Merry Christmas and welcome back to Not So Little Moments!
It's been a while. I've been busy with school and have had a bit of difficulty writing Max, Lucas, and some other characters you'll see in this part. But I'm here, finally. And I can't wait to hear your thoughts about this chapter!
There is going to be a second chapter. You can expect Mileven and the gang indulging in more Holiday Traditions. Hopefully, this one won't take me ages to write (knock on wood.)
More of my thoughts will be shared at the end of this, so I won't make you wait any longer. But tread carefully! Themes of domestic abuse, racism, and a handful of others are depicted. If these topics are a trigger for you, I'd advise you to stop reading or take things slow if needed!
One-shot Title:
Baby It's Cold Outside, but... I've Got You
Characters/Ship:
Mike Wheeler, Eleven Hopper, Max Mayfield, Lucas Sinclair, Dustin Henderson, Will Byers, and the Sinclair clan/Lumax
AlternateSummary:
While most people spend Christmas with their family and friends, Max spends it alone.
Family? Susan still hasn't processed the fact that her husband hits her daughter now that Billy's dead. Hell would have to freeze over in order for her to EVER refer to Neil as her father.
Friends? El moved away with the Byers, Will left before they could connect, Mike is still the smuggest bastard she's ever met, Dustin is too much to handle even on a good day, and Lucas...
He can't know.
She cares too much to let him get sucked into her black hole.
Hawkins, Indiana
December 23, 1985
"Shit, shit, shit!"
Max scampered into her bedroom, her fingers lunging for the knob as she slammed the door shut. She heard him as he thundered down the hallway, but she didn't allow the sound to add to her pounding heart. Instead, she used it as fuel for her survival instinct, rushing over to the desktop stationed in the far side of the room. She wrenched the chair from its fixed position, dragging it from its cross rail while the backside faced her as she hurried back to the door.
She switched sides once she reached it, adjusting the chair's stance so its top rail could fit underneath the brass knob. Before she could double-check its hold, a muffled, inebriated voice addressed her through the door.
"Open the door, Maxine."
His words bled into the room in one sweep, their ice-cold wave sending chills up Max's spine as she staggered away. She kept moving until she reached the back of her room, turning her attention to the window as she began undoing the locks.
"I'm not mad. I just want to know why..."
The feigned softness in his voice only added to Max's frustration as she tried opening the foggy glass pane, her grip tightening around the bottom rail as she used what upper body strength she had to lift up the window. Despite her efforts, it didn't budge, and she cursed at the winter's frost, her words leaving in the form of a mumbled huff. Thoughts about what she could use to break the window entered her mind, and her narrowed gaze shot toward her closet. Specifically, the baseball bat sitting beside the duffel bag, which was also filled with the rest of her softball gear.
She crossed her room, snatching the bat from where the tip of its handle leaned against the drywall. Dashing back to the window, she raised her baseball bat just as Neil spoke up again.
"Whyis my bastard of a son six feet underground, and you're still here?"
Max halted her swing, her heart stopping right in sync with the bat in her grasp as it froze over her head. Her ocean irises went wide as they remained locked onto the window. But she was quick to regain her momentum, keeping tight reins on the tears as she readjusted her grip, the barrel of her bat easing back as it rested on her shoulder. Without even thinking about it, she swung hard at the center, producing a spiderwebbed crack in the glass.
It was as if the sound of her first swing opened the gates of Hell, because all of a sudden, her stepfather began pounding against the door. Each strike against her door was harder andlouder than the last, making her cringe with each bang as it shook through the house.
"Why are you so fucking set on disregarding everything I fucking tell you?!"
Again, his fists slammed against the only thing keeping Max from his wrath, and she could have reacted to the sound again. But she didn't, dismissing the legs of the chair as they began to scrape against the carpeted floor.
Neil was furious, but Max was that and more, her fingers tightening around the baseball bat's grip. She let out an ear-splitting scream as she swung again, shattering the window, the fragments exploding out and onto the side of the house. Everything else - however - was white noise, her ears burning as she turned to find Neil in her room, charging forward.
She swung for the third time, but he blocked the blow with his forearm and lunged forward, the back of his fist smashing against the side of her face. The shock of his strike left her disoriented, and she felt the bat slip from her grasp as he snatched it from her, chucking it far and away from what her fuzzy vision could see.
"That's for breaking the window. Now, come here."
Before Max could recover, she felt the harsh cold of his hand as it gripped at her wrist, its snug hold tightening around her skin as he dragged her away from her escape route. She growled, digging her sneakers into the fabric of the carpet as he tugged her forward, closer to her bedroom door. Her breathing stopped when she glanced through the threshold, meeting the wide eyes of her mother.
She just stood there, a timid expression on her face as she watched her so-called husband manhandle her daughter. All she ever did was observe or hide, never finding the courage to put up a fight. Just like when Billy was still alive, and Neil would pound on him. Max had hoped her mother would see the light once he died and that anger was transferred onto her. When she didn't, she couldn't bring herself to hate her mother for it. No matter how hard she tried, she always found herself understanding that fear. She sympathized with her mother, even though it clashed with her will to keep fighting, a desire that burned brighter than ever.
"Baby, maybe we should let her go," Susan chimed in from the doorway, barely meeting Neil's gaze as he stood before her. "She won't be leaving the state like last time. And I trust Karen to keep an eye-"
"Christmas is a familyholiday," was his gruff interjection, and she recoiled at his scowl, but not before consenting with a swift nod.
Just like that, his words snuffed out the flames of her will. However, they triggered the opposite in Max, igniting her sparks as she came up with a Plan B. She turned toward the hand wrapped around her lower arm, her glare burning holes through his exposed skin. His back faced her, and his hold on her wasn't as tight. Maybe she could- no. No maybes.
She had to act.
Without a second thought, she lunged forward and clenched her jaw around the base of his arm. Her sharp canines broke through the skin, drawing blood and producing a tumultuous yelp from Neil, who withdrew his hold on her in response.
Max didn't waste time once she was free, ignoring his roars and her mother's protests as she rushed back to her bedroom. She snatched her skateboard up from the floor, chucking it out the window before leaping through the frame. Her hand snagged against jagged shards of glass, and she registered those sharp pinpricks once she had alighted into the pounds of white. However, that sensation was overwhelmed by a severe drop in temperature, stimulating a wave of trembles throughout her body as she stumbled to her feet.
The bitter cold of the midwinter sliced at Max's face and bare fingers, but she kept up the pace, her teeth chattering with each shaky step as she hurried out into the open road. She let her board slip from her clenched grasp and land on the charcoal pavement before hopping on with one foot and pushing back with the other.
