Chapter Text
Max was lost.
She was settled against her comforter, the messy strew of clothes drawing around her room being the least of her worries. She furrowed her brows in hopes to forget.
Every time she closed her eyes, she was going back to the resounding neon lights, sparkling fireworks under the midnight sky, his face of anguish and defiance.
Whispers of condolences, Neil leaving, her mom drinking. Smiles of sympathy and broken promises.
Mike, Dustin, El.
Lucas.
She unconsciously rubbed her hands against her oversized chambray shirt, the only one her dad had let her take with her home. It was around three or four years ago, but she remembers how he had taken her to the beach like it was yesterday.
The grains of sand were crumbling, fleeting through Max’s fingers as the waves of the ocean got louder and louder. All she could see was blue and hear his laughter, and eventually, there was nothing there for Max at all. No waves, no dad, no laughter. Just her and the yellow passing of sand which was as insignificant as her.
The sun was snickering at her. Slices of sunlight gleamed across her back, glistening with the crystallized sand. Her beige sun hat and pale skin covered with sticky sunscreen protected her from the hours spent below the rays of light. Freckles and ice cream and bottles of beer. The only details she could properly tell apart from the shadows.
Her dad sighed when he heard the weather report on the radio earlier that day. He ran a hand through his hair which was still blonde, still light. He mumbled a low “hundred degrees and counting” before he picked her up and held her in the air. She laughed like a fleeting dream.
A low hum of music was softly buzzing through the humid apartment. It was a shitty apartment, out in the lowly parts of L.A. with what her dad called a “bitchy landlord.” Though he never said it in front of Max. He only showed her bright smiles and passing laughter.
Maybe that’s why Max loved him so much. Unlike Neil, he was never mad.
The apartment didn’t have proper plumbing and the couch was practically falling apart. The complex smelt like dirt and sweat. Sometimes, a biker gang would pull through, the engines roaring loudly and bristling through the half-open kitchen window. Dad would pull the window fully open, yelling through to them while she could hear muffled laughter and whistling in the background.
Her favorite song that summer was ‘No Love at All’ by Frankie Valli. She couldn’t properly grasp the lyrics, but it made her dad’s chest reverberate with laughter and Max grin so wide she couldn’t feel her cheeks.
After that last day, he let her do something he’d never let her do previously. Max didn’t know it was the last day, but she remembers his somber smile. Sometimes she forgets his face, but the shirt hanging neatly in her closet makes sure she doesn’t forget him. His tall figure, his calloused hands, and the stubble on his chin.
His eyes remain the same shade of cerulean as hers.
He’d let her keep the shirt on as she hugged him tightly, not knowing of the goodbyes he was presenting her with. Promises of tomorrow drifted between them as she waved loud and proud from the slightly parted train window. He just kept his hands tucked into his jean pockets, having a small quirk of his lips.
Max never saw him again after that day.
They moved shortly after that to Indiana. Billy was getting angrier as Neil grew tenser, and her mom was the ever-growing pacifist. The ocean waves were replaced by the fleeting breeze, the sun replaced by the light gray clouds. It didn’t matter to Max, she just wanted to go home.
She couldn’t tell where home was anymore.
She thought that she would never get to fit in. Then, some stupid boys wouldn’t leave her alone, and she went trick and treating, and she went to the Snow Ball.
Then she kissed him.
It was almost euphoric standing under the bright disco lights, the crawling crowd forgotten. His lips were soft and the kiss was firm yet brief. She remembers his struck face as if it was yesterday, his lingering smile still present on his face.
She closed her eyes as she brought him close by the neck, and he wrapped his arms around her hips. Simple, ignorant innocence brimming in their hearts, their stomachs filled with anticipation and gratifying comfort.
Max doesn’t remember ever being this content, despite her time with her dad. Her days with her dad are stained with her anger for his absence. This memory remains untouched, something she would treasure forever.
Because for whatever cruel reasoning Billy could come up with for Lucas’ kindness, he always proved him wrong. He was always there as a friend first.
He always smiled with honesty.
Then came summer, and her life suddenly crumbled in front of her eyes. She could feel the running outrage she had for Billy teeming out of her blood as she saw his decaying body in front of her. His sorry made her even madder, but it also made her go into this spiraling depression.
