maxmoefoe imagines

workaholic.

your pov —

"maybe you should head to bed soon, babe." you mumbled, placing your hands on his shoulders.

and you looked at his screen, he was editing nearly two hours of footage.

"max, did you hear me? it's 2 am, you should probably go to sleep now." you mumbled, wrapping your arms loosely around his shoulders, tucking your head into his neck.

and max shook off you his shoulders, "fuck off y/n,"

and you sighed, "i'm worried about you, you've been working all day, please just come to bed." you sighed softly, feeling defeated.

"why do you care so much about what i'm doing? seriously, you need attention that bad? jesus y/n." he muttered, not removing his eyes from the screen.

"max--" you protested feeling your heart break.

you had always felt like max's work came before you, but you always brushed off that idea before you got yourself too worked up about nothing.

"just go to sleep and leave me the fuck alone! give yourself attention, i have more important things to do here." he spat, and tears welled up in your eyes.

and you nodded, clearly you were not wanted here, and you desperately blinked away the falling tears.

you turned around on your heel and walked out of max's office, closing the door behind you as tears rolled down your cheeks.

all you were trying to do was take care of him, because you loved him, not because you wanted attention.

you knew he wouldn't be sleeping tonight with all that editing he needed to do, so you thought it would be helpful to tell him he should come to sleep.

and you walked downstairs and lay down on the couch, you couldn't sleep alone in your big bed upstairs without max, it's way too cold without him, and that would just make you more sad.

so you tucked yourself under the couches throw blanket and closed your tear filled eyes, falling asleep.

_________________

you and max hadn't talked in 2 days, this was a record for you two.

the original fight happened on monday night, it was wednesday night now.

the fight you had was constantly reoccurring, the fact that max worked so hard and didn't take care of himself.

if you don't make him food or force him to sleep, he wouldn't do it, and you cared too much about him to see him work himself until he collapses.

plus, you hated feeling needy, but with his busy work schedule you barely saw him or gave eachother any attention.

the longer your relationship went on, the more max worked and the less time he spent with you.

it was more like living with a roommate rather than a boyfriend.

was this max's way of showing you he was
done with you? and thought you should break up?

and you were taken out of your thoughts by a door slamming shut upstairs, and you prayed it was max coming down to see you.

and you turned around only to see max place a plate in the sink, then he turned back around and walked up the stairwell.

it was like your heart had actually just shattered.

maybe this was really it, maybe he was done. two years is a long time, i guess things change a lot in two years.