lost boy

Max Cain, 27. Firefighter residing in Belmont Boulevard. I am the god of running away and making it look beautiful.

[fayethekind-blog]

Hope was feeling just the same strange aura as Max - but for a different reason. This was a seemingly nice guy who seemed like he was genuinely interested in her and was asking her opinion on their date. This was definitely different, but maybe it was also a good sign. Besides, worse comes to worse he turned out like all the others and she at least got a free night out from him. 

Even if secretly, even to herself, she was hoping that this wasn’t the case.

Whether it was this good kind of strange that was making Max’s nervousness harder and harder for her to detect or if he was just hiding it better, but nevertheless Hope was now smiling wide against the screen of her phone and not worrying if he warning had actually came off with the slight hint of a genuine tone like she had meant it to. No instead she enjoyed the moment’s quality of happiness as they teased back and forth, planning a nice next or at least the bare basics of it. She choose not to dwell on might become of the connections.

She found Max funny, even his rather cheesy impression of those old game show hosts from the eighties which earned him a hearty giggle. “The trying man, huh? Well if you’re the trying man then you might just be up for the job,” she said a smile clearly on her face in contrast to the embarrassment she couldn’t see. She agreed to telling him her address and let him know that her doorman should let him on in - she reminded herself that she would need to tell Eddie that she had a date if she didn’t want a worried phone call about a strange man requesting to be buzz up to her apartment from her well-meaning but sometimes nosey doorman.

“I’ll see you then,” she said as a way of goodbye before hanging up the phone.

END.

[ezralarsen-blog]

AT LEAST NOW WE’RE SOBER / EZRA & MAX --- @maximiliancain

This is how Ezra’s writing job works. As a freelancer, looking for an event to organize wasn’t easy. Agents had to reach him, get him to meet with a client, agree on a script, and present an idea of the event’s concept. Talent fee was a difficult discussion too; clients tend to demand a lot they’re not willing to pay for. Strict with the budget, but hard to please. Those were Ezra’s least favourite clients. Unfortunately, his current client was one of them.

So when an agent of that company called him and offered him this job, Ezra couldn’t say no. Even if he wanted to. His thirst for a challenge trumped his better judgment, as usual. Besides, this client gave him enough freedom to come up with the venue, the program, the hosts.. Ezra was pretty much given full-control of this project. All he had to do was make a kick-ass presentation out of it. He has to win this project —the talent fee was huge, for christ’s sake. Huge enough to keep 50% of it in his savings account and the other 50% to take care of his bills. He wasn’t going to let this pass. So after a few hours of brainstorming, he decided to contact the only person he knew in the Nashville Firehouse: Max.

Max Cain. Ezra’s friendship with Max had a weird start. They were drunk when the friendship was made; and even now, Ezra was still unaware that Max had slept on his couch that night. That aside, he had also discovered that this man he met in the nightclub happens to be the same Max Cece has mentioned once or twice before. It took him that awkward scenario in the bakery, when Max pretended he didn’t know him, to suspect that Max had a thing for Cece. But thanks to the serious conversations he had with him and Cece individually last Spring Festival, Ezra was finally cleared of that suspicion. Now he’s peaceful with the misled thought that he’s meeting up with a friend —his girlfriend’s friend, because he needed something from him. He needed to know the protocols in the firehouse from a firefighter’s perspective. That way, Ezra would understand the necessary segments he needed to add into the Fire Prevention Event program. And that firefighter is Max.

Looking at his wristwatch, it was almost lunchtime. Or, okay, it was way past 12. Ezra had a reputation of always running late when he doesn’t use his car (damned starter was faulty again). When he reached the firehouse, he was relieved that Max was nowhere to be seen. At least he didn’t keep the man waiting. He isn’t waiting, is he?

Ezra took out his phone and texted Max, “Here now, man. Please tell me you haven’t left the firehouse yet and went to lunch because I’m late.”

[maximiliancain-blog]

Maximilian Cain had been a pitiful thing next to a man named Ezra Larsen and his best friend Cecilia Sweeten. He had been a pitiful thing, something to the likes of a fifth grader with a fifth grader crush on someone who would never see him the way he saw them. Only, the thing was that he wasn’t a fifth grader. The thing was that he had been twenty-six years old when this happened, not twelve. This made it all the more humiliating, all the more pitiful, all the more a blow to his ego. If anything, when he saw Ezra and Cece together on that day in the bakery, he felt quite like a fifth grader whose fifth grader hopes and dreams had been crushed. Only, of course, worse. Again, he had been twenty-six years old.

But a crush was just a crush, and Max had had plenty before. Oh, he’d had plenty --- plenty of which were never reciprocated, and more which he never acted upon. Maximilian Cain fell so easily to the ways of the world: to meaningful smiles, touching gestures. Just as quickly as he fell in, however, he fell out. If he didn’t get enough affection from a crush, or if he didn’t get anything in return, Max could forget he had a crush to begin with. It was the way of someone whose heart was so sensitive, the way of someone who mistook every ounce of affection or infatuation for love. It was the way of someone like Max Cain. No, it was not healthy. No, it was not right. But, it was the way it was --- for now.

The thing about Ezra Larsen was that he was in love with Max’s best friend Cecilia Sweeten. The thing about Ezra Larsen was that he hadn’t known of Max’s affections for him, and that he would never reciprocate the feelings, and that he would never entertain them. So, with these in mind, Max slowly --- in the last couple of weeks --- got over his crush. It was a work in progress, but it was progress nonetheless. His date with Hope, his conversation with her, and the thought of being with her, surely helped take his mind off a particular Ezra Larsen.

So, it was all good now. It was all good. Max could look at Ezra like he was a normal person instead of someone who meant something to him. For the most part.

As it was, friends helped friends with their projects. And, as it was, Ezra was a friend. So, when he had approached Max and asked for help, Max had been more than willing to help him. Their meeting was set at lunch time, and so Max waited.

