Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Max stared out the window as David drove, ignoring his dad's talk about how proud he was that he was in college or some other shit about either himself or Max.

"I coulda drove myself, you know," Max grumbled.

"No such thing!" David insisted, raising a hand off the wheel for a minute before returning it to its previous spot.

He groaned, hands flying to fix the mess that it was before David fucked it up.

He opened his phone, checking the time. 12:46. The GPS said they would be there at 1:11. He slouched in his seat, fully fucking done with this trip. 

"Are you excited to be starting college?" David asked finally. 

Max shrugged. "I guess." If he was being honest, he was excited. He would have thought he'd be six feet under by now. Between the bouts of depression and anxiety he's experienced throughout the last seven years, he didn't expect this.

But here he was- David humming the Camp Campbell song, Max in the seat next to him, on the way to fucking Juilliard. Max didn't expect to get in. Especially not on a scholarship. But, again, here he was, going to college for creative writing.

Writing. Who was it that introduced him to it? Peter... Preston, he thought it was. Damn that was a long time ago. He met Preston at Camp Campbell when he was ten, the same year David had adopted him, but Preston had never shown up again. It made him sad every time he thought about it, although he was never sure why.

"Max?" David asked, pulling Max away from his thoughts. 

"Huh?" He asked, having not heard a damn word David said.

"I said," David restarted in a singsong voice. "What are you planning on majoring in?"

Max was quiet for a minute before mumbling, "Creative writing."

"Writing?" David squealed a little. "You're gonna be a writer? That's wonderful!"

Max blushed, pulling on his hoodie stings until only his nose and a small bit of his floof could be seen.

David noticed Max's embarrassment and continued to fuel it in the typical 'David is trying to be a good dad' fashion. "Now that's nothing to be embarrassed of, Max. Writing is a wonderful way to not only pass time, but also vent about your feelings!"

Max wished he's shut up. 

--

Preston sung along to the Beyonce on the radio, one hand out the window, the other on the steering wheel. The wind whipped his hair around his face. 

He was going to college. To Juilliard, of all places! No questionable acting degrees for him, no sir. He was getting a degree at a place where professionals went. Obviously, he was aware of how little people got in, and how even less got in on a scholarship. But after the scouts saw his stunning performance at his school's play, he was able to get in, mostly-paid off.

He checked the time on his phone, open to the GPS. 12:46. He should be there at 1:11. He could barely contain his excitement. To think that, in a little more than half an hour, he'd be at the school of his fucking dreams.

His phone rang. He checked the caller ID before answering. Harrison's accented voice came out the other end. "Hi Preston!" He said once Preston had answered.

"Hello, Harrison!" He responded, putting his phone on speaker so he could focus on the road.

"How far out are you? Nerris and I are already on campus!" He said, laugh on the end. 

Preston sighed dramatically. "I'm a little more than thirty minutes out. I should be there around one, I promise," Preston smiled. "How is it there?"

"Oh, it's hella awesome! Remember when I said that Nikki and Neil had moved to New York?"

"Uh-huh?"

"Well, Nerris told them that we were going here, and they came to see us!"  There was a sound of mumbling on the other end, before he was- presumably- placed on speaker. Neil and the other's voices filtered through. "Hi, Preston." They said in somewhat of a unison.

"Hello good people!" Preston said from the other side. "I hope to see you all very soon! Do me a favor and maybe not have any parties without me?"

It was Neil who answered to that. "No promises to that or Harrison being able to walk when you get here." He heard Nikki and Nerris laugh and a gasp from Harrison.

"Neil-" He could literally hear Harrison's blush. 

"What? It's not my fault you only visit once or twice a year."

Preston was laughing. "Please, at the very least, wait until I spend 30 minutes with my best friend before you impair his ability to walk."

"I'll think about it." There was a faint hitting sound, probably Harrison slapping Neil, who just laughed.

They talked for the next half-hour, before Preston said he was entering the city and said he had to go

--

Max stared wide-eyed at the school as David drove up to it. "Fuck, it's beautiful."

David didn't bother scolding Max for his language. "It is, isn't it?" He moved in front of the steps to the school, putting it into park before popping the trunk.

Max stepped out, stretching. David came around, handing him his duffel bag. Max stared at it, them him, before hugging his dad. He held it for a few seconds more than usual. Still not enough for David to hug back, but he smiled nonetheless.

Max took his bag. 

David smiled. "Remember, text me-"

"Text you everyday, if I need anything Gwen is in the area, no drugs, no driving drunk, and if I insist on having sex, it's gotta be safe."

David beamed. "Very good!" Gwen already knows you're here, so you won't surprise her as much if you just randomly go over." He hugged Max quickly. "I'll miss ya kiddo. Have fun. Don't forget to visit."

Max nodded, admittedly a little sad that David had to go. He stood there, watching and waving as David's car pulled away from the school. He went inside, opening his phone and checking his email for details on where to sign in when-

"Ah!" He bumped into someone, who consequently spilled their drink over themselves. Max blushed, mortified. His first day at college and he was already making an idiot of himself. "God fucking shit... I'm sorry, I'm not usually this clumsy- Preston?"

--

Preston parked his car in the school parking lot, turning it off. He practically jumped out, grabbing his phone and Starbucks coffee that he got just before he arrived. He grabbed his suitcase from out the back. He took a deep breath of happiness, before slamming shut the trunk, grabbing his suitcase and going inside.

He spotted his suit-clad best friend almost immediately. He speed walked over, enveloping him in a hug, albeit very awkward.

"Preston!" Nerris exclaimed, lisp ever-present. She also went to give him a hug.

He wrapped his arms around her. "So is Harrison still able to walk?" He joked.

Harrison went red and Neil rolled his eyes. "Regrettably." He joked back, smiling.

"How was the drive, Pres?" Nikki asked. She messed with the end of her ponytail.

"It was so *fucking* long, Jesus- Ah!" He said, surprised when someone bumped into him, making him spill his coffee. He turned around to see a black-haired boy with dark skin cursing. He didn't recognize him until he looked up. 

"Max?"

