And They Were Housemates ✓

Chapter XLV | Maxwell Moore is an Ass

CW: Car Accident (mentioned), Medical Content, Death of a Sibling (mentioned), Panic Attacks/Disorders

Bexon had fallen asleep on the couch while he waited for Max to get home. It wasn't late at all, however, Bexon was a constant problem when it came to having a good sleep schedule so when he was able to get comfy and doze off for a little, he would.

Though this time was not nearly as peaceful as he had thought. When he woke up to the person nudging him Bexon was able to curse them out when he looked up to see Lester. The man didn't look as joking and off as his own land as he usually seemed to, the expression on his face of someone with bad news. Some kind of faked calmness and reassuring words that things would be fine.

Bexon had heard them before. He had dealt with bad news nearly daily at some points of his life. Though he was still very unprepared for Lester to be waking him with a sense of urgency.

"What the fuc—"

"Not the time for banter," Lester spoke seriously.

Bexon sat up.

"I am going to tell you something and I want you to know if it was anything hugely concerning I would tell you. However, everything is under control."

Bexon wanted to slap the man for taking his time and talking to Bexon like he was a three year old about to hear some bad news.

"Max was in a car accident and I need someone to drive me to the hospital to make sure he is okay, his mom just called me—since she is the first emergency contact—and I'd just like to be there in case—"

Lester trailed off at that point or Bexon had stopped listening to him. He had gotten up, causing Socks to jump from her point on the couch and run down the hall to whoever's room was open.

Bexon didn't say anything as he pulled on a pair of tie-dyed crocs too out of it to notice they were his boyfriends and one of the most ridiculous pairs of shoes he had ever seen. At the moment he didn't care.

All Bexon could think of was his mother and sister, all the time he had spent grieving them he was not about to have to go through that again with his boyfriend. He would march down to the pits of Tartarus or the Elysian Fields and drag that blond motherfucker out himself.

Normally and under any other situations, Bexon was extremely picky about people driving his car. Lucas was the only other person who had driven it and even then Bexon was high so there was no way he would be driving and he also trusted Lucas to drive like grandma Zhao—from the dead.

Though this time he didn't think twice when he let Lester take his keys from his shaking hands. Bexon got in the passenger side, getting lost in his thoughts even more than he already was.

It was happening all over again.

It was like the morning he got to see Cassandra, bruised and lying in a hospital bed. All he could hear was the deafening sound of the heart monitor, how he watched it flat line after the doctors were unable to do anything.

How he felt alone at that moment.

All Bexon could see was red from the flipped car, as a kid, he didn't think anything of it that night. The accident was too far away to see much more than the lights flashing around him, however, when he thought back to that night the realization hit him. It was all-consuming, and he knew he wouldn't be able to do this.

If something happened to Max, if he lost him before he even got to really be with him, before he got to know the amazing person who someone liked him—Bexon wasn't strong enough.

"Bexon, I'm sure he's going to be fine. The doctors will have him up and back to normal soon enough, I'm sure of it," Lester spoke, his voice was nothing like Bexon's. It was calm and steady, sure that the people at the hospital would help Max.