He was in the middle of eating lunch with the rest of the firefighters in the station when he got a text from Ezra. As soon as he had read it, Max excused himself from his colleagues and thus went over to the firehouse entrance to meet his friend. There was a smile on his lips when he did. “Hey! No worries!” he said at once. “We eat lunch here anyway, so.”

[wildangelakos-blog]

[hcrlwknight-deactivated20190419]

Minutes. Minutes. Less than twelve, he would have guessed. That’s how long Jimmy had been home. He’d walked in the door, cast dark hues to the piled of boxes strewn across his living room and walking right on by them, trudging through the hall, stripping as he went until the scalding hot water met flesh as he stood beneath the cascading shower. The smell of smoke burned into his nostrils and he knew he wouldn’t be able to breathe in fresh air for at least another three hours, despite the steam freeing his airways. As for the burning exhaustion; the idea of allowing himself to plop down onto his couch; or flop onto the covers of his bed begging him to turn the taps off right then and there. His muscles needed it though; between the gym and his shift, he’d barely had a chance to sit down, which only meant that if he completely ignored the signed of muscle fatigue and bypassed allowing them to simply breathe, he’d wake up feeling sorry for himself tomorrow. 

Ten minutes. Ten minutes had passed since the door had closed behind him when he heard the incessant banging on his front door. An audible groan grew on his lips as he pressed his forehead against the cool wall tiles. “Why, Max.. Why today.” The mumbling didn’t stop him; because for everything it was worth; Jimmy liked Max. He liked the blundering idiot for every blundering reason he grated on most other peoples nerves. Which suddenly, he understood as his name rang out loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear. Rolling his eyes, James slipped from the shower, picking up a pair or questionably clean sweats on the way back through his house, pulling up entirely short as Max let himself in. A dark brow ached, a rough hand raked through wet hair as he shook his head. “Everyone in my street is going to think we’re having a lovers quarrel now; you couldn’t have waited ten more second to be let in, like a normal human being?” 

Hypothetically speaking, Jimmy could have been a little quicker in answering the door. The urgency of Max’s knuckles rapping against his front door should have kicked him into gear, but he knew better than most that if it was serious, the tone in the others voice would have been much different. Something he’d experienced a handful of times while working together. 

James wasn’t even sure if Max had allowed any air to find it’s way to his lungs and with one large step forward, his hand closed over the other’s mouth. “Stop. Breathe. Before I knock the rest of the air from your lungs myself.” With that, he took a step back, giving himself a moment to go over everything Max had rambled out to him in five seconds flat. “You have a date. Not the end of the world… Possibly the end of the world. — And no, I’m not putting on a shirt. I’m not distracting you from shit, did you listen to yourself? That was the furthest thing from distraction.” He said pointedly, through the slight smirk to his lips indicated clearly enough that he was joking. Realistically, Jimmy had no idea why he was smiling – or more importantly why Max thought it best to come see him about it. The last date he’d been on, real date, had been years ago, before he’d proposed to Kimberley. Were dates even classed as dates if most of them were spent talking about wedding details? The mere thought of it made his stomach turn. “I have seen her. Several times a week since I’ve been here even.” He added, “I know she’s beautiful, which only makes me wonder what the hell she’s doing going out with you.”

Surprisingly, the idea of Hope going out with anyone bothered him. It was purely platonic of course; the only romantic feelings his body held still burned like wildfire for his ex wife; but Hope deserved a lot. It was never what she wanted; the girl could most definitely be demanding, and as spoilt as she was; handed everything she wanted; it was never quite what she needed. Even more surprising, the idea of her going on a date with Max, bothered him even less than the umpteen amount of times she’d mentioned other guys before. His confession, however, pulled a light scowl to his face. “– Jac.. You went on a date with your ex girlfriend..” He repeated, mostly for his own benefit. “Okay..– You need to start from the beginning, and I need a fucking beer.”

[maximiliancain-blog]

For all the words that Jimmy gave him, for all the snark and for all the crap, Max knew that he could trust the man. All their time on the field, in the face of emergencies, and in front of death, had proven this. If Max were to go in a burning building and not come out in proper time, he knew that Jimmy --- as with anyone else in the fire station --- would be one of those people who’d rush right in and help him out. All the time they’d spent together, all the little conversations, and all the inside jokes, were enough for Max. Some would say this was in bad taste, as no one should trust everyone they worked with; but Max was Max, and he trusted Jimmy all the same. Their time together had proven that he was an all right man --- not a perfect one, but then again, neither was Max.

So, to stand there and to hear Jimmy give him crap was no big deal to Max. To stand before his friend and to hear the man require some sense out of Max through his blundering was, if anything, ideal. It helped Max sort himself together, even if only a little bit, as he knew that the other would not coddle him and pat him on the back for going through a problem so petty. Jimmy’s words helped Max pull himself together, even if only for the meantime, before he would speak again. Though he was in too much of a dilemma to joke back fully, he did roll his eyes at Jimmy’s words. He paced around his friend’s home as he did though, so how effective the eye roll was in showing Jimmy that his words were not funny might not have shown itself to the fullest potential. Still, when Max spoke, there was only but a hint of a teasing tone. “I thought we were lovers, and these girls are our beards,” he said, “also, just because she’s not going out with you doesn’t mean you have to be jealous of me now.”

A small, nervous chuckle left Max at this. The truth of his words dawned on him then as he said them --- not the part about Jimmy being jealous of him, no. (If Max were Jimmy and Jimmy were Max, there would be no way Max would be jealous of Jimmy. This was besides the point, though.) Rather, the part about Hope going out with him. All the things that Hope had said --- that about him being worth a shot, that about her being hard to please ---, and all the things that Max knew --- mostly, that Hope was way out of his league --- repeated themselves in his head like a broken record. And he was a tired disk player who no longer wanted his mind to play the same thing. Jimmy’s last words about him needing a beer only made Max nod, and so he followed his friend into the kitchen and waited before they had something to drink before explaining.

His words came after a deep breath.

