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Max wakes up smiling.
The sun stretches in bands of gold across his ceiling, melting away the blue walls below. The alarm hasn’t gone off yet and he has stayed still for minutes on end, counting the birdsong and the morning hum. In all fairness, he didn’t sleep very well last night, not that it’s brought his mood down in the slightest.
Because Friday night happened.
“You’re so warm,” Richie shivers, pressing his cold nose against Max’s neck, as the footballer chuckles wetly. The moon colors his hair, turns the blue tips into a heavenly white. Richie is an angel in disguise. His eyes are too deep and colorful, drowning in oceans of endless wonder. Max wraps his jacket around them both, trying to take Richie in as much as he can, as if their bodies could melt together under the light of the moon.
“You’re not,” Max laughs, pulling him in impossibly closer. He can’t even feel the brisk autumn chill, the last drips of summer washed away with the wind. The weather is the last thing on his mind right now, and it feels so far away. He might not even be in this universe, but in another one - more abstract and simple. He is only a wash of colors, a blend of sensations and soft symphonies.
He feels so raw, smooth as a pebble rolled in by the sleeping tide.
This isn’t like football, where every play has been drilled into him, practiced to perfection over and over again. There’s no sequence for this, nothing to prepare him for this moment.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Richie laughs and Max blinks, as if he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Max stutters out something, which only makes Richie laugh harder.
“What?” Max says after a moment of mental clarity. His voice is soft and gentler than he expected.
“Nothing, you’re just-” Richie draws in a breath “-adorable. Really cute when you get all quiet and happy. I’m glad I can finally say it out loud. I love when you let your walls down and just…exist. That you trust me with that.”
“Uh-” He says very smartly. Max’s ears get hot and he nuzzles into Richie’s shoulder, despite Richie’s giggles. “Ok, thanks.”
“You’re really good at taking compliments, aren’t you?”
“Mmhm.”
“I love you too,” Richie says, like it’s so easy, so simple.
Max draws back in surprise, almost unconsciously. Not out of Richie’s embrace, but somehow the distance he creates is immeasurable.
“No, don’t look at me like that.” He takes Max’s face in his hands. “I want you to hear it.”
“Richie-”
“Just-” Richie shakes his head, smiling. “Just accept it, Max. You’re just going to have to live with the fact that somebody loves you a whole lot and that someone is me. I love you a whole lot, Max. So deal with that. Or do I have to issue a ‘hallway infraction’?”
The surprise of such a recall to a time when they were bully and victim forces a laughter so deep from him that his knees buckle.
And they’re both laughing on the ground in his backyard that used to hold nothing but swinging trees and sorrow.
And so a new world has opened up for Max, who couldn’t have imagined anything other than death past the Waylon House.
He stretches out against the sunlit sheets and rises like the tide.
“Richie.” Max taps the lump next to him, who’s practically stolen all the blankets. “Richie-”
Max is still half asleep, so it doesn’t exactly register that the sun is way higher in the sky than it normally is on a Monday morning. Oh god - wait. No, that’s definitely not good.
Max jumps up out of bed. “Richie, get up! We’re late!”
“What?” His wild bed head surfaces from the blankets, and he blinks, dazed. “What happened?”
“My alarm didn’t go off- shit!” Max stubs his toe on the closet door and mutters a string of curses as he picks the nearest shirt off the hanger and lunges for his pants on the floor. Except Richie had folded his pants and put them on the desk chair.
They’d spent the whole weekend together, watching movies and hanging out. Richie’s uncle, Paul had been at a conference and Max’s dad was practically nonexistent, so they had the entire house to themselves. And it had been perfect, like a dream.
He feels like he can finally breathe again.
His prized football jacket is hung up in the closet and he slips it on, then glances at the bed. Richie’s already fallen back asleep.
“Richie! Wake up! We’re late-”
“I heard you the first time, Maximilian,” Which comes out as a slurred mush of sleepy groans.
