Ah, this is kind of a boring chapter, so I'm a bit sorry, but I think this gives an insight into Fang's thoughts, which is important. My scheduling will be starting next week, so I'll be sure to get reminders on that!

Disclaimer: MR isn't mine, guys.

Is this what death looks like? Fang thought, his brows furrowing deeply in thought. His hair had fallen into his eyes, shrouding his vision, and his entire body felt cold, the kind of cold that seeps through clothes and wraps around any source of warmth and diminishes it.

Bottomless, pitiful, and monochromatic...

He ran a shaky hand through his tousled hair, keeping the hand perched on the top of his head. Although the room he was in was certainly very noisy, he couldn't hear anything but a low buzz and the stubborn "fine" that was the last coherent thing Max had yet to say to Fang. He blinked a few times, staring at the sleeping body that took up the bed he was laying on, squinting from the harsh light of the beeping monitors and ceiling lights.

Ella was sleeping next to him on a nearby chair, curled into a ball and nuzzling in Fang's jacket - the only thing he could give her as a condolence. He somewhat regretted it as the temperature in the room started to drop along with the sun, but thought better of it when he realized he liked it better when she was asleep. When her eyes were closed, she wasn't crying or asking ridiculous questions or blaming him, of all people, instead of thinking about the students that made her the way she was.

"Mr. Walker?" Ella said groggily, shifting in her chair. He turned his head back, flicking his hair and dropping his hand. He took his other away from Max's warm one, wiping his hand on his jeans. "What time is it?"

His eyes darted to the clock. "Half-past two."

She blinked. "In the morning?" Lethargic fists started to rub circles into her eyes.

Fang nodded. "Wouldn't you have to attend classes if it were the afternoon?"

She removed her hands, glaring at him for a bit, her eyes squinty and dull. "I didn't ask for your sass, Mr. Walker."

"As the teacher, shouldn't I be saying that?"

She scoffed. "Regular teachers would have gone home by now."

It was true. Fang hadn't left room 809 at Charing Cross hospital since Max was admitted. It was selfish, and it was strange, but for some odd reason, he wanted to be the first person that Max saw when she woke up. Fang wasn't sure why he thought this, but it was something along the lines of wanting to hear the typically rebellious student praise him for coming and finding her. And for something so seemingly boring like waiting in a hospital room, he found the future interesting and forthcoming.

Besides, his life was already so boring.

"Don't you smoke, Mr. Walker?"

Fang stopped gazing at Max's unruly and matted hair and looked at Ella incredulously. "Why does that matter?"

"Well, what I meant to say was, don't you smoke a lot? Like, pack-a-day kind of guy?"

He rubbed his temples, trying to avoid the oncoming migraine. First years were so bothersome and curious, with wide and awed eyes like a deer, completely innocent to the horrors of secondary school. Ella's head tilted to the side expectantly. They were also overconfident yet somehow sensitive.

"Once again, why does this matter?"

Ella looked like she wanted to sink into her chair, embarrassed. "Well, you haven't smoked in a while. Don't you want to?"

It was hard not to imitate her wishy-washy sort of speaking, but Fang did his best not to. He had those sort of urges from time to time, and it sort of came from being a teacher for so long and realizing that every student he ever taught was a hormone ridiculed mess, but there were other parts. Like wanting to be void of responsibilities like a teenager. He almost shook his head.

"Are you trying to tell me to leave?" Fang quirked a brow.

"Sort of."

"That's all you had to do, Ella. Try being more forward on your tests as well, Fray tells me your thesis statements are comically indecisive."

There was an offended cry from beside him. Fang smirked walked out of the room without looking back, but when the door closed behind him, it was like a lifeline getting snapped in half.

Although he did it often, Fang hated smoking. He hated how he knew all the bad things it did to his health - and that he was probably going to get some form of lung cancer if he kept smoking a pack a day - he hated the way it stunk up everything from his car to his breath. He did it for the jittery feeling it gave him, the kind of slap in the face that told him that he was alive.