Soon she gained enough speed, widening the gap between herself and her living hell. She didn't dare stop, even as the street signs of her block blurred out of her line of sight. She couldn't stop, focusing everything she had on just the ride.
On getting away.
Halfway down the street, she jerked her board into the left lane. The concrete grated against the sole of her shoe as she turned on Liberty and Eastman. Pivoting her foot as she dug her toe into the asphalt, she pushed against the hard surface and propelled forward, letting the wind carry her while she zoomed down the deserted road.
...
Later, in the early afternoon….
...
If there was a word that could describe Lucas - just one trait from his disposition out of the dozens - it would be calm. He had his moments, sure. Instances where he struggled to keep himself composed, times where he just gave in to whatever emotion he was feeling. But for the most part, he kept himself relaxed, just like his father had taught him.
From a young age, he learned that people would criticize him for the melanin in his skin rather than the quality of his character. So, he held back when Troy insulted Will and tripped Mike. He kept a tight leash around that anger whenever he caught the occasional staring or side-eye in the halls of Hawkins High. However, as he stood in the Wheeler's basement, holding the handset against his ear while dialing Max's number for the third time, he felt himself lose control over the panic as it began to slip through his resolve. It took everything in him to just remain calm and confirm his worries before rushing out into the below zero weather. Which - according to the weather forecast - was only supposed to get colder once the sun set at six, and the cloudy grey sky would shift to midnight black.
She was late, which would have been fine if she had called to let him know she wouldn't be on time, or that she couldn't make it, like usual. But all he received from her was static, and a handful of Lucas' thoughts suggested she simply didn't want to come. It made sense to him at first, considering that they were no longer dating. However, once he took a moment to think about it, he remembered that she never let that stop her from hanging out with the rest of the Party. Besides, she loved a good hack and slash, so he knew she would never miss out on a campaign if she had any say in the matter.
"She was quiet..." a soft voice uttered from behind Lucas, and he turned to face his friends, who were huddled near the assembled DD table.
Four pairs of eyes were on him, but he could only focus on one, his russet irises meeting honey brown.
"Max was quiet," Eleven reiterated, her eyebrows clumping together as she fiddled with the baggy, linen sleeve of Mike's sweater, "When I brought up Christmas. Just like when we talked about Thanksgiving."
Lucas froze, ignoring the receiver in his grasp as its ringer chimed in his ear. A chill slithered up his spine as he recalled that Tuesday morning he, Dustin, and Mike had traveled up to Toledo for Thanksgiving. Max had called to cancel on them the night before, only stating she couldn't make the trip. He thought it was strange, but he didn't want to push her, so he let it slide. Even when she flashed him a plastic smile when they met up at school that following Monday morning, his gut told him that something wasn't right.
He should have listened to his instincts then. He should have pushed her when he had the chance. Avoiding those arguments - refusing to cross that line in an attempt to spare their relationship from unnecessary turmoil - seemed so pointless now when all that mattered was ensuring her safety.
The call picked up with a sharp click and rapid rustling, triggering Lucas out of his reverie. He immediately straightened his posture, his elbow bouncing off of the wooden pillar.
"Max! Are you okay?"
Silence greeted him in return, and he was about to repeat himself when Mrs. Hargrove answered back, her small voice confirming his worst fear, "She's not with you."
Lucas' blood ran cold, the dread washing over him in a nauseating wave, forcing his eyes to clamp shut.
Max wasn't home. She was out there, somewhere in the freezing cold and she wasn'tokay.
He took a deep breath, but Neil's booming voice disrupted his attempt to remain calm. His nostrils flared at the sound as it reverberated through the phone's speaker, followed by a shaky sigh.
"He's gonna take all night to cool off. Maxine's really pissed him off this time, so it's- it's better that she's not here," Mrs. Hargrove said, though it was more of a whisper to herself.
Lucas just stood there, glaring at nothing in particular, a clenched fist guarding his side. He couldn't fathom how the hell Max being missing out in the cold was better than staying at home.
"But she's alone, and the weather's not supposed to get any better."
A brief pause separated her words before she resumed, her tone earnest in place of its usual meek timbre, "You care about my daughter?"
The irritation melted from Lucas' features as he froze, his expression blank for a beat before his eyes reverted back to their constricted form. A spark ignited within his chest, fueling the fire that was his willpower.
"I do."
"And your friends?" She asked, prompting him to cast a sly glance over his shoulder.
Dustin was hunched forward, hands clasped together over a bouncing knee, sporting a frown akin to the way Eleven had her lips curved. She was still attached to Mike, her arm linked with his and her head resting right on top of his shoulder. His head was tilted to meet hers, obsidian curls mixing with chestnut. His eyebrows were scrunched together, deepening his pensive expression. Will's features were nearly identical to his as he sat across from them, his arms folded across his chest. Though, the difference was that his bottom lip had curled inward.
"We care." 'More than you do, evidently' was what Lucas wanted to add, but he didn't, knowing his remark wouldn't have had any effect on the predicament.
"Then I'm sure she's gonna be just fine," Mrs. Hargrove concluded, the callousness in her tone making Lucas feel like his stomach was being stretched and twisted out of shape.
In fact, he was so disgusted that he wasn't even concerned about the repercussions of his next choice of words or whether they helped the situation. He let them flood over the dam, along with whatever was left of his restraint.
"Max deserves better." He didn't bother waiting for another pointless reply, slamming the phone back into its cradle base.
In response, chair legs screeched and feet slapped against the basement floor, but Lucas kept his back turned, not wanting anyone to see his face until he had relaxed. He withdrew his hand from the phone's grip, pulling it back so it met with his other hand, both meeting to rest over his face. He took in a deep breath, his palms kneading into his mocha skin before elevating up to his hair. His fingers carding through tight, jet curls.
"What'd she say? Is Max okay?!"
Lucas released the breath he had held in at the sound of Dustin's raucous voice, the air leaving his lips in a long exhale.
Finally, he swiveled around, dragging his feet as he turned. He swallowed the lump in his throat when he came to a stop, sporting an expression that wasn't blank like the others he wore whenever he remained calm. No. He was an open book to the patient stares of his friends, the sight of his furrowed brows and pursed lips wordlessly confirming what they had all hoped to be false:
Max was in trouble.
"She ran away," Lucas trembled, a shaky exhale leaving his lips.
A moment of silence followed. To his surprise, Mike was the first one to break it with his assertion. As if what he was suggesting could be achieved with little difficulty.
"Then we find her before it gets dark."
