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1985.
It isn’t Max’s original plan to break up with Lucas the day she does, it just kind of happens.
She had tried to pretend after Starcourt and Billy’s death, and for a few months, it worked, until it didn’t. Until Neil broke what was left of their barely put together family and left her and her mom to fend for themselves. Until her mom disappeared into herself and her booze and left Max to fend for the both of them.
Lucas has never stopped trying, though, and Max desperately needs him to.
She needs him to stop calling and stop coming around her trailer and stop pretending that anything is like it was or ever could be again. Like she ever could be.
Max isn’t the girl Lucas crushed on and dated in middle school anymore, the girl that could claim the high score on any game at the Palace Arcade, the girl that fought for her place in the Party and didn’t take anyone’s shit. The girl that cared about those things, or anything at all.
She’s not that girl anymore but Lucas keeps pretending she is, and Max can’t take it anymore.
So she breaks up with him on a whim one day after school, without thinking about the words she’s saying before she’s saying them, and then she can’t take them back, even if she wanted to.
“What?” he asks, stunned and frozen in place, like he somehow didn’t see this coming despite the growing distance she’s worked to put between them.
Max stops, barely turns back to face him, and repeats herself. “I think we need to break up.”
Her voice is steady and confident and firm, even though she can’t bring herself to look at him. But her words get through this time, and his panic kicks into high gear.
“Max, no,” Lucas says quickly, narrowing the space between them swiftly, hands pressed together like a prayer. “No, you don’t mean that.”
She bristles as his words.
“Don’t tell me what I mean,” she scoffs, taking a step away from him and holding her skateboard to her chest, like it will stop him from seeing through her. “Or how I feel.”
Lucas immediately looks chastised and softens.
“That’s not what I meant,” he says slowly, looking her in the eyes as he hesitantly adds, “But do you? Feel… anything?”
Max’s bristles turn to thorns and her gaze hardens defensively. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” Lucas sighs, his hands now signaling surrender. “Nothing, I just… Please, don’t do this, okay? Do you want more space? Because I can give you more space.” He’s a pathetic mix of desperate and defeated, but still, he just won’t stop trying. “I’ll, I’ll stop calling so much. And I won’t come to the trailer without an invite either and I’ll-”
Max can’t stand to listen to it for a second more.
“Lucas, stop,” she snaps, her words clear and final. This isn’t like all those other times; this isn’t a game or a power play or something she wants him to talk her out of. “Just stop. I don’t want you to do any of that. I don’t want you to do anything, except leave me alone. For good.”
Lucas’ face drops, heartbreak written all over it, and seeing it fall and knowing she’s the cause of it is the closest Max has come to feeling anything in weeks.
So she turns around, drops her board to the ground and skates away before she can feel anything more.
1986.
Lucas doesn’t leave her alone. Of course he doesn’t.
He gives her space and he doesn’t bother her much and he expects nothing from her, but he still finds ways to make sure she knows he’s there if she changes her mind.
But she doesn’t.
Until she does.
Because after coming within moments of dying a horrifying and painful death before being brought back from the brink through the power of love and friendship (and Kate Bush), Max doesn’t have much of a choice but to admit that maybe letting someone in - letting Lucas in - might actually help.
So she does.
“He used my darkest thoughts, my guilt, against me,” Max explains when Lucas tentatively asks what happened and how she is, and she tells him the truth for once. “About Billy, about his death. How it was my fault.”
Brows furrowed, Lucas moves closer to her on the couch, keeping his voice low so he doesn’t wake any of their sleeping friends.
“Max,” he says her name in that way that he does, like he loves her but thinks she’s being ridiculous. Then he waits a beat to make sure she’s listening. “That wasn’t your fault.”
“It was,” she disagrees, watching her fingers as they pick at the label on her Walkman. “I just, I just stood there. And… part of me…” Max swallows painfully, not able to look at the boy beside her as she admits her darkest secret to someone for the first time, including herself. “Part of me was relieved. The part of me that used to pray something bad would happen to him so he’d finally leave me alone. That part of me was relieved he died.”
She knows Lucas well enough to know he won’t judge her for it, but she’s still surprised by his immediate reassurance.
“But that doesn’t make it your fault,” he tells her, not missing a beat at her confession. “We all have bad thoughts sometimes.”
Max almost laughs at the idea that Lucas - the sweetest, kindest, dorkiest boy in the world - could ever think anything as dark as she has, even on his worst days.
“Not like that,” she denies shamefully, gaze still on her lap.
But Lucas isn’t deterred. “Do you know how many times I’ve wished Erica would get kidnapped just so I could have some peace and quiet?” he scoffs. “And she’s just super annoying, not-”
He stops short, but Max isn’t sure why. Because he doesn’t want to speak ill of the dead when it’s clearly a touchy subject for her? Or because he’s not sure which glowing adjective to use to best describe Billy?