Because how dare she feel relieved about her dead step-brother.
None of the breakups mattered, nor Mike’s chastising words, nor El’s brief smiles between curtains of light.
Those curtains turned dark like a play, and so did Max’s heart.
The numbness turned to anger, bubbling up until she couldn’t take it anymore. She screamed, and she yelled, and she broke things, but her heart would never mend.
Max was too broken; beyond reparation; beyond use.
That didn’t stop Lucas from trying to fix her good again.
Like an anchor, he never left her side, even when she asked him to. Even when she howled at him to go away. Her heart burned for his presence and absence alike. Eventually, it all got too much.
Their breakup didn’t sting as much as the cracks of sorrow on his face.
It was the conclusion of an ever-lasting torturous chapter that just wouldn’t end. When the new chapter began, it was somehow even worse.
Because she was still grieving. She was still mad, and she was still guilty of the heinous crime of feeling.
The only difference this time was that she was alone.
——
Lucas still waved to her in the halls anyway.
His face on the bench, his face on the court, his face in the halls.
His sharp haircut, his bushy eyebrows, his expanding laughter.
His searching eyes.
Everything that was Lucas was etched so deep into her that it might as well have been a part of Max. She still didn’t reciprocate his small talk.
Despite always looking, she never waved back.
She had been forced into Ms. Kelly’s office against her own will. The cushy chair dug deep into her shoulder blades, and the never-ending list of certifications threw up in Max’s face.
The mahogany desk and pitying glances made her stomach queasy.
Her imagination never sparked up the cheer captain walking out of that same office, or her sobs of anguish against the faded bathroom stalls.
Max tried to help, but she hardly tried enough.
She had other troubles.
Lucas was getting worn from seeking her out. His spilling frustrations confirmed both her wishes and nightmares alike.
His comments about her ghostly departure stung, but not as much as it stung to hand back the blue invite.
She had closed every door and closed one after herself for extra measure. His pained expression from their sixth breakup flashed against her eyelids.
Lucas would be foolish to follow.
She still left the radio on that afternoon. It hummed just like those summer days, and she would never admit it loudly, but she felt surging pride at the calling of his name. She could imagine his expression, the roaring crowd, and the reflective gym lights.
She almost wished she went. She wouldn’t have minded the smell of sweat.
She wouldn’t have minded his smile.
—-
Max had seen the strange before.
She knew Eddie sold drugs. She didn’t care. Eddie was mostly left to his own devices, and they didn’t converse unless she needed some coffee or sugar.
The only time she spotted him was during the rare times she would visit the lunch hall, his presence loud and booming.
Mike and Dustin would grin wide, following his shadow and the ghost of his voice like lost puppies in the wind. Max couldn’t help but laugh when they tried to invite her in.
Even though she had seen the strange, she never would have thought to see Chrissy go into Eddie’s trailer. The second strike in a spiraling week.
She still didn’t question it more than she should have.
Eddie’s trailer was covered with police tape the morning after.
Max didn’t question it when she should have, and now the increasingly louder chimes ticked through her head and ate away at her brain. Eyes of sympathy and worry followed her through the school halls after dark, but it didn’t matter.
Maybe she would end up just like Chrissy. What power did they have to stop it?
They weren’t weak, they were just kids. Steve hadn’t even turned twenty.
They still said that they would find a way.
——
The breeze didn’t bother her, nor did the glinting sun. Max was reeling over the ticking doomsday clock looming over her head, counting down the minutes to her death. She still took the time to write the letters, her chicken scratch writing and silent tears imprinting on the notebook paper.
Mike wouldn’t mind a missing few sheets.
All her sins, her reminiscence of memories, her confessions of love. Tucked into neat little letters for them to pick up, throw away or burn after her passing. She would pass as a memorable dream.
They would grieve, but they would have bigger battles ahead.
She still couldn’t look Lucas in the eye.
She would rot to the coarse dirt under the sun, her only proof of existence being a shiny headstone with her name. She still felt the guilt coursing through her veins. She still felt the angry ghosts at the bane of her spine.