Lucas rejected his suggestion by shaking his head, despite his impulse' to concede with the sentiment. "Yeah, but where? We don't know where she is."
"What about Paulie's?" Dustin tried, his whole, round face contorting into a hopeful expression.
"She could be hungry, and you can't resist his deep dish on an empty stomach! I know I wouldn't. His pizza's fucking God tier, man."
"Makes sense," Will nodded. "The only other place I can think of is the arcade, but it's gone."
Lucas inclined his head as well, halting halfway as his brain soaked up both ideas.
Max did love a good pizza, especially Paulie's, who she claimed on many occasions had tasted almost exactly like the pies she had eaten back in California. Yet the thought of her seeking shelter in the deserted premises of the arcade nagged at the back of his thoughts. He blinked, his expression wiped clean as his gaze lost its focus.
Palace Arcade was closed, the shell of its structure waiting to be refurbished into a fast food joint. Or perhaps another venue for geeks to convene and kill time surpassing the latest high score. Lucas had wondered what establishment it would be reshaped into and whether it would sell well over time. Max, on the other hand, never seemed to show any interest in those speculations. No, she cared more about the arcade's past, the ghosts reminding her of the way things used to be before Eleven and Will had moved away. Before her stepbrotherdied.
Lucas detested Billy more than anyone and anything in his life, even more than the Mind Flayer. But he struggled to hold onto to that hate after Starcourt - after Eleven shared how he had died once they all had regrouped. He protected her at the last second, absorbing a blow that was intended for her. It didn't erase any of the bad things he did, but it was a reminder that he was human despite them. Especially to Max, who felt his absence the most.
He was there for her whenever she needed to blow off some steam or just wanted to escape. He listened with a patient ear when she needed to vent, and never probed for information when she kept quiet. He was with her that chilly, Saturday night, loitering around the skeleton of Palace Arcade. He was attentive to her words as she commented on how vacant it must've looked after everything was stripped away and that she wanted to see for herself. There was a zealous twinkle in her eye as she said it. The same, rare shimmer of reflected light he had the honor of witnessing as she beat him at Dig Dug or when he finally consented on her offer to give him skating lessons.
"Lucas?"
Once again, the wary voice of Eleven gave him the strength to break free from the confines of his reverie. However, unlike the last time, he faced her with a lifted chin and a hopeful light in his eyes. The air felt breathable again, and his back was relaxed from its tense form. Like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.
"She's at the arcade." He said, and Dustin, Mike, Eleven, and Will's features had all contorted into confused expressions.
Though, once Lucas explained his reasoning, the thought clicked with their brains, aligning everyone's mindsets.
Soon enough, they all rushed up to the first floor, and Mike had broken off from their huddle to find his sister while everyone else dashed toward the coat rack. Lucas was the first to reach his pile of outside wear, seizing his coat from the hook and slipping it over his shoulders. His boots were next, and he bent down and dragged them toward his feet. He was able to slide one on before he was interrupted by the sound of footsteps, and he spared a glance at Mike as he hurried down the stairwell. Nancy was hot on his trail, her car keys jangling along with each resounding stomp.
Lucas' focus returned to the task at hand, his fingers making quick work of lacing up his boots. But his mind still buzzed, each thought piecing together an expectation he had already believed to be true within his heart: Max was a member of The Party. And no matter what transpired between them, they were always going to be there for her. He was always going to be there for her.
Max would always have a family.
Sometime later….
The wind howled, its blustery currents striking against the exterior of the arcade. For what felt like the hundredth time, the window across from Max shook. The force of its tremors seemed stronger than the last, like they were beckoning the dawn of an earthquake. If that were the case - or if a portal had opened in the middle of the floor, and a Demogorgon lunged out to snatch her up and drag her to the Upside Down - she wouldn't be compelled to fight it. Most of that fire was spent on combating her bastard of a stepfather, which had been a consequence of Billy's death.
The early stages of their altercations were dormant. Just a handful of heated disagreements, with only a few reaching their breaking point. Of course, it was only a matter of time until the pot boiled over, its blistering hot water washing away the line separating verbal and physical abuse. A large portion of its durability had been weakened ever since Neil and her mother returned home from their cruise, expecting a warm welcome by their children instead of what they received: a dead son, a distraught daughter, and many unanswered questions.
The first time Neil's anger had reached her was about a month into her first year of high school. The throbbing ache of his hand striking her face was the only sensation she remembered feeling. Everything else, especially after he had stomped away, leaving her frozen up against her bedroom wall, just felt numb. She was shocked at how fast things had escalated, but it didn't last, arriving and departing faster than she could skate out of her neighborhood. She was angry, but at herself, and the intensity of that rage paled in comparison to their succeeding fights.
Before, everything disputed was Max's rebellion against him and his control over her life. All she had to worry about was defending herself from his wrath, but then he discovered she was close to Lucas and wouldn't stop barking about how she wasn't allowed to associate with a nigg-
…
That boy.
Ever since, Max took extreme precautions. She made sure Lucas never picked her up or dropped her off right where she lived, hid all of his stuff - some of which were items she swiped from his locker while others were little gifts he had offered to her every time they made up - and limited their time together outside of school. Everything seemed to work out without a hitch until it didn't one Friday afternoon. She had been strolling down the steps of Hawkins High, her hand meshed comfortably with his. She had been laughing at some stupid joke he told her, but the bubbly sound ceased once her gaze left his in a momentary glance. The soft grin had also slipped away, her expression shifting as soon as she saw the AMC Eagle. But it didn't hit her until she had caught a glimpse of his unreadable expression through the windshield, knowing it was only a front he wore to shield his contempt.
It was over, just like that. Once again, Max had no one to blame but herself. She fucked up, she indulged that moment with Lucas and left them exposed to Neil's wrath. It was her own fault that he beat her that evening, and she opened herself to his fist when it split her lip. She was to blame for her last fight with Lucas, her venomous words severing their bond before her infection influenced a long-term effect. Regardless of the positive effects of his antidote.
Lucas was different from all the other guys she knew. He wasn't like her father, a man who was too much of a coward to fight for her after her mother divorced him. He was far from the man - if you could even call him that - Neil was. He never raised his voice during an argument, he fought tooth and nail for her spot in the Party, he found it difficult to be happy whenever she was upset, and he always - always - went the extra mile to make her smile. Even if he had to embarrass himself in the process. He was a good guy, and Max didn't deserve him.
At least that was what she kept telling herself, though the alcohol in her system was supposed to block off her buzzing thoughts.
