Work Text:
September, 2007
Lucia heard the bullies before she saw them: The sniggering, the clamouring of deep, cruel voices that jeered and jabbed with the intensity of a kitchen knife, even though their words weren't directed at her at that moment. Then, before she could make her escape, they rounded the corner, and immediately, one of them grabbed her by the collar of her shirt, slamming her against the wall.
Gasping, Lucia flailed under the bully's grip, recoiling at the smell of cigarettes on his breath as his cronies burst out laughing. They can't have been much older than fourteen- her middle school only went up to the eighth grade- but they had at least six inches of height on her, and were as wide as she was tall, especially the brute who had just caused her whiplash. He glowered at her, unsmiling, unlike his two friends. "Lunch money. Now."
"I..." Lucia struggled to breathe under his burly hand. "I... I don't bring money. I pack lunch."
The brute snorted, a glob of his snot landing on Lucia's nose. She tried her hardest not to puke. "Yeah, fucking right." He pressed his hands tighter around her throat, beginning to cut off her air supply now. "Nobody packs lunch here. Give me your money."
Lucia wondered if the bully was being intentionally dense, or whether he genuinely didn't believe her. Either way, she was in deep trouble. Only the third day of school, and she was already being picked on?
Before she could form a response- and just before she felt her head going fuzzy- she heard a voice, high-pitched and irate, yell from the other end of the long corridor: "Get your hands off her!"
In unison, the bullies all turned their heads towards the noise. The brute gripping Lucia's neck loosened his grip a little, distracted, giving her head enough leeway to tilt in the general direction of the sound. What she saw surprised her greatly.
It was a boy who looked around her age, dressed in a blazer and trousers. The trousers had neat creases in them, as though they had just recently been pressed with an iron. His face was slim and his brunette hair sat messily on top of his head like it was there by mistake. What struck Lucia most, though, were his eyes- dark, so dark that she couldn't make out their true colour from here. Brown, if she had to guess, though they looked closer to black.
"Look what we have here," the bully to Lucia's attacker's left sneered. "It's the runt's boyfriend."
Undeterred, the boy straightened himself, though he was still a head shorter than the bullies. In fact, he looked around Lucia's height, and his weight couldn't have been too far from hers, either- he was too slim, like he was made of less muscle than bone. Yet when he spoke, he spoke confidently, and without hesitation: "Only weak boys prey on girls. You are all scumbags. Low-life cowards."
In an instant, Lucia's attacker released her neck, grabbing her would-be rescuer by the shoulders and pushing him up against the wall next to her. She heard their breath catch in their throats at the exact same time as he caught her eye in her peripheral vision, a hint of panic flashing across his dark irises for a split-second. The bully leaned in close to him, practically nose-to-nose. "I think I know who you are," he growled. "You're the little Jew boy they're talking about, aren't you?"
Lucia inhaled sharply, but the boy didn't take his eyes off of his opponent- that's what the bully must be to him, she thought, as she noticed something resembling competitiveness causing his eyebrows to furrow. "I prefer to be known by what I was named, rather than my religion," he replied amicably, as though this were simply a picnic. "And my name is Maxwell Jacob Friedman."
"Of course the Jew's called Jacob," one of the other bullies snorted, ruffling his dirty-blond hair and smirking. "Textbook."
"It's Maxwell Jacob," Maxwell replied. "But please let's not be formal. Call me Max."
The attacker pressed Max against the wall even harder, his expression twisting cruelly. "Well, Max, are you going to be a miser like the other losers who follow your false God, or are you gonna give us your lunch money instead of this squirt?"
Without even blinking, Max dipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a twenty, which was immediately grabbed by the bully's second friend, who regarded him like he was nothing more than a stain on the sole of one of his leather boots. "There," Max said, and Lucia was amazed at how even his tone still sounded. "Now you have money. You can leave us alone now."
"A generous Jew? I'll be damned." The attacker released Max's shoulders, stepping back with a flick of his long hair, stil glowering at Max and Lucia with his cronies. "Same time tomorrow, losers. Come on, guys, let's leave the Israelite with his little girlfriend." The bullies all turned away, still laughing to themselves as the blond one took the twenty from his friend and made a big show of pretending to spit on it. Lucia watched them recede into the distance, feeling the adrenaline leave her system, replacing her blood with liquid lead.
"You good?" Max asked her, his voice now an octave lower than before. Though it wasn't a particularly caring tone of voice, Lucia took it as him attempting to be kind, trying to look out for her.
