Work Text:
Max
It’s night.
Of course I can’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes, all I see is guilt. Me, sitting in that stupid wheelchair, doing nothing while everything fell apart. God, I miss her. God, I want her back. Before I realize it, tears are sliding down my face. My chest tightens, and I’m sobbing harder than I can stop. Stupid. Stupid, stupid idiot. Today had started off so well. A sleepover at the Wheelers’—Holly running around, Nance giving me those suspicious looks because of my long sleeves, but otherwise… it was perfect. Except this part… Nance’s eyes dropped, just for a second. Enough. She’s noticed. My stomach sinks, and I hug myself tighter. “Max,” she says slowly. “Why are you wearing a hoodie to bed?” “Because I want to.” “That’s not an answer.” I sit up abruptly. “Why do you care so much?” She doesn’t flinch. “Because you won’t look at me, and you’re acting like you’re hiding something.” I feel my stomach drop. “I’m not, drop it Nance.” “Fine.” And now I’m here, in Nance’s room, everything else taken, crying so hard I’m sure she’s awake. “Max? MAX—hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s okay. I know, I know,” she says. I can barely breathe. I feel horrible. I just want El back. I should’ve done something—anything—with Billy too. “Oh, Max, you’re burning. Here, let’s get this hoodie off, huh?” Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I can’t argue. The hoodie slips off, and there they are—the scars I tried so hard to hide. A few are still bleeding. “Max…” “I’m sorry,” I choke out, my words caught between sobs. “Nope. We’re not doing that. Oh Max… why didn’t you tell me it was this bad? Wrists? Okay, hey, it’s okay. Breathe with me.” I sob harder. The realization that Nance knows mixes with the guilt until it almost crushes me. She pulls me into a tight hug, and slowly, finally, I stop crying. When I can finally breathe again, she guides me to her desk. I try to shrug my hoodie back on, but “No. Don’t even try that,” she interrupts. “It’s not going to work. You’re boiling hot, Max. You might as well keep it off.” I sigh and slump into the chair. Nance sits across from me, her eyes steady, waiting. “Max, talk to me.” “What do you mean? I’m fine.” I try to keep my tears back, but my voice cracks. “Max.” “You don’t sound fine,” Nancy says. “I said I am,” I snap, sharper than I meant. Defensive. That’s all I have right now. Nancy doesn’t back off. She leans closer, frowning. “You’re shaking.” I pull my sleeves down tighter over my hands. “It’s cold.” “It’s the middle of summer.” “Congratulations, Wheeler,” I mutter, bitter. “Max.” It’s not loud. Doesn’t have to be. “I just—” My voice cracks. I clamp my mouth shut. Nancy softens slightly. “Hey. Talk to me.” I laugh under my breath. No humor in it. “You really don’t want to get into my head right now.” “Try me.” The silence is fucking deafening. I stare at the floor. “I keep seeing it,” I mutter. “Every time I close my eyes.” Nancy doesn’t interrupt. “Billy. El. All of it.” I swallow. “And I just… sat there.” “That’s not what happened” “Yeah, it is,” I snap, louder now. “I didn’t stop anything. I didn’t save anyone.” My breathing picks up. Nancy leans closer, careful. “Max—” “I should’ve done something!” My voice breaks. “I always should’ve done something, and I never do.” The room goes quiet except for my uneven breaths. Its my fault, it's all my fault...