Sighing, Max snatched the bottle up from its place beside her and into her line of sight and watched as the deep amber liquor swirled inside its transparent confinement. A noise akin to the wind's wails shook the room again, but she ignored the reverberations and brought the bottle's finish to her lips. Her eyes fluttered shut as she tipped her head back and gulped down a numbing swig, succumbing to the sweet burn of the rum gliding down her throat. She exhaled, her breath taking the shape of a small cloud before it disintegrated into the atmosphere.
A sharp thud ripped Max from her peace, and the bottle slipped from her grasp, rattling against the ground as it landed. She recoiled further against the wall, her arms folding over her legs as they rose to her chest.
"Max?"
The sound of his gentle voice sent a wave of warmth to her core, but its heat wasn't enough to thaw out her panic. Her muscles were still as stiff as a board, and she found it difficult to follow her typical breathing pattern, which in turn complicated her ability to form a coherent response. Even if she could speak, she wasn't certain she would. There was just too much to say, too many emotions that were threatening to flow, and she didn't want to unload all of it on him. So, she decided against replying and remained silent, her wide eyes scrutinizing the office door as it screeched open.
A beam of white flooded in, touching the ceiling in one corner before roaming down to the wall. Lucas stepped into the room, furthering the space between the door and its threshold as it creaked open. His gaze followed the light as it strolled along the floor, illuminating various junk food wrappers and plastic bottles. Her skateboard came into view as he continued his search, giving him the encouragement he needed to push forward. Finally, the light reached a pair of maroon high-tops before traveling up to her defiant mane of scarlet waves.
Max protested the blinding glow with a strangled mewl, her features twisting into a grimace.
In contrast, the sound was like music to Lucas' ears. He expelled a breath, his shoulders sagging in relief. "Oh, thank God you're here! I was starting to think Dustin was right about you just being hungry."
He reduced the extra space between them in one quick step, his knee thumping against the cool concrete as he descended onto the ground. He moved to position his flashlight so its lens faced the ceiling again. However, he made sure the angle was perfect, tweaking it so the white glow shone over them this time. Once he finished, he turned to Max, expecting her to meet his gaze now that a blinding beam of white light no longer blocked her line of sight.
To his dismay, she still hid from him, prompting his lips to curve into a frown.
"Max. Hey, what's wrong?"
She huffed, meeting his gaze. Though, she maintained that eye contact by peering through her parted fingers, one hand still pressed against her face while the other rested over a raised knee.
"You shouldn't be here," she slurred, finally finding the strength to speak in hopes that - packed with her signature death glare - an oral threat would discourage him.
But Lucas dismissed her warning, quirking up a brow, "Neither should you. It's freezing in here."
Max replied in the form of another wordless scowl, and he figured he needed to work her from a different angle. He broke away from their staring contest and retreated into his headspace, his eyebrows knitting together as he thought of his new approach. However, before he had the chance to stitch those ideas together, he got distracted by a glimpse at Max's free hand. Specifically, the piece of cloth encased around it.
While Lucas inspected it, he realized it was his bandanna. It looked like it had seen better days, tattered with holes and loose strands. But it was his, and red smudges were staining the splotches of green and black.
"What happened to your hand?" he asked again, fighting to keep his voice from wavering as his stomach dropped.
She shook her head in response, raising her bandaged hand so that it could return to her face. But as soon as it left her knee, she felt his fingers brush against hers. She flinched from the contact, her hand flinging away from his grasp. His features crumpled, a hurt look flashing across his face. She missed it though, her fingers landing on something smooth, weteven. She peered at the source, freezing along with the rhythmic beating of her heart.
He opened his mouth, another question concerning what had caused her to run away eager to flow from his lips. But before the words could rush out, they died in his throat as he watched her hand fall from her face, exposing her cheek to his field of view. His question felt meaningless because the crimson cluster of blemishes tainting her freckled, ivory skin had already given him the answer he sought. The relief didn't fill his core at the clarity like he was naive to expect. Rather, nausea filled him instead. And he had to fight it, his Adam's apple bobbing up while he attempted to stop the sensation.
A wave of memories inundated his brain: moments when Max strayed away whenever they were hanging out with Dustin and Mike, instances of him shooting mere glances in her direction whenever they were together and he had picked up on her strange vibe. Most of them had picked up on her odd behavior, but each time, he wrote them off as a consequence of her grief. He believed that was just how she chose to adjust to those changes in her life, but there was more to it than that.
It was more than just Max mourning Billy and their complicated relationship. It was more than just Eleven moving away with the Byers, leaving a gaping hole in their party. There was more to what he had seen from observing her exterior. He had been too blind - too accepting of the idea that everything was fine while she endured her stepfathers' rage alone.
"It's ruined."
Lucas snapped out of his reverie and turned to Max again, who looked more distraught than he had ever seen her. He stared at something in her hands, and at a glance, it looked like some magazine. The crunching noise it made as she gripped it sounded like paper, which fit his suspicions. But that guess, as well as any other estimate he could come up with would have paled in comparison to what it actually was. He found himself staring once the light had caught a glimpse of the back, the deformed coloring clear enough for him to recognize the black, bold lettering of the "Marvel Comics" logo.
He watched her as she flipped the comic over, exposing a massive stain at the cover's center. Blacks, reds, and several other colors were meshed together, blurring out the body of the figure painted in the center.
"I ruinedit," she held his gaze, her fingers digging into the damp paper, "That's what I do. I- I ruin everything."
The muscles in his jaw worked as he narrowed his eyes. Thousands of objections sat at the tip of his tongue, itching to pour out and reassure her. However, none of those grouped words seemed to fit. He neededtheir alignment to be perfect.
"I ruineverything," Max repeated, blinking back the wetness swelling beneath her heavy, azure eyes.
"My dad abandoned me, I couldn't save Billy, I push Neil harder than he pushes me."
A heart-wrenching sob slipped past her dry lips, and she could feel the tears as they flowed down her face. They blurred her vision, but she could hear Lucas as he shuffled toward her. The comic slipped from her fingers as she felt him tug it away and reach for her, his fingers brushing against the side of her face. His skin was as cool as the bitter air between them until it grew warm against hers, easing her shuddering.
"I- I had to ruin usbecause I didn't want to ruinyou too, Lucas," she plunged her teeth into her bottom lip, preventing another sob from tearing out of her throat.
He stilled, features going blank. His thumb had stopped moving too, but it had resumed its pace quicker than it took for his expression to retain emotion. He wiped away another fat droplet - along with a fiery strand - before gliding down to her cheek. His fingers traced over the afflicted area, eliciting a sharp hiss from her despite his light touch.
"Did he-" A lump bulged its way up to his windpipe as he tried to speak, so he forced it down with a gulp.