"I think so," she replied, not sure what else to say. She cleared her throat. "You're... you're not just going to let them say and do all that to you again tomorrow, right?"
Max sniffed, folding his arms. For the first time in the past fifteen minutes, he looked uncertain. "Well, it doesn't seem as though I have a choice," he said. "If I report them, they'll beat me up for being a snitch. I'll just have to deal with them."
Lucia didn't know what to say back to that, so instead, she awkwardly shuffled from foot to foot. "I should probably get going to class," she said nervously.
"What class have you got?"
"English."
Max smiled. "Oh, same. Wanna walk there together? Also, I didn't catch your name."
Lucia felt as though he'd just fired several verbal bullets at her, though managed to inwardly compose herself. "Lucia Clearwater. And yeah, that would be cool."
"Lucia." Max tested her name out, saying it carefully, as though it were a mouthful of a new food he was trying. "Pretty name."
Lucia felt herself blush. "Thank you... Maxwell."
They set off down the corridor together, Max raising an eyebrow at her. "You can call me Max, you know."
Lucia shrugged, pressing a palm to the side of her face in an effort to further control the redness developing there. "Well, I like the longer version," she replied.
"Fair enough." Maxwell smiled at her again, and Lucia smiled back. Something had passed between the two of them that she didn't quite recognise yet, but that she hoped she'd see clearly one day. And, in that moment, Maxwell Friedman became her best friend.
July, 2010
It was the day before their middle school's eighth grade graduation ceremony. Lucia was sat at her desk, meticulously applying paint to her graduation cap; it was tradition to decorate the top of them in most high schools and colleges, a tradition that had been passed down to their middle school. A pack of half-eaten Reese's Pieces lay discarded on the desk next to a bottle of Diet Coke that had almost gone flat. She'd been here for nearly four hours.
"LUCY!" Her mom yelled up the stairs, her voice shrill and sharp as usual. "Max is coming up!"
Oh, is he now, Lucia thought to herself. "Cool!" she shouted back, listening to the heavy footsteps of her friend walking up the stairs, his pace measured. Max never ran anywhere unless it was an emergency.
He poked his head around the door, the top of his mouth curled up in a smirk. He'd grown considerably in the past couple of years and, though he was still shorter than average, he'd begun going to the gym at the start of seventh grade, beginning to put on some muscle to compensate. His hair, too, was cut more neatly. "You're still working on that cap, huh?"
Lucia shrugged. "Graduation's tomorrow and it's not finished yet. Have you not been working on yours?"
Max pushed her door until it was only an inch open- though Lucia's mom didn't mind Maxwell, she certainly did mind the idea of a boy being in Lucia's bedroom with the door fully closed. He perched on the edge of her desk, careful to avoid the assorted paint pots Lucia had placed on the table. "I'd rather not draw attention to myself," he said simply. "You know. With all the bullying and crap."
Since they began middle school, the bullying towards Maxwell had stopped for a short while into seventh grade, but had started again when a Holocaust survivor had visited their History class, mainly because some stupid people believed the devastating event had never happened. Maxwell had spoken up about it, and had paid a hefty price. "Oh," Lucia replied sympathetically. "I'm sorry, Maxwell."
He shrugged. "Don't sweat it. What're you decorating yours like, anyway?"
Lucia lifted up her half-finished cap to show him. "It's supposed to be the album cover of 'Bad'," she explained, "but instead of 'bad', it'll end up saying 'grad'. Oh, and it'll say 'Lucia Clearwater' on the side instead of 'Michael Jackson'."
Maxwell raised an eyebrow. "Wonder where that idea came from, huh?"
Lucia averted her gaze for a moment, suddenly feeling solemn. "Yeah, I wonder." Michael Jackson had been her favourite singer of all time; she'd even met him once, at a concert when she was only seven years old. She still had the photo to prove it. He'd died only a month ago, and the loss had hit Lucia hard- despite never knowing him personally, he'd had a large influence over her life that couldn't be denied.
Noticing her change in mood, Maxwell rested a hand on her shoulder. Lucia was wearing a vest top, and she could feel the calluses on his palms on her bare skin from where he'd spent hours at the pull-up bar. "You're honoring him in a great way," he said quietly, "while also expressing yourself. That's really brave of you."
Lucia managed a smile, placing the cap back down on the table with great care. "Thanks, Maxwell," she smiled, blinking the tears away from her eyes. She thought of something else to talk about and managed to change the subject: "So, do you want to go to McDonald's after the graduation ceremony? Dave says he can get us free Big Macs." David, Lucia's older brother, was ten years older than her, already an assistant manager at the fast-food restaurant just a half-hour drive away from their school.
