synopsis: Max tries to hide her troubles from you, but you manage to see through her. A change in her laugh, her smile, the way she hangs around you. It’s only when you confront her does she finally confide in you.
tags: fluff, established relationship, kisses, cuddles, slight tension, soft comfort.
notes: my first request! (found here) thank you sm for requesting, i had fun writing this. i hope you enjoy & its up to ur standard <3 apologies if there’s any typos :(
Maxine was like an unexpected blessing in disguise, hurling into your life. She was loud, intense, overwhelming.
It started in Biology class.
She’d been assigned as your new seatmate, walking over to you with a smile that resembled the sun. She greeted you excitedly, nerves nowhere in sight. And you, well, you were the opposite of her. Timid. Quiet. Soft. You gave her a tentative smile, and tried to continue with the activity your teacher had given, but it was difficult to focus with Max’s voice in your ear. She never stopped, not even to take a moment to breathe.
At first, you could deal with it. It was only thrice a week you’d have to see Max, but when a project arose, you found yourself growing closer with her as the weeks passed by.
You’d spend time at school working—in the library, out on the field, by the bleachers. Now and then, you’d work at her place. Other times she’d come home with you.
And in those moments, you couldn’t help but notice things about her that you hadn’t before. The way she twisted her lips to the side, the way she tucked her hair behind her ears when trying hard to concentrate. The way she fiddled with her bracelets when she felt nervous, scared. The way she was often forgetful in her own charming way.
Soon, that initial apprehension you felt towards Max faded, and turned in to something else, something that had you lying awake at night, thoughts of her haunting you. It wasn’t long before you were counting down the seconds till Biology, wanting to see her.
The final day of working on the project was when everything changed.
Max was packing up her books, placing them in her bag when you caught onto her wrist. She looked at you, surprised. Frankly, you had surprised yourself too. But you couldn’t back down—not when you made it that far, not when Max was staring at you with a knowing look. So, with a hammering heart and sweaty palms, you went in for it, asking her out to a movie.
It wasn’t a date, at least not yet. Your first date didn’t come until a week later when Max asked you if you’d like to go bowling.
One date turned into two, and two dates turned into three, until you’d completely lost track. Not much time passed before you both confessed your feelings, and two days later, you were official.
That was five months ago.
Now, having spent so many months together, you know Max like the back of your hand. You know what ticks her, how to comfort her. You pride yourself on that, because Max, although eccentric and extroverted, never let parts of herself be known too well—but you did.
There’s a pair of hands hovering over your eyes, interrupting you from changing books out your locker. You smile instinctively, the voice and matching bracelet hanging around the wrist being recognized instantly.
You chuckle, deciding to play with her for a bit. “Let’s see, mh.. my imaginary best friend from age six suddenly came to life?”
Max scoffs sarcastically, dropping her hands. You turn around, back facing the locker as you look at the younger girl. Her bottom lip is jutted out slightly, feigning despair. “Sadly not, only your beautiful, talented and gorgeous girlfriend.”
“Shame, I think I’d prefer the imaginary friend.”
“Oh, is that so?” Max raises an eyebrow, gasping. “How unfortunate! You wound me, Y/N.” She dramatically places a hand over her chest, clutching the section where her heart is.
She takes a step back, standing in the middle of the hallway. You easily notice that mischievous glint in her eyes, as she looks at each side of her before her voice bellows out.
“Quick! Someone help me, for my girlfriend no longer loves me!”
Your eyes widen and you quickly reach out to her, pulling her back towards you. You’re laughing at her antics, but your cheeks still flush red from the curious stares of other students.
“Stop it, you dork.” you mumble, flicking her arm.
Max grins like a Cheshire cat, “I hope you know that’s a preview of what would happen if we ever broke up.”
“Well, luckily that’s not going to happen.”
“Mmh.” She hums in response, and leans in to place a soft kiss on your cheek. You head ducks down, not much of a fan of PDA, but you grab onto Max’s hand and give it a gentle squeeze.
Max lets you finish up switching your books for the next half of the school day, and soon, you’re walking over to her locker, hand-in-hand. She quickly inputs the combination of her lock and the door swings open. You’re leaning against the next door locker, catching sight of the multiple photos decorating the inside of her locker door. It’s a contrast to your own locker, which is bare and lacking any personality.
There’s a few of her, Abby and Norah, a recent one of her and Ginny, another of her and Marcus. Then, your eyes drift to the others. Some are single photos of you, some are of both you and her. They come in many forms too—polaroids, print outs, a strip from a photo booth.
