#Hinted edsabel

[iamwhelmed]

Doubt Totes Terror

Hey guys! I just wanted to doodle up a little one-shot, take a step away from WOHT for a moment, ya know? ;D Anyway, here, have this fluffy, fluffy, fluffy fic.

Summary: Isaac is very confused, very light-headed, and literally nothing about this situation is helping. What in the world happened between senior midterms and... now?

Rated T for alcohol mention (kinda, but not really), and implied sexual content. Oh yeah, and language.

Things had been rough, rougher than usual, really. Going through day after day with the Activity Club always hurt, but there was something special about that pain the last year, like everything he’d felt before had intensified. After Hijack, Isabel had clearly been beside herself with him, Ed followed suit like always, and Spender simply continued to be Spender-- but Max hurt. Max, who never deserved what he got from him, who hadn’t done anything wrong... he hated Isaac, too. Every bit of snark was underlined in angry red pen, and try as he might to do the right thing, to patch things up between them, that line grew bolder, and soon there was no reading between the lines because the lines weren’t there, just red ink turned grey and lifeless. Max remained distant and unattached, but Isaac had, perhaps unintentionally, opened his heart to him, let him a little too close for the lack of return he was getting, but he couldn’t help it. Max was cool, and funny (when his heart wasn’t snapping under the butt of the joke), and even if he never let Isaac in the same way, didn’t exactly comfort him or pat his shoulder, he still defended him. Well, he defended him in battle anyway. Maybe it was all the teamwork, all the long hours spent alone with him, but somewhere along their fiftieth trek through the woods, Max’s eyes started to look like the stars overhead.

Aside from that though, Isabel still snuffed him, Ed still avoided him, Spender still ignored him, and Max still ruffled his feathers constantly (of course, nowadays his heart did flips just to hear him call his name). He’d become the mascot forever, he supposed. He was just doomed to the bed he’d made for himself. But that wasn’t anything new, and he’d by and by become used to it.

What killed him was Johnny, and the hand he had in Max’s back pocket.

They looked good together, got along well. Max actually smiled around Johnny, and Johnny wasn’t as destructive (to himself or anyone else) when Max was around. Max told jokes Johnny didn’t get, and Johnny was touchy-feely and made Max screech. Lots of times Isaac would sit there from across the lunchtable and just watch the way Max looked at him, and as bad as it hurt to see this unique softness in a guy so disinterested in everybody around him, see the way his hand tapped over on playful fingers to latch around Johnny’s under the table (everyone saw it and pretended not to, for Max’s sake, not his), he couldn’t look away. He told himself that they were only in high school. Things would get better. Max and Johnny would date for a few months, get sick of each other and split... but it never happened.

They’d hit senior year when Johnny started openly blabbing about marriage, and half a week into midterms when Max started dropping hints about eloping.

And that was where Isaac was now, laying on his bed with the curtains drawn in the dead of night, one arm to his eyes to catch the tears that hadn’t stopped for a solid hour. What an idiot he was. How stupid he was. He’d always known he was falling like a rock down a river, and that Max floated atop the current, but he’d still hoped, and every night he still had dreams, though those dreams were mostly plagued by visions of red and blue lights melding and molding like the Aurora. All he could do was watch from where he’d been pegged to the ground, take in the sight and smile because, even if he wasn’t a part of it, even if he never would be... it was beautiful.

His body wracked with another sob, and he set the balls of his wrists to his eyes hoping to corner off some of it, but thick bold streams dripped and colored the skin of his cheek down to the bottom of his ear wet. His chest hurt, felt heavy, and he could breath but he really didn’t want to. His heart was twisting, and churning, and he was certain it’d grown tangled in its own strings.

What an idiot he was. How stupid he was.

“Max...” He grinded his teeth, knowing there’d be no response.

He turned to his side, legs curling at his chest. He lifted half the pillow and bent it over his face, muffling his sobs. He was broken. He was a mess. He’d known all along it was coming, and it was all he could do to keep from bothering the rest of the house.

