Words You Wouldn't Say

Max was relatively impressed with how far he'd gotten in college.

Sure, it'd taken a long time. He'd worked straight out of high school, then took a year off after his Bachelors to find a place to stay by himself that would be close to the college he wanted to go to and build up a savings and maybe pay off a bit of his loans, but all of it paid off. He was in his last year of college, months away from having his J.D.

Most of the kids in the classes he took (and he calls them kids, but really they're only three years younger than him and most in their mid twenties) had started straight off the bat, getting financial help and a place to stay from their parents, but Max had been on his own since he was old enough to be on his own. His parents were very vocal about their disapproval of his lifestyle, and once he turned eighteen they put him on the streets.

He'd accepted his fate and made his way on his own. There was no use in groveling (or pretending to be straight, honestly) so he'd found some roommates and carved his way through college.

But being a lawyer was hard.

He didn't regret his choice in career, but he was beginning to wish it didn't take so damn long (or costed as much). He wanted to get his bar exam out of the way as soon as possible so he could actually do lawyer things, like have clients and fight cases. He didn't expect to be a hit straight out of college, but he had no doubt he wouldn't be good.

As he stepped into class, he noticed the buzz that usually accompanied it wasn't as loud today. He glanced around and sat next to the only person who really talked to him, a young woman with a small mouth and dark brown hair. She quirked her lip at him and scooted over a little to make more room.

"Why's it so depressing in here today?" Max asked her quietly. The professor stepped into the room, and everyone took a seat. Max noticed a few empty chairs and his eyebrows meshed together.

The girl, whose name was Andrea, gently placed a note on his desk, careful of the no-talking-unless-spoken-to rule that the professor adopted in his class upon stepping into it. Max glanced at it and opened it carefully, and his eyes went wide.

All of the murder victims were in this class.

He looked up at her in shock and she nodded at the professor, who was speaking to the class. "I'm sure you've all heard by now of the murders that have been happening recently," he said. There was a quiet murmur as everyone hummed their responses. "It pains me to say that the victims were in this class. They were all bright and had great futures ahead of them, and I mourn each and every one of them, and give my condolences to their friends and family."

It was out of character for the professor to talk about anything outside of the class, but Max listened in silence. He didn't expect it to last, and he was right, because the professor said, "I understand that this is a very grave thing, and should not be taken lightly, but it presents a learning opportunity I fear I cannot pass up. Each of you knew one of the victims, if not all of them." He leaned against the desk. "So I want you to pick one of them and act as if you are representing their family against the murderer." A quiet rumble went through the class and the professor stood straight. "This is a team effort, so I expect no less and no more than four of you in a group."

He moved around to the other side of his desk. "Clearly this is a sensitive matter, so I strictly prohibit getting in contact with any of the victims friends or families. Because of this, I highly advise you to pick a victim you did not know well, if at all." He clasped his hands together. "This will be your writing assignment for this class. Everyone in your group will play their family, friends or lovers, then you will create your scenario and your victim's prosecution case."

"We're defending dead guys," Andrea muttered. Max gave her a look and she slid down in her seat, muttering an apology.

"Feel free to spend the rest of the class finding your groups, offering condolences, and figuring out how you're going to go about this. I'll be here until the normal time to answer any questions you may have."

People began talking as soon as he finished, and the two people sitting in front of Max and Andrea turned to them. "Mind if we join you?" asked the man. He had dirty blond hair and a lopsided grin that put Max off, but he just nodded, glancing at Andrea.

"Do lawyers even do this kind of thing?" she said in a quiet voice.

"Defend the families of dead people?" asked the other girl, who looked even younger than Andrea and had red hair that fell to her chin. She shrugged. "Sure, when the family presses charges, or stuff like that."

"We're the prosecutors in this scenario," Max reminded them. "We have to make it seem like the person who did this deserves a longer sentence. We're basically guilting the jury, guys."

The blond nodded. Before he could say anything, the professor interrupted. "It seems we've one person with no team," he said, mouth grim. "So whoever's team would be willing to take him will be allowed to have one more." Andrea's hand shot up, and the professor pointed at her. A man with wide shoulders moved up to them, chewing on his lip. Max shot a look at Andrea, who shrugged.

"He can help share the workload." Max rolled his eyes and welcomed the newcomer.

"I'm Maxwell," he said with a charming smile. "Miss Volunteer over here is Andrea."

"Ryan," the new guy said. The blond introduced himself as Jace, and the redhead said her name was Melody. "Thanks for letting me join," Ryan mumbled.

"No problem," Maxwell said cheerily. After a second, he said, "Do you guys know any of the victims personally?" Or even their names? Andrea, Jace and Melody shook their heads, but Ryan listed each of their names. His face flushed when everyone's eyes went to him.

"He has a paper up there," Ryan said, nodding toward the professor's desk. "It's got all their names on it."

"And you remembered them all?" Jace asked. Max glanced at him to find that he was looking at Ryan with distaste.

Ryan shrugged. "Dylan and Aryn sat next to me," he said. "I knew their names already."

"We're getting off topic," Max said. The others looked at him. "We'll do the prosecution for Dylan, any objections?" They all shook their heads and Max nodded. "Good. So each of us has to play a part - "

"Well all the victims were gay right?" Andrea asked. "So one of you boys is gonna have to be his boyfriend - "

Jace made a gagging sound and everyone looked at him. "I won't do it," he said quickly. "I'll be his brother, or something."

"Have a problem with gay men, Jace?" Ryan said coolly. Jace's face scrunched up.

