Human
Written by Megan.
75 posts.
21 years old.
bi bi bi.
I am Male.
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Post by Maddox Kane on Aug 3, 2022 20:01:33 GMT
His fingers were steepled beneath his chin, the skin smooth and only marred by tanned mole on the right side of his jaw. There was a rare focus in his eyes, gaze caught on the treeline at the back of the park. It led to a small wooded area, nothing quite like the Beacon Hills Preserve, but a shiver went down his spine all the same. Max had been careful with his time outdoors as of late, always cautious and weary of where he was or what time of day it happened to be when he ventured out. No walks in the woods. No late night trips to his broken-down car in the motel parking lot. No more chances of finding a woman with her dying breath wheezing past her lips and onto his sweaty face. He closed his eyes at the thought, a shuddering sigh whispering from his mouth as he shifted his elbows higher up his thighs to relieve the sore spot his weight had been resting on. He was hunched over, seated on a park bench as he waited—making himself small, unthreatening and feeble. He wasn’t a large person to begin with, his growth stunted from a long list of reasons he chose to lock deep in the reserves of his conscience, but he’d always made an attempt to be even smaller. He didn’t want to be noticed. His eyes were always downcast to not catch another’s curious looks. A little anti-social butterfly with his wings tucked close and thankful for their muted colors.
He was very much the opposite of who he was waiting for.
It had been a few days since he’d seen Alex Harper. A tall, vibrant man with wings the color of brilliant golds and blues and greens. A man who held himself with confidence and mirth and delight. He had a belying strength, the curves of his muscles overlooked by the gleam of his teeth as he flashed another smile. He was Max’s anti-thesis. And yet, he’d asked to meet him again. Shy, bashful Max. Nervous, clumsy Max. Alex had called him, too little patience to type out a message and wait for Max to reply, giving him a time and place knowing that Max didn’t work on Wednesdays. So here he was, the first Wednesday of October, shivering despite the layers he’d dressed himself in. His black jeans had holes at the knees that he moved his palms to cover—fingerless, fraying gloves on his hands and worn boots on his feet. He wore a white t-shirt beneath his burgundy sweater and a thrifted charcoal coat overtop that. Dark colors that hid him in plain sight. Everything was a soft gray and drab color as winter hung over the little town, a gloomy setting that comforted him and unnerved him all at once. He tapped his fingers on his knees, straightening up just enough so he could survey the park. He’d gotten here early, of course he did. He’d opted to walk rather than ride his stolen, fairy pink bike—the wind was chilly enough just sitting, he couldn’t imagine it whipping at his face as he pedaled from the Motel Glen Capri. His leg bounced with anxious energy as his baby blue eyes carefully checked all of the entrances to no avail. Alex wasn’t set to be here for another five minutes and Max knew that meant closer to ten—if not fifteen. The man was chronically late, still not quite used to giving himself the extra time needed to get everything ready for Elena too. Rose had told him to not believe that excuse, that Alex had always been one step behind everyone else and he was quick to trust that assessment. The man was everywhere all at once, spread thin and quite chaotic. Their very first meeting, Max had stuttered over his words as he had to inform Alex that the very first step in building a crib was to dump the contents in the room it was meant to stay in and not downstairs to be assembled as he had already done. He was act first, think later.
It was refreshing for someone like Max who was prone to overthink and dwell.
He dropped his shoulders once more, tucking his chin to his chest as a gust of wind blew past him. Tugging at a loose string on his jeans, he found himself frowning at the cold. Alex had expressed that he’d wanted to do a picnic so Elena could have some exposure to the cooler weather, but Max wasn’t sure if the dad had anticipated it to be this chilly. Which maybe it really wasn’t. Growing up in New York had given him some kind of winter coat, but after spending the last four years traipsing (read: fleeing) across the southern states, he’d grown accustomed to the warmth. Or maybe it was just that his clothing was worn and thin and no matter how many layers he stacked, they were too shabby to hold in any heat. He sighed, glancing around once more and tapping his toes with nerves. Not anxious, scared nerves, but excited. He was excited, such a foreign and world-moving feeling.
