Untethered
Bliss
Max had been poring over his notes for hours and Mariam was starting to get concerned.
It wasn't unusual for Max to spend extra time studying when he had exams coming up. His course load was demanding, same as his previous two years of school, and there was a lot of material he had to retain. That wasn't what bothered her. It was more so the increasingly frantic undercurrent of tension she could sense every time he turned a page. It practically radiated off of him.
Mariam looked up from the never-ending list of scientific terms she was writing flash cards for. She fixed Max with a curious look from across the coffee table. He was surrounded by textbooks and to-go containers, and there was a half empty can of something highly caffeinated to his right.
He didn't normally do his schoolwork in the living room, but when Mariam had ordered them dinner he'd decided to keep her company while she waited for it. His anxiety over looming finals had gotten the better of him before long, and he'd started studying right where he was. Then he just never stopped. His dinner was cold now.
As Mariam watched, he rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes so hard that he had to be seeing stars, before going right back to his current study guide. She got the impression that if the couch wasn't boxing him in he would have collapsed backward by now.
Stifling a yawn, Mariam sat up from her slouched position and stretched until her shoulders popped. Even though she'd stolen a cushion to sit on, her butt was numb and her back was sore. When Max didn't move, she shifted her leg slightly so it brushed against his own.
His only response was to sigh and pull away tiredly. Mariam furrowed her brow. If she didn't know he was head over heels for her, she'd think he found her presence annoying.
"Maybe we should take a break," she suggested, eyeing him warily.
The city lights reflecting off the snow outside made it seem brighter than it was, but that didn't change the fact that the sun had set ages ago.
Max grunted in response. He didn't otherwise acknowledge that she'd spoken, instead taking a swig of his energy drink and letting his head fall forward into his hands. He'd been on the same page for longer than usual. They were definitely due for a break.
Mariam raised her eyebrows. "Max," she cajoled, "you're going to give yourself a migraine." Her head was swimming and she was only copying definitions.
"I'm fine," he said, clutching a fistful of his own hair in a white-knuckled grip.
She wasn't convinced. "I really think you should stop and get some rest," she said adamantly. The way he was tensing more and more with every word she said made her frown. "You have a test tomorrow and I –."
Max dropped his hands down on the table in front of him, effectively cutting her off when they hit louder than she expected.
"You think I don't realize that?!" he asked with an incredulous look. "I'm not staying up all night cramming for my health!"
There was a deafening silence following his outburst. She must have touched a nerve.
"Obviously," Mariam replied after a beat, rolling her eyes. "You'll pass out before you learn anything new at this rate."
Any other day Max would have recognize her sardonic reply as the concern it masked. Unfortunately, with the circumstances being what they were, he was too high strung to do so this time. The tension in the room dialed up a notch as Max bristled.
"Just because this all goes over your head doesn't mean it's going over mine!" he argued, gesturing at the books and notes scattered over the table and the surrounding area. It looked like someone had broken in and ransacked the place. "If it's so headache-inducing to you, you don't have to help!"
Mariam bit her tongue to keep from cursing. Max was letting his stress do the talking, but it was hard not to take the bait when she hadn't even been in the country long enough to get a decent night's sleep. She took a deep breath, ignoring the throbbing vein in her temple.
"You really need to shut up and go to sleep, Max."
It wasn't the most tactful reply – she could tell by the look on his face and how good it had felt to spit those words at him – and she instantly regretted it. She didn't want to argue. Even the permanent hand cramp she had from notating dozens of index cards was preferable.
For once, Max wasn't on the same page.
"And you really need to shut up and stop assuming you know what I need! I get that from my mother all the time – I don't need it from you too!" he yelled, throwing his hands up in disgust. "I'm doing fine!"
The comparison to Judy made Mariam's blood boil. She didn't spend the better part of a day on an airplane breathing recirculated air for him to fly off the handle when she tried to do him a favor. So if he was yelling, she'd yell back.
"No, Max, you're not! You're on the verge of a mental breakdown!"
"I wonder whose fault that is!" he shouted, staring pointedly at her.
"That's real sweet," Mariam snarled. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared. She didn't remember standing up, but she was on her feet and so was he. "It almost seemed like you were trying to insult me. Next time be more direct about it – you know how things go OVER MY HEAD!"
