Chapter Text
The best part about having a nice mansion is that there is so much space for Max to pace around and mutter to himself. It was a quiet day for the rest of the evening. Thank God, because Max wasn’t sure if he could handle having to answer stupid questions from nobody interviewers. No mid-carders to bother him. Indulgence is what this is.
Max rubbed small circles to his temples, breathing in and out. It’s totally chill. Everything was going to be fine. He knows exactly how to spend this time. It would just take a minute. It always took a minute. Sometimes two.
It was like watching a teenager trying to set up a party while their parents were gone. Well, Max did do that before. But this was for himself. It was his way to give himself time and get excited but it’s been incredibly difficult lately. The TV was playing a marathon of cartoons. All the blankets and pillows he could possibly find to put in the living room. Including the stash of stuffies he has collected.The special stuffie that would sit with him would of course be his Lion, the only friend to stick with him. The mane was a bit flattened from the years, the seams a little frayed and restitched. He probably needed to be washed but then he wouldn’t smell right. Lion did not have a name, Max has always simply called him “Lion” or “The Lion”. As for his other stuffies, some of them were from collectables so they had names given to them already. Made it easier for him.
The best part about this time of day was no rules, no being told what to do. He could make, watch, do whatever he wanted. Max paused to turn the tv up for more noise, even for the boring commercials. He just wanted it to feel active. Lion was tucked under his arm as he paced to the kitchen and then paused. What could he make? He was feeling himself slipping by now and he didn’t wanna ruin the feeling by having to do something complex. It was already taking him more time to get this set up. He wanted to bask in it as much as he could for the night.
“Uhm…okay snack and then…”
He spoke aloud, trying his best to give himself his own orders. “Then cartoons, then nap. Wan’ a sammy…”
Max looked at Lion and held him up.
“Wha you mean sandwiches are bo’ing?” He huffed and then opened the fridge door. The idea of making a sandwich did sound…like too many moving parts. He really ought to make some prep food for these times. A bag of green grapes sat untouched at the bottom shelf, and they still looked pretty fresh. “Wha’ kind of lion eats grapes…oh you do?”
Ha! No need to make anything complex when he could just eat grapes- well, not the best but it was good enough. He wasn’t that hungry anyway.
Settling in the nest was alright, Max probably could have put more together but he was exhausted. The aches in his body were catching up to him and he didn’t want to waste anymore time.
Nothing.
Why nothing?
He usually feels good at this point, but he feels like something is wrong. The cartoons are wrong. The blankets and stuffies don’t feel quite right. The grape he just ate was too squishy and his face twisted in discomfort.
“It okay…” He whispered, squeezing his eyes close for a moment. His fingers rubbed over Lion’s already worn ear but the texture wasn’t really feeling good either.
“Only one cartoon…then nap.” He said aloud again, but it sounded wrong. Maybe he was just cranky. Yeah, he was just a cranky baby. That’s what an adult would say about a kid right? This must be why adults give out rules. For cranky babies. Yet despite the cartoon, which he usually enjoyed, he was starting to grow irritable instead. Everything was uncomfortable but he couldn’t tell specifically what and he wished someone could. Maybe music could solve this. Yeah, he liked music sometimes to do things. He pulled out his phone from his pocket and found his playlist.
Ugh. His head began to hurt too much. The music and cartoon were NOT a good combo. Max whined as he began to feel more discomfort and pressed his palm to his forehead. It was way too noisy now. Why did he think this was a good idea?
“It’s…It’s okay- lets jus’ turn it off” Max’s voice cracked, trying to sound older. It wasn’t very fair but he had to figure it out. How does one solve such an obnoxious problem?
The grip on Lion tightened as he patted around for the remote. He couldn’t feel it. He turned and the volume on the tv went up. Max flinched and more frantically began to move as he realized he was laying on the remote. Blankets tangled his legs and he fitfully tried to kick them off and grabbed the remote and went to turn the tv off.
It wasn’t reading the remote and Max whined a little louder trying to sit up and turn it off and finally it did. Max didn’t know why he was breathing so hard and he tossed the remote down, and kicked off the remaining blankets to stand from his pile. He was shaking too. It was noticeable as he tried to turn his phone off, just turning off all noise.
He glanced at his Lion and frowned.
“What?” He snapped and kicked him. Immediately he felt horrible. He made a small whimper as the stuffie skidded pitifully across the floor and flopped against the wall, appearing dejected. A small sniffle. Why was he crying? He’s not supposed to cry. Who was gonna scold him for being loud? For making a mess? For crying?
Max wobbled a moment before stepping over and picked up his Lion carefully and fixed his mane, wiping any floor dust or hair. “Msorry…” He mumbled and hugged the stuffie to his chest and walked to the couch and sat down, bringing his legs up criss cross applesauce style.
“...sorry for kickin’...don’t leave please” He mumbled and rubbed his arm to his cheek which was wet with tears he didn’t even realize were coming down. The Lion stared back at him but Max felt he was forgiven. Lion always forgave him.