Max was Max, and when his mouth ran, his mouth ran. Once he had started talking, there was no stopping him --- except, maybe, for the one or two comments and quips that Jimmy inserted here and there, all of which Max shushed him in response. He reeled the story back a few weeks ago, to when he and Jac first reunited through a blind date; and then moved onto the phone call, how he explained he would make it up to her; and then talked about their time at the festival together, though very briefly, as he wanted the memories to himself. But he didn’t speak of the present situation with Jac, of how he visited her at work and brought her flowers and food. He didn’t speak of that, but instead went to the topic of Hope and how he really liked her, and how he wanted to have the most perfect date, and how he didn’t know what to do.

By the end of it, Max was staring at Jimmy, more relaxed and more at ease than he had been when he first entered through the Jimmy’s door. “So,” he said, and he lengthened the o, “that didn’t sound nearly as stressful as I thought it was. I mean, Jac and I are just friends, so. But I still need help on where I can take Hope. You’re friends with her, right? Where do you think she’d like to go?” Now that Max was more level-headed, he could think about this as well.

[fayethekind-blog]

Like Max, Hope believed in love.  Maybe not for the same reasons, but she did definitely believe in it. After all, it was hard not to when your parents were regularly seen as the most in love couple in Nashville and she was both pleased and disgusted that it wasn’t all an act for the cameras to keep investments high or promote record sales. So yes, Hope believed in love but she wasn’t too sure if she would ever find it.

Due to her forementioned awful luck with love, she was used to the men she choose to go out with letting her down. Some would talk all night about themselves, some would stare at the waitress’ breasts and insist on giving a tip that was far more than the ten percent that Hope already struggled with and some committed the ultimate sin - bad in the sack. The ones who did manage to get a second date usually were gone by the time a few more came around. 

So Max may have appeared different, but nothing was confirmed yet. He could still screw up the date - although she found herself secretly hoping that he wouldn’t.

If Hope had known how her date was feeling, a sense of awe mixed with deep fear, she would have been a very happy girl indeed. Those were exactly the kind of emotions that girls like her grew up wanting to inspire. Ask her and she would have said that it was completely valid to feel that way - she was a hard girl to please, but feeling that way would mean that he wanted to impress her, that he cared about impressing her and that could only be a good start to any potential they had to be together.

“Well then you’ve seem to have a pretty good grasp on me, I don’t cry over boys,” She stated with a small grin on her face at his words, “Well it’s nice to see that station has a smart firefighter. Believe me, I’m not the girl you call after ignoring for weeks, not if you want a date anyway.” She liked his reaction, gave her a taste of what he was feeling. “You should be a little bit of both,” she confirmed before reassuring, “Just keep thinking that way and you might even plan the perfect date.” She could tell he was nervous even without seeing him, it was evident in his voice, but her words were true - his fear of disappointing her could mean that he pulled through…of course it could also mean he failed miserably but she decided not to kick a man while he was down.

She scrawled the details in her planner as she too let off a little laugh, the ‘m’ of 8PM going just little crooked at her momentary lasp of concentration. “Yeah, if you’re going on a date with me there had better be no sneezing in food,” she teased.

When Max said he didn’t have a date planned it didn’t worry Hope, as long as he had it planned before 8PM on the date they’d set then it was of no concern to her. “That works perfectly, though I warn you that you had better think hard about this - I’ve been told I can be a little difficult to please,” she warned with a chuckle.

[maximiliancain-blog]

It was strange: the more Max heard Hope speak on the other end of the line, the more excited he became, but also the more nervous. The last dates he had been on --- the ones he’d really taken seriously --- had happened all eight to nine years ago, and he’d been nothing but a boy without goals then, with a girl who had needed his love, his affection. It was nothing like this. It was nothing about a man trying to prove himself still worthy of love --- or, in any case, affection ---, and a woman who knew she was lovable and worthy. It was nothing like this: eight to nine years in the future, with another woman he hadn’t ever expected to be seen with. So, perhaps, it was not so strange at all that he was excited and nervous. Perhaps that wasn’t what was strange at all about this.

It was something else, then. It was something else, something seated in Max’s heart that he wouldn’t dare admit. It was something else, something to do with the fact that eight to nine years ago, he had imagined Jac and him to still be standing. Together. Not apart. Together. At that moment in time, when he was eighteen and young and foolish, nothing had been concrete. Not his days, not his jobs, not his living spaces, and not his friendships. But, through all that, Jac had been. Jac had been his constant, his everything --- and, in his youth, he had imagined that she would always be. So, to be here now, eight to nine years later, asking another woman out on a date, was strange. The whole thing was strange.

But strange didn’t mean bad, nor did it mean wrong. The only thing that would have been bad and wrong was if Max allowed himself to live in a version of the past that didn’t exist anymore. The only thing that would have been bad and wrong was if he allowed himself to be whisked away by his fantasies when he was eighteen years old. He’d move on now, as had Jac. They’d both moved on from one another, and from whom they used to be. If Max didn’t give hope a chance--- No, if he didn’t give himself a chance with Hope, then who would? Would he be forever stuck in the past, a past that no longer existed, a past that could not be brought back? Yes, it was strange that he felt these things, but, as Max always did, he pushed them to the back of his mind and swore to keep them there.

The good thing was that as Hope spoke, Max was getting to know more about her. In their short conversation back at the ice bucket booth, he had gotten to know enough to ask her out on a date. Now that they spoke again, he was getting to know more about what kind of date he could take her on. Her words, if anything, put a smile on his lips, and gave him a strong sense of determination to be exactly the perfect date she was worthy of. The last of her words --- the warning --- did make Max more nervous than he was, but he shrugged the feeling off with a chuckle before he responded to Hope.

“No sneezing, perfect date, 8 PM,” he said as though he were ticking off a checklist. “I will make sure to deliver, and to make it something you won’t forget. In a good way, of course.” Max chuckled again. “And ah --- hard to please? Just call me… the trying man. I may not be Superman, but I will try my best to be.” How uncool his words sounded made Max shake his head with a laugh, though he knew that Hope could very well only hear him. “But I’m serious, though. I’ll give my best, try my best. At least, you know, I had this chance.” A smaller chuckle left him, and he contemplated whether or not to continue speaking before he finally concluded to say a simple thing. “Thank you, really. For the chance. God knows I don’t get that many,” he said, his tone genuine, “and I will see you soon, so text me your address, and get ready for one of the best nights of your life.”