Max and Alex had gone from nearly inseparable upon meeting to seeing each other every four or five days—which was still quite often, but a sharp contrast to how they had started that Max couldn’t help but fear that he had messed up somehow because he always did. Maybe Alex was getting tired of always reassuring him or tugging on his hand to keep him at his side when Max shifted to leave Alex’s bed as the morning rays shimmered through the gaps in his curtains. A strange warmth had become a familiar feeling in his chest—a feeling so close to what the girl in Kansas had made him feel, but Max wasn’t afraid of it this time. He didn’t want to run. Not from Alex’s groan as he lost at Monopoly again or the way his hand lingered on the small of Max’s back as led them along the small line of shops near the cafe. Not from the late nights he spent rocking Elena back and forth while Alex’s fingers curled into the loose fabric of his pajama pants, a weak hold that would alert him if Max dared to move. It’s been a week since he’d spent the night. Ever since a girl (who Max didn’t know so it helped settle his worries that he was an omen of death) ended up in the hospital after a wolf attack, Alex had been too busy to have him dwelling in his shadow. The girl was okay (which, when he thought about it, actually didn’t clear his mind—maybe she only survived because she didn’t know him) but his new friends seemed so flustered and didn’t have time to keep an eye on him. Maybe… No. No, they wouldn’t know about werewolves, would they? Max bit his lip, eyes flitting across the entrances once more before leveling on the treeline. That day still haunted him. A wolf morphing into a man and then stealing his underwear after carrying Max back to his room after he’d feinted. He knew Bobbi had been killed by a werewolf and Charlie must have been from what the news had released. This other girl, the young school girl he couldn’t remember the name of—he’d heard Alex say wolf. He didn’t want to seem crazy and ask, didn’t want to lose the only good thing he can remember having and maybe he really didn’t need to know one way or the other. He couldn’t offer any help and learning more would terrify him. It would spark that fear in his gut, that need to run and flee and hide.
It didn’t matter that Alex was busy, he tried to convince himself, fingers tapping on his knees and toes wiggling in his shoes. It didn’t matter because Alex was still making time for him despite how flustered he was. He came to the motel for movie nights and brought food to make sure Max was taking care of himself. He took him around town and showed him secret spots only someone who’d lived here their whole life would know—sharing silly stories about him and Natalia and Rose. He would tuck Max under his arm as they waited in line at Sal’s to be seated and step in front of him when Natalia came in the room because he sensed how tense he was around her domineering presence. He only left him alone with Sam and not Leon—quickly realizing that he was comfortable with the gentle giant but struggled with the teenager’s sarcasm. He would pick Max up in the evening and spewed endless thanks as he rubbed tiredly at his eyes, knowing he’d finally get a good night’s rest with Elena safe in Max’s arms. He made Max feel useful and needed and important. This was his friend, so it didn’t matter if he didn’t see him every day or if Alex only manage a short check-in text in the evenings when he was too busy to call because he was still making an effort.
It didn’t matter that he was only now briskly walking into the park eleven minutes after he’d said he’d be there, Elena in her stroller bundled up tightly as his eyes searched for Max. It didn’t matter because he was here.
Max pushed himself to a stand, smoothing his gloved hands down his front as he smiled nervously and waved at Alex once the man caught sight of him. He tucked his hands away after he adjusted the black beanie on his head—keeping his unruly locks temporarily tamed. “Hey,” he called out, his voice stronger than it had been when they’d first met, his confidence slowly building with each helping hand Alex lended him, “Elena made you late again, huh?” He was joking, something that was still so foreign to him, but he liked the way Alex lit up when he tried to be funny. Alex was always blaming his daughter for his tardiness, each excuse more eccentric than the last. He was curious as to what his reason would be this time.
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Hunters
Written by Jasmin.
48 posts.
22 years old.
crushin'.
I am Male.
