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“Mooncourt Mall will be closing in thirty minutes!” A robotic voice trills over the loudspeaker.
Max shudders. Even though she should have gotten used to this place by now, it still makes her feel sick to her stomach every time she hears its name. It’s like a mockery of Starcourt, and even though Max is able to laugh most things off, she can’t even fake a smile when that old place gets brought up in conversation.
She’s been going to weekly sessions with a counsellor lady for the past few months. Honestly, it kind of sucks. The lady wears pastel cardigans and beaded bracelets and is far too chatty, always pushing on through the session undeterred by Max’s sullen silence, trying to bring up all the things which Max would rather forget. She only started going at Steve’s insistence that she ‘at least try it’. And she hasn’t quit yet, just because doesn’t feel like changing a part of her routine. Plus, pretending that the counselling sessions are helping means that Steve will reward her with a relieved smile or a squeeze of the shoulder.
His opinion matters to her, and she kind of hates the extent that she cares about it. Ever since her Mom got in a bit of trouble with the cops for drunk driving, and it became a part of Hawkins gossip, Steve has been making more of an effort to look out for her. Weirdly though, it actually feels kind of nice to know that someone outside the party actually gives a shit about her. Max would call him the brother she never had, if it weren’t for the fact that memories of Billy haven’t yet faded enough for the title of ‘brother’ to seem like a good one.
The council decided to rebuild the mall a couple of months ago. And you’d like to think that the mysterious manner in which the last one exploded would be enough to deter people from coming to the ‘new and improved’ version. Sadly, you’d be wrong. In fact, the new one has become even more popular.
Max supposes that she should try to feel at least a little glad about that. After all, Mooncoart Mall is the only reason she has a job. And, yeah, slinging ice cream all day can feel mind numbingly dull, but it’s something to do all day and it pays the bills. Max has never been all that good at being grateful, though, and she can’t help feeling resentful over how if Vecna had never put her in a stupid coma then she’d probably be doing something much more exciting by now, like going to college, or starting a new, cool job somewhere far away from Hawkins.
Max knows why she’s staying here for now, but she has no idea why Mike chose Scoops Ahoy over a new start somewhere else. It’s not as if he likes living in Hawkins.
The times when Max tries her hardest to mull over potential reasons and figure out why Mike hasn’t left yet, is when they’re behind the booth at scoops ahoy, during a quiet day, and Mike pulls a letter out of one of the tacky pockets in his shorts.
Lucas, Will, El and Dustin send letters pretty regularly, and yet Will’s letters are the only ones which Mike ever rereads. Max should probably call him out on it, pester him until he tells her why, but the one time when she so much as tried to tease him about it, then he clammed up instantly, scowling, shoving it back in his pocket, and stubbornly refusing to speak to her for the rest of the day. Which is weird, since he doesn’t usually care when she teases him (usually about his lack of a girlfriend and his ridiculous sailor hat) but she’d clearly hit a nerve by mentioning Will’s letter. So, these days, Max just tends to leave him be when he’s rereading Will’s messy scrawl.
Maybe once or twice, she’s considered how Mike and Will’s friendship is an oddly close one. But then she remembers that Mike is literally one of the straightest people who she’s ever met - the summer when they were thirteen, when he was constantly running off to make out with El, proved that beyond a doubt. Also, assuming that there’s anything going on between them feels sort of insulting to Will; He had to muster up so much courage to come out, that she feels kind of bad to just assume that he would be pining away over his straight best friend, especially when there are probably a lot of opportunities at college for him to meet new guys and move on from Mike (if Will even liked him in the first place, that is).
Besides, she’s not had a conversation with Will face to face in a while. It’s Mike who has been acting inexplicably weird for unknown reasons.
Like, how he’s acting weird right now. Usually, he’ll ramble or gripe about just about everything under the sun, but right now he’s staying unnervingly quiet.
The silence is broken through, as Max pours some disinfectant onto a tissue before holding it against Mike’s arm. She never imagined that she’d have offered to patch up Mike Wheeler, much less that he’d actually let her help him. In any scenario where he’d be hurt, she kind of figured that someone else in the party, one of his closer friends, would be the one to offer help first.
Yet, here they are, on the gross bathroom floor of Mooncourt Mall. Max walked in here because she heard someone crying, but he was the absolute last person she expected to see.
Mike’s head had snapped in her direction when he heard her footsteps getting closer, and he’d just stared at her for a few seconds in stunned silence.
