My Roommate Max... A Max Schneider Fan Fiction

Chapter Thirty-Seven: A Few Minutes

~ It's not always rainbows and butterflies, it's compromise that moves us along ~

Chapter Thirty-Seven: A Few Minutes

All couples fight.

It's a simple fact known to all people, widely accepted. It isn't a theory, it isn't some strange philosophy. It's a pure, indisputable fact that all couples have arguments now and then. Max and I, no matter how in love and how stuck to each other we were, we were no exception to that fact.

I pulled my knees to my chest, leaning back against the couch. I scratched behind Hunter's ear as I sighed, feeling my walls building and my emotions shutting down. Dani padded over and plopped down on my other side, and I gently lifted her into my lap, loving on her. Both of the dogs knew what was going on, they could sense the tension in the air around us. Max and I were fighting; our first fight. (I refuse to count the week we'd spent apart when we broke up as a fight... I've blocked that memory from my mind as best I could.)

I don't even remember what we were fighting over anymore; something stupid, I'm sure. I wasn't really worried, I knew this wouldn't tear us apart or anything like that, because like I said, all couples argue. But I still didn't like fighting with the love of my life, I didn't like not having him next to me.

Our arguments, I came to realize, were surprisingly quiet. There was no raised voices, no yelling, none of that. We were both just audible when we spoke to each other, little emotion conveyed in either of our voices; and I didn't like it. I would have almost rather they be yelling, screaming fights than our cutting, quiet ones.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," Max spoke quietly. I heard the jingle of his keys as I curtly nodded, drawing comfort from the two puppies. I heard him sigh slightly, before he opened the front door. "I love you, Blakely," he told me.

I was quiet for a moment, before responding with an "I love you too, baby." I almost thought he was going to turn around and come back in, but he thought better of it, stepping outside and closing the door behind him. I couldn't help but smile slightly, drawing assurance from him telling me he loved me; he never left the house without telling me he loved me first. If he left without me, if he was running to the store real quick or something, he'd always tell me he loved me before walking out the door, no matter what I was doing. Even if I was asleep, if I was in the bathroom... He'd wait, or he'd wake me up, just to let me know he loved me.

I asked him about it once, one day when we were here just hanging out and he'd left to go get us coffee from Starbucks. He'd just smiled and laughed, tangling his ankles with mine as he sat down, quietly strumming his ukulele at the opposite end of the couch from me. He looked at me adoringly as he explained.

"I never want to leave the house without telling you I love you," he began. "Because I never know if it'll be the last time I ever see you. I don't know if something will happen to me, or, god forbid, something happen to you, or anything like that. And if it does, I never want there to be any doubt in your mind that I loved you with every part of me; I want that to be the last thing you hear from me. Even if we're fighting when I leave, I will always tell you that I love you before I leave this house without you."

He'd, of course, stunned me into silence. I hadn't expected such a serious answer, such a long thought process behind the simple action. He'd come close to making me cry with his explanation, and I think I would've, had he not smiled and laughed softly, put his uke beside him on the floor, and crawled over to hug me and hold me. We fell asleep on the couch that night, just laying there, talking, laughing, cuddling. The memory was sweet and soft, and made me give a small smile, despite our current fight.

I checked the time on my phone, seeing it was almost eight. I had two classes tomorrow, almost four hours where I'd barely get to see Max. It seemed silly to fight with him now. I frowned at myself, sighing again.