#anyways i've had this sitting foreverrrr i just haven't been able to get it up
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swingsets and bitter daylight
max mayfield/lucas sinclair 3.4k - read on ao3 requested by anonymous from this list: 19. âplease donât let me be alone.â
Everything is over before Max even realizes it. The headlights of Billyâs car surge bright in her eyes, in her friendsâ eyes, and the screeching of the monsters in the tunnels beneath them disappears. They stand there in the cold, breathless and apprehensive of the sudden silence, holding fistfuls of each otherâs jackets and shirts and backpack straps to make sure they donât lose someone else. Maxâs mind is stumbling over itself as she tries to comprehend the new situation. The car lights fade back to normal and the bracing nighttime air wraps around them with a peaceful quiet thatâs almost startling.
Itâs really over. They just donât know if their efforts were in vain or not yet.
âWhat do we do now?â someone asks after a long minute. She isnât sure who spoke. Maybe it was her.
They go home. Steve drives.
Max is tired.
Numb and detached, she drags herself up into the Byers house with her friends and they find it empty. Shards of glass and papers upon papers of chaotic blue drawings are scattered everywhere. Billy is gone â all that remains of his attack is the empty syringe, a gash in the floor, and the bruises on Lucasâ neck and the blood on Steveâs face. She can barely look at them; how she wishes she had done more, sooner.
The fates of El and Will are still in the wind and Max knows that neither she nor anyone else will be able to rest until everyone has come home, so she starts moving. If she doesnât, the waiting will kill her. The jagged memory of black and blue monsters clawing at the doors of the bus will kill her. The dread of how she might have just made things so much worse with Billy will kill her. The fear of how close she and her friends came to death tonight in those corrupt, claustrophobic tunnels will kill her. Her adrenaline is all gone; thereâs nothing to hold any of it back now except her own force of will, and she doesnât have much of that left at the moment.
Thereâs not much talking as the five of them shuffle around the house, finishing the cleaning they didnât get around to earlier to keep themselves busy. Max tries to keep everything at bay by focusing on something good. The easiest thing to latch on to is Lucas, his kind eyes and even kinder words. Not once since their first meeting has he given up on her. While the rest of the party still feel somewhat like strangers to her, Lucas has already carved out a place for her and made sure that she knows he wants her there. After how Iâve treated him, I donât even deserve it, she thinks sadly, looking over at him. Heâs on the floor by the couch, scooping Willâs drawings into a trash bag. Heâs clearly just as exhausted as she is, but when he looks up and catches her eye he offers her a smile. She tries to return it but finds that she canât, so she hopes her eyes get the message across. From his expression, she thinks it does, and her heart eases.
Joyce, Jonathan, Nancy, and Will return first. Sighs of relief and tight hugs go around and questions of their wellbeing are met with quick reassurances. Will looks worse than all of them put together, his skin ashen, his eyes bloodshot and distant, sweat dripping down his temples. But heâs alive, heâs breathing, so all the risks they took werenât for nothing. Joyce takes him to a room down the hall (Max still isnât familiar with the layout of the house) and neither of them reappear for a long while. Nancy and Jonathan emerge from another room after a few minutes, their faces cleaned up and a stack of blankets and pillows in hand.
âIf anyone wants to stay the night here, youâre welcome to,â Jonathan says, setting the pile of bedding on the couch. Max doesnât need to ask why heâs offering â none of them want to go home and fight off the promised nightmares alone. She hopes tomorrow night will be easier, after theyâve had a chance to rationalize everything in the comforting daylight, but tonightâŠshe doesnât even want to think about what could be waiting for her at home.
âHave Hopper and El not come back yet?â Nancy asks, hovering by the kitchen table. Max isnât sure who her question was directed at but since sheâs the closest, she shakes her head. It occurs to her that Nancy and Jonathan probably donât even know her name, let alone how she came to join this motley group. It isnât important right now, she decides.
Mike is inconsolable â he paces in front of the broken window and chews his nails down to the quick and heâs so ramped up that itâs putting Max on edge even more than she already is. She gets it, but she can see itâs for two reasons: the need to keep his mind off everything, just like she and all the rest of them are trying to do â and El. Max wonders just how deep Mike is in it with her. When she saw their reunion earlier, the way they clung to each other made her feel like she had walked in on a private moment. Maybe itâs love. Max isnât sure if sheâd recognize it.
