Chapter Text
MAX
Max thought there was truly nothing better than a fall day. One where the sky was pale grey and the air was just chilly enough to need a sweater or hoodie. On those days, she could ride her skateboard the most without feeling gross and sweaty.
Today, the first day of Thanksgiving break, was one of those perfect fall days. The sky above was an endless pale grey and the air was just cold enough to need a sweater. It was, in Max's opinion, absolutely perfect riding conditions.
As Max rode up and down her street, she found a part of herself wanting more and more speed. Her need for speed usually wasn't a problem- but it was now, particularly because she wanted to learn how to do a specific trick; one which required a pretty steady amount of speed she couldn't achieve on her own.
She knew she ran the risk of fucking up and falling, but that was alright. She could take care of herself- nothing more than a little patchwork and she'd be on her way. She'd done it before many times.
She figured it'd be as simple as riding up to the tip of her road (given the street was made on a hill) so she could ride down and at least attempt the trick.
The wind, almost out of nowhere, picked up as soon as she reached the highest point of the road, blowing copper strands of hair all over. If Max were less stubborn and more intuitive, she might've taken that as a sign to back off- to take a moment to stop and rethink she was about to do.
But, no. Of course not.
It started off simply enough, the rumble of her skateboard wheels traveling through her legs and into her chest, buzzing around in her ribcage as she traveled down the hill. She quickly began gaining speed, but it wasn't enough to worry her.
She'd road down that very strip of asphalt many times before- so she didn't think she had anything to be worried about given she was familiar enough with it.
Except then she felt it.
A pebble. Something so small, so unnoticeable.
Only, when she hit it, it was no longer a minuscule part of the road. Now, it was something that caused her to immediately lose all control, for her wheels locking up and for her to be flung off the board's deck.
It's odd how slowly she seemed to fall. How suddenly, she was acutely aware of how thick her jeans weren't and how thin her sweater happened to be.
And then, she made contact with the asphalt below.
At first, she didn't entirely register the pain. But then, all at once like a downpour, she felt pure, blindingly white hurt wrap itself around her entire body- specifically on her ankle, her palms, and her elbow. She let out a deep groan, feeling as though all the air in her lungs had been completely punched from her chest.
She tried to get up as quickly as possible, even though everything in her was screaming to just stay down. Quickly, she found out she couldn't get up- Not without that overwhelming white pain shooting through her nerves. It was her ankle.
"Fuck!" Max hissed, feeling tears begin to well in her eyes, making her vision blurry. She knew what she'd see if she cuffed her jeans. It's too early for bruising, but she was positive she'd see swelling already.
Her hands- ruthlessly skinned when she fell to the ground- were red with tiny speckles of blood and dirt contrasting against her pale skin, which she wiped on the leg of her jeans.
Her house wasn't even that far away. In fact, she'd fallen almost perfectly in front of it. She figured she could probably force herself up... Accept the headache she now had was brutal and just behind her eyes, making it painful to even look around.
In her fifteen years, she wasn't sure she'd ever experienced this level of pain. The way it tightened her chest to the point where she could hardly breathe, to the way she swore she could taste blood.
Her mind was temporarily taken away from her throbbing ankle and road-skinned palms when she heard a familiar scoff. "I thought the whole point of skateboarding was to not fall."
Billy.
Suddenly, Max could feel her heart pulsing rapidly in her ear and at the back of her throat. She didn't need this. She couldn't take this-
"F-Fuck off," She hissed, trying her best to hid the hurt in her voice as she attempts to get up. She wasn't about to seem like she needed help- because she didn't; especially not from someone as terrible as Billy.
Billy watched from the porch, unlit cigarette perched between his lips. He was smirking. Fucking smirking.
Max, although she tried her best, couldn't bear to stand on her ankle longer than a second. Billy, for a moment, almost felt bad for her. He could tell she was in pain, but that wasn't his problem.
Her ankle couldn't bear her weight, and so she all but fell back down to the ground. It was more graceful this time, landing on her bum. Her lips pressed together to a thin line for a moment, eyes squeezed shut as she felt pain again wash over her.
