a/n: canon divergent fic of all the shit that goes down in texas, mostly inspired by my innate frustration at the writers for depriving us of the angsty scenario of lucas and maya not speaking to each other. this oneshot is like 85% angst 10% humor 5% fluff, aka the holy trinity of anything i write. if you like it, please please please leave reviews/fave/follow, because this is the first fic i've written in a few years, so i literally have no idea if it's good or not. also, the story summary is from the next chapter, which i've already written and will post in the next few days (this is going to be a threeshot). title is from the song align by nina nesbitt.

"If you do this, I will never speak to you again."

Maya's words hang in the air, her warning palpable enough to cause Lucas' jaw to drop slightly as he takes her in. She's being selfish, she knows this, but she doesn't have Riley's blind faith or Farkle's steady trust or Zay's unwavering propensity for making light of any situation. She doesn't have it in her to watch him walk out that tent and pretend that any of this is okay with her.

She also knows there's a risk when it comes to a threat like this, knows that there is a very real chance that Lucas is willing to call her bluff if it means he can gain the approval of his grandfather and community, and the others know it too, if Riley's wide eyed stare, Farkle's sharp intake of breath, and Zay's muttered "Oh boy," are any indication. But it barely registers in Maya's mind as her eyes lock with his, and she wonders if he knows what she's really trying to say.

Please don't do this.

You don't need to prove anything to me.

If you get hurt, I don't know what I'm going to do.

It doesn't take long for her to realize that it's a risk he's willing to take, and she feels the crack in her heart grow a little bigger. Riley's words and Lucas' words and his grandfather's words are all a blur as she shakily swallows the lump in her throat, juts her chin out.

"I'll never speak to you again." Maya repeats, more firmly this time. If she says it enough times, maybe she'll believe it's something she's capable of.

Other than a half hearted call of her name, he doesn't try and fight her as she storms out of the tent, boots stomping over the freshly cut grass as she seeks to get as far away from him as possible. She can feel her heart pounding in her chest as she tries to swallow down her disappointment when he doesn't chase after her like some sort of tragic Western movie, reasons with herself that maybe he just doesn't care as much as she does. She's always known that hope is for suckers, anyway.

Maya wonders if maybe she's a masochist, because she ends up watching him ride the stupid bull anyway. Of course, a combination of her pride (she was not going to give everyone else the satisfaction of abandoning her convictions that quickly) and a fear of her own unpredictability should he get hurt means that she watches from afar on a ledge, boots pathetically digging into the dirt as she fiddles with her ring, plays with her hair, punctures the skin of her fingers with her teeth as she nervously chews up each and every one of her nails that Riley had so delicately painted for her on the train.

When the horn finally blares to signal the start of Lucas' ride, her skin prickles with goosebumps. Each second he's on that bull is its own separate aeon; triggering an endless stream of possible outcomes in Maya's mind that are each more dire than the last. She takes a deep breath, and begins to count.

1.

Maybe Riley was right. Maybe he's got this. Maybe he'll be okay, and he'll break the record and restore his family's name in the community and she can swallow her pride and smile and call him Huckleberry again because their routine has become an intrinsic part of her, something she wakes up each morning looking forward to, and she doesn't think she has it in her to stay away from him even when he does infuriating things like giving her roses at school dances and riding bulls after she explicitly begs him not to.

2.

Maybe Riley was wrong. Maybe the fact that he's never ridden a real bull before means that he has no idea what he's doing. Maybe he won't be okay, and he'll hurt himself and she'll end up sitting beside him in the hospital, clutching his hand and praying to a God she's still not entirely sure she believes in that he'll wake up so that she can tease him about the Texan paintings hanging in the hospital cafeteria. Hell, she's praying now, because he was the one who showed her how to seek quiet moments and the silence is stretching around the space she's in, save for the pounding in her ears.

3.

She has never known fear like this; has never felt like her heart was jumping in her throat and out of her mouth and that the butterflies caged in her stomach were erupting and that her lungs were about to explode before. She knew she liked him; she had tried to fight it when she quickly realized Riley had a crush on him, but had finally let herself accept it the day he covered Farkle's mouth to stop him from embarrassing her, because that was the moment she had realized that someone who had only known her for a short time cared more about her than most of the kids in her class she had shared crayons with since kindergarten. And Maya wasn't used to being cared about.

But as she rises to her feet in morbid fascination to watch him ride the bull, she knows that the thunderstorm in her gut is deeper than some fleeting crush. She had never known it to be possible to break your own heart, but hers is a glass ornament that's slipped from her sleeve into the palm of her hand, and she's never been good at handling delicate things without shattering them.

4.

He's falling. His hands are losing their grip and the bull is bucking wilder and Maya knows he's about to fall. And she wonders: did she say the wrong thing? Was there some other combination of words she could've unlocked that he would've listened to? Because she can't think of a single thing that would be worth him never speaking to her again, if the threat had been reversed. But then again; he might say she looks good in Texas clothing and tell her that he wants her to be happy and secretly inform Zay that he thinks she's beautiful, but that doesn't mean she's not naive to think that any of that means he needs her the way she needs him.