Max laughs, “Not my name. Get up, Rich!”
He gently peels the blanket back.
“It’s 8:30!”
Richie’s eyes shoot open and suddenly, he’s jumping out of bed. “Jesus christ, why didn’t you say anything!”
Smiling, Max starts, “I did-”
“Shut up!” Richie grabs his clothes in a huff and races to the bathroom. And no, it’s definitely not fucking hilarious. And Max is definitely not laughing at his bed-head boyfriend stumbling down the hallway in such a hurry.
“I’m going to be late for remedial algebra!” Max calls through his laughter. He rushes down the creaking stairs of the house and to the kitchen, which still has dishes from last night.
While Richie’s getting ready, he heats up breakfast sandwiches in the microwave and starts the car. It’s now officially cold enough that frost has crept across the windshield. He doesn’t want Richie to be cold, so he lets the car warm up.
“Richie! We need to go!”
“Come up here and brush your teeth, stinkbreath!”
Max leaps up the stairs and brushes his teeth beside the newly-ready Richie, who looks completely put together and ready for school. Though secretly, Max prefers the rumpled, sleepy Richie from twenty minutes ago.
“Are we gonna tell people about us?” Max asks, slurred because he’s brushing his teeth, so it probably sounds more like gibberish than anything else.
“I think we should keep this to ourselves for now, especially because our friends are the nosiest people on the planet.”
“You want to ragebait them?”
“Exactly. They were so pushy about us getting together, even though they were right.”
“Uh huh.”
Max cannot stop smiling. His face hurts from just looking at Richie, who is simply wonderful.
Next, they’re running into the car and booking it to class, breakfast sandwiches in hand. Max offers stopping for coffee, but Richie is too anxious about being late that he can’t think straight. They miraculously find a parking spot and run into the high school (or a slow jog because of Richie’s asthma).
“I’ll see you at lunch?” Max asks, only barely slightly out of breath. They stand in the empty hall where the corridor forks and they unfortunately have to let go of the other’s hand.
“Perfect - and you’ve got football practice this afternoon?”
“After theater.”
“Swim practice starts today, so I can meet you after.”
“You’re gonna do amazing, Rich.”
“Wait - one more thing-” Richie rushes toward him and pulls him in for one last kiss and Max has to fight to not melt right there in the hallway. “I love you.”
“Ha…love you too,” Max grins dopily. “B-bye.”
Max kisses him again, one last time - and prays that there will be a thousand more ‘last times’ to come.
“So you’re not together?” Steph asks, arms crossed in disbelief.
Richie and Max look at each other innocently.
“We decided we were better off friends,” Richie shrugs, hiding his smile by taking a drink from his water bottle.
“Are you serious?” Ruth says next, dropping her fork into her school-lunch-grade lasagna. “But…but you guys - but! But-”
“We’re just friends,” Max adds. “Heels to Jesus.”
Richie kicks him under the table.
“I mean hand to fucking God.” He is trying so hard not to laugh right now, and he knows Richie is about one second away from murdering him.
“So that’s it then?” Pete looks between them, not really sold on the narrative. Next to him, Steph is downright pissed. She’s still holding his hand though, so it can’t be all that bad. “You’re just…friends?”
“We’ve already said that. It’s not like that guys, I swear,” Richie rolls his eyes, which might be overdoing it. “Not everything has to be romantic, Steph.”
“Okay, ouch. Fine, as long as you’re happy, we’re happy.” Which is total bullshit, she wants them together ASAP.
Richie smiles triumphantly. “Oh we are.”
He squeezes Max’s hand under the table.
Keeping a secret proves to be harder for Richie than Max, who’s been secretly gay since he popped into this world.
In truth, Richie wants their privacy, wants to explore this relationship without everyone in Hatchetfield finding out about their business. Because everyone is in everyone’s business.
And Max deserves better than that.
Even when he thinks he doesn’t.