Max has always been more…showy with your relationship. Always holding your hand, kissing your cheek or shoulder. An arm slung over you was standard when going out. She needed everyone to know you were hers.
You, on the other hand, loved her in the quiet spaces—the comfort of your home, or hers. Loved her when no one was watching, behind closed doors, or any moment it was just you two.
Max never had a problem with it, she understood you were much more reserved than her. She often relishes in those quiet moments—always with a smile and a heart that beat way too quick for any normal person. Despite your hesitancy at first, you learned to grow to reciprocate her affections. Plus, she knows you have a photo of her tucked away in your wallet, so it’s not like she was completely hidden.
“Am I walking you over to MANG?” you ask her, the name of her friend group rolling off your tongue with ease, even if it makes your insides twist from the absurdity of it.
“It’s only MANG when we’re all together.” She corrects you, and you give her a look as if asking if she was being for real right now. “And uh—no, it’s okay.” Max responds, closing her locker door. “But walk me to AP English?”
You nod, not thinking much of it. Pushing yourself off the locker, you turn back to face Max and offer her your hand. She takes it with a tiny grin, intertwining your fingers and wraps her other hand around your forearm.
What follows after includes a visible slump in her shoulders, a pout present, then a groan of discomfort.
“Okay!” Ellen exclaims, a faux smile in place. Her hands are set on the counter. “Max, honey let’s skip the part where I ask what’s wrong, you lie and tell me it’s nothing, and I pry until you give in. So, clearly somethings going on, mh?”
Max folds her arms over the counter and rests her chin on them. “It’s ANG, they’re being.. weird.”
Ellen lets out a breath and then works around the kitchen, packing out plates and utensils for dinner. “Weird how, sweetheart?”
“They’re distant.” Max says, sitting up and watching her mom. “I can tell they aren’t telling me something, but I just don’t know why.”
Her mom puts down four plates, the sound loud and echoing in the room. “Maybe they’re not ready to talk about it.” She offers poorly, shrugging as if the matter doesn’t hurt Max.
The brunette mumbles a reply under her breath, too low for Ellen to hear. She doesn’t ask Max to repeat it, continuing to move about the kitchen. Max fiddles with her bracelet, and worries on her bottom lip. Maybe she would text them.
She looks at the phone, thinking it over in her head.
Quickly, she reaches for the device and unlocks her phone. She scrolls through her contacts until she finds the MANG groupchat, typing out a message. The blue cursor blinks at her as she rereads what she typed out.
For some reason, her chest feels heavy. Heavy with nervousness, and something else Max couldn’t quite name.
She deletes the message, running a hand through her hair. Why was this suddenly so difficult? It takes her another few minutes before she finally settles on a text, hitting send.
max [6:37pm]: are you guys okay? the groups been quiet and im worried
The message delivers. A couple seconds pass by and there’s still no reply. Max places her phone down, closing her eyes for a brief moment.
She doesn’t notice her brother entering the kitchen until he opens the fridge.
The dark haired boy looks over his shoulder at her, a mildly concerned expression on his face. He’s mid-sip from a bottle of water when he fully turns to face Max, leaning against the counter beside the fridge. He twists the bottle cap closed.
“That’s my name.” He replies sarcastically, saluting at her.
Max groans, getting off her seat by the kitchen island and stands opposite him. “Has Ginny said anything to you?”
“About..?” He trails off, placing the bottle next to him. Marcus’ hands rests on each of his elbows, his arms crossing over his chest.
Max rolls her eyes. “Anything! Something! I don’t know, but I feel like I’m out of the loop on everything.” She cards a hand through her hair, tugging on it slightly.
Marcus smirks. “Are you worried I’ve replaced you as her favorite Baker sibling?” He taunts her lightly, and she shoots him a blank look.
He thinks back to recent conversations he’s had with the teenager—talks about her mom, her therapy sessions, living with her dad.
“Nah, she hasn’t told me much.”
Marcus walks off after easily lying through his teeth, taking his bottle of water with him as Max feels her shoulders fold inwards. She sighs again, this time it’s much sadder, her voice soft.
“I just.. I want Ginny to know that I’m here for her. As support for her. I want her to know she can talk to me about anything.”
Nothing prepares Max for her brother’s next few words, but it hits her in the chest, hard—like a punch to the gut. It cuts deep, breath caught in her throat. It chips away at her composure, but she pushes it down, buries it far down inside her.
