On Friday nights, Maz's mother holed herself up in her bedroom. Maz never offered any hint of what she might be doing, and Guy chose not to ask. The overall impression, though, was that on Fridays the outside world and Maz's mother were firmly separated by her bedroom door, and she could not be compelled to break this barrier for any force on Heaven or Earth.
Maz was supposed to join her in exile, apparently, but if she noticed Maz and Guy knocking around the apartment and speaking at normal, conversational levels, she didn't seem to mind, or at least didn't say anything.
That was a common theme with Maz's mother, noticing but not saying anything.
Guy still was sure to leave before she emerged from hiding, because the noticing was enough for him.
The day of the week weighed on both of them, even as Maz spoke animatedly about almost nothing and they tried to play violent, naturally loud video games as quietly as possible. A lot had happened on past Fridays, escalating and becoming habitual, until Maz sighing and absently running a hand through Guy's hair was a cue for him to get up and let Maz pull him into his lap.
Settled, Guy buried his face into Maz's neck, letting out a ragged sigh when he felt Maz unlock his wheelchair underneath them. Maz ghosted kisses where he could reach, comforting peace offerings, while he wheeled them to his room.
Maz locked the door behind them as a barely-necessary secondary defense. Guy hopped onto his bed and curled up near the headboard. Maz's room was a strange hodge-podge of posters and religious icons, memorabilia and good luck charms. Maz's mother was never particularly religious or superstitious before, but her change in belief was understandable. Maz accepted it without protest, and Guy without ridicule and almost too much guilt to bear.
He picked up a statue of the Virgin Mary while Maz hoisted himself onto the bed and pulled himself up next to him. He paused for a moment, joining Guy in looking down at the serene little plastic woman Maz's mother apparently hoped would miraculously give Maz his ability to walk back, and then worked it out of Guy's hands, placing it back on his nightstand.
Maz tossed off his shirt. Guy stayed curled where he was, still looking in the space where the statue had been in his hands. There were so many scars lashed across Maz's torso that Guy blamed himself for, and combined with Maz's bloodless, useless legs twisted next to his own sturdy, destructive feet, it was too much for Guy to see at once.
Guy knew Maz didn't mean to be cruel, but it still felt like a punishment. He accepted it quietly.
Maz pulled him down, then, so they were lying together. Maz's arms were strong, and he could manhandle Guy rather easily when Guy let him, which he always did.
He slid his hands under Guy's layers of clothing, pulling him closer but not trying to take anything off. Guy had plenty of scars too, and no one deserved to see them but him.
Guy ran his hands through Maz's hair to avoid all the scarred skin and memories, staring at the wall behind them.
"Guy?"
He felt his eyes snap back to focus. Maz sounded worried, cautious, and he was frowning. His hands were massaging the small of his back, but it did nothing to quell the fear that sank into his stomach.
"Remember that one doctor my mom told you about? The miracle worker dude?"
Guy nodded. He was losing focus again, staring at the wall and letting any expression slip from his face.
"We've been on the waiting list for a while, and, uh, I finally got an appointment. We're leaving tomorrow." He didn't have to say to where, because Guy knew. It was far. Very far.
Guy didn't smile. He didn't do anything but ask, "How long?"
"I don't know. A while."
There were so many implications in that that Guy's carefully expressionless face twisted just slightly. Maz's mom had been muttering about leaving Megadale before the accident, and now there were so many demons crawling around the place it was like they were trying to shove her out, and Maz with her.
They both knew how likely it was that Maz would never come back.
Guy's fingers twisted in Maz's hair, gripping and yanking. Maz wanted to leave too. Guy wasn't enough. He hated it here and he wanted to leave too.
Maz accepted his punishment and Guy let go when his eyes started to tear. Maz started tracing the lines of Guy's face with his fingers, like he was trying to memorize everything he could with his hands, like he had been blinded instead of paralyzed by Guy's failure to protect him.
Maz wanted to leave too, and Guy didn't beg, didn't ask. He hadn't asked for anything in a long time, especially from Maz.
"You and Kel both have keys if you guys need somewhere to go," Maz offered, and Guy nodded once. Maz's hands slid back under his clothes. Until they decided to settle somewhere and send for their belongings, if they left anything of value. Until paying rent became useless because they were never coming back.
Maz's mouth and hands softened him, relaxed his tense muscles, made him feel like less of a useless corpse.
But Maz wanted to leave, and now he was finally getting his chance.
x
He heard them clearly before he even got close to the house.
"Droosha, they're your children. I know it's been hard for you three, but you need to take control—"
"I know, but—"
"I don't think you know. He shouldn't be out this late. What do you think he's doing? Do you want another grandkid? Or a drug addict, or whatever he's doing?"
Guy's mother opened her mouth to speak, but Guy shouldered through them as quickly as possible. Charlie grabbed him before he could get far.
"Where have you been?"
Guy twisted out of his grip and didn't answer. His mother didn't say anything at all, as expected.
Charlie was her third boyfriend since Guy's dad died, and he was just like the other two. Droosha seemed to have a penchant for the type, or perhaps adult men nowadays just naturally reacted to a pair of sixteen-year-olds like him and Kelly with a sudden and awkward paternal streak.
He didn't chase Guy, though, which was more leeway than the other two had usually given. He just went back to berating Droosha, who took it with a quiet acceptance. Over the years, the main theme with the Hamdons had become "quiet acceptance," and every outsider merely perpetuated the feeling, sank into it and got sick on it.
When Guy got to his room, he knocked without trying the knob. Kelly liked to lock herself in there most of the time, when she wasn't in the she-lair. "It's me, Kel."
Her opening the door for him seemed like an afterthought as she was walking by, bouncing the baby on her hip as well as she could as he fussed and grabbed at her. The second he spotted Guy, he squealed and started reaching out for him. Kelly rolled her eyes.
As she passed the baby over to him, Kelly looked him over, eventually giving him a small smirk. "How's Maz?"
Guy paused. She seemed like she was even more tired than usual, but still in a good mood, and he wasn't sure if she'd be able to make him feel better.
"Leaving."
Kelly sighed. But she smiled like she'd been expecting it, because she had, they both had, and said, "I told you. You're the only good man left in the world."
"Hey!" Guy hugged his nephew a bit closer to him, and Kelly laughed.
"I said man, not baby. There are plenty of babies with a lot of potential."
Guy was about to respond, already feeling a little better, when he felt his She-S-P go off and had to pass his nephew back over to Kelly. He cried out at the sudden disappearance of his uncle, but as soon as he'd transformed Kelly turned him back around and he cooed.
"Eeee!" was about as close to "Shezow" as he'd gotten so far, and it was enough for Guy. He smiled at him and leaned down, kissing his forehead. He felt everything in him tugging him away, but he took the time to pause and wipe the bit of lipstick he'd left off with his thumb. Kelly took the opportunity to put a hand on his shoulder.
"You okay?"
"Me?" He dodged the baby's grabbing hands, and Kelly adjusted him so he was a bit more tightly held.
"Yeah, you."
"Yeah, of course." He smiled at her, and it didn't feel real on his face. "We're always okay."