This prompt is courtesy of Anonymous.
Are enes prompts also allowed? If yes, I was thinking something with Michael realizing his brother likes Alex and confronting him about it
***
“So what’s the problem?” Max asked as he and Michael both huddled over the garden hose behind Max’s house.
Michael raised a brow at his brother, his lips quirking upward in that mischievous, troublesome smirk, and Max knew what was coming.
“Your fitter and pipe are both too rusty, they must’ve cracked somewhere.” He bent low over the pipe, tweaking it. “I’ll check your fitter. If it moves around fine, then –”
All of a sudden, a crack in the rusted pipe beneath the fitter appeared when Michael moved it back, and there was a fountain of water exploding and hitting them both, Max especially, in the face.
“Ah – MICHAEL!”
“So it was the pipe!” Michael yelled gleefully even as the water soaked him.
“Would you shut it off?!”
A too-long second later, the water eased down to a mere drip drip drip onto the mud. Max sighed, rubbing the water from his eyes.
He glared at his brother. “You knew that would happen.”
“I had a feeling,” Michael defended.
“A warning would’ve been nice.”
“You want me to warn you whenever I have a feeling about something?”
Max huffed, pushing his wet bangs out of his eyes. “Great,” he grumbled. “I’ll have to call someone to fix this.”
Michael held up his hands, as if to say, Hello?! “That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it?”
“I meant someone I can trust.”
“You’ll trust a stranger more than me?”
“Dear God, yes.”
Michael rolled his eyes, and patted his brother’s shoulder. “Look, I can get you another pipe, just seal the cut with some duct tape for now, and I’ll replace it for you tomorrow.”
“Oh?” Max raised a brow, trying not to seem interested. “You – er – have a date tonight with…” He didn’t say her name. He felt weird saying her name when Alex had helped him so much. It didn’t feel fair saying her name, or right, though he couldn’t say why.
“Maria,” Michael said slowly, as if he thought his brother was stupid for having forgotten. Max secretly thought Michael was a little stupid for not realizing the real problem.
“Yeah, I’m taking her to the movies.”
“Ah,” Max said awkwardly, fanning his wet shirt if only to have something to do. “Hey, you uh…”
“Yeah?”
Max looked up at his brother; calm, happy, relieved. Max wished he could feel the same, but beneath the happiness, he felt something brewing under the surface, something desperate and yearning, something he could never name or speak of.
He shook his head. He was being stupid.
“Nothing, never mind. I’ll go get the duct tape.”
“Hold on, I’m not as soaked as you are,” Michael said. “I’ll get the tape, and I’ll do it without dragging mud in, too.”
Max looked down at himself, gathering his shirt in his hands at the hem and wringing it out. “Yeah, okay. Do you know where it is?”
“Kitchen drawer?” he asked, already near the door, and Max gestured over his shoulder a quick yes.
Max sighed. “Great,” he muttered. How was he supposed to get clean without making a mess inside? He could always take his clothes off outside, wipe his feet down, and go in. He’d have to do it after Michael left though, that was for sure. He didn’t need the blackmail, he had other problems.
“What the hell’s this?” he suddenly heard, and turned to find his brother standing at the doorframe.
“Hey, you got the…” Max’s words fell short. Michael was no longer smiling, his gaze cold and dark as Max only knew it could be around one certain man, and instead of holding the duct tape, he held a brown leather journal in his hands, his thumb bookmarking a page in the middle. Max’s latest entry.
Max’s heart fell into his stomach. Oh no.
“Er,” he tried, his voice feeble to his own ears. “You okay?”
Michael held the journal up. “Why’re you writing about Alex?”
Max changed his approach. “You were looking through my things?”
“I didn’t have to, you left it wide-open on the kitchen counter.” He took a step towards Max, his hand tightening on the journal. He looked cold, but he looked… confused as well, like he couldn’t believe what he’d seen, or who he was talking to about it. Max wanted to reach out to him, but what would he say?