The words, sounding much like a TV show host, made Max put a palm to his face in embarrassment.

[maximiliancain-blog]

Text ✉ Ezra & Max

Ezra: Nice touch on the Nashville III now my ridiculous greek name sounds noble.

Ezra: THANKS MAXIMILIAN. NOW WE BOTH HAVE FANCY NAMES.

Ezra: How much of an ass??? Is he a strict chief? If he's nothing we can't handle then we should be fine, right? LOLOLOLOL HOw many drinks did you have?? I feel like our talk there was cut short we should go get beer later, ya feel?

Max: nobility at its very core... i like it, ezrapidicus of nashville III

Max: just.. an ass.... not even the cute kind of ass like mine..... it's a tragedy.... I DIDN'T COUNT i promise i'm not always drunk tho... only sometimes... and sure!!! we can get a beer after your work writing thing!!

[maximiliancain-blog]

Text ✉ Ezra & Max

Ezra: BECAUSE IT'S A MOUTHFUL!!! I wish I had a long-assed name too. Something like Ezrapidicus.

Ezra: Ew. Forget I said that or I'll call you Maximilian forever.

Ezra: LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL I don't know the fire chief but thanks for the warning!! Whatever. A little tour won't hurt anyone. I'm doing him a favor anyway with what I'm working on. AnYWAY, thanks for the other day! I mean the night after the fair. Did you stay behind?

Max: ezrapidicus...........................

Max: Ezrapidicus of Nashville III

Max: sounds fancy!!

Max: OMG he is an ass!!!! Don't look him in the eye he might turn you into stone!! And no problem?? No need to thank me!! I did stay much longer after you and Cece left but I was not designated driver !!

[maximiliancain-blog]

Text ✉ Ezra & Max

Ezra: Well now I do. Didn't know Max was short for something. I thought your name was Max alone??

Ezra: Oh shit, really? You're okay with it? I mean, I might have to take up too much of your time, man. Will u still be available after lunch?

Max: no OMG!! My name is fancy but no one calls me it!!

Max: Yes ofc! why wouldn't I be okay with it?? And sure, just talk to the fire chief I'm sure he could make some time up in that head of his (even though it's stuck far up his ass, but what can you do???)

[maximiliancain-blog]

Text ✉ Ezra & Max

Ezra: DON'T JOKE LIKE THAT!!! My heart dropped! But yes this is Ezra Larsen texting Maximilian Cain right??

Ezra: It's for a fire prevention event n I was planning on putting our firehouse in my proposal presentation. Im gon need your help with the protocols and shit like that Max, I have to win this project u're my hope, man

Max: oh my god!! no one calls me maximilian!!!

Max: Oh.. that sounds interesting!! will be there to help you, definitely :D

[fayethekind-blog]

Max’s rambling may have annoyed some people, it may have even annoyed Hope had it been somebody else, but she wasn’t used to boys rambling over her and she liked his nervousness. He wasn’t sure of himself, was scared that she would reject him - a far cry from the one word answers she was used to from the confident boarding on cocky men that usually called her within a few hours of getting her number, absolutely positive that she wouldn’t reject them and couldn’t fathom that she may just have other plans that didn’t include them. Max was not the type of man she was used to, but with a little practice she might be able to get used to him.

Provided he passed the check-list that every first date had to pass.

Notoriously high maintenance from before she could grasp the concept, Hope was a hard girl to please. She’d grown up dining at the best restaurants, discovered the greatest clubs in her teenage years and had expensive tastes in almost every aspect of life known to man. First date could give her the princess experience and he would still fail, her whole life was the princess experience. No, for any chance at having a serious relationship with Hope a man would have to make her feel like a princess in his emotional treatment towards her. Since there was yet a man to grasp the secret to Hope’s happiness she was yet to have a serious relationship.

Still she tried to give everybody a fair chance and just because Max was not the usual suspect did not mean that her scrutiny of him would be any more or less.

Hope rolled her eyes at his words despite knowing that he couldn’t see her. The idea of a girl like her waiting by the phone for a man was ludicrous in her eyes, but then again Max didn’t know what kind of girl she was. That’s what first dates were for.

“The only reason I know that it has been three days is because I have been busy, if I had been sat at home with tears filling empty ice-cream cartons then the days would have been lengthen and I would have thought you’d been putting me off for weeks,” she said matter-of-fact, after all she’d seen it done a million time with girls who she now considered far too weak to be friends. Still her voice had a certain teasing edge and it came back fully as she said, “And you were actually the only guy I gave my number too. I got a few more, but I only ever give my number out to the ones who have a shot.”

She made her way through her sitting room and into her kitchen to check her trusty calender, usually filled with events, once again giving an action that required sight as she nodded when taking in his words. She had the next night free, but she doubt he would be over a cold by then and she commented, “Another perk to not doing the ice bucket challenge - I’m completely fine.” She ran her finger across the dates, full of plans until she came across a rare week which was blank the majority of days. “How do you feel about the first week of April?” she asked, pen ready in her hand to write down any details.

[maximiliancain-blog]

There was a certain routine to the way Max searched for love. It consisted of the bar, of getting just a tad bit tipsy, and of sleeping with the next person that paid attention to him. It consisted of waking up the next morning in a bed that was not his own, leaving his number on the bedside table, and waiting for calls that sometimes came and sometimes didn’t. It consisted of being unsure, of throwing things up into the air and wondering whether any of it would make sense once they came down. It consisted of the uncertainty that came with not knowing what love was supposed to mean anymore, and the certainty that love was no longer a force that could come his way. Max believed in love if only because he had once experienced it with a young woman who would have given him the world if he asked, but he just wasn’t sure if it was something he could experience anymore.

