Snapshot · (Roswell Fanfiction) · √

3. Strange Comfort

Roswell High School
Thursday noon
(2003) Max is 18, Liz is 17

Liz stepped out into the sun and spotted Max sitting at his usual place by the large tree.

Walking up behind him, she watched the shadow from her shape fall over his sunken body and stated tonelessly, "So...you've been avoiding me."

Normally she couldn't care less if he was around or not. Normally she actually preferred if he was very far away from her. But Michael had lent Max her CD player about a week earlier, much to Liz's alarm when she was informed of this little trade, and he had yet to return it. She needed her music. She lived for her music.

And she was convinced that the reason Max was dodging her in the halls - everywhere really - was because he had either lost or broke her valuable CD player.

She stared at the back of his head, her eyes burrowing through his skull, trying to reach into his head to uncover whatever clues there might be to where he had hid her possession.

He didn't reply.

Didn't even acknowledge her presence.

Firmly planting her hands on her hips, she bit out, "Did you break it?"

"Leave me alone."

His reply was low, spoken without a single movement on his part.

He was slowly, but surely, pissing her off. "What have you done with it? It's not yours, you know."

"Fuck off."

She squeezed her lips together. "Don't you speak to me like that."

He sighed and said tiredly. "Just leave, Parker."

Taking a firm grip on the strap of her backpack that was hanging off her shoulder, she walked around him to face him. He was staring into the ground. Nothing in his hands. Just sitting. And staring.

Liz frowned. There was something really odd about this picture. She mentally shrugged it off.

"I want my CD player. And I want it now."

He didn't answer and she was just about to start yelling when he looked up at her. Complete with glistening red eyes.

She choked on the words she had been planning to say.

"I really don't care about your fucking CD player," he said evenly and she swallowed.

Was he crying?

Why was he crying?

She had never seen him cry.

Never.

Except that time when his dog died. They had just been kids then. Max had cried. A lot.

Oh no...

Had someone die?

"What's wrong?"

Her concerned soft voice had him dropping his eyes back to the ground.

"Nothing."

She fell to her knees in front of him, not really sure why she did it before she found herself bending her head underneath his to force him to look at her.

"Max-"

He snapped his head away from hers, scooting backwards. "What the hell, Parker?"

She bit her bottom lip to stop herself from exploding on him. This was one of those times her mother used to refer to as 'delicate'.