#maxryl

[velvetjackson]

Cute lil pediatric nurse Darryl

ᕱ⑅ᕱ•*¨*•.¸¸☆*

[vixenvows]

✧˖°. I Can’t Stop Dreaming of You by vixenvows ⋆˙⟡ (reupload)

Contents: swearing, smut, angst, anal sex, rough sex that starts out gentle, protective sex, bottom Darryl, top Max, skinny love, internalized homophobia

Word Total: 2,042

Summary: Honesty shines through beneath the silver moon.

A/N: This is just a reupload so that I can have direct access to the post settings again. I did tweak some things here and there for better clarity (I hope) + there was a sentence where their roles got mixed up and I needed to fix that for my mental well being -_-

✧˖°.Chapter 1⋆˙⟡

The moon perches high. Its pale gaze seeking spare signs of softness amid the turbulence of a Harlem steeped in beggarly misfortunes. Inner-city crime that never sleeps.

Neo-Grec slums prop up a bleak repetition some don like the Dapper Dan's that flaunt their illicit status; sleek bodies and tinted windows prowling incitement to envy and intimidate.

Others submit to what they deem inevitable. Kindred hardships and heartaches nurtured by cruel things they inherited. Weedy traces that have taken root long before them and will propagate all who follow after.

All serve their part, falling in line one way or another.

Switching hips work the avenue on stilettos and desperation. Their strut bumping a tune to readily bid another ungodly hour to any lustful eye for the right price.

Jive talk from tipsy fools whose booze-bolstered egos outweigh their circumstance, puffed up on lesser things and aspirations that don’t extend past the corner they occupy.

Weary souls tucked away in graffitied vacancies. Reveries boundless through blackened pipes and busted needles. Their sorrows melted away in a numbing hit of blissful destruction.

The longer it went on, the faster it left. Arms perforated, teeth stained with proof of their frequent wager on dopamine and death.

Nightfall burns so cold this time of year, stinging in bitter recognition of all it beholds. Hoping to be relieved. To stumble upon a single abode of prevailing warmth and respite, for comfort finds itself even in waste places where home must be made.

Sure enough, a seemingly rest-fallen room offers in abundance what fails to be attained in the streets just outside. Streams of silver peek through unsealed blinds. A gentle intrusion falling around two bodies tangled in heated harmony. Two souls who deny the true nature of the flames fueling their bond.

They move as one: flexing, contorting silhouettes in the dark, misted limbs drifting in and out of low light.

“Shit~right there…” Darryl gasps on breathless desire. His hands fist the sheets as Max rocks into him… smooth… steady… pressing at the soft point that melts his insides molten. Rendering him weak, unspun, defenseless.

“I’m hittin’ that spot, D?” the ebony-shaded male speaks low from behind. His lips hover close to the other’s ear, and the loose curls at Darryl's temple swirl beneath the drift of his sigh.

He’s sheathed in Darryl’s velvet heat. Every fluid stroke a pierce that sends shimmers of stardust coursing through their veins, glittering and incandescent. 

Darryl manages a long, throaty sound in agreeance. His words stifled by a depth of pleasure consuming his sense of self or reason.

All that remains, ringing like a mantra, is Max, Max, Max. His weight draped over him. The languid stir of hips at every throbbing inch he impales him with. The husky tones that rumble in his throat and vibrate through Darryl’s entire frame.

Max licks a broad stripe up the side of Darryl's neck. A shiver runs up the almond boy’s spine in response, defying the sultry air they stir.

It clings to their skin and nostrils, thick with the heady musk of sweat and sex, and the base notes of something sweetly, addictingly, one another. 

That scent sends Max’s head swimming. The way his fuses with Darryl’s. The way they seep into each other’s pores. Into everything around them.

It’s a fragrance that always lingers in quiet longing in the far recesses of his mind until they’re wrapped around each other again. A staple as proof that these secluded interludes are real, sculpted to embrace and unwind with fervent devotion.

Though, Max’s sober lips would never spill the magnitude of the closeness this offers. A heart-rending longing that lingers just beneath for him to choke down before he grows too full and slips up.