Then, so quickly she almost didn't register it, she heard Billy's heavy steps slowly come near her.
She opened her impossibly blue eyes with a harsh glare, one sent directly to Billy.
"Just say the magic words." Billy said, retrieving his lighter from his jacket pocket. He was willing to help her- not because he was a good person, but, instead, because he was unwilling to get the shit beaten out of him by his dad for not helping her.
Billy lit his cig, taking a slow drag as he gaze down at Max, still with that shit-eating grin pulled to his lips.
If it hadn't physically hurt to roll her eyes, Max absolutely would have. She needs to ask for help. Fuck. There was no other way around this. She couldn't properly walk, and she definitely couldn't imagine crawling across the street to get to her house.
Through tightly clenched teeth, Max finally spoke with dread lacing each word. "Would you please help me up?"
And just like that, she got her wish. Billy bowed down, picking Max up with such ease, it was almost surprising. He wasn't exactly careful as he did so, earning a soft hiss from Max as he lifted her from the ground, carrying her bridal style.
His cigarette dangled from the corner of his mouth, and Max did just about everything in her power to focus on something that wasn't him. Because she hated this feeling. This vulnerability; this weakness. It was everything Max tried her best to stray away from, but now, those two feelings were completely overwhelming- almost suffocatingly so.
BILLY
Billy almost wanted to laugh at how miserable Max looked, but he knew that'd probably only piss her off more.
He struggled to hold her only for a moment when he was opening the door, and for a moment, Max looked like she was terrified he might drop her. And that, that look was enough to cause Billy to breathe a laugh through his nose.
"Would you just calm down? I'm not gonna drop you." He muttered, front teeth biting down on his cigarette so he didn't drop it. Max replied only with a slow huff and a forced half-attempt at an eye roll. Maxine Mayfield, Billy thinks, is scraggly and mistrustful as a feral cat, and as ungrateful as one, too. She gives Billy this defensive glare but keeps whatever she was about to say to herself, likely for the better.
MAX
Once inside the house, Billy set her down on the couch, causing her to harshly bite down on the flesh inside her cheek to keep from crying out in pain. She could tell Billy was, again, hiding a smirk. What a sadistic asshole.
"Aren'tcha gonna say thank you?" Billy asked with that stupid, punchable smile on his face.
Max, as expected, stayed quiet. She needed to ice and wrap her ankle, clean the scrapes on her hands and elbow, and take some pain killer as soon as possible, but she knew all too well that she couldn't do it on her own. Her ankle hurts far too much for her to even consider getting up to go to the kitchen for ice, then to the bathroom for the first aid kit. And fuck, she still had to get her skateboard from outside.
Billy tossed the tv remote in her general direction, earning another harsh glare from Max as it hit against her thigh. Why he always had to be so insufferable to be around, she didn't know.
BILLY
Billy was no dummy when it came to how injured he was sure Max must've been. The fact she asked for help was more than enough proof to tell him that. He also knew she was as tough as hell. He'd seen her fall before, and almost always, she gets back up and begins again, which only provided further proof of how fucked up she was.
A part of him even felt the tiniest bit bad for her. He knew she needed time to heal, and that she'd probably not be able to ride her board for at least a week- which essentially ruined most of her day plans for that Thanksgiving break.
Billy left the living room when he heard the tv turn on. He ended up in the kitchen, grabbing himself a beer. He wondered how bad her injuries were. It wasn't exactly like he could just ask her and she'd tell him, but they were bad apparently enough to cause her to do something she completely despises; which is asking for help.
MAX
Max tried closing her eyes, focusing on her breathing instead of the biting pain she had in her ankle. Her attempts at distraction, however, didn't work. They only led to her clenching down on her jaw, which just worsened her headache.
"Do you think you need to go to the hospital?"
Max opened her eyes, but she didn't look at Billy. She, instead, kept them locked onto whatever commercial the tv was playing. "No."