Chapter Text

Max almost didn't recognize Preston. His dark auburn hair had grown out a little, curled just above his shoulders. He wore a lavender colored scarf, a loose black t-shirt, leggings, and a pair of black ankle boots. He could recognize those eyes anywhere. Almost yellow, but not quite brown.

"You fixed your hair." Was the first thing that came out of Max's mouth. He immediately wished he could die on the spot.

Preston didn't seem to notice his rude remark. "Maxwell? What are you doing here?"

Everyone else seemed to wonder the same thing- But it was slightly lesser from Nikki and Neil, who just looked excited to see him.

He pulled the hoodie over his head, looking away. "I'm getting a stupid education."

Preston looked him up and down. He was suddenly keenly aware of every tear in his jeans, the fact that his hoodie only covered half of his stomach, the black choker on his neck, the red Converses that had dirt from over a year of being in use, and the gauges that he had gotten two years ago on a whim cos he was mad at David. He looked down.

Nikki broke the silence, running over to Max to hug him. "Hey there Max!" She planted a playful kiss to his cheek.

Max pushed her away, but still kept a smile at seeing her. "Hey Nik,"

Neil had walked over and put a hand on his shoulder. "I see you got a wardrobe change. Did David agree to it?"

"Pfft," He said, grinning at the taller male. "Hell no."

Harrison feigned a gasp. "Is that a smile?"

Max blew a raspberry at him.

Nerris bounced over. "So what are you majoring in?"

Max almost didn't answer. But he was here, he couldn't bullshit his way out of being in an arts school. "Creative writing," He admitted.

He noticed Preston's eyes widen a little. He hadn't forgotten teaching him how to write.

--

Preston had been practicing his lines on the outskirts of the forest just outside of the amphitheater when he heard crying. He immediately stopped, curiosity piqued. He moved away from the stage, following the sounds into the woods. He stepped behind a tree a few feet away from the crying. Angry cussing was heard from between the sobs. He recognized the angry cussing. Max.

He peeked out from behind the tree. Max was punching himself in the thighs, cursing at himself, wincing as each punch landed. But he didn't stop. It hurt Preston deep into his soul.

He stepped out from behind the tree, right as Max was rearing up another punch. "Max, what the hell are you doing?" He asked, more worried than angry.

Max looked over, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights. Once he had gotten over his shock, he scrambled to get up, and wiped his eyes, trying his best to look pissed. "Preston, what the fuck are you doing here?"

"Well, I could hear you crying from the damn amphitheater, I couldn't just ignore it." He said, stepping closer to the younger boy. "Now I ask you again. What. The hell. Were you. Doing?"

Max looked at the ground, shoving his hand in his pockets. Preston waited for a reply, although he didn't expect one.

"If I tell you, do you promise not to tell David?" Max mumbled.

"Of course!" Preston was somewhat of a gossip, but if he was told explicitly to keep something a secret, he'd carry it to the grave. He wasn't a monster. Also, he really didn't want to get on Max's bad side.

Max sighed, another tear falling out of his eye. He lifted his hoodie a little, messing with the button and zipper on his jeans. Preston blushed, but continued to watch, somewhat confident that he wasn't going to show Preston his junk.

And, indeed, he was right. Max kept his boxers on, his jeans around his knees. Preston noticed the bruises almost immediately. The newest ones were red, the oldest ones a yellow almost akin to their Camp Campbell shirts. He kneeled, moving his hand to gently touch one of the bruises in the middle of his thigh. Max winced.

Preston quickly drew his hand away. He looked up at Max. "Why?"

Max shrugged as Preston stood up. He took that as a sign to pull up his pants. "I guess... I dunno. I just," He teared up again, looking angry at himself for doing so. "My stupid parents not coming to stupid Parent's Day, the fact that the summer is halfway over and I'm just gonna have to go back to a stupid house where no one gives two shits about me-" He cut himself off with a sob, looking away.

Preston felt angry. Not towards Max, but his family. How could anyone not care for him? Sure, he was an asshole, but he was really sweet when you dig down. And besides, he's just a kid.

He hugged Max. Max didn't respond for a few seconds, before burying his face into Preston's shirt, and wrapped his arms around him.

Preston wasn't sure how long the hug lasted. A few minutes, maybe? But he just held him until the crying died down. "Hey, Max?"

"Hm?"

He pulled Max away, but kept his hands on his shoulders. "What if you were to write?"

"What?" Max looked genuinely confused.

"Writing. About your feelings. Yes, I know it sounds cheesy, but it is a much better alternative to hitting yourself." Preston insisted.

Max looked at the ground once more. "Promise me you'll try?" Preston asked.

"... Promise." He mumbled.

Preston beamed, grabbing Max's hand and leading him out of the forest. "I have a journal in my tent that you could use."

­--

Max had separated himself from the group, signing in at the front desk, receiving his room number and schedule.

He looked around the dorms until he found his room, opening it and setting his duffel down by the door. He collapsed on the bottom bunk, staring across the small room at the desk. He got up, grabbed his bag, placing it on the desk with a thunk. He retrieved his junior counselor shirt, given to him by David, obviously. He pulled some thumbtacks out of the side pocket, returning to his bunk to tack it up.

He heard laughing and muffled talking on the other side of the door. He glanced over, just as Preston walked in. He noticed Max on the bed right away.

He glanced over at the green shirt that Max was putting on the wall. "I didn't know you became a counselor."

Max shrugged. "When your dad is the owner of the camp, it's almost impossible to not have some sort of job there."

Preston set his suitcase next to the window. Max moved on to tacking up another thing, a picture this time. Max had set it in his duffel without a thought, but putting it up, he came to regret it.

It was a selfie of him and Preston kissing.

Not the weird kissing, like they were making out in front of the camera, but a peck. Max had a deep red blush, but Preston was smiling. One hand was under his chin, like it wasn't planned.

And to be honest, it wasn't.

"You kept that?" He jumped, whirling around, having not noticed Preston behind him.

He looked down, ears red. "Yeah. Even if I didn't keep the picture, how could I forget my first kiss?"

Both boys were silent.

Max wasn't sure what would happen if he ever met Preston again. What could he say to the boy who broke his heart? That he was angry, that he waited summer after summer just to see him again, that he would have a staring contest with David's phone, waiting, praying for a call that would never come? He almost laughed.