In shadows, expectation crumbles. Facade slackens its grip. Here, they move unrehearsed, finding refuge through the impatient meld of lips. The ritualistic ram of flesh. Bare and exploring passion they’ll hide come sunrise.

It always ends the same. They’ll wash away the essence of taboo pleasures. Force themselves to compartmentalize the heat of nearness and tender caresses. Then slip masks back on, pristine and renewed, to flaunt manliness as irrefutable truth.

But for now, their honesty shines through beneath the silver moon, illuminating just enough for this encounter to remain theirs alone.

Max’s motions don’t falter, slow, measured, grinding into Darryl’s prostate with delectable friction. And it’s simultaneously, for Darryl… unnerving. Unbearable. 

This fragility Max seems intent on not letting up; it stirs a foolish, highly speculative inkling Darryl wishes to escape. One that settles in and begins to infest his thoughts.

It threatens to dwindle the spark of his approaching orgasm. Wound taut in his lower belly, pulsing in his length, long neglected with precum dribbling from the tip, needy for attention.

He lowers a golden, sinewy hand to his front, fingers reaching to wrap around himself for relief.

“Nah, nunna that.”

A startled noise leaps from Darryl as Max moves swiftly. His face plants into the pillow as his wrist is wrenched and locked solid at the middle of his back. Max’s grip is ironclad to keep it from wandering any farther.

Not tight enough to cause any real harm, but firm enough to make it clear that he has full control over Darryl getting off tonight.

“C’mon Max, ‘s not enough. You gonna fuck me right or not?” His complaint is muffled and frustrated. He strains against the top’s hold, writhing underneath his weight, insistent for Max to please him harder.

To stop treating him with this softness that strives to cloud his head with hopeful nonsense.

Max lets out a chuckle at that, but it is hollow. Almost humorless.

“So fuckin’ greedy. I’m given’ you every inch~” Darryl yelps as Max emphasizes his sentiment with a harsh rut into his ass, burying himself to the hilt, “~of me. And it ain’t enough for you? Bet that. Imma make you feel it.”

Max vows with an edge that sounds more menacing than sympathetic. What he has in store just might confirm it.

He lifts Darryl by both arms, extended behind his back, gripping a wrist tightly in each hand to steady him. Max readjusts his own position, sitting upright with knees squared between the other’s thighs for better leverage.

No heed or warning is offered as he all but knocks the wind straight from Darryl’s lungs. The surge of his hips is unforgiving, pistoning into Darryl harder than his mind or body feels capable of keeping up with.

The air Darryl heaves back in again shatters with a sound that bellows from his pit, broken and visceral and desperately unbridled. His hands scramble for hold on Max’s forearms to brace himself against the rapid thrusts plowing through his hole. The force rocks him unstable, his length bobbing and weeping from the impact.

Max sneers at that, wide and wicked, his silver earring shimmering in the moonlight as he fucks into Darryl with abandon.

“You feel me now?”

The taunt in Max’s tone is as maddening as it is arousing. He knows just how to get under Darryl’s skin. Embed himself there and make it his home to wreck as he pleases.

Darryl invites his bruising destruction with earnest submission.

“S-shit~just like that! Don’t stop!” Darryl begs with an expression broken in bliss. His eyes are unfocused, lips parted over uneven breath and head thrown back. His frame jerks forward as Max drives into him rough and reckless. 

“That’s right. Take all this dick,” Max growls through clenched teeth. His abdomen burns from his efforts and his awaiting release.

He feels himself slipping more and more as that vibrant sensation swells closer to ecstasy. But he swallows it down with tenacious hunger, determined to hold off a little longer to revel in Darryl’s lost sensibilities.

How he renders Darryl’s private school etiquette and calm composure into consuming desperation. How he molds him into this hedonistic devotee that surrenders all propriety at the push of his cock. It’s a carnal feat Max takes much pride in. 

Contrary to his rough-handed tendencies, he always starts with careful precision. He eases himself in and out of Darryl until he’s stretched enough to accommodate his size and the brash energy he rarely ever sheds.

But some part of that calm, delicate approach wants to savor Darryl with tenderness. To meld reverently and pretend, if only for a moment, that what they share reaches beyond the physical. That the wistful space he keeps for his friend could be returned in kind.

