Words You Wouldn't Say

Maxwell's feeling a little paranoid.

He swears he heard someone laughing that sounded suspiciously like someone he really didn't care to see, but it wasn't possible because said person couldn't be here, right?

He ignored the bad feeling and walked into the coffee shop, foot tapping while he waited in line. He just wanted to get his coffee and go home and curl up in his blankets and browse OkCupid for a date tomorrow. Possibly a blow job? Maybe he should check Tinder instead.

The point was that everything was loud and he wanted to go home and pour alcohol into his coffee and browse Netflix all night. Why was this line so damn long? And why were those girls whispering and pointing at him?

No, he mused, stepping forward as someone stepped out of line. Not at him, but behind him.

He glanced back and did a double take, glad he didn't have his coffee yet because he would've spilled it. Maybe he could edge out of line and just go home...

It was too late. He'd been seen. The kid looked at him, smiled and waved, and of course he wasn't going to be rude, so he waved back, and this caught the attention of the father, and, well, shit.

The pause was dramatic as the other man realized that he knew who was standing in front of him. His eyes went wide, and then his smile did, and then he was edging into Maxwell's space like he knew Max wanted to escape.

"Max!" he said. "Is that really you?" Maxwell couldn't help the grimace and he nodded, pulling on a small smile.

"Yeah, it's me," he said thickly. "How are you Chester?"

"I'm great, man," he said. "I haven't seen you in forever, how are you? What have you been up to?"

"Schooling, mainly," Maxwell said. He smiled at Chester's son, who smiled back. "If it's not one thing, it's another. How's the band?"

"They're great," Chester said quickly. "I'm actually going to see them in a bit, we're gonna play poker while the kids play." His face got thoughtful for a second, and Maxwell bit back a groan. "You should come, actually! It's been so long, we were actually just talking about you the other day..."

Max's heart skipped a beat and he glanced at the line. "I don't know, I wouldn't wanna intrude..."

"It's no problem!" Chester said. "I'm getting drinks and then heading over, you should come with me." The look on his face was the look of a man who wouldn't give up. Max sighed and nodded slowly. Chester grinned and clapped his hand on his kids' shoulders. "This is Isaiah and Tyler, my sons. Boys, this is Maxwell. He's an old friend of mine." Isaiah smiled shyly and Maxwell smiled back. He was good with kids, so he could just spend the whole time doting on them and be fine, right? Right.

He ordered his drink and waited for Chester, whose order must have been for everyone and not just himself. Maxwell helped him carry it as they walked out and down the street, heading toward the nicer houses on that side of town.

They passed Maxwell's flat and he glanced at it longingly. No alcohol in his coffee and no Netflix for the night. Instead, he gets to revisit old memories. Yay.

Chester led him along the sidewalk, down into the housing tracks where the backyards had as much square footage as the houses themselves. After a few minutes, they turned up a driveway and started toward the door. "This is Mike's place," Chester told him. "He's got a built in recording studio which is where we usually record our music." Max nodded, barely paying attention. He bit his lip and smiled at Tyler, who smiled and ran the rest of the way to the door, ringing the doorbell three times before it opened and another kid smiled back at him.

"That's Phoenix's daughter," Chester told them, as they followed the kids into the house. The kids ran to the backyard and that was definitely a personal playground in the back. Max followed Chester through the house, then stopped when they came into a room with a poker table, where a bunch of people were now crowding around Chester, clamoring for their drinks. "Look who I found!" Chester said as Max stepped into the room.

The sounds stopped and Chester took the drinks from Max to start handing them out. He recognized their faces, each and every one of them, and realized that the face he'd been dreading to see wasn't with them. Chester darted around the crowd, disappearing out of sight.

The group of men parted, and Maxwell saw him. His hand was covering his mouth, studying him with wide eyes and a slight frown. Everyone was silent, and Max felt like his heart was going to pop out of his chest.

A hand was clapped against his shoulder and he was led to the table where the other man sat, cards sitting in front of him, waiting. His fingers tapped against the table, but the other men were talking and laughing like they couldn't notice the awful tension creeping up between Maxwell and the man sitting at the head of the table.

He dealt the cards and handed Maxwell his personally, making sure to brush their fingers together, eyes studying Maxwell's reaction. He turned his attention instead to the man to his right, who was laughing obnoxiously and bringing up a memory long since faded to a white line in the back of Maxwell's head.

Maybe coming here was a bad idea.

He should've been more adamant, should have put his foot down. He should have said no, but even now the look on Chester's face told him that had never been an option since the moment Chester had seen him. Chester had wanted him here, and whatever Chester wanted, he got.

The chatter started up again, and Rob grinned at him, striking up a small conversation as the others started talking loudly. The man dealing, Mike, joined into conversations here and there, but he was otherwise quiet.

Max withdrew from the hand early, sensing he would lose, and sat back to watch. Joe started talking to him next, asking him what he was doing with his life, and Brad interjected to ask what he went to school for, and then Phoenix was distracting everyone when his daughter ran into the room, crying with a scraped knee. The game paused, and Max finished his coffee, asking quietly where the trash can was. Rob stood to lead him there, but Mike put a hand on his shoulder, saying he'd do it.