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Post by Alex Harper on Feb 12, 2023 21:21:17 GMT
His life had been flipped upside and then spun around about a hundred times until Alex was dizzy and unbalanced in everything he was doing. Two things had happened in such quick succession that he’d spent a few days wondering if they were somehow connected. It wouldn’t surprise him if Stephanie was some kind of psycho killer. Clearly, so fucking clearly, that woman had it in her. Still, it was difficult for Alex to only view Stephanie as someone dark and twisted when she still managed to crop up in his thoughts most days. Claws in his heart or something dramatic like that. Alex didn’t give himself much time to come up with a melodramatic title for her. It had been radio silence from her since that day in July. Not a peep on how she was getting on with her new job or if she’d ever come back or a check on how her daughter was doing. As Alex fished out a knitted hat for Elena to wear, he couldn’t imagine parting from her in the way that Stephanie had. Thoughts of Stephanie were fading except for the worrying tug in his heart that she’d turn up again one and take Elena away. Alex’s face was pulled into a frown as he positioned the purple hat on Ellie’s head of blonde hair, a little rose stitched into the front of it. Alex wasn’t exactly swimming in money these days so a lot of Ellie’s clothes were old pieces they’d stored away. The hat, unsurprisingly, used to be Rose’s. “Do you feel like being good for daddy and not pulling that off?” Alex asked Ellie, his voice soft and hushed as she already attempted to reach up with one hand and tug at the soft material. “Max’ll frown if you look cold and since he’s your favourite person, I’d keep that on.” Alex straightened up, hands on his hips and checking that he’d grabbed everything they’d need whilst Ellie was strapped into the car seat. Ellie’s response was just a gummy smile which was mirrored on Alex’s own face.
“Okay, we’re already late,” Alex announced, grabbing the handle of the car seat, “classic us, hey?” He was constantly chatting to Elena as if she was going to respond in full sentences. Maybe he just loved the sound of his own voice. Maybe it was the only way he was able to keep going.
“Oh, Alex,” his mom called out to him just as he was ready to step outside, approaching with hurried footsteps and a bag in her arms. “Can you give these to Max when you see him?” She asked, outstretching the bag to him despite Alex’s exasperated look when he was already holding the door open with one hand and Ellie in another. “I don’t want him getting cold,” she added, shooing him with a motion of her hand and following him outside into the crisp grey day, leaves falling down all around them. Max, like Leon, and these days like Sam, was a regular in the Harper household and despite mild protests from their parents to begin with, Lucy and George had becoming very welcoming to their often overcrowded home. As long as their visitors - minus Sam - stayed out of the office. Not that that was a problem after Jamie’s break-in, security was now at an all time high, the house seemingly doubling as a fortress now that they’d learnt just how possible it was for someone to get inside. Alex hadn’t learnt many of the ins and outs of Jamie’s break-in, just that they knew it was her and that her own mother was dealing with it. Alex’s own mom didn’t want to weaken the fragile relationship she had with her sister any further by doling out punishment to her niece. “We can get Ellie more clothes, she doesn’t need to be dressed in pieces that are nearly eighteen years old.” Lucy was putting the bag into the trunk of Alex’s car, slotting it amongst the endless other bags and the pushchair that he seemed to always need now.
“Mom, I can’t keep asking for stuff,” Alex replied, a sigh heavy in his voice as he settled the car seat into the back, making sure Ellie was securely fastened and safe. “You and dad have given so much already, least I could do was find what wasn’t moth ridden in the attic.” He only ever felt this serious when talking to his mom, the warmth in her eyes always making his lips reveal more than he should have.
“We have moths?” Lucy replied, voice dead pan but eyebrows knitting together as she glanced back towards the top of their home.
“And mice, mom, it’s a fairly old house,” Alex adjusted Ellie’s hat one last time before shutting her door gently, not wanting to startle her with a slam. “Not weremice thankfully,” Alex said, meeting his mom at the back of the car and offering her a dashing smile. “Although with the amount of cheese Rose likes to eat… who knows.” Lucy rolled her eyes in a perfectly disdainful arc, one which Alex saw on Natalia’s face multiple times a day. The Harper-King genes were a strong batch.
“Okay, I’m going to go back inside, drive carefully,” his mom said, clearly done with listening to Alex’s attempts at jokes. The dark circles under her eyes and greying of her hair sent a wave of guilt through him but she was still smiling. Not writing off her only son as completely useless quite yet.
“Thanks mom,” Alex replied, pulling her in for a quick hug and squeezing her tight for a second before she hurried back inside, clearly cold despite only being out there for a minute or so. He waited until the door was shut behind her before he hopped into the driver's seat and grimaced at the time. “Ellie, come up with an excuse for why we’re late,” Alex said, twisting around to check on her one last time before he headed off.
