Chapter Text
“Good morning, sweetheart…”
Max groaned dramatically, scrunching her face as the sunlight pressed against her eyelids. She stretched out across the bed like a lazy cat, limbs heavy and uncooperative, if Max was being honest, clinging to sleep instead of listening to whatever junk her mom might have to say felt soooo good right now.
A warm hand rubbed slow circles between her shoulders.
This earned a huff from Max, more out of habit than anger. The redhead rolled away from the touch before whining softly, blinking her eyes open. “Whas’ it, Mom? I’m tired…” she slurred, her voice rough and tainted with sleep. Max rubbed her drowsy eyes before her vision cleared, and her mother’s face came into focus in front of her.
Okay, this “wake up” from her mother caught Max a little off guard. Usually her mom was too busy making breakfast for Neil, fetching beers for Neil, or working her part-time job she recently picked up cause Neil had been calling out so many times, due to some stupid hangovers (most likely ‘cause of Billy), or just not showing up. The last time her mother came and woke her up like this was… wait, her last birthday? Which meant—
“Did you forget what day it is today, baby? It’s your birthday, August 14th, silly girl…” her mother chuckled before she started to gently play with Max’s hair, waving the strands in between her fingers, gently trying to brush it out. Max’s hair was usually tangled the moment she woke up from bed. Her mom always joked that if she dyed her hair brown, birds would confuse it for a bird's nest.
Max’s gaze slipped past her mother and landed on the tiny item spread on the bed, a small white gift box, wrapped in a blue lace, with shellfish designs. It even made Max feel slightly nostalgic, reminding her of California, which Max assumes is why her mom got the specific box. “I have a gift for you, Maxie.” Her mother’s voice was soft and careful, the kind that made it hard for Max to stay annoyed. For a moment, she even let the nickname slide, ‘Maxie’, the one she usually hated.
Yeah, maybe Max forgot her own birthday. Honestly, how could she not? When your stepbrother dies in front of you two weeks prior, and the world keeps trying to end, dates stop meaning anything. Especially birthdates.
Max pushed the thought in the back of her head, like she usually does. Then lazily she got up as she slouched her back looking at her mom, “You have a gift f’r me?” She questioned as she yawned once more.
Her mother grinned, the smile budded on her lips as she handed Max the gift box, her eyes looming softly on her daughter as Max returned the smile, whatever the gift was, Max knew her mom at least cared enough to remember, so if the gift was bad, she’d just, play along, for the sake of her mom of course.
While Max opened the box, her mom tucked a strand of Max’s hair in the back of her ear. It was a bracelet, a pretty girly bracelet with shiny pink hearts, and some shells with a purple-golden lacey string, with a pendant in the middle engraved with the letter “M” on it. Max kept smiling.
The bracelet was… yeah, definitely girly, definitely not her style. But her mom had clearly worked hard to get it, and Max wasn’t about to ruin that. She appreciated it, even if she’d never admit it out loud. Her mom was trying. That had to be enough.
“Oh! And honey, the pendant opens…!” Her mother said with the cheery expression still on her face, her mom opened the pendant gently and then closed it, “Just if you ever wanna put pictures of any of your friends… ooor boyfriends…?” Max's face felt flushed before shaking her head and chuckled at her mother's words.
“You’re getting ahead of yourself mom.” She said it, feeling her stomach twist as her mind flickered to Lucas. Their relationship… hadn’t been doing so well these days.
“Can’t a mother just dream, Maxine?” Her mom giggled as Max rolled her eyes playfully. Interactions like these with her mom were rare these days, usually ruined by Neil’s bickering, or her mom just not being home because of it. Max missed this. Max missed her mom.
But the warmth didn’t last long; it usually never did these days. Her mother’s smile faltered, just a little, and she sat back. “Sweetheart… I know it’s been hard,” she began, voice soft, careful. Max groaned inwardly, already guessing where this was heading. Billy.
“I just want you to know that I love you, baby.” Her mom’s voice softened, gentle and careful, carrying the kind of care Max hadn’t heard in a long time.
“Yeah- yeah, I know mom, I love you too.” Max breathed out, looking up at her mom with a bit of a confused expression.
“I know it’s been hard, Maxie… with— with Billy being gone, and it affecting Neil… and affecting you,” her mom’s voice wavered with care. “You’ve grown distant, and I’m not blaming you for it, but I- I just worry, Maxine. That’s all I do now… worry for you two. I just want you to know I’m here for you. You don’t have to do it alone. You know that, right, Maxine?”
Max nodded, fidgeting with the bracelet in her hands. Her stomach twisted. She’d heard the same conversation come out of Lucas’s mouth, El’s mouth, and now her mom was saying it too. She got it. She was changing. Different. Moody. And she hated hearing it, hated it.
She also hated the fact that her mom couldn’t just focus on just her, that Neil had to be dragged into this too. As if Neil were the child that needed taking care of, besides her own literal daughter.
Her mother placed a soft, comforting hand on her shoulder as Max shoved it off with a wiggle, “I’m fine, Mom.” Her eyes grew a bit glassy, and her throat burned, but she huffed, ignoring the feeling. “Thank you so much for the bracelet.” The teen mumbled.
“Yeah, of course, sweetheart…” her mother said, but her tone wavered, just a little, restless. “I also… uh, forgot to mention, Maxie, you have a classification appointment… at ten, I've just been working so much recently I completely forgot to tell you, I’m sorry baby.”
Max’s stomach sank. Of course. She was fourteen, and how could she have forgotten? Her whole day, and mood, just felt like it had flipped upside down.
“What? Do I really have to go, Mom?” she sighed, trying to keep her voice level but failing. “It’s stupid. Neutral runs in the family… Why even bother if I’m obviously going to be a neutral?”
She crossed her arms, trying to keep herself together, but the frustration only grew. She didn’t want to go. Hospitals made her skin crawl. Too many memories, too many shadows from that night, too many emotions. And honestly… she just didn’t want to go, that’s it.