Max pursed his lips, and Lucia could tell he was only pretending to think. "Hmm... I guess taking one day off from healthy snacks wouldn't be a bad thing," he said, finally smiling. "Especially if it's free."
Lucia grinned. "Damn right, it won't be a bad thing."
December, 2011
Plainview High always put on a Christmas Festival in December, spanning over the course of three days. Lucia, being a junior member of the Student Council, was therefore expected to advertise it- and advertise it she did. Right now, she was walking around the school with posters and tape, sticking them to the wall at random so they were easily seen. It was lunch period, so the halls were blissfully quiet; even in the cold winter weather, the student body preferred to walk over to the local mall for lunch, as it was only a fifteen minute walk away.
As Lucia taped a poster to the door of one of the Math classes, she heard a chittering noise to her left, followed by a low whistle. Something, she wasn't sure what, dropped through her like a stone, making her stomach do a backflip that wasn't welcome at all. Nevertheless, she continued on her mission, taking out another poster to stick to the next classroom door.
"Nice legs, Clearwater!"
A chill went through Lucia's spine. Still, she attempted to ignore whoever was shouting at her, ripping off another line of tape with her teeth. Some of it broke off into her mouth, and she resisted the urge to spit.
"Hey! Don't ignore me, bitch." Suddenly, the voice was closer. Too close. Slowly, Lucia swivelled around, only to be shoved backwards, through the door she'd just taped a poster onto and into the empty classroom, her hip smacking into the teacher's desk with a painful thud as she dropped all her posters. Wincing, she attempted to straighten herself, her irritated glare faltering as she noticed her attacker.
It was Dev Crawley, the captain of the football team. A senior. More importantly, he was nearly three times her size, and had her trapped in a classroom with just the two of them.
Lucia's heart did an involuntary jump, causing palpatations in her chest that made her start to sweat. "The hell do you want?" she managed to choke out, her voice strangled.
"You ignored my compliment." Dev sneered, and Lucia managed to catch sight of his teeth, yellowing and rotting, beneath his lips. She fought not to gag. "Pretty girls like you shouldn't ignore compliments; makes it look like you're all selfish bitches."
Lucia gripped the teacher's desk, her knuckles turning white. Dev was relatively close to her- there was only about six inches of space between them- but he hadn't tried anything overly nasty, yet. Keep him talking, Lucia! "Didn't sound like a compliment to me," she replied, copying Maxwell's technique of flattening her voice to sound more factual, certain. There was a pang in her chest as his face swam around at the back of her mind, which she tried to ignore. "Sounded more like a catcall."
"What's the difference?" Dev drew nearer, and now Lucia could see the colour of his eyes- sickly green, like cat vomit. He placed a meaty hand on her shoulder, his grip growing tight, and Lucia cringed. "You still ignored me. I hate when you play hard-to-get, you know..."
He was leaning in now, his spare hand creeping up Lucia's leg, close to reaching under her skirt. She recoiled at his touch, trying to push him away, but his face twisted more as he held her still, drawing towards her face. He's going to kiss me, Lucia realised, feeling her insides shrivel up. He's going to-
"What the FUCK do you think you're doing?!"
Startled, Dev jumped back from Lucia, giving her a clear view of Maxwell, standing at the door, his expression thunderous. Inwardly, Lucia felt like she was about to collapse to the floor in relief. She tried to say her friend's name, but no words came out.
Unfortunately, Dev chose that moment to speak for her: "She was asking for it," he growled, pointing a thick finger at Lucia accusingly. "She practically begged for it."
Lucia finally found her voice at that, staring at Dev with disbelief. "No," she replied, shocked at how calm her voice sounded. "I ignored your catcall, so you decided you would teach me a lesson about it."
Dev swivelled back towards her, thunderstruck, as Maxwell's mouth hung open for just a second, before he shook his head to clear the cobwebs that had seemingly built there. "So you," he said to Dev, his voice slow- slow was dangerous, with Maxwell. "You, an eighteen-year-old senior, decided to teach a fifteen-year-old freshman a lesson by attempting to rape her in an empty classroom?!" His voice gathered pace and volume as he spoke until he shouted the last few words so loudly, it reverberated in Lucia's skull. "The fuck is wrong with you?!"
Dev glowered at him. "Age doesn't matter, runt."