The drive over was easy, Alex spent the duration of it with his thumb tapping against the steering wheel, every moment that he was keeping Max outside alone a grating pain on his heart. He didn’t want to leave the man sat there in the cold simply waiting around for him to appear. Thankfully, although perhaps annoyingly, he knew Max had quickly grown used to it. Little did Max know that Alex’s recent reasons for his lateness were far more socially acceptable than they used to be. Keeping his eyes peeled for a parking spot close to the park, Alex pulled in easily enough, steeling himself for getting Ellie into the stroller and carrying all of the picnic stuff plus the bag his mom had now given him. It was a good thing he’d been taking his fitness seriously again.
The stroller was now second nature to him and he’d been smart in loading food into a backpack so his hands would be free, Ellie’s bag which contained all myriad of items slotted into the bottom of the pushchair with the bag from his mom hanging off of his wrist. He made sure his steps were quick, eyes peeled to spot Max and make sure he didn’t accidentally walk past him like a fool. “Big smiles, Ellie, distract our lateness with your cuteness,” he whispered as they neared Max, Alex’s smile already wide from the moment he’d laid eyes on the man despite what seemed to be Max’s best efforts to hide from view. The wave sent a wave of warmth through Alex, quickening his walk even more now.
Alex was laughing as he neared, Max’s joke appreciated to ease the guilt he’d felt. “Someone wasn’t sure if purple was her colour so I had to give her a long, Oscar-worthy speech on self-love and acceptance. It’s best to get them in that mindset from a young age, you see.” Alex replied, pushing Ellie to a stop and making sure the stroller wasn’t about to roll away as he placed the bag down on the bench and pulled Max into a warm hug, grateful that he’d waited for him in the cold. “Then my mom started talking about killer mice so I had to talk her off the ledge,” Alex added, keeping one hand on Max’s shoulder as he pulled back, that smile never dropping. He was always embellishing stories to get a little smile out of Max, to tug at the boy’s heart just a little. “In fact, she got you a present,” Alex announced releasing Max to grab the bag and offering it out to him, taking a quick glance inside to establish that it looked to be a couple of new sweaters. “Now if you don’t think they’re your colour, do not fear, I know just the right thing to say.” Alex chanced a glance towards Ellie but she’d impressively fallen fast asleep already. “Oh and Rose wants to know if you’re coming to the game on Friday. I don’t know why it matters who’s coming but you know what she’s like, she’s relentless until I give her an answer so, let me know if you fancy watching our not-that-great high school lacrosse team play.”
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Human
Written by Megan.
75 posts.
21 years old.
bi bi bi.
I am Male.
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Post by Maddox Kane on Mar 2, 2023 20:13:48 GMT
There was just something so warm, so welcoming about Alex that had Max’s shoulders drooping and the tension draining from his tense stance. He could relax around the man. He felt safe. He hadn’t thought that he ever would. Max smiled at Alex as he fussed over Elena and he didn’t doubt for a moment that the father truly did give some kind of speech to his baby. That’s just how he was. Always hopeful and kind and supportive. Max didn’t think he deserved to be in his presence. His whole life he’d been looking over his shoulder, waiting for the next assault—for the next firm hand on his neck, burying his face into the couch to muffle his cries as his step-father did what no parent ever should. His smile faltered on his lips, wiggling down at the corners as he fought the urge to glance behind him. His step-father wasn’t here. He wouldn’t find him. Alex wouldn’t let him hurt him, right? Or, or maybe he wouldn’t care—no, no. Don’t think that. Alex would never let anyone get hurt. And Max was someone. It took him a long time to see that, to see that he was a person like any other—that he mattered. Sometimes he still struggled with that. Alex, though—somehow he would always seek him out in those moments. Almost like he knew, like he could sense that something was off with Max without even being near. He’d show up at his motel door or at work or send Sam his way if he couldn’t spare the time with his full plate. Max would never be able to express his gratitude. He knew he didn’t deserve Alex as a friend.
There had to be some reason all of these bad things happened to him. It just didn’t make sense to him that something so good, something so pure had finally been graced upon him. He was waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the rug to be ripped out from beneath his ratty sneakers. He wasn’t ready for that fall, he didn’t want to think that it would happen.
Alex wouldn’t.
But everyone always did. Everyone always hurt him, left him behind. Everyone shredded his humanity, bruised his porcelain skin. Everyone but Alex. Everyone but the people Alex kept around him.
