The Outsider

"...Why don't you go out tonight; go to a party or something with some college friends, Max? You do have some, I'm sure you could enjoy yourself for one night. You're not supposed to study every night, that's obscene. Like you said, only one of us should stress and tonight that's my turn-- you can go out and enjoy yourself," the alien grinned, doing his best to take the other's advice and calm down. It was hardly easy when he felt personally responsible for his daughter's apparent disability, but he was doing his best - and part of that meant relieving Max of his stress.

"I'll stay with Soleil, we'll chill out and I'll do some cleaning around the place. It'll be fine. You should do something that isn't studying your ass off, Max-- I worry about you."
 
"I... I don't know," he replied warily as he decided to head to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. "What if something happens while I'm gone? Not to be an asshole but you don't exactly know how to take care of Soleil if she's actually deaf. Plus, I... I need to work on my thesis paper a little more. I double checked it but third times the charm, right? Besides, I don't even know of any parties going on tonight. Plus I'd have to dresss up and... I dunno," He babbled our nervously as he took a good gulp from his drink.

On one hand, he didn't really want to go. On the other, it was true that he seemed to slip out of the eye of other students for all but his weird appearance and he wanted to set things straight, that he was a nice and approachable person. There was always the fear of Ricky as well, his cheeks growing pink at the pressure."
 
"...You do sound like an asshole. I know how to take care of her-- forget it. You're gonna go pick out a nice outfit, text about to see if there are any parties tonight, I'll do your hair nice and then you can get drunk and do normal college stuff, even if it's only for a night. We'll be alright. I'll watch some of those corny ass alien movies, it'll be funny," he continued, casting his daughter a final glance before moving to the bed, resting his hands behind him.

"You could borrow one of my new t-shirts, if you wanted? It'd be big on 'ya, but maybe that'll look cool or something? Stick a pair of jeans on, gel your hair back, and you'll fit right in. Or just wear your comfy sweaters. I prefer you like that, but... I dunno. I just want you to have one night where you enjoy yourself with your friends. If Ricky's there and bothering you, call me. I can punch him again, I'm sure he'd love that."
 
"Slick my hair back? Don't be ridiculous," he snorted in disbelief, his cheeks only growing redder by the second when he essentially wasn't given the choice of doing anything else. Taking another sip to consider it, he decided to offer a meek smile in agreement.

"Okay, yeah. I guess I'll go, but only because you're pressuring me," he replied before wandering to his bedroom to pull out his phone, quickly texting his friends. Granted, his friends were more like him in the sense of being the kind to stay inside so the likeliness Of getting anything from them was low. He could always ask Ricky if he needed to, knowing he could hook him up. "I think I'll just wear what I usually wear but it's too hot outside to wear a sweater. Ah... what does the shirt look like?"
 
"It's just a t-shirt-- pretty plain, a strip of colour around the neck and arms. It'll be cute on you," he encouraged, his own smile widening the moment he realised his advice had actually been taken seriously. Normally, he had to fight for Max to head on out ad abandon his college work, even for a night. Seeing him take the advice without that much of a fight behind it was miraculous.

"...Come back as late as you want. Hell, I don't care if you crash at a friend's place. Just have a good time."
 
"I probably won't. I'll probably be back by 11. You'll drop me off, right? I might be able to get a ride back but not there, yeah?" He decided, his smile growing just a tad more at Milo's encouragement.

Once dressed, he awkwardly walked out. Glancing at the mirror, he covered his face to hide his rosy cheeks. He wasn't one to dress so casually, especially after his parents raised him so formally. Glancing over at Milo, he shrugged.

"I look 12 but that's fine," he snorted before flopping on the couch, patiently waiting for someone to respond. "People won't even notice me, Milo. I mean, I'm pretty recognizable but still..."
 
"...It's definitely a different style for you? You look cool, you'll fit in with them. Like I said, I prefer you in your usual get-up, but this is cute too," he encouraged from the couch, fighting the urge to smile in case it was misconstrued. If Max did look ridiculous, he would happily tell him to avoid anyone else laughing at him at the party. If anything, he thought his boyfriend looked cute, and he assumed everyone else would think so too.

Unfortunately, he knew Ricky would be one of them.

"Don't talk to Ricky tonight, please? He hates my guts. I know you think he's hot or whatever, I'm fine with that, but I'm not okay with you being mates with him."
 
"I don't think he's hot, relax," he insisted. "The closest to 'mates' we are is we occasionally talk about notes in class. He'll probably be there, sure, and I'm not going to just shit on him but that doesn't mean I'm going to get all chummy, okay?" He reassured before moving to lean in for a kiss.