“Let it go.” He sighs, squinting his eyes. “Don’t make it about yourself, Max.”
The sun is warm against your skin, pages with messy handwriting staring back at you as you read over some notes before class.
Max sits opposite you, eyes on her phone. You can tell she’s invested, looking as if she’s deep in thought. Her lips twists to the side, and thats the first indication that something is bothering her.
The second indication you get is the way she taps her finger against the table. Rapid and steady. She taps them in intervals of three, then stops, taps once, stops again and repeats it all over.
The third and final indication was the way she’s slow in replying to you. You gently attempt to make conversation with her, notebook closed and attention on your girlfriend. Yet Max is looking around you instead of at you, which is rare for her, since she loves to make eye contact with you. She claims it’s because your eyes are so beautiful, how can she ever look away?
So, you tap on her hand, eyes wide with curiosity.
“Hey, are you okay?” you question, eyebrows furrowed together and a frown on your lips.
Max nods almost immediately. It’s quick, too quick. She pulls her hand away and sets it in her lap. You watch her do so as a part of you cracks a little inside you, weirdly confused at her sudden lack of physical touch.
“All good,” she responds. Her eyes never meet yours, and though she smiles, it’s unconvincing.
“Come on, darling. You forget I can tell when you’re lying.” you chuckle smoothly, trying to lighten the mood.
For a moment, Max considers telling you all her problems, all of her worries. She considers letting herself lean on you—emotionally, mentally. You’re staring at her with these soft, concerned eyes. It hurts her when she opens her mouth, only for no sound to come out.
The words fly around in her mind, unwanted and unpleasant. It stings her heart when the words repeat themselves, echoing in her head. It’s silent chaos in her mind; her heart and brain at war with themselves.
Don’t make it about yourself.
The words of Marcus come back to her so quickly she almost believes it—almost. And then, as the silence stretches further, and you’re still waiting with those damn caring eyes, her mind running with possible answers, Marcus’ words become less of an opinion and more of the truth.
“Alright, fine. You caught me.” Max swallows down her feelings. She can keep her troubles to herself, focus on other things. “I’m just stressed about a Chemistry test later this week.”
You eye her for a moment, not believing her. You can clearly telling something is wrong, but you don’t pry, don’t press for more. Max would come to you—eventually, when she’s ready. So, you take in her reply as the truth and offer her shrug.
“Oh? That’s understandable.” you give her a tiny ghost of a smile. “Hey, if you want, I can help you study for it later.”
Here you are, sitting opposite Max, offering her your kind heart and sweet words. Staring at her with your gentle gaze and loving eyes. Soothing voice trying to coax the woes out of her. Be a shoulder for her to cry on.
Her heart clutches in her chest—not from the pain of ANG icing her out, not from watching her brother soundlessly destroy himself, but rather from the love she holds for you, and the guilt that eats away at her.
Still, she swallows that lump in her throat again and slowly beams at you, grateful.
“Thanks, Y/N.” Max places her hand over yours, and rubs the back of it. Shyly, and with very obvious hesitation, you lean over the table, placing a kiss on her forehead.
“You sure you’re alright?” you ask one final time. It’s not to pressure her, but rather to give her the chance and the space to open up.
Those thoughts return. And Max, against her better judgment, lets them overpower her.
It isn’t long before you notice a change in the dynamic. Days go by, you see it in the way they treat Max with blank stares and icy words.
From afar, you’re standing in the hallway talking to some boy—Josh, you think—from your History class about an upcoming assignment, but your attention isn’t on him. Instead, you’re watching with careful eyes as three out of four MANG members sit together by their resident spot. Abby sits on one of the single couch chairs, Ginny in the other. Max is seated on the floor, legs crossed over one another and leaning back against her arms, palms placed on the ground.
They’re talking, but you can tell it’s meaningless conversation in the way Max comments here and there. She’s oddly silent for some reason, her usual outgoing behavior nowhere in sight.
Norah walks over, plops herself next to Abby. They squeeze in together on the single seater, squished but comfortable. She falls into their conversation easily.
You continue watching as Abby leads the conversation, her hands moving in all directions. A couple more minutes go by, and you assume she’s cracked a joke based on Ginny’s laughter and Norah swatting her against the arm.
She only manages a tiny smile.
It’s so unlike her to be this reserved, this antisocial. You’re starting to feel worried about her, it settles deep in your bones, and pulls you further away from the conversation.
“Hello, earth to Y/N?” Josh waves a hand in front of your eyes, distracting you.