He faded out for a moment, then faded in.

When he opened his eyes the third time, they felt heavy, and he couldn’t see for anything behind the curtain of gaussian blur that’d fallen over every inch of his iris. Stern hands shook him by the shoulders. He raised one hand and tried to wave them away, but the shaking grew more forceful, so he wiped at his eyes instead. Must have been all the crying. “Isaac.”

“Wh-what...? What?”

“You’re crying. What’s up?”

Isaac sniffed, wiping away the last of the dried tears from the corner of his eye. The person before him was still a blur, a mask of browns and blues and white. He blinked a few times, then squinted, and soon enough, a clear vision of Max’s face came into view. His brows were furrowed, like he was doing his best to bunch his two eyebrows together, and he was close-- so very, very close. Isaac blushed at the proximity, and moved back a few inches to save face, and maybe get some air that wasn’t muddled with the heat of Max’s breath on his lips... oh god, were they that close? “Max? Wha- what are you doing here?”

The furrow of Max’s brows grew more pronounced, and there was a shred of-- fear?-- in Max’s widening eyes. “What?”

Isaac yawned and rubbed both eyes with one hand, because Max couldn’t know he’d been crying, and maybe he was feeling a great deal sluggish. “It’s like, midnight or something, right?”

“Yes...?”

“Then...” Isaac paused, one thought rising above all others and jarring him from his fuzzy sorrow-filled brain. He inhaled sharply, crawling away to the opposite end of the bed, scrambling to catch his rear end from falling over the edge. “Wh-why are you in my bed!” Sure enough, Max was laying beside him, under the covers, head propped up in one hand like it was completely normal for them to be sharing a bed, sharing covers and space and-- heaven forbid-- air!

Max frowned and sat up completely, frown growing deeper, and from above, more intimidating.  “I mean, do you want the long answer,” he gestured to... the bed? “Or the short answer?” Isaac raised an eyebrow, and glanced down at the mangled sheets and...Max’s...bare...leg...

Oh no. Slowly, with all the caution of a horror film protag and the grace of a baby deer with only two legs to work with, he lifted the sheets from off his body, looked under, then quickly pulled them back down.

He fell silent, and Max leaned over, one hand between them as he got, once again, uncomfortably close. “Isaac?”

“We did... we did that.”

“Yeah. We’ve, we’ve been doing that.”

“No we haven’t!” Isaac whipped around, bunching as much of the covers as he could at his waist, before realizing he was unintentionally revealing more and more of Max’s bare torso and-- for fuck sake. He pulled the covers over the front of his face, up to his forehead, because it was really the only thing he could do to hide the fierce red covering the entirety of his upper body. “Ooohh my god, ooohh my god! This is not happening. This is not happening! I’m dead! I have to be!”

Max reached over and plucked the covers from his face as he would a feather from a chicken, because that’s what Isaac was right now-- a chicken. “What are you talking about?”

Isaac then covered his face with both hands, peeking out at Max between the slits of his fingers. “Maaax... we-- we--!”

“Yeah. Why are you flipping out about this?”

“Why aren’t you?”

“I mean why are you flipping out about this now, after like, three years.”

“What?”

“Don’t what me! I’m what’ing you!”

Isaac grimaced and ran a hand over the side of his face, leaving the other to fall limply at his lap. He was tired, so very tired, in more than just the physical sense. “Max, you’re really freaking me out, I have no idea how this happened. We need to tell Johnny.”

For not the first time that night, Max looked pensive, pensive and confused. He squinted at him. “Um, so, left field question here, but uh,” he pressed the palms of his hands together, then placed them under his nose. “Why would we tell Johnny?”

Isaac reeled back, jaw coming completely unhinged because-- what? What?

“Be-because he’s your boyfriend, you smartass! You cheated on him, it’s the right thing to do!” Of all the unbelievable-- Max? Cheating? Having no remorse? He knew he was bad at promises but come on! This was a bit much!