Immediately, Maxwell stepped forwards, swinging his right hand hard into Dev's face. Momentarily stunned, Dev staggered back, and Lucia dived to her left to avoid his body colliding with hers. Maxwell didn't stop, though- he advanced, jerking his leg up to kick Dev directly between the legs. Instantaneously, Dev dropped to the floor, wheezing, the air taken out of him as he clutched where Maxwell had landed the blow, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. Without another word, Maxwell offered his hand to Lucia, who took it without even pausing to think. Together, they sprinted out of the classroom, Maxwell practically dragging her along- though he barely ever ran, and though Lucia was second-best at track and field in her gym class, he was still far too fast for her to keep up with.
"Maxwell..." Lucia's voice came out as a wheeze as the two of them ran out into the woods behind the school. "I... can't... breathe..."
Finally, Maxwell slowed down, relenquishing his grip on Lucia's hand and pausing to catch his own breath. He turned to face her, his expression wrought with concern, his dark eyes somehow even more shadowy than normal. Lucia took in his expression; took in his steady stance, his broad shoulders, his set jaw, and realised she could barely see the Maxwell of sixth grade anymore. Without her even realising, he'd begun growing into a man. A man who'd somehow just rescued her.
From nowhere, she felt herself sniff, a tear rolling down her cheek. Without even thinking, she lurched forwards, wrapping her arms around her friend, sobbing into his shoulder. Maxwell seemed to hesitate for a moment, his body stiffening, before the tension left him, and he embraced Lucia back, stroking the back of her head, his fingers running through her auburn hair like a quiet whisper.
July, 2014
High school graduation. Lucia couldn't believe it had gone by so quickly; couldn't believe that she'd managed to even survive high school, what with not only her traumatic experience in freshman year, but also with everything else- the strict social hierarchy, the demand to keep up with exams, and much more besides. Yet, here she was, straightening out her graduation gown for the fifteenth time, sitting nervously on a plastic chair outside in the hot Plainview sun, waiting for her turn to walk up to the stage. They were calling the names in reverse alphabetical order, so she was going to be one of the last ones to appear.
Maxwell sat beside her, his plain cap in his hands instead of on his head, his jaw set. High school also hadn't been very easy for him- the bullying from middle school seemed to have carried over, on and off, into high school, following him like a shadow. Nevertheless, he had at least found some other friends in the football team- once Dev the rapist had left, of course- and he was now even stronger than he was at the end of middle school, though his gown covered his body from neck to foot, making it difficult to tell. Through everything, him and Lucia had remained close- something she was immensely thankful for.
Their principal thanked the student currently on stage- a short, slight girl called Chen Froder- and leaned into the microphone, his otherwise quiet voice carrying easily across the field: "Friedman, Maxwell!"
Maxwell winked at Lucia and stood up, sauntering over to the stage with confidence, despite some whispers from other students. One of his friends in the football team gave him a fist-bump as he walked past, climbing onto the stage with ease. Maxwell shook the headmaster's hand and received his diploma with an easy smile, looking over where the photographer was snapping a picture of the occasion, before returning to his seat, giving Lucia a wide grin as the next student received the same attention.
Only six more names were called before "Clearwater, Lucia!" was summoned to the stage. Attempting to control her shaky hands, Lucia stood up and walked over to the stage with wide steps, nearly tripping up the stairs before catching herself and slowing down. Somebody tittered, but she paid them no attention. She walked over to the principal, shaking his hand, and received her own diploma, turning towards the camera and attempting to smile, though she wasn't quite sure if she'd succeeded. She felt her shoulders sag with relief as soon as she returned to her seat, pulling her cap down a little to shade her face from both the sun and the people around her.
"Hey." Maxwell nudged her, his voice quiet. "You okay?"
Lucia looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "I think so. That was really nerve-wracking, to be honest."
Maxwell looked left and right, as though worried somebody might be watching him, and lowered his arm, finding Lucia's hand between their seats and squeezing it in his own. "You got through it," he murmured. "You did it."
Maxwell's hand was warm, and there were even more calluses there now than there were in the eight grade. Lucia felt like she had stopped breathing; she'd never held hands with anybody in this way before. Nevertheless, she allowed it, squeezing his hand back with a smile on her face. "We both got through it."
February, 2015
It was the day before Valentines' day, and Maxwell had somehow convinced Lucia to come and watch an independent professional wrestling show with him.
Lucia vaguely remembered watching the WWF in her early childhood. Her brother had liked it more than her, though, and once, he'd managed to drag her with him to come and meet Edge and Christian, his favourite tag team, when she was probably only six or seven years old. It hadn't particularly interested her all that much, so she didn't go again, but she still had the picture of her and Dave next to his heroes somewhere in a box in her room, gathering dust.
