"...Someone dropped you off, they didn't wait to see if you were alright. Couldn't get away fast enough. I bet that it was Ricky-- that fucking asshole would be that selfish to leave you to struggle in on your own," he grunted, hs mood souring almost instantly at the mere mention of the other's name. Once he had it in his head that Ricky was somehow at fault for it all, he knew he had to talk to him, preferably face-to-face. If he was angry at the simple mention of his name, he didn't entirely know how angry he would be when he saw him.

"Look, don't worry about it. You went out, had fun and came back a bit too drunk-- it happens, right?" He smiled as he pressed two tablets into his hand, blissfully unaware that this was far more than some drunken night out. "Forget about college today, I texted one of your friends to pass on the message that you wouldn't be there. You need bedrest. I'll pop out later, pick up some groceries-- but you stay in bed and rest up, okay?"
 
Taking a cautious sip of the soup, he was silently relieved when he didn’t immediately throw it up. He was still incredibly dizzy and his muscles still seemed to shake a tad but he was more aware of his surroundings, clearly enough to hold a cohesive conversation.

He wasn’t going to deny the help, nor was he going to deny the obvious impending doom of Ricky. He couldn’t really explain what happened but he did distinctly remember Ricky leading him through the party. Staring down at the window, he sipped the soup again.

“God, I... need to submit my paper,” he realized. “I double-checked it, right? It’ll be fine?” He confirmed, his anxiety beginning to build. “This was a bad idea, I... am so sorry for stressing you out. Can you pass me my laptop? I don’t think my professor would accept me sending it late because I got drunk.”
 
"As long as you stay in bed and drink plenty of non-alcoholic fluids, I don't care what you do," he replied, leaning over to fetch the laptop for him. In an ideal world, Max wouldn't be so stressed about work and would lay in bed watching TV, or doing something that wasn't college-related, but Milo was in no mood to start an argument over it. Likewise, Max didn't need it - it was why he had given up telling him not to apologise. It would just cause an argument that was completely unnecessary.

"How about I head out now? Soleil's sleeping, she'll be out like a light for a few hours. I'd take her out with me to save you worrying, but I don't think it's wise to do that yet, not for longer than a few minutes-- I'll be back before she wakes up anyway," he promised, easing himself from the bed. He had no real intention to collect groceries, his immediate decision being to head to Ricky's and get to the bottom of what had happened last night. Again, not to stress Max out, he wasn't going to mention it. "I won't be long, alright? Don't get out of bed-- I'll be mad if I come back and you're up and about."
 
“You can push her crib in here if you want?” He suggested. While he felt terrible, he was stupid enough to care more about a baby he didn’t want to begin with than himself. “I don’t feel too good so I’ll probably sleep but... I can wake up if I hear her crying, yeah?” He insisted with an apologetic smile.

Taking another gingerly sip, he set the bowl of soup onto the tray as carefully as he could before taking an even smaller sip of orange juice, just enough to help get his fluids back. Exhaling quietly, he began to reluctantly type on the laptop, going at 1/3rd the speed he typically typed at.
 
"She's just in the next room, you don't need to worry about seeing her-- she'll just distract you if she does wake up and I don't want you to blame her if you make mistakes on your paper, you know? Just... focus on your work, that's what's important to you, I get that-- I understand that, it's all cool," he promised, grabbing his jacket and backpack - he needed to make it seem like he was just going out for a few items, after all, so taking the bag with him helped with the lie.

Though he also knew that if he did end up hurting Ricky again, word would spread and his lie would be exposed - though by then, he knew he wouldn't particularly care.
 
Motioning the other over, he offered a quick kiss to help with his growing guilt. Laying back in the bed, he adjusted the laptop properly. He wasn’t going to spend much time or effort on it and, in fact, really only intended to send the paper in all it’s unchecked glory.

“Just be back soon, I don’t feel comfortable being alone,” he admitted, his eyes scanning Milo’s face. “”... pick up a frozen pizza, yeah? We can have it for later. I don’t... think I should handle any real food prep right now, aha...”
 
Why Max felt guilty was bewildering to Milo, though it was nothing new. He had lived with the other since they were just children; he had had plenty of apologies from him when they were completely unwarranted, and plenty of arguments had ensued as a result. This time, he took the guilt and apology with a faint smile, too tired and too considerate to push the other's stress levels up any further. With a quick kiss of his own, that being all he felt Max could handle at the moment, he made a final check on Soleil before heading out.