Finally, finally, the police chiefâs truck rumbles into the driveway. Mike is first out the door and the rest of them follow after him, beyond relieved to see their telekinetic savior living and breathing. Max trails behind the group â she and El donât even know each other, and besides, El already has enough people smothering her.
Thatâs what Max tells herself as she swallows back the hot lump in her throat. Before, El made it clear how she felt about Max, and as much as Max would love to try, she canât pretend the rejection doesnât sting.
Shortly after El and Hopper come inside and a headcount is made, the time comes to face sleep. Max knows sheâs going to stay over even before they start discussing who will sleep where, and all of a sudden sheâs struck with the heart-stopping fear that Lucas, her only ally here, will go home.
She quickly moves from her seat at the kitchen table over to where Lucas stands next to the wall, watching them divvy up blankets and pillows. He gives her a tired smile when he sees her.
âAre you going to go home?â she asks him quietly, without preamble.
âOh, I â I donât really know yet. If thereâs not enough sleeping bags, I might.â He frowns. âWhy? Is everything okay?â
Max hesitates, not quite sure how to put her need for him to stay into words. âI just â I canât go home tonight. Billy might be there and I donât know what to tell my mom and I donât want to walk all the way there in the dark, and I justâŠplease donât let me be alone here, Lucas. Please.â
She can hear the desperation in her voice and feel the burning behind her eyes and she hates it, especially when they both know he doesnât owe her anything, but his gaze softens immediately and he nods.
âYeah, of course Iâll stay. Donât even worry about it, okay? Iâll stay with you.â
Sheâs afraid that if she tries to speak sheâll burst into tears now that the terror and the adrenaline and the exhaustion of the night has finally caught up with her, so she just nods gratefully and he wraps an arm around her shoulders. Somehow she manages to choke out a thank you, and he squeezes her closer.
âIâm not going anywhere, Max. I promise.â
The next day is worse. It shouldnât be, but somehow it is. After a night of tossing and turning without ever truly achieving sleep, Max opens her eyes to cold daylight streaming in through the broken windows. Her bones are heavy, her mind numbed to a standstill. All her emotions have all melted into one dark, unfeeling pit in her stomach, like when a kid tries to combine all their crayons to make a rainbow but just ends up with black. Lucas is still asleep next to her and it seems impossible that he could look so peaceful. At least one of us is, she thinks.
âDo you want to come to my house for a little bit?â he asks her once theyâve all gotten up and helped put away the sleeping bags. The rest of them are going home to make their excuses and change clothes and eat breakfast. Max hates to admit it, but even though she doesnât want to force herself on the unknown family of her new friend, sheâs still too terrified of the bigger unknowns lying in wait for her at home. Her mind is too muddied and wrung out from last night â the last week, really â for her to predict and prepare for Neilâs or Billyâs or her momâs reactions to her being gone for so long. Some small, logical part of her mind tells her that waiting is just going to make things worse, but she ignores it. Itâs easier that way.
She can feel her shoulders slump as she nods. âIf thatâs okay.â
Lucas smiles sideways at her, like the idea that it wouldnât be okay is ridiculous. âOf course itâs okay. And besides, I donât really want to walk home alone either.â
âDonât you live next door to Mike?â
âYeah, but heâs going to Hopperâs cabin to be with El, so itâs just us.â
The daylight is blinding. Reassuring, but blinding after everything. Autumn rips through the town with cold winds and dead leaves and spindly bare branches that reach towards the sky in vain. As they walk, Max canât find the energy to make conversation but itâs alright, because Lucas canât seem to either. With every other step she takes, movement flashes in her periphery. She knows itâs just the ghosts of everything sheâs seen, the dark afterimages of nightmares made real, but the skip of her heart and the lurch in her stomach doesnât. Lucasâ hand is swinging right there, just inches away from hers, and she doesnât think heâd pull away if she took it. Itâd be nice, having that warmth in her hand again. She barely had time to register it on the bus â grabbing his hand was a knee-jerk reaction. She needed something solid to hold on to, a reminder that there were other humans there with her. But thinking about it now, it was nice.