“Maxie… baby, you know it’s state-mandated, honey,” her mom said, her voice soft and gentle. Pet names. Her mom always used them to calm her down, and sometimes it worked. Back when she was younger and when she stressed, her mom’s soothing voice could calm down her anger… but not now. Max was upset. Why should she go? Why should she have to relive some stupid memory? She didn’t want to.
“Mom, I’m not a child anymore,” Max snapped, raising her voice, crossing her arms. “Those stupid nicknames aren’t going to calm me down. I don’t wanna go. This whole thing is just… stupid.”
That’s when her door was basically slammed open, a familiar smell of booze tainted her room, with that it came with memories of a blonde mullet, a blue Camaro, and a booming voice she hadn’t heard in a while.
It was Neil. It’s always Neil.
“Are you talk’n to your mother with that tone, Maxine…?” Neil growled, frustrated and tipsy. It was eight in the fucking morning, and he was already drinking, typical behavior with someone as viscous as him. Susan scrambled slightly, standing up,
“Honey, it’s alright. Maxine and I were just talking,” her mom said, worry threading her voice as she reached out to pat Neil’s chest softly, like she was trying to calm a storm—or a rabid dog. Neil shook his head, swaying slightly from the alcohol, his gaze sharp and unyielding. Max met it, matching him as best she could, but despite herself, a shiver of fear ran through her.
“You and your attitude are going to get you nowhere, Maxine,” Neil hissed, his voice low and dangerous, eyes glinting like he was hunting. Max froze, heart hammering in her chest, but she forced herself to stand her ground.
“Well, I would know… look at you,” she bit back, the words sharper than she intended. For a moment, she saw it in his face… the anger, the shock… and it was enough to make him shove Susan roughly aside and make her fall. Max barely had time to register the movement before he lunged at her, hand snatching her wrist with a grip so hard she felt the pressure biting into her skin. She could already feel it bruising, the harsh sting mixing with the sudden, welling tears in her eyes. Her lip trembled, her nose tinged, and there were pools of tears threatening to spill.
“Ohhh… is someone scared now? Are you gonna cry?” Neil taunted, his voice dripping with malice, dragging out every word like it was a weapon. And just like that, the memory of Billy hit her. That same mocking, cruel tone that had haunted her for so long, and the fear coiled tighter in her chest. Max’s breath hitched as she tried to pull free, but the grip on her wrist was iron,
“Neil— NEIL, sweetheart, STOP! PLEASE… She… she understands, she learned her lesson!” Max’s mom babbled desperately on the floor to get Neil’s attention.
Neil turned around to look at her mom. Max’s wrist burned where his grip had dug in, and for a brief moment, she thought he wasn’t going to let go. Then, as if something in her mother’s pleading eyes struck a chord, Neil released her hand- but not gently. It dropped with a harsh smack against her side, making her wince. He paused, taking one last, sharp look at the girl trembling in front of him, his eyes flickering with something Max couldn’t read, something that reminded him far too much of his own son.
The silence that followed was heavy, filled with unspoken threats, and Max’s chest heaved as she struggled to calm the panic curling tight inside her.
“You start to act like him more and more every fucking day. Pathetic.” He spat before thrashing and ripping one of Max’s skateboard posters onto the floor. ‘Hypocrite.’ Max whispered tearfully as she swallowed hard, the sandy texture in her mouth, she needed to cry, but she couldn’t let herself cry. She just couldn’t- not with her mom just inches away, her own quiet sobs barely contained. The guilt coiled tight in Max’s chest. This… this stupid fight, all of it… It was her fault.
She crawled over to her mom, her lip quivering. “Shit, Mom… I’m sorry. I didn’t-”
Her mother's eyes softened, reflecting Max’s own fear and guilt. She cupped Max’s cheeks gently and sighed. “It’s okay, baby… It’s alright. He… he just… gets like that. I’m okay, really, baby…”
Max’s gaze drifted to the dark bruise Neil had left. “It’s fine, Mom. It doesn’t hurt as much as it looks,” she mumbled, trying to sound braver than she felt.
Her mom exhaled, wiping a few stray tears from her own eyes before planting a soft kiss on Max’s forehead. “I’m so sorry, baby…”
Max shook her head. “I am too, Mom…”
Great way to start a birthday, huh? An alcoholic stepfather reminding you of your shitstain of a brother! Awesome!
Her mom pushed herself up, dusting off her pants with a weary sigh. “How about you get ready for the day, honey? Your appointment’s in an hour…” she said gently.
Max just nodded, following her lead. Complying was easier than arguing, easier than dealing with the aftermath of Neil’s rage. For now… she just needed to start complying.
Max wasn’t really the type to get “dolled up” for anything. Clothes, hair, makeup, she usually couldn’t care less. But when it came to doctor appointments or anything like this, her mom always insisted she look… respectable. Or, at least, “like a girl.” Whatever the hell that meant.
Now she was in the shared bathroom, fingers running through her hair as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Thoughts swirled in her head… annoyance, worry, frustration… about this stupid classification test she had no interest in taking! She started to think about the party.
She was the youngest— obviously, which annoyed her more than it should have. Everyone else was already fourteen. Will’s classification stuck in her mind the most; he’d turned fourteen in March and then dropped that news on them like it was nothing. She remembered when he got classified.
It was months after they had finally defeated the Demogorgons, the Demodogs, and closed the gate.
No one had really been surprised when Will was classified as a little, but the way he handled it had shocked her anyway. His appointment had not long after they’d celebrated his birthday, cake and streamers still kind of lingering in Max’s memory.
He’d told them about it a week after, after the calls had already started. Mike and everyone else were ringing the Byers’ house nonstop, panicking, asking if Hawkins was in danger again, if something had come back, if they needed to pull a “Code Red”.
Will had called Mike himself, summoning the whole gang back to Mike’s basement. And that’s when they all learned… Will was little, and Will admitted that he was… okay with it.
But what stood out most to Max was this: he didn’t want anyone to treat him differently. Not his friends. Not his family, somehow, that bravery from the kid who basically went through literal hell and back, just being himself and smiting to his classification, and just being okay with it… made Max respect him even more.
