Sandstorms, Part 1
Max glanced up from her phone only when she heard her door open.
It was Victoria. Because of course it was Victoria. Anyone else would’ve knocked.
Anyone else wouldn’t have interrupted her.
She felt a bit of unfamiliar irritation stir in her gut for a moment - like the winds of fate finally kicking up a sandstorm in her stomach. But, when she glanced up and saw one of her best (and oddest) friends, the irritation died a quick death.
The sands settled in her stomach, to their usual soft anxiety.
Following her.
Always.
“Victoria.” She said - and her voice was soft as ever. No irritation in it. No anger. No steel.
Just the same yielding anxiety. Just the same soft desire to never really be heard.
“Maxine.” Victoria answered easily, flopping onto her bed liked she owned the place.
Like always.
“Max.” She corrected quietly. Still no steel in her tone - though, for a moment, she almost wished there was.
Victoria sent an appraising glance at her room, ignoring the request. Again, like always.
“Maxine, haven’t I told you to get a new place a dozen times? You’re giving us all a bad image.” The blonde gave her a piercing look.
She hummed softly to show she had heard.
She didn’t bother trying to correct the girl again yet.
“Anyway,” Victoria said, sweeping her hand as if brushing off that topic of conversation-
Like she was the one in charge here - like this was her dorm, her conversation.
Max felt the tiny little bolt of anger, unfamiliar and white-hot, die as quickly as it had came - leaving only a vague, bubbling shame.
“I came to tell you about the party we’re attending.” Victoria finished - which made Max’s attention swivel back to her in an instant.
The party we are attending, hm? I don’t get any choice in this, then?
The voice was smothered. No unfamiliar anger stirred this time.
She was glad. Victoria was her friend, Max didn’t want to be angry at her.
Besides, why would it be Max’s choice?
Nothing had ever been her choice, when it came to Victoria.
“What party?” She said, voice soft and petulant and weak.
“Later this week. Every member of the Vortex Club is joining, and this is my chance to get you properly dressed up for the first time. I swear, those clothes become less and less acceptable every passing day, Maxine.”
“Max.”
Her voice was insistent this time - but still weak. Victoria acted like she hadn’t said a word.
Like always.
“...I like my clothes.” She said softly. Suddenly. She blinked a little at the sound of her own voice.
She hadn’t meant for that sentiment to come out.
“But we can change them.”
Ah, there was the characteristic weakness.
Victoria smiled, pleased and approving.
Like I’m a pet that just did a trick.
The voice was so soft, so quiet, that she could yet again smother it without a single bit of irritation stirring in her chest.
“Great. I’m looking forward to seeing you a little dressed up, Maxine.”
“...Are we going shopping?”
Her voice was still soft, but with just a little hope in it this time.
She liked shopping for clothes.
“Of course. Not like I own anything your size.”
Victoria had at least six inches on her.
She couldn’t help the small, happy smile that spread across her face. Victoria - who had lolled her head back, exposing as much of her fragile neck as she could seemingly subconsciously - glanced up.
She blinked when she saw the smile.
There was something odd in the lines of her face, that Max didn’t quite recognize. Something soft, and vulnerable - a crack in the shiny cold, steel veneer of perfect confidence.
Max spent a moment to wish she saw it more often - but didn’t have time to try and keep it there before the steel curtains closed over Victoria’s eyes again. When she stood, her movements looked a tiny bit stiffer then usual.
“Well, that’s all. I’ll be out of your hair.”
Max blinked.
Victoria usually… lounged, for a while. It was part of their routine, unacknowledged and secretive. Victoria would come in, all confidence and loose limbs - talk about how her room was a dump and she needed a new one - and then lounge for a while. They had an unspoken agreement - Max never asked why she was here, and never asked her to leave.
Of course, the agreement was only beneficial to Victoria - but still.
“Are you… sure? I mean, you could… stay…”
Her voice was even softer this time. Weak, and petulant - like always. It was just an offer, and yet, it sounded like she was pleading.
Either way, Victoria didn’t acknowledge her. She left, closing the door with her usual slight flourish.
It looked less effortlessly posh, and more… tense. Strained.
She stared after the girl for a long moment, before returning her eyes to the phone again.
She considered texting Chloe for only the shortest moment before dismissing the idea. She would be a bother - she didn’t want to interrupt whatever the punk was doing.
She very pointedly scrolled past Chloe’s it isnt a waste to talk to you, max without a glance.