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Max Jägerman is five years old when he meets Ruth Evans for the first time. She has wild, tangled, curly hair and grins at him with a gap in her teeth like him. Her lower jaw sort of juts forward but she grins through the kids who didn't know better's teasing.
Ruth has a spattering of dark spots all over her face and she smiles at him when he asks what it is.
"They're freckles! Look, I've got them on my arms, too!" She rolls up her sleeves and shows her lower arms which have the same uneven spots. Max thinks they're really pretty. Like reverse stars. "My momma tells me that they're also called sun kisses." She beams almost as brightly as the sun when she says this, like she's prideful of her differences.
Max nods, silently, and wishes he had freckles to be proud of.
Ruth Evans becomes his first real friend. She sits with him at lunch and shares her chips and reads the picture books with him while they eat. Together, they learn the colors of the rainbow and play dress up. Max always insists that he should play the hero to save the princess because that’s what heroes do. Ruth hates the princess dress but she still wears it because there's not any others to wear for this game they're playing.
When they play on the equipment, Max slips and Ruth gives him a pink Band-Aid to put on his knee. Max learns what it's like to feel fear that afternoon, long after leaving kindergarten. But she doesn't ask any questions when he asks for a blue one to put on his other knee. She just hands it to him wordlessly looking like she understands.
Max doesn't think she does.
---
Max Jägerman is seven years old when he learns that his best friend Ruth Evans does understand. She tells him just as much when she finds him crying behind one of the trees in the playground and sits beside him, handing him a jelly filled sandwich. She's a foster kid and has experienced her fair share of bad parents. Her current moms - who've had her for almost three years now - are the nicest ones she's ever had.
Max has met Ruth's moms. They're sweet and the house smelt of cinnamon buns and gave warm hugs. He finds it in himself to hope that Ruth gets adopted by the Flemings. They're good people. It doesn't feel good to acknowledge that she shouldn't know what it's like to have people like his dad as parents, though.
The jelly sandwich leaves a sugary coat on his tongue and washes away the bitterness he feels.
Max is the fastest kid in class; raised to run away from things that scare or hurt him, he runs like the wind and doesn't stop when he trips or stumbles. He grows up faster than he runs, learns how to cross roads by himself, and avoid strangers who look dangerous, and how to make himself meals that won't be called stolen. Though he does his fair share of that too, a stray dollar or two always found on tabletops where anyone could have taken it, really.
Ruth tells him one day that she thinks one of the girls in their grade is pretty. That the pretty girl with the green hoodie and brown-blonde hair sometimes lets her play with her barbie dolls. She tells him that sometimes she wants to hug the girl in the green hoodie. And then, hushed into his ear, she adds "like how my moms hug each other."
Max doesn't really understand why she needs to keep it a secret. Her moms are nice. He doesn't understand until one of the bigger boys notices her whispering and calls it out, teasing her about how she wants to kiss other girls. She didn't say that, though, Max almost says before he looks to her and notices her looking away with this look on her face. It's twisted in sadness, her freckles folding and curling over the miserable wrinkles her scrunched up nose creates. He learns that day that wanting to hug people the same as you is wrong, and wanting to kiss them is worse.
The fear twists in his gut when he tells Ruth later, by the tree, that he sometimes wants to hug the boys too. She doesn't react like the boy in class, but she smiles and wraps her arm around his shoulders and gives him her juice box.
"Well aren't we just the best people in this class?" She asks him. He smiles and nods at her when he finally gets the straw in the foil top.
Later that day, Ruth wants to practice holding hands with him. He agrees, but it's weird. Their hands are clammy and too different. Even though he's bony, Max's hand is longer around her shorter and rounder hand and it feels weird to hold. They both know it's weird and when she lets go she laughs like a hyena, doubling over. Max can't help but laugh along with her.
"That's so weird!" She manages to get out of her mouth. Max nods in agreement. "Let's like. Never do that again."
"Please." He smiles.
He's glad to have Ruth as a best friend.
---
Max is ten years old when he tells Ruth Fleming that he likes the boy with the Spider-Man backpack. He's got long hair down past his shoulders but is so obviously a boy that it confuses him when Ruth tries to correct him into saying that he's a girl.
"No. He likes Spider-Man. He's a boy." He frowns over his lightly salted chips.
Ruth shakes her head. "That means nothing. I like Spider-Man. Does that mean I'm a boy?" Max rolls his eyes.
"Maybe." He shrugs, chewing loudly on a large chip. Ruth grimaces at his crudeness.
"I'm telling you, Max. That's a girl." She shakes her head.
"Well then what's 'her' name?" Max gives her a pointed look. Ruth blanks for a few seconds.