"I'll be good, probably won't even drink much. I'll get a little tipsy at most because I seriously do need to get back to my finals. I mean, if you want to have a fun summer without me stressing over getting in to my classes, you will. You've seen how I am at parties."
 
"You don't think he's hot? You can admit it if you do, I'm not some jealous, possessive boyfriend who thinks you should only find me attractive. You're human, your eye is gonna wander. I trust you not to jump into bed with him, or with any cute guy that smiles at you," smiled Milo playfully, giving the other a final glance up and down before nodding his approval.

"You look great-- you sure you don't want me to slick your hair back? It'd be cute. It's what I do when I did the party thing. Everyone loved me, Max. I know how to look good."
 
"Yeah, but I'm not you," he reminded, instead covering his eyepatch with his hair shyly. When he finally did get a response, his eye sparked a tad. Glancing over at the other, he nudged his boyfriend.

"So I did ask Ricky and he said he's having a party at his place. Can you bring me there? It isn't very far, you know that. I mean, it's a solid five minutes away. If I need you, you'll be close enough that it'll all be good!" He insisted before getting to his feet, stumbling just a tad.
 
"...Ricky's place? Of course it is, that guy's so fucking desperate for attention..." He mumbled beneath his breath, moving to take Soleil out from the crib. He didn't want to particularly uproot her from it when she was sleeping, but he also didn't want to force Max to walk, even if it was for five minutes. He wanted to show that he was a supportive boyfriend, and now Soleil had finally managed to alter her form to appear more human, he had no issue driving him there and walking him to the door.

"Does he actually spend anytime studying, or does he party all day in the hopes someone will get drunk enough to find him attractive?" He casually asked, all the while knowing his tone was dripping with venom. He didn't need to hide his hatred of Ricky, after all. The two punches he had given him spoke for themselves.
 
"You don't need to be a dick to him all the time. He hasn't... done anything terrible recently. I mean, he seems to have caught interest in this girl so maybe he'll leave me alone finally and we can just do our thing, you know?" He offered before grabbing a messenger to shove his things in.

"I have my charger pack in case my phone gets low, so that's cool. Promise to keep your phone on you so I can make sure you and the baby are okay? You know I can run pretty quickly if I need to, even while completely drunk - which I won't get to that point."
 
"He made fun of me, he insulted my daughter, and he's an overall asshole. But I'm not allowed to remind you of that? Whatever, Max," he grunted, shrugging on his jacket with a clear scowl. He didn't trust Ricky -that much was obvious- and he barely trusted Max at this point. When it sounded like his boyfriend was making excuses for him, then of course he wouldn't be too comfortable with them hanging out.

But Max did deserve a night off, even if it was at Ricky's place.

The only advantage of it being at his house was the short distance. If Max did need him, it wouldn't take too long to walk there, even less to drive. It only took five minutes for the latter, with Milo pulling up to the house and grimacing to himself at how nice it was. It didn't mean Ricky should be an ass about it, constantly boasting about his abode, but Milo wasn't too stubborn to admit that it was a decent place.

"...You'll be alright, won't you? Text me in an hour so I know you're doing okay," he murmured across to Maxwell, approaching the door with Soleil in his arms - he didn't want to expose her to anymore insults, but he was hardly going to leave her in the car alone, even for a few minutes. "...Don't get too drunk, you'll end up hurting yourself."
 
"I'll be fine," he reassured with his usual, shy smiles before glancing over st the door. Leaning up for a quick kiss, he hesitated before walking in, cringing just a tad at the booming music and the large group of people that already resides in.

He promised to text every hour and he followed through for the first few, though they suddenly stopped at around 11, the time he had promised he would be going home. Instead, Maxwell seemed to have disappeared, his phone going to voicemail instantly once 11 hit.

He wouldn't be seen again until 3 in the morning, seemingly propped up on the side of the doorway outside of their house completely unconscious. After the doorbell rang, the sound of frantic tires could be heard, leaving the young man to balance against the wall before he would collapse onto the ground.
 
  • Like
Reactions: potassiumboron
The hourly texts were a blessing to Milo who, despite being the one to suggest the party, had realised swiftly afterwards that he wasn't going to stop worrying about his boyfriend the whole time. Max was injury prone, awkward and the party was at Ricky's home - he had plenty of reasons to be concerned about him.

When the texts suddenly stopped, he had every intention to head to Ricky's home, fearing something had happened. The only thing that stopped him was the tension it would cause. If Max was perfectly fine and enjoying himself, then he wouldn't appreciate Milo turning up, angry and worried, and ruining the atmosphere, would he? Instead, he settled onto the couch with Soleil, doing his best not to watch the clock.