“Cruel?” she guesses for him, finally forcing herself to look at Lucas now that she’s finishing his sentence. “Violent?” Racist? she wonders silently, because it’s something they’ve never talked about before.
But Lucas doesn’t bother picking a descriptor at all. “Look, I know that Billy was your brother-”
“Step-brother,” she automatically corrects, but it goes ignored.
“But the way he treated you was wrong,” the boy asserts, face and voice determined, leaving no room for argument. “You’re not a bad person because you prayed it would stop, and Billy didn’t die because you did.”
Max wishes she could believe that, that it could be that easy, but she can’t. She thinks Lucas believes it though, and maybe that can be enough for now.
“How do you know?” she wonders, insecure and open, and so of course Lucas goes for a joke to ease her out of her comfort zone.
“Because if praying for something made it come true, Janet Jackson would return my phone calls.” He grins, but it settles into something smaller as he adds; “And so would you.”
It’s his own kind of admission for the night, opening himself up a little the way Max has, and she doesn’t let it go unnoticed.
“For what it’s worth, I’m sure Janet’s sorry about that,” Max tells him, her own smile sheepish but sincere.
It’s obvious by the twitch of his lips that he gets what she’s not saying, but he knows her well enough to leave that thread be.
Instead, he nods, accepting her apology, and waits a beat before bringing the topic back around. “This wasn’t your fault, okay? And you couldn’t have stopped it.”
“You really think so?” Max wonders, sounding and feeling smaller than she is.
Lucas just grins and asks, “Would I lie?”
Any other boy, and Max probably would have scoffed and said yes without a second thought, but this isn’t any boy. It’s Lucas.
“No,” she decides surely, finally letting herself relax against his side and just let it all go, at least for tonight. “Friends don’t lie.”
And Max is sure in that moment that Lucas is the best friend she’s ever had.
1987.
By the time Max wakes up after her brain is used as a supernatural battlefield, the good guys have won, but everything has changed on her again, and it’s not any easier to adapt this time around, especially with four still mending limbs.
She tries harder this time though, and she lets Lucas help, too.
It works for a little while - or at least feels like it does - until most of her body is back, but eventually everything catches up with her at once, and Max feels her mind slipping down that hill again.
She tries to hang on, desperately scratching and clawing to get a grip instead of just letting herself fall like last time, but no matter how hard she tries, her body is still too weak and she just can’t seem to find it.
At least not in Hawkins.
So after an unmerry Christmas and an even unhappier New Years, two weeks into the second semester of sophomore year, Max decides she needs to move back to California.
She doesn’t want to leave her friends, and she really doesn’t want to leave Lucas, but she needs to, and Ms. Kelly says recognizing that is no small thing.
Her dad came while she was in the hospital and stayed until she woke up; her parents bonded over their worry and made peace, so he’s happy to have them both come stay with him until they’re able to find a place of their own.
It’s the best thing for her, and everyone knows that, but it doesn’t make them any happier to lose her.
“The party won’t be the same without our Zoomer,” Mike says when she breaks the news to everyone, but she can tell he gets it.
Dustin does too, and Will and El better than either of them - even though the other girl looks close to tears when she tells her as much - but it’s the look on Lucas’ face that hurts Max the most, his understanding heartbreak.
He got her back when it seemed impossible that he would, but now he’s going to lose her anyway.
“When are you leaving?” he asks quietly, trying and failing to keep his voice even.
Max is only marginally more successful when she answers, “Next weekend.”
Lucas nods but doesn’t say anything else, and despite Dustin’s best efforts, the rest of lunch is almost unbearably somber.
Max spends her last night in Hawkins in Mike Wheeler’s basement, watching movies and playing games with all of her friends.
She insisted she didn’t want any kind of big, sappy goodbye, and makes them all promise not to be weird or weepy, and for the most part, they oblige; Steve does try his hardest to impart as much of his wisdom as he can and Robin is extra talkative, but Max lets it slide.
They stay up until well past their bedtime and then all fall asleep in various uncomfortable positions around the room, and Max is gone by the time they wake up in the morning.
She only lets Lucas come to the trailer to say goodbye, because she thought it would be easier this way, but it’s really not.
Max tries not to cry and Lucas tries harder, but both of them are failing.
“Geez, it’s not like it’s the end of the world or anything,” Max laughs pathetically, not sure who she’s trying to convince. “And we’ve survived that already.”
“True,” Lucas agrees, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach his watery eyes. “And you’re just going to California, not the Upside Down. We can still write, you love writing letters.”