You blink back at him, gaze now looking up. “I’m sorry, uh, what were you saying?”
He tilts his head in fake disappointment, tutting at you and ruffles the top of your head. You scowl, hastily fixing the mess he’d made.
“Never mind, we’ll talk again in class.” Josh bids you a goodbye and you wave in return, “See you.”
Once he walks away, your focus is now fully on Max. Her bottom lip is caught between her teeth, a somewhat saddened look on her face, and it pushes you into protective mode. With wary steps, you stride over to them.
“Hey.” you greet, shooting each of them a smile.
You weren’t really friends with Abby, or Ginny, or Norah. Mostly, you hung around them from time to time to be around Max, but you still treat them with politeness, acknowledging their presence.
“What’s up, silly strings?” Abby nods at you. Her tone is teasing, using that godawful nickname from last year when you’d gotten in a play fight with her, spraying each other with silly string cans.
You roll your eyes at her, mumbling at insult back. Abby sticks her tongue out at you as some form of a response. Norah asks you a question that you only half heard, staring down at Max. You didn’t plan to stick around long enough for any conversation to happen.
There’s a beat of awkward silence, Norah’s question going unanswered. Your hand twitches at your side from the anxiety of this social interaction.
You lick your bottom lip, eyes still on your girlfriend. “Walk me to my next class?”
Max’s eyes shoot up. They dart around for a bit, looking at each of her friends. Some weird, silent conversation they’re having, most probably. She musters up a grin, but it doesn’t seem all that convincing.
“Of course,” she voices out a moment later. “Anything for my pretty girl.”
A blush coats your cheeks. Abby takes a chance to tease you again, and this time, Ginny tags in. You roll your eyes, huffing to yourself, but you can feel the heat beneath your skin getting worse. Max stands and slings her backpack over her shoulders, telling them to cut it out, but they manage to add in few more jokes before letting up. Her hand fits into yours with ease, fingers intertwining. You give one final look to the group, and walk off together.
“Everything okay?” you look at her with those same worried eyes once you’re far enough away from the girls. “That seemed.. strange.”
“Ah, it’s just a little tension. Ginny has her moms’ trial and Norah’s.. going through some stuff. And Abby, well, you know how she is.”
It’s a weak attempt at covering up what’s really going on, a poor excuse to keep you in the dark. You believe it, for now, nodding slowly and telling Max about a new video game you started playing recently. She listens, offers you some kind of response here and there, but truthfully, whatever you’re saying goes in one ear and out the other. Her mind is too unfocused, too distracted.
When she drops you off at class, giving you a small peck on the lips and turns away, you fail to notice the way she twists her lips to the side, that somber feeling weighing on her chest once again.
There’s a knock on the door of the Baker house.
You step back, curled hand dropping to your side while the other holds a mini bouquet of Max’s favorite flowers. You’re greeted with the sight of Ellen, who flashes you a warm smile and opens the door wider, stepping aside to let you in.
“Y/N,” she frowns at you. “What are you doing here? It’s late, honey.” Ellen’s concerned eyes meet your gaze once she closes the door.
“Came by for Max,” you tell her with a smile, holding up the flowers. “We were supposed to meet up at Blue Farm.”
Ellen nods in understanding and gestures upstairs. “She’s up in her room.”
You thank her and make your way towards the stairs, waving at Mr. Baker as he passes you by. The walk towards Max’s bedroom is short, your footsteps creaking under the floorboards. You notice both her and Marcus’ doors are closed, chuckling to yourself at the way they seemed more alike than they thought.
Gently, you twist open the handle of her door and push it open. Max is laying on her bed, back facing you, but she grumbles something about wanting to be left alone, assuming it’s her Mom coming into her room.
You step inside, slow and steady. The door shuts behind you and that’s when Max finally looks in your direction. She’s frowning, confused as to why you’re here, but a second later, her eyes drop down to the flowers in your hand and she gasps out loud, covering her mouth with her hand. Apologies fall from her lips in a rapid stream, coming over to you and wrapping her arms around you.
“It’s alright,” you mumble, reciprocating the hug. You’re really not that mad that she’d forgotten about Blue Farm—you’re more worried about how she’s feeling, and what she’s been hiding from you these past few weeks.
“It’s not!” She proclaims, leaning away from you and dropping her head. “I’m so sorry, baby. Ugh, you must be so upset with me.”
You shake your head. “Hey, no. Don’t think like that. I could never be mad at you, my love.”