“I don’ think I'm good at this.” Max said finally and leaned back against the couch frowning. “I don’ wanna.”
He wasn’t sure what he “didn’t want” to do. He didn’t have the words or even the thoughts to really rationalize; he simply wanted someone else to help him. Which is a stunning realization within itself, given how much Maxwell Jacob Friedman despises help. Who wants to deal with him anyway? They don’t like him as an adult, they couldn’t possibly like him like this as some snot-nosed brat.
The worst part about living in a big mansion at this time of day is that he was the only one there.
It was very clear to everyone at the back area that MJF was completely out of it. Sure he didn’t like talking to anyone unless it was business related but his arrogance has been awfully quiet. To many people backstage this was probably the biggest blessing and the same could even be said for Darby. Almost. If it wasn’t so fucking weird. Weird for him. Weird that he hasn’t even heard Max cut a promo at all in the last few weeks. In fact Max even seemed more high strung than usual. Distancing himself, barely taking interviews or moments to discuss his matches. No this was weird. Clearly someone replaced this man with a double cause this was not normal.
Now. Darby wouldn’t necessarily say he cares about the guy. Max pisses him off and the way Max does things- well it goes against a lot of what Darby is about. But then again, who else was gonna figure out what’s going on? He really should learn to leave things well enough alone.
Max had his first match in a while. It was a sort of waiting build up, and fans were eager because well- Max has been pretty serious lately when it came to the rare discussions he did allow. Darby wasn’t even up in the match tonight he was just coming to watch. So he took time to really keep an eye on Max.
His heart just wasn’t in it. Whatever was messing with the guy, it showed in his wrestling. He didn’t even insult the city when Max came out. That bit at Darby somehow. Okay, so maybe he cared just a bit. Just this once.
Max sat in the locker room. He had waited closer to the end of the night for others to leave and break down everything in the ring for him to have some privacy. He placed an ice pack over his bicep and whined. He probably should wrap it in a towel but he didn’t bother to move. There were probably easier ways to go about all this, but Max was too exhausted to bother. He just wanted to finish this up and then go to his hotel room. Far away from everyone where it’s just him and Lion and…
His thumb immediately went to his mouth as he tried to shut the noises in his head up. They talk too much for his liking. He whined again as the ice pack began to drip cold water onto his thigh and he knocked it off onto the bench. He didn’t lose his match, but he sure didn’t feel great about his performance. It was difficult to focus when the bit of static in your brain was telling you it was actually time for a nap and not to get thrown all over the place.
“Ya know you’re just gonna get water everywhere right?”
Max nearly leapt out of his skin, thumb pulled out of his mouth and spun around seeing Darby. Well now his mood was even worse. He winced and held his bicep, having accidentally tugged at it from moving.
“Wh-?”
“You wrap a towel around the ice pack so it's not just wet everywhere.” Darby stated pointing at the ice pack like it was obvious.
“I know that!” Max stated. He did. But he didn’t think about it too hard. “Why are you still here?” He asked, trying to slip on his metaphorical-mask he’s been using almost nonstop these past few weeks. “Don’t you have a coffin to backflip into?”
Darby didn’t laugh or really budged much. “You’re being weird.” He stated rather bluntly, shoving his hands into his jacket.
“That’s rich coming from you,” Max swallowed and began to shove his bag together, throwing on his shirt, trying not to whimper at all the aches he was feeling. “Why do…why do you care?” Ah talking was getting difficult again.
Regression really came at the wrong times. It either takes him forever to settle down and slip in or it’s trying to peek its annoying head around at the most inopportune times. Max just wanted to get out of here and away from Mr. My Chemical Romance. He felt irritable enough as it was. This was probably close to what Max would assume having an annoying brother would be like.
Max must have been making an odd expression because Darby was suddenly up on him and giving a confused squint.
“Do you need help?”
“Wha’ no- I-” Clutched in Max’s hands were his sweatpants he was only semi-struggling to untangle and put on. “Go away.” Max snapped and pulled back, kind of bouncing back and Darby held his hands up.
“Jeez, okay. Fussy much?”
Oh, don’t use that word. Max practically pleaded in his head and bit back a whimper. He WAS fussy but he was not about to do this in front of Allin. No way, he refused it. It’s not like Darby would help him anyway, they never liked each other and-
“Maxwell.”
Max blinked back to attention. Darby was pretty soft spoken out of the ring. His tone was always pretty even and that would always infuriate and also freak Max out. But here it didn’t really feel that way. No, Darby wasn’t trying to be freaky. Though maybe it helped he didn’t have his greasepaint on.
Max made a weird noise in his throat as Darby shuffled his sweatpants on him and then stepped back. “Kid, how old are you right now?”
Ah.
Max blinked at him, going to dispute what the hell he meant but Darby just held his hand up. “Fingers.”
Max closed his mouth again and blinked before thinking a good bit. Probably longer to answer than a grown man should. Three fingers.
“Grab your stuff little man, I’ll get us a ride to the hotel.”