Max rolls her eyes at the playful jab, thinking of the unopened letter she made Lucas give back, that’s tucked in the bottom of a suitcase in the U-Haul; she let him keep her drawing of them at the movies, though, and is happy knowing it’s safe in a frame in his room.
“And you can call,” she reminds him pointedly.
“I’ve already started saving up,” he promises proudly.
“Maxine!” her mom suddenly shouts, and when Max follows her voice, she sees her parents have finished loading up the truck.
“Time to go, kiddo,” her dad confirms, tapping his watch once before getting into his car. He’s giving them another couple minutes, but that’s all.
Lucas watches silently, his eyes welling again and his grip on her hands tightening as he realizes just how little time they have left together.
There’s so much he wants to say, Max can tell, but what he settles on is just; “I’m really gonna miss you, Mad Max.”
She appreciates it so much, she stops trying to keep her own tears from falling.
“I’m really gonna miss you too, Stalker,” she admits through them, giving him a sad smile and shaking his hands as she says, “Don’t forget about me, okay?”
“Forget you?” he repeats with mock disbelief, scrunching his face up in an obvious attempt to make her laugh. “Never. I’m gonna think of you every time I hear Kate Bush. Or see someone with red hair. Or a girl on a skateboard or kicking a guy’s ass at the arcade or-”
Max kisses him before he can continue, suddenly pushing up on her toes and pressing her lips against his to stop his rambling.
It’s a lot like their first kiss was - impulsive, innocent and a result of feelings she doesn’t know how else to express - but this won’t be as happy a memory.
It’s not the kind of kiss Max wants to give Lucas before she leaves and maybe never sees him again, but her parents are probably watching them, and anything more would probably just make walking away even harder, so this is enough.
He’s stunned when it’s over; not so much so that he doesn’t return the hug she gives him right after, but enough so that he doesn’t get a chance to say anything else before she pulls away, runs over to her mom’s car, and doesn’t look back.
1988.
As badly as Max wanted them to stay in touch, she’s much too realistic - and pessimistic - a person to believe they actually would.
She’d made all the same promises to her friends in California when she originally moved to Hawkins, and that had only lasted a couple of months before they all stopped trying, so why would this time be any different?
But Lucas proves her wrong, just like he always does, because over a year later, he’s still writing and calling, just like he said he would.
He got a job at the local sporting goods store right after she moved, and any money that doesn’t go towards getting the car Steve promised to teach him how to drive, goes towards their bi-weekly long distance calls.
Every other Thursday night, at 7 o’clock sharp, Max’s phone rings and she talks to Lucas about absolute nonsense for twenty minutes straight, and it’s always the best part of her week.
She tells him all about her friends - who are nowhere near as cool as her friends in Hawkins, but that’s the one thing she doesn’t tell him about them - and any new interests she’s picked up, and he gives her updates on the Party, how many times El and Mike have broken up since they last spoke, and how he’s doing with basketball.
They also talk about new music and movies and TV shows, giving each other recommendations to watch or listen to, so they can report back with reviews or compare notes the next time they talk, so they still feel like things they’re doing together.
It’s the easiest thing in a world full of hard things to Max, talking to Lucas, even from over 2,000 miles away.
They never talk about his new girlfriend, though.
The only reason Max even knows about her is because El mentioned her in one of her letters - Lucas has a new girlfriend. Her name is Samantha. She is pretty and nice but she does not like to hang out with us very much. I think you are prettier and nicer and a better girlfriend. I think Lucas thinks so too - but Lucas hasn’t said her name once.
Max gets it, he’s probably afraid to make things awkward, but it already feels awkward for her, waiting for him to bring it up, so she decides to do it for him.
“How come you’ve never told me about Samantha?” she wonders a few weeks after getting El’s letter, just as he finishes telling her about the latest girl Steve is trying to get with.
There’s a long pause over the line, the kind that never happens because they never have time to waste, and Max almost smirks at her ability to render him speechless.
“W-what?” Lucas eventually sputters out. “How, how do you know about Samantha?”
“El,” she answers simply, knowing Lucas won’t get mad at the other girl. “Why didn’t you tell me you got a new girlfriend? Did you think I’d be jealous or something?”
“No,” he answers quickly.
“Because we broke up, like, forever ago,” Max reminds him, and herself. Not that she needs it or anything.
There’s another pause, but this time, she suspects it’s because Lucas is trying to choose his words carefully.
“I didn’t think you’d be jealous,” he states firmly, and a little sadly, like he wishes she would be. “I was just afraid that it would make things awkward, and we get so little time to actually talk, I didn’t want to waste any of it being weird. I don’t like it when things are weird between us.”
His explanation kind of warms Max’s heart a little, and any bit of annoyance she felt at his secret keeping - which, admittedly, wasn’t much to begin with - disappears; he always makes it impossible to be mad at him.