After feeding her and putting her to bed at around 3am, it was the only time he could get a nap, having spent every hour entertaining his daughter who did seem to grow by the day... though she still had the unfortunate habit of waking up in the early hours for a bottle. When she finally went to sleep was the moment the door and screech of tires sounded; the latter immediately concerned him, of course. Someone was clearly in a rush to get going, and if that wasn't concerning, he didn't know what was.

"Fuck-- fuck. Are you alright-- Max? Max, can you hear me? Are you okay?" He frantically questioned as he leaned to help the other up from the ground, glancing down the road in hopes of catching whoever had just dumped his boyfriend without waiting to see him get into the house safely first. "...Let's get you onto the couch, I'll make some hot chocolate-- god, you're not hurt, right? I... you stopped texting, I just thought you were having a good time."
 
Murmuring something coherent in response, the clearly roughed up teen leaned into Milo the minute he felt his grip. He could hardly understand where he was, the room was spinning way too fast and his body felt like a pile of rocks. He was clumsy as is but to be as fucked up on rohypnol as he was, he was barely able to lift any of his limbs.

Once on the couch, Milo was lucky to have been cohesive enough to find an empty popcorn bowl to promptly get sick into, his hands shaky as he tried to clutch into the bowl, the effort needed to set it back down on the coffee table without dropping it being a miracle.

"Fuck..." he managed to groan, his face beginning to streak with tears. "Where... I don't know... where I am..." he admitted, sniffling. Resting his head on the couch, he gasped deeply. "I feel like I'm dying."
 
"You're home, Max-- don't try to speak, alright? Or move. Just... lay down, put this around you to warm yourself up. I'll go and get some band-aids and a towel to clean you up," he murmured as he gently tucked a blanket around his boyfriend, his grimace only growing when he noticed the various cuts on his hands, which he assumed were from collapsing just outside the front door minutes ago. Never did he imagine Max would return in his sort of state, which he thought was from alcohol alone. He had no way of knowing what was mostly causing the disorientation.

"...I know I said not to talk, but you're scaring me. I... I'm fucking concerned. What happened?" He asked as he returned to sit by the couch, taking one of the other's hands to carefully wipe away the blood and cover the cuts with the plasters, as promised. "...We'll talk in the morning, you need to get some sleep. I can carry you to bed, or you can stay here, I... whatever's easiest, Max."
 
No response came at first, his hand limp as it was being attended to, all the while pressing into the blanket desperately. Squeezing his eye shut, he managed out a quick "I don't know" under his breath in response, showing no sign of wanting to move from the couch. In fact, a small part of him rebelled in being still, knowing that he would probably just get sick again if he did move.

Unsurprisingly, Maxwell fell unconscious again, the brief returns to consciousness having been too much effort. He wouldn't wake up until 1 in the afternoon the next day, blinking quickly at the sunlight that poured in.

Sitting up slowly, Max paused, unaware of how he had managed to get back to his house. His body hurt more than it had hurt in a long time, the idea of getting up and using his legs causing him dread. Smacking his dry lips, he peered around the room in hopes to at least spot Milo.
 
Not having had a wink of sleep all night, being far too worried about Max to even contemplate something as small as a ten minute nap, Max was exhausted and with that came the aching of muscles and pounding headache - but he knew it was nothing compared to what Max was going through. With him in mind, and the care of Soleil too, he forced himself to go on, spending much of that morning cleaning up and tending to his daughter. Only when she was asleep did he get started on lunch, deciding that Max needed to be woken up just to get some food in him.

"You're awake? Good, that's good-- I brought tomato soup and some orange juice. Even if you're not hungry, you need to eat some of it. I won't let you go back to sleep until you've had something," he demanded sternly, breaking that with a quiet smile as he approached with the tray, setting it carefully down on Max's lap.

"...Do you remember what happened? You showed up collapsed on the front doorstep, Max. At 3-fucking-AM. I... was terrified, but you were so disorientated that I couldn't question you about the party, y'know?" He frowned, settling into place in bed beside him. "...So did you just get really drunk, is that it? 'Cause I've seen you drunk and you don't get as bad as this."
 
Pressing his hands on his temples to try and soothe his own pounding migraine, he looked away quickly, the color from his cheeks draining. He did offer a meek smile at the sight of food despite only growing queasy at the thought of eating, the smell churning his stomach alone.

"I don't know what happened," he admitted quietly. "I don't know how I even ended up here. I... was drinking, obviously, and I was talking to Ricky. I guess I must have had too much because I blacked out pretty early and I just... don't remember what happened afterwards," he explained slowly, though stopped to look at Milo, his smile dropping to a frown instantly once locking eyes. "I'm... sorry. I guess I was just irresponsible? I... don't know. I didn't think I would be coming home so late - god, do we have any ibuprofen?"
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Top Bottom
Back