Max swallowed hard, blinking down at Alex as he fought with Elena’s stroller. He didn’t think he’d make it if he lost the small family he’d built here in Beacon Hills. And as Alex pulled him into his chest and Max tucked his head under his chin, he knew that to be true. He wouldn’t survive being on his own again, he couldn’t handle the loss and the loneliness.
He prayed in that moment, warmed against Alex’s body and held so tight, that he wasn’t a curse—that he’d be allowed to keep these people in his life, that he wouldn't get them killed. Max couldn’t say when the last time he’d reached out to God was, but it felt like his only choice now. Maybe he would spare him this time. Did Max deserve the mercy?
Max’s eyebrows shot up as Alex pulled back, creasing his forehead as he blinked back shock. Surely Alex didn’t mean that, right? He knew that the man would always fib a little bit, but killer mice? He wondered: if werewolves were real, could weremice exist? Who’s to say? A shiver ran down his spine, pebbling his skin beneath the thin layers of fabric covering him. It would be so easy to blame it on the cold. He only had time to let out a short laugh, a baffled sort of sound as he (as always) found himself smiling at Alex’s silly tellings, before Alex was moving away from the rodent talk and letting go of him to grab the bag he had set down. Max mourned the loss of his touch. He didn’t know what that meant, why he yearned for Alex’s comfort the way he did. It almost reminded him of the way he’d made a home out of the girl back in Kansas—and even now, he couldn’t bear the thought of even her name; how weak is that? He derailed that train of thought, curiously looking into the bag that Alex held out to him.
Immediately, he started to shake his head. Even as Alex joked, he couldn’t stop himself from denying the gift—why couldn’t he just laugh? Why did he have to be so damn difficult? Why would he risk upsetting Alex instead of taking the bag? But he couldn’t. He’d already taken so much from the Harper’s, he couldn’t accept this gift. Alex was steamrolling right over his denial, however. Smoothly transitioning from the offering to asking about Rose’s game in a calculated switch of conversation. Alex knew him, he knew him better than anyone had known Max. He wasn’t sure if the man even thought about it at this point, or maybe he didn’t know him at all and this is just how he was and Max was being silly thinking anyone ever catered to him. Max looked away, hating that even now he still couldn’t shut out that cruel inner voice.
Regardless of if he knew what he was doing or not, Alex moving from one topic to another so quickly effectively shut down any chance Max had of verbally denying what Alex’s mother had gotten for him. He wouldn’t bring it back up, didn’t have the confidence or the courage to. Instead, he curled his fingers around the loops of the bag—brushing against Alex’s, he relaxed at the touch—and pulled it closer to him to inspect. The colors were all muted and the sweaters seemed to be whole. Max couldn’t imagine ever complaining about such a handout.
“You’re going?” Max finally asked, glancing up at Alex through his fringe and flushing as he realized how silly that question was, “I mean, if you’re going, I’m happy to join you.” He didn’t know much about sports, anything really, but he was always happy to spend time with Alex and his family. He hoped that Sam would be there to buffer him from Natalia—and he remembers hearing Rose go on and on complaining about how Leon’s practice didn’t line up with hers, so he feels confident in the assumption that the excited young British boy wouldn’t be too close either. He struggled with the energy level, with the questions and pestering. He didn’t do well under Natalia’s scrutinizing gaze either. He could never quiet down his thoughts around her, the insisting calls of she thinks you’re using him, she knows what you let happen to you, she’s going to get rid of you the first chance she gets. Max needed Sam to be there to keep her attention off of him.
He hugged the bag to his chest, seeking out the warmth of the fabric as a breeze rolled through the park. October wasn’t supposed to be so cold, but Mother Nature had other plans in mind. Max was grateful for the sweaters as he shivered, even if he felt he didn’t deserve them. He frowned down at the bag then, fingers curled tightly into the plastic. “Thank you,” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper. He cleared his throat, pushing his shoulders back and lifting his head higher to meet Alex’s eyes—he couldn’t be meek, he had to express his gratitude. Part of him was still scared of what would happen if he didn’t. Those evenings when he didn’t thank Chris for offering him the leftovers of his meal, those nights when he couldn’t get the word out fast enough. He could feel those hands on him, in him—Max blinked twice rapidly, swallowing thickly. “This really means a lot, Alex. Thank you,” he said louder, more earnestly, “And I’ll make sure to thank your mom as well. I—I’m really grateful.” He thumbed at the bag for a moment before deciding it might be best to show his thanks as well, for good measure. He set the bag down on the bench carefully, plucking out a navy blue sweater and layering it over the rest of his tops with an obnoxious amount of gentleness. It was so cozy, protecting him from the frigid air.
