Hey! It's SociallyObscene! I realized that I was in the mood for some Max and Fang drama, so I kind of whipped this thing up not knowing where it was going to end up. I'm not quite sure what I think of it yet, but I'm excited to see what happens!
Disclaimer: Yeah, Maximum Ride isn't mine. Sorry. I wish.
I can't get her out of my head.
There's no other explanation. I've tried so hard to forget her, so fucking hard, but she's there. She's right there, in the center of my vision, dancing before my eyes and telling me that she's not going anywhere.
I'm sick and I'm tired and I'm out of breath. There's not a single thing that I can do to remove my feelings about the whole situation, and my chest aches in discomfort from giving too many feelings their own way.
Maximum Ride does not need to know the way I feel about her. She wouldn't accept it anyway. I've only been an asshole to her, and there's nothing that I can do to change the way she feels about me now. I've made an imprint on her mind, one that I'm ashamed of, one that crushed her brain into a flat disc and ruined all of the potential I had for just about five fucking seconds before I ruined it all.
It's obvious that I'm being dramatic. I know that it's true. There's just so many things that I've wanted to say to her but couldn't - no, didn't want to - say for fear that it would be over right on the spot, just a bit after I said something. I need to conquer my words, to rise above impulsivity that bites at me every time someone says something.
I'm impulsive. I'm rash, radical, and everything that comes with annoyance. There's not a single person that could ever pick that up, though, because if I'm only going to say stupid and idiotic things to excuse myself from my own personal embarrassment, then I might as well not talk at all.
Or as little as I can.
"Maximum Ride! You fucking bitch!" I call out. Fuck. No. How embarrassing. I turn around just as Max lifts her head up, looking around to find the mouth in which the words came from. Please don't recognize my voice, I think, turning in the opposite direction and going down the hall, beating against the current of students and their heavy backpacks. Lunch traffic couldn't possibly be worse.
I settle down at the staircase that leads to the auditorium, sliding my bag off my shoulder and sitting in the corner. I'm sure that this is someone's seat, I'm just too pissed off to give a damn.
"I guess I'm not eating lunch," I whisper to myself, resting my hands on my knees while watching the students shamble to the lunch room. My stomach groans in protest of my comment, but I don't care. I don't care about anything but the seething pain in my head while I try not to punch the brick walls of the school.
Maximum Ride finally took revenge on me. Sure, I deserved it, but it was completely uncalled for her to tell my mom that we were dating, grab the spare keys to my Buick from my room, and total my car. Ever since then, my mom asks me all about her, as if I give a shit. "Oh, how is that Maxine? She's a real sweetheart, Nicholas, you picked a keeper!"
Hell no.
Besides, Max already has a boyfriend, a perfect guy named Dylan. He's the captain of the football (AN: Soccer in the states) team, wears khakis, and is on the honor roll. A goody-two-shoes that I sure as hell can't beat.
"Hey, asshole, is that you?" I hear her say. Can't I get a little break? I think, preparing to swing my backpack onto my shoulder again and go to Mr. Koetteritz's room. I stand, sifting a hand through my hair and making my way down to the ramp while avoiding the stampede of students, acting as if I didn't hear her.
"Fang! I hear her say, her voice not too far behind me. "Fang!" she repeats again. I only go faster.
"Leave me the fuck alone, Ride," I sputter, trying to get words. This was not exactly how I imagined Max coming to talk to me.
My feet carry me to the Commons, a large circular room infested with banners from different countries and winding halls, like the body of a spider. The library, guidance office, and main office wrap around the walls of the Commons along with the gym, and I can't decide if I want to go into any of them with the risk of a teacher asking me why I'm not at lunch or not in class.
Inside the heart of the commons is the Pit. The Pit is a lowered area in the floor of the Commons, a maroon stone floor with tiled blocks that almost gate it. It's the place to hang out, I suppose, but hardly anyone is there unless it's the morning and students are waiting for the bell.
Before I can make my way to the Pit, her hand wraps around my wrist. Her touch is white hot, almost burning, and my heartbeat is in my ears, an erratic thump that doesn't seem to stop. In all actuality, however, her hands are frigid, frozen against my arm, but I can only feel the fire from her touch.
I fucking hate how it's like this.
"Look at me," she says, and it's almost like a command. I want so desperately to turn around and stare at her beautiful face, but I want even more for her to feel the irritation that I felt when my car got totaled. "Please, Fang. Just look at me."
I can't help it. I want to see her. Slowly, I turn my body. She doesn't take her grip off of my wrist.
I raise my eyebrows at her, asking her a silent question of what do you want? Her eyes are burning to life, honey swirling her pupil around in dashing adventure.
"Was that you?" she hisses, roughly taking her hand away.
"Was what me?" I just can't help but love the way her hair frames her angry expression.
"Oh, don't you fucking play games with me, Fang." She sucks in a breath. "Why did you call me that? I'm not going to allow myself to be put into the position of a victim anymore, and it's definitely not okay for you to do that to me."
"You totaled my car," I say, not breaking my impassive stare. I can tell how much she hates it. How much she wants to see me angry at her, showing some sort of emotion that is only ever unleashed when I'm picking on her.
"You deserved it!"
"Look, I know that I'm a total asshole to you, Ride, but there's no reason for you to total my fucking car. It was a lousy piece of shit when I found it, and I revived it to the point of where I liked it. I spent weeks on that car."