That he could simply say to hell with it and love Darryl in the way the world deems wrong. In the way he’s spent so long fiercely trying to shut himself off from.

But it breaches through in spite of him. And that’s when the terms of their arrangement begin to blur.

Those gentle grazes and hushed utterances pry into Darryl like something hellish and persistent to invade his rationale. To seep in and corrode the barrier he’s so meticulously constructed to hold his emotions at bay.

It wrangles with his heart and attempts to infringe on his better judgement. A turbulent struggle only his friend’s familiar abrasiveness can quell.

So Darryl gets defiant. He takes what he wants without permission, talks back, pushes all the right buttons to rile up the harsh dominance he needs. It's effective in dragging Max out of that dreamy head space, reminding him why he’s here to begin with.

And Max damn sure doesn’t hesitate to put him in his place. Even so, this he knows for certain Darryl would have no other way.

And Darryl could die happy here. Pinned firm, opened wide to the blissful brunt of pent-up and repressed desire Max denies in daylight until he can bury it all within him.

He welcomes the sting of hefty hands tugging at his roots until his scalp twinges for relief, squeezing his hip so hard Max’s palm brands there.

Offers himself willingly to the greedy pull of lips, etching splotchy hues along hidden places only he will savor.

Relishes in the dull throb that will settle in his backside for days after this engagement. Each rough reminder a testament to these nightly rendezvous.

Darryl is more than pleased to surrender to any lashing his friend sees fit when it hurts this good. When such elated torment overrides the ache of unconfessed feelings he quietly continues to bear.

The headboard bangs against the wall, mattress groaning beneath the force of merciless intimacy. A rhythm that underscores their moans and the clash created where bodies meet; Darryl’s ass bouncing off of Max as he drills him fast and deep.

“Gonna m-make me cum!” Darryl gasps through trembling lips. His joints stiffen, squeezing Max’s slick forearms so hard that sweat breaks from his own palms. His core simmers and pulsates with electric. A sweltering overcurrent that brims every muscle and extremity and demands to be unraveled.

“Give it to me. I got you,” Max pants. And that husky urging, needy and insistent, is all it takes to set Darryl off.

His length lurches as thick ropes of white splatter across the bedsheet. His mouth is agape, emitting a stream of sounds he can barely process over the sultry bliss that pervades his entire being, buzzing with static from head to toe.

Max continues to chase his own high, moving with a ferocity that starts to wane and stutter as Darryl’s feverish ring of muscle clamps down tight. His focus tunnels solely to that bind, the heat that fills him and the way Darryl shatters into complete rapture around his dick.

He soon follows with a loud, heavy groan, hips planted flush to Darryl’s behind. Euphoric tides crash through his body as he unloads his seed within the latex layer keeping them scarcely separated.

And then they’re left motionless in silent, heavy warmth. Their labored breaths mingle over the distant night cacophony, roaring on beyond this small, separate world they’ve carved out for themselves.

They linger in this suspended state until finality presses them to part. And as Max slowly draws back, slipping away from Darryl…

They share an unspoken desire to remain wrapped in each other’s closeness just a little while longer.

Copyright © 2026 vixenvows. All rights reserved.

[invincble]

୭ ˚. daryl helps max to get an orgasm like the good boyfriend he is | +18

tw! older!man x younger!man. oral sex. masturbation

Max is in his fifties. Not exactly old, but not young either. Honestly, he doesn’t look too bad; women on the street look at him with the eyes of someone about to commit a sin, a sign that he isn’t as washed-up as he thought. A lack of facial hair and a history of exercise have worked in his favor; his dark skin is free of wrinkles and sunspots, mature enough to make the ladies get wet just looking at him.

He’s divorced and childless, but he has a partner, Daryl. Daryl is thirty; young in his own right, but his long curls, soft skin, and lack of stress made him look even more youthful. Max constantly worries that their age gap is glaringly obvious, even though they’re both grown men with their own responsibilities.

Another thing is his libido; he’s at an age where sex is practically just another struggle. He’s no longer the uncoordinated, frenetic disaster he was in his twenties; his erections take a little longer to rouse, and a single orgasm is enough to leave him spent.

