Seeing Max's life packed into boxes scattered throughout the room stops Warren's heart as if it's been clenched into his fist. There's too much finality in seeing her clothes, posters, and papers packed neatly into boxes and shoved aside. This is real and in one day, she will be sleeping in another state, far out of his reach. What happens if she has a nightmare? If she wakes up and can't remember what day it is? If she breaks down crying and he's not there? It's ridiculous and he knows it. Her parents are far better support than he could be and she's the strongest person he knows. She doesn't need him. But it doesn't make him feel any better about it.
He helps her tape boxes, focusing far too much on how straight the tape is, which way the flaps are folded. It's only when the tape bunches together and he's somehow got the sleeve of his shirt tangled in it, that he realizes he's crying. He's an idiot, he's such an idiot, but he clears his throat and pulls himself together before she turns to face him, her eyebrows scrunched in worry.
"I'm going to visit every weekend," he promises, and he hates how raspy his voice sounds. "We'll have road trips and I'll even go retro and write you letters. It'll be like an adventure."
"Every weekend is stretching it, isn't it?" she asks and he can't help but smile because he'd been holding this in for so long. He has no idea where he and Max will end up, if she'll be fed up with him by next autumn. But he'll be in Seattle either way and he'll let her take what she could from that.
"I got into University of Washington. Full ride. So it'll be like I'm down the street."
Her reaction is so sudden that it catches him off guard. She squeals and launches herself upon him and he stumbles over a box and takes her down with him. Her laughter is warm against his face and he can feel it flush against his skin. Over twenty billion seconds have passed since he's heard this laugh, a laugh as light as the sheet of paper he's knocked into the air. He can't help but to grasp her chin and pull her face even closer. "Hey," he whispers, "you are the most amazing and bravest person I know." Later, when he will backtrack this moment, when he will cringe and slap himself for being so corny, he will remember her own blush settled against her cheeks, the way she sucks at her bottom lip to hold herself together. It's exactly the words she needs to hear and before she can thank him, his lips are against hers.
He can feel her gasp of surprise and then she relaxes into him, her hands soft against the back of his neck, her heart thudding rapidly beside his.
He's completely lost, he knows this, but he wouldn't have it any other way.