Part 1: Her Eyes
Chapter 1
2009
New Years' Eve - Maximum
I lay awake in my bed, covers over my head, my eyes completely shut. I'm pretty sure I've been like this the past couple hours, despite the hype of the upcoming new year and new decade. I couldn't sleep, couldn't move, couldn't do anything. Everything hurt, mentally, at least.
YO MAX! MAXIE! MAXIE-POO! MAXIE-PAD! ANSWER YO' PHONE! IT'S FANG! THE HOTTEST SEEMINGLY-EMO DUDE WHO MAX IS COMPLETELY UNDESERVING TO BE BEST FRIENDS WITH? YEAH, THAT ONE? PICK UP YO' PHONE, WOMAN!
Our shrieks of laughter followed, then finally it died down. There goes that ringtone. Again. With his voice. Again. Tell me again why I let him he set all my ringtones to play his voice? And you might ask, "Now, Max, why don't you just change your ringtone, silly?"
And I regret to inform you, that I've been asking myself the same question. But somehow, whenever I'm this close to pressing the confirm button, I never have to heart to do so.
Cue dramatic sigh.
Sometimes, I do feel like answering one of his phone calls just to say in an eerily calm voice, "You know people say promises are made to be kept. But I guess you wouldn't know that, Fang, now would you?" and just hang up right then and there.
Ugh. I turned my head into my pillow and groaned loudly. Then I heard my phone vibrate against the wooden nightstand. Forcing one of my arms out of the comforter, I felt around my nightstand for my phone. When I finally got a hold of it, I slid it open and read the text message:
Hey Max. Fang again. It's New Years' Eve here in six hours. Pick up your phone. Please? It's exactly twelve hours 'til 2010 there. Don't miss tradition, kay?
I hit the delete button as always and chucked my phone across the room. A common ritual these days. Something inside made me hold myself back and refuse to talk to him. It's been going on for almost two months now-officially in about twelve hours.
Though that would make my life even more of a soap opera, it's bad enough as it is. Which is definitely not okay.
Tired of lying around, Max decided to go downstairs around three to go get some food. She abruptly stood up, brushed off her jeans, turned off the light, and walked out of her empty room. After a few minutes, the cordless phone-one that had it's own personal number-in Max's nightstand started ringing. Eventually, it faded out.
"Max Martinez," Max's voicemail stated. "You know what to do."
"Hey, Max. It's me. Again," Fang's voice chimed. "So I called you on your cell, texted you, emailed you, and now I'm calling your cordle-" he went on. When he finally hung up, Max was still downstairs. She thought it would be best to stay there and try to enjoy herself. After all, it was almost a new decade. Besides, it's not like anything important was happening upstairs.
Hours passed and the number of voicemail messages on Max's phone rose. It rang exactly at four, again at five, then once more at six. But after seven o'clock hit, Fang called a total of five times, his last call and voicemail ending at 7:14 PM Eastern time. After that, he stopped calling altogether.
Max came back to her room half an hour later, rubbing her stomach satisfyingly. After eating a snack a few hours ago, she realized there was no point in sulking in her room and chose to stay downstairs to try to enjoy herself. However, she was unsuccessful and decided to come back to her room now. She glanced at her cordless phone for a second, but not minding the blinking number 09 indicating the unheard voicemail. But Max didn't seem to find an urgency to listen to them immediately. She decided to ignore them, as there wasn't anything that could not wait until tomorrow.
"HAPPY 2010!" I heard everyone from downstairs. Mom always loved hosting gatherings, especially during the New Year celebration. The ball just dropped and everyone was yelping in celebration, whipping out their horns and confetti. I wasn't really the party animal, so I opted to stay in my room to have an intense staredown with my phone. And let me tell you, eyeing a phone is not as fun as it sounds.
My phone sat there in silence for the past ten minutes. Already it was 12:10. Even then, I wasn't sure if I would pick up if it called. I would have to swallow a lot of pride for that to happen. Which was something that didn't happen too often.
1:00, the digital clock blinked. An hour's passed and still nothing. The music and laughter from downstairs died down about half an hour ago so my head was filled with thoughts again. So much for quiet. By now I decided I would pick up when he called. That is, if he did call. Which he was going to, of course.
Unless...this was going to be exactly like his birthday two months ago. I shook my head at that thought. No way was he going to bail again, he's the one who even reminded me about the tradition only hours ago! Fang was Fang, and unless something bad happened, there was no chance that he'd blow me off like this.
And that's when my stomach started to get this weird feeling. Something was definitely suspicious. I made one of my famous snap decisions and my hand started to reach for my phone. Gingerly, I slid it open and began typing in the phone number I knew all too well. And for some reason, my heart felt like jumping out of my chest once it started ringing endlessly.
But the feeling didn't stay there so long, as now my heart dropped like a stone the second I heard the automated message of Fang's voicemail.
Wow. After hundreds and hundreds of times he's tried to contact me, he doesn't pick up his freaking phone? Was this karma? Or did he just gave up? Was he giving me the silent treatment now? I scowled at the thoughts.
I glanced back at the clock: 2:11. Now I was mad. He was breaking tradition again! First his birthday...now New Year's Eve, too? I threw my phone across the room again as usual, but this time it was fueled with more anger and frustration.
But inside, way deep down inside, my gut was sick, feeling like it was completely twisted up. I couldn't put my finger on it. There was just something that wasn't right. Something happened. I could feel it.
Something was wrong.
Something was very, very wrong.
Part of me wanted to figure this out. But I realized it wouldn't do me any good, and decided to sleep on it, instead. I turned off my lampshade and settled into bed.
Yeah, like I got any sleep after that.
It was probably another hour or two when my mom busted down my bedroom door, phone in her hand, fighting back tears in her eyes.
I was betting my mom wasn't exactly here to ask if I wanted cookies.
A/N: So? What do you guys think? Review please! I've been working on this for a while now, I have a lot planned for this story, I got a chunk of it written down, a decent number of reviews and I'll post the next chapter up, okay? And don't worry about if I get writers' block for this story. I pretty much have it finished in my head. All it needs is to be written down. This story might become a trilogy. Or at the very least a sequel, I know that for sure. EEP, I'M SO EXCITED.
And if you haven't read my other story, be sure to! It's Fang's Point of View of the Angel Experiment. But I added my own spice to it by writing about him dreaming and memories from the past. I'm sure you'll like it :D Just check out my profile!
Thanks for all your support!