He sits on the edge of the double bed and sighs; another day at the office done. He reaches up to massage a tense muscle in his shoulder, work has been heavier than usual, if that decrepit old man they call the boss doesn’t lighten the load, one of them (most likely him) will have to take matters into their own hands, and it wouldn’t be peaceful.

The bathroom door opens, signaling that Daryl has finished his bedtime routine. He emerges wrapped in a white silk robe; his body gives off an exquisite scent, his hair is damp, dark strands falling over his forehead and angelic face. A smile plays on his lips as he moves closer to sit on Max’s lap; he wraps a strong arm around his slender waist, his grip firm yet gentle against the skin. Daryl settles onto his thighs with a tantalizing confidence, his hands still cool from the water, finding a resting place at the nape of the older man’s neck. The vanilla lotion envelops Max like a soothing balm, easing the irritation caused by his boss over the past twelve hours.

“Still awake, old man?” Daryl teases, bringing his face close to the other man’s neck and lightly brushing his nose against the skin.

Max chuckles, a low, resonant sound. “Old man? Careful, Daryl. This ‘old man’ is still paying the mortgage for this view,” he says, gesturing toward the room’s floor-to-ceiling windows.

Daryl’s soft fingers trace the line of Max’s collarbone before drifting down to his covered chest. “You aren’t old, Max. Just… seasoned, like a fine wine.” He tilts his head slightly, his voice dropping to a silky whisper. “And I’m very thirsty…”

Max lets out a low growl, a mix of exhaustion and pent-up desire. He slides his free hand from Daryl’s waist to the small of his back, feeling the smoothness of the silk and, beneath it, the radiant warmth of his freshly bathed skin.

“Thirsty, huh?” Max repeats, his voice deepening.

Daryl doesn’t answer with words. He presses his lips against Max’s firm jaw, leaving a damp trail down to his neck; he tangles his fingers in the short hair and gives a gentle tug, while his other hand wanders over Max’s torso, toying with the buttons. The robe slips off his shoulder, revealing the perfect curve of his collarbone. Max lets out a hoarse sigh, a large, firm-fingered hand squeezing Daryl’s thigh.

“You’ve got a lot of energy for this late,” Max murmurs against Daryl’s ear, feeling the younger man shiver in his lap.

Daryl simply chuckles against him. He strokes Max’s chest and begins unbuttoning his shirt, sliding his warm hands beneath the fabric to knead the well-sculpted pectorals, his thumbs find the dark nipples and give them a firm twist. Max hisses with pleasure; though he’s usually the one in control, he loves the way Daryl takes possession of his body. The younger man’s hands snake down toward Max’s dress trousers, fervently caressing the thick length of his cock through the fabric.

Max mutters a curse under his breath, feeling a familiar heat slowly stir in his groin. Daryl briefly leaves his partner’s swelling member to finish with his shirt, pushing it off Max’s shoulders and letting it fall onto the sheets. Max’s dark, solid torso is revealed in the room’s dim light; Daryl runs his tongue over his own lower lip, admiring the symmetry of muscles that despite the passing years, retain an enviable firmness.

Daryl runs his slender hands down the expanse of Max’s torso to his belt, deftly unfastening it and undoing his fly, freeing the older man’s penis without fully removing his boxers. He holds the heavy member in his hand; the tip is flushed a deep, angry red, even though it isn’t yet fully erect. Thick veins run along the length of the shaft like vines, one of them seemingly throbbing with arousal. The younger man bites his lip hard with excitement.

He wraps his palm around the member, applying pressure at the base to help concentrate the blood flow. He slowly caresses the glistening head with his thumb, Max lets out a hoarse sigh and props himself up on his elbows against the mattress, feeling a heavy heat rapidly building in response to the stimulating touch.

Daryl shifts to get more comfortable on the older man’s thighs, his robe slipping off his shoulders to reveal his smooth skin. He lowers one hand to Max’s testicles, cradling them gently, while his other hand fully encircles the cock and begins a slow up-and-down motion, ensuring his thumb presses against the frenulum on every upward stroke.

Max throws his head back, letting out a deep growl. “Shit, Daryl—right there.”

