Words You Wouldn't Say

Max groaned, and the pain hit him like a ton of bricks. He could feel the dried blood on his back, could feel the cuts on his chest. He'd known that the victims had been killed, but he didn't know they'd been tortured first.

His eyes fluttered and he tried to stay awake, but the pain was too much. He was out like a light.

--

Max was thirteen when he met Mike.

His two closest friends had moved away during the summer before high school, leaving him to brave the halls alone. His baby face had made him an easy target, and since he was alone, no one could come to his defense.

He was two months in when someone did.

He was being pushed around by some junior, who kept telling him to go back to elementary school. He'd made a snide comment about how he might look like he belonged there, but the junior was the one who needed the basic education, and a fist was flying toward his face when the junior was pulled off balance and away from Max.

"Leave him alone," someone had said. Max looked up to see three seniors standing in front of them, one with his hand on the backpack of the junior who was still off balance.

"It's not nice to pick on freshman," one of them said. His hands were in his pockets and his black hair was cut short. The junior glared at him, but the senior gave him a bored look. "You were there once."

"Why are you projecting?" one of the other boys said. "Couldn't get laid the three years you've been in high school?" The junior glared at him, and the one holding his backpack pulled him again.

"Stop!" the junior yelled. The one with his hands in his pockets nodded, and the one holding the junior's backpack shoved him away.

"Bullies are just babies whose mothers give them too much attention," the one with his hands in his pockets said. "Get out of here, Oedipus."

The junior walked away quickly, mumbling under his breath. Everyone who had been watching turned away, hoping they wouldn't get noticed.

The senior with his hands in his pockets glanced at Max and smiled. "Let us know if he bothers you again." Max nodded and bit his lip, and the other guy ruffled Max's hair. Max jerked away, fixing his hair.

"He's adorable, Mike," he said, glancing at the senior with his hands in his pockets. "Let's keep him." Mike rolled his eyes.

"You want to keep everyone." The one who spoke first laughed. Mike studied Maxwell for a second, then glanced at the other boy, who shrugged. "Yeah, okay," he said after a while. "Look, I'm Mike." He nodded toward the one who'd messed with Max's hair. "That's Brad, and over here's Rob." Rob nodded at him. "Rob's a junior, so he can keep you safe after we hit the road," Mike said with a wink.

Max smiled slightly and mumbled a thanks. The three boys led him down the hallway.

++

A door slammed closed above him. Max's head rolled side to side and he opened his eyes, but they didn't go all the way. Something was sliding down past the corner of his right eye, and he shifted his head toward the right so it wouldn't drip in.

Footsteps sounded and he tried to move, tried to inch away, but it felt like his back was tearing. The smell of fresh blood met his nose.

--

Max was a junior when Mike met Chester.

Mike's brother had joined him in high school the year before, and Max spent most of his time with him and Rob. He felt like he owed it to Mike to make sure no one messed with his brother now that Mike was gone. Max was slight and not very imposing, but he'd lost his baby face and joined the baseball team. Everyone knew better than to mess with him, and by extension, Jason.

A label had taken interest in Mike's band. It had been Xero when they met, but now they were going by Hybrid Theory. Mike had met Joe at college, and Brad had roomed with Phoenix. All they needed was a vocalist.

Mike had tried pestering Max to go for it, but Max had said no. His parents were very set on him being a doctor or a lawyer, and Max actually liked the idea of being a lawyer. Mike eventually gave up with an affectionate ruffle of Max's hair and never tried again.

Max had been there the day Chester had walked in. He was a second opinion, an unbiased source. Chester had walked in first, eyes sunk and hair bleached and spiked and a lip piercing that made Max rub his own lip in sympathy.

No one needed a second opinion when they decided that Chester was the vocalist they'd been looking for.

He'd grinned and thanked them repeatedly and asked what Max did, and Max shrugged and said, "I'm the roadie, I guess."

Chester never stopped talking about how he thought Max and Mike were a couple. He made efforts to get them left alone together. When Max turned seventeen, Chester threw a party at his apartment. He'd gotten Max too drunk to go home - and he'd known what he was doing, knew that Max's parents would kill him if they'd known, honestly - and sent Max on his merry way to Mike's dorm room.

He was very smug the next day when he picked up Max with his kiss-bitten lips and his very mussed up hair.

Days before Max was meant to graduate, his sister, only fourteen and naive, had told their parents about the man she'd seen Max kissing while she was walking home. A few days later, Mike left on tour, and he never heard another word from him.

++

Max felt the hand on his neck before he heard his name. His eyes fluttered open but he couldn't get them open all the way. The right one was crusted with blood.

His arms were free, but he didn't have enough energy to move them. He heard yelling, something about nine-one-one.

"I'm sorry," he heard. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I should've gone with you, I should've been there."