Part of her had wanted to just walk away, because yeah, they work together and have been through a lot of shit together over the years due to all the supernatural horrors that haunt Hawkins, but Max is pretty shitty at comforting people. Plus, Mike does not seem like the type of person who likes being comforted.
But something about him just stopped her from walking out. His cheeks were red from crying. Plus, she didn’t miss the small tear that slipped out, even though he hastily tried to scrub away with his hands. He was slumped against the bathroom wall, knees
drawn up to his chest, arms folded tightly around himself, and he was gripping his shirt sleeves so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. Not to mention the way that he was trying to pretend that she wasn’t there by instead concentrating his stare on the tile floor.
It was kind of pathetic to say the least. Max had never related to him more.
How many times has she been sobbing her eyes out, with no one else around to offer reassurance or kindness? And look, maybe Max may not be the best at this stuff, but she figures that it’s probably better for Mike to have someone around rather than to just be totally alone. It’s not like he’s got any other options for friends, not when Dustin, Lucas, Will and El are all off at college.
Mike hasn’t even explained to her about how he got hurt. Sure, he’s clumsy, but she highly doubts that he’s become clumsy enough to have accidentally gotten three scrapes on each arm. The cuts aren’t deep enough to need stitches, but there’s a lot of blood. Max tries to be as gentle as possible as she holds his arm still and dabs at the blood with another damp tissue.
“Stay still, Wheeler.” Max instructs, as Mike winces and instinctively shifts away from her touch. Max is kind of tempted to grab onto his sleeve and haul him back, but if she moves forwards to do so, then Mike is almost certainly going to back out of her reach. And then that will lead to them bickering with each other. And then Mike will probably storm off, even if he’s still bleeding out, because he’s a self-destructive idiot.
Mike scrunches up his nose in annoyance, but luckily he just lets out a huff of breath before shifting back to how he was before, so that he’s close enough again for her to dab at his cut.
“I can’t believe you’d rather just let it get infected than let me help you.” Max admonishes. She isn’t really telling him off, but she likes the familiarity that comes with pretending to. She needs that reassurance right now. Sure, he’ll probably be fine, but when she first walked into the bathroom and saw him sitting there - with his eyes closed, head resting against the wall, uncaring of how he was bleeding - it sent a lot of things flooding back. And, well…. it scared her. Nightmares are a regular occurrence, but seeing someone else so clearly injured is a whole different level to just reliving memories of it through dreams.
“I don’t need your help.” Mike mutters, under his breath.
He probably assumes that she’ll ignore that little comment. She usually does, since most of the time he’s just being whiny for totally unrelated reasons. If being bitchy about things can be called a coping mechanism, then that’s definitely Mike’s coping mechanism.
Yet for some reason, tonight, his comment really irks her, in a way that she doesn’t feel like just brushing off.
“Oh, really?” She snaps, shooting him a look, “Is it because it’s me in particular, or just the fact that you’re rubbish about asking for help?”
Mike looks stunned, as if Max has just revealed that she has incredible intuition skills, when really she’s just shown a basic grasp at common sense.
Mike has made it clear from the start that he didn’t want her in their party. Sure, their friendship has been present and inconsistent ever since then -it reached its peak right after she woke up from the coma and he was just glad to see her again, but has since defended into some fiery arguments and stony silences- but Mike isn’t exactly hard to read, and Max knows that she annoys him a lot of the time.
And the second part of what she said, is just as true as the first. Mike is bad at asking for help. Fuck, he’s could be on his literal deathbed and he’d probably still have a difficult time admitting to someone that he might be hurting a bit.
“I’m not rubbish at asking for help.” Mike mumbles, somehow managing to be snide and defensive all at once. He chews on his lip, digging on his teeth anxiously, in a manner that’s probably going to result in it bleeding soon if he keeps on at it.
“So it’s the first part, then? Because it’s me?” Max challenges, trying not to sound hurt from how his reply has kind of confirmed her fears about this. “I mean, I know that you seem to hate me sometimes, but you don’t have to be such a dick about it.”
“I’m not-“ Mike starts to retort, before cutting himself off as he seems to realise something. A weary sigh parts from his lips, and he rubs a hand down his face, before glancing up again to meet her eyes. “I don’t hate you, Max. I don’t. Okay?”