Preston was the first to speak up. He sat across from Max, pulling out the chair from his desk. "So now what?"

Max didn't know what to say to that.

Chapter Text

The boys had gotten into somewhat of a routine of ignoring each other. Max would leave their dorm early, Preston would return late. There was no meet in the middle, no talking through their issues. Just ignorance.

Preston opened their dorm room one night to find another lump in Max's bed. He tiptoed over, shedding his cardigan.

It was a fucking boy. Preston wasn't sure why he was so pissed. It was Max's life, he could sleep with whomever he wanted, so long as Preston wasn't in the room. He wasn't even dating Max. Hell, he literally took every chance he could to ignore him, why was he getting so worked up?

He took a breath, crawling onto the window sill, where they had placed a mattress topper and a few blankets. He placed a blanket behind his head, covering himself with the others. He fell asleep with his hands curled into fists.

--

Max knew he was fucked when he saw that Preston was asleep on the window sill. He knew damn well that Preston preferred to sleep in his bed, some shit about how he needed his 'beauty sleep'. Not like he needed it. He was already beautiful.

He crawled over his one-night lover, sliding on his boxers and jeans before shaking him awake. He woke up with a snort. "What?"

"Get your ass outta here. My roommate will wake up in an hour and you need to be long gone by then." Max pulled his hoodie over his head as what's-his-name got out of his bed, dressing himself.

They were gone within the next fifteen minutes.

Max pretended that he'd call the guy again (What was his name? Jack? Brad?), before separating himself. His mind started racing almost immediately after. What if Preston hated him? What if he thought Max was a slut? What if he wanted to change roommates? What if's started to blur in his mind. He barely remembered rushing out of the school, running on sheer panic and adrenaline, block after block away from the school, away from his room, away from Preston.

By the time he stopped, not only did he feel like he could pass out, he was completely lost. He unlocked his phone, scrolling through the contacts until he found a name.

Gwen.

--

Max and his boy toy was gone by the time Preston woke up. All evidence that they had even been there was a messy bed and a condom wrapper on the floor. Preston scoffed. At least he had the audacity to be safe.

He threw on a loose white shirt, rolling up the sleeves to his elbows. A pair of black leggings followed, along with his usual black ankle books. He topped it off with a flannel over shirt. He grabbed his bag, locking the door on his way out.

His phone buzzed. He opened it to find a message from Harrison. 'Cafeteria food sucks this morning. Starbucks instead?'

Preston answered with a 'hell yes'. Lord knows he needed it.

He met up with his best friend near the front of the school. Harrison broke into a smile. Preston half-assed his.

"Aw, what's with the long face? Y'know you can't hide anything from me." Harrison said while walking down the steps towards the Starbucks down the street.

Preston sighed, defeated. He ran a hand through his hair. "Max had slept with someone last night. It had long since been over when I came back, but it had still happened."

Harrison looked somewhat confused. "What is the problem?"

"That's the problem! There shouldn't be a problem! Max is a grown-ass man, he should be able to do whatever he wants. But why do I feel so... Angry? Guilty? I don't know, but this feeling is the absolute worst." He ran a hand through his hair once more as they entered the coffee shop.

"So your jealous? That Max is sleeping with people?" Harrison asked as they got in line for coffee. Preston nodded. "Maybe it's because you want to sleep with him?"

Preston blushed, red-faced as he ordered his latte. "What do you mean I want to sleep with him? I want nothing to do with him!"

Harrison blew on his coffee. "Sure, Pres. Whatever you say."

--

Max had barely been able to choke out the street corner he was at through the sobs. But he had did it, and here he was, next to Gwen, staring at the floorboard.

Gwen sighed. "Hey, kid, I know you wouldn't call me like that if something wasn't wrong. Now spill."

Max played with the sleeves of his hoodie, wishing it could swallow him whole. "I slept with someone last night."

"Okay, and...?"

He sighed. "Preston didn't sleep in his bed like he usually does."

"Well, assuming you have bunk beds, it would be hella weird to just sleep above your roommate and his... erm, sex buddy."

"But what if he starts hating me? Or- or what if he thinks I'm a slut? What if he wants a new roommate? What if he looks at me different? What if-"

Gwen cut him off with a hand on his shoulder. "I understand."

He looked up with watery eyes. "You- you what?"

She pulled into a parking space near what he assumed was her apartment. "I understand. When your dad- David- first caught me with someone else, I felt the same way. But David told me he didn't see me differently. I still had to convince him out of beating up whoever I was with, but he told me that I was still his best friend, it didn't matter that I was sleeping with people. I think he was more upset at the thought that one of these men could hurt me- whether it be physical or emotional."

Max thought about that, playing with the thought in his mind. "Do you think Preston might still have feelings for me?"

"Maybe." Gwen turned to look at Max. "Why is he so important to you?"

"... Remember seven years ago, the year when David adopted me?"

"Yeah, how could I forget? David wouldn't let me forget for weeks."

--

Max had been writing in the journal for a month. Preston had often come to his tent, occasionally staying the night in the cot with him. Tonight was one of those nights, Preston curled up next to him, hand slung over Max's back, watching him write.

Max, himself, was on his stomach, flashlight under his armpit shining light onto the worn journal he was furiously writing in. Small tears fell out of his eyes as he wrote line after line of a stupid poem about his abuse at home.

"Darling, you're gonna either break the pencil or the paper." Preston mumbled quietly, staring at him with tired eyes. Max was torn out of his little bubble of anger. He looked over at Preston, eyes wet with unshed tears. Preston moved his hand to run his thumb over Max's cheek. Max nuzzled into the touch.

"What's wrong, Max? Talk to me." Preston asked, eyebrows furrowed. Max cuddled into Preston's chest.

"You'll have to go home tomorrow. I- I don't know about me, but I know for a fact you're going home. I'm not ready." He said, starting to actively cry.

"Hey, hey... Calm down, babe." He said, holding onto Max. Max did, it just took a while.

