AN: Don't you just freaking hate writer's block? Yeah, I have writer's block on most of my stories (the ones I haven't updated today) so I decided to start a new story. *facepalm* I was listening to Call Me When You're Sober by Evanescence so I decided to write my first AH. This most likely sucks, but I'm trying to keep my mind off my horrible, horrible writer's block. Probably a cliché too. This is inspired by the song, but it's not a songfic. I had just read a ton of AHs where Max had an abusive boyfriend or a boyfriend who got drunk a lot and then she meets Fang and they live happily ever after, blah, blah, blah. So I decided to change that around a little.

Ages: Max- 16, Fang- 16, Iggy- 16, Angel- 6, Gazzy- 8, Nudge- 14. Angel and Nudge aren't in the story yet. They'll probably come in the next chapter. Max and Iggy are twins.

Disclaimer: I don't own Maximum Ride. Why? Because I couldn't think of an idea that awesome.

Max's POV

The phone rang again. It was probably Fang wanting to apologize for what he had said to last night. I wanting to punch something, to break something, but I took a few calming breaths to relax myself. Breaking something wouldn't exactly be a good idea, especially considering my dad's…condition.

It happened like this every time. Fang would call me drunk, demanding sex or tell me how bad of a girlfriend I was. I would tell him that I was tired of putting up with his crap and hang up on him. Then he would call again, apologizing, and I would forgive him, hoping he would one day change back to the fun, loving, sober boyfriend he had been when we had first started going out.

I sighed and picked up my cell phone. I looked at the caller ID. I had been right, it was Fang. I flipped my cell phone open and held it to my ear.

"What is it, Fang?" I tried to make my voice as cold as possible, hoping that this time, I would be able to say goodbye to him once and for all.

"Max, I'm sorry. I really am. Please forgive me?" Fang pleaded with me. He sounded more rational now, completely unlike last night. I knew he was really trying. He never talked much, and when he did talk a lot, it was only for things of great importance.

"And why should I?"

"Because I love you, Max. I promise." Fang sounded sincere but I knew this whole thing would happen again sooner or later. Most likely sooner. But I loved him too. Or rather, I loved the old Fang, not the constantly drunk one that he was now. But I knew that he could go back to the old Fang if he tried. So I decided to forgive him.

"Fine, Fang," I sighed. Fang started to say something, but I cut him off. "But never call me when you're drunk again," I warned. I ended the call and flopped down on my bed. I knew this would most likely happen again, but I couldn't walk away from him. I was hoping against all hope that one day, he would call me when he was sober.

I lay on the bed and shut my eyes, wishing that I had never agreed to go out with Fang in the first place. But then, I would never have fallen in love for the first time. Fang's real name was Nick but no one ever called him that. He claimed that it made him sound wimpy. I had been excited when he had first asked me out. He was popular; he could have any girl he wanted. I was a tomboy who didn't give a damn about what anyone thought about her. Even though we were so different, we had been best friends since childhood. Our parents were friends, so we had ended up talking to each other a lot when our parents were having "a grown-up conversation". We were also next-door neighbors. We never really publicized our friendship—we hung out in very different groups—but we never exactly hid it either. I always thought we would be best friends forever. Many girls had called Fang "dark" and "mysterious". Nobody could really, truly read him except for me and vice versa.

But he had never expressed any romantic interest in me until the beginning of this school year when he asked me out. I had said no at first, not being a very social or romantic person, but he had pressed the issue, and eventually, I had said yes. He was an amazing boyfriend when he had first started going out, but about 3 months into the relationship, he started drinking. I never broke up with him because I thought he could change.

Apparently not.

Suddenly, somebody burst into my bedroom. The door was knocked against the wall with a loud bang. My brother James ran into my bedroom, smiling widely. His strawberry blonde hair was messy and his sightless blue eyes looked wild. This couldn't be good.

"What's up, Iggy?" Nobody ever called him James. He said that it made him sound like an old man who writes books and makes his fans unhappy for fun.

Iggy grinned, which was not a good sign. "I made a bomb…" He rubbed his hands together evilly. Iggy was our pyromaniac blind kid. How he made bombs without being able to see, nobody would ever know.

I looked at him warily. "Yes, Iggy?"

He began to open his mouth to speak but someone else ran into the room, interrupting him.

"Iggy! The bomb! It blew up!" My ten-year-old brother Gazzy yelled excitedly. His real name was Zane, but everyone who knew him called him Gazzy. Don't ask. Just stay far, far away from him after he has just eaten beans for dinner. Just do it. He was our second pyromaniac. It was so much fun living with two guys who liked to blow things up.

