He waited patiently for an answer, his determination not wavering, though his gaze moved back and forth between the table top and her. "Don't ask me that."
"Too late," he told her, moving himself against the table to lean toward her. The blue of his eyes were lit, lifting her hand up so he could grasp it with both of his hands, their elbows propped up on the table. "There are lines…?"
"Lay off."
His eyes narrowed in challenge, brushing her hand with his thumbs as he moved them, tracing her skin with bouncy nervousness. "I think there are some; you're just too scared to admit it."
"I think you're nuts." Mariam scowled, adverting his gaze as he pressed his lips against her wrist. It wasn't exactly a kiss, just a different sort of caress; she could feel the soft skin of his lips pressed playfully against her own skin, unmoving but distracting nonetheless. It caught the attention of others as well; a cold glare was being sent her way courtesy of the table over once again. This time, instead of being annoyed she felt oddly embarrassed. "We're in public, thanks."
"I'm starting to think you don't want to see me anymore…," he murmured around her wrist, noting that she hadn't pulled or pushed away quite yet.
"Funny, I'm starting to think that too."
"I don't know, Mariam…," Max said reluctantly, unknowingly tickling her skin as he spoke against it. "There has to be lines, I've gone through every word… every syllable…."
"Can you stop, please," the blue haired girl cut off his reasoning, smiling slightly as she backed away. Second guessing herself, she instead repositioned her hand against his upper arm, instantly making him move even further in her direction. "There can't be much in syllables."
"I like to think there's a reason we're both here right now," he decided lightly, rubbing the length of her forearm with a slight smile. "Don't you… feel something?"
"You're kind of touching me."
"I mean between us," Max rephrased, emphasizing his words with satisfaction. He appeared slightly crestfallen, his blue eyes reading into her reluctant expression. "I have so much I want to tell you, Mariam… but, I swear, the moment you're around I forget. Everything in my head just disappears and I can't focus… I'm too busy being worried over you; when you'll leave again, what you think about… if you ever feel the same way… about me."
She bit her lip at his intensity, her emerald gaze tracing the downturn of his slight pout. "I'm not really into mushy stuff," the blue haired girl stated finally, regretting the way his face fell further at the truth. "That's just not who I am."
"Right," he agreed softly, making her hand grip the sleeve of his arm. Mariam nearly rolled her eyes at her own behaviour, but decided against it in case Max got the wrong idea. She didn't want him to think she was ridiculing his free expression of feelings, she rather admired him for that ability, it allowed her to read him freely with confidence to know how to react.
"It is… sort of sweet, though… for you to say that…," she stumbled over her words, not used to admitting these thoughts. She wasn't nervous in the least, letting her hand trail away from his arm to link onto the collar of his shirt. She pulled him closer playfully, causing another outburst from the table over. This time they were choking on their drink in distaste, slamming the glass down as they sputtered. It didn't seem to faze Max as he complied with her action, leaning on his knees in the booth to be close to her. "Tell anyone I said that and I might have to kill you."
"We wouldn't want that, now would we?"
"I haven't quite decided yet."
He smiled slightly at her tact. "So… do I get a reward if I learn to keep my mouth shut?" the blond tried to ask casually, but Mariam caught how he subtly glimpsed at her lips hopefully.
She snorted. "In your dreams."
"Maybe." He felt blindly for the napkin he had grabbed earlier, pulling it closer as he scribbled down some words in blue once again. Max handed the second note to her, leaning in to nestle his nose against her ear.
I wanna take you out for dinner.
"Like a proper date… where when you order, the waiters actually bring you your food back," he murmured softly, his breath tickling her skin once again. This time, she leaned into the feeling, feeling his lips curve in approval against her.
"Sounds fancy."
He laughed sweetly, the low hum echoing in elation. She listened to his steady breathing, noticing how it faltered for a moment so he could take in a deep breath. Mariam took that second to turn her head, changing the angles suddenly on Max; he merely smiled before her lips brushed purposely against the side of his cheek, grazing his skin enough to make him blush.
"One condition." Mariam smirked and the blond could practically hear the taunt lacing her words eloquently. She had a bargain in her ready, Max could tell from the lines she was tracing slightly on his neck. Making a lazy circle, she beckoned playfully, "What do you say?"
"Sounds kind of risky," Max whispered back, their cheeks positioned against each other. She sighed lowly, and with a single finger, pushed his chin further toward her. His gaze seemed unfocused, watching from the corner of his eye numbly before she went back to drawing on his skin. "Who knows what you could ask for…?"
"I'll tell you what…," she drew her words out, pressing her lips further against his ear. Max's embarrassment took over, his head ducking down shyly at the forward touch. "You do me this one simple favour and we'll work out a daily reward system for you keeping your mouth shut."
"Deal. Name it."
His words had passed his mouth in haste, practically tumbling over each other to agree with what she had to offer. It made her smile how willing Max was to be close to her, bending over a table to be nestled against her in some odd display of public affection. It was almost enough for her to push away from him and give a smug look to the other person that bothered to stare her down in the restaurant. But she found she was rather happy with where she was, making loose shapes against Max, his warm skin radiating through where their skin grazed; the sound of his voice as he whispered back.
"You keep your Mom at home."