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Max never felt safe on a full moon. No matter how many times Laura assures him the curse is broken; no matter how many full moons pass where he’s fine. And tonight is no exception.
Admittedly, he hasn't changed his clothes in two days. The constant reminder of the full moon in the back of his mind, he hasn’t done much of anything but lie in bed and cry. He feels as though if he even moves the wrong way, says the wrong words, does anything he will burst. Everything Laura fought for will be for nothing and he truly is a monster at heart.
Laura sits next to him in bed, rubbing his back comfortingly as the silence fills the air. Max has some Youtube video playing on his television, something about some video game. Lately he’s been watching the same few videos about the same few video games to get him through the days. He’s not really living — he’s not even functioning.
“Hey,” Laura mutters quietly, looking out the window for a moment to notice the sun going down, “hey Max.”
Max only makes a small noise, moving his chin to rest on Laura’s shoulder.
“Want me to wash your hair?”
Max nods, “yeah, that’d be nice.”
His voice is weak and cracking, no doubt from not talking much these past few days. Laura feels lucky that she finally got him to talk, though, and her shy smile proves it.
“C’mon, love,” she says, standing up slowly so as to not accidentally hit Max’s chin.
Max stands up, pushing the bed covers off of him as he does so. He follows her to the bathroom, his hand desperately searching for hers before gripping it tight, no intentions of letting it go.
Max sits in front of the tub, head leaned back so the water falls into the tub itself.
“Do you feel comfortable taking your shirt off?”
“No,” he admits softly, and Laura nods.
“That’s okay. I can put a towel around your shoulders.”
Max smiles gratefully.
Laura indeed goes to grab a small towel, wrapping it around Max’s shoulders.
She unhooks the shower head, ruffling Max’s hair before turning the water on, testing it on her hand to make sure it's neither too hot nor cold. When it’s at a suitable temperature, she aims it towards Max’s hair, using her hand to slick it back with the water.
After a bit of the water, she sets it in the tub as it continues to run. She grabs a bottle of shampoo — some purple bottle with fruits printed on it — and squirts a little in her hand, lathering Max’s hair in the product.
Max sighs happily. Laura continues to do so, massaging his scalp as she continues.
“Thank you, Laur,” he mumbles, opening his eyes to look at her. She’s wearing a content smile, clearly focused.
“Of course, Max.”
She rinses his hair, feeling how soft it is under her touch.
Laura helps Max dry his hair with the towel, giggling at how shaggy it is when it’s unbrushed.
“You look so goofy,” she tells him.
He keeps the towel around his neck, hoping to not get his shirt wet so he won’t have to change it. Changing it feels like something bad will happen.
But Laura’s there to make sure it won’t.
When they reach the bed again, Max sits up while Laura lies her head on his lap.
“Hey,” she says, her gaze shifting from the video the two are watching up to Max, “I love you.”
“I love you too,” he says, twirling her hair between his fingers. Well, the few strands that aren’t in her ponytail.
They stay like this for the night. No werewolves. Just them.