"I don't know."
"Then I guess there's nothing to stop him from being a boy, then." Max smiles in triumph and ducks before Ruth can give him a playful slap upside the head. He returns it though, landing on her cheek lightly. She gasps in offence but they're scolded by their teacher before their play fight can get any worse, erupting into smothered giggles.
Later, when they're at Ruth's house, she tells him that the kid with the Spider-Man backpack is a boy, and that his name is Richie. Somehow giving him a name makes Max feel nervous about having admitted that he was pretty. Like before it was like saying that a character in a movie was pretty, but this made it real. It was almost terrifying. If Max's dad heard about this, about him finding a boy pretty, well… he didn't really want to think about it.
After dinner, they head up to Ruth's room and go to mess around on google. In Ruth's search history, a question screamed loudly at Max's subconscious. 'What does it mean if I like girls and boys?' Ruth stilled when she realized what was on display, looking at him out of the corner of her eye, watching his expression have the slightest of changes. It settled on an almost fearful curiosity. She realized, looking at him, that he was struggling with the same question. Wordlessly, she clicked on the search.
Max felt the fear rush through him as the search loaded. He read the result, almost ready to defend himself somehow.
"Bisexual: Refers to an individual who has the capacity for attraction—sexually, romantically, emotionally, or otherwise—to people with the same, and to people with a different, gender and/or gender identity as themselves."
Something rushed through Max's brain, almost akin to the feeling he felt when his dad wasn't home. Ruth stayed quiet but leaned against his side, head resting on his shoulder and arms wrapping around his own. He rests his cheek against the top of her head and swallows around the new realization.
"Me too." Ruth whispers. Max hums in acknowledgement, wrapping his other arm around her.
Later, when the moment has passed and they untangled from one another, Ruth brings up google again to do another search, claiming to have found something really funny.
That evening, Max discovers what the adult human body looks like.
---
Max Jägerman is twelve years old when the black eye and bruised wrist don’t bring a word to Ruth's mind.
Anger swirls around in his gut like a darkness waiting to swallow him whole as he revels in the bitterness. He's angry at his dad, angry at himself. He's angry at Ruth for not saying anything about it. Not to him, not to anyone. He's angry at himself for feeling angry at her. He's so angry at the world for letting this happen. How could he let this happen? He didn't mean to upset his dad. He just wanted to have a drink. He didn't mean to knock the beer when he grabbed the milk - one day out of date, it would have been fine to drink - nothing had even shattered or broken, just rattled.
That hadn't stopped it from happening.
Max sniffed and rubbed his nose with the back of his hand.
"Max-" Ruth started. Fuck this.
His hand slammed against the table, jogging the juice bottle and causing his wrist to burn. He swallowed the wince as he stood up and left without saying anything to Ruth. She could have her happy life with her happy parents. He'd weather his storms by himself. It was about time he stopped having a girl as a purely platonic friend anyway. He was starting to reach the age where his dad was asking about him having a girlfriend or if Ruth was more than a friend. He couldn't bear the disappointed look at his negative answers anymore.
That day, Max learns that he's incredibly easy to leave alone, even if he finds it hard to walk away.
Ruth doesn't really try to talk to him after that, but he knows it's her when she looks at him. He's been her friend for longer than half their lives by now, he knows what her look feels like. She never talks but she's always watching him.
Max doesn't see her smile properly again until a few weeks later where she's sat with Richie and a kid called Peter. He gets angry again when he sees it. Angry at Ruth for moving on so fast. Angry at Richie for still looking pretty with short hair. Angry at Peter because somehow he fits where Max couldn't if he tried.
---
Max Jägerman is fourteen years old when he realizes how alone he is. Freshman year comes and the loneliness prickles at his skin like needles as the anger festers and grows like black mold in the darkest corners of his brain. He's left alone in a world that has only served to hurt him and he feels angry at himself for still being in it. He can make it better, he's sure. He's just not strong enough of a person to do it.
So Max forms himself a new shape to become and fill. It's an odd shape, bigger than his bones and looks an awful lot like his dad in his senior year, but it makes his dad happy so it must be the right choice. Max learns to hide away the softer parts of himself, like how he's scared of the dark and the dead, and grows into the form he needs to survive.
He's fourteen when he pushes his first nerd. She looked at him funny and his anger had skyrocketed, filling his chest with this burning hatred. She had hit against the locker with a harsh clang and the high he got from being the cause for that fear in her eyes was stronger than any other emotion he'd felt before.
So he made a habit of it.