When his body thuds harshly against the solid ground, Maya can only stand frozen as everybody else runs to him, heart rattling as she waits to see if he's okay. And he is. He gets up, pumping a fist in the air and celebrating with an undeniable grin plastered across his face. She releases the breath she's been holding for the past 4 excruciating seconds, but the fear inside her remains.

He might be okay, but she isn't.

Maya walks stiffly ahead of everyone else on the way back to the house, refusing to engage in the chatter going on behind her. She wants to be at home in New York, snuggled on the couch watching movies with her grandmother while she waits for her mother to get home from a long shift with the leftover sandwiches the diner didn't want to throw away. Or in Riley's bed, braiding each other's hair while laughing over ridiculous quizzes about what kind of fruits they are ("No, but you are a pomegranate, Maya," Riley would insist solemnly, eyes wide. "See, you're a forbidden fruit that's complicated to open up but when you do, it's rewarding." "That's deep, Riles." Maya would snort in response, but she'd indulge Riley anyway as the brunette looked up hidden meanings on pomegranates for forty five minutes.)

Or anywhere else that's as far away from Lucas and his inquisitive gaze on her back as possible.

"Maya," Riley says exasperatedly, quickening her pace to walk in stride with her best friend. It only takes her a couple of steps, and Maya curses the genes that left her with such short legs. "What's going on?"

"Nothing. So, he's alright?" Maya deflects after a beat of silence. Riley's happy go lucky, naive nature and the continued existence of the "Riley Committee" to protect her from the bad things in the world had lead people to think she's a ditzy airhead, but Maya knows her better than she knows herself. Riley is smarter than she lets on, and Maya's terrified that she will figure out what's going on before Maya can come up with a believable excuse.

"He was wonderful." Riley confirms, biting back a beam. "How are you?"

"I - I couldn't watch. I don't know why, I just... couldn't watch."

There's a beat of silence, and Maya can feel her heart slipping out of her fingers.

"I know why." Riley says quietly.

The glass shatters.

"Maya, I know you were worried about him. He's your friend, of course you were! You don't need to feel embarrassed about caring for your friends."

Maya lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding, realizing that Riley hasn't figured it out and that she's still safe from a conversation that she is nowhere near ready for. She glances up, meeting Riley's doe-eyed gaze, and softens.

"Yeah, I just... didn't want him to, you know, die or anything." She jokes, trying to swallow down the lump that is slowly rising in her throat. "I still have like, three years worth of Texas material to tease him about and I didn't want it to go to waste."

"Aww, peaches, look at you getting all soft!" Riley teases, linking her arm with Maya's. "So you'll talk to him again?"

"No." Part of it is because of her pride, the stubborn refusal to go back on something she had been so vocal about, but the other part, the dangerous part, is because now she knows how strongly she feels. Riley and Lucas have been stuck in some sort of unofficial relationship limbo for months now, but were yet to take that next step, and she wasn't sure if they were ever going to take that next step if she wasn't there as their #1 cheerleader, ready to push them together again when neither of them would take the initiative themselves.

She had always thought that what she felt for Lucas was just a crush, that it would go away once Josh deemed her old enough for him, or when she got to high school and met other boys with shiny eyes and shaggy hair, boys who wouldn't be afraid of her. But now she's terrified that if she really looks at him, talks to him, lets him in, she won't be able to step back again.

"Maya." Riley whines, dragging out the final syllable. "Don't be so stubborn."

"I told him, Riley, that I wouldn't talk to him if he did it. And I am a woman of my word." Maya jokes, placing her free hand over her heart. "What kind of person would I be if I just went back on my word, Riles? My integrity, my honor-"

"You are ridiculous." Riley laughs, the sound tinkling in the twilight air. "You'll probably last an hour. Maybe two, unless he does something to really rile you up."

"We'll see." Maya shrugs in response, knowing that it wasn't going to be that simple. If she doesn't talk to him, she doesn't have to think about what could happen if she tells him all the feelings she's been hiding for over a year.

Riley just laughs, linking her arm with Maya's, and Maya feels her heart ache as she looks up at her blissfully unaware best friend.

Riley, who is made up of stardust and sunshine and light, who brightens up the day of everyone she comes across and has boys like Charlie Gardner lined up waiting to see if she'll ever look at them the way she looks at Lucas. Riley who can make you feel like you're worth the entire world when she fixes her doe eyed gaze on you, Riley who doesn't have ivy growing and crawling and tightening around the chains on her heart.

Riley who doesn't destroy everything she tries to love.

I'm doing the right thing, Maya reminds herself, allowing herself a moment of selfishness as she sneaks a glance over her right shoulder at the 3 boys walking behind her. Farkle and Zay are perfecting their embellishment of the bull story for when they return to New York, Farkle staunchly trying to remind Zay that no, saying that Lucas rode two bulls at once is not realistic, are you kidding me while Zay loudly tries to argue his counter point, waving his arms in the air for emphasis. Lucas isn't partaking in their conversation, isn't saying anything at all as a matter of fact, his gaze still steady on her as he scuffs the dirt ground with his toe. He's looking at her like he's trying to figure her out, brows furrowed and jaw set, and Maya whips her head forward, face flushing slightly as she tries to ignore the feeling of his eyes on her back for the rest of the walk to his house. It's the right thing, she repeats in her head like a mantra, over and over and over again.

This is Riley's fairytale, after all. She's just the sidekick.