I've Got It Bad (And You'll Never Know) (BXB)

ix.

 Driving in a big city is a nightmare regardless of geographical location, but there are thousands of special places in Hell for the driving population of Boston, Massachusetts.

After haggling Lenny for the car, struggling to find it in the parking garage (Lenny didn't know which floor he parked on, the asshole), and peeling the fuck out while Google Maps was still calibrating, Jules took longer than he wanted to start heading in Max's direction. He kept hearing his promise of "15 minutes, I'll be there in 15 minutes." Thirty minutes after hanging up, he was stuck in traffic on the way across town, something that should've been a ten minute drive, easy, but apparently the whole fuckin' city was out on urgent business at close to midnight, meaning Jules, slightly out of practice as a driver, found himself getting repeatedly cut off.

He cursed at the cars in front of him, yelling and gesturing, but his hands were shaking. Was Max okay? Jules clenched the steering wheel and tried to send energy into the universe towards him: I'm on my way, I'll be there soon, I'm sorry I'm taking so long, please be okay.

The car clock read 12:03 as Julian finally turned onto Washington street, his eyes scanning the sidewalk for floppy caramel hair.

Max was a couple blocks past Flanagans, sitting at a bus station. The cute shirt he'd picked for the date looked crumpled, and his carefully selected brown leather jacket sagged off his shoulders a bit. He looked entirely ruffled in an uncharacteristic way.

Jules yanked the car over towards the shoulder, rolling down the passenger side window. "Max!"

He looked up, eyes red and wet. "You're here."

They stared at each other. Jules wanted to say, Did he hurt you? Do I need to go beat him with my prosthetic? Because I'm in love with you, maybe now more than I ever have been, and I'll fucking kill that guy if you let me. What he actually said was, "Get in the car, dumbass, you'll freeze to death!"

Max looked startled by the tone, but not angry. His mouth even quirked towards smiling for a brief second. He stood, pushing his jeans back into order with his palms, and walked towards Lenny's Dark Green Mini Cooper.

("A Mini Cooper? You fuckin' kiddin' me?" Jules had said incredulously.

"Fuck you. It's affordable. And a total fuck wagon if you put the back seats down."

Jules shuddered. "You're tryin' to make me believe you've had sex in this car?"

Lenny shrugged with a devilish look in his eye. "I played the trumpet in High School. I got a way with my tongue. Chicks dig it."

Julian snatched the keys while pretending to gag.)

Max climbed into the passenger's seat delicately, as if scared of something. He pushed the leather jacket off his shoulders.

"Seatbelt?" Jules quietly suggested.

"Aren't you gonna say that you told me so?"

Julian's eyebrows knit. "Max, I know you think I'm a total asshole, but--"

Max's head snapped in Jules' direction, and he saw the boy's eyes full of fresh, hot tears. "No, I don't, I think you were right and I didn't fuckin' listen because I'm so wicked stubborn and I think I know things but I don't know jackshit and I let people hurt me because I put them on a pedestal in my mind and won't let nobody say anything about it even if they're just tryin' to help me--"

"Max!" Jules interrupted, grabbing his friends' shoulders. "Stop it! You're hyperventilatin', dude!"

And he was. Breathing heavily, crying, shaking. When Jules laid his hands on Max's shoulders, Max's hands flew up to grab his wrists, trying to anchor himself, trying to focus on anything but the shame and anger bubbling like witch's brew in his stomach.