Bloody Nose {Max Mayfield x OC}

Face to Face

    When I wake up I feel sad. The feeling of things getting ripped away is almost familiar, like a black cat that follows at your heels who ocasionally claws at your ankles and calfs. You get used to the claws and the blood that follows, and even give up on trying to nurse your wounds all together. Sometimes, though, the claws get to a part of you that seems to be more sensitive than the rest.

    I think about my mother and especially about the nightmare I just had. We were fighting all over again, everything following word for word.

    Pack your shit and get out of my house you fucking fag, she yelled. I remember bracing myself for the slap, except instead the floor boards opened up and I fell into a void so dark and black that anything devoid of light would be jealous. I would eventually hit the ground and I had sat there trying to make anything out before a horrible stench would hit my nose. The hair on my arms rose because I was afraid, so afraid. The same putrid stench that wafted from the demogorgon that night in the woods only grew stronger. I could feel it's warm breathe against my face before it let out a blood curdling yell that shook me out of the dream.

    Now I'm awake before even the sun has risen and all I can really make of Max's room is the sillouhette of her dresser. Her arms are still stretched around me. How could this be wrong?

The others might find out, no they will end up finding out. That's how things like this go. Maybe they'll hate us. Maybe Max might even throw me under the bus to save her own ass. I don't know anymore.

I think about all of the scenarios that might go down and the rooms lightens to a hazy gray.

"Max come in! Over!" The radio on her dresser sounds. It's Lucas.

Max groans and sits up, the blankets falling off of her as she does so. Her body heat escapes and leaves a bitter void as she slides off her bed.

I, too, sit up and watch as the red head angrily snatches the walkie-talkie.

"What the actual fuck do you want Lucas!" She shouts into the plastic, "It's six in the morning!"

"I'm your boyfriend Max, believe it or not," Lucas's voice computes. I almost laugh when he says that. "Anyway, meet me and the others at the field from last night,"

"El is still injured!"

"It wasn't my idea," The boy says blankly. "Just be there in like a half an hour,"

Max slams the walk-talkie in its holder and falls on the bed.

"Fuck!" She shouts "Why can't he take a hint!"

"We should probably go," I start, resting a hand on Max's arm (I'm surprised to find I have the confidence to do such a thing), "It's probably important,"

Max sits up and leans towards me, her lips landing on mine. My heart is beating so fast I fear it might straight up leap out of my chest.

"Yeah but I would much rather do that," She says when pulls away. I would prefer just to kiss her all day as well, however apparently there isn't a lot of time for kissing when you have literal Mind Flayer with Nazi ideologies roaming the Earth.

    We both got ready to see what the hell the others had gotten themselves into within the seven hour period we were gone. Despite it still being early, today was hot, even for July, and I already felt the back of my shirt sticking to my back. As Max and I walked down Old Cherry Lane, I noticed two things. 

    1.) Max was angry, more so than usual. I thought about how she screamed at the walkie-talkie just because her "boyfriend" was on the other line.