“Is it my color?” He asked, swiveling his torso this way and that—arms swaying with the motion. Maybe he wanted to hear Alex say something nice about him, was that wrong? That voice wanted to guilt him for asking, wanted to shame him for making Alex waste his breath. He refused to acknowledge it. The dark blue fabric accented the light crystal of his eyes, almost sparkling as he looked at Alex. So hopeful, so earnest. He didn’t know to keep the emotion from his face.
He pulled the sleeves over his hands, letting the large sweater swallow him whole. His eyes fell to Ellie for just a moment, yearning to hold her but as he noticed she’d fallen asleep, he thought it best not to ask. Max looked back to Alex then, a shy smile lifting just the corners of his lips as he fiddled with the sweater anxiously.
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Hunters
Written by Jasmin.
48 posts.
22 years old.
crushin'.
I am Male.
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Post by Alex Harper on Mar 10, 2023 21:33:10 GMT
Alex had to get Max out of town. The thought was way too crystal clear in his head. Well, less the thought of Max leaving but more the fear of him somehow ending up on the end of someone’s claws. Alex’s inside twisted at the thought, face paling as images of Max hurt, bloody, injured and broken came to him. He’d blame his change in complexion on the cold. On the shift of the seasons. Not on the fact that the thought of Max being in danger was making him genuinely ill. How could he say it? What reason could he give that would make Max leave without being the reason Max was hurt? There was no solid solution. He couldn’t tell him the truth. The thought of Max knowing about werewolves and somehow being sane afterwards was almost laughable. Natalia was a lucky bitch with Sam, and Rose and Leon - well Alex imagined Leon would bounce back well enough.
But the man in front of him… Alex wanted to down a bottle of liquor just thinking about that conversation.
That left lying. A thought which equally made him queasy. Max was pure and sweet and not someone Alex wanted to deceive. The man had been a saint since he’d crashed into Alex’s front lawn. So that left… what? Going on a road trip and accidentally leaving Max behind for a few weeks or months? It wasn’t like the hunters were making quick progress in hunting down the rogue pack.
No, no option was a good one. Even if there was a solid option, Alex didn’t want to be apart from Max. Max was a salve. Hell, maybe even *salvation*. Alex’s head drifted off way too often thinking about it. Yet, he wouldn’t voice it. The last time he’d opened up, he’d ended up with a child he didn’t know about months later. Not that that was physically possible in this situation but Alex couldn’t stomach scaring him off. Or, somehow winding up with a second kid. Christ, he was barely managing with the one.
They could just be friends.
That’s how Alex was rationalising it. Good, close, personal buddies.
Maybe he was spending too much time with Leon. Which, oh man, fuck, if he was becoming like his little sister’s best friend he was in so much trouble. And way less cooler than he thought himself to be.
He took silent note of Max’s reactions - frowns and head shakes, each one fuelling Alex to get Max to smile more and more. To relax. Nothing bad was going to happen (in the context of in the park right now, forgetting the horrors that Beacon Hills possessed for just a moment). He wanted to whisper it to him constantly. He had half a thought to record a voice note of him saying just that mixed in with the sounds of the ocean or forests and convince Max to listen to it at night for the hopes of silently (well, verbally, actually) hypnotising him.
Alex imagined it going something like: Hey good looking, hope you’re sleeping like a babe right now. Okay time for our manifestations, number one, I look sexy as always, number two, I am a good person and friend, number three, thank God I don’t snore otherwise Alex would have kicked me out weeks ago. That’s an encouragement to your brain, Max, to not snore…
A smile graced his lips as Max stole a glance into the bag but Alex wouldn’t push the present too much. He had quickly grown used to Max’s hesitancies and barriers. Half of the time he gently pushed against them but he never wanted to be too insistent. He had to rail himself in. Being around Max was mellowing him out.