“I hate to break it to you, Lucas, but we’re already weird,” she teases him, fighting her smile even though he can’t see it anyway.
“Speak for yourself,” Lucas scoffs playfully. “Maybe you’re a weirdo, but I’m officially one of the cool kids now. Starting point guard, remember?”
Max rolls her eyes fondly. “And let me guess, Samantha’s a cheerleader, too?” She’s joking, but the lack of an immediate denial is all the answer she needs and she barks out a laugh. “Shut up, she is?!”
“She’s one of the nice ones, okay?”
And just like that, everything is normal between them again.
Max gets a letter from Lucas the following week, just like she always does, and she’s not shocked to find he has a lot more to say on the subject.
They’ve both always been a lot more open in their letters than in their phone calls; it’s a lot easier to be vulnerable in a one way conversation, Max knows that better than anyone.
So when she opens his letter and finds unabashed honesty scribbled across the page, she’s only surprised by the actual words, not that Lucas was brave enough to write them.
Dear Mad Max,
I know we already talked about it on the phone, but you deserve a better answer. You asked me why I didn’t tell you about my new girlfriend, and while the explanation I gave you wasn’t a lie, it wasn’t the whole truth, either.
The truth is, I didn’t tell you about Samantha because I didn’t think it was important enough to mention. She’s pretty and smart and I guess I like her, but she doesn’t get along with the Party and she doesn’t like any of the same movies I do and she wouldn’t be caught dead reading a comic book. Steve’s newest girl has a better chance of sticking around than she does.
I thought I missed having a girlfriend, but it’s not like it was with you at all. We don’t make bets on who can get a higher score in Dig Dug and she doesn’t try to teach me to skateboard and then laugh at me when I fall on my butt. She doesn’t like to make up conversations between strangers or play pranks on Dustin and she thinks El is weird. Even Erica thinks I could do better.
So I don’t know. I don’t think I missed having a girlfriend, I think I just missed you.
Love, Lucas.
Max reads it another three times before she finally puts it down, tucking it under her mattress for safe keeping, and when she gets up to go help her mom with dinner, she can’t keep the smile off her face.
1989.
Senior year isn’t as hard as Max thought it would be, but that doesn’t mean it’s not as stressful.
Max has never been great at thinking about her future, let alone planning it; it’s not like she didn’t think she’d have one - she’s not that pessimistic, for the most part - it’s just that she’s learned the hard way not to make too many plans, because the universe loves to shit on them.
But senior year is all about the future and it’s all about planning and it’s really starting to get to Max.
It’s like everywhere she turns, there’s a new decision she has to make.
Does she want to go to college? Yes.
Where does she want to go to college? She’s torn between staying in California or going back East, because honestly, after two years, she thinks she’s ready now.
What does she want to major in when she gets there? She hasn’t decided for sure, but she’s been looking into computer science and video game design and that seems pretty cool.
What college is even going to accept her? Knowing her luck, probably not the one Lucas gets into.
Because yeah. Lucas.
She’s not one of those girls that would ever base a life changing decision around a boy - especially not one she’s not even dating - but Max can’t pretend Lucas hasn’t factored into her thought process at all. He’s been answering the same questions she has and they’ve talked about it a lot lately, and some of their potential plans happen to overlap, so it’s just natural that she’s been keeping him in mind when considering her options.
But also, it’s because she misses him.
The phone calls and the letters are still consistent and they’re still good, but as time has gone on, they’ve stopped being enough; hearing Lucas’ voice is comforting, but she misses his face, and the Polaroids he sends of himself and the rest of the Party in his letters sometimes aren’t cutting it anymore, either.
And even though Max hasn’t told him that - because of course she hasn’t - he must know, because one Friday afternoon, without any warning, she comes home from school to find Lucas standing in her living room.
And Dustin, Steve and Robin, but there’s no denying who she spots first, and who’s responsible for the grin on her face.
“What the hell?” she laughs in disbelief, her backpack dropping to the floor with a heavy thud.
“Surprised?” her best friend wonders with a beaming smile of his own, and Max is thankful she doesn’t have to fight her instinct to run across the room and jump into his arms, because before she can even take a step forward, Lucas is coming to her.
He reaches her in just a few quick, long strides, and then engulfs her in the warmest hug she’s had in years; his laugh is immediately echoed by her own when he easily lifts her off the ground to spin her around, squeezing her tightly.
Max lets herself have this moment of joy openly and unguarded, leaving no room to doubt just how happy she is to see Lucas.
It isn’t until Dustin and Steve both obnoxiously clear their throats that Max even remembers they’re in the room too, but her cheeks only warm a little in embarrassment when her feet finally hit the ground again.
