I remember when all the games began, every little lie, and every last goodbye. The promises you broke, words you choked on, I never walked away. Still a mystery to me, why I'm so empty. I'm better off without you, and you're better off without me.

five finger death punch (the bleeding)

...

Fang

Max seemed to curl into herself as Fang waited silently for her to start talking. Her eyes were lowered to the sandy bottom of the tunnel, and her fingers were clenched tightly into fists.

"My um... my mother started to do drugs 'cause my dad died. For the army, y'know. In... Vietnam." Max swallowed thickly, and with each word it seemed like the air was getting pushed out of her chest. "He was the one who taught me how to fight... but it was for self defence, you know, not... street fighting."

Fang's dark gaze remained locked on her sun-streaked hair. It was a horrible time to notice how beautiful she was, wasn't it?

"My mom didn't look after us. Even when Ari was born... she didn't seem to care, you know? Like we aren't even her children. Dylan- it was hardest on him. He was the oldest, and it was his responsibility to look after me. He wasn't ready for that- he was only ten. He didn't know what to do... So he got into the wrong crowd. Drinking, partying... and he messed around with the harmless drugs, you know, nothing serious. But he started disappearing more and more, and that's when I kind of realised I had to take responsibility."

"How old were you?" Fang asked, voice low.

Max frowned, still not meeting his gaze. Her white knuckles trembled slightly.

"Thirteen, maybe. Ari had only just been born."

Fang's jaw clenched. "So you were thirteen and dealing with a newborn baby?"

Max was silent, so Fang swallowed hard and changed the subject.

"So what about Sam?"

"Sam and I... we met when I was fifteen and he was sixteen. Almost three years ago now. He was perfect for my situation- we did so much stupid shit, and I guess it felt good. Y'know, to take our minds off of all the stuff going on in our lives. Sam... He was in a foster home, and his father hit him. He pounded on him since he was a little boy, every single day, and I just don't know why anyone would do that.

"Sam committed suicide because it was too much. I know I couldn't have lasted that long. He got drunk at lot, in the last few months, and I knew it was worse. He moved out into his own apartment when he was seventeen, but he still got nightmares. His foster father...ruined him. Ruined a beautiful human being. I hate him, for that."

Fang breathed shallowly, the hollow feeling in his chest aching numbly.

"I'm so..." he hesitated. "So fucking sorry for ever thinking that Sam was messed up, or not good enough, or... I'm just so sorry."

Max smiled sardonically.

"It's ok, I guess... I mean, he was messed up. I'm messed up. It's not bad if it's the truth, is it?"

"No Max, you're not..."

"I'm messed up, ok?! I'm... a fucking grenade. I'm broken, but it's ok. Alright?"

"You're not broken. You're just... a little cracked around the edges."

She laughed, but Fang heard the pain in her voice.

"Well... If I'm cracked, think of how many people are perfect. Smooth, flawless. If I'm 'not that bad', the children in Africa are only a little bit starving, right? Society is only a little bit warped?"

Fang sighed, frustrated.

"No, Max, what I'm trying to say is you're amazing, even with all you've been through. You're strong, so strong, to get through this. It's... It's horrible what you've had to go through. It's sick. But... You're better, now, though, alright? You have me. Ok? And plus- even if you are broken, all you need is a little bit of super glue."

She was so silent for so long that Fang thought she wasn't going to say anything at all. But she finally spoke, voice soft.

"And I guess you want to be my super glue?" There was hesitation in her voice, and mistrust, but Fang heard an ounce of hope and he suppressed a tiny smile.

"Well... You'll have Iggy, and Ari, and Ella, but yeah, I suppose I wouldn't mind being your super glue for now." Max smiled, a real, genuine smile for once, and Fang knew that he would be her super glue for as long as she wanted him to be.

She took a deep breath, and started talking again.

"I started street fighting when I was fifteen, to start paying the rent. I had a night waitressing job before that, but they fired me because of unemployment. I met Damon, my coach, when I was at the gym one day. I was practising what dad taught me, and he saw potential. He could tell I was short on money, and he made a deal I couldn't refuse. Street fight for him until I was eighteen... And he would pay me four hundred dollars for every fight I won." Max's voice steadied, and she lifted her gaze to meet mine, still smiling a little bit.

"I was determined to win every single fight I could... I trained, and trained, and I sucked at first, but I practised and I got better and it was like a drug and I couldn't stop. Sam hated it, Iggy hated it, Ari hated it. I know dad would've hated it. But... It was money, and it took my mind off of things for a few hours. I guess I needed that."

Fang thought if how Max had moved when he had snuck into that one fight. Smoothly, like a predator. He remembered how her lithe muscles shone through the darkness, and a brutal rage took over her face.

He remembered how she fought a bulky man who was probably twice her age- and Fang remembered how Max kicked the bulky man's face in.

"I do enjoy fighting, to be honest." Max's voice lowered, almost ashamed. "It's kind of a thrill, and it's so exhilarating, all the power... Jesus, I sound like a physco."

"It's ok," Fang smirked. "You kind of are, to be honest."

Max laughed, half-pouting.

"No, I'm not! I'm just a little cracked, is all..." She repeated his words teasingly.

He pulled her in for a hug, closing the small distance between them, wrapping his warm arms around her cold frame. He breathed into her neck, inhaling deeply and feeling the rise and fall of her chest. She stiffened at first, but then relaxed into his arms and sighed.

"Fang," she mumbled into his shoulder.

"Yes, Max?"

"I'm sorry about before... I'm just not ready yet." Fang gripped her tightly, thinking of how he wanted to kiss her so badly, just to stop the words from flowing out of her mouth.

"I know," he murmured back instead. "It's okay, Max. I'm your super glue... Not the other way around."

He didn't tell her how beautiful she was. He didn't smile at her and say, 'I understand'. He didn't tell her how good she smelled, or how much he wanted to take away her pain.

Maybe he should have.

...

Sorry it's kind of short... But at least I updated! And it was my birthday on Wednesday. So that's something. If anyone can guess how old I am, they get a chocolate cookie! Yay! Anyway. I hate school. So freaking much. SS

PS did anyone notice that little tfios reference I put in there? Y'know, 'I'm a grenade?' I just thought it fitted. Anyone else excited for the movie?