---
Max Jägerman is sixteen years old when he finally replaces where Ruth used to be in his life. It takes two people - Jason Jepson and Kyle Clauger - but it fits. Kyle's a laddish type, talking at near lightning pace about the girls in their year and how hot they are with their long hair and doe eyes. He mentions Stephanie Lauter by name and Max recognizes her as the girl that Ruth had a crush on in the Second Grade. He doesn't mention this, just drinks his water wordlessly. Kyle might be stupid, but everyone knows that Stephanie doesn't go out with anyone who doesn't ask her, and Kyle wouldn't ask. Max has already scared that out of him. He's yet to scare the girl talk away, though.
But Kyle's incessant need to talk about the pretty girls gives Max enough of an excuse to not talk about how he still has a crush on Richie. This year, he has blue in his fringe and it reminds Max of how the sky darkens just before nighttime.
Jason has never spoken about girls for the entire time Max has known him. For a brief period of time, he thought the guy was just gay. But then he'd responded to Kyle questioning the lack of crushes on a "lack of interest in things like that" and, when asked about boys, he'd said "doesn't change that I don't want that sort of thing."
Max realizes that there's a lot more to learn in the universe when it comes to attraction types. He also learns that maybe his friends would be chill if he came out to them, but fear still grips his sternum when he considers it so he just keeps pushing it off and away.
Later in the year, the trio sit on the football field and smoke cheap weed. It fuzzes his brain enough that his hands don’t even clench when Kyle mentions Brenda - a girl he's got a crush on - and mentions that he wants to date her. He just dismisses it with a half assed excuse of they can't afford distractions if they want to get to varsity in football.
"C'mon, dude. Have you never had a thing for anyone?" Kyle groans. "There's no way the both of you aren't into anyone." He gestures between Max and Jason. Jason just laughs and rolls his eyes. Max leans forward on his knees as his brain is provided with the image of Spider-Men backpacks and sky blue hair.
"Course I have." He mutters, taking another inhale. Guilt dances with the smoke in his lungs and he exhales irritation at having to answer these sorts of questions. "I went to kindergarten with Stephanie Lauter, grew up with a girl best friend. You think you can do that without catching feelings." The lie sits deep in his stomach. He never had feelings for Ruth and he's certain she had never felt anything like that for him, too. Of course he had a thing for the girls on the television and in movies. Unrestricted internet access granted him all sorts of time to know that for certain. It just also kept reaffirming his attraction to men, too. Which he was never going to admit, let alone when he was high.
Kyle laughs, "oh yeah! Who was your friend as a kid, anyway?" Max hums and looks away.
"Not really important. We stopped talking years ago." The grass of the football field is soft under his fingers and he tears at it, staining the underside of his fingernails green.
They leave him alone at an end of year house party.
Anger swirls with the beer in his gut and he wants to fight someone to get it out, preferably either Kyle or Jason or the both of them.
A girl with soft blonde hair attaches herself to his side at some point and the rest of the evening passes in a blur of fuzzy kisses and heat and sweat.
When he returns home, his dad almost looks proud when he tells him what he's done. He gives Max a pat on the back and hands him one of the beers from the fridge, condensation collecting in pearls along the can's surface. The crack as it opens under his finger fades into the mess his brain has become as he chugs the alcohol. His dad laughs heartily and slaps his back again. He's too fucked to think of the times those hands have hurt him further. He stumbles upstairs and into bed.
The hangover's a curse enough that he swears he'll never go to another house party again.
He ends up making it a habit.
---
Max Jägerman is eighteen years old when he talks to Ruth in a positive light again. The Waylon Hall is cold and it's prickling at his skin to make his hair rise in fear, but the nerds have put on a prank just for him and pride is swelling in his heart alongside the fear for how far Ruth - little Ruth with the sun's kisses on her skin - has come. He can't help but bow and point out how good her acting was.
Richie is stood beside Grace and it feels like cruel irony to have them in the same space. Grace is someone that he, sure, found aesthetically pleasing. She's cute in baby blues and butterfly hair clips, but she spouts such trifle that it sort of ruins any appeal he'd get from her. 'Forbidden Fruit' he'd told Kyle the other day. What a load of shit he'd learned to talk.
Somehow, despite the years, Richie still stuck as a firm crush in Max's head. He'd hoped that starting to bully him would get rid of the feeling, but it hadn't budged. It definitely removed any hope of happening though. No matter what happened here.
Max knew that, logically, he had no real reason beside appeasing his father that he should be bullying the nerds. Even now, the bullying had no real emphasis in any standing with his father. This could finally be the time to stop and turn it around for himself. He could finally make himself some friends, ones that probably wouldn’t leave him alone at house parties, or have sex with the next girl in the lineup.