If he was confused before, he was utterly bewildered when Max reflected the exact same exasperation and disbelief, along with something else? Sticking your tongue out usually meant disgust, right? “What the actual flip are you talking about? I have never, plan to never, and will never date Johnny Jhonny!”

“Well what the frick were the last four years, then? For pete sake, you guys were” He froze, setting on elbow at his knee, resting his forehead in his hand as he took a long, trembling breath. “You guys were talking about-- about getting married, about starting a family. I heard you!”

“No the fuck you didn’t!” Max crossed his legs under the covers, turning to face Isaac completely. It almost felt like a sleepover, like they were just friends discussing the crisis of the future, of college and careers and dead-end jobs, not infidelity. “And what do you mean four years? Isaac, tell me what’s going on. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you’re thinking.”

Isaac gripped at his hair, intent on pulling it all out, every last inch of orange, with tweezers and a razor if he must. He felt like he was going insane, and he might have been. “I-- Don’t get me wrong, Max, I-- I want this. I just, I just don’t understand. W- we just took our midterm today in English! You told Cody you and Johnny were gonna elope after graduation--!”

“What.”

“And Johnny, Johnny has been talking about you and him tying the knot since the year started! You guys have been so excited! I mean, I guess you’ve been as excited as somebody like you could get about something like that, but!”

“Isaac.”

“I was just gonna be happy for you!” His voice was starting to crack, but he wasn’t gonna cry again. He couldn’t. “But now? I don’t- don’t remember how this happened!”

“Okay, look at me.”

He glanced up as Max leaned forward, cupping his face in either of his hands. Isaac swallowed, and Max got closer. Even though their noses were brushing, he saw something familiar in his face, something he’d seen a lot, though he couldn’t place it. Even if he was close enough he could only faintly see Max’s eyes, he could still make out the stars, and they were shining.

Max kissed him, softly, pressed their lips together and ran a thumb over his cheek, and his heart fluttered despite knowing it was a bad idea. Max was gentle, like he was afraid Isaac would break and turn to dust between his fingers if his kiss was anything but light like a brush of wind. He knew he shouldn’t, but it was everything he’d ever dreamed of, everything he’d ever wanted, just a kiss; he closed his eyes. Max shifted to sit up on his knees, wrapping one arm around his neck. He’d suddenly become less afraid, deepened the kiss, pulled him closer. Isaac played along, let him lead, because frankly, he didn’t know what else to do.

Again and again, their lips parted, then met, and brushed, and dived, until Isaac finally pulled away, pressing a hand over Max’s mouth. “Stop it.” He was breathless, and what would have been a command sounded more like a plea, but Max listened. Kind of.

He took Isaac’s wrist in his hand and pressed a kiss to his palm, eyes never fleeting, even as Isaac pulled that hand away. “Cody was never in an English class with us. You and I didn’t even have an English class together.”

“...Huh...?”

“And you and I haven’t taken a midterm in a year, at least, not in highschool.” Max set both his hands in his lap, fingers wrapping around the bone of his blanket-covered calves. “And no, Johnny and I are not talking about marriage. I promise you, I’ve never, ever dated him. Not even briefly. Not even a fling.”

Wait, hold on. What? Isaac frowned, and glanced around the bedroom. Much to his surprise, it was not the one he’d grown up in, and certainly not the same house. The bed was a queen, but that was about as far as the similarities went. The dull yellow curtains of his bedroom, the one he remembered falling asleep in, were a light blue against a tan wallpaper (wallpaper he remembered being grey). This room was smaller, not by much, but enough to notice, and was filled with pictures of him and Max, and the club, and it all ranged from middle school to what appeared to be graduation (from middle school? High school? He was the only one not in cap and gown). Isaac glanced down. The sheets were different, too, though he couldn’t remember exactly what they’d looked like before. Yes, this definitely was not his bedroom. “Is this... your room?”

“Wow you are really out of it tonight. Since you can’t seem to remember, this is our apartment. We live here.” Max coughed, and mumbled “... together.”