This was not to say that he loved Hope. This was not to say that he could love her. Hell, they hardly knew each other. All he knew about her was that she had pretty eyes and pretty lips, and a life he probably could not afford, what with the way of Henderson Records; all she knew about him was that he was a firefighter who stammered and rambled and tripped over his own words. These grounds were hardly enough for anyone to love another. If they were, then Max would have come to the conclusion that he was unlovable, for who dared love a guy who could not even so much as form a coherent sentence at the sight of a pretty girl? No, Max did not love Hope, and he did not know whether he could love her. But the thing was that their way of meeting, their way of coming together, was already special to him. It was different. It deviated from the path he usually took to search for love.

And, if anything, this scared him.

Inside him was fear --- but there was awe, too. Awe for Hope. Awe that there was hope with Hope to begin with. Awe that she was still talking to him, despite everything he’d showed. But, beneath all these, there was confusion and question. At his very core, perhaps, this was what Max was. This confusion and question did not only go so far as to refer to the date at hand. It did not only ask what kind of date Max would take Hope on, though this was certainly a big question in his head. No, it asked for what kind of date he liked. It asked for what kinds of date he knew how to give. And, most of all, it asked whether he could love anyone the way he loved Jac. It had been so long, so long since he’d experienced any of these: since he’d considered taking a girl out on a serious date in the hopes that things might get more serious.

If only Max could push away these thoughts! If only Max could hide these thoughts in the back of his mind! Though he listened to Hope on the other end of the line, chuckled at all the proper times, and nodded at all the right spaces, he thought of the fear, the awe, the confusion, the question. Max was glad that Hope could not see him in that moment.

“I never pegged you as the kind of girl who would cry over a guy,” Max said, “but I couldn’t put you off for weeks! I couldn’t do that!” There was something else on the tip of Max’s tongue, but it left and was replaced by a bashful smile when he was told that he’d been the only one worth a shot. A small, in-awe kind of laughter left him. (And then, after, a cough.) “I’m--- I don’t know whether to feel honored or afraid you think I’m worth the shot. I hope I can live up to the hype, but I’m no Superman. I’ll try my best, though, really. I’m ah --- I  hope you don’t regret your decision.” Max gave a nervous chuckle at this, and rubbed the nape of his neck though Hope could not see. “First week of April. Got it. I will be healed by then. I will tell my body to be healed, because I cannot miss out on this date.” A small laugh escaped him.

A pause came from him, though. After a moment, however, he finally came to the truth. “I have to think of a date good enough, I must admit,” he told Hope. “I mean --- I haven’t been on a date in years!” Jac didn’t count, Jac didn’t count, Jac didn’t count --- over and over again, Max told himself this. “But just think of it as a surprise date, maybe? What’s a good time for you? I was thinking maybe sometime around the evening? 8 PM maybe?”

[oatanas]

If Jacqueline Sanford and Maximillian Cain were still eighteen years old– or even still the same people that they had been then, now– Jac certainly would have known what day it was. She would have called off of work for the day and encouraged him to do the same. There would have been too many balloons and streamers, confetti and cake because in Jac’s eyes birthdays were the most important of days, and at eighteen years old Max’s birthday was her favourite birthday (besides, maybe, her own). But, they were not eighteen years old nor were they the same people they had been at eighteen. More importantly, they weren’t together. She was not his girlfriend and he was not her boyfriend; they were just scraping out of being acquaintances and into friendly territory. So, of course, Jac had no reason to believe that today, of all days, was special and instead it was simply another X on the calendar and day shift at the hospital.

While it may have been just another normal day for Jacqueline Sanford, it was a busy normal day. A very busy one, actually. In stark contrast to the long, dragging night shifts that she had been on the previous week, the day shifts for the week had been full of blood tests, throat swabs and traumas. A car accident had been in earlier in the day and as a result there had been chaos in the emergency room. Jac and the other nurses had spent the better part of the last five hours running all over the hospital and making sure that the correct tests were being done for the correct patients, and that files were all kept up to date to ensure that no detail, no matter how small, was left out so that each patient would have the best shot at recovery— and they did, luckily, all have a good shot. It had been a non-fatal accident with (mostly) minor injuries and for that Jac was beyond thankful.

Beyond thankful and very tired, if she was being honest. They had been so busy that before she knew what was happening, it was almost time to clock out. And it was with that realization that it set in on her just how long it had been since she or any of her peers had taken a break. It dawned on her how good her bed sounded, and she was counting down the seconds until she could clock out, speed home and collapse into her bed with Ghost for a much needed snooze. During this mental countdown, the last person to cross her mind would have been Max. In fact, the cough behind her hadn’t even registered until she heard his voice. Turning to face him, a bright smile worked its way onto her features, the fatigue that she had been previously feeling melting into the back of her mind, almost long forgotten.

This would not be the first time that Max had shown up at the hospital to see her– or at least, that would be the case if that had been the reason he was there. She hated the tiny pang of disappointment that had seeped into her at those words– she hated it and because of that she would not acknowledge it, instead pushing the feeling into the far corners of her mind. “You caught me,” she laughed, shrugging her shoulders, hands stuffed into the pockets of her scrub top. “And I really thought I was being sneaky about it, too. I’ll have to reevaluate my technique when it comes to following people.” Jac’s voice was light, a joking tone lacing every word.

It was a half second later that his words truly sunk in on her and she found a small stone of worry sinking into her stomach. If he wasn’t at the hospital to see her, what was he doing there? It wasn’t exactly somewhere people went to have fun— in fact, it was the opposite. Eyebrows furrowing together for a split second, she took a minute to look him over for any obvious indicators as to what he was doing there. There hadn’t been any alert to any fire calls going out and considering Max was standing – smiling, even– and seemed to be in decent shape, Jac scraped the idea of him being injured. Instead, she took note of the slightly pale, sickly colour to his skin and gave him a sympathetic smile.

“Everything alright?” Pulling a pager out of her scrub pocket, she stole a glance at it before clicking it back into stand by mode and looking back up at Max. “You look almost as pale as I do on a normal day,” she commented, poking fun at her fair complexion. “Have you seen the doctor yet? I can page him if you’ve been waiting long.”