When he did calm down, Preston angled Max's head up, giving a small smile to the by before leaning down and placing a kiss to his lips. Max's eyes widened, surprised by the action, but it didn't take long before he was kissing back. Max didn't know how long it lasted, all he knew was that he didn't want it to end. But it did.

"Better?" Preston asked, a small smile on his face. Max just blushed and cuddled into Preston.

"I guess."

--

Preston was restless throughout his last class of the day. He kept fidgeting, and he had snapped at one of the other students (although, in his defense, she was being an idiot). It was a relief when the bell finally rung. He sent a text to Harrison telling him that he wasn't available today for a study session.

He practically ran out of the class, shoving his things in his bag as he maneuvered around students on his way to the dorm. He couldn't ignore this. He couldn't just let Max slip through his fingers. He refused to make that mistake again.

He shoved the key into the lock on the door, flinging it open. As expected, no one was home. He set his bag down on the coat rack next to the door, sitting at the desk across from Max's bed, waiting for his roommate to get home.

Chapter Text

Max had spent the entire day at Gwen's watching stupid rom-com's that Gwen loved. Max didn't care for them, but he had to admit that some were funny. She had even made microwave popcorn at one point.

But all good things had to come to an end. He watched the passing street signs, trying to memorize each one for the next time he went to see Gwen.

"Alright, Max. You good to go now?" She asked when they pulled up to the school.

"Yeah, I think so." He said, unbuckling. "Thanks, Gwen."

She smiled at him. "No problem."

He watched as she drove off, before turning and heading to the school. It was late, about 8 o' clock. He knew that Preston would probably be back at their dorm. Asleep, if he was lucky.

He gently opened the door. Preston was indeed home and asleep. But not in his bed. He saw sprawled on the desk chair next to Max's desk, head down and arms crossed, snoring lightly. It was obvious he was waiting for Max. There was no other explanation for why he fell asleep in not only and uncomfortable position, but an uncomfortable place.

He moved forward into the room quietly. He grabbed a blanket off of the window sill, covering Preston, who gasped a little as he woke up. Max hadn't realized he was such a light sleeper. Of course, he was usually was asleep by the time Preston fell asleep, even at camp.

"Max... Max I want to talk to you." Preston said, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Not right now, Pres. You're tired. Go to sleep." Max responded, rubbing his thumb over his cheek.

"No, if it doesn't happen now, we'll ignore it. Like... Like I ignored you. For seven years." Preston said, starting to cry.

"Preston-"

"Don't 'Preston' me, Max! Like it's okay! It's not okay. It's not okay that I ignored you. It's not okay that I left you wondering what you did wrong when it was me." Preston was fully awake now, sitting up straight as he cried.

Max hated it. He didn't hate the words, but he hated the tears that were ruining Preston's perfect face. He hated that Preston carried all this guilt. He hated that this boy, too fucking perfect for this world, was feeling this bad. "Preston..."

"I hated that you slept with... with whatever the fuck his name was, if you even know. I hated it because it meant that you had moved on, that you- you had-" His crying was too intense now.

Max gently held the boy, not picking him up, but persuading him to move from the chair to his bed. Max laid down, Preson on top of him.

"I never moved on, babe. All the boy I sleep with? It's to forget about you." Max said quietly. "I fuck 'em to forget tht first kiss- and the second, when you said goodbye to me. It never works, cos my mind always goes back to you."

Preston moved his head to look at Max, who was avoiding his gaze. "You're right. I wasn't sure what I was doing wrong. I waited everyday for a call, Preston. Everyday. Wishing you could help me through the adoption like you had helped me through hurting myself." He was crying now. "I prayed to some God I don't even believe in that you'd call me. I don't know when I just stopped caring. When I just... When I started trying to forget. It started with hurting myself physically- through punches, liquor, hell, I would have tried drugs if I didn't have David. When that didn't work I tried to forget though other ways- sex, specifically.

It started with giving other boys handjobs. I was basically the school slut. Then I got bolder. Blow a boy, get passed around like a blunt at a party. I worked my way up to being fucked. But when I got there... I didn't care that losing my v-card wasn't as personal as it shoulda been. It made me forget. That's all I really wanted, anyway." Max sighed.

Preston squirmed up, putting his arms on either side of Max's head. He gently placed his lips against Max's. It was like all the butterflies that had hidden themselves away seven years ago had all come back. It was soft, sweet- nothing like the other kisses he had been given, which were rushed and mostly during the course of sex with a stranger.

--

Preston wasn't sure what he was thinking when he kissed Max. Max should have pushed him away, told him that it was too fucking late to fix anything. But he didn't. He kissed back and it was like they unpaused the moment that they had first kissed seven years ago in Max's cot at camp.

Preston pulled away, tears falling onto Max's face. He ran his hair through Max's curls, noticing how soft it was. Max's cyan eyes stared back at him. He was a work of art- A fucking Renaissance-era sculpture, a goddamn masterpiece. It didn't matter what everyone else thought of him. All that mattered was him, here, in this moment.

Preston kissed him again, more force behind it, but just as loving. Max eagerly kissed back, his hands attaching to the back of Preston's neck. They stayed like that for God-knows-how-long, kissing and holding onto each other like the world would end.

Eventually, though, they did separate for more than air. Preston pressed his forehead against Max's, closing his eyes.

"I love you, goddammit." Preston said quietly.

Chapter Text

Max woke up to Preston lying next to him, snoring quietly. He smiled for a second before his thoughts caught up to him and he was in head was in red alert. He bolted up, barely acknowledging that they both were still dressed. Preston's arm fell off his stomach. He gently climbed over the sleeping boy, before grabbing his bag and bolting out the room.

Max didn't stop until he was safely in his Creative Writing class. He relaxed into his chair, pulling out his notebook, preparing to write an entry for the next hour until his class started.

--

Seven years ago, I was punching bruises into my thighs, taking every chance I could to find a way to hurt myself because I simply couldn't find a reason not to. I was a pessimistic and angry child- Not like much has changed.

I remember the day clearly. The day he had gotten me to stop.

