Hi guys!
So, I'm late. I didn't update last weekend, I am so sorry! I had a soccer tournament in Boston, and I had no time to update. I was too busy freezing my ass off in the snow.
But I'm back this week! And I promise to update on time next weekend too!
Other than that, I have nothing to say other than read and review!
Max is crying when she wakes up. At first, she doesn't even realize it, but then a salty tear falls into her mouth. And then she's sobbing.
The tears feel alien. She hasn't cried in a long time. Not since he left her. She promised herself then that she would become her new name. She would become Maximum Ride. And Maximum Ride does not cry.
So why is she sniveling now? Nothing especially painful has happened to her. Sure, she has to kill Jeb, but she kills people for a living. It might suck for a while, having to deal with the loss of the only father figure she's ever really had, but she'll get over it. And besides, after his part in those awful events, it might actually feel a little therapeutic to watch a bullet lodge itself inside of his skull.
Yet she's still bawling.
Shuddering breaths make her chest rise and fall quickly. Is she getting enough air? Her eyes widen as this thought hits her? What if she isn't getting enough air? What if she's dying?
But just as soon as the panicking began, it ends. Max's shuddering breaths slow until they're deep and calming. Tears still flow freely down her face, but at least she can breathe.
She still doesn't understand why she's crying though. It isn't the fact that she is going to try her hardest to kill Jeb. So is it the fact that she didn't kill Fang? That she's going to work with him?
It's confusing, being forced to trust that man, but not depressing or enough to make her cry. Confusion doesn't cause tears.
But she is confused. Why is she trusting Fang? Why didn't she pull the trigger? On the list of things she's fucked up, this ranks pretty goddamn high.
Fang was interesting though. A major asshole, sure, but still interesting. She couldn't help the intrigue that plagued her when she saw the mask of smugness and arrogance break. Fang is a puzzle that she wants to solve. And the first piece of the puzzle involves figuring out what made her trust him. It definitely wasn't any of his traits. Nearly everything that man has ever said and done screams jerk. She should have felt a little bit of satisfaction killing him. Instead, she couldn't kill him at all.
What was wrong with her? All he said was her real name, and she shattered. She should be stronger than that. She should be able to hear about her past without nearly suffering from a mental breakdown. If anything in her messed up life is going to work now, she has to stay strong, not become a blubbering mess that sobs at the mere mention of the past.
But she's still crying.
A small, broken sound exits her mouth when she tries to take a deep breath. Even though she has no clue why, this makes her break down yet again. The tears that had begun to slow speed up again, until they're falling into her mouth and dripping onto the floor. Her nose is stuffed and makes it even harder to breathe. Something in her chest is making it tight, and causing her to draw in short, choppy breaths.
"I can't do this right now," she whispers to the empty room.
She repeats those six words as she stands and walks to the bathroom. She repeats them as she counts three of her painkillers and pops them into her mouth. The only reason she stops is to shiver as she feels the pills slide down her esophagus.
It takes a minute, but the calming, woozy feeling that the pills always bring settles over her, making her feel lightheaded. She half walks half stumbles back to the couch before lying down and closing her eyes.
Some tiny, quiet voice in her head whispers that this addiction might be the thing to kill her one day, but Max ignores it. It'd be an ironic death. She's done so many dangerous things, and will do more that could get her killed, but the leader in the race of things to kill her is a small bottle of white pills. A bitter, tired laugh leaves Max's mouth before she falls back asleep.
MAXIMUM RIDE
Fang needs a drink. A vodka, maybe. He really needs to lose his thoughts and the annoying feeling in his chest.
The weird part is that the feeling in his chest isn't painful. It doesn't feel like his heart is trying to rip itself apart. It simply feels warm. Maybe even a little soothing. And because it is so close to comforting, it annoys Fang even more. Why the hell does he have to feel this way? Shouldn't he be terrified? Shouldn't he be worried that one of the deadliest people he knows of is either working with him or plotting to stab him in the back? Why is he stuck with a comforting flutter in his ribcage instead?
Is it Max? Is it that woman making him feel this stupid flurry of warmth in his chest? Fang sighs. It can't be. He just met her a few days ago, and for most of their time together, she was trying to find and kill him. So it doesn't make any sense that she is the cause of the feeling.
He should really get up. He's been sitting on the floor with his back against the couch for what, six hours now? Going to the bar and snagging somebody to go home with him might help, but he can't find it within himself to go. Hell, he can't even find it in himself to walk into the kitchen and grab the bottle of whiskey he has in there.
It's pathetic, really. Less than a week ago he killed a man who embezzled millions without blinking. Now, he's sitting on his floor, thinking about some girl he barely knows.
Get up, he commands. But when he straightens up and pushes himself to his feet, all he ends up doing is falling onto the couch and closing his eyes. And then he resumes thinking about Maximum Ride.
MAXIMUM RIDE
The clock reads seven when Max wakes up again. Deciding that seven is an acceptable time to head back to Jeb's bar, Max stands and tries to shake off the feeling of the pills. She doesn't need to feel dazed nor have her senses dulled. Only when she knows she's alone and she can't deal with the pain at that precise moment does she go to the little orange bottle.
As she dresses, she tries her hardest to forget what had happened. She just needs one more night to pretend her life hadn't been shot to hell.
Clearing her mind isn't too difficult. The pills are still wearing off, so her mind feels lighter than it usually does. Her senses are back to normal, but her mind is still a little behind. That's fine by her, as long as it helps her deal.