She smirks. "Great," she looks me dead in the eye, "now you can spend months working at the City Market just trying to get it repaired."
I don't know why, but that set it off. I wanted so much to be able to control my filter in that moment, to control the impulsivity that rages inside my chest, but I can't. For some reason, I can't help but say what I'm thinking to Max, and that's dangerous. It's really dangerous. My insides roll over on hot coals.
I take a step forward, precariously close to her face. At this distance I notice all the things that I could never notice from the distance I usually stay at. The spray of freckles that sit on the bridge of her nose, the green flecks in her honey eyes, the way parts of her hair cascade from her face violently without warning. Fuck, she's beautiful.
"Who the fuck do you think you are?" I demand, my head pounding. I could almost feel the steam coming from my ears. For once, Max looks truly scared of me. "I slaved over that car for weeks on end and you decide that it's okay to total it when it's fucking not-"
"Are you saying that it's not okay for me to retaliate when all you've ever done to me since I moved here two years ago is pick on me? Tease me? Bully me?"
"Aren't you being a bit dramatic?" I ask, but I'm shocked on the inside. There's no way that I had intentionally tried to bully Max, and there's no way that was what she took it for, was it? "Tell it to Dylan." The words are a sour in my mouth. I don't think she even heard me.
"Oh, so you telling me that I was worthless, disposable, was basically an invitation to be friends?" She scoffed. "I'm sorry, I must have missed that one."
Our close proximity makes my face heat up even more than it already would. I turn away from her, not being able to comprehend the enormity of my decisions. Did I really do that? I can't believe myself. I'm such a fucking idiot.
"I'm not done talking to you, Fang," she says dangerously, her tone biting at me. I flinch, and she must notice, because I can almost see the glint in her eyes of guilt, thinking have I gone too far?
"What," I say. It's not even a question anymore. I'm just done being an asshole. I'm done unintentionally making people feel bad. "Tell me what you need to tell me. I'm done. I won't ever talk to you again after this, I promise."
Max gulps, almost regretful, vengeful. Like she had done something horrible to get me to the point of surrender, when all I have ever done was fight, fight, fight. And when I couldn't fight anymore, stand up and bite with words. She can see that. She's known it for so long.
I can't believe I didn't even notice the point in which I was doing those things to her. There's no way I can bring myself to use the crutch of "impulsive" anymore. I need to control myself. I can't talk at all, now. Not without hurting someone.
"Forget it." I look up from my hands, but I can't bring myself to look at her honey eyes, with the underlying tone of hatred in them, the kind of hatred that's been brewing for so long that it doesn't know what else to do once it's gone, so I stare behind her. I stare at one of the many flags that litter the walls. I stare at the corner of the auditorium. Anywhere but her.
"Okay," I say. "I'm gone." As I start to leave, I feel her grip on my wrist again.
"Just one more thing," she says. "Why did you do it to me?"
This is the one question that I've never been prepared for. Half the time, I wasn't even aware that I was being rude, and right now I'm positive that she won't want to hear that from me. All I know is that I'm thinking too hard.
I close my eyes and let my body talk for me, because for once I want the impulsive side to tell her how I really feel, no matter how much I'll regret it later.
"Because," I breathe, "I wanted to get you to notice me. I wanted you to see me and think of me as someone important in your life, whether or not it was a positive or negative influence. I selfishly believed that you would warm up to me after a while, when it was clear to me that I wasn't doing anything to make you like me at all. I was only pushing you away. I did it because I like you, and I was willing to make you hate me in order for you to pay attention to me at all."
Her eyes widen. Those honey, melting eyes that pierce into my soul. "Fang," she says, that tone of voice that I know all too well. It's the tone of rejection. Fang, I'm dating Dylan. I can't hear it, though. Not right now, not right in front of the Pit while we stand in the heart of the school. I know that I do, though.
"I won't bother you again," I say, and I mean it. I don't think I've ever talked this much in my life. "But can I just finalize it? Can you properly reject me?"
She's still shaken down to the bone, her eyes glazed over in surprise. I don't want to repeat it.
My eyes close, waiting for the same rejection tone.
But instead, she kisses me, a hungry and passionate kiss. A kiss that means I'm sorry, and one that has every word in the entire world in it. My mouth moves with hers in response, and a fire courses through my body, something that feels so fucking good, something that I've waited forever to get. My hand reaches into her ashen hair, and I work my fingers through the small knots at the base of her skull, loving the way it feels in my hands.
The bell rings, and when we break apart, we're both breathing heavily and staring into each other's eyes like we'll forget everything about each other if we don't spend these few moments remembering it all.
"You're beautiful," I say, "I'm not a liar who just wants to feel better about himself anymore."
She bites her lip, and I can tell that I've entirely misunderstood the kiss. the I'm sorry kiss, one that means that I won't ever deal with you again.
"What the fuck, man?" I hear, and then a fist collides with my temple. I'm disoriented as I fall to my knees, watching black spots dance over my eyes while I see who hit me. Dylan stands above me with scraped knuckles. "Don't you fucking touch my girl," he says, just before I faint.
I get it, I think as I'm falling, I can touch your hand, but not your heart.
*Laughs* I'm sorry. It's just, this is totally how the first couple Maximum Ride books are like, and it's so funny to see it modernized into something like this. What did you guys think? Reviews are greatly appreciated!
-SociallyObscene