Then there was Mike. Sometime around April, a couple of days after his birthday, she remembered being with the whole party. Somewhere in Mike’s basement, where they were exactly wasn't the point. Mike had been antsy that day, more antsy than he usually had been.
Back then, Max was finally being seen as a party member. Well, barely, but she was finally feeling included in these basement hangouts. (Even if Eleven still seemed to hate her. Max still didn’t know why…)
Then, Max realized that Mike’s eyes were shiny with tears. It pulled Max straight back to that night when Will was the spy, when Mike came back from talking to him alone, pale and shaking. Like he was already grieving the idea that Will might never be normal again.
She remembered Will was the first to speak up, consoling him, Max really didn’t remember what Will said to Mike, but Mike just blurted out, “I’m- I was classified a flip. I’m a flip-” He repeated, a bad habit the party grew used to whenever Mike felt like he needed something to really be heard, that’s when Max remembered his ramble.
“For my little side, ’m… I’m in the older ranges. four to eleven.” Mike’s voice cracked as he talked. “The classificationist- that son of a bitch classificationist- said it’s what my bloodwork showed. It’s stupid. I know you guys didn’t think I was going to be a flip out of all things, but… but I am. And it’s whatever.”
Max remembered his cheeks were flushed pink, matching the tip of his nose. Max remembered how he tried to look annoyed about it, tried to make it sound like he didn’t care, but his hands were shaking.
The party had gone quiet.
Then Lucas stood first, crossing the basement and clapping a hand on Mike’s back. Dustin followed a second later, bumping Mike’s shoulder like it was no big deal. El gave him a soft smile, eyes warm.
“It is okay, Mike,” El had said gently.
Will nodded beside her. “We’re not going to see you any differently,” he added, voice steady. “If that’s what you’re afraid of.”
Then Dustin chimed in,
“If you think about it, it’s actually kind of awesome you’re a flip. It means you can take care of other people and let other people take care of you. Like a paladin,” he said, hands moving as he explained.
“They’re the ones who protect the party, but they’re also allowed to fall back and be protected when they’re hurt. They’ve got armor, yeah, but they also get to put it down sometimes. That’s… basically you. Flips are rare, embrace it, man!”
Max remembered standing there with her arms crossed, saying nothing. Not because she didn’t care but because she couldn’t find the right words. Her chest had felt tight, something complicated twisting in her stomach. She didn’t know if it was sympathy, jealousy, fear… or all three.
Dustin and Lucas’s classification was what she’d hoped would happen to her the most. Their birthdays landed a week apart from each other around May, so the two thought it would be awesome if they got their mothers to set their appointments on the same day. That way, they didn’t have to face whatever news they got alone.
Which, in retrospect, made sense, it’s nice not to find out good or bad news alone. When they both found out, same day, same time, that they were neutrals, they just burst out laughing about it. They told the party later that afternoon in Mike’s basement. Max remembered leaning back on the couch and smirking at Lucas, saying, “Guess you’re just too boring and normal, huh, Stalker?” Lucas only grinned that big dorky grin of his, like he always did, and Max had laughed too.
For a second, it had all felt easy, for the two of them at least.
Out of all of six of them, there wasn’t a caregiver, until it was El’s turn to be classified.
She remembered overhearing, a while back, that they had finally gotten the papers for El to be recognized as “Jane.” It hadn’t been simple, Mike said that El told him that Hop had mountains of forms and meetings and signatures that they had to keep on the down low with a man called ‘Owen’s’ and, well, Hopper had grumbled through most of it. But it meant that, officially, she could start school like everyone else.
They were planning for her to begin at Hawkins High sometime between ’85 and ’86, once everything was sorted out, she could become freshmen with the rest of the party.
But before any of that could happen, El had to be classified too. That was just another part of the process, another line on another form.
And so even though at the time Eleven had hated Max, the party (including her) still crowded around El, awaiting to hear about her classification after she told Will to get everyone to Mike’s basement.
“The doctor of classifications… said I was a Care…giver? Said it was good, said I have a nur-turing side?”
“Nurturing!” Dustin corrected, his usual toothless grin, which earned him a laugh from El as she nodded,
“Yes…” El said softly, Will stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, and the others followed without hesitation. Mike, Lucas, Dustin, all of them closing in around her in this awkward, warm tangle of a group hug.
Everyone except Max.
She stayed where she was, arms hanging uselessly at her sides. She watched them instead, feeling the familiar prickle beneath her skin that out-of-place feeling she never could quite shake. She didn’t think she had the right to join in, not really. So she kept quiet, kept still, because the last thing she wanted was to ruin the moment.
Max huffed as she finished tying her hair into her usual braids, fingers moving on autopilot. She pulled on a striped T-shirt. It was yellow, orange, and blue, and a pair of cuffed jeans. It was getting chillier out lately, the kind of cold that snuck in through the windows, and she felt it even here in the bathroom, ugh, Max always hated the cold.
She caught her reflection again and sighed. Her thoughts, which had finally gone quiet for a minute, kicked back into motion.
Yeah. She really had to go to this stupid appointment, didn’t she?
Fidgeting with the bracelet her mother gave to her, the bathroom door peeled open, revealing her mom, a soft smile creeping up her mother's lips as she walked over and rubbed Max’s back.
“Hey, honey, there’s a phone call for you. She says it’s your friend Jane?” Max’s eyes perked up- did El remember her birthday?
“Okay, Mom, I’ll go answer it,” she said, a small smile tugging at her lips.
“Alright, sweetheart. I’ll get the car started so we can head to your appointment.”
Max groaned silently to herself but just nodded.
“Happy birthday, Max!” El practically beamed over the phone. Max could hear a lot of noise in the background, a lot of rustling, and… Dustin and Lucas bickering about a certain color of streamers? Oh God, these idiots always knew how to cheer Max up.
“You remembered! Thanks, El.” Max grinned, feeling her cheeks warm up, the same feeling in her chest.
