it's you and me | lumax

somewhere only we know

a/n
i put more effort into this than some of my essays PLEASE DROP AN INCONVENIENT LITTLE STAR THING I'M BEGGING YOU

guide for the povs:
verse 1 - M
pre chorus - M
verse 2 - M
pre chorus - L
chorus - L
pre chorus - i'm not repeating this
chorus - M
outro - both

sorry this is so complicated lmao
also: idk how comas work nor did research any medical ish so yeah. correct me if i'm so very wrong.
_______________________________

There's a sound, somewhere in the place where she lingers. Shadows pass her by, the movement disturbing her slumber. She doesn't remember when nor how, but a sense of awareness has since been returned to her. 

Her. Who is she? What is her name? It's been a while since... Since what? Since she fell into this deep, dark abyss and couldn't find her way out. It's becoming familiar, this place, after timeless wanderings all over. She'd planned on embarking on a journey through to a better place. She's not sure where, just somewhere where a piece isn't missing from her. Many pieces.

One of those pieces was a name. Her name was... Max. Yes, Max... Mayfield. 
Max Mayfield.
Max Mayfield.
Max Mayfield.

And who was she? A mirror every day would reflect her ginger locks, fair skin and blue eyes. Every morning, a routine would be passing a taller woman, like her, ginger hair and blue eyes - mom. Her mother was Susan Hargro- no, Mayfield. There were two other shadows that had once lived with them in California too. Max somehow knows not to place their names, all she knew was that they were no good. If her mother bore the last name Mayfield, then her father was Sam Mayfield. That man who forged IDs, a people person, who never fought for her back. Yes, these people were her parents, her family. 

But there were others, weren't there? She had friends too, after California. Where was this place after that sunny state? She doesn't remember yet, but she now sees autumn leaves falling around her, a grey cloud rolling over the clearer skies. Then a group of four boys, hiding behind a fence to stare at her. Each one of them, she can't place their names right now. There's a short, bowl-cut dude, a tall, annoyed looking one, a curly haired one, then the last boy - her breath hitches. 

This boy, she knows his name. Chocolate skin, kind, loving eyes. This boy is Lucas Sinclair, and he is hers. She recalls a girl now too, dark hair slicked back with gel, transformed into a doll with purple eyeshadow, gown too big on her small body. There are more people - some guy with big hair and sunglasses, a brunette girl with wide, watchful eyes and the other girl with a dirty blonde fringe under a sailor hat. Though the names aren't there, she knows. These people are her best friends, they are her real family. 

Max remembers a skateboard, Madrid, brandished with stickers. A pocket full of quarters and a video game at the arcade. Red sunglasses, a shopping bag, a spinning bottle. A Sony Walkman and a Kate Bush cassette, a letter in hand and a broken heart. Then a boy trying to fix it. That family, too.

All of these things were what made her to be that girl she once was, somewhat complete, ready to live on. The girl she wants to be again.

But where are these people? Where is this filling life before her, was it stolen away? A clawed hand flashes before her face. Where is her boy, where has he fled to? Time is moving too fast, the world spinning before her and under her feet where she stands. She now feels the fatigue in her bones and pain in her skull. If only there were something to hold onto, somewhere to begin. Could her family come back and show her the way? If they couldn't know how, maybe she'll try.