Fan's fingers were awkward and inept as they slid a cigarette out of the carton of Marlboro's that he'd opened the other night. His Zippo let a few sparks fly as they ignited the end of his cigarette, and Fang took a small drag, a fire starting to heat up in him. He recalled the events of the day and shuddered, remembering where he was and what he would have been doing if he hadn't been the one to find her. What if she hadn't been found at all?

Max's face entered Fang's mind as he took another drag, playing with his Zippo and lighting it every few moments. He liked the way the orange light would flicker on for a few seconds in the darkness of the early morning. He liked how he could control it, could turn on such a beautiful glow, and then diminish it like it hadn't even existed. But when he thought of Max, it wasn't any fun.

Maybe I should just go home, Fang thought finally. He was on his third cigarette and was starting to get cold, his nose numb and probably pink. Ella was still at the hospital after all, and she would give him back his coat eventually - she didn't like him enough to keep it, but had the courtesy to wash it for him. It probably smelled like cigarettes and coffee, but he couldn't care about what his students thought of him. Fang put his Zippo in his back pocket, stashing the cigarettes in the other one.

Fang brought out his phone, dialing the first number that came to his mind. "Cigs, come pick me up."

There wasn't a response, but the line hadn't clicked.

"Cigs, I need a lift to the flat and I know you're there."

There was a muffled noise on the end, like swallowed laughter.

"James Iggy Griffiths, you fucking twat! I need a lift to the flat and you and I both know bloody well that no other bloke is going to do it!"

The muffled noise was louder, like the laughter was almost uncontainable. Fang's eyes narrowed.

"Fine," Fang sighed, "I guess I'll just have to tell the headmaster that you fancy one of your students, Ella Martinez..." He let his voice trail off.

"Oh, you fucking wouldn't," was the first thing that Iggy said harshly into the receiver. Fang wanted to contain his laughter, but it was so difficult with Iggy getting all flustered.

"Ella's at the hospital, you know. Maximum Ride is her step-sister, you know."

Fang could almost hear the springs of Iggy's bed creak as he shot up. He could hear Iggy fumble with his buckle as he on put some pants, and the sound of the receiver muffle as he pressed it to his ear, trying to get a decent shirt on.

"Which hospital?"

Fang covered his mouth. He wouldn't laugh. "Charing Cross."

"Don't need to tell me twice."

"Hey, mate," Iggy said, patting Fang on the back as he entered the waiting room. "You look like a meth addict, you know."

"What the absolute fuck are you talking about?" Fang asked, somewhat insulted, somewhat amused. He liked the way that he could swear easily around Iggy, like it was a second language. It was amazing, the fact that he didn't have to politely speak to him the way he did other teachers that were just a bit older than the two. It made Fang tired to talk so much, or to say so many things that weren't necessary, just polite nothings. It was great to cut loose.

Iggy laughed for a moment while they started to walk to the elevator, and whipped out his phone while they were alone in the confined space. After passing it to Fang, he got a good look at himself through the inward facing camera.

"Oh, bollocks."

"Refined this morning, aren't we?"

Fang passed Iggy his phone. "I suppose it's a lifestyle."

When they reached room 809, the smell of antiseptic had infiltrated Fang's senses to the point of where he felt almost nauseated. He had never liked hospitals, and he didn't think he ever would. There was something about the pristine lab-coats that the doctors wore, the way their clipboards faced towards them and could be full of secret notes that documented ulterior plans. It was stupid, and Fang was paranoid about ulterior motives, but it was the truth and he wasn't about to deny it.

Iggy was the one who opened the door. Fang tried to look disinterested, which typically wasn't a difficult feat, but it was extremely tiresome as he stuffed his chapped fingers into the worn out pockets of his jeans, placing his impassive stare onto the bones of his cheeks like a mask. Iggy didn't bat an eye - he put on a facade as well, but his was of the opposite spectrum.

