Pairing: Lumax, for @soccer1119 !
Max moved to Hawkins in the fall of 1984, with her fiery hair that matched the fall colors and her blue eyes that matched the autumn sky. Even though she was from across the country, she seemed to belong here, somehow, with the way she fit so seamlessly into the boys' group. When Eleven disappeared and Will came back to life, it sent a shock-wave through the group's dynamic; Mike missed El terribly, Will seemed distant and nervous (more than he'd been before), and Dustin and Lucas were left to try and cheer up their best friends. It all felt off. But when Max arrived, Max with her untamed red hair and her loud laugh and her too-big hand-me-down clothes, she fit in like a puzzle piece that had been missing. And in such a tight-knit group, one piece made all the difference. She was different like them, another warrior in a group of misunderstood kids who, despite feeling outcast by everyone else, cared about each other fiercely. She was another person to talk to, to laugh with and to play with but also to lift up when she showed up with bruises on her arms and tears on her face. After all, they were misfits; they'd all been there, and there was no way they were letting anyone else go through that alone. And so Max became a friend, a best friend, to each of the boys.
As September was replaced by the biting winds of October, it felt as if Max had been there for years, not just a month. The boys looked up to her; she was a girl, sure, but she shattered any stereotypes as she was the fiercest and the toughest. She did things they were too scared to do, said things they wouldn't dare repeat. The first time Troy bothered them during recess, he'd already found a name to call Max: Gingersnap. It wasn't even a mean name, but the sneer on his face when he said it ground Max's gears. As he went down the line - Frogface, Midnight, Toothless, Queer - Max's face only got redder.
"At least it's not Douchebag," she spat, and in a blur that the boys all seem to recall a little differently, she left Troy with a bloody nose and a fearful look on his face. He didn't bother them for awhile after that.
Max was tough for sure, tougher than any of the boys, but she struggled at home more than anyone. So Max, the proud princess who told off bullies and left them running and afraid, let herself collapse in Mike's basement and in Castle Byers, and they let her. She could finally be weak, she could finally feel cared for without feeling ashamed. But she was not weak, the boys knew it and they insisted it. She was so strong and so brave, and Lucas was always the most persistent in reminding her. When she showed up to play Dungeons & Dragons with a new cigarette burn on her wrist, a silence fell over the group, because they knew but they also knew that Max preferred to pretend it wasn't real, that it didn't happen, that she was tougher than she was. As much as the boys wanted to help her, she came to them to not talk about it, to forget about it. Most of the time, she would just show up and they would see, they would see the look in her eyes and the shine on her cheeks, and she would just cry and they wouldn't ask, wouldn't tell, but they would hug her and distract her with happier things.
On a windy night, a week before Halloween, the boys and Max were sitting around the table in Mike's basement, vigorously rolling dice and shouting numbers. That day, Max had shown up with an angry bruise just under her left eye, and had insisted on coming through the basement door. She knew Karen Wheeler would freak if she saw it because she was kind and the kind of mom Max wished she had, but she just had her dad and Billy and a house that felt empty and scary. With a tremble in her voice that everyone pretended not to notice, she had said, "Don't worry. I left him with some nasty ones too." And so they all gave her a hug, she promised she would be okay, and they took her mind off of it with a nine-hour campaign of monster-fighting and princess-saving.
As the boys started to leave one by one, Mike made sure that Max didn't want him to tell his mom, to do something, anything, but she insisted that she was fine and that she was handling it as well as a thirteen-year-old girl could handle something like this. After all, she was the tough one. That night, Lucas left with her, hoping she would let him take her home. He couldn't say it was because he was worried; she'd definitely say no, so he said he just wanted to talk about comics. Max slipped her faded yellow hoodie over her head, and Lucas put on his red fur-lined coat and they both shivered at the same time before laughing about it.
Lucas picked his bike up from the side of Mike's house and Max tucked her board under her arm until they got to the street, where they both hopped on their rides of choice. They talked about the newest issue of X-Men until the warm glow of Max's house lights appeared. As Max skidded to a stop, Lucas did, too.
"What're you doing?" Max asked, her nose wrinkled a little in confusion.
"I- just wanted to say goodnight," Lucas said, suddenly realizing this was stupid and that he had no plan on what to do or say.
"Oh. Well, night, Lucas. See you at school tomorrow?" Max's tone was blunt, always straight-to-the-point, but her eyes always betrayed her mouth. The slight raise of her eyebrows and the smiling glint in her eyes said everything; she insisted to herself that feelings weren't for tough girls, but she couldn't hide everything.
"Uh, yeah," Lucas replied, wishing he'd planned this better, wishing he had some other way to stall so he could talk to her and admire her freckles and copper hair. As he started to slide a leg back over his bike, he stopped. "Max?"
She hadn't gone anywhere, and she just shrugged, signaling for Lucas to talk.
"I know you don't, like, talk about all this," he started, pausing to wave his hands in a gesture towards her house, "But...can we? Ever?" He stepped closer, so he was maybe a foot away, and for once Max didn't get defensive and back away.
Instead, she lifted a hand to her cheek, where her black eye was, and sighed. "There's nothing to say. My brother's an asshole, and my dad isn't around enough to care."
Lucas took one step closer, slowly and carefully. "What about the rest of us? And- I mean, what about me? I care. That's why we're- friends." He seemed to choke on the word friends, as if he'd wanted to say something else, but couldn't.
Max looked at the ground, shuffling her feet anxiously. He's right. They- he deserves to know more about me, after all he's done for me. Just let someone IN, Max, let someone HELP you! she pleaded to herself. You finally found someone who understands, and you're gonna shut him OUT? With a resigned sigh, a small smile came across her face as she closed the distance between them.
"Yeah, I- I guess you're right. But, I gotta go for now, okay? Billy, he's gonna be- mad. You know him," she said quietly, feeling the strangest heat behind her cheeks. Blushing? Over a BOY?
That answer seemed good enough for Lucas, and he smiled a little half-smile and opened his arms for a hug; Max wasn't the hugging type, but it seemed like a good time to try. To his surprise, she returned it with a bear hug, squeezing until he felt he couldn't breathe. He could've sworn she whispered "thank you" into his ear. She would be okay, he was sure of it. She was braver than he would ever be, stronger than he could ever hope to be.
That hug seemed to last longer than the five seconds it did, but something even stranger happened as they pulled away. Max held onto Lucas's shoulders, and, with a shy smile and an uncharacteristic giggle, she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Lucas stood for a moment, stunned, then breathed a sigh of relief and smiled at his friend.
"Thank you, Lucas. Really thank you," Max said, her cheeks redder than her hair. As the front door swung open and Billy stepped outside, Max quickly waved goodbye and called, "We'll talk soon! Promise!" Then she slipped into the brightness of her house, and Lucas had only the sound of his heart beating through his chest to listen to on the way home.