[maximiliancain-blog]

It wasn’t all supposed to have meaning. Nothing was supposed to have meaning. When you were a man who had broken up with your then-girlfriend, a person you once believed to be the love of your life, nothing was supposed to have meaning. When several years passed between you and said then-girlfriend turned ex-girlfriend, her smile wasn’t supposed to mean something. It wasn’t supposed to light you up, nor was it supposed to make you smile right back as though every bad thing that had just happened to your day did not matter. Her laughter wasn’t supposed to nag at your insides as what might be your new favorite sound. Her presence wasn’t something you looked for, something you stuck around. Nothing was supposed to mean anything --- and, if you were this man, you would know this deep within your heart.

Yet, there Maximilian Cain was. Though he knew, he knew, he knew, within his heart that nothing was supposed to mean anything, he stood in front of Jac with a smile on his lips as though every bad thing that had happened to his day did not matter. He stood there holding meaning to things that should not have meant anything, holding meaning to things he’d long forgotten. One could not go so far as to say that Jac’s smile and Jac’s laughter meant everything to Max. This was not the case. He fell so easily for others, yes, but refused to with Jac because of the history they shared, the past they had. But, it could not be denied either that they did mean something. Something. He didn’t know what.

In that moment, Max deduced that this something was a friendly something. They were hardly strangers now, after all; they, if anything, had never been just strangers. With the past that they held and everything that came with it, they were never meant to be just strangers. But, maybe, they could be friends. Just friends. After the time they’d spent at the fair together, Max could say they entered friendly territory again. Their initial inhibitions --- that which had been so painful and obvious on their blind date --- were gone now. They were able to joke around one another, not as though nothing had happened, but as though they were fine with what had. So, it made sense that this something was a friendly something. It made sense that whatever it was that Max felt was nothing more than just that.

With him there right in front of Jac, there was little time to think about any of these things. There was only time to smile a smile and laugh a laugh, none to think or ruminate over thoughts that did not make sense to him now. So, he smiled. So, he laughed. With his laughter came a coughing fit, but he made sure to cover his mouth as he did. He shook his head as he did, and after which, said, “Damn it, Jac! Don’t you know? You have to be more stealthy when you follow people. Duh. You don’t follow them to their workplace!” Max gave a small chuckle, though at his ex-girlfriend’s question as to whether or not he was all right and at her offer to page a doctor, he shook his head again.

“I’m fine!” he said at once, before she could call for anybody on the pager. “I’m fine, really! Just a cough that came with a cold, but cold’s mostly gone now. Cough stayed, so I got myself checked. Don’t worry!” Max offered a comforting smile. However, the smile quickly turned from a comforting one to a knowledgeable one as he squinted at Jac and reached for something in his back pocket.

When Max had pulled out his wallet, he spoke. “Also --- I didn’t lie. I didn’t plan to see you today, but on the off chance”---he gave a small chuckle----”that I figured I might, I made you this.” For a moment, he tore his gaze away from Jac to pull out the green origami paper crane that he had spent three hours --- and more than three trials --- making last night when he had gotten tired of staying in bed and eating soup. It wasn’t the best, Max knew, and  especially not now that it’d been folded in his wallet, but he’d tried. It was the effort that counted, was it not? “It’s… a birthday present! Because guess what day it is today!” Max offered a wide smile at Jac, but did not wait for her to answer before he spoke again. “It’s mine!”

[maximiliancain-blog]

Text ✉ Ezra & Max

Ezra: P

Ezra: Woop I didn't mean that to be my first text to you ever that was embarrassing

Ezra: ANYWAY YO MAX I hope you're at the firehouse right now because I need your help on this thing I have to write about

Max: new phone who dis

Max: JK!!!

Max: yes i am at the firehouse!! come by at lunch time!! what is it???

[maximiliancain-blog]

LEAD THE WAY / MAX & JIMMY --- @jxmmyatwood

“Jimmy! Jimmy! Jimmy! Open the door!” Max’s voice boomed despite the time of the night. Perhaps he should’ve cared more of the neighbors that would hear him. Perhaps he should have been more considerate. Perhaps he should have been, but he was not. There was an urgency to his knocks on Jimmy’s door --- an urgency that made his next-door neighbor peek out their own door to hush him, and one he hoped his friend would hear. He knocked and he knocked despite the warnings already given him, and he screamed some more when there was no answer to his pursuits. “Jimmy! Jimmy, god damn it! Open the door!”

The truth was that Maximilian Cain, in all his years of not dating, needed help. Such a problem did not require knocks so urgent, knocks like these. With all the other emergencies both Max and Jimmy had faced all throughout their lives with their jobs as firefighters, this was probably should have been the least of his worries. But there was a desperation to Max now. There was a desperation to Max as the day of the date was arriving. And this desperation was what made him knock like this; it was what made him knock on Jimmy’s door at eleven in the evening.

So, when the door finally opened, one could imagine the frantic look on Max’s countenance that greeted Jimmy. It was not the best way to be, really, especially in front of a man who was as playful as Jimmy was. But, at the end of the day, Max knew that if he could run to anybody, if he could come to anybody with problems like these, it was this man before him. It was anyone in the station, really --- save for, maybe, the fire chief, especially after their last run-in ---, but he and Jimmy were closer to one another and not just in proximity. So, there Max was, and he’d let himself in before Jimmy could say anything.

“Okay, so,” he began, “I have a dilemma. As was obvious by the knocks.” Max gave a small shrug, a small chuckle. “I’m going out? On a date? An actual date? With Hope Henderson. Pretty girl. Pretty eyes. You should see her, really. She’s… beautiful. But, anyway, I told her that I haven’t been on a date in years, but ha! Guess who lied? Me. Me! Because, fun fact, remember that blind date I went on weeks ago? Ha! It was with Jac! As in Sanford. As in my ex-girlfriend Jac Sanford. Anyway. So, I lied to this pretty girl because somehow I couldn’t tell her I went on a date with my ex-girlfriend. And --- I’m --- go put a shirt on, god. You’re distracting me.”

