Snapshot · (Roswell Fanfiction) · √

34. Because of You

Max's Apartment
Late Monday
(2008) Max is 23, Liz is 22

Max opened the door and to his surprise found Liz on the other side.

She looked up at him, with an attempted smile slightly pulling at the corners of her mouth, and said seriously, "Hey."

She had never been to his apartment alone. She had in fact only been at his place twice. Once for the house warming party and once to pick him up when Michael, she and Max were going rock climbing.

Both times in Michael's company.

"Liz," he stated slowly, the shock at her presence softening his voice.

His eyes fell on her pale face, porcelain even in the grey of the dark hallway, and were drawn to the shine of her large eyes.

"Do you want to come in?"

She nodded. "Okay."

She was lacking her normal air of defensiveness as she slowly walked past him into the modestly lit apartment and Max slowly closed the front door behind her.

"What's up?"

She had stopped in the middle of the TV-room, which co-functioned as eating area and kitchen, looking incredibly small as she squeezed her arms tightly around her waist while her eyes scanned the surroundings.

"I know it's weird for me to come here-"

"It's fine," Max interrupted and noticed the tremble that went through her even though she was standing several feet from him. "Are you okay?"

She turned and looked at him, for the first time since she had stepped into the apartment, and opened her mouth to respond but fell silent as her eyes fell upon his face. The face that had before been hidden in the shadows but that she could now see perfectly clearly in the light from the nearby lamp.

"Oh my God," she gasped and stepped up to him.

Before he had time to step back, her fingers were lightly grazing the purple area that was starting to form over his chin.

"It's fine," he said quietly, holding his breath under her ministrations.

"It's not fine," Liz said angrily. "God, Max. You need ice on that."

As if he was a disobedient child, she sighed and walked past him into the small kitchen area. "Do you have any frozen peas?"

He turned and watched her rip the door to the freezer open. "I hate peas."

"What do you eat?" Liz asked as she stared at the empty freezer.

Max shrugged and leaned against the back of the couch. "Pizzas."

"Gross," Liz mumbled and started to pull out drawer after drawer in the kitchen, filling the room with clinking cutlery.

"You might want to keep it down," Max yelled at her over the noise. "I have neighbors that like to sleep at this hour."

"Do you have a spatula?"

He rolled his eyes, walked up to her and took a hold of her elbow to stop her from continuing to run her hand through the contents of the drawer. Silence enveloped them again. "Do I look like I own a spatula?"

"You're completely useless, do you know that?" Liz murmured and pulled her arm free of his grip.

"What do you need it for?" he asked.

"Ice. I need to break off ice." She glanced at his face and he imagined he could see concern flash in her eyes, and then she was back to searching the drawers. "We need to get that swelling down."