Loving Someone | ✓

six

part six - before there was him, there was max

7 years ago

" happy birthday, tee,"

" go away," she groaned pulling the comforter above her head. a load roar of laughter echoed her room; the owner had pull the comforter completely of the bed. " jesus, max!"

she groaned covering her face with her hand as her last form of defense. max smiled, the bed dipped as he climbed on and kisses spread from the freckled arm to her fingers. " wake up, loser."

she sighed and peeled her hands away. his eyes were plain brown, rings of dark circles completed the look. his curly hair spilled over to his forehead matching his soft caramel skin as he leaned down and kissed the 19 years old.

he smiled, feeling her own lips forming into it against his.

" happy birthday, althea."

before there was him, the ares, god-like reckless lukasz piszczek, there was the music major who's hand was so calloused from the string picking maximillian spencer.

the boy who's hands could've challenged apollo.

and althea reus was so in love with him.

" thank you, max." she pushed herself up, lips attached to his as this time the kiss was longer. " you're 20 years old now." max muttered, his thumb rubbed her chin, softly as if he was feeling the imprint of her skin, " and i've loved you for 3 years." his eyes snapped to her and a childish grin etched on his face, " so, reus," he straightened up, pulling his best interviewer voice (quickly pulling his glasses from the bedside table), " how does it feel to be dating to the most talented and handsomest gent in germany?"

she chuckled and pushed him playfully.

(the answer: it was an ever lasting pleasure)

" it is the most nuisance shit i've ever done."

he rolled his eyes and ignored her reply. " althea," he gripped her wrist and pulled her closer, the question long forgotten, " i got you something," he smiled and she rolled her eyes. " we talked about this. no gifts oh my god, max."

" i had too. come on, that talk was 3 years ago. it's already expired." he brought his hand up and slowly caressed her cheek, " just remember me. that's all." his smile turned into a grin.

" i can't wait for you to have it."

it's his worn out ukulele. he tied a bow at the tip but it was his smile and the sincerity etched on his face that brought tears in her eyes.

" max , i-"

" shh," he kissed the corner of her lips, " so, your breakfast will never be bland and quiet anymore,"

so she cried more. her chest pained until suddenly it disappeared. she pulled from his arms and smiled. she swore she was at peace with herself.

she was

she was in her peace shit until she was sitting at the restaurant with her friends and marco and her family, waiting for some more parties to arrive and her love of her life.

" where is max again?"

she sighed and glanced at her watch, " he had to catch a bus from his uni. his car broke down."

" what did he get you anyway?" her older sister asked and thea smiled, " it's an ukulele." her sisters laughed but it didn't matter to her when max's face popped out on her phone. laugh all she wants but max is truly the actual best gift compared to that piece of worn out strings and wood.

"it's max excuse me," she pushed the chair behind and stood, away from the noisy table, " max where are you-"

" miss althea, we are from the police department of dortmund. a bus had crashed off the ledge of the bridge and crashed down. there's 12 passengers including the driver- we are sadly to announced max spencer had died on his way to the hospital."

she didn't cry. she didn't. " tee?" marco noticed her first. he always does- after all they are a part of each other. "marco, it's max." she muttered, her hand reached to grab whatever it is to hold her leg. she let marco took the phone away, her body numbed itself.

her chest restricted, her ribs were caging her pain, forcing them to stay. overwhelmed, she choked a sob.

now, her breakfast was quiet. and the ukulele sat under her bed at home, as every strum of the ukulele was his fingers calling for the touch of her skin.

and she's so afraid of it.

she was so afraid that his calloused fingers gonna called her back down to hell. the soft sound of his bare feet tapping on the floor as he brushed his teeth from across the hall. his bouncy curls who seemed to has the mind of his own, tangling around her fingers.

his glistening in sweat brown skin contrasting hers in bed, awakening her sexual desire to explore ever part of her.

she's haunted.

she shook the thought of max spencer away, lukasz was sitting next to her during the team's lunch. her hand shook, she was overwhelmed by a sudden sadness that hadn't come to haunt in years.

" hey, kiddo," he whispered and she swallowed a tear back. " yes?"

the next question didn't escape his lips. he stared down on her. " hold me." she choked, her eyes begging. she knew marcel was staring at them, at her for making a scene. " are you alright?" he asked again, holding her hand with both hands, his eyes roaming around to see if anyone noticed.

" i'll get her some water,"

marcel's voice shook him, with a hand in the pole's shoulder he left into the kitchen. " i just can't breath."

marcel returned with a bottle of cold water and a marco reus.

" i'm alright." she said flatly, to marco, " it's just some anxiety attack or something - i'm a captain for christ's sake!" she threw in some fake but solid laugh, trying to throw marco off the worry track. " you're shit liar and not even christian," he stood up, squeezing her arm and left back to his seat.

" so what's happening here?" marcel asked, clearly he had seen more enough to know lying is nothing but a fail plan.

lukasz and althea shared a look, same crook smiles and shrugs. marcel scoffed and returned to his half finished crème brûlée, " i'm not as dumb as marco's highlights."

his thumb traced a small circle for her attention and the eyes asked a simple question.

" yes, i want your crème brûlée." she nodded, and reached for her spoon. he let a small laugh, and pushed his plate (after all that is how he knows if she's truly alright.?)