“Well, you had me fooled.” Max replies. She doesn’t know whether she’s frustrated or upset. Probably both. “I mean, you’ve barely spoken to me all week. And because you’re so shitty at communicating with people, I don’t even know what I’ve done wrong!”
“Nothing.” Mike bites out. “For fucks sake, I had a bad week, alright? You don’t have to make it all about you.”
Max flinches.
Mike freezes a few seconds after the words have slipped from his mouth. His dark brown eyes widen as he seems to realise how harsh they sound out loud.
The wipe, that Max had been using to dab at Mikes’ cuts with, slips from her grasp and falls to the floor.
All that she can hear the echo from the words whirling round her head “all about you. all about you. all about you.”
That’s what she’d said. In the last argument that she’d had with her Mom. Usually either Max is too busy, or her Mom is too drunk, for them to bother arguing. That’s probably because they both know that arguing with each other isn’t necessary going to change anything
“I don’t have any family left!” Her Mother had said, full of anger and sadness that was amplified by the half empty bottle she was still clutching.
“Can’t you see that, Max? They left me!” Her face had crumpled, a sharp sob seeping out, before she repeated the words more quietly, “They left me. And now… and now I’m all alone.”
The words had felt like a slap in the face. Max is her daughter; the only family member who’s stuck around even when it gets miserable like this. And her Mother doesn’t even care because she’s so busy reminiscing about the family life that she’d idealised in her head; the one with Neil as her husband, and Billy as the son who didn’t argue back, and Max as the daughter who smiled as much as she was supposed to.
Max hasn’t left yet, because she didn’t know how her Mom would cope without her. And now she’s hit by how incredibly clear it is that her Mom doesn’t even care.
Fine. That’s fine. Max doesn’t have to care, either.
So Max had fixed an apathetic expression onto her face and stiffly said, “It isn’t always about you.”
And it didn’t even matter because her Mom was sobbing uncontrollably, clinging to the beer bottle for comfort, and probably didn’t even register her words anyway. At least, that’s what Max has tried to tell herself whenever the guilt starts to weigh down on her too heavily.
“Max?” There’s a soft voice which is filled with genuine concern, drawing her back to reality. “Are you alright?”
Max comes crashing back to earth with a thud that sends her reeling. Suddenly, her chest is heaving, as air courses in and out of her lungs far too quickly for her to actually feel it. She opens her eyes, but immediately shuts them again because she’s hit with a wave of nausea, because of how the bathroom is spinning and it’s all too blurry for her to make out.
“Okay, okay.” Mikes says, stumbling over his words and sounding way more worried than she’s used to hearing, “Okay, you just need to breathe for me. Can you do that, Max? Just breathe, in and out.”
As it turns out, Max cannot breathe in and out, even when instructed to do so. Instead, she gives a sharp laugh that sounds half hysterical even to her own ears. Then, she goes back to choking on oxygen again.
“Here,” Mike says, suddenly reaching out and taking her hand. He gently guides it towards him, placing it over his shirt, near the centre of his chest but a little to the left. Then, he releases his light grip on her wrist
Max presses her palm flat against it, and her breath catches in her throat as she feels something thud against her hand. In reality, it’s probably a small movement, but in the moment, it’s enough to startle her put of her panic. Before she even fully realises that she’s doing it, she’s slowing her breathing to match the rhythm of Mike’s heartbeat.
When Max fully comes to her senses, she can’t help feeling a bit ashamed of how weirdly sentimental the situation is. So, reluctantly, she pulls her hand away. Then, she ducks her head so that her hair comes loose to hopefully hide her red cheeks at least a little bit.
“Sorry.” She mutters abruptly, feeling embarrassed both from how bad she’d broken down in front of him because of her panic, and by how effectively he managed to use himself to reassure her and calm her down.
“It’s alright.” Mike replies, voice stuck halfway between the soft one he’d had on a few minutes ago and the gruff one that he usually uses when he’s around her.
“Thanks.” Max adds, hastily.
“Sure.” Mike replies, shrugging his shoulders, a little uncomfortably. “Glad that I could help a little.”
It’s strange; how they can be vulnerable and honest with each other one minute, and then the next, then it feels near impossible to wade through the awkwardness of a simple conversation.
Max can’t help it; she laughs. Tilts her head back and laughs, allowing a proper grin to slip onto her face for the first time in a while.
“What?” Mike asks, but the corners of his eyes are crinkling, and soon enough his shoulders are a little less stiff, and he’s laughing along with her.