“You’re not supposed to do anything today… empty all of your plans… Dustin told me to tell you that.”
“Oh, did he now? Does that also come with being chained to my room until further notice or something?” Max teased, hearing El giggle over the phone.
“He said: Robin and Steve are picking you up to go over to Steve’s house for a little get-together for your birthday. Dustin said you'd better be at your house so they can pick you up, that you’d better be there, or… you’ll become a square.”
Max practically choked on her own laugh.
“El… I think you mean ‘be there or be square?’”
The two girls shared a laugh.
“So… you’ll be able to get picked up by Steve and Robin? At two o’clock? It’s just the party, and older kids… Steve said if they wanted to use his house, he’d have to surprise,”
She was guessing between the party, that this little birthday bash for Max was planned by Lucas. He probably begged Dustin to ask Steve to use his house, and ultimately it worked.
Max let out a long sigh that probably carried over the phone as she fumbled with the cords, twisting them between her fingers. Honestly, it wasn’t like she was going to be classified as anything other than a neutral. And… Well, maybe a small distraction from the hellhole she has to call home wouldn’t hurt anyone; it wasn’t like her mom planned anything else for her.
“Steve has a pool. He says we can swim!”
Okay, this was very tempting for Max. Alright, why the hell not.
“Okay, I’m in. I won’t be a square, I just have a stupid appointment to go to, but I’ll make it back in time.
“Appointment? Are you sick? Are you okay, Max?” El’s voice was soft and laced with concern; the sound of it made something small twist in Max’s chest… too warm, too close to a feeling she didn’t want to look at right now. She pushed it down just as quickly as it came, pretending she hadn’t noticed it at all.
“No! Nothing like that, El, I’m perfectly fine.” Physically, at least, “It’s just cause it’s my birthday, and I’m turning fourteen…” should she just lie? There wasn’t a point in lying,
“My mom thought it would be great to book my classification appointment on the same fucking day as my birthday, so that’s that.” Max rolled her eyes.
“Ah, I understand— wait! Mike, Lucas! Wait— Dustin!!!!” A loud CRASH was heard over the phone, and what Max presumably assumed was Steve groaning loudly, and Robin giggling at the group, “I have to go, Max. Your appointment will go good! I’ll see you later today, Wait, Will!—“
Click.
Max huffed out a bemused chuckle, her face then dropping as she sighed once more, peering over to the window, seeing her mom wait in the driver's seat for her.
Max always liked car drives back in California, because longer rides usually meant mountains, and she always loved the view. If she were lucky, she’d be able to see a bunch of fancy houses, and sometimes, just a silly thought, she’d love to imagine herself older in those houses.
But the view in Hawkins was definitely different. As you can imagine, it wasn't as good, and it was always some type of damp because of the rain. And as of right now, the weather outside was a low type of gloomy, which brought a sort of fog. It was interesting to see, but her mother could beg to differ.
Her mom wasn’t exactly known for her driving skills, and her taste in music wasn’t much better. A car honked behind them, definitely because she was going way too slow. Max let her head fall against the window, the glass cool on her temple, fingers fidgeting restlessly with her bracelet.
Max flinched a bit as she saw the bracket was half covering her bruised wrist before slouching. Her lips were dry, and she kept worrying at them with her teeth as some awful song crackled through the radio.
Of course, her mom liked this classical music stuff. Max wished she could lean over and switch it to Madonna or literally anything decent; she was tempted.
The drive felt endless, like the road was stretching itself out just to mess with her. Max shifted in her seat, something tight and uncomfortable pressing at her ribs. Not really pain, just that restless feeling that wouldn’t go away. It was quiet in the car, just the two of them, no Neil hovering in the doorway or barking from the other room.
With him not there, the silence felt different. Lighter. And that was what made the thought creep in again, the one she kept shoving down and pretending she didn’t have. Maybe… maybe she and her mom didn’t have to stay. Maybe they could actually leave Neil, the piece of shit that he was.
She had always thought of this possibility, guiltily, ever since Billy died. She wondered what the point of staying with Neil? She hadn’t really talked about this with anyone besides El and Lucas…
Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to bring it up before the appointment. The words sat heavy on her tongue, stubborn and scared all at once. What happened earlier that morning was literally proof enough.
Her mom always found excuses for him. But Max was tired of excuses. Tired of pretending this was normal. Maybe, if she said it at the right moment… maybe her mom would finally listen, maybe this was the best time? It was just the two of them.
“Hey, mom…?” Max spoke, her mouth growing dry, anxiety slowly creeping up on her, ‘Fuck, don’t mess this up.’ Thought Max, her knee bouncing at the thought of the conversation she was about to have.
“Yeah, what is it, Maxie?” Her mom replied, eyes focused on the road, the car nearing a stop as they were at a red light.
“You know we could leave, right?” Max said, surprising even herself with how steady her voice sounded. “I mean… it wouldn’t be easy. We wouldn’t have a lot of money, and it’d probably suck for a while, but…” she swallowed, eyes fixed on the road ahead, “…we could do it if we actually planned it. We don’t have to keep staying with him.”
She hesitated, searching for the right words.
“I just don’t get why we keep putting up with him when he’s always so… angry. All the time.” Her voice dipped, softer now, the words feeling sharp in her mouth. “And it’s not like Billy’s going to come back.”
The sentence landed like a punch. Saying it made her chest twist, like something inside her had turned the wrong way around. She hated how true it was. She hated that she was the one who had said it.
Her mother didn’t look at her, instead. Her shoulders dropped, and the corners of her mom’s lips twitched uncomfortably, as if she didn’t know what to say next.
For a second, Max thought she might actually answer. Instead, her mother let out a thin breath through her nose and forced a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“Let’s… let’s just focus on today, okay?” she said gently. “Your appointment’s important. We’ll talk about everything else later.”
Max rolled her eyes and eyed the side of the window and nodded to herself like that response totally settled it, like she hadn’t just dodged the entire conversation and shoved it into some imaginary “later” that never came.