The tears in her eyes would remind her of who she was crying for, and then she would spiral back to the beginning. No one deserved a death as cruel as his, but he was still subjected to it so maybe there was some truth, some justice to his passing.
Maybe he deserved it.
Her tears grew bigger.
And then she was not.
Suddenly, she was the glinting headstone and Billy was in her place. He was seeking justice from her. He knew. He knew of her guilt and her anger, and her wishes of resolution under her duvet during nighttime.
He would hear when no one else could.
She was there, and then she was not.
She wasn’t ready to leave yet.
She ran like her life depended on it. The blood splattered beneath her feet.
Lucas took her in.
He hugged her like he did that night. Fiercer, more desperate. She couldn’t tell his ragged breaths from her own.
She clung to him like she had never done before, her only lifeline threatening to spill. She found it symbolically disgusting to almost die on Billy’s grave.
Lucas held onto her with as much desperation as she showed holding onto him.
It was over for a small moment, and Max could only appreciate the breathing as proof of life.
Whispers of existence and his maroon jacket. His rapid breathing mixed in with hers.
She almost found herself back in that night.
—-
Max knew from when she was a kid that she was never favored by the Gods.
She never really cared for religion, but she knew. If there ever was an otherworldly figure, that figure never liked Max.
Her hair was fiery red, her eyes as blue as the sky and the ocean waves. Her bones were thin and rigid, her skin as pale as the clouds above. The same skin was always littered with purple marks as proof of her skating.
She only ever made friends with boys because no girl would associate with her. She fucked up those friendships long before she left for Indiana.
Her mom and dad didn’t love each other, and Neil was never good enough to be considered a dad. Billy was everything but a brother.
She moved, she made friends, she touched on the subject of love. None of that could ever prepare her for what was about to come.
She was cursed for death. A painful end like the one of Billy. None of dad’s words would matter, nor would mom’s hugs.
If there ever was a God, he would be laughing in Max’s face.
If there ever was a God, he would have to beg her for forgiveness.
If there ever was a God, he was a coward.
Max was braver than God.
Because she was facing death. Despite everything, she was facing death with all she had. Despite Lucas’ protests, death was going to fear her.
Moving through the rooms of the Creel house felt like being in one of those horror movies she would relentlessly watch.
The only difference was that instead of being haunted by Leatherface, she was being haunted by a veiny creature that was once a man.
People knew of Leatherface. No one knew of Henry Creel.
It would have been dark walking into death like this if it wasn’t for Lucas.
Lucas and his smile. Lucas and his comfort. Lucas on the piano trying to make Max light up, setting up a trap so great she could not run away.
So she falls for it.
She laughs and laughs, and Lucas smiles.
She thinks her heart melts.
If she ever makes it out alive, if she was ever left breathing, she was gonna profess her love.
She thinks they will be okay one day.
They will make it.
——
It wasn’t her intention to make Lucas jealous, but feeling his stare prick on her neck is a nice touch.
Max doesn’t care for Steve’s chest hair, but all boys this age seem to think that looking induces attraction.
She would rather throw up before seeing Steve in any romantic light.
She still keeps an eye on his figure anyway.
She worries for him and his nonchalant behavior about his self-sacrificial tendencies. She tries to talk with him about it, but he brushes her off.
“I’m fine, Red. Seriously, it’s all good.”
Before she gets to worry about him anymore, the police arrive with their searching voices and blinding lights.
Max only thinks of Lucas’ lips for a moment as a possible escape before she dismisses it. Not yet , she thinks.
They bear looks of bewilderment as she raises her hands and reveals their location. Better get caught by their own hand rather than theirs.
She’s crude towards the officer. Accusatory in the way teenagers usually are. She lets herself feed into the rumors like it’s as natural as the yellow sun.
They escape into the night at the revelation of Steve’s capture, bikes in tow.
She thinks that the scariest is behind them.
Not as much as it scares her to see Nancy’s blacked-out face.
Eddie’s place is trashed, and her mom is gone by the time they all make it to her living room.
Max offers herself up between the cushions like it’s a game of poker.
She has never before seen Lucas this delusionally irrational.
It breaks her heart all over again.