But the effect doesn't last long enough. Somewhere between her house and the bar, Max begins to notice everything again. She notices how a stranger holds her gaze on Max for a second too long. Max notices how the pools of light cast by the streetlights are following her tonight, not allowing the shadows to swallow her like they usually do. All of these things send her paranoia back up to its normal level. Of course she can't pretend anymore. She can't fool herself into being normal, even for just another night.
That isn't going to stop her from trying, though.
She makes a dash to the bar as soon as she enters. Eyes follow her, as they usually do. Everybody knows who Maximum Ride is, and her appearance never goes unnoticed. Max just doesn't care tonight.
The second her ass is on a chair, she's ordering a shot. And as soon as that one is gone, she orders another. After her third, she slows a bit and orders a scotch.
As she sips her drink, men begin to approach her. Max dismisses them quickly, usually with a roll of her eyes and a quick 'no'. But then she orders another drink, and her world begins to spin. And accepting somebody's invitation to go home doesn't seem like such a bad idea anymore.
Max is giggling more than she should be now. She finds some guy named Sam so funny, even though she realizes his jokes are corny and his pick-up lines are overused.
"Do you want to get out of here?" he asks after a few minutes of conversation.
It's a legitimate question, Max decides. It deserves serious thought. But as soon as she begins to actually think about it, she can't help but giggle. And then she's concentrating on not laughing instead of the question.
"Um," Max gets out between drunken giggles.
That's all she gets out before a much deeper, more serious voice is speaking up. "Get lost, asshole."
The giggles are shocked right out of Max. Who was talking now? She can barely focus on what Sam is saying, and now she has to listen to someone else?
"Dude, I'm just talking to her," Sam's eyes are angry as he turns towards whoever had spoken.
"Well, you need to stop talking to her and get the hell out of here."
Max turns too, only to nearly bump into a chest clothed in a black leather jacket. A giggle escapes her mouth for a second before she controls it.
"Whatever," Sam spits before walking away, muttering curses under his breath.
As soon as Sam is gone, Max looks up at the other man. She has to squint in order for his face to come into focus. After a second, the blurriness clears, revealing an annoyed face with dark eyes. "Fang!" she exclaims, surprise in her words. "Why are you here?"
Fang just sighs. "I wanted a drink, and apparently, so did you."
Max nods earnestly. "I didn't want to think anymore," she says honestly, her voice lighter than Fang had ever heard it. She's still on the verge of breaking into laughter.
"I'm taking you home," Fang shakes his head. "Come on."
The light, happy look on Max's face is immediately replaced with a pout. "Why?" Max's voice is nearing whiny.
"Because you're drunk."
"I don't want to go home."
"Sucks."
Max sighs angrily before crossing her arms over her chest. But she still stands when Fang gives her a look.
He leads her out of the bar, making sure to keep a hand on her shoulder so she doesn't fall over. Even with the support she's stumbling around like a child learning how to walk.
"Max," Fang asks, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice, "Where do you live?"
A thoughtful look comes onto Max's face. "In New York," she decides after a moment of thought.
Fang sighs again. Of course she's so drunk she doesn't even remember where she lives. "Fine," he says, still trying to figure out what to do. "We'll just go to my place then."
Max grins at him. "Do you have any grilled cheese there? I'm hungry."
Fang almost laughs. The woman who was supposed to kill him, who has killed numerous people before, is standing in front of him, drunk, and asking for grilled cheese. It's so absurd that it's funny. "Sure, Max."
They make it a block or two before Max almost falls into the road. "Carry me," she demands as soon as she's standing again.
A groan exits Fang's mouth, but he picks her up bridal style anyways. "You're a pain in my ass," he informs her, "And you're lucky that I need you, or else you'd be going home with that asshole."
Even as he says the words, the feeling in his chest is pumping through him, warm and strange. It got stronger when he entered the bar and saw Max. What the hell is it? High cholesterol?
Fang carries Max all the way back to his apartment. The woman at the front desk smiles at him, probably remembering when Fang had taken her up to his apartment last week. But as soon as she sees Max in his arms, her smile falls off of her face and she huffs angrily before turning away from him and towards her computer. The gesture was probably supposed to mean something to Fang but doesn't.
Max is nearly asleep in Fang's arm as they ride the elevator. As soon as they enter the apartment, she is asleep. Fang tucks her into bed, sighing as he rolls out his shoulders.
"Pain in my ass," he mutters as he looks at the sleeping girl, but it's said with a small smile.
Only a few minutes later, Fang is nearly asleep on the couch. He wants to be in his bed, but he also doesn't want to get punched in the face when Max wakes up in the morning and finds him in the same bed as her.
So he sleeps on the couch instead, trying to will the feeling in his chest away.
MAXIMUM RIDE
The bed is too soft. That's the first thing that Max realizes as soon as she wakes up. It takes her only a second to understand that she isn't in her own house.
She jackknifes into a sitting position, only to fall back down when her head pounds. Wonderful, she has a terrible hangover. Just what she needs at the moment.
She stands, slowly this time. Where the hell is she?
"Max," somebody calls from another room. "Is that you?"
She doesn't answer; she still doesn't know where she is.
But then Fang enters the room, shirtless and with bedhead. Max's eyes widen as she sees him. Did she so what she thinks she did last night?
Even as the thoughts fly through her head, the only thing she can manage to say is, "Shit."