The classic brush-off. Tuck it away, smooth it over, pretend it’s not happening. The car filled with the hum of the engine and whatever awful song was on the radio, and Susan didn’t say anything else. Max turned back to the window, irritation simmering under her ribs. Of course, her mom pushed it aside. She always did.
“Yeah, okay, whatever mom.” Max bit her tongue and kept quiet for the rest of the ride.
Hospitals fucking sucked.
She hated the way the fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, blinking like they were about to burn out but never actually doing her the favor. She hated the smell… that weird, too-clean chemical stink that sat in the back of her throat. Even the walls were trying too hard, covered in pastel paintings of smiling animals and rainbows, like slapping a cartoon on the problem could make everything less awful.
It didn’t. None of it stopped her stomach from twisting itself into knots.
She and her mom checked in at the front desk, Susan’s voice polite and small while Max kept her hands shoved into the pockets of her jacket. Appointment at ten, yeah, yeah, she knew. Once the receptionist nodded them along, they took two seats in the waiting area.
Max let herself look around just quick glances, but the ugly baby pink wallpaper was enough to make Max mentally throw up everywhere. Everything was just so stereotypical.
There were a few kids around her age, some staring down at their shoes, some fidgeting with toys or bands on their wrists, some like her. A couple of older teens were there too, and she could tell right away who was regressed, with the vacant soft look in their eyes. The way they leaned into the adults next to them, clutching stuffed animals like they were lifelines.
Her throat felt tight. She dropped her gaze to the floor tiles, counting the cracks instead.
She really, really wanted to be anywhere else but here.
“Max?” Her mother questioned, her voice grazed with concern, “It’ll be alright. You’ll be perfectly fine. If anything happens, I’m here to support you. Who knows, you could even be a caregiver. You definitely have that fierceness in you, baby.” Her mother beamed at this as Max just shrugged, looking away.
I mean, it'd be better than little?
“Maxine Mayfield?” Called one of the doctors, bustling out the back doors as the older doctor looked around, she had long brunette hair that was a bit bushy, but it was the current style, her glasses were big and bright green, and her stethoscope had little purple and blue hearts on it. Max got up, and so did her mother.
“Yeah, that’s me,” she raised her hand awkwardly, piercing her lips as she shuffled over with her mom. The lady gave Max a warm smile as they started walking to the back of the hallways, closing the door behind them.
“It’s nice to meet you, Maxine-“
“Max, it’s just Max. No one calls me Maxine.”
“Ah, yes, apologies, Max.” The correction earned a small glance from her mother, who said nothing. The doctor cleared her throat once more before leading the two into a room, shutting the door right after.
The room was decorated for, well… littles. Obviously.
The walls had these giant painted clouds and balloons drifting across them, like the whole place was trying to pretend it was a preschool instead of a government building. There were plastic bins full of blocks and picture books pushed into the corner near some cubbies, a low table stacked with coloring pages- crayons already worn down to pathetic nubs. which Max questioned if that was sanitary? Max stared at it all and had to fight the urge to roll her eyes straight out of her skull.
Subtle, she thought. Real subtle.
She slouched further into her chair, arms crossed tight over her chest. A toddler somewhere down the hall squealed, and someone else giggled, and everything in her wanted to crawl right out of her skin.
“Is all this really necessary?” she muttered under her breath, mostly to herself, but loud enough that Susan shot her a quick warning look. The doctor chuckled at the comment.
“Well, yes and no. I can tell you don’t really have a liking for walls, huh? I’ll let you in on a little secret, it’s purposely designed like that, just to help us with the classification test. Depending on the person's reaction, I can tell you have a strong one.” The doctor bemused.
Max shared a sardonic smile with her. Maybe this dumb appointment wouldn’t be too bad.
“Is it also designed to give me a headache, too?” Max asked sarcastically. Max shared a smile with the doctor, which made Max’s mom hold the bridge of her nose, and earned another laugh from the doctor.
“Yeah, surprisingly, even some littles themselves thought the walls were a bit too much. Others? They love it. It just depends on who you are, anywho,” The doctor gathered the stack of paperwork that had been sitting off to the side, aligning the edges with practiced efficiency.
She tapped the bottom of the bundle twice against the desk, the sharp clack echoing in the quiet room as the pages snapped neatly into place. The same way Max remembered her elementary teacher, Mrs. Charles, would do right after a hard test, Max rested her elbows on top of the table,
“My name is Dr.Victoria, but like you my friend, I go by a nickname, Dr.Tori.” Dr.Victoria started shuffling through Max’s paperwork, “And it looks like you're here to get classified? Your mother signed these papers in advance a few weeks ago, and we finally got to schedule you an appointment, on your birthday, too. Happy birthday, Max.” The lady said, clicking her tongue, focused on the paperwork in her hands.
“Yeah, thank you,” Max replied awkwardly.
“So, the classification assessment has three parts today, sweetheart,” the doctor said, her tone warm but professional. “First, we’ll do your bloodwork,” Max felt her insides cringe. She hated needles, but she wasn’t a baby… she could handle it.
“Before we draw it, I’ll give you a small pill, which helps activate the markers we look for in your blood, so your results are accurate. After that, we’ll move on to the behavioral portion, and then we’ll finish with a short interview. Nothing you can ‘pass’ or ‘fail,’ it just helps us understand where you fall on the spectrum of classifications.”
Max just nodded, she just- needed to get this over with, and then she could go home to her friends and have that birthday bash they were planning for her, just think good things.
Dr. Victoria offered Max a small, reassuring smile and then stood up from her chair.
“I’m just going to grab what we need,” she said lightly. “The pill and the draw kit, and then we’ll get started.”
She crossed the room to a tall cabinet in the corner, unlocking it with a quick turn of a key. Max watched her sort through neatly labeled bottles and sterile packages, the faint rustle of plastic and paper filling the silence. The doctor selected a small white bottle and set it on the metal tray, then added sealed vials, alcohol wipes, and a wrapped syringe.
The tray clinked softly as she carried it back over, laying everything out with careful, practiced movements. This shit was freaky.