“What are you guys doing here?” she asks once Lucas has pulled away, unable to hide the delight from her voice as she finally acknowledges her other friends.
But Lucas is still the first to answer. “I came to see you,” he explains a little sheepishly, his hand still on her waist. “But if my mom asks, it was to tour colleges and seeing you was just a bonus.”
“I’m actually here to tour colleges,” Dustin explains as the other three people in the room finally move closer. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, too.”
“I’ve been promoted from babysitter to chaperone,” Steve pretends to complain, but the way he’s smiling at her gives him away.
Robin leans into his side as she casually explains, “I go where he goes; someone has to chaperone the chaperone.”
Max just laughs at them all and the immediate sense of familiarity of their presence; she knew she missed them, but it isn’t until this moment that she realizes just how much.
“Well, come on, kid,” Steve claps, clamping his hands on Dustin’s shoulders from behind as he walks them forward. “Are you gonna feed us or what?”
Lucas rolls his eyes at them right along with Max, offering her his hand to lead her into the kitchen after them.
They only stay for the weekend, but Max makes the most of it; she doesn’t waste time pretending to be annoyed or aloof.
She doesn’t purposely drive Steve crazy, she doesn’t make fun of Dustin (too much) and when Robin tries to be casual as she mentions a girl on the boardwalk being cute, she doesn’t tease her about it.
And when Lucas lays down on the grass beside her to look up at the stars, takes her hand in his and tells her how much he’s missed her, Max just threads their fingers together, shuffles closer and tells him the same thing.
“It’s really good to see you,” Lucas admits freely, no trace of the hesitation or sense of doubt she once put in his voice to be found. “You seem different. Still you, but less angry and sad.”
Max smiles softly into the dark, knowing exactly what he means; California’s been good for her.
“I am,” she confirms, brushing her thumb over his hand as if to prove just how much.
“I mean, I guess I knew that already,” Lucas muses, lolling his head to the side to look at her. “But it’s different seeing you, being with you. Better.”
The old her would’ve gotten defensive, assumed he meant she was better now than she was before, that the old her wasn’t any good. But as she turns her own head to look at him, she knows that’s not what he means at all, because she knows he’s always loved her for exactly who she is, every version of her.
“Yeah,” Max agrees softly, seeing this version of Lucas so clearly in this moment, even in the dark. Letters and phone calls don't do him, or this feeling, justice. “It is.”
Her friends are leaving again before she knows it, but after hugging Dustin, Steve and Robin goodbye, Max finds it’s easier to say goodbye to Lucas this time around, because she knows it won’t be nearly as long until she sees him again.
1990.
After all that, Max decides to stay in California for college.
She and Lucas both apply to six schools each, three of which are the same; Max gets accepted to half of hers, while Lucas gets into two thirds of his.
In the end, they both go to UCLA. It was Max’s first choice and Lucas’ second, but the partial basketball scholarship they offered was too good to pass up and he loves the Lakers.
(He loves Max, too.)
After a tough adjustment period, they’re easily able to fall into a routine, both together and separately. College is a lot different from high school - and for Lucas, California is a lot different from Hawkins - but after all they’ve been through, a little change is nothing.
It’s a little weird and a lot wonderful to have Lucas back in her life in such a present, permanent way, but Max gets used to that just as easily.
They both make their own friends and do their own things, but when they get free time, it’s usually spent with each other; Dustin is about an hour away at CalTech, so every once in a while it’s spent with him, too.
Max is pretty sure most of their friends think they’re dating and, sometimes, it feels like they are, but they’re not.
Not because they don’t want to - or, at least, not because Max doesn’t want to; she can’t speak for Lucas, but he does wear his heart on his sleeve, so - but rather because she’s not sure it’s the best idea.
Max fucked up last time, and while she’s not the same person as she used to be, she’s not confident enough this version of her won’t hurt him just as badly, and she’s still pessimistic enough a person to doubt she’d get a third shot.
Lucas is a lot of things to Max, but before everything else, he’s her best friend, and she just can’t risk losing him.
So when she meets Charlie, it feels like a sign.
Max has gone on a few dates since she moved back to California, but Charlie is her first boyfriend since Lucas.
She isn’t looking for one when they meet, and she’s not even entirely sure how they go from talking music to getting a burger to going out, but they do. He’s this older, hot and broody Keanu Reeves-looking guy that she meets at the skate park and he’s the complete opposite of Lucas.
Which is why it makes sense that they clearly don’t like each other when they meet, but all three of them know that’s not the only reason.
Only one of them handles it maturely, though.
“I told you I had to go to Lucas’ game tonight,” Max sighs in frustration, starting a conversation it feels like they’ve had countless times already.
“You don’t have to,” Charlie argues, “you want to.”
