Words You Wouldn't Say

Maxwell managed to get to his apartment without incident. He had the creeping feeling of being watched, but he shrugged it off as paranoia from drinking. He walked up to the building, reached for the door, and pulled like it was going to open. He reeled back when it didn't.

A note on the inside of the door told him that due to a recent murder, the building and most of the ones around it were adopting a curfew. The doors locked at ten p.m., and opened at six a.m.

Max groaned and tilted his head against the door. Of course it would happen on the day he didn't go straight home after work. He heaved a sigh and turned around to find a car in front of him, and Mike standing against it.

"Are you the murderer?" Max asked. Mike's face scrunched in surprise at the question, and he shook his head quickly.

"I was worried," Mike said calmly. "I wanted to make sure you got home safe." Max's expression soured, and he gestured around.

"Here I am, home safe." Mike raised his eyebrow at him.

"You're not even in the building." He caught sight of the note on the door, and Max tried to hide it from view, but Mike gently moved him aside to read it. He then glanced at Maxwell and started steering him toward the car.

"Hey!" Maxwell protested. Mike opened the door for him, but Max stared at him in defiance.

Mike sighed. "Get in, Max." Maxwell crossed his arms. "I'm not going to leave you here with a murderer on the loose. You can sleep in my spare room until the building opens again." Maxwell stared at him stubbornly, and Mike pursed his lips, debating how to get Maxwell to go willingly. After a few seconds, he said, "I'll make you your favorite dish."

Max couldn't help the way his mouth watered as he remembered Mike's Asian cooking, and he glared at Mike as he got into the car. Mike gave him a small smile, as if gloating that he still knew him well enough to know that the way to get Maxwell to do things was through food. He moved to the other side, climbing in and doing a three-point turn to head back toward his house.

Max noticed the way Mike was fidgeting, like he wanted to reach over and grab Maxwell's hand, like it was normal. Max tucked his hands under his arms, looking out of the window. He thought idly about the murder that, until a few minutes ago, he wasn't sure had even happened.

Maybe he should check the news every once in a while.

He wondered who it was, about their lives. He sucked his lip in between his teeth and worried it.

"Stop thinking about it," Mike said quietly. Maxwell looked at him. "There's nothing you can do about it." Of course Mike would know he was thinking about the murder. He pulled into the garage of his home and Maxwell stepped out quietly, following Mike into his home and to a spare bedroom. It looked cozy, and looked like it'd just been used that morning.

"I'll get you something to sleep in," Mike said as Maxwell stepped into the room. He noticed that the door to the closet was open and he stepped over to it. His curiosity won over his manners, and he opened it to find women's clothing hanging neatly inside. His eyebrows raised and he closed the door quickly, moving over to the bed. He felt like he'd just walked in on something he shouldn't have.

Mike appeared again with a sweater and some pajama pants in his hands, handing them to Max quickly. Max offered him a short thanks and took the clothes. He placed them on the bed and shrugged out of his shirt, pulling on the sweater. It drowned him.

He pulled the sleeves up and glanced back at the door. "You're not helping me believe you're not the murder," he said. Mike's eyes flicked up to his, a small smile on his lips.

"Sorry," he said. "I swear I'm not the murderer." Maxwell's gaze flicked to the closet.

"Where's the bathroom?" he asked. Mike led him there and gave him an extra toothbrush that he took gratefully. Mike disappeared down the hall toward the kitchen while Maxwell brushed his teeth. He went to pull on the pajama pants and after he'd finished he followed. Mike was making hot chocolate, and he gave a cup to Max, who thanked him quietly, warming his hands around the mug.

"So the band must've been a success," he said casually. Mike chuckled and nodded. Max studied him as he bustled about the kitchen, procuring the ingredients for one of Maxwell's favorite food dishes. A few times, Mike looked up to find Max staring at him, but Max didn't look away like he normally would. "Where's your wife?" he said quietly.

Mike didn't miss a beat. "She took Otis to her mother's," he said, reaffirming what he'd said earlier.

"Why?" Mike looked up at him, eyebrows scrunching together. "I noticed the clothes in the closet," Max said. "And the room's been in use." Mike turned to the food.

"Anna has been upset," he said after a while. "She says that I don't care about her or Otis, that I only care about the band and the charities." His fingers tapped against the counter. "We've been fighting for a while. She wanted to put Otis first, so she moved into the spare room. I think last night was the last straw for her."

"What happened?" Mike smiled ruefully.

"Would you believe that it was talking about you that set her off?" Maxwell blinked. "I think Chester was doing it on purpose. He has a knack for knowing when something's bothering you." He leaned against the counter while the food cooked. "Anna doesn't like to hear about things I've done in the past." He glanced at Max. "With men." Max nodded in understanding. "Chester knows, but he was very deliberate in his choice of conversation last night."

Max sipped at his hot chocolate. He could only imagine the kinds of things Chester would bring up when he was trying to piss someone off with knowledge of Mike's sexual exploits, and each and every single one of those images made his face flame.