[fayethekind-blog]

Contrasting to Max’s belief Hope did believe in luck, it as hard not to when you grew up with somebody who contributed her whole success to luck. Her luck that it had been raining, that her father hadn’t lifted an umbrella that night, her luck that she had been up on that stage singing. However, while she believed in luck she had also believed that she hadn’t needed luck in her life so far. Everything had been provided for her as a consequence of her parents’ luck and that had meant that she had always been a little indifferent to her own.

Sure some might say she had been unlucky in love, what with the runaway rockstars and flaky fame seekers, but Hope would argue that it was impossible to be unlucky in love when she’d never had love. Her flings were less relationships and more distractions, it made it much easier when they stopped calling when they realized there was no recording contract at the end or had gained enough followers that they could now last for an extra fifteen minutes without her. 

All this indifference, both to luck and love, made it okay that Max hadn’t called her. She knew that the fire-fighters working those stands were likely to get multiple numbers a day and even if his cutesy act hadn’t all been for show then he had possibly been freaked out by the small media attraction her hoards of nosey teenage girl stalkers brought. He was just another guy who hadn’t called.

This is why it was so easy for her to continue on throughout her day, throughout her week, normally. She wasn’t the girl who waited by the phone, with chewed nails and pints of ice-cream because a guy she had talked to for twenty minutes. She was the girl who went shopping, attended mandatory Henderson Sunday brunch, went to parties and gave out her memorised fake numbers. If anything her perfectly manicure nails cost more than some people’s pay cheque and pints of ice-cream had no place in the diet of somebody who had to fit into her dresses, Max was cute but she was not about to let a man she didn’t even know destroy her appearance which she worked so hard to keep.

So when her phone rang, three days after the festival she let her indifference slip only slightly when the name ‘Max’ lit up her screen. She smiled as she brought the phone to her ear and was immediately holding back a chuckle at the sound of rambling, his tone so strong that she could almost feel the nervous tension in the room. Luckily for them both, she was much more confident. She let him finish before she began to answer.

“This is Hope,” she confirmed, hoping her now wide smile was evident in her cheery voice and would calm him down if even only slightly, “So no bogus number, told you that you were far too cute for that. And I actually think it was rather sweet you waited three days - if a little cheesy.”

[maximiliancain-blog]

If Max had stopped talking and started listening, then he would have spared himself the need to ramble. If he had stopped rambling and instead gave the other person on the end of the line some time to speak, then he would have the first moments of the phone call over and done with. Gone would be his agony on whether or not the phone number was fake, and then with it, his shoulders would relax and he would heave a sigh of relief. He would have been much more confident, as it was only proper to show confidence towards a pretty girl with pretty eyes; and he would have been more in control of the situation. If only he hadn’t rambled. If only he’d allowed the person on the other end of the line some room to speak before going into an explanation of how they should forget the call just in case it wasn’t Hope he was talking to.

As it was, though, he hadn’t stopped talking, and he had rambled. As it was, he rambled and he rambled until there was no more room to ramble, until the other person on the end of the line probably got tired of him. He rambled, and thus he didn’t give the other room to speak, which meant more agony for him, as he had yet to know whether it was Hope he was actually speaking to. And no, he didn’t gain a more confident tone as he talked; his shoulders did not relax, and there was no sigh of relief. The back of his head told him to shut up, but he couldn’t. The back of his  head told him to just stop talking, but the words had to come out. They had to. Max was Max, after all. When his words ran, his words ran.

When he had finally gotten a hold of himself and thus dwindled into a silence, the cheery voice on the other end of the line greeted him. Hope. Hope’s voice greeted him. The confirmation that the number was indeed Hope’s brought a smile to Max’s lips. There was a smile to Hope’s tone on the other  end of the line, as audible and as clear as the confidence that broke through his rambling. For this, Max brought himself to relax and heave a sigh of relief. Luck may not have been on his side anymore, but something certainly was if Hope was willing to talk to a blubbering firefighter who couldn’t hold his words at the thought of calling a pretty girl.

The simple thought of this made Max just a tiny bit more confident. She was still talking to him. She hadn’t put the phone down the moment he got into his second sentence as he rambled. For some reason, Hope Henderson was on the phone with him. Still! Max’s smile widened, and, when he spoke, it showed in his voice, too. “You counted?” he asked; a chuckle came after. “Here I thought you wouldn’t be waiting by the phone for me! I thought you’d have forgotten about me on the second day I didn’t call. I figured there must be lots of other prettier boys who got your number, and I didn’t want you to reject mine as you would reject theirs. I mean, if I were a beautiful girl with my phone ringing all day, I’d probably just have --- I don’t know --- thrown it away. Probably.”

Max chuckled at his own words. Yes, he was still rambling. And yes, maybe Hope didn’t care. And yes, maybe Hope would put down the phone mid-sentence. But, for now, she hadn’t yet. For now, she didn’t. And, for this, Max was a more confident rambler. “I’m glad you remember me, though,” he said with a tone so genuine, it came with a smile. “I just wanted to ask if you were free? Sometime soon? I… came down with the cold from all the water and the ice in the fair, but it should be gone soon. I’d wait for it to go away, though. Don’t want my first date ever with a real pretty girl to be me sneezing her away, you know?”

[maximiliancain-blog]

Text ✉ Max & Maddox

Maddox: Come & Sense 9pm be there

Max: or be square!! got it!!

[traditcre-deactivated20160718]

It was as if annoying Max had become a sort of hobby. Something to do when he otherwise had absolutely nothing. While this had certainly not been one of those times, Benjamin found he simply couldn’t pass up the opportunity. While he had come to see a friend, to coax him into joining him for a beer, Ben found himself distracted with the chance to push a few of Max’s buttons.

Instead it seemed like his own buttons were going to be pushed.