“Of course I want to,” she replies incredulously, playing his accusation off like she doesn’t know what he’s getting at. “He’s my best friend and this is a big game for him.”
“Your best friend that’s totally in love with you,” her boyfriend scoffs, reaching for a cigarette. “And you know what, I’m starting to think you’re into him, too.”
Max rolls her eyes at starting to, as if this hasn’t been an issue for them since the very beginning.
“How many times do I have to tell you that it’s not like that?” she insists, throwing her hands up in frustration and spinning on the spot.
She’d feel bad about kind of lying, but Charlie is always an asshole about Lucas when Lucas has been nothing but respectful of their relationship, even though she knows it’s not easy for him; every day Max is thankful she decided against telling Charlie the full extent of their history if this is how he gets without knowing it.
“Then I don’t get why you want to go to some lame ass basketball game instead of hanging out here with me,” Charlie reasons, flicking his lighter on and staring her down challengingly. “You know, your actual boyfriend.”
Max can see exactly what he’s doing - she spent years living with Billy, and this guy has nothing on him - but she gives in anyway, because it makes it easier to deny the truth.
It’s been years since Max has hated herself the way she does for the way she starts pulling away from Lucas in favor of spending more time with Charlie, but it isn’t enough to make her stop.
The worst part is that Lucas doesn’t hate her, too.
“It’s not the first time a best friend has ditched me when they started dating someone,” Lucas assures her when she tries apologizing for canceling on him yet again, offering her a smile that doesn’t meet his eyes. “It’s cool, Max. I get it.”
But he doesn’t, not really, and if Max wasn’t such a coward, she’d explain it to him, but she is.
Then all too soon, summer break comes and Lucas goes back to Hawkins like they planned to do together, and she doesn’t. Instead, she stays in California with Charlie and doesn’t talk to Lucas for over two months.
So in the end, Max starts to lose her best friend anyway, and it takes her way too long to do anything to stop it.
Things with Lucas don’t get any better when he comes back and sophomore year starts, but they don’t get any worse, either.
They acknowledge each other on the rare occasions they cross paths and Max even secretly sits in on some of his games when she doesn’t have plans with Charlie, but they don’t talk, and it sucks, because more than anything, Max has always loved talking with Lucas. Even when she can't talk to him about the important stuff.
But no matter how strained things are between them, Lucas still proves himself to be the best person she knows when they find themselves at the same Halloween party, and Charlie finally takes things too far, with both of them.
He’s been drinking, which isn’t new, but he gets too handsy while they’re dancing and won’t take no for an answer, which is. Lucas sees and steps in, and it earns him two hard punches to the face, but it doesn’t stop him from getting Max the hell away from him and back to her dorm.
As soon as they get there, the roles reverse, and Max goes looking for something cold to put on Lucas’ face, while he sits himself on the floor beside her bed, leaning back against it as he waits for her.
“The first time we ever hung out was on Halloween,” he points out when she comes back with a can of Coke from the vending machine down the hall.
Max ignores his attempt at small talking down memory lane as she sits down across from him and presses the can to his slowly swelling eye, because for once, she doesn’t want to avoid the subject.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she tells him softly, her words laced with guilt for so much more than the black eye the boy is going to be sporting tomorrow morning.
“Yeah, I did,” Lucas disagrees completely, brows furrowed as he stares straight at her. “Of course I did.”
“Well, I didn’t deserve it,” she amends, grimacing when the can slips a little, making him flinch.
“What you didn’t deserve was how he was treating you,” he tells her firmly, gently taking the can from her and holding it to his face himself. Max tries to ignore the brief touch of their hands. “How he’s always treated you.”
It’s obvious that’s something Lucas has wanted to say to her all year, but felt it wasn’t his place to, but it’s not like it’s anything Max didn’t already know.
“For what it’s worth, he’s always been an asshole, but he’s never been like that before,” she assures him, not to defend Charlie, but to ease his mind.
It doesn’t seem to be worth much to Lucas.
“Why did you date him for so long?” he wonders, somehow managing not to sound accusatory or bitter, just sad for her. “Why did you date him at all? He’s such a jerk.”
Max only knows the answer to one of those questions, but she’s not sure it’s one she’s willing to give just yet. But she can’t give him nothing.
“Probably the same reason you dated Samantha for as long as you did even after what you told me,” is how she ends up explaining it.
It’s not the same, not without two thousand miles between them, but she doesn’t think it’s all that different, either.
Hand and can falling to his lap, Lucas regards her with curious eyes, trying to read between the lines. “Because you missed me?” he guesses, his mouth twitching up when Max gives him a small nod. “But I was right there.”