Darby tried not to make things awkward when he got Max to his hotel room. Max barely could remember which room it was before he had Darby pull the keycard out to get them in. Max’s hotel room was an obviously upgraded one because of course this man would have to have the best and most comfortable things. Darby didn’t bother to put on that judgemental mindset though, and instead dropped Max’s duffle by the bathroom as Max immediately dove onto the bed and covered his head in a pillow.
“Whatcha doin’ little man?”
“Go away.”
He really was a grumpy kid. “Don’t think that's a good idea when you’re like this.”
“Did it befo’. Don’ need no one.”
Darby wasn’t sure how to feel about that. It would follow the track record Max kept, avoiding letting anyone get too close. But due to these circumstances, Darby would feel bad if he just left Max like this.
“Well, just let me tonight. Then tomorrow you can tell me to fu-erm. I’ll leave you alone.”
Max was quiet after that, and Darby decided he would just pitch a campout on the uncomfortable couches most hotel rooms had. He dropped his own bag to search for his sweatshirt and shorts before glancing up and seeing Max peeking from under the pillow then hiding again. Darby raised a brow and stood with his clothes in his hands.
“Im gonna change real fast.”
No response so Darby walked into the bathroom. Returning, Max was now sitting up and standing beside the bed now, holding a few things.
“Whatcha got there?” Darby asked.
Max didn’t respond and turned away but made a huff sound.
“Oh come on, don’t be like that.” Darby sighed ,tossing his gear towards his bag. “Are you gonna do that all night?”
There was another pause before the other turned around hugging a very frayed stuffed lion in his hands and holding an oversized t-shirt which also seemed well used. And whatever design was on it was picked off.
“...'elp.” Max huffed.
Darby walked over and took the shirt from Max before helping him get his other shirt off. It then turned into a hesitant assistance of getting Max out of his wrestling gear he left on in a hurry back in the locker room and then putting on the comforting older shirt.
“What’s the Lion's name?”
“Lion.”
“It sure is kid, but-”
“No. He’s Lion.”
“...His name is Lion?”
Max nodded enthusiastically. “Yes.” Darby nodded along.
“Alright. Hi Lion. Can I pet him?”
Max looked hesitant, almost kind of fearful and held Lion a bit tighter. Then shook his head. Darby held his hands up again. “Got it, no touching. Hungry?”
Max nodded again.
Then came the act of ordering food in which Darby argued with Max over what to get because Max, despite his little age, decided he was still above McDonalds. They settled on something decent for Max and now were sitting in the hotel room picking at their food. Max wasn’t messy or loud. He ate pretty clean, and Darby was somewhat appreciative at not having to clean up anything more than some crumbs.
“‘Da’by?”
Darby glanced up. “Yeah?” There were not enough words in the dictionary to explain how much he would have never expected Max to say his name like that in this lifetime.
“Sorry”
Darby blinked. “About what?”
“Doin’ dis. You don’ like me.”
Darby bit the inside of his cheek in thought. He didn’t like Max, no. He thought the guy was scummy and kind of a drag but…This was clearly a sensitive mindset right now. He didn’t know why Max was doing this and he didn’t feel the need to pry. Max may very likely tell him to go to Hell tomorrow and Darby would expect nothing different.
“You know how I came to say you were actin’ weird earlier?”
Max nodded.
“It was ‘cause I noticed you didn’t feel good. You weren’t acting like your usual self and I decided to check in. So, we may not get along, but uh. If you like, you need to talk or…” He trailed off as he watched Max bite his lower lip. Oh, God was he gonna cry?
“Max?”
No crying. That was always Max’s rule to himself was that he would not allow himself to cry and complain. He broke this rule pretty often but he tried to upkeep it anyway. Here was Darby, someone who Max on and off bickered with throughout their careers, offering for Max to talk with him despite acknowledging that he didn’t even like him. Or at least, Darby didn’t seem to like Big him. Which, nobody ever did. Max knew this fact and has long since accepted this realization. But it was unfair to Max when he regressed that’s for sure.
There was a small sniffle sound and then and there Max realized he was crying. Great, more embarrassment. He wiped his wife with arm and placed the leftover trash he ate food out onto the nightstand by the bed. The tears just wouldn’t stop coming and he couldn’t even bother to look at Darby’s reaction to it.
Something semi-heavy and warm was placed in his lap, and Max looked up seeing Darby had dropped his jacket he wore earlier onto him. It was a sort of worn texture, and dark. It definitely smelled like Darby’s cologne and scents from the arena. Max blinked up confused and Darby sat on the bed with him. The weight of the jacket felt pretty nice overall, though it wouldn’t fit by a long shot.
“I know what it’s like to not have many people to turn to.” Darby said. “I’m not saying we gotta be best friends, but I’m not gonna turn down helping with…this.” He gestured to Max but the other got the point.
Max pulled the jacket up a bit, allowing it to mostly go over Lion like an oversized blanket. Awkwardly, Max picked at a string on his shirt and sniffled again but no more tears. “Can we watch ca’toons?”
Darby smiled. That was nice. Max liked that.
“Yeah, little man, what were you thinking?”