Max swallowed, trying not to stare at the needle. Max felt a comforting hand on her back, it was her mom, “You’ll be okay, Maxine.”
“Yeah- Yeah mom, I- I know. I can handle it, it’s just some paltry little shot. I’ll live.” Max shrugged as Dr.Victoria came with gloved hands, handing Max a big, bright liquid tablet. It was red, it looked glossy on the inside, which made Max feel weird, yet it wasn’t too big to swallow.
“Here you go, Hun, I’ll get you some water and once you swallow, we’ll wait at least five minutes, then I can get ready to draw your blood, Okay?” Max took the pill as she nodded, squirming a bit, looking at the needle.
The older lady grabbed a small cup of water and handed it to Max, “Just swallow it if it were Tylenol, no difference,” and so Max did just that.
They waited a few minutes, then the doctor sat down and started to get the tubes and bands ready to draw Max’s blood.
“Alright, do you want Mom to hold your hand when we draw some blood?” Dr.Victoria asked, disinfecting her arm. Max looked at her mom before nodding, a weak Max glanced at her mom, then away just as fast. Her throat felt tight.
“I guess,” she muttered, the words coming out thinner than she meant them to.
Susan’s hand slipped into hers, warm and careful. Max didn’t squeeze back at first. Then the elastic tourniquet snapped into place around her upper arm, tugging at her skin, and she did- just a little.
“Deep breath in,” the doctor murmured.
Max watched the needle hover for half a second too long. Then there was the sting- sharp, hot, like a bee bite that went deeper than it should have. Her muscles tensed on instinct, shoulders creeping up toward her ears. She could feel the pressure as the needle settled, not exactly pain now, but a dull, insistent awareness.
Warmth flooded into the vial. She tried not to look at it.
Her fingers tightened around her mom’s without meaning to. Embarrassing. Whatever. She focused on a crack in the ceiling tile instead, jaw clenched, eyes prickling despite herself.
“Good job,” Dr. Victoria said softly. “Almost done… and there we go.”
The needle slid out, another quick sting, and then the cool press of gauze and tape replaced it. Max let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, chest feeling hollow and tight at the same time.
“See? You did just fine,” her mom whispered.
Max rolled her eyes half-heartedly, but she didn’t let go of her hand right away. The doctor cleaned Max up, even rewarding Max with a shark bandaid on top, into which Max flushed about before sighing. It was done.
The doctor clasped the tubes, getting up, “Okay, these are going through the testers, so I’ll be right back.” Added, leaving the door closed behind her.
A minute had passed, and Max was still tugging on her bracelet. The doctor swiftly walked back in and sat in her chair across from Max and her mom.
“Alright mom,” the doctor faced Max's mom, tone serious, “On this portion of the test, we usually have parents step out, so the child can answer for themselves, just to accurately have our results. So if you could please…?” She angled before Max’s mom nodded, swiftly picking herself up Max gave her mom a small look of fear, mounted on her face.
“You’ll do fine, Maxie.” Her mother whispered, leaving the room. Max sighed before turning her back towards Dr.Victoria, a piece of paper in front of her, dividing the two.
“Okay, hun, I’m going to ask you about… fifteen questions,” ugh, hearing that made Max want to scream; she can not stand being in this room any longer.
The test wasn’t too bad, at first there were your usual obvious questions, ‘Have you felt any strong way when it comes to caring for littles, or younger people?” To which Max replied, ‘It depends.’
‘Do you like getting cared for?’
Max snorted at this question. Doesn’t everyone? What sort of-
Then the questions started getting less harmless.
“Have you had any changes in sleep? Nightmares? Night terrors?”
Her jaw tightened. “…Yeah. Sometimes.”
“Any recent bedwetting or accidents?”
Max felt herself go red. “No.”
The woman didn’t react, just wrote something down. Somehow, that made it worse.
“Do you ever feel younger than your age during stress? Wanting simpler choices, toys, comfort items, or help with daily tasks?”
Max shifted in the chair. The room suddenly felt too small, her chest tight, these insipid questions! So stupid. “I don’t know...”
The next cluster of questions landed harder:
“Do you feel safer when someone else is in charge?”
“Do rules comfort you, or make you anxious?”
“Do you have a strong urge to protect others?”
Then, more quietly:
“Any history of trauma or significant loss in the past year?”
The mall flashed behind her eyelids. Sirens. Blood. Billy.
Max swallowed. “Yeah.”
The clinician’s pen hovered for a second.
“When you’re overwhelmed,” she asked, voice soft now, “do you ever feel… smaller? Fuzzier? Like the world gets too big?”
Max stared at the wall. She hated how the question sat in the room, like it already knew the answer. Like it was waiting for her to say it out loud.
She crossed her arms and slouched back in the chair. Dr. Tori was getting annoying.
“Can we just finish this? I just don't see why there should be so many questions if you’re already taking my blood.” Her tone was snappy.
The doctor nodded, clicking her tongue together, “I have everything I need to know anyway. I just need you to wait outside with your mom as I go through the paperwork. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”
“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Max mumbled, getting up, leaving as she shut the door behind her.
Max walked outside to the waiting room, her mothers face attentive as she saw her daughter walk over, the warm smile pulling up her mom’s lips as she sat next to her.
“The questions are stupid.” She whispered to her mother, her mom sighed, placing a comforting hand on Max’s bouncing leg.
“Can we please get Max and Susan Mayfield back into the room Dr. Victoria?” the nurse called, voice carrying easily over the low buzz of the waiting room.
Max and her mom stood at the same time.
The chair squeaked against the tile as Max pushed it back, and she caught the front-desk lady staring again. Not rude, not curious, something else. A look like the lady already knew something Max didn’t. Like there was news coming, sealed in an envelope she wasn’t allowed to open yet.
Max swallowed, throat clicking.
The walk back to the room felt longer this time. The hallway seemed quieter, like even the lights were humming softer. Her mom’s hand hovered awkwardly at the small of Max’s back, not quite touching, like she was afraid to push or guide or maybe afraid to find out she needed to.