Max gathered up everyone's trash and followed Mike toward the kitchen, where the trashcan was. His stomach felt hollow and he wanted to throw up, but he kept a straight face as Mike helped him pile the trash into the can.

"Hey," Mike said quietly. Max wanted to turn tail and run. "How are you, really?" Max smiled what he hoped was a convincing smile.

"I'm great," he said quickly. "I've almost finished my J.D. and soon I'll actually be working. For money." Mike raised his eyebrows and Maxwell said quickly, "Not that I don't have money."

"How are your parents?" Mike asked then. Maxwell fell silent and looked away, face flaming slightly. There was no doubt in his mind that Mike had asked to prove a point. Max heard Joe calling from the other room, glanced at Mike briefly and hurried back, swallowing. He sat in his seat and smiled weakly at Rob, who studied him as Mike walked back into the room and picked up his cards.

A few rounds were played. Max was beginning to think the others were taking pity on him, because he started winning. He won about fifty bucks before Chester broke out the beers, and he stopped playing. He only swigged at the beer occasionally, knowing that he lost most of his judgement when he drank, and here was not a good place to do that.

He watched each of them as they played, studying them and their habits and realizing that most of them hadn't changed. Phoenix doted on his girls whenever they came in, and Chester roughed his up a little bit. His eyes flit to Mike, who was playing with his chips and looking at his card. Max noticed, for the first time, a wedding band fit onto his finger, and he looked away again, lips pursing.

Phoenix's daughter came in, yawning, and everyone decided it was time to head home. Rob and Joe left, while Phoenix and Brad herded their children into their cars. Chester called his wife and sat back to wait, promising that he'd give Maxwell a ride back to his apartment.

"Where's Anna?" Chester asked then. Mike glanced over from where he was cleaning up the poker table.

"She took Otis to her mother's," Mike said in response, gaze flashing up to Maxwell's. Max looked away quickly, while Chester continued to talk to Mike about his family, tapping away at his phone. Max ran a hand through his hair absently, then leaned back, sighing softly. Mike offered them whiskey while they waited, and Max took it, grateful. Chester's sons fell asleep on the couch.

It was as Mike was handing him the glass of whiskey that Maxwell realized he'd mentioned Otis. Probably wasn't a dog, which meant it was more than likely a child. Mike had a child. Chester brought Maxwell here to see a man with a child.

He sent a glare to Chester, but Chester gave him an innocent face and glanced out the window, before cursing. "She brought the smaller car," he said. "I can't give you a ride back, Max." He stood, moving over to his kids, and Max really wanted to slam his head against the poker table. He managed to restrain himself. "I'm really sorry. I'll make it up to you, yeah?" Max just stared at Chester, who smiled at him, a shit-eating grin that said Chester had definitely meant for this to happen. "Mike can take you home."

Mike looked up, startled, and Max shook his head.

"No, it's fine, I can walk," Max said quickly. He stood, ignoring the way his stomach felt queasy, and started for the door. "It's not that far, anyway."

Mike was there in an instant, hand on the door.

"We're staying here," he said decisively. Chester's eyebrow inched up. "We've both had a bit to drink and we don't have to go anywhere right away. Better safe than sorry." Max felt his face heating.

"I'll be fine," he protested. "I'm just going to walk home, it's not like I'm driving, or anything."

Mike was not to be swayed. He opened the door for Chester, then closed it behind him, giving Max a silent stare that would normally have made him cower a little.

But he'd had alcohol, several beers and a glass of whiskey, and he was feeling brave. "You can't keep me here against my will," he said matter-of-factly. Mike snorted.

"I could always call security and tell them there's a drunk man walking around outside flashing his dick at houses." Max's face darkened.

"You wouldn't."

"Just wait a few hours, alright?" Mike turned him around and pushed him toward the living room. "You're not going to die spending a few hours on my couch, and I don't trust people not to mob you as you leave my house." Max swallowed and moved toward the couch, memories he'd rather not remember trying to edge their way into his consciousness.

He sat with a surly look, resigned. He knew that Mike was right, that he should just sit and wait it out and then Mike could give him a ride home (especially since he was fairly sure someone got murdered in his back alley the other night), but he didn't want to give Mike the satisfaction of knowing that.

He crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head back.

The television turned on, a faint noise in the background, but he could tell Mike wasn't paying attention.

"How in debt are you?" he asked quietly. Max stiffened. "School's not cheap, Max." Max swallowed and looked away.

"Once I start working it won't be a problem," Max said. After a few seconds, he said, "So you're married." Silence, and then a soft, "Yeah," from Mike's general vicinity. "With a son." Another quiet affirmation. Max let it hang there, closing his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Mike said. Max started, surprised. "I ignored you and I forced you away." Maxwell turned his head slowly, eyes finding Mike's. He was staring at Max, eyes widened slightly. "I didn't even have an excuse. I was afraid."

Max stood then, starting for the door. Mike let him. He paused at the door, hand on the knob, and said quietly, "It's way too late for an apology, Mike." With that, he left.