I remember every detail of that day, and I think a little part of me fears that if I let go of even the smallest thing, I'll forget it all. Not just that day- The rest of the summer that we had spent together, sneaking into the other's tents and telling stories until dawn. The smell of peppermint that always seemed to be present in his mouth. The loose strands of hair that always seemed to fall out of his perfect curls. The feel of his hand, soft and loving, against my cheek. The bittersweet kiss goodbye.

If I were to describe the day he had caught me, I'd say it was miserable. It had started with another day of breakfast that seconded as toxic waste. I usually skipped meals- No one noticed nor cared. The day's activity was trivia, which no one wanted to do, as usual. There were the usual questions- Who built the Statue of Liberty? and What year did the Civil War end? as well as the questions that leaned towards some campers' activities. Who was the first astronaut to go to space in what year? Who invented the microscope?

It had ended in a little more than an hour. We were free to do whatever until lunch, when we were forced to do another camp-sanctioned activity.

I had run to the woods, which was probably the only place I could find comfort at the time. The spot where I usually hung out was close to the amphitheater, but far enough away that you couldn't spot me. That's when the voices in my head usually decided to speak. They whispered in the back of my head, like little ghosts, reminding my of the lack of love in my household, the burden I was being on the other campers, the exact time I had left until I was forced to go home.

I hated when they did that. It still happens, and I still hate it. It's probably the only reason I didn't wait for him to wake up this morning.

I hadn't realized I was crying so loud, or punching myself so hard or pulling strands of my hair out or that my hand was bleeding from where I had scratched too hard. I was in the act of damaging my thighs when I heard his voice.

"What the hell are you doing?"

I

--

"Alright students listen up!" The professor shouted, clapping her hands.

Preston was at the front of the room with the rest of the theater group. He looked around, bored and pissed. 8:30 in the morning and he was pissed. He spotted the curly hair in the back row almost immediately. He had tuned out what the teacher was saying, barely suppressing the need to go back there and slap some sense into Max.

"... And Max will be paired with Preston Goodplay." The teacher finished. Preston's head whipped around to look at her. "Alright, everyone, you have three weeks to work on this, as it will be presented at the end of the semester. Good luck!"

The class mixed together as they tried to find their designated partner. Preston wasted no time walking to the back of the class to Max's chair. Max stood to face him. "Pres-"

"To not 'Preston' me Max!" He said sternly, yet quietly so as to not bother surrounding students. "I thought we got over this. Yet, here I am, waking up to an empty room, with not even a note? What the hell Max?" Preston was beyond pissed. But staring at Max, seeing the conflict in the boy's eyes, he sighed, placing his head in his hands.

Silence filled up the space between the two. They were drowning it it; uncomfortable silence filled with things they should say. But they didn't.

"So what now?" Max asked quietly.

"We work on this damn project and hope whatever this is between us either fixes itself or goes away." Preston relied snappishly.

--

They had met up again at lunch, Max's head filled with the voices once more, telling him suicide plans, and no matter how much Max rejected them they just kept coming, piling on top of each other, one after another after another after another-

"Max?" Preston's voice filtered through the others in his head. He blinked the fog out of his eyes. "Are you alright?" Gone was the boy who snapped at him earlier, the boy who claimed he wanted nothing to do with him. The boy that sat before him was the same one from seven years ago who would hold him as the voices would shout at Max, listen to him ramble, cry, vent. The boy who loved him.

"It's- I'm fine," He lied, looking down at the table, closing the journal in front of him.

Preston was silent for a second before reaching his hand across the table. "Is it the voices?" He asked softly. Max didn't respond.

Preston stood, causing Max to look at him. "I want to show you something," He said, extending a hand out for Max. Max grabbed it, following Preston out of the room, out of the school. He didn't stop until they had reached a park. It was small, a playground residing across a field, but flowers resided on either side of it. Rows and rows of flowers.

He walked over to one of the rows. "Pres, it's beautiful."

Preston nodded. "Nikki told me about it. She likes to wreck havoc on the playground."

Max smiled a little. "Sounds about right."

Max sat there, admiring the flowers, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Preston sat on a bench.

He felt the voices quiet down, not yet silenced, as he stood and took a spot next to Preston.

"How have they been?" Preston inquired, avoiding looking at the other boy, instead looking at the flowers.

"... Loud. Insistent." Max looked at the ground, swinging his feet. His sneakers scraped along the grass.

Preston wrapped an arm around Max. He was surprised for a moment, before the emotions caught up to him. The sadness, anger, heartbreak from the last seven years all came spilling out as he cried into Preston's shirt. Holding onto him like the sweetness would end if he let go.

He missed this. When Preston would just hold him as he cried. Let him let it out.

Max wasn't sure how much time had elapsed when he finally stopped. At this point, he was starting to get used to losing track of time with Preston.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Preston asked gently, lifting Max's head to meet his gaze.

"No." Max replied.

"Okay," Preston said before gently pressing his lips against Max's.

Max didn't know how exactly how much he needed that kiss until it happened.

Chapter Text

They had two weeks left for the project. Max was wracking his brain for ideas, completely out of ideas. Preston wasn't any help, distracting him with kisses every second he could. Max usually wouldn't complain, but considering that they only had two more weeks until this project was due, he couldn't exactly procrastinate.

Max checked the time on his phone. 8:06 pm. Preston should be here any minute now, and he wasn't any closer to having any ideas to share with his... Roommate. He wasn't quite sure if he was ready to call Preston his boyfriend.

Max put down his pencil, banging his head against the desk. Three fucking hours alone, no one to distract him, and he didn't have anything.

He heard a door open and close, but he didn't bother lifting his head. The door was locked, and only one other person had a room key.

"No ideas?" He heard Preston ask, along with a thump of him dropping his bag on the floor.

Max turned his head to look at the other boy. Preston was wearing all black today, sporting a black turtleneck, leggings, and boots. His short hair was in a small bun. Max was a fan of it like that, although he'd never admit to it. He watched as he walked over, pressing a kiss to his temple.

"C'mon, Max, you've been working too hard," Preston whined, dropping onto Max's bed. He patted the space next to him. "I haven't seen you all day. Let's talk."

"You mean make out until it's well past midnight?" Max deadpanned, sitting up and turning around to look at Preston, who simply rolled his eyes.

"No, Max," He said, sticking his tongue out. "I mean come talk to me."