Max realized, stood there in Waylon Hall, that he didn't really know what friendship was anymore. This group of three nerds, the most popular girl in school, and religious fanatic, had somehow banded together and pulled a prank that had almost scared him shitless.
He smiled at them, teeth on show. He'd never gotten braces to close the gap properly, but the growth of his adult teeth had made it smaller than before. Ruth almost lit up at the sight of it, a ghost of a smile on her face. He was halfway through remarking how they knew how to throw a party when the floor creaked beneath him.
It broke.
A second feels like a minute when there's nothing but space beneath you.
As he sinks, vertigo hits him as the world slows.
He closes his eyes on instinct.
The world jolts back into his senses as he registers that his wrist is being grabbed in an iron clad grip, body swaying in the empty space. His eyes open wide, looking up to see blue. It'd grown out since sophomore year, but Richie's hair still reminded him of the sky. He was almost halfway over the edge himself.
White noise rushed in Max's ears as he registered what had almost happened. He started to look down only to be interrupted halfway.
"No!" Richie's voice cut through the static. He shook his head. "Don't look down. I've got you." He strained his head to look back up. "Guys? A little help, please?"
Ruth was the first to spring to action, hands joining Richie's around his wrist for added support while Steph and Peter helped to pull him back up. Once they were all safe, Max took a moment to process what had happened, wide eyes staring at the wooden floors of the building they were sat in. Somewhere along the line, he had thanked them all, but his brain was filled with enough static to push the memory out to focus on the fact that he had almost died.
He came back to his body outside the Waylon Place as the rest of the group were saying goodbye to Grace, who looked like she was anxious to return home as swiftly as possible. Ruth was stood beside him, arms wrapped around herself. Richie was stood some odd feet away, shifting from foot to foot and rubbing his arms and hands nervously. Pete and Steph were the furthest, almost knocking into each other as they spoke in hushed voices.
Good for her, Max thinks. He almost regrets giving Spankoffski a black eye. Almost.
Ruth looks at him and notices he's back.
"Hey. Welcome back." She says.
"That's not ominous." Richie mutters, but avoids looking at them.
"Yeah yeah. Whatever." She rolls her eyes and sticks her tongue out at him before looking back to Max. "How're you feeling?"
Max doesn't know. He should be saying that he's fine. That he didn't need help from these freaks. But really, he just wants his friend back. He shrugs. "Dunno."
"You did just almost die, man." Ruth grins and nudges his side. She's shaking slightly, but it seems like she's recognized the shift he's taken. He's got so much to apologize for. To everyone, really, but specifically her.
He nods, almost numbly. "Yeah."
He looks at his hands and notices the bruise around his wrist, probably created in the scuffle to pull him back up from the broken flooring. Ruth looks at it too and they both recognize what the thought running through Max's brain is.
His dad.
"Are you-?"
"Yeah."
"Is it any bet-"
"No."
Ruth frowns. "Do you want to-"
"I can't. Not anymore." Well-deserved guilt rushes across Max's body like cold water.
The other three have taken note of their half-finished conversation. Stephanie is the first to speak up. "So… What's going on?"
Ruth and Max look at her and Max looks away, putting his hands in his pockets. Ruth looks at him for a second.
"Can I?" She asks. It's almost hopeful. She hasn't told them. The thought is almost comforting. But, if he really wants to change - which he does - this would be the perfect time to start.
"Go ahead." He's suddenly itching for a beer, regretting dropping them inside in his panic.
"Please don't say you're either secretly dating or are exes or are boning or something like that." Peter interjects. It actually startles a laugh from Max. God no. He could never imagine, nor does he want to imagine, doing any of those things with Ruth.
She slaps his arm. "Hey, I'm not that repulsive." She turns her attention back to her friends. "Max and I used to be friends. Best friends, actually. Right until before we went into seventh grade. Something happened and we stopped talking." She smiled and it looked sad.
Peter blinked and Stephanie's jaw almost dropped. Richie crossed his arms, eyes firmly on the ground.
"Wait. What?" Peter questioned, looking between them. "What happened?"
Ruth looked at Max. An unfamiliar feeling rose in his throat. He really didn't want to talk about this. So instead, he left it at a simple "I got angry."
"At what?" Stephanie should really know better, she knew his dad. But when he looked at her, he realized that she was verbalizing what the others weren't saying: was he angry at ruth.
"Do you want a list?" He couldn't help the snap in his tone, but Stephanie rolled her eyes. He frowned and looked away. He couldn't handle this. He turned around. It would take longer, but he needed to get back to his house. "I'm going home." The word stung like a cut on his tongue, a bold-faced lie since home hadn't existed for a long time.