"Are you hurt anywhere else?"
She dipped her chin and pulled back from his touch, biting back a gasp as the crisp air washed over her face. A shaky exhale left her chapped lips as she peeled back her sleeve, exposing yet another bruise to Lucas' gaze. Anotherangry mark tainting her perfect skin, reminding him it was real and that there wasn't a way he could have prevented its existence. All he could do was endure that gut punch and stare the imperfect spot into oblivion.
"I get that you're mad. I wanted to tell you, I- I just…" Her small voice trembled, and she sniffled, letting the words hang in the air.
Silence lingered after her confession, reminding her of how cold she was despite the comfort of her jeans and sweatshirt. She shivered, sliding her arm back into the soft polyester sleeve. The quiet became suffocating after several moments. As a result, she succumbed to the desire to play with her bandaged hand, her fingers tugging at the ends of the knotted fabric.
However, before she could fully immerse herself in it, she heard Lucas utter a revelation of his own. "I could never be mad at you, Max. Not really."
She turned to him, her guarded expression softening at the sight of his eyes. Those deep, russet irises peering at her with such warmth. They were alwaysso light and soft, which never ceased to amaze her and made her feel like a fool for ever expecting them to be cold.
"I am... frustrated. But at myself. And Neil and your mom. Basically, everyone butyou."
Max's mouth twisted into a frown. "You should be. I'd be pissed if some dumb drunk ruined my chance of finding out how BP crushes the Soul Strangler."
Lucas plucked the comic from where it lay in his lap. "Well, I have enough change to buy twenty copies of Jungle Action."
"But if I didn't, and this was the last copy?" His mouth stretched into a dubious smirk.
"It wouldn't be the end of the world. I mean, it did get that "dumb drunk" to talk to me. And now I know how to help her."
Max wrinkled her nose, her narrowed eyes a witness to him as he rose to his feet.
He discarded the comic book with a swift flick of his wrist before turning back to face her just as fast. His lips were still curved upward, but they were fainter and stretched his mouth in a way that only elevated her suspicions, which were validated as soon as his soft voice had filled her ears once more.
"We can stay here if you're sure. I don't mind since I know you're okay, but my house is safe and warm. And there's plenty of Christmas cookies."
Her eyes screwed up at that, and she pressed her lips together while she considered his words.
Last year, in mid-December, Lucas had brought a lunchbox full of baked goods to school. At lunch, he would trade them with the boys for whatever their moms had baked for the holidays. He exchanged with Dustin for Gingerbread and Mike for Snickerdoodles, and his goodie bag had just enough to share with Eleven since she had still been under strict supervision at the cabin. Max - however - was an odd number in their list of even. Not only was she a new addition to their group, but she also never really gave them any insight on her own holiday traditions.
As a result, Lucas had decided to share his leftovers with her. Of course, she was reluctant. But they looked and smelled better than anything her mother had ever tried to bake, so it wasn't long until she surrendered her indecision. In fact, it took almost a full minute before she finally accepted his gesture. With flushed cheeks, she did her best to mirror his kind smile as she reached for the most enticing cookie.
Its perfect blend of rich butter and redolent spices had overwhelmed Max's taste buds, imprinting the flavors into her memory. She channeled that sensation for her next response, her tongue still twitching even after she opened her mouth.
"Did your mom make those- um-" She slapped her knee, regretting every drop of alcohol she had ingested. "The pretzel-shaped cookies? With the Red Hots?"
"Yeah, the Cinnamon Hot Twists. She made more this time, so there's enough to get you through New Years."
Lucas paused, recalling her maudlin inebriation.
"How much did you drink?"
Max blinked, her eyebrows knitting together.
She couldn't recall the exact amount of her alcohol intake, but she knew how she felt: dazed, maybe a few hairs close to tipsy. Nothing close to wasted. If so, she would have long since tossed her cookies. Or his words would have been incomprehensible to her ears, and vice versa.
"I'm not wiped out enough to miss out on those cookies, so don't even thinkabout taking it back," she countered with a warning glare, jabbing a finger in his direction.
Lucas snickered but appeased her with an inclination of his head. "A promise is a promise."
At any other time, he would fight harder to suppress his amusement at her fire. However, as he held her gaze, drinking in the endearing pout as it graced her lips, he couldn't help but embrace the mirth as it came. Even as the color suddenly faded from her complexion, which had already been hues away from her actual skin tone.
"I'm meeting your parents. I'm- I'm meeting your mom. For real this time." She gawked, her agape, ocean irises managing a quick blink.
"Fuck."
"You'll be fine, Mad Max," he encouraged, stretching out his hand, "Just... try not to swear in front of them, okay? They don't see the charm."
Max rolled her eyes, but her gaze regarded Lucas with amiability, darting back and forth between his coy smile and open palm. The dance carried on for several beats, his other hand joining the mix somewhere along the way. Finally, her lidded eyes flickered back to his face and she relented with an exhale. She extended both hands to meet his, her grip tightening around his fingers as he hoisted her off the floor.
That evening...
Lucas believed in his parents and their kind hearts. His father would strain every muscle in his body for anyone who needed help, no matter the details or how messy they were. His mother - though careful and critical when needed - offered warm words whenever she believed they could ease any tension. Sometimes, she would even make someone's day for the sake of it. They were honest and genuine, and he had always felt fortunate to have them as his teachers.
But knowing that wasn't enough to silence the doubts swirling about in his brain, little thoughts spiraling from his anxiety. They shouted as though they were a student at the back of the classroom, interrupting the instructor as he spoke. They spouted truths about Max, elements of her that he knew his parents would disapprove. Her intoxication was one of them, and it had been exposed to his parents' radar moments after he had hurried through the front door with her attached at his hip. Her abuse was another red flag, but she had little to no control over what had happened. It was obvious the moment they were lead to a room with more lighting, and the damage was unmistakable to their stunned gazes.
Once they were filled in on what had happened, his father was eager in his benevolent gestures. He took the reins, making sure she was warm and hydrated. His mother, however, was impassive toward Max as they examined her bruises. She only expressed a flicker of vexation to Lucas before they moved her upstairs, and she had instructed him to stay behind. He did, finding temporary comfort in cushions of the sofa. However, he still found himself on edge, the silence and his stationary position growing more intolerable as time passed. Even when Erica appeared for what felt like a split second, pestering him with her brazen questions. But then he remembered his promise, realizing there was still more he could do to help, and he was on his feet in an instant.