The first bit of Max’s words meant little to the detective, his head nodding as he followed along. There was a soft chuckle, a roll of his eyes as the other joked about him actually liking the firefighter. These antics however came to a sudden halt when the words were spoken. Even though Max continued to speak, only a few words bounced around in his head.

‘I hope you rot in a cell.’

The words had never been spoken to him before, and yet they hit harder than many he’d heard. His father, the life that he had left before were suddenly brought forth in his mind. The very words spoken were a deep seated fear of Benjamin’s. All those nights spent worrying if he was turning into his father, worrying what kind of man he was going to be were brought forth when those few words were spoken by the man before him.

“Io non sono a lui.” The words were spoken quickly, softly under his breath. His hand lifted, fingers running swiftly through his hair as he stepped back. A heavy sigh slipped through his lips, his head shaking as his gaze once more focused on Max. He needed to shake off that feeling, the one that made him act irresponsibly. “Yeah, I’ll be sure to do that.” He attempted to keep his voice neutral, to shield whatever emotion might be leaking through. “Just tell me where he is, and you won’t have to see me any longer.”

[maximiliancain-blog]

It hadn’t come immediately. The knowledge of what he’d done --- or, rather, said --- did not come immediately to Max who still stared at Ben as though there were a game between them he wanted to win. There was still a glint in his eyes, a cockiness to the way he held himself, and a smile to his lips that he did not remove. All these remained too long, too long, on his features. When Ben muttered under his breath, Max even rolled his eyes, not knowing that the game between them had long been cut short with his words.

It wasn’t until Ben spoke that Max noticed something. He couldn’t quite put a finger on it, and he didn’t quite know what he’d said, but something had changed. The other man didn’t have the same playful stance anymore, and his words came out neutral, as did his words. Almost as though he was hiding something. Almost as though he was keeping something from spilling through. Almost as though. Max looked more intently at him when this happened, but he didn’t know what it was that was wrong.

But he knew that something was.

Max, being Max, at once took on a look of full apology and stepped closer to the man. “Hey --- sorry If I--- if I hit a nerve there.” It took a lot of humility to step up to a rival and apologize, but Max did it either way. Max was used to apologies, and he was used to messing up; the last thing he cared about was dignity or shame when it cae to such things. “Sorry, I didn’t --- I mean, I don’t know what I said? That came off wrong? So, I can’t say I didn’t mean it, but --- I’m sorry. I’m ---”

With a hand rubbing the nape of his neck, Max looked down and shifted his weight on his two feet. If anything, there was nothing he could do now. There was nothing he could do now, but just let things be. “Jimmy’s in the other room,” he said after a pause. “Sorry. Again.”

[maximiliancain-blog]

WAKE WITHIN ME / MAX & JAC --- @jac-sanford

The universe worked in a certain way. It could give and give, only so it could take and take. It would reach a high, only so to reach a low. It was good one moment, only so it could be bad the next. To the universe, this just was. To the universe, this was the way things were supposed to be. One couldn’t be too happy; one couldn’t just receive. One had to experience two sides of the coin to understand how to live. The good came with the bad, and the high with the low, only so one could see that one could not just live by taking from others. The universe had to hold people together somehow, and maybe this was its way of doing just that. The universe had to make sure to keep the balance, and so it gave and took, reached high and low, became good and bad, for the sake of people.

Maximilian Cain was not the universe; he did not understand these things. To him, it was unfair. To him, it was unfair that his life could be so good one moment, only to be so bad the next; that he could reach such a high, only so he could come so low; that he was given so much, only so it could be taken from him. The ways the world worked did not make sense to him, as he was a mere human being who went about his days hoping for something greater. Who could know, after all? Who could know the way of the world, and the way of the universe? Who could know why one was given what they were given? Who could know why one encountered the obstacles that they did? Take it all apart, and Max was only human. Take it all apart, and Max was only trying.

With all his heart, he was trying to be better. Each day was an uphill slope, but he climbed it all the same so that he might reach the top one day. Each day was facing a battle with his childhood monsters, the kind  that he could not shrug off, and yet he fought to the best of his abilities instead of conceding. Each day, there was something to fight for; and his mother, someone to fight for. He’d look at all the people he’d hurt, at all the lives he’d changed from his years of folly, and know that his mission was not done in this world; that somehow, no matter how twisted it was, he had purpose.

Did he not deserve good things, then? Did he not deserve good health, in the very least? And on his birthday, no less!

He would like to say that he deserved every good thing coming his way, but Maximilian Cain was not so confident. In himself. In his good heart. In his esteem. He would like to believe that his good deeds had at least piled up enough for God --- if there was a God out there --- or the universe to think that he deserved to have a good day on his birthday. But, thinking this very thing made him feel selfish. Thinking that his good deeds required good in return made him feel as though he was doing them for some kind of return. Max was not that kind of person; he did not want to be. He wanted to be the kind of person who did good for the sake of good, the kind of person who did good because it was good. (And he was, really. He was. But, right now, through the runny nose and the running thoughts, it was difficult to see this.)

So, he pushed these thoughts to the back of his mind. He pushed it so far back that he did not see it again until he was on hospital grounds. Not even Max could ward off the thoughts that he deserved something better than seeing a doctor and having an x-ray on his birthday. As he saw the necessary doctor and did the necessary steps to check whether his lungs were clear, these thoughts ruminated in his mind and thus made him feel weaker and sadder than he already was. The last place he wanted to be was here, and the last state he wanted to be in was this. He carried his defeat with him throughout the hospital, but, the world worked in funny ways.

Max had not intended to see Jac, but he had prepared just in case he might. So, it did not come as a surprise to him when he saw her just as noon time hit, heading the opposite direction that he was going in. At once, he carried himself higher, put a smile on his lips, (and also coughed once or twice just to clear his throat), before he waved at her and said, “Hello, nurse.” The smile on his lips grew when he caught her attention. “Are you following me? You’re following me, aren’t you?” The joke was light on his lips. “I mean… I didn’t even plan to see you. Did you plan to see me?” Max smiled his usual good-natured smile at Jac.