Dr. Victoria was already seated when they came in, glasses folded neatly beside the chart.
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
“Thank you both for waiting,” the doctor said gently. “Go ahead and have a seat.”
Max did, the paper on the exam table crinkling loudly in the silence. Her mom crossed her arms tightly. There was a pause, Max spotted a gift Box, bright pink, wrapped with ribbon that had baby elephants on them.
Fuck.
Max’s throat closed up. This had to be a joke.
“I’d like to go over some of the responses from today,” Dr. Victoria continued, voice careful. “Some of Max’s answers suggest certain… patterns. Nothing bad,” she added quickly, looking at Max first, “Just important to understand what she is.
What did she mean by, what she is?
Dr. Victoria slid a paper across the desk toward Max. The seal at the top was heavy-looking and official, black ink pressed too sharply into the page.
Max’s eyes skimmed straight to the bolded line near the bottom.
…registered: FEMALE, FOURTEEN YEARS OLD, CLASSIFICATION: LITTLE (AGES 0–3). HIGHLY SENSITIVE.
The words blurred for a second.
She blinked hard.
Then the paper slapped back onto the desk so fast it made her mom jump.
“This is wrong.” Her voice cracked around the edges. “This isn’t right! You must’ve mixed it up or- or swapped my blood or something because I’m not taking this answer. Mom, this is inaccurate!”
Her chest hurt. Heat rushed up her neck into her face. The stupid pastel gift box on the chair beside the doctor, decorated in soft animals and balloons, might as well have been pointing and laughing at her, what a fucking screw up for what she is.
Her mom reached toward her automatically. “Max—”
“No, mom, this is such bullshit!” Max snapped, louder than she meant to, breathing too fast now. The nurse near the wall straightened instinctively, watching, not unkindly.
Dr. Victoria didn’t look angry. If anything, she looked sad.
“Max,” the nurse said gently, palms out, “Littles aren’t weak. It doesn’t mean you’re less mature or less capable. It’s just…”
“I’m not a little!” Max shot back, voice shaking. Tears burned at her eyes and finally spilled over, traitorous and hot. “Take my blood again. Ask me the questions again. Fix your stupid system, because I’m not,” her voice broke, “—I’m not that.” Her voice wavered, breaking into sobs. Fuck she hated this, her paper was growing wet from the tears dropping, she wanted to tear the shit in front of her.
That was the worst part.
Her face wasn’t shocked, or mad at Max for yelling… it was…tight. Tight around the mouth, tight between the eyebrows. The kind of look she got when bills came in the mail or when Neil slammed a door too hard downstairs.
Not worried about her reaction.
Worried about how he was going to take this.
Max’s chest burned. Her eyes stung, tears coming too hot and too fast to blink back anymore. She hated that she couldn’t stop them. Hated that they made everything glossier, blurrier.
“Mom…?” It squeezed out of her in a voice that didn’t sound like hers at all… small and squeaky and pathetic. Her throat felt like it was burning, like there wasn’t enough room in it for breathing and words at the same time.
Her mom didn’t look at her right away.
She had that face on. The thinking one. The one where she was already somewhere else in her head, already calculating, already scared of the next argument before it even happened.
Max’s stomach twisted.
Susan finally cleared her throat. “Max, honey… can you step out for a bit and wait outside? Maybe to calm down? And for me to speak with Dr. Victoria.”
Just like that. Like she was being dismissed. Like she was a problem to be discussed privately.
Something in Max snapped.
The chair screeched against the tile as she shoved it back, the legs bumping the desk hard enough to rattle something metal. She didn’t apologize. Didn’t even look at anyone. “Whatever, I don’t wanna listen to anymore of your crap.” Mumbled Max.
She just stormed to the door and slammed it behind her, the sound echoing down the hallway.
Out in the fluorescent-lit waiting area again, everything felt too loud and too bright. Her hands were shaking, and she pressed them into her hoodie pockets to hide it, jaw clenched until it hurt.
She didn’t know what she felt at first.
Scared. Mad. Humiliated. All of it layered, heavy, like someone had stacked bricks on her chest.
Little.
The word wouldn’t stop repeating in her head. It wasn’t like littles were bad… Will was a little, and he was one of the strongest people she knew but… he could handle it, he was brave, she… wasn’t. She was a baby.
This stupid label, the label she didn’t ask for. A burden she didn’t want. A future she hadn’t agreed to. She swallowed hard, throat raw, and stared at the floor.
For the first time, she wasn’t sure if she was more afraid of the paper in that room…
…or of what waited at home when Neil found out.
FUCK!
Minute’s felt like hours as Max was covering her face with her hands, everything was so bright and colorful and stupid. She just wanted to leave Hawkins and never step foot anywhere ever again.
Stupid, stupid, STUPID.
“Max? Honey? You can come in now.” Dr. Victoria spoke, her tone free of malice.
Max huffed, her chest tight before stomping in, a little angry.
“Before I say anything about me and your mother's conversation, I just wanted to continue talking about the safety precautions of being a little.”
“This is bull.” Max sniffled, sounding way younger than she intended, still standing, as if it were an act of defiance, her arms crossed, looking at the floor.
“I’m gonna need you to sit down,”
“No, I think standing is perfectly fine.” Max replied passively.
The doctor sighed.
“Okay honey. The pill I gave to you earlier? Helps the mind slip into their intended headspace, and for you, that would mean your babyspace.” Max tried to tune her out, ignoring whatever the doctor had to say, angry.
“Your first regression is usually always involuntary.” The doctor continued, “It can happen in between the next twenty-four hours.” Max heard that more clearly. Her heart plummeted, she had a birthday thing to get to! Of course this had to happen.
Whatever rest the doctor said, Max zoned out, something about schedule changes with school, monthly checkups, whatever shit she was saying. Max had a feeling Dr.Victoria could tell that the teen wasn’t paying attention, so she started moving her conversation with Max, more so over to her mother, even handing her some type of flip book for new coming littles, but then, Max’s head snapped back into conversation when Dr.Victoria mentioned ‘Suppressants.’