He spent the remainder of his time in the kitchen, whipping her up a meal. Most of it was gathered on the counter, the pile consisting of another glass of water and a grilled cheese sandwich, but he still needed those cookies he promised her. Three steps and two container adjustments later, six baked delicacies were placed on her plate with deliberate hands. Two of her Cinnamon Hot Twists and two Oatmeal Raisin, his personal choice. It was a precaution, just in case her stomach couldn't handle the heat and needed a more soothing piquancy.
Footsteps shook through Lucas' focus, and he lifted his head to his mother just as she descended the stairwell, his father shuffling close behind her.
Both of his parents' brows were furrowed with tension, but it melted from his father's expression the moment he locked eyes with him, his features softening as soon as he met a pair of wide eyes, identical to his own.
"She's settling in fine. A little pain, nothin' another ice pack can't fix. Her hand's good, just a clean cut, nothin' deep."
Christopher crossed the room, stepping around the island with a heavy sigh, "Listen, you bringing her here… we weren't expecting it."
He clapped his son on the shoulder, "But it was the right thing to do, and I'm proud of you son."
Lucas nodded, his lips twitching into a faint smile as he reached for the hand on his shoulder, giving it an appreciative pat. "Thanks, Dad."
A moment of silence filled the space, until Mrs. Sinclair joined them, her next words grasping at their attention. "That girl, Maxine."
He frowned, but at his mother's deprecating tone, not her studious countenance as she regarded him with raised eyebrows.
"I'd see her racing down the block every time you'd come back from basketball practice…" she recalled, crossing her arms. "She helped you prepare for those tryouts at school?"
He nodded again, recalling those first few weeks of the summer and all the hours he and Max had spent at the court. She was strict and never tolerated his excuses when he missed more than one free throw at a time, but also encouraged him every time he made his jump shots. Her pressure was uncomfortable at times, and it sucked that he got through those three weeks only to get cut right at the finish line. However, he knew he was capable after all that work, which contributed to the chances of him making the team next year.
"I wasn't too serious about it first. It was just an inside joke between Dustin and me. Then Max found out about it, and she didn't think it was funny because she thought I was a good fit. So she offered to help me."
Lucas paused, shrugging as a shy smile crept onto his face. "I liked basketball, and I knew I could be good at it if I really wanted it. Just like you and Dad always tell me. But I wasn't sure, and Max- I don't know why… but I couldn't do it until I knew she believed in me."
Angela watched her son as he beamed, his teeth glinting underneath the glow of the kitchen lights. His smile also reached his eyes, but not before piercing through his mother's wall. She considered him for another moment, her lips firm and pressed together as she mulled over his words. Finally, her chest rose with a quiet exhale, shoulders sagging along with her breath. She shared a knowing look with her husband as his arm slipped around her shoulders, the brief exchange reassuring her of what she had already decided.
Deep within her heart.
"She can stay."
Lucas squirmed in his spot, his mouth stretching into a grin.
"Hold on a minute. We have some conditions," His father added, biting back his amused smile.
At that, he hurried in composing himself, nodding his head and maintaining eye contact with his mother as she spoke.
"She can stay as long as she needs to," Mrs. Sinclair repeated, her tone firm, "But I can't help her run from what's going on, no matter how bad I feel for her. That girl needs more help than we will ever be able to give her."
She turned to her husband, and he cleared his throat before making his interjection, "We think it would be best if Maxine sleeps in Erica's room while she stays here. You two are growingup, and certain feelings may uh- you two are-"
"You don't have to explain, sir," Lucas swallowed his urge to wince, his eyes going wide, "I understand. The last thing I want is to keep her from getting better. Or… uh, complicate things."
Mr. Sinclair nodded, clearing his throat once again.
"Good."
A beat of uncomfortable silence hung heavy in the air for a full minute before Mrs. Sinclair alleviated the suffocating pressure. "Well, I just wanted to make sure we were all on the same page before you went up. You can go ahead and tell her the good news."
She turned to the plate of food resting on the counter, her russet irises sparkling in levity as they swept over the cookies.
"Andthat she's welcome to indulge in more of those cookies. I'm not getting any younger, neither is your father. The less sugar we eat, the better."
Lucas smiled, a chuckle slipping past his lips and filling the air along with his parents' laughter. As soon as it died, he excused himself and made his ascent to the second floor, one hand balancing the food with his palm while his other hand held the water. As he reached the top, a burst of bubbly laughter flowed out into the hall, rendering him to halt before he could take another step. The sound was so rare and refreshingfor him to hear these days, he allowed it to guide him as he strolled toward his destination. Like it was his first time walking the path and he had gotten lost, even though he had walked it dozens of times.
He pictured her smile and how big it got whenever she couldn't control her laughter, but the image paled in comparison to the real deal. It didn't render him motionless as he stopped at the doorway. It couldn't steal the same amount of breath from his lungs as he stood there, not caring if he looked stupid. No, she beamed brighter in the flesh, the lamp in the corner of the room aiding her appearance with its warm glow.
Max looked more comfortable than before, which had to have been an effect of her new attire: a pair of eccentricleggings he had spotted once when digging through a box of old clothing, combined with the navy blue sweater he remembered wearing to school a few weeks ago. Her copper tendrils were clumped together on one side, but they were free as they flourished over her shoulder.
Her complexion also looked healthier, the color a shade or two closer to her natural tone even with the awful bruise still staining her cheek. Those breathtaking pools of blue were as light as a feather, shimmering with a smile that paled in comparison to the way she beamed. It shifted into something else when her gaze met his, her lips halting in their movement for just a second. Just as fast, they curled into a smirk, and the next thing he knew, the sound of her voice hit him in a rush. Like he had just returned to the surface after a long, exhausting dive.
"I'd peg you for a peeping Tom if our roles were reversed, Stalker."
Although his hearing had been restored, he was still as stiff a statue in the doorway. His features had stayed relatively the same, eyes almost as wide as his mouth, which appeared to be taking all the time in the world to close.
"You're sucha creep, Lukey. No wonder she keeps dumping your ass."
His sister's words were the trigger, provoking a perceivable reaction in Lucas, his narrowed gaze snapping to where she sat. Her legs were perpendicular to each other as they dangled from the edge of his bed. Right across from their guest, who had trouble masking her amusement as she watched what was unfolding before her.
"Max is staying, and she'll be your roommate. So you can go and help Mom get yourroom ready," he instructed, prompt and nonchalant.
Erica challenged him with a raised brow, her lips pressed together.
"You do it. She's your EX-girlfriend."
The tension clouded the room more with each passing second, leaving the air more bitter and unbreathable. Before their sibling rivalry could reach its breaking point, Max arose from her slouched position, her eyes rolling to the back of her head.