“I know,” Max admits shamefully, because that was the reason, too; she had missed him and she could actually have him, but she was scared. Her eyes well and her throat gets tight, but she still manages to say something she should have said a long time ago: “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, Lucas.”
But her best friend just smiles sadly and moves to sit beside her, pulling her into his side. “It’s okay,” he promises, holding her tightly. “I’m still here.”
1991.
They don’t bounce back as easily as they have in the past, but eventually, after Max puts in the work to make up for lost time, they find their rhythm again.
She still wants more, but for the first time, she’s not sure Lucas does, so Max is trying to learn to live with it. Which is a lot easier to do in California than it is to do in Hawkins.
After bailing the previous year, Max returns to Indiana with Lucas for the summer, and she’s surprised to find how comforting it is to be back there; to find how much it feels like home.
She’s still sure she made the right decision to leave all those years ago, but as the days go by and she reunites with friends that understand her more than anyone out West ever could, she wishes she’d come back to visit sooner.
Maybe if she had, she and Lucas wouldn’t still be tip-toeing around each other so much.
“I don’t get you two, man,” Steve bemoans when they get together to celebrate the 4th of July at the Wheeler house; it’s the first time they’ve all been together in years. “I would kill to have someone want me the way you guys want each other.”
Robin, hanging off Steve’s shoulder, agrees with a startling degree of investment. “I seriously can’t believe you haven’t gotten back together yet! What’s the hold up?”
This is the part where Max would normally snap, tell them to mind their business, and change the topic, but she doesn’t. As uncomfortable a conversation as it is to have, it’s about time she has it with someone, even if it’s not the person she should be having it with.
“Lucas is, like, the most important and consistent person in my life, okay?” she admits, honestly and only a little defensively. “I don’t want to fuck that up.”
“You already fucked it up, twice,” Dustin points out bluntly from her other side, knowing better than anyone after being on the receiving end of more than one phone call from both Lucas and Max over the last year. “And he’s still here.”
“Henderson’s right,” Steve agrees.
Robin snorts, “And you know how much Steve hates admitting that.”
And while Max knows it to be true, it’s Will that really gets through to her. He approaches her later in the evening, when he’s finally able to catch her alone.
“Not all of us are lucky enough to love people that love us back,” he tells her as he sidles up beside her, leaning against the brick wall and gazing out across the yard, where Lucas, Mike, El, Nancy and Jonathon are attempting to play hacky sack - and failing miserably. “Don’t take that for granted, okay?”
Not knowing what to say to that, Max just nods and shares a pained smile with Will as they stand there in silence, watching their best friends have fun without them.
Max isn’t sure if it’s being back in Hawkins, her friends’ encouragement or if she’s just met her limit after years of pining, but not too long after that afternoon, she makes up her mind.
She’s going to tell Lucas how she feels. She just has to figure out how.
A grand gesture? No, that’s much more Mike and El’s style.
A mixtape? Music is important to both of them, but relying on other people’s words feels like a cop out.
Then she remembers her letter - the letter - only to quickly nix that idea when she also remembers: I don’t need a letter, I don’t want a letter. Just talk to me.
Just talk to him, about the hard stuff; that’s all Lucas ever wanted from her and after all she’s put him through over the past few years, that feels like the least she can do.
As hard as that’s always been for Max, she at least has to try. For him.
Max tells herself that she has all summer, but she doesn’t want to waste time. She’s already wasted enough of that.
So instead of trying to figure out the perfect thing to say or the perfect moment or way to say it, Max just waits until a moment that feels right.
And she decides that moment is now, on a Friday afternoon in front of their old high school, while they’re waiting for Erica to finish the summer school tutoring she’d signed up to do for some extra cash.
This was where Max had broken up with him all those years ago, after all; it only seems fitting that she put herself out there at the same place she shut herself off from him.
“How long until Erica’s done?” she asks, nervously eyeing the front doors of the school she once used to walk through.
“Ten minutes,” Lucas answers, checking his watch. He doesn’t seem to pick up on her anxiety, and misreads her tone as impatience. “Sorry we got here so early.”
“No, no, it’s fine,” she quickly denies, pushing herself off his car to stand in front of him. “I actually wanted to talk to you about something before she comes out. Something important.”
Brows furrowed, Lucas glances around the empty school parking lot in confusion. “Here?”
“Yeah.” Max’s gaze drifts over in the direction of where she broke up with Lucas years ago and she nods resolutely. “Here.”
“Okay,” Lucas shrugs, standing up straight himself and taking a step closer to her when he senses just how nervous Max is. “Well, you know you can tell me anything, right? Even if it’s bad.”
“It’s not bad,” she assures him quickly, then second guesses herself. “At least, I don’t think it’s bad. Maybe you’ll think it’s bad.”