He could never have said his true feelings, it was true, but he could always write the unsaid.
“Were you writing about him before I got here? Is that,” he huffed in disbelief, “is that why you looked so nervous?”
“Okay, Michael,” Max said calmly, hoping it would help calm his brother, too. It didn’t. “Listen, it’s not what you think.”
Michael opened the journal to the bookmarked page. “ ‘His lips like roses, his eyes so dark I fear they could see into my very soul and know my darkest of secrets, his name like a promise on my tongue; Alex, my question; Alex, my laugh. An unspoken truth against my lips, a smile that makes me cry for I cannot help but hurt with wonder, I cannot help but burn with hope.’”
“Michael, please –”
“ ‘—and yet I welcome it. I welcome that hurt, and I welcome that burn, because it would mean I could have him, and I would so love to have him.’”
“Just listen to me –”
“ ‘My rose, my deadly arrow. Is his skin as soft as a red petal? His voice as piercing? I wonder, and wonder, and wonder, but I cannot touch him, for he may be a rose, but he is not without his thorns, and I am not without my endlessly bleeding wounds’ – don’t lie to my face,” Michael ended on a snarl and Max flinched.
“So what, you,” Michael shook his head, his eyes narrowed as if he was trying to search for the right words, too. “You – you like Alex now?”
“I don’t –” he started, but the rusty pipe burst apart into small pieces and the ground seemed to shake with the strength of the vibrations, and Max stumbled slightly before he caught himself.
He held Michael’s gaze. He could lie, say he had written it for Michael to give to Alex. But Michael had already chosen someone else. Michael hadn’t even asked about Alex in weeks. Max had had a hard time believing that that had been the same man who’d threatened to hate Max forever if he’d gotten Alex sent away. He had no trouble believing it now.
“I don’t know,” he confessed helplessly, for that’s how he’d spent these past few months feeling; helpless. Helpless to stop thinking of Alex, helpless to stop his heart from racing whenever Alex was around, helpless to keep himself from feeling protective of the airman when everyone else seemed to want to leave him behind.
Michael blinked, his frown deepening as if he hadn’t expected Max to give him the actual truth. “You don’t know.” Max shrugged heavily.
Michael staggered back. “How long?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper and hoarse, as if he’d been screaming all day.
Max opened his mouth, then shut it, then opened it again. “December.”
Michael’s eyes widened fractionally, and he shook his head. He moved another step back, and Max moved towards him, taking his arm.
“No, no, listen to me, listen – it’s – it’s just a crush, Michael, I swear, and – and barely even that.”
“You like him,” Michael muttered, the journal slipping from his hand to the ground. “You like Alex.”
“But he doesn’t like me,” Max said hastily, pretending the words didn’t leave a needle stab in his chest. “He could never – I’m not even his type! You’re his type. You’re the one Alex loves, Michael.”
That seemed to snap Michael out of his thoughts. He looked up, his gaze catching Max’s. He seemed to take several deep breaths, his jaw clenched so painfully tight Max worried it might shatter.
When Michael finally spoke, his voice was so low and so barely controlled that Max was afraid Michael would explode if he let go of his arm. “Just… just a crush?”
Max swallowed. “Barely.”
“You wrote about him –”
“I write about everything.”
“And you’ll never… I mean…” Michael seemed to struggle with the words, but they were the ones Max knew he could never disagree with, could never dare. And you’ll never tell him any of this?
“That’s not even a question,” Max said firmly, the stab wound slightly stronger now, but he’d never planned to tell Alex anyway. He was horrified at the very idea of it. Besides, it wasn’t like Alex could ever feel the same way, could ever actually accept his feelings… could he?
“Never.”
***
Enes is always allowed. Also, is that it? Have we settled on Enes for Max x Alex?
Four more? Nope. I’m already falling asleep. Until tomorrow then.