She drove her point home by stomping one foot into the ground. Without shoes on it didn't do much besides make her foot hurt and piss off the downstairs neighbors (if the sudden beating from below was any indication), but she wasn't about to back down.
"Leave me alone if all you're gonna do is complain!" he said shrilly, as if she was the one being unreasonable. "You're stressing me out!"
His hands were in his hair again and Mariam's blood was rushing in her ears.
How dare he suggest she was to blame when everything she'd done since landing at the airport had been aimed at making his life easier. She hadn't flown in to spend her nights losing sleep and watching Max dig himself an early grave.
"This doesn't have anything to do with me! You're stressing yourself out by going over and over the material until you can't think straight!" she cried, digging her nails into her arms to keep herself from grabbing him and shaking him to rattle some sense loose. "How exactly is that supposed to help?"
Max scoffed. "Well if you weren't distracting me –"
"Oh, you mean by making sure you eat and writing out your stupid flash cards for you?" She uncrossed her arms to pick up and brandish a stack of the aforementioned cards. She was so mad she was shaking. "You're unbelievable, Max!"
"You have no idea what it's like!" Max rounded the table to loom over her, pointing one accusatory finger at her face. "You didn't go to college – you don't know what it's like to have your whole future depend on a passing grade!"
She smacked his finger away, absolutely livid. "I didn't realize you were the only person on the planet who's ever been stressed out before!" she mocked, moving in close enough that she could see the storm clouding his eyes. "That's unfair, Max!"
"You're being unfair!" he rebuffed, throwing his hands up in exasperation and taking a step back. "You just don't understand."
His voice wavered on the last sentence and she entertained a brief, sick satisfaction that she was making him feel as bad as he was making her feel. Nevertheless, she pinched the bridge of her nose and willed the malice from her mind.
"Maybe not, but I'm trying to help you," she implored, dropping her hand from her face.
She got no joy out of watching him crumble under pressure. She'd been doing her best to make things as easy for him as she could, bending over backwards for the honor of being labeled a distraction in the heat of the moment. He had to know it took a toll on her too. In any other frame of mind, he'd know.
She cared about him too much to take pleasure in his stress.
"Well, you're just making everything worse!"
Mariam's heart sank. In the new silence she could hear the neighbors complaining from next door. She took a shaky breath.
"Then why am I even here?" she asked hollowly. Her jaw was set in warning, eyes frosty.
Max didn't notice, too wrapped up in his own misery.
"Don't look at me – I didn't ask you to come at the worst possible time!" he shouted. Venomously, he delivered one final blow: "I'm starting to wish you'd never come at all!"
Mariam balked at his words, reeling back. Her brows knit together in both confusion and anger.
He looked angry, too. She half expected his face to shift into a horrified expression when he realized what had come out of his mouth. So far he was holding steady, meeting her glare with his own, cheeks flushed.
Mariam looked away, heart pounding in time with the flow of her emotions. She had the strong urge to leave before she said or heard something even more regrettable. The apartment was suffocating and felt smaller than usual when filled with so much animosity. She needed solitude.
With a sinking feeling she realized there was nowhere to go. There was no hotel room to hide in and ignore his calls. No back alley exit she could exploit to avoid him lurking in the lobby. Unless she took the fire escape, but that felt dramatic. Besides, all of her things were here.
She clenched her jaw.
Usually Max's home was her home. Usually it felt like a safe, peaceful space. Right now that wasn't the case, but the thought of taking refuge anywhere else made her gut churn.
What was the point of her fight or flight kicking in when, for the sake of salvaging their relationship, she could do neither?
There was pounding on the walls coming from all sides now.
She made up her mind.
"Find someone else to be your emotional punching bag," she spat, sparing him a glance and throwing his flash cards aside. She felt another hot lance of satisfaction at how his face cycled through half a dozen different emotions when they scattered all over the floor. "I'm done."
He was between her and the rest of the apartment, so she shoved him out of the way and brushed past. He grabbed her arm in an attempt to stop her, and her rage surged. She didn't look for remorse on his face – she didn't look at him at all – and wrenched her arm free with a twist of her wrist.