The thought of going to the hospital seemed like it'd take so much time and that it'd cause so much unnecessary bullshit to happen. She knew how to take care of herself, which was maybe the worst part of it all. She knew what she needed, but she just couldn't do it.
In her peripheral vision, she could see Billy take a slow sip of (what she assumed to be) beer.
Maybe the worst part of it all was that Susan and Neil weren't expected to be home until Wednesday- two days from now. Neil had a business trip out of state, which Susan invited herself along to saying she just wants to " spend some time with Neil" which really meant she wanted to make sure he didn't cheat. Both parents being gone was just fine with Max and Billy... Until now.
Now, all Max wanted was for her mom to be back. Susan, although sometimes unbearable to be around with her constant, overly fussy nitpicking, was pretty incredible when it came to care-taking. Although she could be a little pushy when it came to checking up on Max and how she felt, she always knew what to do to help her feel a little better.
She didn't want to have to call her mom... But it was beginning to look like she'd have to.
"Can you get the phone for me?"
BILLY
Billy frowned, eyes thinning slightly as he stared at Max. "You have to be kidding me. Who are you gonna call?"
He didn't need an answer. He knew why she wanted the phone- so she could call her mom- but he just wanted her to say it. Because fuck , it's the first time Billy doesn't have his dad constantly barking in his ear and Max already wants them back.
"You know who." Max muttered, still sending a cold scowl his way.
Fuck.
There wasn't an atom in Billy's being that wanted Susan and (particularly) Neil back. Hell, they'd hardly been gone three hours and Max already wanted them back.
"Don't be stupid, Max. You know Neil would be pissed if he has to drive back here."
MAX
For a moment, Max could feel tears just begin to prick her eyes, but she blinked them away before they had the chance to become anything more. Billy was right. Neil would probably take her board away, too. He's been looking for a reason to, anyway, saying its 'Not something girls should be doing.'
"How bad are you even hurt?" Billy asked. His tone sounded intentionally dismissive, though the look in his eye showed genuine interest.
"I dunno, I just hurt my ankle and elbow." She said. And god, she felt like he was looking right through her. His heavy-lidded gaze was so strong, it almost made it feel hard to breathe. And then he started walking closer.
He set his beer down on the coffee table, then made a motion with his hand as if to say 'Well, show me.'
Max tensed her jaw for a moment before slowly- carefully as to not cause any more pain- rolling up her right sweater sleeve.
Her elbow was red and a bit swollen, with a relatively small cut and some smudged blood surrounding it. It wasn't anything too bad, but it could use some ice and a bandaid.
Billy seemed to chew over what he was looking at, eyes growing clouded with thought. Self consciously, Max began tugging the sleeve down again.
"How bad is your ankle?"
Max internally groaned. Showing him her ankle was going to be a bitch and a half, given it involved taking her shoe and sock off, and then rolling her jean up- which all sounded incredibly painful.
Billy didn't wait for her to answer. He grabbed his beer, setting it to the floor so it didn't tip over before pulling the coffee table before her. She knew what he wanted her to do, but that didn't make it any easier to be done.
Billy looked at her expectantly, crossing his arms over his chest.
Max took a deep breath before slowly setting her leg down on the table. If Susan was there, she'd probably be muttering on about gross it is to have shoes on the coffee table, and how she's gonna be the one who ends up cleaning it. Sitting forward some, Max reached for the cuff of her jean and slowly, painstakingly tugged it up.
She didn't even need to take her sock of shoe off for Billy to see how bad it was. The skin surrounding her normally incredibly fair ankle was now red and angry looking, already considerably swollen compared to her other ankle.
"Well... fuck." Billy mumbled.
BILLY
Billy knew it'd be bad, but he wasn't expecting it to look so painful. It wasn't anything terrible enough to warrant a trip to the E.R., but it was going to take some time and care to properly heal. And fuck, this verified what he was dreading. Now, if he wanted to keep his head on top of his shoulders, he'd have to take care of the girl who hated him most.
He didn't say anything else before walking off to the kitchen. As he did so, though, he could feel Max's gaze on his back, watching him.