Eventually, their laughter fades to chuckling. Max’s mouth muscles hurt from being stretched into a grin for so long. It’s worth it, though, because weirdly enough, she feels a strange sort of solidarity with Wheeler now. Even if it just comes from the shared hatred of being perceived and an inability to act as normal as everyone else.
“We’re so fucking bad at dealing with things.” Max says, for no real reason other than the fact that she can’t seem to get the thought out of her head.
“We really are.” Mike replies, nodding in agreement.
When Max had walked in, Mike was all sharp edges and bitterness. Now, though, his dark brown eyes look lighter, like sunlight reflecting off of a tree bark. There’s a soft grin on his lips, and he doesn’t hold himself rigidly anymore. It’s like he’s finally realised that no one’s about to try and hurt him. It’s just Max, and they’re sort of friends, in their own weird way.
For a few minutes neither of them say anything. It’s not too bad, since the silence is kind of comfortable now, rather than just being awkward.
Then, Max decides to push her luck.
“Can you tell me what’s bothering you?” She blurts out.
Mike’s face falls almost immediately and his posture senses. Max can already sense him already rebuilding invisible walls between them, in a misguided attempt to protect himself by keeping her out.
“It’s fine. You don’t have to.” She adds hastily, now regretting asking about it. Especially since she isn’t yet sure just how fragile or sturdy their latest truce is. “Never mind.”
Mike eyes her thoughtfully.
“No, it’s alright.” He replies, slowly. He hesitates for a few seconds longer, before finally making up his mind. “I’ll tell you.”
“Cool.” Max says, trying not to sound too eager. In reality, she really is interested now. After all, it’s a very rare occurrence for Mike to open up to anyone, so in an odd way, she feels sort of honoured that he’s choosing to talk to her about whatever’s on his mind.
“Wait.” Mike stops himself, and Max barely manages to resist rolling her eyes. “There are two things. I’ll tell you both of them, but I’m not really sure which one to explain first.”
“Well, I can’t decide for you when I don’t know what either of them are.” Max tells him. Honestly, she should be awarded a medal for her patience by now.
“My parents are getting a divorce.”
“Oh, um…” Max isn’t sure whether she’s supposed to cheer or act disappointed. She debates between the two reactions, before settling on tilting her head to the side a little instead as she studies Mike’s face intently and tries to figure out how he feels about it.
“How do you feel about it?”
“It’s whatever. I don’t care.”
Max snorts, and Mike shoots her an annoyed look.
“Sorry,” she apologises, quickly, “I wasn’t laughing at you personally. Shitty lies just ten to amuse me.”
“Fine,” Mike mutters, reluctantly, “I guess I kind of care a little bit.”
“That makes sense.” Max muses. “I know I felt kind of fucked up after Neil left, even though he was a total asshole, the house just felt odd without him and Billy around. It’s like… I didn’t miss them exactly, but I guess I’d gotten used to them being around. And then there was all the guilt that I felt as well. So yeah. This is just a way of saying that I get it. Feelings are weird.”
“I just wish…” Mike shrugs, hugging his knees and staring at the floor, “It would have just been nice if they could have done it years ago. Or maybe if they’d never gotten together in the first place. But then if they hadn’t gotten together then they wouldn’t have had Nancy or Holly.”
Max notices that he doesn’t include himself in that, but she doesn’t point it out because she isn’t even sure if it was intentional or not. It’s something else that she relates to; the absentminded feeling of not wanting to kill yourself per se, but not really wanting to have to live either.
“My Mom is happier without him around, though. She’s got an interview for a new job next week, and she seems excited about it.”
“Well, that’s good then.”
“Yeah.”
“And what was the other thing?”
“You’re going to think that I’m being weird.”
“Wheeler, trust me, I already think that.”
“Fine.” Mike huffs. “It’s about Will”
Of course it is. Max can’t say that she isn’t curious to hear what he has to say.
“When he first went away to college, I was really worried about us growing apart from each other. I mean, the Byers moving to California was a total disaster. It almost ruined our entire friendship.”
“Because you didn’t call him.” Max recalls.
The ghost of a smile flickers across Mike’s face, but something about him is a lot sadder than usual. Almost forlorn. Or maybe wistful? Max likes to think that she’s good at reading people, but right now, Mike is a total mystery to her.