"I thinkwhat he meantto say is that he thought it would be more appropriate if you gave me a tour since it's your room. Right, Lucas?"
She shot him a discreet look just right before Erica had turned her way, and he nodded when her narrowed gaze flickered his way.
"Plus, a little birdie told me you were a female comic book connoisseur. Got any, say… hmmm," Max pursed her lips, her eyes shining with a playful twinkle, "issues of Vixen?"
Most of Erica's anger had faded upon hearing the name, but her irritation was still present, her eye brows shooting up at the same rate her eyes had bulged out of their sockets. "Duh! She's thebest of the best. Way better than Wonder Woman."
"Oh, I'm not so sure about that. She's pretty hardcore. But I'll tell you what- you get something that proves she's the best, and I can debunk it with whatever I have."
"And what exactly do Iget in return?"
Max blinked, her features mimicking Erica's unwavering grit. "More debate skills for your future career in law. And sixty bucks, if you can convince me."
The girl held her stare, her features unreadable for several seconds. Then, she extended a hand, her arm slipping from its entanglement with the other.
"Fine. But I'm not waiting forever. And I still want my money evenif you do decide to chicken out."
"Don't count on it, because I'm getting another day with DD when I win," Max countered, completing the exchange with a firm hand.
Erica gave her another look, a shadow of a smile on her face. It melted from her features as soon as she shimmied off the bed, her gaze meeting her brother's as she walked to the doorway. She shot him a nasty look as she passed him, her chin jutting into his personal space.
As a knee jerk reaction, Lucas mirrored her expression and stepped into the room, creating more space for her departure. Once he was sure his pest of a sister was gone, he turned to Max, resuming his stroll as he spoke.
"Really, Max? 'More debate skills for your future career in law'?"
"It worked better than your outdatedapproach. I know it might be hard, but mean big brother doesn't always work. Trust me."
For a split second, her lips had curved into a fraction of a frown. Just as fast, they shot back up as he came to a stop before her and held out her food. She grasped the plate, beaming once her gaze had found her sandwich. She dove in as soon as the dish landed in her lap, her tear in the cheesy bread leaving behind long, gooey strands of gold.
"Oh, Godthis is so good," Max dabbed at the bacon grease that began to collect in the corner of her mouth, "You didn't have to make it, though. I would have been fine with just the cookies."
Lucas had turned to dispose of her glass, setting it against the coaster resting on his bedside table. But his features had shifted into a pointed look, his eyebrows shooting up along with his lips as he called over his shoulder, "Please. You'd be starving."
She glared a pair of daggers at him as he swiveled back her way, an inconceivable sound tearing through her stuffed mouth as she took another bite.
He shook his head, watching as she devoured the whole half, but his amusement began to fade as her words regarding his relationship with his sister bled into his mind. The more he thought about it - how he couldn't recall the last kind word he had spoken to Erica - he realized maybe she was right. Life was unfairly short, and he hated the idea of her not knowing how much he cared. Not in the past, it was already gone. Not in the future, a time filled with many uncertainties. But in the present, while the opportunity lasted.
"You're right, about Erica. I just... she's so aggravating sometimes. And I-waita minute!"
Forty-five minutes. He had been separated from her for almost a full hour. And the next time he saw Max, she was in hisroom. Sharing a laugh with his sister, who had left the room only three minutes ago. A glimmer of satisfaction flashing through her mask.
"She's turned you. Holy crap, that's it," Lucas' eyes went wide as he lifted a forefinger in Max's direction.
She froze right before digging into the rest of her grilled cheese, her eyes narrowing to slits as they flashed up to him. "Seriously? You better not be serious."
"How long did it take for her to win you over? How did she win you o-"
Out of nowhere, something soft - and yet so unbelievablyhard- whacked Lucas square in the face. He blinked, but opened his eyes as soon as he heard it thump against his floor. The light flooded back, outlining Max and her hot glare.
"I don't know if she's plotting against you, and I don't care, okay!?"
Max sighed and swiped a cookie from the smooth porcelain. Using both hands, she fidgeted with it, her fingers smoothing over the surface and picking at each microscopic crumb. She avoided his eyes the next time she spoke, but her words were softer and difficult to comprehend. Even with no other sounds disrupting her.
"She told me about the gift you got me. Y'know, the one I don't remember getting because you never gave it to me."
He gaped at her, his breath hitching before it could leave his mouth.
She knew, and he was nowhere near prepared to explain himself. Luckily, he didn't have to, at least while she filled the still air with her explanation.
"El called after I took a shower. We talked, and she asked me if I wanted to open her present before Christmas. Guess she thought it would make me feel better," Max snickered, the corners of her lips quirking up before returning to their pressed shape. "Erica came in as soon as I turned off your walkie. She said something about a box being in your closet. With my name on it."
She chewed at the inside of her cheek, another exhale exiting her as she braced herself. When she looked at him again, she caught something in his eyes before they averted from her stare. Once what was seen registered in her mind, she felt her appetite dry up like water in the Sahara.
It was the same glint of shock and despairthat made her reminiscent of that bitter afternoon. Her harsh words ripped off the band-aid that had repaired their relationship countless times. A barrier that soothed the minor scrapes of the misunderstandings and minuscule disagreements. At the time, she believed that had been the best approach, but she was wrong. So undeniably wrong to think it would somehow make everything better when there was nothing she could have said that would ease the ache of his broken heart.
Max sucked in her next breath, a wave of nausea filling up the pit that had dropped and withered inside her belly.
"What I said, I didn't mean-"
She cleared her throat, concealing another tremor as it threatened to disrupt her speech, "I didn't mean it, Lucas."
He was quiet for a moment, his fingers massaging the skin at the nape of his neck. When he lifted his head, he was met with wide eyes and a quivering lip, reminding him of how she looked at the arcade. Instillingin him the goal of making sure she never looked that terrified ever again.
"Hey, remember what I said back at the arcade?"
She gave him a nod, her nose wrinkling as she wiped it with her sleeve.
Lucas craned his neck in her direction, his smile light and reassuring.
"I could never hateyou, Max. No matter what happens, even if we need space from each other and don't talk. I will never. Ever. Stay mad at you."
A pause, and then his gentle features had turned mischievous, his brows crinkling together.
"And I know the perfect way to prove it to you!"
Without warning, he turned and rushed across the room. He moved so fast - or maybe it was the alcohol still present in her system - that she could only see the blur of a broad grin on his face as he had reached his closet. Before she knew it, the doors were wrenched open, and he had spent a few minutes digging his things before he stepped away, using both hands to unveil a paperweight sized box.