Nobody even tried to stop him.
---
Max Jägerman is eighteen years old when he stops bullying people. He's aware its far from the only thing he needs to do to fix what's been left in the ruins of his teenage angst, but it's the first step.
They win against Clivesdale at the big game and when he looks to the stands his dad is still sat despite the swarms of people around him. He sticks out like a sore thumb and the look on his face sends cold fear into Max's soul.
He doesn't stick around on the field after the game to speak to his dad. The gear feels like the world is weighing on his shoulders and he begins picking apart every action he performed to predetermine where he went wrong in order for his dad to have that look on his face. He takes off his gear as swiftly as possible, putting on more comfortable clothes in a pair of sweatpants and a regular tee.
The door to the locker room opens and closes and fear rises in Max's chest but he steels his expression. He doesn't dare talk first. That has never gone well with his father. The steps are uneven and stumbling. Max's father's face walks around the corner and the smell of beer follows it. Max is aware that he's forgone safety in numbers, and the lack of cameras in the changing room provides no evidence of what might occur in the next few minutes.
"What d'you call that out there, mm?" His dad slurs as he stumbles around the corner, shoulder nicking the corner of the locker slightly. "D'you think th't was your best playing, boy?"
Max averts his eyes and shakes his head. "No."
"And why aren't you playing your best out there? You know that colleges are looking for potential scholarship opportunities. So why aren't you doing your best?" His dad gets closer, the sick stench of beer getting stronger, near suffocating.
There is no answer that would be a good one, so Max remains silent. The fist slamming against the locker beside him makes his eyes shoot up to meet his dad's face. Its twisted in intoxicated anger. The Jägerman patriarch is a hulking mass of a man. Tall and broad, maintaining muscle from his younger years but with pale almost sickly skin, fingertips, nails and teeth yellowed by decades of cigarettes being near chain-smoked. His hand grips the front of Max's shirt tightly, pulling him forward towards him.
"Do you want to answer me, boy?"
Max doesn't get a chance to answer, his dad taking a step back as Richie walks around the corner, Zeek mask held in both hands in front of him. He's frowning in confusion as he looks between the men. Max's dad looks at him then looks back to Max. He snarls slightly but pushes Max back.
"This conversation isn't over." He says before leaving.
The event looms in the silence as Max straightens out his shirt, avoiding looking at Richie as he removes the top of the mascot costume, even as he hears the struggle behind him when he turns to grab his shit from his locker. The silence that follows is somehow worse than it was before. Max is staring at the empty space of his locker and trying to hold back the anger that brews every time he sees his dad. When he turns back around, Richie is sat on the bench but facing the opposite way. It doesn't even really look like he's doing anything.
Belatedly, Max realizes that it's an open door if he wants to take it.
He sits, next to Richie but still facing away.
"I'm sorry." Max starts. "I know I owe so much more than an apology but. It's what I can do now."
They remain not looking at one another, even though everything in Max's soul wants to look at Richie.
"Were you really friends with Ruth when you were kids?" Richie asks, disregarding the apology. Max accepts the refusal of it.
"Yeah." He says.
"What was she like?" Max doesn't understand this line of questioning but he follows it anyway.
He exhales. "Well. Where do I start. She was… brighter than the sun. Taught me more than the teachers here ever have." A smile entered his face as he took the time to remember his childhood for once. "She gave me a pink band aid and had to change it to blue the next day, never asked what for. She helped me realize that-" Max cut himself off, looking further away.
"That?" Richie prompted. It sounded like he was smiling. It sounded nice. Max shook his head.
"Nothing." He hums.
"Did you like her? Like have feelings for her?"
Max frowns. "No. Never. She was always a friend and it felt weird when we just held hands."
Richie seems to ease beside him. They lapse into silence again. The chatter from the big game roars on outside, congratulation from the whole town of Hatchetfield loud in their ears. Max turns to the door, just visible from where it is to the side of Richie's head.
"Shouldn't you be out there? You won the game, after all." Richie points out.
Max says what comes to his head. "They won't notice I'm gone." The darker meaning behind it shocks him as Richie turns to face him, a frown on his face.
"What do you mean? You're the star quarterback." Max scoffs lightly.
"They don't care about that. They care that we won." He smiles bitterly.
Richie doesn't seem to understand, a crease forming between his eyebrows. Max looks away before he does something he'll regret. "But you're like. The most popular guy in school. Of course they'd notice that you're gone."