Daryl pauses his movements to climb off Max’s lap and kneel in front of him. He leans in, bringing his mouth close to the flushed head of the cock and planting soft kisses before enclosing it within his warm lips. He sucks gently, using his tongue to clear away the pre-cum while keeping his hands in play, feeling the member rising more and more.

Max grips the sheets tightly between his fingers, feeling spasms of pleasure race up his spine. He watches Daryl take him into his mouth once more before sliding lower, pausing briefly to suppress any gag reflex, and continuing until the tip of his nose brushes against Max’s pubic hair.

Daryl’s mouth is incredibly warm and wet, comforting, even, as he begins to move his head up and down with precision, a low moan caught in his throat. His lips look so beautiful wrapped around Max’s thick cock, yet the image is simultaneously so obscene. Daryl looks so sweet, eager to please a man older than himself, so willing to help him reach his climax.

Max tangles his fingers in those curls, which are beginning to dry and fluff up, and presses Daryl’s head closer, feeling Daryl’s throat constrict around his thickness. Daryl lets out a muffled groan, intensifying the suction and using his tongue to trace the veins. Max furrows his brow and clenches his jaw, feeling a familiar tingling sensation build in his abdomen.

“Daryl…” he warns in a husky voice, his hand tightening in the curls.

Daryl looks up, his eyes shining with devotion and mischief beneath long lashes. Seeing Max’s face filled with pleasure and the sweat beading on his forehead, he sucks harder, curling his tongue around the head of the cock and speeding up the movement of his hand at the base.

Max’s breathing was becoming labored, his grip on the thin sheets fierce; the constant stimulation and the heat of his partner’s mouth were almost too much—it was always too much when it came to Daryl.

“I’m… I’m going to finish, baby,” he growls. Daryl lets out a low, appreciative moan and moves his hands to Max’s toned thighs, squeezing them without breaking contact with his cock, offering his mouth as a sanctuary.

Max lets out a hoarse groan; his body goes completely rigid, and his hips lift slightly off the mattress. His release is moderate, unhurried; his hot, thick cum is taken into Daryl’s throat, he swallows with slight difficulty, the movement of his Adam’s apple visible in the dim light. The thing is, he doesn’t have much to give, that’s how it’s been since he turned fifty, but the younger man always seems delighted, no matter how small the amount.

Max collapses heavily back onto the sheets, catching his breath; the stress of work had vanished, replaced now by the physical afterglow of an orgasm, though the latter was definitely a better sensation.

Daryl pulls his mouth away with a wet sound and licks his lips, savoring the lingering taste of Max. He rises from the floor with his knees trembling slightly, and lets his robe drop; his cheeks are flushed, and he looks satisfied with a job well done. He crawls across the mattress to Max’s broad chest and rests his head there, feeling the rapid rhythm of Max’s heartbeat.

“I’m not thirsty anymore,” he says, smiling like the cat that got the cream, tracing the line of a pectoral muscle with a slender finger.

Max sighs, his large hand drifts lazily to the small of Daryl’s back, caressing the area tenderly.

“You’re going to be the death of me one of these days, really,” he murmurs, offering a weary smile and planting a quick kiss on the crown of Daryl’s head.

Daryl just giggles and snuggles closer into his warmth.

seeing an interview with the cast of expendables 3 led me to do this, oof

invincble © 2026, please do not remake, duplicate, translate or feed my works to aiㆍall rights reserved.

[deerchael]

daryl doodles<3

[hexagramdeaf]

maxryl one shot

med student daryl x post canon mini max

18 + content warning : cnc , no penetration , edging , and fingering

daryl sits at the dining table hunched over with his nose in a book, notebook papers scattered all across the table. he chews on the cap of his pen before moving to write another note on the mesenteric arteries. the young scholar is so engrossed in his studies, that he doesn't hear the soft creaking of floorboards as his partner approaches. "you're still studying?" max whispers into the shell of daryl's ear, causing him to jump and drop his pen. "jesus christ you scared the shit out of me!" he gasps.