Max regarded the item with scrutiny, her heart thumping faster the longer she stared. She had known of its existence beforehand. However, all it did was confirm something she had been insecure about ever since she had kissed him at the Snowball: the significance of their relationship and how it seemed to accelerate faster with each passing day.
"How… how long have you been hiding that?" She swallowed, ignoring the droplet of sweat as it rolled down her flushed face.
Lucas reclaimed his previous position, nudging the pillow out his path with his foot. Standing still, he played with the box in his grasp as he considered his reply, his fingers pulling on the bow's loops. "Since Thanksgiving."
At his response, Max ducked away from his stare, her lips pressing together. Before she could get too caught up in her guilt, she felt the air shift and heard the mattress sink beside her. They were followed by persistent nudges, prompting a release of breath from her as she turned to him.
"But it doesn't matter! That was all in the past, Mad Max. And guess what? We're in the present," he smirked, wiggling his eyebrows.
The giggle flowing from her mouth betrayed her frown. And soon, there wasn't a single trace of annoyance or regret in her features because she had to make room for glee. She had burst into a full-on bout of giggles. The kind that could have her rolling on the floor if she hadn't already steadied herself, a hand over her belly as she doubled over.
When Max finally came back from her jubilant high, she shook her head and accepted his gift, trading it with the plate in her lap. She made quick work of the cube's exterior, its kaleidoscopic swirls unraveling in response to the bow's tug. Her fingers dove into the crevices of the top, gliding along the inside as they searched for a fold. She was swift in finding that as well, wrenching the lid off with controlled force. But as soon as she took a look inside, her muscles tensed up, and the world around her began fading to the back of her conscious. The present-day and all of its events traded seats with a memory she had sealed away a long time ago.
It was months away from her migration to Indiana, yearsbefore her mother had met Neal, yet she could picture the day perfectly. The sun was as bright as ever but was merciful as it shone against her protected skin. All kinds of aromas from the various concession stands assaulted her tiny nose, but she was more content with her ice cream cone, her tongue lurching toward the rose droplets as they coated her hand. Her father's calming voice stood apart from the several distinct voices as they walked along the boardwalk. However, she hadn't tuned in to what he was saying until she heard a familiar name. Two magic words capable of tripling her joyful mood.
Ferris wheel.
Blinking, Max reached inside the box, her fingers smoothing over the gleaming glass before diving down to the sides. She got a good grip around the center and hefted the snow globe from its blanket of packaging paper. Her view was altered, and she took advantage of it, ogling the pier from the side. The sudden jerk of movement prompted the white flakes at the bottom to soar up to the top. She shook it harder the second time, jostling the false flurries into a race around the dome. Her memory of the pier remained the same. She could even see herself being guided inside a cabin of the great, unmoving wheel of blue skies and fluffy clouds.
Outside of her bubble, Lucas observed her with a close eye, watching for a change in her indistinct expression. A sign indicating what she thought, or if she was even thinking at all. Her intense examination of his gift showed her interest, but he needed more than that. He wanted to know that there was a reason he held onto that snowglobe instead of ditching it the moment she broke up with him. He wanted her potential happiness to be that reason.
"There was this gift shop in Toledo. Mike and Dustin fought over a replica of Doc's DeLorean, El helped Will pick out some art supplies, and I found this aisle filledwith snow globes."
He nodded at the object in her grasp. "But I saw this one - Christmas in Santa Monica - and I thought about you."
Max blinked again, his words resonating within her as she traced a finger over the nameplate, the warm skin of her fingertip connecting with the cool bronze. In contrast to her laxity in prying open the barrier between her and her gift, she was more deliberate with its return, lowering the snow globe back into its box. After, she sat there, frozen like a statue. Still avoiding Lucas' gaze while the pounding in her heart resumed, right in tune with his rambling.
"It was hard not to. I mean, the vibe was off during the entire trip. And we did our best to make it work, but we- I couldn't stop missing you and-"
Then it happened. Max made his words die in his throat. Within seconds, she rendered him numb. Every muscle inside his body had turned to stone.
She kissedhim.
Her lips were a swift flutter against Lucas' cheek, yet powerful enough to give him whiplash. Her touch was also firm, almost as if she wanted to leave a mark. Heck, he was certain there was one after she had pulled away, but he lacked the energy to check. No, he was rendered numb in his seat, his russet irises stretched open as they swiveled to her eyes. They were just as surprised, holding his gaze for barely a minute before she turned away from him, the crimson color of her bruised cheek spreading like wildfire across her pale face.
"I was serious about winning that bet with Erica, so I should probably go now." She tucked the lid back into its slot, securing her gift before she hopped off of his bed.
Turning to his bedside table, Max relayed the snow globe to one curved arm and reached for her plate. When both items were situated, she trudged to the door, each step dragging along until she stopped walking all at once. Seconds were spent on deciding whether she should indulge in her urge to say something else. Something capable of conveying how much she really appreciated Lucas, no matter how difficult it was for her to express.
Patience, however, wasn't her virtue, and she decided without wasting more time. Because before she could second guess herself, her body had spun around to face him. The words were already spewing from her mouth.
"Thank you,Lucas."
Max lingered by the doorway, a tentative smile beaming from both her lips and eyes. Then she was gone, slipping out into the hall within the same amount of time it took Lucas to blink.
He ogled at where she stood, his features slack for several moments before a huge grin broke through his trance. He took his celebration a step further, his fist shooting forward before rebounding back to his side. He finished with a bang and collapsed onto his duvet, bursts of wrapping paper exploding out from underneath him and onto the floor. Releasing the remainder of his adrenaline rush with an exhale, a thought about his sister entered his mind. For the first time, he made a mental note to thank her for meddling in his room and his relationship.
Not before giving her a hard time, of course.
Can I get a round of applause for *drumrolls* VAMPIRE!MAX?! Hehe.
I hope you enjoyed this part, also known as my 11k rant to the writers for screwing with Lumax! I've been itching to add to how their relationship was portrayed in S3. My opinion on them is mixed since I did enjoy the little moments *smirks* that they had together. Though I – as well as everyone else it seems – have issues with the way the Duffers' elaborated on the details behind their several breakups and Max's "immature" behavior toward Lucas whenever he made a mistake. This is something I found interesting since it sharply contrasts with Mike and Eleven's relationship.
I plan to branch off this poorly executed idea when I write more Lumax in the future. Maybe even improve it since I don't have faith the writers will in S4. Heck, with our luck, they may even break them up for a lesser reason! I'm not worried, though. I plan to do them justice. Even if the path I create leads them in separate directions.
Until next time!