Max shakes his head with a smile. "Jason and Kyle have been hanging out with you, right?" He looks at Richie and watches him nod his head slowly. "Yeah. They haven't spoken to me since the first Monday after what happened at Waylon Hall." Max scratches at the base of his neck. This doesn't stop the confusion from growing on Richie's face. "And that's really. My fault. 'Cos when I stopped bullying you guys and told them to do the same, the threats I was using to keep them around had no more meaning so. They left." Max shrugged in a what-can-you-do motion. Because really, what could you do? He was once again alone and he deserved it more than ever.
Richie swung his legs over the bench, sitting next to Max parallel. He hums and looks up at Max. Max looks back at him. He didn't say anything and neither did Max. They just sat there, staring at one another for a good few minutes.
Richie hesitated before offering his hand in a handshake position. "I'm Richard Lipschitz, please call me Richie." A blank start.
Max paused a moment. Oh. He shakily took Richie's hand and shook it. "Max Jägerman. You're not knowing my full name."
Richie grinned cheekily. "Now you've said that, it's gonna be my life's mission to find it out."
Max smiles back. The dread for later that day dying in his chest to be replaced by adoration he tries to push down.
---
Max Jägerman is eighteen years old when he's coming to terms with the fact that he's going to homecoming alone.
He expects it, and is understanding in that he deserves it. He has been a dick for the better part of their high school life. Ruth has already offered to go as friends - he's so glad to be back to being friends with her - but he declines, knowing how she looks at some of their classmates like they are the sun to kiss her cheeks enough times to leave the expansive freckle constellations. He wants her to feel that.
Max would rather feel the stares as he enters alone.
Steph is going with Peter, and he's happy for her. Even if it's a little out of nowhere it was obvious from the get-go that Peter liked her, at least. And even before, he could tell she was interested in him.
Max doesn't know if Richie's got a date, he doesn’t even know if he's going, but he doesn't ask out of fear for being misunderstood and ruining what tentative friendship he's built over the last few weeks.
He's sat at Ruth's dinner table and he's listening to her talk about what she's planning to wear to homecoming. She's debating over a suit or a dress and Max doesn't understand why it matters, so he says as much.
"It matters because if I go with a boy then I don't want both of us to wear suits. And if I go with a girl I don't want both of us to wear dresses." She frowns at him.
Max sighs, stretching slightly. "Why can't you just wear both? Then no matter what you wear, you're gonna be mismatched." He meant for it to sound like a joke, but Ruth's gasp stops him from amending his mistake.
"Max, you are a genius." She grins. "Why didn't I think of that?"
Max shrugs and looks at his phone as it vibrates.
Richie: cmon y cant u just tell me ur full namw
Richie: + y did u ban askin ruth
Max smiles at the messages.
Max: cos its better if u figure it out by urself???
Max: n ruth would tell u so wheres the hunt
Richie: can I get something if I figure it out
Max: depends wat u want
Max: but I dunno y id give u somethin for figuring out something I didnt give awy
Richie: hmm
Richie: how abt if I fugure it out by homecoming we go togethr
Max resists the urge to throw his phone in surprise. He also ignores Ruth's giddy gasp from where she's now sat beside him.
Max: ???
Richie: if u want ofc
Max: uh
Max: ok
Max: sure
Richie: ur on >:)
Max puts his phone, locked, face down on the table. He avoids looking at Ruth, but can see her jumping in her seat from his peripheral.
"Calm." He says, though it probably means nothing to her at this point.
She does not calm down. "Why can't I just tell him? You've literally had a crush on him since we were like. Ten. That's eight years of a crush, man."
"And the most recent four of those were being a bully to you guys." Max counters, frowning. He shakes his head. "Sorry, but asking you is off the table." He shrugs as Ruth groans loudly.
"What's all the groaning about, sweet?" One of Ruth's mothers walks into the dining room and leans against the doorframe, an easy smile on her lips. She's got a warm mug in her hand, steam rising to contour around her face, dissipating in her breaths.
Ruth pouts. "Max isn't letting me tell Richie his full name because he's a ruin-er of fun and games and stuff." Max frowns at her.
"Wrong. I originally didn't want you telling him because there was no point in him knowing. Now I don't want you telling him because he can do much better than me."
"Hey. None of that bad self-talk at my dinner table, what do you mean 'he can do much better', huh?" She frowns and walks over, putting her mug on a coaster and pulling up a chair to sit next to him, creating a triangle between him, her and Ruth.
Max rolls his eyes and blames Ruth for putting him in this situation. He's glad he told the Flemings about being bi years ago. "I've liked Richie for years now, and he's just made a deal with me that if he can figure out my full name before homecoming, then we'll go together." Max plays with his hands. "I just think that he can do better than his ex-bully. Even if it's platonically going to homecoming."