Max smiled, standing up and falling on top of Preston, who fell back with an 'oof'. If Preston didn't plan on kissing his brains out, he was gonna do it.

Max started kissing Preston's face, who just smiled and laughed. Max pressing his lips against Preston's, who kissed back. He opened his mouth, flicking his tongue against Preston's bottom lip. He opened his mouth, letting Max do whatever. Preston's hands roamed around Max's back and chest, stopping everywhere they could.

They never went very far when they did this though. They'd kiss for a while, let hands go wherever for a while, then they'd cuddle for the rest of the night.

Max was tired of that shit.

He pulled away, causing Preston to whine a little. His eyes widened a little when Max pulled his sweater from over his head. Max straddled Preston, trying to take off the chest binder.

--

Preston had long forgotten that Max was trans. It never came up in conversation, and they had never gone far enough for it to be an issue. But as he watched Max unto the fasteners on the binder, he felt the overwhelming urge to remind Max exactly what he was doing.

"Max..." He said quietly.

Max looked up from what he was doing. "Hm?"

"Are... Are you sure about this? I don't want you to feel uncomfortable, and- and I already know that you sleep around I-"

"You don't want to be another stain on my bed." Max finished.

"I wasn't going to phrase it like that. But, yes. If we were to... Do it, I'd want to it to mean something." Preston looked at the bed before making eye contact with Max.

Max bent down and kissed Preston, who kissed back. "I promise you, Pres, I want to do this."

Preston searched Max's eyes for any trace of regret. Then he sighed. "Okay. But tell me if you're not okay with something! This is about both of us, not just me. Promise?"

Max nodded. "I need verbal confirmation," Preston said, a serious tone to his voice.

"I promise," Max responded, kissing him one more time before going back to unfastening his binder.

Preston slid out from under Max, taking off his own clothes. He slid his black turtleneck over his head before tugging his leggings down and off his legs. He stole a glance at Max, who had gotten off to remove his own pants.

Fuck, he was hot. The was his breasts moved as he undid his pants, the curve of his back, the imprint of his ribs against his skin. His breath caught as Max removed his pants and boxers in one go.

The thing that caught his eyes were the bruises. The reds, purples, yellows of the bruises n Max's thighs. Then he noticed the other bruises on his hips, no doubt from when other boys had touched Max.

"Max," He started, forgetting that 1) he was supposed to be undressing, they were about to have sex for god's sake, and that 2) he wasn't supposed to let Max see that he was looking (even though he knew Max was probably aware) "When did you start hurting yourself again?"

Max froze, clearly having forgotten that he wasn't having having a one-night stand, where no one questioned anything on him. He looked away, avoiding eye contact with his boyfriend. Preston gently grabbed Max's cheeks, tilting his head and forcing him to make eye contact.

Max sighed. "I started when... I dunno, I guess when I realized that you wanted nothing to do with me."

Preston gently kissed Max, resting his forehead against Max's. His hands resided on the bruises on his hips, memories of past fucks. "I'm so sorry."

"Let's talk about it later, okay? It feels silly talking about this when we're both naked and semi-horny." Max said, pressing his lips lips against Preston's Adam's apple, eliciting a small moan from the boy.

--

Max truly did not want to talk about it later. But he saw that Preston was half-hard, and he was already wet. All Preston needed to let it drop was a promise of returning to it later, a kiss to the neck, and a hand on his thigh.

"You fall apart easy," Max snickered, walking his fingers up Preston's thigh, stopping shy of his boxers.

Preston blushed. "Shut up."

Max hadn't realized how pale Preston was, his blush spreading to his collarbone. He wasn't a bursting with muscle, but he was fairly built, not as much of a twig as he was when Max had last seen him at Camp Cambell.

He toyed with the band on Preston's boxers, slowly pulling them off of Preston.

And, well, you guys probably know what happens next.

--

Preston caught his breath for a minute before standing to get a tissue from the box off of Max's desk. He handed a few to Max, taking the condom off and throwing it into the trash before collapsing onto the bed once more.

Max smiled at Preston. "You're pretty good at that, Pres."

Preston kissed Max, tangling his hand in his boyfriend's hair. "To think that that was my first time as well."

Max's eyes widened. "What? I was your first time?"

Preston blushed again. "Yeah."

He laughed. "Well, you are definitely amazing at sex."

Preston cuddled against his boyfriend, kissing his collarbone before resting his head on Max's chest.

Max carded his hands through Preston's hair before he gasped.

"I know what the project should be about."

Chapter Text

Max handed the script to Preston, having spending the last three days on it. Yes, it was supposed to be a small skit, at most 30 minutes, but he wanted to make sure that it captured everything in those thirty minutes.

Preston's eyebrows furrowed as he read through it, putting a spoonful of yogurt parfait into his mouth. "Are you sure about this?"

Max nodded. "Yeah. Besides, do we really have the time to think of another idea?"

Preston nodded, handing the papers back to him. "Where should we start?"

--

They had started working on backgrounds, simple painted cardboard cut-outs. The project was focused more on the writing, after all. But how they presented it was important as well. And Preston knew that Max wanted it to be as perfect as possible.

Preston sighed as he finished up on another set piece. He placed down his paintbrush, looking at Max, who was hard at work.

Max was something else. The look of concentration on his face, with his eyebrows furrowed, and his tongue poking out of his mouth, the fluff that his beanie only hid a small portion of, the curve of his back, the skin poking out of his cropped jacket... Preston felt like had too much and not enough of the other boy.

Preston tore his gaze away from his boyfriend and tried to focus once more at the task at hand. They only had a week and a half to finish this project. If it was uncomplete by the time it was due, not only would they get a bad grade, but Max would be devastated.

--

Max focused on painting the background, ignoring the sleep tugging at his eyelids. He knew Preston would go back to the dorm soon, it was after nine and Preston still cared about keeping up with his more-or-less usual sleep schedule. He usually said he'd stay and work for a while longer, then end up working till dawn. At this point he was just running on coffee and sheer determination.

He wiped the paintbrush on his thigh, smearing the paint on both denim and skin. He turned his head at the sound of Preston standing up. He watched as his boyfriend wiped the dirt off of his pants, then picked up the paintbrushes he had used as well as the dirty water.

