And They Were Housemates ✓

Chapter XX | Max is Going to be Murdered

CW: Angsty flashback, Self harm (cutting), Transphobic slurs (t slur), homophobic slurs (f slur), being rejected by a crush (past)

A/N: This is all in the flashback so if you're uncomfortable, don't feel okay with or just don't want to read about that just don't read where I have marked in the flashback. I have a start warning and an end warning just to make it a little easier to find.

Kaylee pushed Max into the booth next to Bexon, completely unaware of the panicked look he gave her. Max did his best to act normal. It would be okay. He just had to get through breakfast then he would work out the rest of what the heck to do about last night.

They were all packed and checked out of the campground, however, Grace had mentioned getting breakfast before they all had to say goodbye from the vacation. The diner was simple, yet unique to see anymore. The atmosphere was laid back and the people who worked there seemed genuinely nice, something Max wasn't all that used to—then again working in the service industry most likely broke a person after a while.

The booth was small with all of them crammed around one table, Bexon's knee bumped into Max's every once in a while and it made the small bit of contact all the more difficult not to lean into.

Max had yet to talk with Bexon about the kiss or anything about last night. By the time he got the chance to be alone with Bexon, he was asleep in the tent already. Max knew they needed to talk about it, but he also knew it would probably be better if Kaylee wasn't around. The last thing either of them needed was for her to know anything that happened in that cave.

Max knew there wasn't going to be anything between him and Bexon or at the very least he knew there shouldn't be. Max knew that he was never going to be someone's choice, he knew he would never have a serious relationship that meant something to the other person.

Years of one-sided pining never ended well for him, crushes came and went, and it was just a matter of time. Max knew he still had time to at least save his friendship with Bexon, at least that was the more logical thing to do.

Max knew if he let himself feel again for someone it would lead him down the path of self-despair, loneliness, and thoughts that no matter how far he came from being the socially anxious middle schooler—that he would always carry the weight of the past with him. That he would always have reminders laced across uneven skin, reminders of what it took for him to stay alive as he silently screamed for help.

Once Max fell for someone it consumed him, he loved with everything he had and when it didn't work out—because it never works out—it destroys him.

The last time he gave in to his feelings he was sixteen and mentally he knew better. Going back and forth with living with his parents. When puberty hit, his mother wasn't sure how to handle him. Depressive episodes lasting longer and longer, Max refused to talk to anyone or tell them why he felt like every moment he breathed was wrong.

He had two attempts before he turned sixteen.

Twice while he was still living with his mother in Georgia, sending him to his dad for a change of scenery. Max finally figured it out one day when his dad was talking about a patient he had that day, seeing the proud look on the patient's face when he went in for his final visit after top surgery.

It was like something clicked that night with Max and he blurted out at the dinner table then and there he hated being labeled the way he was. His dad didn't seem surprised, nor did he hesitate to switch pronouns along with everything Max didn't even expect anyone to help him with.

He started testosterone at fifteen, came out to his mother over the phone, and his dad was able to pull some strings for Max to get top surgery while he was sixteen. It happened quickly, Max had been good for a while.