Isaac blinked, and turned around to look at Max, who was looking everywhere but his eyes now, an unfamiliar (though it felt like he’d seen it before) rose dusting the tips of his cheeks, riding along his nose. “Wait, I live with you?”

“Yeah, we’re together. That’s what people do when they’re dating.”

“I’m dating you?”

“Yes! That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you! You had a nightmare! Or something! I don’t know, you were kinda freaking me out.”

Isaac usually, well, felt that usually, he would have snapped back, say that he was just as, if not more, freaked out, but he was just too damn happy to reflect snark. Isaac reached forward, cupping Max’s cheeks in his hands, running his thumb over his nose, brushing his hair back with his other fingers, felt the warmth of his cheeks, which were certainly growing hotter under his gaze. Max watched him, eyes wide, lips thin. “Oh my god you’re my boyfriend!”

“Fiance, actually.”

“I can kiss you!”

“That’s the idea.”

“I can-- I can hug you!”

“Not in public, preferably, but also yeah.”

“Oh my god.”

“You okay?”

Isaac breathed and leaned forward, digging his nose into Max’s neck, reveling in the shiver he felt run along Max’s spine. He was breathless, weightless, walking on a cloud high above level nine. His hands fell to Max’s arms and squeezed them, just to make sure this wasn’t the dream, and he’d wake up to the painful life he’d been leading all by himself. Max was here. He was his. “I’m fantastic.”

He could feel Max swallow. “Okay, that’s it, never ever again are you going to bed drunk. This is too much. I can’t handle this every time you get wasted.”

“I’m wasted?”

“I mean, you were... before.” Max gestured to him. “I don’t know what this is.”

Isaac chuckled, pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck. “I love you.” He pressed more kisses up and down the length of his side, from his temple to his collarbone, feather-light and filled to the brim with emotions he couldn’t even begin to contain. “I love you, I love you, I love you!”

“I sure hope so. If you didn’t, that would make this super awkward.”

Isaac went to press another kiss to Max’s neck, only for Max to grab his chin in one hand, redirecting his lips to his own. Isaac obliged, wrapped both arms around his neck and ran his hands through his hair, making it as messy and unpresentable as possible because oh my gosh it was real, this was all real. Max’s kiss grew shallow, and it took Isaac a moment to realize it was because he was grinning. And then Max was laughing, trying his best to muffle it between kisses but failing miserably. “I thought I heard you say my name.”

“Did I?”

“Yeah, that’s what woke me up...” Max pressed another kiss to the side of his lips, but returned to an actual kiss soon after. “You were crying in your sleep. Dream that bad?”

Isaac nodded, speaking between kisses. “Yeah.”

Max snickered again, pressing their foreheads together.

“So... you guys didn’t hate me after Hijack?” Isabel sighed over the phone.

“No, Isaac. Didn’t hate you the first time, either.”

He sighed, hands wrapping around a hot mug of green tea. Max sat across from him at their small square table, one hand on the phone to keep it upright while the speaker blared. Isaac blew on the steam, watching as it shifted in the current of his air. He glanced to Max, and gave him a smile, a silent thank-you for the uncharacteristic nurture which, Max was stubborn about, “wasn’t so uncharacteristic anymore”. Max smiled right back. “Isabel, can you tell Isaac that I’ve never dated Johnny Jhonny?”

“What? He thinks what?” Then she cackled into the phone for a good, long minute. And when I say cackle, I mean that, on the other line, she had one hand over her stomach, head thrown back, and was nearly falling right over the back of her recliner. Isaac pouted, and Max grinned from ear-to-ear. “That’s fuckin’ hilarious.”

“I tried to tell him, but he just kept saying no, you guys have been dating for years, you’re talking about getting engaged--!”

“I do not sound like that.”

“How would you know Mister Amnesiac?”

Isabel finally caught her breath on the other line, and Isaac could almost see her wiping away a salty, salty tear. “Oh, Isaac, dude, no. Just, no.”