Why Maxwell was so keen on Lucia coming here, she had no clue. Nonetheless, here she was, sat near the front row next to- his mother? Startled, she turned to face Nina Friedman, her mouth half-open. When did she get here? "Nina?"
"Hi, dear," Nina replied, her voice soft and kind as always. She had Maxwell's facial structure, and it was difficult not to see him when she looked at her. "Did Maxwell not tell you I was coming?"
"Uhh... no," Lucia replied, utterly bemused. "I've not seen him for the past twenty minutes, actually. He told me he was getting a drink."
Nina's lip curled upwards like she was trying not to smile. "Well, that's a mystery, then. Let's hope he gets here before the first match starts."
Lucia nodded in agreement, glancing at the empty seat to her right. She frowned a little. Maxwell was taking an awful long time to get those drinks, and the show was about to start- the ring announcer was climbing into the squared circle, straightening his bow-tie as he stood in the centre. He was so desperate to come here, and now he wasn't even making an appearance?
"Welcome to Create a Pro Wrestling!" the ring announcer said into his microphone, his voice echoing loudly in the small room; Lucia had to resist the urge to cover her ears. "The following match is set for one fall..."
"Where is he?" Lucia murmured under her breath. "Surely he'd be here by no-"
She was abruptly cut off when she saw the first two participating wrestlers walk out from behind the curtain. The first guy, she didn't even recognise, but the second...
"Introducing the participants, first!" the announcer said with fervour. "The team of Joe Bronson..." He drew out Bronson's name on purpose, as though he knew Lucia was sat in the audience in anticipation- "...and Maxwell Jacob Friedman!"
Maxwell was strutting towards the ring. Lucia's friend. Maxwell! Lucia couldn't help but stare in shock. She knew he'd been going out on quite a few weekends over the past year or so, but he only told her he was going to the gym. Well, clearly, he had been going to the gym- Lucia could see as such. She tried not to blush, knowing damn well his mother was sat beside her. "So that's why you're here!" she said to Nina quietly, who simply nodded and smiled, her eyes proudly focused on her son.
Maxwell climbed into the ring, spreading his arms out wide and dropping to the mat on his knees, his mouth twitching upwards in that smirk Lucia knew so well. He stood up again, strutting to the corner and looking out to the audience. Finally, he noticed Lucia, giving her the tiniest of waves as his expression softened ever-so-slightly. Lucia felt her face begin to heat up, but smiled and waved back anyway as his attention shifted back towards the entrance, where their opponents were making their appearance.
He was training to be a pro wrestler and never told me? Lucia didn't know whether she should be excited or angry. Right now, she simply felt flustered. She wasn't sure she'd ever seen that much of her friend before, minus at the pool, but even then, the last time they went swimming had to have been nearly a year ago now. There was an odd feeling in her gut, like someone had put her intestines into a blender. She did her best to ignore it, but Jesus.
She watched Maxwell wrestle with rapt attention, trying to ignore the fact she could see him, and cheered alongside everyone else when he emerged victorious alongside Bronson. But Maxwell wasn't done in the ring, seemingly- no, he was beckoning towards the announcer, asking him to give him his microphone, to which he begrudgingly obliged. Maxwell held up a finger, the crowd slowly falling silent as he began to speak.
"My name," he announced, slightly out of breath but still confident, "is Maxwell Jacob Friedman." He elongated each word as though the gathered crowd were schoolchildren in a classroom of his own making; Lucia couldn't help but feel like she was being patronised. "And what you all just saw proof of there... is that I'm better than your favourites, better than the vets. I'm better than you, all of you, and you know it." Maxwell dropped the mic with a flick of his wrist and sauntered back out of the ring, much to the chagrin of the crowd, who were now beginning to boo him. Bronson followed cautiously.
"What on Earth was that?" Nina said worryingly, clasping her hands together. "He's never usually that conceited."
Lucia could only shrug, equally as hapless. She was right; Maxwell was always confident, but never selfish. Had winning his first-ever pro wrestling match boosted his ego? It certainly seemed that way.
She just hoped this was a one-off event. Much as she'd enjoyed seeing him wrestle, Maxwell's sudden shift in demeanour had unsettled her greatly.
Messages from Lucia's phone, Feb 13th 2015
Lucia: i really enjoyed seeing u wrestle 2nite it was a gr8 surprise :)
Maxwell: knew youd like it
Maxwell: think of it as an early valentines day gift
Lucia: oh well thx kind sir :0
Lucia: so ig ur free tmrw??
Maxwell: ofc. ;)