"Don't touch me," she snarled in his general direction, still refusing to make eye contact. If he looked mad she knew she'd argue more, and if he seemed sorry she'd still argue more because she wasn't in the mood to forgive him.
Max didn't try to stop her this time and she retreated to the spare bedroom, slamming the door behind her. She locked it for good measure.
For a while she paced the room, replaying the argument in her head and fighting back tears. She wasn't going to cry over something so stupid, even if Max losing his temper was a rarity. He was stressed. She knew that and argued back anyway.
But he didn't need to chew her out in the first place, talking down to her like she was a child who didn't have the first clue about his adult problems. It made her want to smash something.
She paced some more, keeping one ear out for Max's footsteps in the hallway and hearing nothing.
"Good," she grumbled to herself. She felt anything but.
When the thumping of her heart and the thumping on the walls from their disgruntled neighbors had dulled down, she collapsed face forward onto the bed. With all of her bluster gone, she was tired and more miserable than she was ready to admit about how their disagreement had played out.
She groaned and hid her head under a pillow. Eventually, she drifted off to sleep.
Maybe when she woke up she would be able to think more clearly.
Mariam awoke disoriented, with a foggy feeling in her head and a dull ache throbbing behind her eyes.
She groaned and stretched under the covers, faltering when she found that Max's half of the bed was empty. It seemed strange until she recognized the guest room sheets. It all came back to her in a rush after that: Max's stress, her jet lag, their explosive argument, and storming away in a huff afterwards.
Guilt furled sourly in her stomach. They hadn't even been fighting about anything tangible, just taking out their frustration unnecessarily on one another.
Uncharacteristically, Max had been the first one to lose his temper. The pressure of finals had built until he couldn't keep a lid on it any longer. She was far from blameless herself, fighting back because she was tired and hurt by words she knew he couldn't mean. It wasn't her proudest moment.
And to make matters worse, somewhere in the midst she'd broken the golden rule and gone to bed angry.
Mariam knew she wouldn't sleep again, laying there lost in thought, despite her bone-deep fatigue. She shoved the covers aside, sat up, and let one leg dangle out of bed.
Her feet were bare and she was still wearing her day clothes. There hadn't been anything different for her to put on in the guest room and she vividly remembered recoiling at the idea of crossing the hallway to change in his room. She hadn't wanted to be anywhere near him.
Max had offered her the guest room closet or even a dresser of her own when she first started leaving things behind between visits. She had declined, making something up about costing him more money or valuable storage space.
In reality, she liked the soft look he got on his face when he opened a drawer and saw their clothes mingling together too much to even consider it. That, and the way he stopped and stared in the middle of getting dressed when she joined him halfway through, or how easy it was to borrow his clothes instead of wearing her own.
Those moments were a stark contrast to the debacle from earlier.
She sighed in frustration.
The only light in the room came from the alarm clock on the bedside table broadcasting the time: 2:06. It was a testament to her jet lag that she had no idea if it meant in the morning or the afternoon, but the world felt nighttime-quiet around her.
Minutes trickled by and she only felt more and more awake. With another sigh, she stood up.
She didn't know how to fix things with Max. She couldn't tell if she wanted to offer an apology or demand one. But anything was better than waiting in suspense at this point. And maybe they'd both be in a better mood if she was in one of his t-shirts instead of the itchy wool sweater she'd been wearing all day to combat the record-breaking New York chill.
Quietly, she opened the bedroom door. The apartment was dark, except for a small pool of light coming from the living room. Max was either still up studying, or had fallen asleep among his books.
Mariam was secretly relieved for the excuse to not interact just yet. She tiptoed across the hall and into Max's empty bedroom. It was obvious that he hadn't been in bed yet that night, and part of her felt sympathy while another wanted to scold him. She was in a complicated place.
Shaking her head to clear it, she changed into one of his old t-shirts and a pair of sweatpants. It didn't take nearly long enough.
She scanned the room, looking for any distraction. She wasn't good at this part. It made her feel vulnerable. Like the first time they'd held hands in public, it was a declaration of her feelings to some, and an invitation to exploit them to others. She knew what category Max fell into, but old habits die hard.
If he'd wanted to apologize, he would have by now, a traitorous voice in the back of her mind whispered.
The more reasonable side of her realized that she had literally locked him out.
