A/N: I started this months ago, and it wasn't originally meant to be a drabble. It wasn't really meant to be anything actually…but this is what it turned into.

Also, you may or may not be glad to know that I think I may be getting back into a little bit of a writing groove. Today I just had this urge to sit down and write, write, write. That's what I'm attempting to do and I'm not sure how it'll work out, but I'm just glad I finally feel like writing again.

My mini comeback is dedicated to RedWheeler and soraskybeauty – both of whom I used to keep up regular correspondence with once upon a time. All the messages are currently lost in my inbox – I'll get back to you guys, seriously!

School sucks; requests coming soon; I own nothing; I love you all, even if my updates don't reflect it.

Cat and Mouse

He was constantly walking towards her, and she was constantly walking away. It had become a sort of game between them – so much so in fact, once in a while, he even ran and she pranced. He'd reach out to her with laughter fluttering from his throat and playing with his facial features. She'd raise an eyebrow and allow him to get so close before she'd dance away, shooting him the strangest of looks from her bright, knowing eyes.

"You're a weird kid, Maxie."

That much he knew. It didn't bother him, though. No matter how childish she claimed their game of cat and mouse was, he still enjoyed himself because he knew that, deep down, she was enjoying it as well. After all, when Mariam wasn't enjoying herself, a person found out quicker and more violently than they would've preferred.

From Max's point of view, her expressive disinterest in him lacked a certain vigor and relish usually present in her more realistic disinterests. That was how he knew she was having fun.

The more Max thought of it, the more convinced he became that in their game of cat and mouse, he was the mouse and Mariam was the cat, but he was still the one doing the chasing. He chased her helplessly, with the impression that when he finally caught up with her, she would decide she'd done enough running. He thought that instead of gobbling him up, she'd toss all her premonitions about how they were too different aside and become his friend. Maybe they'd even be more than that.

Mariam, on the other hand, was running from him, because she was more scared of herself than the little pest so insistent on catching up with her. It would be a waste of time, she decided, to pretend that she could be anything else to a mouse, than a cat – she didn't want to be responsible for tearing him apart if things went sour. But that didn't stop her from getting immense pleasure out of turning around and pouncing on him every once in a while, then pretending it never happened.

Besides, there was no harm in catching him off guard – they both loved it, even if she didn't admit it.