Reaching out to place a calming hand on her shoulder, Lucas ducks down a bit to catch her eyes and says, “Max, whatever it is, just say it.”
And suddenly, she can’t hold it in anymore.
“I love you,” Max blurts out before she realizes it, every version of this speech she’d half thought up in her head over the last few days disappearing from her mind at once.
She feels Lucas’ grip on her tighten before she notices the rest of his body tense, but the surprise in his warm brown eyes is what she sees first.
“What?” he whispers, as if there’s more ways for her to mean it, or as if he expects her to take it back. She doesn’t.
“I love you,” Max repeats, more steadily this time, not wanting to leave any room for doubt. “I’m in love with you. I have been for years.” Since the night of the Snow Ball, she’s pretty sure. “I think that’s why I broke up with you, because I didn’t want to be.” And as Max feels every ounce of the love she has for Lucas all at once, she remembers why. “I almost told you once, in that stupid letter you didn’t want. But even then, even when I thought I was gonna die, I still couldn’t say it. Hell, I couldn’t even write it. I was such a coward, I was ready to take that to my grave and let you live the rest of your life not knowing how I really felt.”
It’s such a stupid thing to regret, considering she didn’t die and Lucas never even read the letter, but she does regret it. Just another one on an already long list.
“Max,” Lucas sighs, and it’s the kind that she can’t read, but his eyes are still soft and kind, so Max keeps going.
“But I want you to know now,” she continues firmly, reaching up to take his hand off her shoulder and hold it in her own, like he did to her the morning they said their goodbyes in front of her trailer. “I don’t want to be scared of that anymore. I don’t want to be scared of anything anymore. Especially not something that’s good. And I think we could be good this time. I think we could be really good.”
A grin pulls at Lucas’ lips, but he tries to restrain it as best he can, along with his hopes. “So what are you saying?” he asks, just to be sure.
And Max can’t blame him for needing that, so she reaches for his other hand too, and doesn’t let her voice or gaze waver; she wants him to see and hear her clearly.
“I’m saying that you’re my best friend, Lucas, the best friend I’ve ever had,” Max explains, not a trace of her former nervousness to be found. “But that’s not enough anymore. I want you to be my best friend and my boyfriend. Again.”
Lucas’ grin finally wins the fight. “Really?”
“Yeah,” she confirms, her own mouth trying to decide which way to turn. “Is that so hard to believe?”
“No,” he laughs, turning his hands around so that he’s holding hers now, too. “I just, I wanted to make sure. You kinda have a habit of changing your mind a lot.”
Max’s instincts want to deny it - or maybe that’s her pride - but instead, she goes for reassurance.
“Well, I won’t this time,” she promises, pulling him closer. “I, I know what I want. I’ve always known, but I’m ready for it now. I’m ready for us. I want to try again.” She falters, just for a moment. “I mean, if you want it, too.”
“Of course I do,” Lucas soothes her, tugging her in and then letting her hands go so that they can both wrap their arms around each other. “I’ve wanted you back since the moment you dumped me six years ago, right over there.” He nods in the direction she looked earlier, but her eyes stay on his face until he looks back at her again. “I love you, too. I was just waiting for you.”
“Like any good stalker would,” Max can’t help but tease, her grin mirroring his. “Well, what are you waiting for no-”
Lucas kisses her before she can get the rest of her taunt out, soft and slow, but hard enough that Max feels it all over.
Or maybe that’s just his hands, trailing up her spine until he can cup her cheeks as he pulls back just enough to smile down at her before kissing her again.
“Barf!” Erica’s exaggerated, disgruntled voice interrupts them, ruining the moment or making it perfect. Because when they reluctantly pull apart to look over at her, Max half expects to see the twelve year old she used to know and banter with, instead of the teenage girl she’s grown into. “I see y'all have finally dropped that 'just friends' bullshit that wasn't fooling anybody.”
They both roll their eyes in unison, but neither of them can deny the truth of her words.
Because they are friends - best friends - before they’re anything else, but Lucas and Max could never be just anything. At least not to each other.
“Movies tonight?” Lucas asks once Erica has slipped into the car, and Max answers him with a kiss.
1992.
Dating a guy as a junior in college is a lot different than dating him in middle school, or at least should be.
And maybe it would be, if Max hadn’t always secretly kind of thought of Lucas as her boyfriend, even in those months when someone else was and Lucas was barely even her friend.
They still talk through every movie they watch and battle each other at the arcade and argue over which of their favorite superheroes would win in a fight; they still bicker and tease each other, Max still cheers him on at his games and Lucas still watches her destroy half the guys at the skate park.
It’s the same as it always was, but it’s better, too. He’s still Lucas and she’s still Max, and they still just work together, in every way that they are.
The only difference is that now, when everyone assumes they’re dating, they’re right.