Ruth's mom winces. "I see. Well. Richie has always been a nice, understanding boy from what I've seen of him. And you've grown a lot these past few weeks. I'm sure he's seen that and is giving you a chance. Why are you really hesitating on this so badly?" Max's brain almost stops at the question.
What?
He's not-?
Oh.
He is hesitating, isn't he?
Why is he hesitating?
He knows why. He just doesn't want to admit it. Ruth's other mom walks in and wraps their arms around their wife's neck.
"Why does it look like you've just broken Max?" They ask, pressing a kiss to her head. She smiles and laughs slightly.
"Because I have."
Ruth nods. "Dropped a bombshell on him enough to make him question his own actions. Last time that happened, five of us had to drop him through the floorboards of the third floor in Waylon Hall and almost kill him." She smiles, innocently.
"What." Both of her moms ask at the same time.
---
Max Jägerman is eighteen years old when he's waiting to see if he's still going to homecoming alone. It's the day before the dance and Max is lying down in bed, playing a stupid mobile game when he receives a text from Richie that sends his heart to his throat.
Richie: I've got it.
Max: full punctuation n captial
Max: must b serious
Richie: shut it
Richie: im gonna explain how I got yhrte but yh
Richie: middle name first
Richie: assuming you have only one????
Max: yh
Richie: k gud I was worries for a sec
Max: dont believe u
Richie: gud cos it was a lie
Richie: well at first I was like
Richie: its gotta be a family name
Richie: ur dads conceted enough 4 that
Richie: so its either his or his dads
Richie: but then u no
Richie: ur from pinebrook
Richie: u fuckers have family names in ur first name
Richie: excxept ud be a max the 3rd if it was 4 u so ur not
Richie: so I had 2 figure out ur dads name
Richie: which obviously is james
Richie: thx 2 hatchetfield librarby 4 that
Richie: did I get middle right????????????
Max blinks. This is almost getting his hopes up.
Max: wow uh
Max: yh
Richie: WOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!
Richie: k so first
Richie: max being middlename
Richie: its not maximilian
Richie: ruth has called u that arnd me and theres the no talking to ruth rule which im sure she nos
Richie: which leaves a few options
Richie: u dont look like a maximus
Richie: ur dad would definitely not call you maxim
Richie: so its either maxfield or maxwell
Richie: thx google for giving me names with max as nickname
Richie: imma be honest I didnt no maxfield was a name
Richie: so jus based on that
Richie: ur full name is as follows
Richie: Maxwell James Jägerman
Max's heart is beating out of his chest. Fuck. Fuck. He can't lie now. He can't. He struggles as to what he can say, shaking almost.
Max: u got it right
Max: congrats
He decides not to mention the deal. Just in case Richie wants to back out-
Richie: fk yeah
Richie: so homecoming still on?
Oh fuck he's down bad.
---
Max Jägerman is eighteen years old when he calls Ruth Fleming to rant about homecoming. It's the first time in a while that he's felt like a teenager, talking to his best friend about the boy he likes asking him to homecoming.
"I can't, Ruth. I can't do it." He's pacing around his room, thankful his father is out cold downstairs. "He deserves so much better than me, I should just text and say I'm ill or something."
"You can't do that, Max. You made a deal. You don't go back on a deal. Especially not in your situation." Ruth sounds clearer now she's got her headgear off. It's fixed her underbite and, though Max hasn't seen her yet, he can tell she's more confident in her appearance now. He knows she's right.
"I know. I just. I can't." He sits on his bed. "What if I'm reading this entirely wrong? What if it's meant in a platonic way? Ruth, I don't want to make a fool of myself." He groans and flops back to lay on his bed, feet brushing against the floor from where his knees are still bent at the edge of the bed.
"Then ask him, dude." She says, smiling.
"Fuck." And he only says it because he knows she's right. Before he can even send a text, though, he pauses. "Wait. I haven't told him I'm into guys." Ruth's silence is more than telling. "Ruth…"
"Listen. I did the same with him for you, okay? I unintentionally told you that he was gay, so I did the same but in reverse. It was like… payment." Max furrowed his eyebrows, leaning up so he was sitting back on his free arm.
"Why would he want to know if I'm into guys?"
"Fuck."
"Ruth Christine Fleming, you better tell me what the fuck was going on that made you tell him I liked guys." Max sat up properly.
"Oh… Oh no… ckshhhhrk… oh-chssk you're- 'utting- 't I can't-" and then Ruth hangs up the phone. Max sighs, supposing he had a reason to text Richie properly, now.