" 'm sorry baby, i was missin' you." max's arms wrap around daryl's shoulders from behind. daryl leans his back against the chair, his head still tilted up in max's direction. "well, i'll be done soon, okay?" his hand brushes against max's forearm, rubbing up and down gently before trying to pull him off of him. "but i need to get these notes finished." max grip tightens and daryl can no longer pull him off.

"it's been an hour, you can take a break."

daryl's jaw clenches as tries to pull away feeling max's hand begin to glide up his shirt. max leans down pressing his lips against daryl's silencing any protest he may have. curious finger find daryl's nipple, tweaking and rubbing it between thumb and index finger. daryl whimpers into max's mouth, his hands clutching onto both of max's forearms. max breaks the kiss his hand moving out from under his lover's shirt. "get up." daryl swallows obidently rising to his feet, max grabs him instantly with one arm pulling him against his body.

he moves all of daryl's papers and study material out of the way before turning him over and laying him on the table. daryl doesn't dare to say anything, allowing max to pull off his sweats for him, tossing them carelessly to the side. "you're already wet , cute. just from one little kiss? a simple touch?" max teased, his hand finding the wet spot on daryl's boxers and rubbing the outline of his tip with his forefinger. daryl whined, his face coloring a deep shade of pink. "stop." he whispered, even though he truly doesn't want max to stop.

"what was that?" max stops rubbing his print, illiciting a low whine from daryl. "no! no please, i didn't mean it..." max tilts his head leaning forward just slightly, the corners of his mouth quirking up in amusement. "then what is it? what do you want from me?" daryl gnawed in the inside of his cheek staring up at max with watery eyes. "touch me." max smirks completely. "say it louder." god he is such a prick! "p-please touch me." daryl says a louder, a bit more bass in his voice.

max hand returns stroking daryls print a bit faster this time. "good boy." daryl's breath quickened his moans growing louder with each stroke. his face was flushed, his eyes glossy with unshed tears. "alright, that's enough. Turn over." max instructed. daryl quickly turned himself over onto his stomach, his lower half left dangling at the end of the table.

max runs his hands up daryl's sides stopping at his hips, thumbs pressing into his lower back, slowly grinding into the flesh. daryl gasps his entire body shivering from the touch. max's fingers hook into the waistband of his boxers sliding them down past daryl's thighs. daryl was rock hard his shaft already leaking pre-cum, max didn't touch him there however his hands busy grasping the flesh of his ass.

max brang one hand up to daryl's face, pressing two fingers to his lips. "suck." daryl obediently opens his mouth and takes the two fingers between his tongue. After a moment of suckling max removes them and starts to prob daryl's hole. daryl whimpers, rambling on for max not to tease although that just makes him want to tease more. "alright, alright, relax cupcake." he says, fingers slowly starting to push inside. daryl cries out at the stretch, so familiar, yet painful. max moves his hand slowly, fingers curling up slightly.

"max, please touch me!" daryl moans, openly crying now as max's pace increases, becoming incredibly intense. his cock left hard and neglected below him, more of that incredible pleasure blossoming inside of him. max chuckles to himself, enjoying seeing daryl come undone. "repeat that for me?" he slams his fingers harshly inside of him once more illiciting a particularly loud moan from daryl. "please touch me! I want to cum!" satisfied with that answer max brings his hand around to daryl's front quickly stroking his flushed member, bringing him to release. daryl's body tenses up, his lower half shaking with the aftershocks of his orgasm. "ah, fuck." he pants, turning his head over and against the table, sweat slicked skin sticking to the polished wood.

max moves his hand from inside of daryl causing them both to grunt softly. Then moving his other hand from beneath him, now covered in daryl's cum, greedy licking it off his palm. "you made such a mess. you should clean up cupcake." he teased, staring down at daryl's still writhing body. daryl glares up at him, letting out a small huff. "shut up."

thanks for reading ! 🦄

I didn't really proof read this so there may be mistakes :p

[michaeljacksonsbuckles]

Fanfic Intro: The Story of Daryl and Max

Fandom: Michael Jackson's Bad video

[yumeeyuu]

Ooooooh there will be more maxryl shippers and sub!Mike truthers, writers and artists this year ooooooooh

[a-major-love]

Keep Sticking Around

Pairing - Daryl x Max

Summary - It seemed as if every conversation between them eventually led to college.