Max let his gaze drop as he stared at the final setting piece. Almost done. He reached for the brush, before it was snatched away from him. "Preston-" He said, starting to get irritated.

"Darling, you've been working non-stop the last three days. You have to give it a rest or you won't make it to the end," He put down the brushes and paints before turning back around to gently kiss Max's forehead. "Besides, the bed is really empty without you."

--

Preston happily bounced back to the dorm, a tired and begrudging Max attached to his elbow. Practically no one was on campus, with the exception of a few other late-nighters, and a couple of security guards. Preston turned the corner, only to be faced with another boy. MAx gasped, huddling closer to him.

"Finally, God, Max, it's about fucking time you got here," He looked Preston up and down with a disgusted look. "Who's this twink?"

Preston stepped back a little in offence. "Excuse me, this 'twink' can hear you." The other boy scoffed. "I am Preston, now tell me, who the hell you and what the fuck you're doing outside our dorm?"

The other guy ignored him, instead turning his attention towards Max. "Max, this is who the hell you hang out with? Fucking slut and his twink."

Preston eyesight literally started to turn red at that word. Slut. Preston knew that it wasn't that big a deal to Max, but to him? No one fucking slutshamed his boyfriend. No one

He stepped closer to the other, getting close enough to his face to smell his breath, which was rancid, a surprise compared to his flawless appearance.

"Listen here, you son of a bitch. You have no right to come here, or to call me or my boyfriend names. I'm giving you five goddamn seconds you get your rancid ass outta here before I call security." He warned through gritted teeth.

What's-his-name looked over his shoulder to glare at Max. "Boyfriend? Damn, you're more pathetic than I thought, whore."

"Five," Preston warned.

"Aw, what're you gonna do? Tattletale on me? Pathetic." He laughed.

"Four," Preston barked out.

"Get out of my way," He growled, pushing Preston out of the way, only to have his hand latch onto his wrist.

"Three,"

He tugged Preston off of him, turning to Max, who curled into himself.

“Two,”

He placed a hand on Max’s hip-

“One,”

He was whirled around, eyes wide as a punch landed itself onto his nose, a sickening crack being heard.

“Fuck, you broke my nose you bitch!” He got up off the floor, rearing a punch back, before he was restrained.

Preston and the guy’s eyes widened as they looked at the security guard restraing him. “Shit,” Preston hissed.

“What is going on here?” She said, glaring at PReston and the male she was restraining.

MAx spoke up. “Jake there was sexually harrassing me and Preston was trying to defend me.”

So that was the bitch’s name. Huh.

The guard let Jake go when he stopped struggling. She sighed. “Look, boys, it’s late. Why don’t you two,” She pointed at Max and PReston. “Go back to your dorms and I’ll deal with Jake here. All of this will be sorted out by the morning.”

Preston nodded. “Goodnight, ma’am” He said, unlocking the door and letting Max go in first. “Sorry to bother you,” He added, before going in himself and closing the door.

--

Max was shaking as he sat on the bed. “Preston, you’ve got a good punch,” was the only thing he could think of uttering out.

Preston kissed his forehead, laying down next to him and slinging his arm around Max’s stomach. “Thank you,”

Chapter Text

Max's least favorite part about the project was the dialogue. He wasn't even sure how to get all of what he wanted into a thirty-minute skit, much less how to butter it up with fancy words. He wasn't even sure he could avoid adding curses.

"Fucker!" He yelled in annoyance, throwing his pen down. He ran a hand through his hair. "Motherfucker..."

He felt Preston's now-familiar weight against his back, his head resting on Max's curls. "You don't have to use the expressive languages. You're not writing us in the 1700's are you?"

Max picked up his pen, twirling it in his hand a little before grabbing a new piece of paper. "But you like that flowery shit." He mumbled.

"I'm not the one writing it, darling." Preston replied, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "Besides, it's not a flowery story; it's a real one."

Max stared at the blank page, the noise of Preston sitting back on his bed playing as background noise. Then he started writing.

--

Preston sat in one of the front-row seats in the auditorium, reading over his part as he and Max waited for the people practicing on the stage to finish.

"Re-remember that day? When- Fuck, I messed up." One of the kids on stage cursed, running a hand through their hair.

"Fucking amateur," Preston mumbled, not looking up.

Max snickered. "Damn, Pres, that was cold."

"It's true," He replied haughtily. He set down his paper to look at the students on the stage, barely resisting the urge to go up there and slap some sense into them both.

He felt Max place a hand on his knee. "Calm down Pres. It'll be okay."

Preston sighed, placing his hand over Max's. "I know."

His phone buzzed. Preston pulled it out of his pocket, checking the message. 'How's practice going?' Harrison had asked.

'Fucking boring. We're still waiting for the pair before us to get off. Bunch of damn amateurs, too. It'll take forever for them to finish.' He replied.

Harrison's answer was almost instantaneous. 'That's hella rough, man. I was going to ask if you wanted to come over to my apartment for a movie night, but it sounds like you won't make it.'

'Probably not, considering the shittiness of these fuckers' He took a picture of the people on the stage, sending it to Harrison. 'We'll never be done.'

"How is Harrison?" Max asked, having looked at his phone while he was texting.

"Oh, he's fine. Minding his own goddamn business, but fine." He smiled, gently pushing Max's head away from him.

They both turned their heads as they heard the pair on the stage walk off. "Stage is yours, Pres." One of them yelled to him from the exit.

"Ready?"

Max stood up. "As I'll ever be."

--

Max paced behind stage, biting his thumb. The sound of people chattering in the audience and the other people running around backstage getting ready for their performance and melted together, making Max's anxiety worse. He scanned backstage for his boyfriend, who hadn't arrived yet. "Fuck, Pres, hurry up..." He said to himself.

There was microphone feedback and everyone, audience and performers quieted down.