Max: I hope im not wrong when I ask this
Max: or this iis about to be a very fn conversation
Max: but did ruth tell you I liked guys
Richie: so THAT is what she was on abt
Richie: yh sorry
Richie: context too:
Richie: [a screenshotted conversation between richie and ruth where ruth types in jumbled up caps lock messages about apologies and max finding out. Some text is blacked out in some of both of their messages.]
Max: yh I guess so
Max: also rude of her to text while I was on the phone to her
Max: >:(
Richie: o fk rlly?
Richie: evrything gud?
Max: yh just
Max: actually fuck it
Max: why did u wanna know if I was
Richie: uh
Richie: oh
Richie: sorry ur
Richie: message isnt sending
Richie: woops
Richie: would you look at that
Richie: I have to uh
Max: did u and ruth take lessons in how to avoid telling the truth from the same class?????
Richie: go
Richie: what?
Max: she literally just faked the call cutting out to avoid the same topic
Richie: o
Max: yh
Richie: uh
Richie: surprise?
Richie: this feels funky to talk abt over text
Max: well im not waiting to figure it out until tmrw
Max: call?
Instead of responding, Richie called him. Max answered after the second ring.
"You totally waited for the second call to pick up." Richie sounded nervous, but his voice was still amused.
Indignantly, Max responded. "Shut it. Not the topic of conversation."
"Ask me, then." The tone made it clear that Richie was trying to maintain some sort of control over this, like he was the one asking the question and not being asked it. It almost hit a similar spot in Max's brain as when he would tease the nerds. It was just as sweet and even more intoxicating and addicting. His brain could do nothing but attempt to picture the expression on Richie's face, what physical situations would bring the shaky command to his throat.
Max discarded these thoughts for a later time. For now, he'd comply.
"Why did you want to know if I was into men, Richie." Though the same question, it was rather a statement, one his subconscious already knew the answer to, but one he wanted to hear be said directly to him. The statement had caused Richie to audibly hold his breath and exhale shakily.
"I think you know-"
"I want to hear you say it." Max interrupted. He stares at the wall opposite him. This feels like some elaborate foreplay from one of the porn videos on the internet. It's certainly not helping any situations.
"I…" Richie paused. Max waited. "I wanted to… see if I had a chance."
Max held back his own need to exhale at the confession. "Okay." He nodded to himself. A moment passes, and then he adds on, "you do." Before hanging up the phone and leaving it on his bed to head downstairs to get a drink of water.
He doesn't notice that his father's not sitting on the couch anymore.
---
Max Jägerman is eighteen years old and he is going to homecoming with a black eye and another boy.
He doesn't miss the look of concern he gets when he turns up at Ruth's house at 2am with a black eye and split lip. But he's treated to an ice pack and is able to wash his face in the bathroom sink. Ruth sat with him and smiled when he did in his retelling of the evening's events, even if it's why he's bruised up.
The next day greets him with allowance for an indefinite stay at the Fleming house, tired of the treatment from his father, and promises that they'll help him get out. He believes them.
The day passes by quickly and before he knows it, he's in a shirt and slacks outside Hatchetfield High.
It’s a cool night, but he doesn't really feel it. His phone lights up his face as he tries to ignore the stinging disappointment that his dad hasn't even text him. He knows that it's stupid to want contact from him. But for practically his whole life, it was just the two of them. Even if his dad hurts him, a stupidly optimistic part of himself hopes that maybe this time it'll be better this time.
Footsteps approach him and he locks his phone. Richie is stood in front of him in a shirt, vest and trousers. And Max has to fake his reaction being nothing because he's almost floored by him. He smiles and stands up.
"Hey." Richie says, smiling.
"Hey." Max returns.
"Are you okay?" Richie is looking at Max's eye and he shrugs.
"I will be. D'you wanna head in?" Max asks. His nerves feel raised but calm slightly when Richie nods and gives an easy, warm smile.
"I just want to…" Richie shakily takes Max's hand. It nearly short-circuits his brain. "Is that okay?" Richie adds in a whisper that's placed too close to Max's ear to do anything but set his soul aflame. He settles for a nod, thankful for the early evening covering his warming face.
They head inside.
---
Max Jägerman is nineteen and living by himself in a shitty little apartment but he's the happiest he's been for a while. He's got good friends, a found family in Ruth and her parents, and has somehow kept Richard "Richie" Lipschitz as a boyfriend for over a year.
One day, when looking in the mirror after a shower with too low water pressure, he realizes he's got a few speckles of sun kisses across the backs of his hands and arms.
He can't help the smile that works its way onto his face. He understands why Ruth looked proud of them all those years ago.
They look like love incarnate.