Dorks and Punks

Max was freaking out.

It vaguely reminded her of having a panic attack. The thought of which still nearly sent her into a panic attack.

She had had a fucking panic attack. The very idea was ridiculous.

Her! Maxine Caulfield-

Her head spun.

Max. Max Caulfield.

It was safer not to think about her full name right now.

She still hadn’t spoken to a soul. She couldn’t. Not in this environment, in this dress - in this re-branded her.

For a moment, a half-familiar spike of white-hot anger went straight through her chest. Painful, and unbidden.

It hurt to think.

She didn’t like this.

She didn’t like it!

Her hands ran into her hair.

Her breaths went shallow.

She didn’t even have the comforting feeling of her bangs, hanging between her fingers.

Because her hair was tied back.

Another spike went through her, between her fifth and sixth ribs. Hot. Thorny. Painful.

Anger.

She had almost forgotten what it felt like, to be angry.

Once. Once, she had been angry. Once, she had been stomped upon - and she had cried at the injustice of it all, cried hot tears of shame and rage.

But not anymore.

Not anymore.

The anger died in a wave of fear.

Blaring. Loud. Consuming, overwhelming, filling-

“Hey - hey, hey there - breath. Shhhh. Breath.”

Victoria.

A painful gasp. Her eyes watered.

A gentle hand on her back - rubbing soothing circles against her skin.

And guiding her out onto a balcony.

So Ice Queen Victoria won’t be seen with a blubbering mess.

And yet - the expected shame never came.

“Hey… shhh… it’s alright, Maxine, it’s alright-”

Suddenly, the nauseousness gave way.

To rage.

She threw the hand off her shoulder, and whipped around.

Red flashes.

She had forgotten this feeling.

Bubbling, provoked, like brilliant eyes dilating - radii grew, abyss thickened.

She knew nothing.

The words were ripped from her throat - foggy, uncomprehended, from something at her very core; buried so deep she had thought it dead.

Defiance.

“My name is MAX!”

Victoria stumbled back a step - icy paris-green eyes wide and unfiltered.

And, just like that - the anger vanished.

She fell back.

“Oh God - I, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

For a moment, Victoria was just staring at her.

Something happened in her eyes. Something watery seemed to flood her irises - even while sparks flew from her flinty pupils.

She stared, hunched in on herself, filled with hot shame and icy nauseousness, mixing together in a lukewarm slew of something painful.

And then, sheets of iron slammed home in Victoria’s eyes.

“No. You didn’t mean it.”

And then the blonde was standing straight - and every inch Victoria had on her was suddenly more obvious then ever.

“This is for your own good, Maxine.”

She felt herself stumble back, and she gripped the railing - because suddenly Victoria was right there, and her eyes were sharp and impossibly cold.

Controlling.

Willful.

“Your name. Say it.”

She floundered.

Her breaths shallowed.

“I said say it.” Victoria said - and there was no room in her voice for mercy.

“M-Ma-Maxine.”

Victoria grinned - but it wasn’t the same grin. Not the wide, approving, predatorial one from the bathroom.

This one was ice cold, and sharp as daggers.

“Good. Again, now - no stuttering this time, hm?”

There was nothing yielding in her voice this time. Nothing satisfied. Nothing kind, or approving, or-

Or loving.

That was the emotion she hadn’t been able to put her finger on.

Loving.

The love was gone now.

Suddenly, Victoria wasn’t very pretty at all.

“Maxine.” She repeated - her head hung, her voice barely a whisper.

A cold, pale hand with thin fingers wrapped around her chin, and tilted her head back up.

Beautiful eyes peered directly through her.

“Like you mean it this time, okay?”

Something about Victoria’s voice suggested that she thought she was being kind.

But there was nothing kind in those eyes.

Max recognized the tone. It was…

It was the fake, condescending one she had used in class, before she and Max were friends.

It was the tone of an icy veneer, with only steel-cold confidence behind.

Victoria expected obedience.

There wasn’t a choice.

(...But that wasn’t true.)

“Maxine.” She said again - and her voice was soft. Defeated. Trampled.

Not clear.

Not clean.

Not sharp.

Not confident.

And yet - and yet - Victoria smiled, like she had done it exactly right.

A hand tucked a hair behind her ear - gentle. Maybe even loving.

It meant nothing.

A shiver dripped down her spine.

For the first time - she wasn’t sure if it was arousal, or fear.

“There’s my girl.”

She trembled.

Victoria cupped her cheek, and her thumb traced beneath Max’s eyelid - like it was wiping away phantom tears.

“You know I only want what’s best for you, Maxine.”

...I thought I knew that.

She nodded meekly.

“Hey - look at me, Maxine.”

She glanced up - and regretted it.

Victoria smiled at her. Gentle and soft.

Possessive.

“You know I care about you, right?” She whispered.

“O-of course!” Max said instantly.