“I did call him.” Mike contradicts, the words tumbling out of his mouth in a rush. It’s the polar opposite of how he’d usually correct her. Usually, he’d be indignant and loud about it. But right now, he rests his chin on his knees and stares at the floor, speaking quietly, as if he’s scared of being heard.
“But he said-“ Max starts.
“-I know.” Mike cuts in. “I let him believe that I didn’t call at all, when really, I just couldn’t get through to him because of Joyce’s telemarketer job. It really sucked. Especially since I had- I had so much to say to him. I mean, we’re close, we always have been. I just…” he trails off, frowning. “…I don’t know.”
“What’s the issue, then?” Max prompts.
“I guess I’ve just been feeling kind of weird about the thought of him replacing me. I mean, anyone can tell that he’s handsome, and not only that but his self-esteem is like way too low as well, so he’s probably going to end up dating some stupid guy. And that guy just won’t ever be able to understand him, not like I do. And what if this guy doesn’t treat him right?” Mike rambles, “I mean, obviously, I wouldn’t want to interfere, but Will deserves the whole world, and I would hate for him to settle for anything less. Fuck, he deserves the entire universe, especially after everything he’s been through, but mostly just because of what a lovely person he is.”
It’s unnervingly quiet after Mike finishes speaking.
He clears his throat, before letting out a self-deprecating laugh. “I guess you’re going to say that I sound pretty stupid about this, right?”
“Nope.” Max says, popping the ‘p’, “I’d say that it sounds like you want him to be in a relationship with you, instead.”
“But Will is a boy.” Mike states, a strange expression crossing his face.
“Mike.”
It takes a moment or so for the realisation to really hit him. Except it isn’t a realisation at all, not really, because he already knows. He’s tried to figure out his feelings before now, she can tell.
“Why did you bring this up?”
“I don’t know.” Mike mutters, leaning his head forwards so that his hair falls into his face and hides his eyes slightly.
Max patiently waits for a real answer.
“I guess I wanted you to prove me wrong. You’re good at doing that.”
Max snorts.
Mike chuckles, “I know, I know, maybe it was silly. I just- I figured that if you found out how I feel about him, then maybe you’d be able to make me stop.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because he’s too good for me.”
And that is what Max has always thought with El, that she was too good for Mike by far. It was so frustrating to watch them together, especially during the whole of that summer back when they were fourteen and Mike and El had just started dating.
Because El liked him, really liked him. That was obvious from the way she’d look at him, with a soft smile on her lips and an adoring look in her eyes. And Mike? He barely even noticed it. He didn’t really see El, at all. And Max would go home each day and just scream into her pillow. Because she wanted El to look at her like that. And all she could do was look at Mike and he’d glance at her sometimes, but not intently enough to really see her.
Yet something tells her that this would be different. Will brings out a different side to Mike, brings out the best in him. Somehow, Max can’t imagine a universe where Mike acts like a douchebag boyfriend towards Will.
“He’s not ‘too good’ for you.” Max finds herself saying, surprising both of them with her words.
Mike shoots her a disbelieving look.
“He’s not.” Max repeats, a little annoyed. “I’m sorry, but are you really doubting my judgment about this right now? I’d literally have to be blind again to miss the way you care about him. In fact, even then I’d probably still have to listen to that gentle voice that only seems to be activated when you’re around Will.”
“It was that obvious.”
“Maybe just to me. I doubt he’s realised.”
A relieved sigh slips out of Mike.
“What is your actual problem?” Max asks.
“I just-“ Mike breaks off, like he’s struggling to explain it, “I just want him to be loved. But I can’t help thinking about how difficult it’s going to be to watch him get a new boyfriend who doesn’t understand him like I do.”
“So you’re jealous of a person who’s hypothetical?”
“Maybe? It all just really hurts because I could be his boyfriend, except I know that I don’t deserve to love him because he deserves so much more than I’d ever be able to give.”
“Maybe it’s not about ‘deserving’.” Max says, thoughtfully. “Maybe you just need to stop imagining standards, and just ask him what he wants. Tell him that you like him, and see how he responds.”
Mike doesn’t say anything.
Max is close to assuming that he’s just ignoring her, when abruptly, she catches a soft whisper of, “I don’t just like him, Max, I love him.”
“I know.” She reaches out, and takes his hand, giving it a brief squeeze. “That’s okay, y’know. You’re allowed to love him. It’s not totally absurd to think that he might love you back.”
