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Time seemed to stop completely as Max took his helmet off, his heart sinking in his chest as the buzzer blared around the stadium, Chemists from Clivesdale surrounding their players with cheers and chants on Clivesdale’s victory. Jason patted Max on the back, it felt like knives shoving his way into his body, cutting deep until they reached his bones, Max shivering in the cold. The world seemed to end, no reason to go on. They had lost, and to Clivesdale of all people!
Richie had waited before entering the locker rooms, counting the boys' that had left. 1, 6, 8… He made sure he kept track of everyone, before there should only be one left. Luckily for him, it was the one he needed to speak to.
The locker rooms, like usual, smelled like shit. Sweat from the game lingered along with steam from the showers that had almost run out of hot water by now. Richie turned the corner, one boy sitting on the bench, his helmet still in hand, “The referee made one bad call there at the end, didn’t he?” Richie asked, leaning up against the wall.
Max looked up at him and glared, “You really had to point it out?”
Richie nodded, “I knew if I came in here and said ‘you did really good’ you’d call me a liar and maybe not punch me but just shove me around a bit.”
Max let out a small laugh that was quickly drowned out by the sound of him loudly groaning in defeat, placing his helmet on the bench and walking over to Richie, “Lost to freaking Clivesdale…” he said before putting his head on Richie’s shoulder, unintentionally pinning him against the wall.
“We’ll get ‘em next year,” Richie slowly placed a hand on Max’s back, who he felt shake at the feeling.
“There’s no next year for me,” Max spoke into Richie’s shoulder.
“What do you mean?” Richie curiously asked.
“We’re seniors, dipshit. This was our last chance,” Max looked up at Richie, who closed his eyes and nodded.
Richie sighed, knowing how much this game meant to Max, “We can still beat Sycamore in a few weeks, y’know?”
“Fucking Timberwolves,” Max made a fist, something Richie quickly noticed, “I don’t care about beating them, Clivesdale’s our enemy! It- it’s Clivesdale! We’re just gonna let them beat us like that?”
Richie wrapped his arms around Max, “That’s part of the game, Max.”
Max huffed, before putting his arms around Richie as well, “I’ve missed you.”
Richie grinned, “Missed you too. You think we could go out more now?”
Max looked up at him and grinned, “Of course! I’ve got nothing else to worry about now.”
“Well,” Richie shrugged, “That algebra grade needs some work but who’d be a better tutor then me?”
“Exactly,” Max smiled, putting his head back on Richie’s shoulder, placing his hands on Richie’s waist. Seeing Max’s sudden happiness made Richie feel at ease, the world around him becoming a little brighter, “I’ve missed you.”
“Missed you too,” Richie closed his eyes and smiled, putting a hand on Max’s neck and another on his wrist, “You doing anything tonight? After this?”
Max shook his head, “Kyle wanted to go to Denny’s but the food there is ass so I was planning on just going home.”
“We could go back to my place if your dad is gonna be there,” Richie suggested, Max agreeing nearly instantly.
“Will Paul be there?” Max asked.
“Most likely.”
Max grinned, “I love Paul.”
“He tolerates you too.”
Max looked down at Richie and smiled, placing a hand on his chin, “I love you, Richie.”
Richie grinned, “I tolerate you too.”
Max reached down to kiss Richie’s face, who closed shut his eyes tightly in relief. It felt like it had been an eternity since he and Max were alone, since they could be the people they wished to be around each other, people they couldn’t be around anyone else. “We should go to Homecoming together,” Max said, all of a sudden.
“That’s a little on the nose, don’t you think?” Richie couldn’t help but laugh.
“I practically own this school, if anyone messes with us they’ll be moving to Clivesdale before they lay a hand on you,” Max pointed out, taking Richie’s hand.
Max’s hands were large, sweaty, and absolutely delightful to hold. And Richie had missed them more than anything, “I’d love to go to Homecoming with you, Max.”
They smiled, Max putting his lips to Richie’s as he slowly moved his hand down to his neck. Richie had missed the pounding in his chest he got when he and Max were alone, he missed the sweetness of his lips and the touch of his skin against his own. It all felt so perfect, delicate, like Max was glass already half cracked and Richie was the only one who didn’t shatter him into millions of smaller, sharper pieces.
Max took Richie’s hand and they sat down on the bench next to the lockers, Max throwing his helmet across the room to make room for Richie, who rested his head against the metal locker doors as Max kneeled down, squeezing his hand, “You’re my favorite person, Richie. And I want to spend every ounce of my being to make you happy.”
“When did you become a poet?” Richie laughed at Max’s corniness.
“When I did it jokingly and you got so flustered and I thought it was the cutest shit I’ve ever seen,” Max grinned, squeezing the small hand he was holding, “And it’s only gotten cuter with time.”
Richie closed his eyes and tried to keep his smile in check, although was sure he was blushing like crazy, “Damn you.”
Max kissed the top of his hand and smirked, putting Richie’s hand to his cheek and slowly moving his fingers along his skin, “I’ve missed you.”
“Y-you’re acting like I haven’t been available,” Richie chuckled, before realizing his nervous stuttering had returned to haunt him.
“I know,” Max whispered, the sound so pleasant Richie tapped his feet with joy, “But it’s made being with you again all the sweeter.”
Richie put his other hand up to his mouth, lightly biting on the skin of his finger.
“Why so quiet? Cat got your tongue?” Max chuckled to himself, his smile so wide Richie needed to look away.
“Stop being so- you know!- You’re gonna kill me!” Richie mumbled, unable to form words anymore.
Max laughed, and sat next to Richie, their shoulders squished against each other, “Killing you would be one hell of a mistake, now wouldn’t it?” He delicately touched Richie’s cheek, moving it closer to his face.
Richie bit his bottom lip before giving in and kissing Max again, desiring the sweetness of his lips once more, like a drug he was addicted to and couldn’t quite reach until now. Max put his hand on the back of Richie’s head, messing with his hair as Richie let go. Max laughed to himself, “Your hair is a mess because of that damn bird costume,” he moved his fingers through Richie’s messy hair, trying his best to fix it in some way.
Richie grinned, taking Max’s hand, “Thanks.” They stayed quiet for a time, sharing the warmth of their bodies as their skin touched.
“Are you less sad about losing to Clivesdale now?” Richie asked.
“Yeah,” Max looked at him, “Probably wouldn’t have gotten the chance to do this if we did win,” he thought for a moment, “Man fuck Clivesdale though!”
“Fuck ‘em! Fucking Chemists!”
The two of them laughed and sat quietly, the others' company being comforting after the longest game of their lives. Maybe losing to Clivesdale wasn’t so bad, this was certainly a lot better then a shitty after party after all.