Lucasâ yellow-walled house is a blur. She tries her best to be polite when Lucas introduces her to his parents, and then theyâre in his room, and then heâs showing her the bathroom. Distantly, she sees a soft pink towel folded neatly on the counter. Set out for her, most likely. She drops her mud-spotted, probably radioactive clothes on the tile and stands under the showerhead until the water runs cold. After, she changes back into her jeans and one of Lucasâ shirts that he offered her.
âIâd give you one of Ericaâs but youâre twice her size,â he says. She shakes her head, tells him itâs fine. And it is. The cotton is clean and soft against her skin. Itâs comforting, steadying.
Mrs. Sinclair, with the same gentle brown eyes as her son, gives Max a plate of scrambled eggs and toast and a fork. She isnât hungry, not in the least, but she smiles and says thank you and forces it down anyways. Sometime in the afternoon (or at least she thinks itâs the afternoon), Lucas suggests they go for a walk.
âIs there a park here?â she asks as they walk down his porch steps, zipping up their jackets. Surprise crosses his face for just a moment â it must be because all morning, sheâs said a grand total of about twenty words â but then the look is gone, and he nods.
âYeah, of course. Thereâs a few, actually, but thereâs one near here thatâs usually empty.â
âOkay. Cool.â
Again, they walk in silence. Her hair is wet and cold against the back of her neck, but it has the same grounding effect on her as Lucasâ shirt does. It reminds her that she can still feel things; she is still real.
They reach the park before long and like Lucas promised, itâs empty. Max makes a beeline for the swings; she hears Lucas chuckle at her quiet eagerness, and then he takes the swing next to her. She slowly pushes herself back and forth and tips her head up to the brilliant blue sky. She inhales, sharp, clean oxygen flooding her lungs. She doesnât close her eyes. She canât.
She realizes that Lucas is waiting on her to speak. Not in an impatient or expectant way; heâs just not forcing conversation on her. Itâs a bit of a surprise when she finds that she wants to talk. Maybe itâs because itâs him.
âThanks for, yâknow, letting me shower and eat and stuff,â she says, glancing over to him. He smiles, already looking back at her.
âNo problem. You can stay with me â I mean, us, for as long as you want. Itâs no big deal.â
She shakes her head, her gaze falling back to her lap. âItâs okay. Iâll go home today.â
Lucas hesitates, and she already knows what heâs thinking. âAre you sure? I can go with you, if you want.â
The thought of voluntarily bringing sweet, courageous Lucas anywhere near the violent maelstrom of Billy again makes her sick to her stomach. She keeps her tone neutral, almost normal. âReally, Lucas, itâs fine.â
It isnât fine.
He shrugs. âAlright. But if you need me, or you want me there, just let me know, okay?â
âI will.â
Will she?
After a few more minutes of tranquil quiet accompanied by the creaking of the swings, the gnawing in the back of Maxâs mind urges her to talk more. She knows now that itâs definitely because of Lucas. She trusts him. He understands her, or at least he tries to. Heâs kind to her, and her heart is yearning for all the kindness she can get nowadays. And she likes him â oh, how she likes him already. Too much. Itâs dangerous â not for her, but for him.
âCan I tell you something?â she says to the woodchips being pushed around by the toe of her shoe.
âYeah, sure.â
She takes another moment, trying to figure out the words she needs. âIâm notâŠbrave,â she finally says, softly.
Lucas stares at her. âWhat are you talking about? Of course youâre brave. Youâre, like, the bravest person Iâve ever met. What you did last night, with the car, and with Billy and the needle and what you said to him ââ
âIt wasnât like that. I was just trying to keep you guys safe and I had all this adrenaline and all this anger and itâs like I wasnât even thinking about what I was doing. It was easy right then and there.â She lets out a heavy sigh, running a hand up and down the cold links of the swing chain. âBut it isnât like that one moment changes everything. Iâm still really, really scared of him, Lucas. He still hurt you and Steve, and what if I made things worse? What if I go home and he â he ââ She canât fathom it right now. She swallows back the rest of her sentence and moves on to a new one. âI donât want you thinking Iâm some kind of superhero or something. Iâm not fearless, and Iâm not really that brave.â
With a shallow breath, she finally looks up at him. His eyebrows furrow ever so slightly; she canât tell what heâs trying to puzzle out. Finally, he shakes his head.
