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He doesn’t know what to do with himself anymore.
He doesn’t know how to do this anymore.
Everything hurts.
Everything shifts and twists and hurts inside of him, and Max grips his fingers into the fabric of his jeans, pulling harshly. It scratches at his skin just a little, leaving soft red marks on the skin that he can’t see. He doesn’t feel it. Not really. It’s hard to feel it anymore.
It’s hard to feel much of anything anymore.
He supposes that isn’t completely true. He still feels. Happiness at Nikki’s excited smile, endearment at the hushed words that Neil whispers to him at midnight, begrudging affection when David hugs him close. He still feels, all this love and care that runs through his veins, itching for a way out, for someone to notice.
That hurts too. The love inside of him. The desperation for love, for affection, for safety and comfort and family, something that he’s never had. Something that he doesn’t even really know how to yearn for, a memory of something that never happened. He just knows he wants it, needs it, something and somewhere and someone to love.
He doesn’t think he’ll ever get it.
If he was meant for love, he’d have found it by now. It would have worked out by now.
But it hasn’t, and he’s alone again.
Parents that don’t care.
Counsellors that don’t understand.
Friends that leave him behind.
Nothing ever works. No one ever stays.
Everyone cares, everyone likes him, but never enough to stay, never enough to hold him close when he needs it, to listen to every word and understand him. No one ever cares enough to love him.
He supposes he’s never going to have people understand anyway. They can’t understand when he can’t get the words out, can’t tell them everything that’s going on inside of him.
Still, he wants it. Understanding that he can’t allow himself to have.
That he’ll never have.
Because now maybe it’s too late.
He knows it isn’t. There’s still time. He’s young, he’s so young; but he’s not, not really. He’s grown up fast. He’s young and old and full of wonder and full of dread, a mess of contradictions that he doesn’t think deserve the happiness that he wants.
Maybe that’s why people don’t stay. He doesn’t deserve it.
He’s meant to be alone.
By himself.
A world to explore, and no one to explore it with. So much to see, so many blades of grass to count and streams to splash in and sunsets to watch, and no one to hold close while he does it. No one to love, and no one to love him.
There’s only nothing.
A dull, empty feeling inside of him, a void of nothingness that makes his head spin, and Max grips the ground for balance. It’s sturdy, something still and flat and secure, and he clutches the grass below him, letting the feel of it be his lifeline.
He can hear everything in the distance; an explosion from Neil’s experiments, a scream of justice as Nerris throws her sword, a cackle of laughter as Nikki chases the platypus across the lawn. It should make him feel better, the sounds of the people he cares about being so happy, being themselves in all the ways that he adores. But they’re so far away; only metres across the lawn, but a million miles away from really being with him.
They’re happy together. And he’s glad that they’re happy, he really is. It’s all he’s ever wanted for them. He just wishes he still felt like he was a part of it, like he could bring them the happiness that they already have. But he can’t. Not anymore. They’ve moved on, found love in new ways and people and places, and he’s obsolete. He’s useless, he’s broken, and they don’t need him anymore.
Maybe they never did.
He doesn’t know.
Maybe Nikki never needed him, to share her adventures with.
Maybe Neil never needed him, to rant about far-fetched theories to in the middle of the night.
Maybe David never needed him. He knows David loves him. But he also knows that he’s only ever brought David pain, only ever been a problem that David had to fix despite being so exhausted already.
He’s only ever been a problem, for everyone he’s ever come in contact with.
He’s never really been very good at being... well, good.
He doesn’t know how.
All he does is hurt people; is make things worse.
Memories come flashing back to him, and he clutches his hoodie tighter around his shoulders, breathing faster.
His time at school, labelled as strange and different.
Slammed doors at home, awful words being fired across the room like bullets straight to his chest.
His first day at camp, angry and abandoned and surrounded by positivity that he couldn’t bring himself to feel.
It’s too much, everything is always too much, and he doesn’t know how to cope with it anymore. Being with people has only ever brought pain for everyone, himself included. And he doesn’t want to think it, doesn’t want to believe it, but maybe he’s better off alone.
He’ll miss everyone.
Nikki’s hair flying in the wind, Neil’s awkward smile over a shared joke, Space Kid’s eyes shining up at the stars, David’s arms around him holding him tight. A future that he could almost see, could almost feel. He’d miss it, if he left them all.
He supposes leaving everything behind might hurt even more. He really would be alone.
He’s used to it by now though.
The freedom of having no one. It’s sad, and lonely, and leaves him with emotion that he can never get out, but it’s strangely liberating.
Doing anything, everything, with no one to hold him back. No risk of arguments, of upset, of being left behind. No risk of everything falling apart.
Just himself, alone in the world and terrified.
Just himself, gripping his arms tightly and leaving crescent-shaped dents in his skin.
Just himself, with screams of happiness that he can’t be a part of echoing through his mind.
Just himself, useless.
Never enough.
Broken and worthless and unneeded.
Just himself, like he always is. Like he’s never wanted to be. Like he hates, more than anything.
Just himself, shaking and scared.
Just himself.
Alone.