Definitely Not Dying (camp camp) (maxneil)(COMPLETED)

two

Max was incredibly frustrated with a lot of things. How his stupid body wouldn't stomach the stupid fucking WATER, for one. And Neil's idoitic inability to make any progress with saving him- deep down, Max knew that it wasn't Neil's fault, but he had to be angry at SOMEBODY.

Ered was somebody not to be frustrated with, though, and Max was grateful for that. She'd been totally on board with Max's plan, spreading lies to the campers that Max was doing better, he'd be out before the week, and was already back to his usual scheming self.

Only the latter of these were true. If he was destined to die, which seemed to be the case, considering how this whole thing was going, then he'd run away from the hospital, find a nice tree to hide out in, and die on his own terms. This way, the campers wouldn't have any clue whether or not he'd actually died- which would save him from a huge embarrassment.

Two people opposed to this plan, though, which was the third frustrating thing of the evening. He'd told Ered and Neil of his escape plan, and, while Ered was totally on board with it because she's cool as hell, Neil was not so willing to go along with it. And so, he told David. Max would've punched him if it didn't take so much energy.

"Now, now kiddo," David had said, and Max was greeted with Frustration Number Four, which was David's unfaltering cheerfulness, "You're not gunna die, so there's no need to be thinking like that!"

He didn't tell the campers of Max's death, nor his plan, though, so Max wasn't too upset with Neil. The only instance where David's toxic positivity came in handy, it would seem.

Max was trying to get some sleep, on his second say without being able to get any amount of hydration, but it wouldn't come, probably because his body felt like the Quartermaster was scratching his hook around in every orifice. A couple hours of glaring at the ceiling later, Neil slipped into his room.

"Sup, shitface," Max said, then cursed his voice for sounding so faint. WHY did DYING have to make you sound like such a pussy? Rancid deal, if you asked him.

Neil squeaked, which Max was grateful for, because at least someone else sounded like more of a pussy. "H-hey Max-"

"The fuck are you doing on here? If you came in here for a pinic, I'm gunna have to remind you I can't fuckin eat. Unless you want whatever sweets I stomach to end up on your face in the form of vomit a few minutes later."

Neil bit his lip, "U-uh, erm-"

"God, you're annoying," Max sighed, then coughed, "Fuck! Just spit it out already."

Neil took a deep breath, "I was actually wondering if you wanted to blow this place-"

"Have you even been paying attention?" Max snapped, "I'm supposed to leave tomorrow night. Still got a whole ass day to take a bunch of bastard doctor's drug cocktails in hopes they work."

"They're not gunna find anything that works."

"Why," he drawled, "aren't you just the exact fuckin opposite of David? Since when did you become such a
Negative-Neil? Not that I'm complaining, of course, I completely understand and sympathize with your diagnosis, Dr. Yiff."

"I'm negative because the science says to be," Neil snapped, "You're as good as dead. So let's blow this yucky hospital and do something cool."

"Awww, Neilie," Max rolled his eyes, "are you asking me out on a date?"

"Yes."

That was not what Max anticipated.

Max threw off the covers , carefully removing the tubes and wires coming put of his arms, and got up.

"Well, what a pleasant surprise," Max said, "Hope you enjoy kissing a dead man, bastard bitch."

a/n
special thanks to -SimplyKenn for giving me the motivation to continue this story bc tbh i was just gunna leave it LMAO
word count 641