But the downside is Max and Richie can’t kiss or even touch on campus. Which is driving Richie up the wall. He’d expected Max to be this insatiable hot, sweaty jock with carnal desires but Max was surprisingly restrained. They hadn’t had sex yet, for lack of a better word.
And yes, they’d just started dating a few days ago, but Richie was surprised when Max was the perfect gentleman who asked what Richie wanted, and that was to take things slow.
Apparently Richie’s body had other plans.
He’s sitting in calculus, trying to focus when Max pops into his head again.
His radiant smile and calloused hands cupping Richie’s jaw. How warm he is when he pulls Richie in for a hug. The kindness in his eyes, and his insistence on making Richie’s life easier in every way he can. Driving him around, making breakfast, all these stupid little things that make all the difference.
He texts Max to meet him in the haunted gender neutral bathroom after class, and sure enough, Max shows up, hair askew, a little sweaty. Clearly he just came from gym class. He looks like he was chiseled from stone, like some greek god.
“Richie,” He says softly, cupping his face and kissing him gently. “What’s up?”
That sweet kiss is torture and Richie wants to roughly make out and maybe break a few things, which doesn’t seem to be on Max’s agenda right now. That’ll have to change.
Richie pushes Max against the wall and kisses him like he’s been wanting to for ages. He swallows the surprised noise Max makes, but then Max pulls back slightly.
“What happened to taking it slow?”
“I want to make out with my boyfriend,” Richie says lowly.
“Your…your boyfriend.” Max smiles again. He’s been doing that a lot lately, and it fills Richie with pride.
“Yes, I want to make out…right now - and yes, I know this is the sex bathroom.”
“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Richie. I’m honestly having the time of my life.”
“I want to, I do, but later,” Richie huffs. He’s only slightly out of breath. He kisses Max again. “I really, really want to.”
“How about I follow your lead and you tell me if it’s too much,” Max offers, but most of that is lost against Richie’s lips. Max’s eyes are dark and sultry, unlike anything he’s ever seen before.
“Yeah, good,” Richie says, and that’s all that’s said for a little while.
By the time the bell rings, Richie’s been lifted onto the sink and his legs are wrapped around Max’s waist and Max’s shirt is riding up because Richie couldn’t resist touching him.
Max pulls back after a final, gentle kiss to Richie’s cheek.
“You don’t have to go,” Richie lets his head fall back against the mirror, huffing.
“Who are you and what have you done with Richie?” Max laughs. “Holy shit, I’ve turned you into a heathen.”
“You could say that,” Richie grins, smoothing out Max’s hair, which has become a mess of curls. “色男.”
“I’m so onto you about that nickname, Rich,” Max laughs. “But for now, class is calling. I’ll see you after practice.”
He blows a kiss and winks, and Richie knows he means it.
Richie sighs, gives himself a minute to calm himself and ease the blush in his face. He has to wash his face three times to tamp down the pink.
Then, he leaves with a stupid smile.
“Were you just in the sex bathroom with Max Jagerman?”
“Jesus!” Richie jumps out of his skin, and there is Steph, arms crossed and smirking. Play it cool. “Hey Steph.” His voice cracks. “This is the sex bathroom?”
“Oh yeah. Big time.” She looks him up and down.
“Oh wow. Okay, good to know.”
“What were you and Max doing in there? In the sex bathroom.” Her tone suggests she knows exactly what they were doing in there.
“He had gum in his hair. I was helping him…get it out.”
“Uh. Is that why he was so sweaty?”
“That was the - the water. Yeah. Because there was gum in his hair.” Richie grins cheekily. “Why are you here, Steph? Waiting for Peter?”
Steph goes pink. “I would never do it with Pete in that nasty bathroom!”
“Uh huh.” Richie takes this opportunity to turn around. “Look Steph, I’ve got class. That whole gum thing took forever. I don’t wanna be late.”
“I am so onto you Richie Lipschitz!” She yells at his back and he tries not to laugh.
Mission successful.