“Regretfully, yes,” Alex said, forcing his face to look somber at the thought as he pushed a weary sigh through his lips, “I used to fake injuries during games to go for a quick make out session under the bleachers but, probably too old for that now.” Alex added, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck before he cracked a laugh and threw Max a wink. Always so damn flirtatious. “It’ll be better with you there.” Alex finalised, always wanting to give Max that extra reassurance that Alex wanted him around. That he was wanted. He wouldn’t clarify - to Max or himself - whether that comment alluded to them making out under the bleachers or not.
Dropping his hand, Alex tried to keep quiet as Max studied the contents of the bag again. He could pick out the quiet thank you, ears accustomed to listening out for the softest of cracks and snaps after spending countless nights in the preserve growing up. Training to be something he could never tell the man in front of him about. Thankfully, Max never asked too many questions about what he was up to. When his voice grew louder, Alex couldn’t stop his grinning, pushing his shoulders back and standing to attention. He miraculously kept his mouth shut, holding any jokes back as Max set about putting one of the new sweaters on. He spared half a second to look over at Ellie, always half convinced she would just disappear and he’d fall apart more than he ever had before.
A similar amount to how broken he feared he could be if Max vanished from his life as quickly as he’d arrived.
Fuck nuggets.
His smile was unfairly soft, eyes wide and mushy as Max showed off the jumper. Well, shit, Alex. He’d blame his mom for these feelings 100%. Knowing her, she’d just laugh and say she knew it. But it was hardly fair when Max was looking at him like that. “I’ll paint the whole town that shade of blue because you look so good in it,” Alex responded, nodding enthusiastically. “I mean it, I’ll put a request into the mayor right now.”
Alex smiled for a moment longer before stepping forward and rubbing a hand against Max’s arm, ‘testing the material’ he’d argue. “Yep, good and soft, mom Harper knows her sweaters.” He paused his hand at the top of Max’s shoulder, unable to let go quite yet, “you can thank her after the game on Friday, she’s staying home to watch Ellie.” And, of course, naturally in Alex’s mind he was picturing Max coming back home with him that night.
“But, anyway, food,” Alex declared, breaking contact to dig into his backpack and fish out containers filled with - you guessed it - pie and doughnuts. “I wasn’t feeling savoury when I packed but if you want something not filled with sugar, we can go and get it. It’s no sweat.” Rose and her constant stream of pies was solidifying her as his favourite sibling but if Max wanted something different, Alex was happy to walk around the whole of town.
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Human
Written by Megan.
75 posts.
21 years old.
bi bi bi.
I am Male.
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Post by Maddox Kane on Apr 1, 2023 3:39:40 GMT
If Max was anything, it was perceptive. He caught the shift in tension, the paling color in Alex’s cheeks, and the way his shoulders grew taut for a moment too long. His eyes flicked across Alex’s face and body, reading him quickly before he found his shoes suddenly incredibly interesting. When he wiggled his toes, he could see his mismatched socks peeking through the holes torn around the edges of the canvas sneakers. What had he done wrong? It was because of him that his friend had grown uncomfortable suddenly, wasn’t it? Of course it was, it was always his fault. Max brought his hands together in front of him, thumbs circling round and round each other as they hung joined by his hips. Nerves. Of course, he was nervous. What did he do? Alex seemed to have moments like this, moments where he looked pained and worried, around Max more and more often. He swallowed, peeking up through his bangs to watch a smile carve its way across Alex’s lips and his shoulders droop. It was always fleeting, but Max caught it, nonetheless.
If Max was anything more than perceptive, it was terrified. He would never bring it up, never let his observations mix with the cool air around them. He couldn’t, wouldn’t. It wasn’t in his nature. He always saw, always clocked on to what the people around him were feeling but couldn’t do anything to change it. He’d always known when his stepfather was going to touch him, could feel the static buzzing in the apartment’s muggy atmosphere. He’d curl in tight on himself, make himself as small and undesirable as he could. It never changed the outcome. He couldn’t fight, he couldn’t beg. He stayed silent now as he did then, waiting for the pain.
He didn’t want to think Alex would hurt him, but…
No. He wouldn’t. Max knew that. If he was going to, he would have already. He’s just been, he’s been busy. Something is bothering Alex and that must be what’s on his mind now. Maybe he could ask Sam? He didn’t think he’d ever be able to. It was a miracle all in its own that he was able to accept the slim possibility of a separate entity as the cause for Alex’s distress.