"Welcome to Julliard's first annual class presentation!" He heard from behind the stage. His eyes darted throughout the crowd once more, spotting Preston in his stupid Shakespeare outfit from camp. The boy pushed through the crowd, taking his place next to Max, and grabbing his hand. "We have teamed up the theater and the creative writing classes to bring you today's performances. As their final exams for the semester, they were to create a two person, 30-minute skit. Please put your hands together for our first pair, William Bradford and Luna de Laval!"

The audience clapped as he first pair went onstage.

The next fourteen pairs passed like that; each pair preforming a skit, before returning backstage to rest. Every four people there would be a break for the audience to stretch their legs and get refreshments, but it didn't help Max. He literally felt the time pass, each second chipping at his mental state, slowly dissolving his ability to keep calm.

They were the last pair. He felt dread tug at his bones, tightening his grip on Preston's hand as the last pair exited to backstage. Preston gently rubbed his thumb on Max's hand.

"That was a fun one! Now, for our last skit of the night- Max Dixon and Preston Goodplay!" The audience clapped. People backstage made a small path for the two boys to exit. Max took a deep breath. Preston kissed his cheek before whispering, "Ready?"

"No," He whispered back. "But it's too late to turn back now."

They both walked onto stage holding hands.

Chapter Text

Max gently tapped the microphone attached to his ear. "The story you are about to see isn't flowery. It's not a flowery story full of flowery words to describe flowery events. No, this is a real story full of real words to describe real things."

He took a deep breath. "This story isn't pretty. It's chock-full of tears, heartbreak, and foul language. But it's important to me, and it's important to Pres. So... Enjoy."

Preston started reciting lines to Shakespeare's Hamlet as Max pushed a tree prop onto stage. He sat next to it, taking another breath, before he started crying. He gently pulled on his hair, just enough to show that he was doing it, but not enough to hurt. He heard Preston stop, using that as a sign to start hitting.

This was all rehearsed, having showed him how to act out the movements convincingly enough that he didn't have to do it.

"Max, what the hell are you doing?" Preston asked, having come from the back so he wouldn't face away from the audience.

Max bolted up. "Shit, Preston, what are you doing here?"

"I'm not heartless you know- I heard you crying from the amphitheater. Now, I ask again, what the hell were you doing?"

Max was silent for a beat. "There are voices in my head that won't shut up. I was coping." He let out a sob.

Preston held him to his chest for a few seconds as he fake-cried. "I have a book that you can use to write this out. Promise you'll try?"

"Promise," Max said.

Preston and Max split to take the platform and tree off of the stage, coming together after Preston rolled a cot onto the middle of the stage. Max sat on it as Preston shoved another shirt into a rolling suitcase.

"So, you're leaving, huh?" Max said quietly (But loud enough for the audience in the back.)

"Yeah." Preston replied.

"Missouri is a long way from Michigan," He stated, pulling his phone from his pocket. Preston looked at Max, gently taking the phone to put his number in (Or, rather, to pretend. Preston's contact in Max's phone was 'Pres' with a bunch of hearts and sparkles.)

Max followed Preston to the edge of the curtain on stage left. They looked at each other. "Take a picture with me?" Max suggested lightly, holding up his phone.

Preston smiled. "Sure." Max held up the phone in the standard selfie position, Preston turning Max's head last minute to kiss him. An explosion of aww's and gasps erupted from the audience.

Preston exited the stage. Max sat on the cot, putting the phone down and staring at it. Then, he spoke directly to the audience. "He never called me. I tried. But I sat here, waiting for seven goddamn years for a call from him, wondering what the hell I did wrong."

He waited a few beats, still staring at the phone. Then he got up, tucking the phone in his pocket and rolling the cot off of the stage. Preston reentered stage left, taking off his Camp Cambell shirt to reveal a loose black shirt under. Max quickly tugged a beanie over his hair, pinning his hoodie up to it's usual length nowadays.

Preston held his phone up to his ear, chattering away about something random, walking towards the center of the stage. Max waled with his head down, until they met in the middle, bumping into each other. Max quickly looked up to who he bumped into. "Shit- Preston?"

"Max?" Preston said at the same time. "What are you doing here?"

Max looked to the side, away from Preston's gaze. "I'm getting a stupid education," He said quietly.

"In?"

"Creative Writing. On a scholarship."

Preston's eyes widened. "Well," He said stiffly. "Good luck."

They both went to opposite sides of the stage, Max dragging out the cot again. He sat on it, waiting for Preston to come back onstage.

"Goddammit," Preston said, dropping his duffel bag with a thunk.

Max's head moved to the sound of Preston's voice. "Sorry I'm such a disappointment." He spat.

Preston rolled his eyes, exiting the stage once more. Max exited the other side, waiting and watching as Preston, who rushed back onstage and sat on the bed. "Not again," he said. "I'm not gonna let him slip through my fingers again." He waited for a few seconds, before nodding off. Max went around backstage in order to get to stage left, before entering quietly. He grabbed a blanket from the duffel, gently laying it over Preston, who woke up with a gasp.

"Max- Max, we need to talk." He mumbled, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"You're tired. Later," He said quietly.

Preston stood, albeit awkwardly. "No- If we don't talk now, it'll never happen. We'll ignore it. Just like I ignored you for seven fucking years."

"Pres-"

"Don't 'Preston' me!" He yelled. "It's not okay! I left you wondering for years what you did wrong when it wasn't you."

He grabbed Max's cheeks and pulled him into a kiss, which Max returned.

"It's not okay," Max said when they parted. "But I never stopped loving you, Pres. And I'll follow you to the end of the damn earth if you asked."

At that, they moved to face the audience, grabbed each other's hand, raised it in the air. then bowed. The crowd erupted in applause. They smiled at each other, pressing another kiss to the other's lips, before walking off the stage.

Chapter Text

Preston wrote another line in his thesis essay, quietly writing on his computer as Max threaded his fingers through his hair. He smiled as he felt Max press little kisses on his head, before pressing his cheek against it.

"Thanks for giving me a second chance, Pres." Max said quietly.

"I should be thanking you," Preston replied. "I was the one who ghosted you, babe."

He felt Max wrap his arms around him. "I love you, Preston. I meant what I said last night. I'll follow you anywhere."

Preston tilted his head up to kiss Max. "I love you too, Max. And I don't need you to go anywhere. Just stay with me."