If she kept this up, they'd both be awake to see the sunrise.
Mariam swore under her breath. There was nothing else for it. Snatching an extra blanket off the bed, she headed to the living room.
What she found wasn't what she'd expected.
Max was sitting slouched in the armchair, staring off into space. He had changed into his pajamas at some point, but the dark circles under his eyes proved his night had been sleepless since their fight. His flash cards were still strewn across the floor where she'd left them and the rest of his school things remained untouched.
She took a deep breath in preparation, but before she could speak his gaze locked on hers. The magnitude of it made her freeze. He didn't look angry anymore and his eyes were rimmed in red.
"Mariam…" His voice was raw as he hurried to his feet. Her expression must have looked guarded, because he didn't come any closer.
Looking at him, she wanted nothing more than to hold him and forget everything, but she knew that wouldn't truly fix it. She cleared her throat and held the blanket up. "I thought you might've fallen asleep," she said, keeping her tone carefully flat.
Max was wringing his hands together and she suspected he would reach for her if he didn't keep up the motion.
"I couldn't," he said. "Not with how…" His teeth worried his bottom lip as silence stretched between them. Then, quietly, he said, "I'm glad you stayed."
Mariam shrugged. "Where else was I supposed to go?" It came out sounding harsher than she intended, and she instantly regretted it when he winced and shrank back.
In that moment, he was more himself than he'd been since he got home that afternoon. Her remaining anger gave way to more guilt. The last thing she wanted to do was give him any reason, accidental or otherwise, to think that she was going to pack her bags and disappear into the night.
With a sigh, she came fully into the room, tossing the blanket on the couch as she passed, and stopped in front of Max.
Looking at him now, she wanted to kiss the frown off his lips and touch him until every whisper of tension in his body evaporated. But they needed to talk. She compromised by reaching up to cup his jaw and running her thumb over the spot where he'd chewed his lip raw.
His eyes fluttered shut as he melted into her touch, his relief palpable.
A knot of regret made Mariam's chest tight. He let her have her space and take the time she needed even when it kept him up all night fretting.
She rested her other hand on the back of his neck and gave a gentle tug, testing the waters.
He fell into her arms immediately, snaking his own around her as tightly as he could. "I'm so sorry, Mariam," he murmured, burying his face against her neck. His breath hitched like he was trying not to cry. Knowing the stress he'd been under, he probably was. "I didn't mean any of what I said."
Mariam tangled one hand in his hair and massaged his scalp gently, wishing she could take some of the weight off of his shoulders. "You were right, though – I don't know what it's like." It was easier getting the words out without having to look him in the eye, cocooned together in the dark.
Max pulled back and looked at her with emotion-filled eyes. So much for easier. She could read him, even in the darkness. He had the same face he always had on when he refused to find a fault in her, except more tired.
"No, I wasn't." He shook his head and squeezed her waist where his arms lingered. "You don't have to be in school to know what it's like to feel overwhelmed. You've been supporting me every step of the way, through the jet lag or from the other side of the world when you can't be here in person."
One corner of his lips lifted in a lopsided, apologetic smile. His eyes kept in steady contact with hers.
"You didn't deserve me taking everything out on you. You definitely didn't deserve the comparison to my mom. I'm sorry."
Mariam considered her next words carefully, only a little distracted by his thumb rubbing circles into the small of her back.
"Thanks, Max," she murmured, letting her eyes drop to trace the fraying collar of his t-shirt. She'd worn it once and remembered his lips kissing a pattern along the tattered edge. She fought the desire to return the favor and stay grounded in the moment.
It felt good to hear Max apologize – his words soothed wounds that had cut deeper than she realized. But she wasn't the only one owed an apology. He'd shouldered too much of the blame alone in the early hours of the morning already.
"I'm sorry, too," she sighed. "I should have walked away sooner."
He looked like he was going to interrupt, but refrained when she gave him a look.
"I knew you didn't mean what you were saying, but I let it get to me and fought back anyway."
Max took a deep breath.
"I don't blame you," he admitted, taking her hand and lacing their fingers together. Lifting it to his mouth, he kissed her knuckles in a tender apology. His eyes found hers and they were full of regret. "What I said about things going over your head –" He paused to collect himself, on the brink of tears again. "You're smarter than me most of the time."