“But I don’t… I don’t think I should get a happy ending. Maybe that’s alright. Maybe I don’t deserve one anyway.” Mike hastily scrubs at a stray tear which has begun to trickle down his cheeks, “I mean, fuck, who would ever love someone as pathetic as me? Not only am I queer, I’m also practically unloveable.”
Max aches to comfort him. But she decides on tough love instead.
“Wheeler, do you think that I’m unloveable?”
Mike frowns. “No, of course not.”
“I’m like you, though.” Max admits, still feeling a little nervous even though he’s been the first one to let secrets slip. “Sort of. I’m bisexual. I can also… fall in love with more than one person. I don’t know what the word for it is, but that doesn’t really matter. I know who I’m in love with; Lucas and El.”
Mike’s eyebrows shoot up. “You like El?”
“Yup.” Max says, steeling herself for some dumb comment.
“That’s great!”
“It is?”
“Yeah! I mean, I care about her so much, so I want her to be happy. And if you guys are in love with each other, then that will mean that she finally gets the kind of love that she really wants, the kind that I couldn’t give her. Also, I trust you. I know that you’ll be good to her.”
“Hold your horses, I still need to ask her out!”
“And Lucas is okay with it?”
“Yeah, he’s the one who keeps pestering me to call her. I think he might have known for a while, actually. We had a long conversation about a week ago and he said that he’d be alright for me to be in a relationship with El as well as him. It was actually quite sweet. He said that what he wants the most is for me to be happy.”
“That’s awesome.” Mike says, and he sounds like he really does mean it. “Good luck.”
“Thanks.”
Suddenly, she glances down and remembers the reason why she’d decided to stay here in the first place. Mike’s arm seems to have stopped bleeding, which is a good sign.
Max still can’t figure out what could have accidentally injured him, though.
Then, the truth hits her.
“You hurt yourself.” Max realises.
“What?” Mike’s eyes widen and his cheeks flood red, with unmistakable shame. “No! Of course I don’t! I’d never be stupid enough to do something like that, I don’t know how you’d even get to that conclusion, but you’re wrong, okay? You’re wrong.”
“No, it’s okay.” Max says, quickly, cutting him off mid flow since his breathing has started to quicken its pace. “It’s alright, I swear.”
Mike lets out a long exhale, chest rising and falling now that he’s stopped rambling.
“I mean-“ She hesitates, before making up her mind about what to say. “I get it, alright?”
She picks up the hem on her sailor shirt in her fingers and pulls it up, just a little, in order to expose the red marks on her side.
Mike’s eyes widen, as his gaze flicks from her side and then back up to her face.
“I used to burn myself.” Max confesses in a whisper. “With a lighter. I just… I needed to get it out of my system somehow, y’know?”
Mike nods, seriously. “Yeah.”
Then, he frowns. “I wish it didn’t always hurt so much.”
“It doesn’t have to.” Max promises. She lets go of her shirt and reaches out to pick up Mike’s hand. She can’t help noticing that there’s dry blood under his nails. She makes a mental reminder to offer to paint them for him later - she saw him wear black nail polish once , but he’d clearly had no practice with nail polish before because it was a smudgy mess.
“You just need to find other distractions to replace it with.” Max says, softly.
“Yeah? Like what?”
Max considers for a moment. She likes investing her free time into skateboarding, but suggesting that Mike should pick that up as a hobby would probably just result in him earning more injuries.
“What about writing? You’re into all that D&D stuff, so why don’t you try making your own stories?”
“I’ve tried. I’m rubbish at it.”
“Well, how do you think people become good at it?”
Mike raises an eyebrow, like he genuinely doesn’t know. “Natural talent?”
“No, idiot. Practice!”
Instead of flat out arguing with her, Mike actually looks like he’s considering it. Max decides to take it as a win and move swiftly on to something else.
“You want to go and scoop some ice cream?”
Mike looks confused. “We’re off the clock. Scoops ahoy shut hours ago.”
“Yeah, well then it’s a good thing that we have a key, isn’t it?”
He still doesn’t seem to get it. Max rolls her eyes.
“Ice cream. We can bring lots of it over to my house, and then eat it whilst we either watch movies and talk shit about people, if you want.”
Mike’s eyes light up, and a soft, hesitant smile tugs at his lips. “So, does this mean… does this mean that you don’t hate me?”
“It means that we’re friends, therefore you’re stuck with me.” Max declares, already tugging at his sleeve, “C’mon, loser, we’ve got ice cream to eat.”