There is no other way. They’ve run out of time and resources. This is their one shot in the dark, their leap of faith.
Max doesn’t think she will make it.
She still tells Lucas that she will.
She never thought she would be conjuring up a happy memory like in those fantasy stories her dad read to her as a kid. There was only ever one clear-cut answer to her favorite memory.
Maybe it would have been different when she was eight and still listening to Frankie Valli. Max guesses that it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.
Lucas is hopeful and uncertain when asking about it.
Just like when asking her to go trick and treating.
Just like when asking her to dance.
She grins like those summer days and gives him a wistful answer, but they both know that it’s true.
His smile sends butterflies in her stomach, and it’s like they’re kids all over again.
They shake hands, signing over her life to his hands.
She doesn’t doubt for a second that he will bring her back.
——
Max hasn’t felt this lightheadedly happy in weeks.
Lucas is sitting there, blue light illuminating his eyes and his perfect skin. He’s fumbling with his notebook nervously and Max can almost feel her heart pumping out of her chest.
It’s banging so hard against her ribcage that it feels like it’s about to rip open her skin and jump into his arms.
She feels her burdens slowly ease out of her. She tells Lucas how she appreciates his presence.
Lucas looks so happy that it makes Max want to cry.
He has been a beacon of light in a dark hallway. A living reminder of her worth. That she’s loved.
So this time, she doesn’t challenge it.
She lets herself smile, and she lets herself imagine a future where they can watch a movie on Friday. She draws that future, and his radiating happiness is worth every penny.
She lets herself completely forget what’s ahead.
And she falls in love all over again.
——
Max has never been this ready to live.
With Lucas’ sharp words lodged into her back like arrows in the wind, she runs. She runs until there is nowhere else to go, and then she disappears.
Back to the disco lights, the horde of students, the awkward shuffling of feet.
Lucas asking her to dance, Lucas holding her by the waist, Lucas pulling her in.
Max kissing Lucas.
Lucas, Lucas, Lucas.
She finds herself back in that night.
Incredibly, so does El.
She doesn’t believe in the reality of it. El proves her wrong all over again.
El that originally refused to give Max a chance was now here to support her. Max wants to cry, but they have no time to reconnect. She wishes she had gotten to meet El once more before this entire mess.
She would see herself with El in the girls walking the hallways at school. In the models of her mom’s cosmopolitan. In the dresses at the store, with the eggos in the fridge, and with the bottles of alcohol that belonged to her mom.
All they’ve gotten to do is talk over the phone. She would give everything to see her in person again.
She knew El was struggling with making friends just as much as she was struggling to connect with her own. She was so strong and had been through so much, yet she was still here to give Max a hand.
She promises herself that she was gonna give El a proper hug the next time she saw her. If not in Hawkins then she would book a flight to California. She would see the glinting beach once more.
It’s so hard believing that she has people protecting her, standing behind her.
It’s so hard seeing them fall.
Just as quick as El had taken hold, the world beneath Max’s feet crumbles again.
There is nothing El can do.
Maybe if Max had more time, she would start blaming people. She would blame dad for letting her go, blame mom for never trying, blame Neil for being a dick, blame Billy for being Billy.
Maybe she would even blame El.
Maybe she would blame Lucas.
Time slipped through her fingers like the hourglass she was.
It was too late to realize that some stupid pieces of paper could never convey what she wanted to say. That she would never get to say enough.
She wanted so desperately to stay.
Even when the balloons popped, and her joyous memory became shards of glass.
She still wanted to stay.
She wanted to live.
Kate Bush never came.
Max cried as she fell.
Lucas still took her in.
It didn’t matter.
Max thought that the worst ever possibility was a slow, painful and ever-consuming death. She never considered the possibility of a death where she lacked the ability to feel anything.
Fear was in every bone of her body that she had yet to feel, in her heart, in the palms of her hands. She couldn’t differentiate Lucas’ wails of anguish from her own.
Everything was black, cold, and… nothing.
It was absolutely nothing.
The past few months dimmed into the background like static, like the radio that would never quiet. It all stilled for a moment.
Max didn’t feel any more after that.
It was the end of a chapter.
And the end of her book.