"Max…" Mariam trailed off when he adjusted his hold on her hand so he could kiss each of her fingertips individually. Suddenly her heart was in her throat.
"I told you I wished you'd never came and that couldn't be farther from the truth." He held her hand against his chest where she could feel his heart beating fast and made eye contact once more. "I always want you here. If it were up to me, you'd never leave," he assured her. "I'm upset because I don't have as much time to spend with you as I want with school and it's not fair that you've been having to help me study and –"
Mariam stopped his tirade with a kiss, sweet and full of promise. She sucked gently on his lip where he'd bitten it, but pulled back teasingly when he tried to deepen it. "You're rambling, Max," she whispered against his lips, before kissing him another time for good measure.
"Sorry," he replied, just as quietly the moment their lips parted. He didn't sound as self-deprecating as before – they were getting back on track.
She pulled him into another hug and rested her head on his shoulder. The surge of emotion she felt when he kissed the top of her head made her breath hitch, and she could tell he noticed. She tightened her hold on him so he wouldn't let go.
"I'm sorry you had to deal with my ugly side," she whispered, trusting him to read between the lines and give her the final bit of reassurance she needed.
Max chuckled. "I've never seen an ugly side of you, Mariam," he replied, smiling into her scalp. Message received. Then, more serious, he said, "I'm sorry for how I treated you. You deserve better and I won't let it happen again." He kissed her head again, sealing in the promise. "Can you forgive me?"
Mariam's heart fluttered. "I guess so," she teased, unable to help but smile herself as she relaxed fully into his embrace.
The air felt clear at last.
"Is this the part where we kiss and make up?" Max asked cheekily. He swayed back and forth, moving her with him. He was too awake for this early in the morning now that they were back on solid ground.
She rolled her eyes halfheartedly, even though he couldn't see her face. "I'm pretty sure I already gave you a kiss."
"What if I want more?"
He was only joking, but Mariam snorted. "I think we've pissed off the neighbors enough for one day," she said, pulling back so he could see her smirk.
Max looked puzzled for a moment before it clicked and a blush spread over his cheeks. "That's not what I meant!" he laughed, letting his forehead fall against hers. His hands sneaked up her shirt and were warm on her lower back. "Do you forgive me though?" He was smiling, but there was a searching look in his eyes.
With a pensive look, she tucked a lock of hair behind his ear and grinned when he shivered. She spent a few more precious seconds contemplating him and the way his gaze became lidded when her hand curled around the back of his neck.
Wordlessly, she closed the meager distance between them and pressed their lips together. He exhaled and any remaining tension drifted away. She tilted his head to claim his mouth deeper and he was completely pliant in her hands, parting his lips before she even asked permission.
He pulled her flush against him at the same time she pressed as close as she could. She was on her tiptoes, but it didn't feel like a strain with his arms taut around her. With an appreciative moan, she skimmed her free hand over his bicep; a brief detour before she wrapped both arms around his neck.
They hadn't shared a kiss with such raw unfiltered feeling behind it since her last visit, but now the frenetic energy that had been plaguing Max had given way to something familiar and welcoming.
She wanted closer.
He must have read her mind, because one of his hands traveled down over her hip to tug her thigh upward. It was all too easy to wrap it around his waist and wish it wasn't so cold that she'd needed to wear pants. Now that they weren't arguing, she wouldn't mind the feeling of his skin on hers.
With that thought at the forefront of her mind, she broke the kiss. It took a few minutes for her to stop indulging him in quick, teasing kisses long enough to get any words out.
"Consider yourself forgiven," she murmured breathlessly. His nose was against her cheek and his lips rested at the corner of her own. She felt him smile, and closed her eyes. "Will you come to bed?"
Max hoisted her up into his hold fully and that was all the answer she needed.
A/N: I wasn't lying when I said I don't like writing arguments. Two in a row was a challenge.
While I was racking my brain for ideas to fill in between the others I have planned, RedWheeler mentioned how the first argument in the apartment would be awkward because there's nowhere to run. And this chapter was born. Pretty pleased with it. I'm gonna do my best to bring back some fluff the next time around, though!
Huge thank you to everyone for reading! :)