"It's just... gross," he said, and maybe Maxwell had thought he was attractive before, but that was definitely not true anymore. "Unnatural."

"Whatever," Melody said. "You can play his dad." Her fingers snapped. "The disapproving father who only felt remorse after his son was dead!" Max made a face but kept quiet. "I look young, so I'll be his little sister. Andrea, you can be his childhood friend..."

"I'll play his boyfriend," Ryan volunteered. Everyone looked at him and he shrugged. "It doesn't bother me." Max breathed out of his nose, relieved. He didn't want to see Jace looking at him like he was looking at Ryan. He'd seen enough of that from his own father.

"Maxwell?" he heard Andrea ask. He glanced up at her. "Who do you wanna play?" Her choice of words made his stomach jolt, and he stood quickly.

"Excuse me," he said, before rushing out of the room. His hand covered his mouth, and although he felt like vomiting, he didn't. The fresh air on his face made him feel instantly better, and he placed his hands on his knees and took deep breaths before bracing his back against the wall.

"Getting to you, huh?" He jumped and looked up to see Ryan standing next to him. "Yeah, I feel the same way." Maxwell sucked in a breath and leaned his head back against the wall. "I should've noticed they were gone," Ryan said quietly. "Aryn disappeared a few weeks ago, and I didn't even think about it. Dylan was the one they found the night before last."

"Did you know the one they found last night?" Ryan shook his head. Maxwell sucked in a breath. "I just think it's nuts. These are kids we've known and they're dead and now we're pairing up to pretend we were parts of their lives."

"I can't say the professor's tactics are ethical," Ryan said quietly, "but they're effective." Maxwell glanced up at him, confused, and Ryan sighed. "No one in that class even looks at each other. That's not how law firms actually work." Maxwell rubbed his eyes. "Look, take your time. If you wanna take off, I'll tell the others you were feeling sick, and we'll figure out something for you, okay?" Max nodded slowly.

"I think I will," he said after a minute. "Thanks, Ryan." Ryan nodded and smiled, and brought Maxwell his bag before heading back inside. Max watched him until he disappeared behind the door, and then started for his apartment.

He remembered just before he passed the turn off street for his work that he had to pick up his check, so he rushed in to get in before heading to the bank, cashing the amount he needed for that week's rent. When he walked into the building's lobby, his landlord was there, shuffling through the day's paid rent. He smiled at Max when he walked up, but shook his head when Max tried to hand in his rent.

"That older fella already paid for it," his landlord said. "The one with the baby." Max's eyes went wide, and he frowned. "Gotta say, I didn't exactly peg you for the type. Whatever pays the bills, right?"

Max's face flushed and he stuffed his money back into his wallet, rushing up to his apartment on the fourth floor. He struggled with his keys and finally jammed the right one into the keyhole, bursting into his apartment feeling like his face was on fire.

Mike glanced up from the couch where he was feeding Otis.

"You. Paid. My. Rent." Max managed through gritted teeth. The door slammed closed behind him.

Mike looked back down at Otis, shrugging nonchalantly and saying, "Yeah."

"You paid my rent, Mike!" Max screamed. "What the fuck? You weren't even living here when you paid my rent! And I never said you could pay all of my rent anyway!"

Mike looked up at him, assessing him, and then said, "How much is the bank charging you for those loans?"

Max fell quiet.

"I'll tell you, because you're piss at hiding your mail," Mike said, looking back down to catch Otis drooling onto his bib. "You have to pay more than you could make in twenty years on your current salary. And as soon as you stop going to college, all of it is going to hit you like a ton of bricks. You'll be stuck in a dead end job because you can't pay it off, and after a while you're going to run out of money to keep a roof over your head and food in your mouth, and all those returned letters from your parents tell me they're not going to be any help."

Mike still hadn't looked up, feeding Otis as if Max wasn't standing at the door, angered that Mike had taken it upon himself to pay for Max's rent.

"You don't deserve that kind of bullshit."

"It's my life!" Max yelled. Mike's calm was making him angrier. "They're my bills!" He started pacing. "And now my landlord thinks you're my sugar daddy!" Mike laughed abruptly, and Max turned to him, ready to punch something.

Otis was done eating, so Mike set him gently on the floor and sat straight, finally looking straight at Max. "There's nothing you could do about me paying your bills, Max. They're paid for." Max glared at him. "And I'm going to keep paying for them. That's already been set up." Max almost screamed again.

"Why are you doing this?" He threw his bag aside and started pacing again. "Do you want me to feel in debt to you? Are you making me your slave!?"

"I'm taking care of you," Mike said gently. Max froze, glaring at him.

"Don't," he said. "Don't, don't even, you don't get to decide when to come in and take the reins. I've been steering this god damn train wreck by myself, I've had it figured out for eleven years, I don't need you to take care of me!"

Mike nodded. "You're right, you don't." Max's lips pursed tightly together, his gaze glaring daggers at the older man. "You don't need me to take care of you. You've been taking care of yourself for years, and I'm so proud of you." Max crossed his arms, hands tightening into fists, and Mike stood, edging closer to him slowly. "But you don't have to anymore." When Max didn't swing, Mike gently cupped his face, staring into his eyes. "You don't need to anymore."

Max closed his eyes and pulled away. "What do you want from me?" he whispered.

Mike pursed his lips. "Well, it'd be really nice if you helped me with Otis." Max couldn't help it, he laughed in surprise. He looked at Mike, then at Otis. "But I'm not asking for anything from you, Max. I just want you to let me take care of you."

Max leveled Mike with a glare. "You're not paying off my loans."

"Half?" Mike reasoned. Max groaned in frustration.