Max calmed with the soft sound of Alex’s bright voice, lifting his head and offering a shy smile to his explanation. It faltered slightly at the wink, wavering on his lips before twisting into a bashful press of lips. He didn’t grasp innuendos very well, most jokes going right over his head, but something in the way Alex had spoken to him now had his stomach churning and mind whirring. He didn’t think that he was being invited under the bleachers, but he couldn’t stop his mind from drifting in that direction.
It had been so long since he’d thought about something like that, since he’d done anything like that.
He hadn’t been touched, hadn’t touched, since his Kansas girl. How long ago had that been now? He couldn’t recall.
Max had never kissed another man (he didn’t count his stepfather as a man, no man would do what he had done). He thinks he would like it if Alex did, if he closed the gap between them and sealed his soft lips against Max’s chapped ones. Would Alex like that? Would he—no. Don’t. Alex doesn’t, would never—he can’t feel that way for Max. It’s almost unbelievable that the girl had. Max wasn’t pure, he wasn’t good. He didn’t want to pollute Alex, to poison the young father with the taste of Max’s sin.
He turned his head away slightly, hoping that Alex wouldn’t pay mind to the tint of his cheeks but knowing nothing got past the man.
How could he think such a thing? Where did that come from? Max didn’t… he didn’t crave for people, but his heart yearned so deeply for the man before him. He’d thought nothing of it before, convinced that all of those late nights and those lingering touches and longing looks—he thought… Max didn’t think. No one in their right mind wanted Max. What was he even considering? This was so… so unlike him, so left field.
He pushed all of those nasty, dirty thoughts to the back of his mind, not wanting these (lusting, whorish, filthy, immoral) feelings to ruin the moment any more than he fears it had.
Max was wrong, anyways. He was reading things wrong. He always did.
Besides, he wasn’t built for love or to be loved. It was a foolish train of thought.
“I’m happy to be there then,” he murmured, sounding distracted—not realizing what he may have implied in return. He smoothed his hands down the front of his new sweater, the fabric soft in a way he wasn’t used to feeling on his skin. He still didn’t understand why Alex’s mother had gone out of her way to get him anything, his lip quivering for a moment at the thought of her kindness, but Alex didn’t give him a chance to dribble and weep.
His cheeks were burning, eyes bashful as he peeked up at Alex and shook his head. Always so forward and teasing. Max didn’t quite understand it was flirting. “You wouldn’t,” Max replied, half joking and half worried that Alex would actually do such a thing because, well, it was something he’d actually try to do, “It’s really not necessary.” The sweater was nice enough. Max thinks he’d burst at the seams if Alex did such a grand gesture for him. He wouldn’t know how to handle it.
Wet eyes traced the path Alex’s hand burned down the length of his arm, leaning into his palm and savoring the touch. He didn’t know what it was about Alex that made Max feel so safe—so…so okay. His smile was soft as he tilted his head back to meet Alex’s eye, nodding along with him because he’d go along with anything the man said. It made sense to him that Alex would bring him back home after the game. It had been a while since Max had spent the night. He wonders if Alex hasn’t been sleeping well without him there to soothe Ellie when she woke. “Okay, yeah. That sounds good. Could you tell her I said ‘thank you’ in the meantime? I don’t want her to think I’m ungrateful,” Max voiced, small and nervous and fretting. She was like a prayer answered and he’d like for her to know it.
Alex should really know better, Max thought. In no world, in no situation would he ever raise a fuss over what he was being offered. He would never ask for an alternative. As he spotted the contents within the containers, he couldn’t help but agree with Alex: his sweet tooth was aching too. “This is all good,” he promised, carefully lowering himself onto the bench as if he feared the subtle squeaking of the old metal would wake Ellie, “It’s perfect, really. I promise.” He felt as though he had to reassure Alex that he was okay or the man would go far above and beyond what was socially acceptable to appease poor Max, who would settle for anything. He moved the bag of sweaters to the other side of him with such caution and care, he half expected a laugh from Alex. He smiled up at him once the spot next to him was cleared for him to sit beside him.
The breeze had died down, the chill less invasive now with the heat of Alex smoldering beside him.
"So, pie or donuts first?"
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