Ricky was the last person he wanted to see, given their history, but he had a hunch that he was the person mostly responsible for what he assumed to be Max's drunkenness. Allowing him to get that wasted and then unceremoniously dumping him on the doorstep without waiting to see if he got in safely was a crime in itself, and for that alone, he was furious. Furious enough to start banging his fists on the door and threatening to break in when it wasn't answered quick enough for his liking.

"I swear to god, open up or I'll knock it fucking down-- you know I will, Ricky."
 
“Why the fuck are you here?” Ricky replied eventually once opening the door, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Just because he was sober enough to drug Max didn’t mean he hadn’t gotten wasted afterwards. Staring up at Milo, he grimaced in disgust.

“What is it now? What, did I look over your boyfriend too much? Is that it?” He scoffed, leaning against the doorway. “Get the fuck out of here, Milo, I’m not in the mood for you,” he grumbled before quickly closing the door on the alien’s face. While a part of him fully intended to have his way with Maxwell, he wasn’t completely heartless. He woke up with regret he didn’t expect to have, though he would never admit it. “I’ll call the cops if you don’t leave.”
 
"Call the cops, maybe I'll chat to them about why my boyfriend came back unable to even see clearly. I've seen him drunk before-- he doesn't get like that. What did you do to him, hm? Maybe you should call the cops, I'm sure we'd have a good discussion about last night," he retorted, hesitating by the door. Despite his threats, he didn't want to do anything that could get him into serious trouble. He knew Max didn't like being alone, and he now also had Soleil to care for. Getting stuck in prison wasn't ideal - but Ricky did have a way of provoking him, as became clear when the door was kicked open.

"Maybe you didn't think I was serious. What did you do to him? I'm only going to ask you once, Ricky. You kinda know what happens when you don't do what I want you to," he murmured, eyeing the other's bruised nose in satisfaction as he shut the door behind himself. He had no intention of leaving, not without a detailed explanation of what had happened to Max, at least.

"Now, I don't wanna hurt you, but... hey, I kinda enjoy punching you. Maybe that makes me sadistic, or maybe it's just an alien thing, I dunno. I don't think you want me to hurt you again, so start speaking, hm?"
 
“I don’t know what the hell youre talking about,” he replied flatly behind the door, pinching the bridge of his nose with a deep sigh. “I barely spoke to him. I thought you already knew that he’s too much of a fucking hassle since you follow him around like a lost puppy.”

Running a hand through his hair, he opened it just a crack to shoot a grimace towards the other. “What, did something happen? You do realize other people come to my parties, right? I’m not the only person to ever talk to your boyfriend.”
 
Forcing his way in, not particularly caring how much force he used to do so, he didn't calm down despite the somewhat believable reply. He could take that as gospel and head back home, but he felt he knew Ricky well enough to realise that he could lie his way out of anything. He naturally assumed he was playing innocent and naive, rather than believe his word straight away. Ricky didn't really strike him as a trustworthy sort of guy, after all.

"Do you really think you have the upperhand? Do you not think I'd knock your brains out if I wanted to? I don't really understand why you think you can insult me after you've seen what I can do to you? Either you've got guts, or you're an idiot. Personally, I'm leaning towards the latter," he remarked, genuinely amused by the insults aimed at him. He had exposed himself as inhuman and almost knocked Ricky out twice, yet the other still had the balls to insult him? It was staggering-- but not appreciated whatsoever.

"Max came back in a terrible state and it was your party. We both know you're pissed off you never got a chance to be with him, so I assume you did something fucking despicable-- what did you do, hm? Spike his drink?"
 
“I don’t appreciate you accusing me of something so fucked up, Milo. I’m not a monster like you,” he quickly replied, stepping back with a huff as he stood his ground. “I fucking told you, I barely spoke to him. I saw him chug back just a bit too much, saying he was stressed out because of some baby and I took him home. Is that honestly so hard to believe? I’m not a super villain. Besides, I told Max that I was going after Kimberly Sykes,” he explained rather flawlessly, outside of the small twitch in his eye he often had when stressed.

“Get the fuck out of my house. I don’t like being accused of shit I didn’t do,” he insisted defensively, his fists clutched. “Fuck, maybe he did get something in his drink but like I said, I’m not the only person to talk to your boring boyfriend. Not my fucking problem - you should be happy I dropped him off at all.”
 