âMaybe it was just the heat of the moment, so what? You still did it, Max. You were brave whether you admit it or not, and I know that you can be brave again if you want to be. Thatâs who you are.â Lucas smiles at her again, his belief in her infallible, and she feels tears pricking behind her eyes. He reaches over and squeezes her hand. âYou saved our asses, Max, even though it meant facing something that terrifies you. Thatâs brave.â
She canât hold his gaze anymore. Her eyes fall to the faint purple bruises on the base of his neck, made visible in the sunlight. âI didnât save your ass,â she mumbles.
âThat wasnât your fault, you know it wasnât.â
âI put you in danger. He came after you because he knew you were my friend, he knew I liked you ââ
âMax, he came after me because heâs a racist, abusive asshole. It didnât have anything to do with you.â
Deep down she knows heâs right, but itâs hard to ignore the sirens in her head screaming at her to push him away, to shut him out for his own good. She blows out a breath, letting some of the guilt and the tension leave her shoulders. All sheâs left with is the numbness, but Lucasâ warm hand in hers is thawing it ever so slowly. She was right â it is nice. And it isnât even entirely romantic, she thinks. Itâs an anchor to reality, something to hold on to so that she doesnât float away in this new world heâs brought right to her doorstep.
After a long minute, she looks up at him, a new question in mind. Something thatâs been bothering her ever since she first thought about it. âHow do youâŠadjust?â she asks. âLike, do things ever go back to normal?â
What she really means is will the nightmares stop? but she knows heâll understand. His reassuring expression from earlier fades away and he shifts in his swing, his hand still laced with hers in between them. âI donât know,â he finally says. âAfter El sacrificed herself last year, and after everything we went through â it was hard. I guess it did get better for a little while. Sometimes I went a few days without thinking about it at all, and without waking up from nightmares. But this kind of stuff can really mess a person up, you know? It sucks.â He lets out a breathy laugh. âSorry. Thatâs probably not making you feel any better.â
She shrugs. âAt least itâs the truth.â
âIt shouldnât be, though,â he sighs. He squeezes her hand again reassuringly and a rush of warmth soothes Maxâs frazzled nerves. âItâll be fine. Weâll be fine. Really. I had my friends to lean on back then, and now you have us to lean on.â
Max grimaces. âI donât think I have Mike.â
Lucas rolls his eyes, some lightheartedness returning to the atmosphere with the gesture. âYou will eventually. I promise. And El, too â theyâll both love you. They just have to get to know you.â
Her heart lifts hopefully at his words. âYou think so?â
âI know so.â
To her immense surprise she finds herself smiling at the prospect, and Lucas grins. Itâs almost startling to see. âThatâs better,â he says with an air of satisfaction, like heâs just fulfilled a task he was set.
âIt feels better,â she admits. She glances down at their joined hands and decides on one more moment of truth, just for him, the first person to start breaking down her walls. After a beat of mustering up her courage, she says, âI like holding your hand.â
Lucas beams even wider, if itâs actually possible. âThatâs awesome,â he says, his enthusiasm so, so endearing. âAnd great, and fantastic, and spectacular. You know what?â
âWhat?â
âI like holding your hand too. Like, a lot.â
She laughs, nodding even as her cheeks flush warm. âAwesome. Iâm glad weâre in agreement.â
Lucas glances around the park for a moment, still smiling, and when he looks back at her, thereâs new spirit in his eyes. âWeâre going to be okay, Max. You know that, right?â
It feels like the truth. She takes a deep breath full of crisp autumn air and as she exhales it to the sky, a little bit more of her icy dread and worry and fear melts away. âYeah.â Inhale, exhale. âI know.â
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#my first fic in like two months?? what??#i don't know WHAT you're talking about#anyways i've had this sitting foreverrrr i just haven't been able to get it up#but it's here now#on my empty blog lmao love that#stranger things#st#lumax#max mayfield#lucas sinclair#anna puts words together#also WHAT happened to the line breaks here??#like the lil divider in the paragraphs#where did it go
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