Max licked his lips and mumbled for Mike to stop blaming himself. Mike laughed weakly and squeezed his neck when Max's eyes started closing.

"Don't fall asleep, Max," he said gently, shifting to keep Max sitting upright. "C'mon, stay with me, alright?" Max's head was against his chest, and he tilted it back slightly to look up at Mike.

"You don't look very flattering at this angle," he murmured. "Tell me why I'm in love with you, again?" Mike laughed, holding him tight.

"Knew you were still in love with me," he said. "You're an awful liar, Maxwell." Max smiled weakly. He was too tired, too tired. His eyes hurt.

"The jig is up," he said. "Never could lie to you anyway."

"Stay awake," Mike told him. "Help's on the way, c'mon, stay awake." He shouted for someone to help him carry Max upstairs. "You should see it, Chester's got that asshole pinned down."

"Tell my professor I'm sorry," Max mumbled. "I don't think I'm gonna be able to finish my project."

"Max!" Mike yelled. "Don't you dare fall asleep on me." Max gave a shuddery sigh. "C'mon, Otis and I need you."

"Otis," Max mumbled sadly.

"He cried when you didn't come home," Mike told him. "He asked for you by name." Max swallowed, throat feeling dry.

"'m sorry," he whispered. "Should've been more careful." He could hear sirens. Logically, they should've been getting louder, but the longer it went on the farther they sounded. Mike's shouts sounded muffled. He gripped at Mike's shirt, mumbled out something like, "I love you," that probably sounded more like, "One of you," and passed out.

*

Mike was sitting in the hospital chair when Max's sister walked in.

She was taller than Mike remembered, but shorter than Max was. She had the same black hair as Max, the same nose and smile, and the same crease in her eyebrow as she looked at her brother and fought back tears.

Rob spoke first.

"Hey, Amalia," he said gently. She jumped and looked at him, then to Mike, who rubbed his lip slightly and turned back to Max.

"What happened?" she demanded.

"He got kidnapped," Rob explained carefully. He was clearly searching for the right words. "There's been a serial killer, attacking men at Max's school."

"What for?" she asked. Rob cleared his throat, but Mike spoke instead.

"For being gay."

She looked at him, but Mike didn't look up. Rob kept going. "Mike had given Max a cell phone with GPS on it, for emergencies. The killer hadn't known Max had the cell phone." Just in time, Mike thought idly. He shuddered to think of where they would've found Max if Mike hadn't given him the cell phone that day.

"The killer?" Amalia asked.

"Jailed," Rob said. "Chester and I nearly went with him." Mike caught Rob rubbing his hands. His knuckles had already scabbed over.

After a few seconds, Amalia whispered, "Thank you." Mike let his hand fall to his lap and stood, glancing at Rob, who nodded.

"I'm gonna grab some coffee," he muttered, before stepping out. The soft footsteps behind him told him that Amalia had followed. They were both quiet as she followed him down to the cafeteria, and he stayed silent as he grabbed his coffee and sat and waited.

She sat across from him and said, "Will he wake up?" Mike shrugged listlessly. Her lips pursed. "What did the doctors say?"

"What do you care?" he interrupted. "You haven't even kept in contact with him since your parents kicked him on his ass." She sputtered at him and he glared at her, causing her to fall quiet. "What's the point of caring if you only do it when he's dying?"

Her face twisted. "I didn't mean to get him kicked out," she whispered. She looked like she was going to cry again. "My parents wouldn't let me stay in contact with him. I couldn't find him after that." Mike felt a little guilty when she started to cry, but he didn't reach out to comfort her. She was just as guilty as he was for what happened to Max after he left.

"You knew they wouldn't approve," he said simply. He looked away, warming his fingers on his coffee. She didn't defend herself.

"Who was it?" she asked after a few minutes. Mike still hadn't touched his coffee.

"It was a guy in his class," Mike said quietly. "They were doing a project together. He killed the other guy in their group. The guy had asked Max on a date, and put an alarm in his phone with Max's name in it." There was silence for a few moments. "He said he was gonna make Max his last target. That no one would miss him anyway." His voice broke and he coughed into his elbow.

More time passed, and finally Amalia broke the silence. "When was the last time you ate? Slept?" Mike blinked and stared at her, confused. "Max isn't going to feel any better if he wakes up and finds you looking like you spent the night in a blender." She stood. "I'll get you something to eat. And no coffee," she said, plucking the untouched coffee from his hands.

"It was cold anyway," he mumbled as she threw it away and stepped into the line for food.

He glanced at his phone and sat back, sighing softly. There were only a few more hours until he had to be at the venue for the charity concert he no longer wanted to go to. How could he even begin to focus on that when Max was here? What if Max woke up, and Mike wasn't there?

He grudgingly ate the food Amalia placed in front of him.