Iggy's eyes widened. "It actually worked?"

Gazzy nodded vigorously and grinned. "I pressed the button you told me to, and it blew up like boom!" He paused, trying to motion with his hands to make Iggy see how big the explosion was. He seemed to momentarily forget that Iggy was blind. "It was beautiful," Gazzy said. Iggy was such a bad influence.

"Come see!" Gazzy yelled, grabbing Iggy's hand and trying to drag him out the door. Iggy didn't let him drag him out though.

"Gazzy, I'll catch up to you later. I need to talk to Max," he said it casually, but I knew something was up.

Gazzy walked out of my bedroom reluctantly. As soon as the door closed behind him, Iggy turned to me. He raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms over his chest.

"I heard you talking to Fang on the phone. When the hell are you going to break up with him?" Because he couldn't see, his other senses were better than other people's, which explained why he heard me. He glared at me, but I glared right back. Iggy knew about Fang's drinking habits. Fang had actually come to my house drunk once. Only once, but I'd rather not repeat the experience. Luckily, only Iggy had been home. He'd never liked Fang much—even though we were the same age, he was still a protective brother—but now he was positively disgusted with him. He'd been trying to get me to break up with him ever since.

"I'm gonna wait a little while," I said, daring Iggy to argue with me. Iggy knew not to mess with me. I wasn't exactly someone who took crap from other people. Well, except Fang, I guess.

"Max, people do things that they'll later regret when they're drunk. I don't want you to get hurt."

I glared at him. Fang hadn't done anything bad to me physically. Not yet, anyway. "Don't baby me. I can make my own decisions."

Iggy sighed. "Max, I know you're waiting for him to change back, but face it…he's an alcoholic. He's going to do something to you one of these days. I just know it."

I got up from the bed. Why the hell was Iggy telling me what to do? We were the same age! He wasn't my mother! "Don't freaking tell me what to do," I said venomously.

With those parting words, I stalked out of my bedroom, down the stairs and out my front door, slamming it behind me. I took a few calming breaths. I loved Fang. And that was what mattered.

I walked aimlessly around my neighborhood, not really caring where my feet took me. Apparently, they liked the park because I ended up there. The sun was shining down brightly and there were lots of couples walking around hand in hand, looking happy. Didn't they know that love would only cause pain? I sat down on a park bench, watching happy people frolic around. Okay, maybe not frolic, but it sure seemed like it. I pulled my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around my legs. I placed my chin on my knees and just started off into space.

I saw a boy standing in the shadows of a tree. He had slightly long-ish dark blonde hair that reached into his eyes and incredibly tanned skin. He was wearing a short-sleeved shirt that showed off his tanned arms. He looked bored and had his arms against his chest, leaning against the tree. He was looking around the park, as if he was looking for someone or something.

Suddenly, his eyes met mine. His eyes were a beautiful, twinkling turquoise. I could lose myself in their depth. They were framed by incredibly long lashes. My breathing quickened. They were…captivating.

I was shaken out of my reverie by a tap on my shoulder. I turned around and saw Fang looking at me apologetically. I soon found myself getting lost in another pair of beautiful, captivating eyes. Fang's eyes were a deep, midnight black. I couldn't tell where the iris ended and the pupil started. They held just the right amount of mystery to them.

Fang had his hands shoved into the pockets of his black hoodie. He looked like he had sobered up considerably. His dark eyes looked downcast, and I wanted to brighten them up. It was an instinct—he had been my best friend for so long. His black hair hung into his eyes.

"Hey, Max," he said quietly, not knowing if I had really forgiven him or not.

"Fang," I said, nodding, giving him permission to sit down next to me on the bench.

"Look, Max, I'm sorry. I promise I didn't mean those things I said to you." He sounded sincere, but was he really?

"Don't do it again," I said simply.

He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and wherever his hand made contact with my skin, the skin felt tingly. In fact, I felt tingly all over. At moments like these, it was no wonder I loved Fang.

I couldn't resist laying my head on his shoulder, reveling in his warmth and breathing in the smell of him. I forgot all about the boy I had seen earlier with the beautiful turquoise eyes. I forgot about all the things Fang had said to me when he was drunk. I forgot about how Iggy had told me to break up with Fang.

I forgot about the fact that Fang would inevitably call me when he was drunk again.

AN: Probably not very good. R & R anyway? Hopefully, I'll get cured of my Everything-I-write-will-be-crap-itis sometime soon. Haha, thanks, UNDERLANDERfromtheOVERLAND, for coming up with that name.