Yeah.
That word cut through the fog just fine.
Her head lifted, eyes narrowing a little on instinct. Dr. Victoria was already reaching toward one of the locked cabinets on the wall, keys chiming softly as she turned them. Plastic rattled. Papers shifted. Everything sounded too loud.
A small white bottle was set on the counter.
Max just stared.
“These are prescribed by me,” the doctor said, voice calm, practiced. “Your mother mentioned you might need some. They’re for cases where regression begins suddenly in situations that aren’t safe or practical. School, crowded spaces, testing environments.”
Her mother. Of course.
Max didn’t look at her mom, but she didn’t need to. She could feel the silence beside her, tight, careful…
“They will not stop regression permanently,” Dr. Victoria went on. “They just slow the onset so you can get to a safe place first. You only take them after your first regression, not before.”
“You may still have some motor skill issues when unconscious, even on the suppressants. For example, taking this pill doesn't prevent you from wetting the bed.”
Max’s brows knit, just a little, her face still hot hearing those words. The first regression is always involuntary. Twenty-four hours. Not even in control of her own motor skills. Birthday.
Great.
The doctor continued gently, like walking across thin ice.
“Your mother also told us you’ve been having stress episodes at home, and she was worried about that happening during school. Long periods of staring, shaking, going quiet, and she worries that those might tip into a bad involuntary regression episode. She said it would mess with your high academic records.”
There it was again.
Max blinked slowly.
School stress.
Tests.
Hah! High Academic records?
Yeah, right.
That wasn’t what made her freeze up. That wasn’t why she went quiet. But her mom had said it anyway… A neatly packaged, easy-to-understand, easy-to-file..
Her mom fuckin’ lied!
Maybe her mother was smarter than she thought.
Max didn’t call her out. Didn’t move. Just kept her eyes fixed on the little bottle.
Dr. Victoria softened her tone even more. “You need to be careful with these. You are to be mindful, on the bottle it says you have to let yourself have a period of rest, which means regression, before taking these again, or certain reactions can happen, we do not want that.”
Max looked over at her mother, her mom’s expression blank, then back at the doctor, then at the gift box.
“Okay, yeah, alright.” She whispered, face still hot from previous tears.
“All we need now is just… signatures from your mom saying you’ll stay in her primary care as a registered little, some more paperwork, and you two are good to go…” Her mother nodded, Max still stood, “And Max?” Her stayed glued to the ground.
“You’re going to be just fine.” The doctor said, grabbing the untouched gift box on the side and slowly sliding it over to max.
‘Easy for you to say.’ Rung through Max’s mind, her dried up tears hurting the skin on her face as she scrunched her nose.
Driving back was the same putrid of music, except Max now had a stupid baby box in her hand that she hadn’t opened yet, and the white suppressant pill bottle in the other.
Fuck, she had to say something- She… she was just wondering why her mom lied for her, but then it clicked to her,
It was for Neil’s sake.
“So are we going to talk about it mom?” Max snapped her head over to look at her mother, her gaze heavy with interrogation. Her mom didn’t return the look, but she did clear her throat.
“Max. Honey, as I said earlier, I love you, but I know what Neil’s thoughts are when it comes to littles and well…“
“And I’m guessing you said that for what? His sake? So he doesn’t blow a fuse and rip out his hair or some shit?” Max leaned back, her back hitting the seat a bit dramatically as tears pooled back in her eyes, piercing her lips, this was so, so stupid. “God mom you always do this…” Max’s voice wobbled slightly, but she controlled it.
“Maxine I-“
“It’s fine mom. I get it, he’s the man of the house, he’s not doing so well! Or here’s one I’m constantly hearing from you, he just lost Billy, so another loss like this would just drive him over the walls!” She barked, her mother sighed,
Max knew that her mom knew Max was right.
“You’re still my top priority, Maxie baby, always will be.” Max begged to differ but let her mom continue, "Whenever you drop today, just come to me, we can handle it together.” Max shrugged it off,
“I’m going to my friend's house. They’re picking me up for my birthday.”
“But Max, honey, your classification…”
There it was again. The word made her jaw clench.
Max groaned, scrubbing a hand over her face. She didn’t feel like doing this anymore. Not in this car. Not with that envelope still sitting there like it knew something about her, she didn’t.
“Listen,” she muttered, forcing the words out, “She said twenty-four hours. And I barely feel anything yet.” Which was true. No fuzzy edges. No slipping. Just… noise in her head and a knot in her throat.
“If anything happens, I’ll just call you. Okay?”
Her mom's mouth pressed into that thin line Max hated… worry and something else she couldn’t read. For a second, it looked like she might argue again, but instead, her mom just nodded. The rest of the car ride was silent.
Max stormed into her room and shoved the suppressants in her pocket, and then threw the gift box onto the floor. It burst open on impact, stupid piece of tiny little confetti-paper fluttering out like it was all some kind of joke. A pastel pacifier rolled under her desk, and more pamphlets scattered everywhere.
Max stared at the mess, her throat burned, a small sob escaped her lips, and just like that, she was crying again.
Of course they’d already planned for it. Already boxed her up into something little. Already decided who she was going to be.
But now she had other plans, she wasn’t risking acting like a big baby during her own party. No way in hell. They didn’t get to see her like that.
Her hands drifted to the bottle in her pockets.
Suppressants.
She hesitated. Thought twice… Thought about side effects. Thought about the doctor’s voice, about “first regressions” and “involuntary” and “within twenty-four hours.”
Thought about everyone staring at her if it happened in front of them.
Thought about Steve’s house. About cake. About candles.
About losing control… there were worse consequences.
Her jaw set, just like her decision.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she twisted the cap open with shaking fingers, tapped two pills into her palm, and swallowed them dry.
They scraped her throat on the way down.
Max wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, angry tears blurring everything.
“There,” she muttered to no one, voice slightly steady. “Problem solved.”
She was soooo utterly screwed.