Mike dutifully chose to ignore that. "She played along with Talinda and the kids all there, but she was very angry when we got home. She packed up and left." Max noticed the way Mike rubbed at his shoulder and hummed softly. Mike turned to the food, stirring the pot a few times.

"Why does it matter to her? You're married to her now." Mike gave him a slow look.

"Our marriage is very much for appearances," he said quietly. "She got pregnant, and our parents rushed us into a marriage. Then she had a miscarriage." Max winced and looked away. The expression on Mike's face tore at his insides. "It was after we married she learned about my college years." He gave a bark of laughter. "Chester has always known how to push her buttons."

Maxwell pursed his lips. "Got a little desperate after I left, didn't you?" Mike looked up at him and Maxwell grinned. Mike laughed then, and shook his head.

"I guess I did." He started plating the food and handed Maxwell the first plate and a fork. Maxwell started eating eagerly. Mike was much slower, picking at his food slowly. "What about you, Max? Who've you been filling your time with?"

Max looked up at Mike, his gaze calculating, but the other picked innocently at his food. After a while, he said, "Not anyone worth marrying." He smiled smugly as Mike looked up and went back to eating. After a while, he said, "I've been more concerned with working and going to school."

"You've been going a long time," Mike said quietly. Max shrugged.

"There's not a lot of time to take all the classes I need to and work at the same time. But I'll be done soon." He finished and moved to the sink, turning on the water to wash the dishes. Mike handed him his after a second and took the cleaned plates, placing them on the rack. After Maxwell had finished, he started back to the guest room, the one where Mike's wife slept.

The idea creeped him out a little, but he laid down and closed his eyes. He heard Mike say goodnight as he passed by, and called it back, curling up with a pillow.

He missed his room and his Netflix.

He woke to yelling. Close yelling.

He jerked up to find his door open. He could see Mike's shadow against the wall outside the room. He stood slowly and moved to the doorway, seeing Mike with a woman who he guessed was Anna.

"Gone one day and you've already brought someone home - " she was screaming.

"He was locked out of his apartments because there's a murderer out there, Anna, you want me to leave him to get murdered!?"

"Yes!" she screamed. Maxwell blinked and she caught sight of him, her face flushing. Mike turned and saw him and bit his lip before shooing him back into the room.

"Get dressed," he said quietly. "I'll take you back to your apartment." Max nodded and Michael closed the door, taking Anna's embarrassed silence as a chance to yell back. Max heard him say his son's name and he bit his lip, shedding Mike's clothes and pulling on his own.

He gathered the clothes in his arms and stepped out of the room slowly. Mike grabbed his shoulders and led him out of the house quickly, gesturing for him to get into the car. Max did as he was told, climbing in, then realized he still had the clothes in his hands.

"Keep them," Mike said. "Knowing Anna, she'll set them on fire as soon as she gets her hands on them." Max's eyebrows shot up as he put on his seat belt and Mike started driving.

"I think you may have chosen the wrong woman to impregnate." Mike laughed at that.

"I should've learned my lesson, but I thought everything would blow over," he said. "Besides, how shitty would it be to divorce someone after they miscarried?" Max nodded at that and gave a small, "Right." Mike's grip on the wheel loosened as they got farther away from his house.

"Have you thought about leaving now?" Mike's face softened.

"I want to try and make it work, for Otis' sake." His fingers tapped against the wheel. "But I'm beginning to think she's given up." He glanced at Maxwell. "She recognized you, from pictures."

Max smiled weakly. "I'm sure your ex-lover showing up in her home isn't making her feel any better."

Mike shrugged. "At this point, it doesn't really matter. When she sets her mind to something, it gets done. If she wants to make it work, it'll work."

"You're not going to try to make it work if she doesn't want to?" Mike looked at Maxwell slowly.

"Who says I really want it to work?"

Max's face flamed.

They pulled up to Maxwell's apartment and he climbed out, but to his surprise, Mike stopped the car and followed. "Mind if I stay for a while?" he asked. "She'll want her space, and none of the others are awake at this time of day." Max paused, then nodded, leading Mike into the building. He cursed when he saw the owner of the building in the lobby, talking quietly into the guard.

He wasn't a bad guy, he never tried to skim money from Maxwell, but he was very punctual about his payments. The minute he saw Maxwell he smiled and said, "Hey Max. Don't forget your payment is due next week." Max nodded, and the owner glanced at Mike, but didn't ask about him, even though Maxwell could tell he wanted to.

Maxwell took the stairs up to his apartment on the fourth floor and Mike trailed behind him, uncertain. They stepped into it and Max threw Mike's clothes onto his bed in the room before trying to clean up the mess he'd left the day before. Mike relaxed on the couch, flipping on the tv.

"There's no cable," Max said quickly. "It's just Netflix." Mike nodded, but said nothing, and Max went to brush his teeth and change into fresh clothes. After a while, he joined Mike on the couch, legs crossed under him. Silence hung over them, thick and nauseating, and Maxwell let his head rest against the arm of his couch, closing his eyes.