"Oh, Mr. Griffiths! You're here, too?" Ella said with awe. "I didn't know teachers did this kind of stuff."

Iggy flashed her a smile that seemed out of place for the situation. "We care about the well-being of our students, you see." His smile was overwhelming.

The two exchanged flirtatious comments that would never mean anything - after all, Iggy's love for Ella was completely unrequited, and, even if it wasn't, could never turn into anything while being a teacher. Fang had already stepped aside and stood at Max's hospital bed. He gripped her hand, feeling the warmth that was one of the only reassurances that she was alive. The hand twitched back for a moment, and Fang gripped it tighter.

"Max?"

There was a low groan from the bed as one of Max's hands reached to her forehead, rubbing it lethargically. "I did my essay, Walker, leave me the fuck alone..."

That's how he knew she was going to be okay.

"Excuse me, Mr. Walker, but I'm not sure I quite understand how this works."

"Are you an idiot?" Fang said from his desk. Students snickered. "I basically just told you what to do in a minimum of five minutes. Even you could have figured it out."

"I know," she said, sighing, "but I haven't been able to think clearly since my incident."

Of course she wouldn't be able to understand everything. You're a tosser, aren't you? Fang thought to himself. It had only been a fortnight since Max had left the hospital, and she was extremely skittish around people. She stopped fighting because she would have to touch people. She wouldn't come to all her classes because people would bombard her with questions. And there were the few, the seriously sick minded fucks, that would get annoyed and hurt her because of the four students that were expelled.

"Get over here, and bring a chair." Fang took another sip of his coffee and sighed, thinking about how often this would happen. It wasn't an issue, and Fang actually liked it when she talked to him, because it made him less guilty. Nonetheless, Fang had been as much as a wreck as Max had been over the past fortnight, and coffee stains littered graded work. He hadn't even returned George the giraffe.

"Whoa, is this Nudge's?" Max asked, taking the giraffe from Fang's desk.

He snatched it from her hands. Was Nudge her nickname? "You had a question about the assignment?"

She sulked for a moment and opened her mouth, as if wanting to say something but not knowing how to articulate it exactly. Fang liked that about Max, they was she was constantly reevaluating herself to fit the needs of others. Although she liked to play stubborn and cocky, Max actually cared about others more than herself. "I just don't get it."

Fang sighed again, and explained it to her once more. Pointing to her papers and hitting different words on the paper. "Where's your copy of Hamlet?" he asked her. When she pulled it out from the bag that was draping over her thin shoulders, it was tattered and emaciated, the spine crooked and various papers ripped and stuffed back into their appropriate place. Max bit her lip but didn't say anything. "I won't ask if you don't want to tell me the answer."

"Ah, they kind of trashed my stuff when it happened, so..."

Fang didn't miss a beat. "Then you'll have to make do, yes?" She gave a curt nod, but a smile was toying at her lips. "Turn to page fifty-nine..." He kept talking, telling her the same things that he did the rest of the class. Max peered over his shoulder, staring blankly at the text. "Don't tell me you forgot how to read as well?"

A blush creeped up onto her skin, and Fang blinked for a few moments. Max seemed almost childish as she said, softly, "You just smell weird."

Fang put down the book. He was certain that he didn't smell strangely, for he just had the scent that he always did. However, her opinion, for some reason, mattered to him in that instance.

"Oh? What do I smell like?"

"Coffee and cigarettes." Ella's lack of confidence was definitely from Max.

"Then what's new?" He asked, looking at her.

"It's just different from a student's smell."

Fang rubbed his temple. "I'm your teacher, Max. Of course it's different." He pointed to the book with his ballpoint. "Do you get this?"

She nodded, picked up the book, and went back to her seat, but Fang couldn't help but feel a ghost of a smile tug at the corners of his lips.

Maximum Ride was definitely interesting.

Please tell me what you thought!

-SOCIALLYOBSCENE