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Max has never felt so alive.
She'd never been one for parties or live shows, but being here, music blasting, in a crowd of people with Amanda by her side is pure ecstasy.
The slower songs have them glued to each other's side, a soft embrace and quick, stolen kisses as they sway in time to the rhythm. During the louder, more upbeat songs, her mind flashes back to their ‘practice run’ at the turtle, and they dance twice as hard - Max all clumsy limbs, Amanda a powerhouse of energy. Max was wrong; she doesn't immediately get a black eye, but their smiles are just as wide, their joy threatening to spill from their chests.
The song ends and the crowd cheers before the lights shift to red and a deep, docile bassline kicks in. A chorus of screams sound from the surrounding people. The previously pleasant vibration from the drumbeat, working its way through her feet and into her chest, stutters violently.
Or is that her heartbeat?
The bodies around her pulse, and when she can't hold back the shaking breath that escapes her chest, she knows she has to leave. The only warning she manages to give Amanda before she bolts is a stare she doesn't realise is wide eyed, and the vague shape of the words “I'll be right back” on her lips.
-
Fuck, fuck, fuck…
The incidental scratch of someone's nail against her neck as she claws her way out of the crowd turns to a needle-prick in her skin, the flash of lights alternating between red and white disorientating her, blending the past and present together. With each strained blink, she’s transported between locations.
Here.
The vortex club party.
Now.
The dark room.
Every time the kick drum beats, she hears gunshots in their place, the deep thud of her heart beating alongside it.
It feels like time is slowing down, yet somehow moving all too fast.
Bang,
Chloe, bleeding out on the bathroom floor.
Bang,
A shot through the head.
Bang, bang, bang,
Chloe, Frank, Jefferson, all dead on the ground.
Bang,
Safi, at her own hands.
Bang-
The sweat sticking to her skin turns to grime, dirt thick under her nails, as she digs and digs. The screams of excitement around her stand no chance of drowning out the strangled one she hears in her head.
She resists the urge to reach out and force time to suit her.
Somewhere, in the deafening static sound of her mind, she forms one coherent thought: That’s what got me here in the first place.
The cool night air as she breaks out onto the balcony is little solace. She’s too strung out; too in her own head. She tries to claw her way out of there, too - pacing the space, hands shaking by her side. The flashing lights and the pulse of the music have long stopped, replaced by the overlap of chatter as setup for the next act takes place, but none of her efforts pull her back.
“There you are.” There's a hesitant brush of her wrist alongside the gentle voice, but it's the wrong choice to make. Max snatches her arm to her chest, cradling it with the other, each breath heavier than the last.
When she finally looks up, she finds Amanda staring at her like a deer caught in headlights, dragging her back to reality.
“Oh. Amanda, sorry…I-” Whatever excuse she has dies on her tongue, replaced by a shuddering sigh. She’d promised to be more open with Amanda, yet here she was, hiding from her. Again.
The way she looks at her is shattering. Max closes her eyes and bites down the sob that threatens to escape her, a familiar ache returning to her chest.
I've ruined everything.
She half expects her to turn and leave; but, instead of the retreating sound of footsteps, she hears her name instead.
“Max.”
It's so quiet, she thinks she’s imagined it.
“Open your eyes. Please.”
Her vision is blurry when she does. She manages to make out the other woman's form, motioning at security before turning back towards her, guiding her slowly to a seat.
Amanda doesn't speak until a cup of water has been placed in Max’s hand and she’s taken a few tentative sips, her throat ragged and dry.
The silence feels both like torture and hope.
Amanda’s still here.
The next gulp of water hurts a little less.
"Do you want to tell me what happened back there?" Amanda brushes a sweat-soaked strand of hair off of Max's face, who holds back a whimper. She's already caused enough of a scene without bursting into tears on top of it. "I won't make you talk about it, if you're not ready to. But you're clearly not okay. I want to help, if I can."
"I...I do...it's just..." Max looks around, eyes twitching nervously between the other people occupying the seating area. None of them are paying them any mind, but still. She twirls a finger in a backwards, spiralling motion. "...complicated. You know?" She looks back to Amanda for a moment before shrinking in on herself. Her voice is barely a whisper. "It's just hard to talk about. Or think about. I used to be better at this. At being okay."
"Max..." Amanda inches closer, ducking her head to catch her eye. "I know you've had to push through things before. I saw you, during the storm. I've seen you be so calm and so strong during shit I still have trouble wrapping my head around. But you don't always have to be. You're allowed to be vulnerable, sometimes. I don't know exactly what this is about, but have you brought this up, in therapy?"
"There's just some things I can't really tell them. And I know how that sounds, but..."
"...but it's complicated." Amanda eyes her cautiously. "Is it okay to hold you? I don't know if that will make it worse, but you look like you're barely holding yourself up."
This time, Max can't contain the hint of a sob in her voice. "Yes. Please."
Amanda shifts over to wrap an arm around her, cradling her head against her shoulder. "You didn't have to make yourself come to this, you know." She pauses to place a quick kiss on her head. "Even without the details, I would have understood. I'd be happy to spend time with you anywhere."
Max nudges her head further into the crook of her neck and sighs. The sound is steadier now, Amanda notices. "I know. Honestly, I didn't even think about it. I was just excited to go to something you enjoy, and I was having a good time…before...” She hums when Amanda’s fingers run along her scalp, her touch light, comforting. “I think I was just caught off guard. I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about. Just promise me you'll remember that I'm here for you, okay? I'll be here, whenever you're ready.” Her hand travels down, intertwining their fingers one at a time with tender purpose. “What do you say we get out of here?”
Max jolts upright at the suggestion. “Oh, no, we don't have to. There's still another act, right? I feel like I've ruined the night enough without making you leave before it's over.”
Amanda laughs - not cruel, but light, partially in disbelief.
“First of all, you didn't ‘ruin’ anything. Secondly-” She’s careful as she places another kiss, this time to Max’s cheek, whose eyelids flutter at the motion. Every small movement Amanda makes is slow and deliberate. “-I care way more about you than I do about whoever's playing next. You look exhausted.”
Max leans forward, capturing her lips with her own before they can stray too far, kissing Amanda in a silent ‘thank you.’
It doesn't last for more than a few seconds, but it's calm and intentional, each movement a whisper that she hopes communicates everything she wants to say.
They share a breathy sigh once she finally pulls away. “Alright. If you're sure.”
Later that night, in the soft glow of the fairy lights that scatter her bedroom wall, Max spills her heart and soul out in a way she hasn't done since the night she dragged Safi back from the lake. They fall asleep, limbs entangled and bodies pressed together in a perfect puzzle piece, as Max listens to the soothing thrum of Amanda's heartbeat.
It's the best night's sleep she's had in years.