MARLEY // Max Mayfield

Kiss And Make Up (Not In That Order)

Soft snores were what made up the majority of the noise within the Wheeler's basement, the only other sound the steady song of Kate Bush, singing sweet words through the headphones of Max's Walkman, only ever stopping when the cassette tape ended. It was soon popped up and rewound, others on hand for if the tape started to drag and Marley was on that duty, sitting across from Max who lay, staring up at the ceiling, mindlessly rewinding the tapes with a pencil -- never speaking for fear of breaking that fragile something that had settled over them ever since their tender moment at the cemetery, where they had held each other again like they used to.

The pencil fell away with a quiet scrape and Marley gently took the Walkman from beside her, her thumb idly caressing the peeling tag that named the device 'Property of Marley Harrington' -- she plopped the cassette back inside so that Kate Bush could renew her song and tore her eyes from the label. When it returned she stood with a quiet sigh, knees cracking as she approached Max and placed the Walkman by her hip, hooking the headphones gently over her ears. Their eyes briefly caught one another, Marley's red and tired while Max's were sort of scared and conflicted.

Marley pulled away first.

She moved to return to her spot at the foot of the couch. There, their routine renewed -- the quiet snores and Kate Bush the only sound between them.

Marley watched Max, she hadn't stopped, not once since they'd returned to the Wheeler's basement, she didn't even thank Robin and Nancy when they showed, too busy watching and observing, waiting for any sign Max would fall under again. She hadn't even slept, not even for a moment, too scared she'd close her eyes and Max would be gone when she opened them. Didn't help she kept thinking of that chime, that clock that signalled Max's death. She had hated clocks before but now, now she abhorred them, they taunted her and terrified her, they signified the dying light of a life.

"You should sleep," Marley looked up, startled by Max's voice only to look down again a moment later, shaking her head.

"I can't," she refuted. "I need to rewind your tapes."

"You don't need to do anything, the Walkman can do it automatically," Max said and Marley frowned. "You need to sleep, Marley."

"No, I don't," Marley refuted and looked back up, brows furrowed, "I want to rewind your tapes and besides, I almost lost you, ok? Do you really think I care about getting sleep?"

That earned no response and Marley settled again, an arm over one propped knee and her eyes gazing just off to the side of Max's face. She stared there for a while, frowning and shaking her head before she closed her eyes and sighed.

"Can we..." she began, opening them again and shifting her gaze back to Max, the girl already staring back, "can we talk now?"

"...ok," Max agreed quietly.

Marley softened a little, her expression still fatigued and worn but lightening just the slightest, eyes shining the tiniest, she shuffled closer so that she rested against the cushions of the couch, back facing Max's stomach so that if she inclined her head even a little she would see Max in her peripheral. Be able to gauge her expressions or her words by what she looked like when she spoke or listened.

"So?" Max prompted and Marley glanced at her, mouth a thin line before she sighed and leaned her head back.

"I couldn't tell you before but..." she bit the inside of her cheek, chewing over her words before she said them in hopes of it not turning into some useless word vomit, "but when you asked about what was so important I...ditched you. I just...I want you to know that -- that there is nothing more important to me than you."