She’s tired of the constantly questions, from her friends, her teachers, her guidance counselor, it’s exhausting, she knows no matter how many times she tells them she’s fine, don’t worry about it, it’s a lie, and they can tell. Everyone can see through the mask that’s fading, how she slips further away from everyone she loves, because it’s, like, easier that way. She doesn’t want people to worry; doesn’t deserve it, not when she was a coward who watched her brother die in front of her, frozen in place, he saved her; saved El, this stupid town that she hates now. Sometimes late at night, when she can’t sleep, when the nightmares keep her awake, she wishes that it had been her instead.
Max doesn’t mean for the words to come out as harsh; she knows Lucas cares; that he just wants her to be her again, but she doesn’t know if that version of Max even exists any more, part of her gone that day with Billy. She shrugs, he’s right, they were friends first before anything, El’s words play over in her head friends don’t lie - she wasn’t exactly lying, just withholding some things. “𝙰𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚎? 𝚂𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜?” she sighs heavy, fingers gripping tight to the straps of her backpack, a tightness in her chest, guilt for the way she’s treated him, Lucas didn’t deserve it, sure he could be a dumb ass, but he had a good heart. Eyes blink closed, trying too hard not to fall apart in front of him.
She can’t even look up at him right now, not when tears threaten to fall, knuckles white from how hand her hands are gripping at her backpack. “𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚒𝚝 - 𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚒𝚝.” Dammit Max, tears forming in the corners of her eyes, blinking rapid to stop them from falling. “𝙸'𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝙸 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝙸'𝚖 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚕, 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍, 𝚒𝚝 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 – 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚜.”
Pain was the only reading that Lucas could get from Max. He had once thought that he knew her so well. Despite agreeing with mike that women were a different species, she at least was someone he understood, someone who he could be vulnerable with. “Of course we’re still friends,” he paused. Things were changing so fast with school, his jersey now putting him in a different social group away from his friends in the hellfire club who were constantly teased. He didn’t want to be bullied again like they had been in middle school. Sue that placed him in circles with Troy Walsh and James Dante but if it meant not getting teased he didn’t care. “At least- I’d like us to still be.” His eyes pleading for her not to push him away. He wished she would still call him a stalker, to call him a creep, to say something that showed him that she noticed he was still there.
“Hey,” he stepped forward seeing her vulnerability. Thankfully the hallway was emptying with people rushing off to their classes. His coach was probably going to kill him if he was late but Max was more important than running a few extra laps at practice. “You don’t have to pretend.” He placed his hand on her shoulder even when he wanted to pull her into his arms. “I know what happened. I was there.” He just reminded her that she wasn’t alone. It was the rest of Hawkins that was being told it was just a mall fire, his fireworks helping with that theory. “You’ve never had to pretend with me.” He thought back to the time they were on top of that school bus, lives being threatened again. How she had said that she liked talking to him. His throat choking up a bit he took a calming breath. “We don’t have to act like everything is okay, alright. I just-” he looked down at her. “I just want to know that you’re okay. Or that you will be.”
2087
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