"...He said he was stressed out because of the baby?" He questioned, his anger seeming to take a hit once hearing those words. He had every right to continue to be mad at Ricky, even if it was just over his abrupt abandonment of Max, but knowing his boyfriend had been telling everyone he was so stressed because of Soleil did hurt him more than anything else he heard. He knew the likelihood was that Max was drunk and unable to stop himself, and he also knew that a baby was stressful, especially when he hadn't asked for that addition to his life, but it didn't mean Milo couldn't feel upset about it.

"Whatever, I-- sorry. Sorry for barging in," he mumbled awkwardly, the one comment about Soleil seeming to have caused every anger feeling to disappear. "...I just assumed-- sorry, I... thanks for dropping him off anyway, that was... decent of you, I guess."
 
“... yeah, I know it was,” he replied, moreso confirming it to himself. After all, he had paced around his house in contemplation on the actual righteousness of what he did. Looking away, he shoved his hands in the pockets of his pajama pants.

“I mean, even if I did anything, Max should have been more observant,” he grumbled bitterly, his shoulders stiffening. “Just get out of my house, I have papers to work on. Not everyone can just relax all day, eh? Some of us have, you know, jobs and school.” He huffed before grabbing the door, staring out onto the street.
 
"I don't mind if you're friends with him you know. Just because we don't get along doesn't mean I want to be an ass, controlling who he sees. Just... if you are friends with him, make sure he doesn't get this drunk again? It's not good for him," he muttered, this being the perfect case of his naivety coming into play. He hadn't had that much experience with people, at least not enough to pick up on body language. He wasn't incapable of hearing the other's remarks, but he was too exhausted to really acknowledge them in time.

"...Look, I am sorry," he apologised as he took a step outside, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I just-- I love him and I freaked out, that's all."
 
“Just leave.” He demanded flatly before closing the door, albeit with no slam - which was at least something. A lock could be heard soon after, then silence as Ricky returned to a mix of guilt and anxiety from both that night and his finals.

At home, despite Milo’s request, Maxwell had managed to make his way to the baby’s crib with only a few bumps and cuts from nearly slipping off the stairs. That being said, he was sleeping with his head resting against it, a blanket wrapped around him as he sat on the chair he had pulled up. He would only feel more guilty of something happened to Soleil while he was so close. He had already sent in his papers so why not? His muscles were screaming and he still felt ill but when he had a priority, he stuck to it.
 
"You're still in bed, right? Because-- you didn't fucking move this crib by yourself did you? It's heavy, Max," he criticised, out of concern more than anger at his word being overlooked. Once he was certain no damage had been done in the process, he relented a little from snapping and took a seat on the bed.

"...So Soleil stresses you out, huh? I mean, I get that, but did you really have to go and tell a party full of people? Including Ricky?" He questioned as calmly as he could, lips pursed. "...It's fine, Max. I don't have to live here if she stresses you out that much."
 
Rubbing his face once being woken up from his deep sleep, he furrowed his brow in confusion as he took in the accusations. Shaking his head slowly, he even dared to scoff in disbelief.

“What are you talking about? I didn’t even mention Soleil - at least, I don’t think I did. I mean, I didn’t bring her up because why would I?” He confirmed slowly as he tried to recollect at least something from that night. “Oh, the crib? It wasn’t very difficult. I think I slipped at one point but it was fine and she didn’t seem to really protest. In fact, she giggled - it was cute.”
 
"Right," he mumbled in return, his brows still furrowed. The situation wasn't easy for him and he didn't really want to run in circles trying to find out who had potentially slipped his boyfriend something. Hell, even that wasn't necessarily fact for him at this point. His idea of forgetting about it all and moving on seemed to provide the normality and peace he was currently craving. "...I went to see Ricky, it's all sorted. I just want to forget about this, alright? You're okay, you're not hurt-- just don't get that drunk again, it's a recipe for disaster, Max."
 
“Yeah, okay,” he agreed, albeit quietly as he absently moved Soleil’s hair a bit. “.... I should be angry that you lied and said you were going to the store, especially since it seems you didn’t bring anything back. Why did you go talk to Ricky? You didn’t hurt him, right? We can’t deal with trouble, Milo, especially now we have Soleil,” he noted.

Sitting up, he groaned when he heard a snap before moving the chair to climb onto the bed, sighing. “... would YOU want to go out? I mean, you’re the party animal here. I could look over Soleil - I ordered a baby book, to learn and everything.”