Word Count - 762

Warnings - established friendship, third person pov, light angst, swearing

A/N - I hate the description, and there's also no moodboard I'm sorry. Anyways, this is sort of an idea into my writing style for the two, and what I sort of have planed for future fics. My writing is a little clunky atm, as I'm a little rusty - give me time and it won't read like complete crap I swear. Enjoy!

Daryl watched, from behind the register, as his friend rotated the same copy of Evil Dead in his hands for the umpteenth time. He wasn’t surprised when Max placed it back on the shelf and continued to gloss over the other faded VHS covers with vague interest. The clock on the wall suggested this had been going on for ten minutes, but for Daryl it was routine now.

“You do know I could kick you out for loitering, right?”

Max scoffed. “Like you’d ever get rid of me.”

“Well, you’re pushing your luck,” Daryl mumbled, shaking his head. He pulled his gaze away from his friend, and slouched against the counter’s edge, allowing his tired body to forgo the upright customer service position he was forced to maintain during the day. Aside from Max’s wandering presence, the shabby Video Value store was empty. A stream of muffled rock music played through a speaker in the corner, filling the usual gaps of silence that Daryl would have been left with during a slow workday.

It was a cramped space, with the shelves creating a tight labyrinthic path around the store. Posters lined the surrounding white walls, covering nearly every inch of paint and the dull blue carpet added a nice contrast from the array of colorful VHS covers. Sometimes, when the workday was nothing more than a slow crawl, Daryl imagined his own face on the movie covers to pass the time.

“Where’d your co-worker run off to?” Max asked, from behind one of the displays.  

“Hell, if I know,” Daryl answered, “he went on his lunch break nearly two hours ago.”

“So, Mel just dumped the work on you again?”

Daryl heavily sighed, as if it might release the weight in his chest. “I don’t know why you’re asking, you already know he does.”

Mel was a slim, broad-shouldered man with a receding hairline and a ponytail tied too tight. He had been employed at Video Value for four years now, something he often boasted about to every approaching customer. Daryl wasn’t sure how he kept the job, as his work ethic was lazy and often included him taking prolonged breaks. As far as co-workers went, he was unbearable.

“Why even bother working here?” Max approached the counter; hands stuffed inside his worn hoodie and leaned against it. His presence was so close that Daryl could make out the familiar scent of his woody cologne, causing his stomach to coil. He cleared his throat, and properly stood up to, struggling to ignore how the fragrance coated his tongue with every breath he took. There was distance now, which allowed Daryl to properly look at his friend.

“I’m saving up for college,” Daryl replied, as if it were obvious.

Max’s lips curled into an amused smirk. “What, you think you’re gonna impress the trust fund babies up at Harvard with your minimum wage check?”

“God, Max, it’s not about that,” Daryl grumbled, feeling his back tense up in frustration. It seemed as if that school’s name sat on Max’s tongue every day, just waiting to fall into conversation. “I’m not trying to go in flat broke, that’s all.”

“I’m just saying,” Max said, throwing his hands up in defense, “if you wanna make some real money, then–

“It’s not fucking happening,” Daryl immediately said, cutting off his friend with a steel glare.

Max pushed himself off the counter and faced him with a leveled stare. Daryl blinked and felt something crawl up his spine at the sight of his friends’ dark eyes solely fixed on him. They were deep, like the dark corners of his bedroom, or the pervasive night skin that hung over his bedroom window. Daryl wondered that if Max looked at him long enough, that he might eventually see past him. The thought made his throat dry, as he shifted his gaze away to stare at the keychain display beside him.

“What’s your problem, you’re tryna make money, right?”

Daryl pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “I’m trying to save up, not land my ass in jail before I leave.”

“Right, before you leave,” Max muttered. The words sat between them, heavy with a strange bitterness that knocked Daryl back.

What followed was not silence, but the beginning of Remember the Nights by The Motels, as the song softly played from the speaker.

In between the husky vocals of Martha Davis, and the thrumming of Daryl’s heart, something lodged itself in between him and Max. As if the hands of change were already working against them, before graduation.