Of course Victoria cared about her.

...Why else would she do any of this?

“Good.” Victoria said, with another cold, condescending, masked smile - like she was a child that answered a question right.

Or a pet that just did a trick.

“And, because I care - I only want what’ll make you happy. This is for your own good, Maxine.”

She didn’t dare answer.

“Say it, Maxine. Say that this is for your own good.”

“This… this is f-for my own good.”

The words tasted sweet and rotten in her mouth.

“There we are. That wasn’t hard, was it?”

It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.

“N-no. It… it wasn’t hard.”

“And you believe it, right?”

She couldn’t catch the pause before it had already passed.

Victoria’s face hardened.

Before she even had a chance to say anything, Victoria cut her off.

“You don’t think I care about you.”

“No!” She cried, before she even had a chance to really think. “No, I-”

“But you don’t think I want what’s best for you?”

“I…”

She closed her eyes.

“...I do.”

Her voice barely managed not to waver.

Victoria didn’t answer, for a moment.

“...Well. Good. Just… know that this is all because I want you to be happy.”

(...But-)

She crushed the voice.

Victoria was her friend.

Her friend.

And she was acting like - like she was some stranger on the street, or a possessive child.

Victoria was her friend.

And Max trusted her.

And yet, the moment Victoria was gone - she cracked.

Her hands trembled as the screen of her phone lit up.

The number was dialed before she could think.

Bbbring.

Bbbring.

Bbbr-

“-Chloe Price, at the service of whatever whore called me?”

She closed her eyes.

Even just Chloe’s perfect voice grounded her.

“Sorry.” She whispered.

“Oh, God - Max? I - I didn’t mean that, I didn’t know it was you, I didn’t even check the number - shut up, Rachel, I’m trying to have a phone call here!”

“Rachel?” She repeated, softly.

“Yeah - uh, she’s the stoner friend. I swear to God, Rache, if you don’t be quiet-”

“Oh, I’m - I’m interrupting you.” She mumbled, hunching in on herself-

(When had she fallen on the floor?)

-and trying to repress the shame brewing in her gut. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even think. I’ll leave you to-”

“No! Jesus, Max - we’ve had this talk before - talking to you isn’t, a, waste. Period. You just caught me at a - Rachel, don’t you dare-!

...Hello?”

She blinked.

“...Hello?”

“Yeah, hi! - Chlo, stop, I’m trying to - heh - I’m trying to talk to her!”

She heard a distant, oddly Chloe-like voice.

“Uh - who’re you, again?”

She could hear the grin in the person’s voice.

“Oh, hiya, I’m - oh, hold on one moment, Chloe’s being a big baby. Did I tell you about when she did LSD? She thought she could take it, for some reason - Chloe, geez, I’m trying to tell a story here!”

The stew of shame, embarrassment, and fear in her stomach was already dissipating. An unfamiliar smile, wide and giddy and a little sly, began to stretch her face.

“Are you this mysterious ‘Rachel’? Because if so, you have to tell me every embarrassing story one of these days.”

She heard a perfect, sparkling laugh.

“Oh, I like you already - Max, right? Whoops, hold up - Jesus, Chloe, calm down, I’m giving it back! It was nice talking to you, M- alright, alright!

Uh… hi. Sorry about her. Shut up, Rache. I’m gonna get somewhere a little more private - uh, what’s up?”

She was already feeling a little stupid for calling.

She already felt nearly fine again.

“I just… wanted to hear your voice.” She whispered - and her face felt like it was frying against her skull.

“...Oh.”

She couldn’t help but snicker.

“You say that a lot.”

“Uhm. I. It’s. I just kinda… default to it? I - shut. Up. Rachel.”

She felt a wide smile stretch her face again.

“What’s Rachel saying?”

“She’s just being her usual unbearable self - I TAKE BACK EVERYTHING GOOD I’VE EVER SAID ABOUT YOU! - you know what, maybe I should just go outside - gimme the jacket, Rache.”

She giggled into her palm. It was an ugly sound, nasally and awful.

She let herself be awful, though.

Just this once.

“Aww, what made bad gurl Chloe all flus-

Go. Away. Rachel.”

That almost got her.

For a moment, her head fell back - and a wave of amusement went over her.

She choked.

Because the laugh that had just threatened to bubble up was a bit more forceful then she had been ready for.

“Woah - hey, you - you alright there, Maxxie?”

She made a tiny, disbelieving noise.

“Maxxie?”

“...Uh. That’s. Max, I mean. Max.”

“No, I… I mean. You can call me whatever.” She said instantly - and felt red-hot itchiness crawl along her face.

“Oh. Then… uh. Uhm. Right, uh. Gimme a moment here, M - Maxxie.”

“...Okay.” She whispered.

Maxxie.

Warmth curled contentedly in her stomach.

And, suddenly, the creak of door hinges pierced the barely-there pressure of the silence.

She looked up.