“Yeah, thanks, I get that now.” He honestly didn’t think it was so crazy. Now that his memories had, somewhat, returned, he could recall a few times where Johnny had looked at Max with a certain... desire... in his eyes, and he recalled some exchanges of dialogue where Max (jokingly, sure, let’s go with that) flirted, but apparently that was just him. Though, now that he thought about it, was Johnny even the type to get married? Was Max? Well, the matching rings on their fingers said yes.

“No, Isaac, really, it’s hilarious that your brain decided Max-- Max!-- of all people--”

“-- was dating Johnny, yeah, I get it, it’s funny.”

“No, I mean, yeah, but like... Max has had his eye on you since eighth grade.”

At this point, Max’s eye widened, and a deep crimson fell over the tips of his ears and nose, lips twitching into a scowl. He reached out to press the off button, but Isaac snatched it out of his hand, at the price of splashing some hot tea over the side of his mug, and sneered at him. Max’s scowl grew harder, and funnier. “Oh really? You know, my memories from that time period haven’t returned yet.”

“I’m not sure you knew back then anyway, but yeah,” Max reached out in a panic, swinging for the phone. Isaac stood up fast, taking a step just out of Max’s reach as he bent over the table. “I think it had something to do with Doorman back in the day? Something about that whole debacle just kinda got him all crushing on you and stuff.”

Max’s fearsome scowl had dropped to a mere, pleading look. It was then that he was truly, truly glad this was his reality, because nothing-- nothing-- was better than Max’s puppy dog eyes. He snickered and readjusted the phone to his other ear, taking a sip of his tea. “Huh, how funny. How’d you notice?”

“Isaac--!”

“Pfft, how could I not? He kept moping around when you couldn’t make it to a mission. Not to mention the extensive longing looks--”

“--ISAAC PUT THE PHONE DOWN--!”

“-- and his phone’s background. You know he just had a picture of you, the same picture, as his home screen, for like, years until you guys started dating.”

His heart swelled, and he turned to look at Max, who had his head just about buried in his arms, aura swaying erratically over his hunched shoulders. “... has he really liked me that long?”

“Like isn’t exactly the right word, but yeah.”

How, how could his brain have created such a terrible, awful nightmare when every day he lived in this reality? A reality where Isabel and Ed were his friends, friends of seven years, and Max liked him-- like, liked him liked him, enough to marry him! He could hardly contain his burst of love, appreciation, just joy, pure joy for the life he was leading and the people around him and the sheer luck of it all. He was happy. He was loved. He had friends. This was his best possible timeline, and he still carried enough doubt in him to fear Johnny in his dreams? To fear the same things he feared as a dumb kid? He laughed, for the third time that night, breathless, and shook his head. “Thanks, Isabel. We’ll talk to you tomorrow. Get some rest.”

She snorted. “With a baby? Please. You were the one keeping me entertained. I’m gonna be up all night. The hubby should be home soon, but--”

Isaac blinked, suddenly very thrown off because, once again-- what? “You’re married? You have a baby?”

There was a pause, and then Isabel sighed. “Jesus christ, Max, get him to bed. If Ed finds out he’s this lost he’s gonna just fuck with him. So. Hard.”

Max groaned and sat up, stretching his arms over his head. “Yeah, that’s the plan.”

“See ya, Isaac. Get some sleep. Maybe things’ll clear up in the morning.”

“I can only hope.” With a click, the line disconnected, and Max took the phone back, gently, Isaac almost thought he’d brushed his fingers on purpose. Their eyes met, and Max ran a hand over the back of his neck, tugging at the sleeve of his shirt (actually, it probably was Max’s shirt, there was no way he’d voluntarily wear this, not according to what he remembered so far anyway). He was still blushing, and Isaac couldn’t get enough of it, couldn’t memorize that shy look on his face as much as he wanted to. He wanted it to stick on the inside of his brain, stay there with him, always. Like a light, a guiding light.

“Come on, let’s get to sleep.”

“Okay.”