Your free hand caresses her face, thumb rubbing over her cheekbone. Max protests at your words, but when she looks at you and still sees that same loving gaze, she sighs loudly and buries her head in the junction between your neck and shoulder, muttering incoherent words under her breath.
You can tell she’s feeling highly emotional, so you guide her back to her bed, placing the bouquet on her nightstand and shuffle onto the bed. Max falls into your arms in an instant, clinging onto you like she’s afraid you’ll disappear if she lets go.
You place a kiss on the crown of her head, rubbing a hand up and down her back and whisper sweet nothings in her ear.
It takes a while for her to calm down, and when she does, comforting words leave your mouth. They’re loud with affection, knocking those insecure thoughts out her mind.
“I know you haven’t been feeling well for a couple weeks now. It’s alright, you don’t have to tell me anything. But I want you to know it’s okay not to be okay, Max.”
And then, the damn breaks.
Max’s eyes fill with unshed tears. Your words are like an anchor that’s grounding her, keeping her in place. She lets out a deep breath, pouring all her thoughts and feelings she’s kept hidden. You don’t interrupt, listening closely as she lets everything out—ANG icing her out, her growing worry for Marcus, the sadness she’s been feeling every day, the weight of having to be fine for the sake of her brother. All of it comes tumbling out in choked gasps and a shaky voice.
The anger you feel at ANG for how they’ve been treating Max lights a fire in your chest, but what comes next’s knocks the air out of you.
“I didn’t say anything because.. I didn’t want to be dramatic. I didn’t want to make it about me, it’s what everyone says. And you have your own problems, you shouldn’t have to deal with mine too.” She confesses, and hiccups from all the crying she’d been doing.
You sit up, facing her. Your stare is hard, but there’s a softness lying underneath. “Max, baby, don’t ever think I wouldn’t deal with your problems—small or big. You’re important to me, and you shouldn’t have to hide your feelings just because you think you’re being dramatic.”
Max sniffles. You cup her cheek and wipe away a few stray tears. “It’s not true, don’t believe what others tell you. Your feelings are valid, and you’re allowed to be angry, to be hurt. But please don’t hide them from me. I’m here for you just as much as you are for me.”
She lets out another ragged gasp, clutching onto you. You let her cry into your chest, not caring that she wets your t-shirt. You simply hold her, keeping her up as her walls crumple around her.
The minutes pass by, her cries now at bay.
“I love you.” She whispers it ever so delicately, and your heart stutters in your chest.
“I love you, too.” you repeat the words like a prayer. It’s raw, tender. The vulnerability in your voice lets Max know you mean it. “Now, c’mon, let me see that gorgeous smile.”
Max lifts her head off your chest, and musters up a smile as best as she can. It’s feint, not entirely there. It isn’t like her usual flashy smiles that make your body feel a rush of excitement. Your lips straighten in a thin line at her weak attempt, and after a moment of thought, with a devious look in your eyes, you place a kiss on her nose, featherlight. Then her cheeks, her forehead, the corner of her mouth. All over and around her face.
Max’s giggles hang in the air, shoving you away from her. “Okay, okay! Stop!”
“There’s that smile I love.”
She rolls her eyes in exaggeration. Her lips fall ever so slightly, and all thats left is a warm grin gracing her features. She leans up, softly capturing her lips in yours. You kiss her back eagerly, having missed these quiet moments of love.
When the need for air becomes too much, Max leans her forehead against yours. Her breathing is slightly heavy, but her eyes sparkle like normal and her cheeks feel warm.
For a short second, you’re looking into her eyes.
They shimmer with happiness, like stars in the sky. They’re bright and colorful, holding so much affection for you in them. You take a moment to breathe before tackling her down and attacking her face with kisses all over again. Max somehow manages to overpower you, laying you on your back as she snuggles into your side. She thinks she’s finally won, but you turn to lay on your side and kiss all over her face for the third time. Hands at her side, enveloping her. Holding her close.
At first, their light and hold so much gentleness. But the longer you go on, the more sloppy and wet they become, smacking your lips against her skin with the fattest smooth you can conjure up. You alternate between sloppy kisses and quick pecks, and another over exaggerated kiss before falling onto her pillow, cheekily smiling at her.
She huffs, throwing some out of pocket insult at you, and before you can respond, she shuts you up with a kiss of her own.
For the rest of the night, Max cuddles against you, tucked away in the safety of your arms. She lets her head rest in the crook of your neck, fingers trailing over your collarbone as her breath tickles your skin. You smile down at her, and pull her closer to you, tightening your grasp.