Sometimes, it was strange to Billy just how much Max seemed to hate him. But other times, he could see why she hated being around him so much. He was mean and an asshole- but it was just so genuinely hard to stop being such a mean ass. Still, though, he did feel guilty about it. About all the words he's spat at her, about all the times he reminded her that she wasn't actually his sister- Because he knew his words hurt her.
Sometimes, thinking back on those moments, he feels a genuine pang in his heart because he knows it's his fault she hates him so thoroughly, but the thought of ever apologizing for his actions makes him cringe.
Grabbing a plastic sandwich bag, Billy walked to the freezer and began popping ice cube after ice cube into the bag. Zipping the sandwich bag up, Billy grabbed a paper towel before making his way back to the living room.
Again, Max didn't look at him, keeping her gaze fixed on the tv.
"Here." Billy tossed the bag of ice over to Max, allowing for it land just near her.
When she looked at the paper towel covered bag of ice, she frowned. Genuinely. Like the fact Billy willingly got her ice was completely out of her realm of conceptualization. And that look- that look of shock- hurt.
MAX
She knew she should say thanks. This was probably one of the only kind things Billy has ever done for her- Besides that one time he let her eat McDonald's in his car (which only really happened because he was stoned and wanted to get himself something, which resulted in him buying her something as well). But she didn't even get the chance to do so, given Billy walked off- probably to his room.
Max slowly placed the bag of ice on her ankle, eyes immediately welling from the pain.
Within only five minutes of the ice being on her ankle, the pain seemed to slowly drift off, becoming more and more distant. Still there, definitely still there, but more manageable.
As for her elbow and palms, she figured she'd just have to wait until her ankle was properly numbed before attempting to go into the bathroom to sanitize her wounds. Which was fine. Even though they still burned, she knew she could wait.
BILLY
It wasn't a little while longer before Billy came out to check on Max. He, unsurprisingly, found her in the same spot he'd left her.
When he returned, though, he had a bottle of ibuprofen and the first aid kit from the bathroom. Again, Max flashed that half-surprised, possibly half-impressed face she'd made earlier, and Billy almost wanted to roll his eyes.
He wasn't doing this because she actually needed his help- he was doing this because he didn't want to get the fuck beaten out of him... Or at least that's what he told himself. It's easier to do things when you think they're self-serving.
Staying put near the doorway, he tossed the bottle of red, circular pills over to her, then the kit. "Take two of these."
He'd been intentionally keeping his distance- almost subconsciously so. After he carried her into the house, he really would prefer to refrain from being that close to her again.
"No drink?" Max asked as she picked the bottle up.
As much as Billy would find it fit for her to dry swallow the pills, he decided to give her something of a break.
"The beer I set down earlier. You can drink that." Billy would never willingly share one of his beer's with the redhead, but given it was already half-drunk, probably flat, incredibly cheap, and nearing room-temp, he honestly didn't mind it this time.
MAX
Max's face flashed with an unreadable expression- a mix of confusion and almost-laughter. Before she could protest any further, Billy had turned away, back to the kitchen.
Max considered just taking the pills dry, but she already felt like shit, and she knew the feeling of pills dryly slugging down her esophagus would only worsen the matter.
With a sigh, she shook two tiny pills into the palm of her scrapped up hand and reached over, grabbing the brown bottle carefully. Before she really allowed herself time to think about what she was doing, she took a swig of the beer before popping the pills into her mouth, swallowing quickly with a big gulp- as not to taste the liquid- before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
It tasted just as grossly as she expected it to. Of course, she'd tried beer before- with her dad in California, Sam- but this just further proved the idea that beer was disgusting. The yeasty taste lingered on her tongue far longer than she'd have preferred.
In the end, though, she had to admit. She was genuinely surprised at how decent Billy was acting. She figured it was because he was a selfish asshole, but still. The fact he brought her the shit she needed without having to be asked made her think of Billy as more of a person and less like someone Max wished had a toe tag in the morgue.
Maybe, Max thought, this really was a time for change.