"But we're still tugging on each other
And tearing up the fraying loose ends."—Never Gonna Change, the Broods
Fang sat on the couch, his fingers tangled in his deep black hair while the breath in his lungs seemed to nearly solidify. Chill bumps covered his olive skin, adding to the emptiness inside of him.
No, this wasn't the right thing to do. How could he even think that? The two of them had been beyond the ends of the worlds and back, and they had gone through things no one else in their life could truly say they had lived through.
Yet here he was, doubting everything he thought he once knew.
He swallowed hard, and tears brimmed on the edge of his onyx eyes. That wasn't like him, in any way, but it was all he could find himself able to do. Who was there to talk to about this?
Iggy couldn't see yet, though it was a working process. After saving the world from Itex's By-Half Plan, the Flock settled with Dr. Martinez, and the wonderful woman worked together with a doctor friend of hers to fix his eyesight. So far so good, but he couldn't see the tears in Fang's eyes.
He didn't have to see them, though. All those years being the blind guy, Iggy's senses had developed further, so much further he had developed a sixth one—sensing the mood of the person next to him.
"You really should talk to her."
"How can I?" Fang tried to shake the thought out of his mind, but it had been there since he first thought about it. Hearing Iggy tell him the same thing didn't really help him make it go away either.
"With words."
Fang rolled his eyes while Iggy nearly cracked a smile; man, did he love teasing Fang. It never really seemed to push Fang's buttons, until it was the wrong time to say something. Like then, when Fang just needed comfort and a friend to help him sort out his thoughts.
Fang wasn't a man of many words, but that's what he had to do. Come up with many words to express everything churning in his stomach, everything tugging at his heart . . . he had to talk to her.
Who knows? Maybe he was just overreacting. I mean, maybe she was having a bad month, or maybe she was just bored. It had been almost a year since they settled down, and since the two of them opted out of school, Max never had anything to do anymore.
Iggy immediately sensed the teasing timing was off and switched into serious mode—something he had only ever done for Fang or Max. When they couldn't talk to each other, they talked to him. There were times Fang talked to him and Max, but Iggy didn't mind being the second option. Sometimes, he didn't really wanna know everything.
Iggy reached over and lightly punched Fang's arm. "Seriously, dude. You gotta talk to her. That's all there is to it. Just pour your heart out for once."
Of course Fang knew how to do that, but the idea of it made him cringe. Right now . . . pouring his heart out wasn't necessarily what was best. He didn't even think about things to himself because of how scared he was of the outcome.
But deep down, he knew. Things had changed. They had both just changed.
"How do you know when it's over?"
It wasn't necessarily something Fang meant to ask aloud, but he had, and there was no taking it back—especially since he asked Iggy. Iggy heard him. That was for damn sure.
Iggy already knew this was what was bothering him. Everyone knew it, even Max. She was at the same place he was, but she was much more comfortable admitting it than he was. She was in no hurry to say it to him, in no hurry to admit that the love she shared with her best friend had died . . . but it had.
Iggy cleared his throat and leaned forward, his ice blue eyes tight when he looked in the direction of Fang. "When you feel more in love with memories than the person you're with."
Fang's heart clenched tight. He didn't have to think about that response because he already knew. That was exactly how it was. For the past month, he had only kept quiet because of memories. Because every time he thought back on life, he realized that everything good that had happened to him happened with Max by his side.
Yet that was the past, all memories. In the present, things weren't so good. They fought constantly, and lately, Max had become distant. He was the one who never talked much, just listened, but every time they were in the same room as of late, the silence murdered him.
It was over . . . .
Fang couldn't accept that. He stood from the chair and marched right into Max's room. Really, he didn't have much of a plan, but he had to know.
He took her face in his hands and kissed her with an unbridled passion. She hadn't realized he was there until his lips met hers, and even though it broke her heart, she accepted it and met his vehemence. Both felt so many things for each other, good and bad, and everything came out.
But it wasn't enough. Passion, love, anger, fear . . . a wild fusion of emotions they both felt, none of that was enough.
The passion was more like desperation—they wanted to make things work.
The love was more of a memory—the past had been magical.
The anger was more like misery—this killed both of them to see that it was over.
The fear was just that—they had lived their entire lives side by side.
Max hated crying, but when Fang pulled away . . . she caught a glimpse of the tears on the edge of his eyes, ready to fall. She knew it was over; of course she had known. Deep down, she knew it was entirely her fault. She had changed. He had changed.
She messed up.
Fang hated to see Max cry, and he felt entirely too guilty. Why couldn't this work? She seemed just as desperate to make it work as he was . . . .
But she wasn't.
Max wiped the tears off her cheeks and purposely looked down at her feet. How could she tell him? Tell him of her ultimate betrayal? She hated herself for it, but it was uncontrollable. Unstoppable. Max knew she and Fang just weren't meant to be.
But that didn't make what she did right. She knew that, and she knew she didn't deserve him. He deserved someone to love him fully, to love him so much that they never did anything to hurt him.
Someone who wasn't her.
"Fang, I'm pregnant."
Okay, so, before you get angry with me, let me just promise you. I am beyond happy that Max and Fang ended up together in the actual book series (though I didn't actually read past Max due to the fact it felt like James Patterson was just putting books out). Nevertheless, I got this idea when listening to the song Never Gonna Change by the Broods, and what started out as a one-shot idea has turned into an idea for an entire story.
I love Fax. Really, I do, but when I'm writing, I sometimes like to make non Fax stories. Fang/OC. So, I do apologize if you can't read anything but Fax. Really, I'm not sure why you're here if that's the case because I did kinda warn you in the description.
Anyways...enough ranting. Mostly, I just want to say, I really hope you guys enjoy this story! I hated writing such a sad prologue, but in the end, I like how it turned out, I think.
I'm ranting again. But, I want you guys to enjoy this story. Really, I do. Let me know what you think in a review? It'd be greatly appreciated. :)
