Days Bled Together

Sometimes Maxwell Ewing felt like he was floating in and out of scenes that just so happened to center around important moments in his life. He never told anyone, because he was afraid that if he did they would be afraid to talk to him. When he was younger he told his older sister, and she told his parents, and none of them spoke to him for a week. So whenever something went really wrong, he cut it out as fast as he could and hoped no one noticed before he got away. 

No one ever told Max those things could catch up to him.

His best friend had been in the hospital for a week, and he hadn’t so much as shown his face around work. Gerret had been concerned for him at first, but he could tell it was turning into confusion the longer things went on. Max had his suitcase half-packed, hidden in the closet so his husband wouldn’t see it. He knew what he had to do, but he really didn’t want to. So he did nothing.

Days bled together, and he felt like he was floating through again. Gerret talked to him when he got home every night and when they woke up every morning, but Max was not there.

“Do you need anything?” He would always say before leaving in the morning, and Max would say no, nothing.

“Con is concerned.” He would tell him after he got home, and Max would laugh because of course he was, it was part of his name! Gerret would frown at that.

“Tell me what’s going on.” Obviously nothing, Max said, he felt fit as a fiddle. Gerret would be hurt that he wouldn’t say anything, but Max would get away with it.

One day the door opened and in came Connor. Hello, Chief, did Gerret give you his key?

“What is your problem?” He hissed. No preamble, it seemed. Max responded that he had no idea what Connor was talking about, smiling sweetly.

“Yes you fucking do! You’ve been avoiding everyone for a week and a half! You haven’t come into work or to see Brad at all, you haven’t given us any warning or reason, and now you want to pretend you don’t know what’s happening? You were there. What is wrong with you?” 

Max didn’t say anything.

“You don’t even want to see Brad?”

“No,” he said, and immediately regretted it. Connor’s expression twisted. 

“He wants to see you.”

Max didn’t say anything.

“Why won’t you?” He demanded. 

Max frowned. Why? Because if Max didn’t see Brad, then it could be like nothing ever happened. Because if Max saw the damage it would bring back memories of blood and guns and bombs and rent flesh. Because Brad was there when he’d let those memories slip into the real world, and even if he was half-blacked out he still saw it and then he’d see it again. But Max couldn’t say any of that, or Connor might hate him.

Considering Connor probably already hated him, perhaps it didn’t matter. 

He opened his mouth, nothing came out, so he closed it and shrugged. Connor glared at him, turned around, and slammed the door behind him. Max didn’t move from that spot until Gerret came back.

“We’re going,” Gerret said, slipping on his coat. Max had just gotten out of a half-hour shower, hadn’t even eaten breakfast.

“I’d rather not,” He said.

“You’ve been in the house all day, every day for two weeks. It’s not healthy. We’re going.”

Max sighed, but conceded. Having something nice for breakfast couldn’t be all that bad.

They went to a popular pancake house a few blocks down from their apartment. Max ordered some weird special pancake that had oranges in it, and Gerret just got a plain shortstack. They tried each others’ and liked it better than their own, so they traded. It was nice to be in the moment and talk with his husband about nothing important. Even if he still had to skirt around Gerret’s attempts at broaching the difficult subject, even if he still felt a little fuzzy, a breakfast date was nice. 

“Max,” Gerret sighed, putting down his fork, and suddenly Max felt like he’d lost, “come with me to the hospital today.”

Connor’s voice echoed through his head.

“I’m not up to it,” he said.

“You can’t keep avoiding this forever,” Gerret said. At Max’s silence, he spoke again. “Are you going to run away? I’ve seen the suitcase. You thought I wouldn’t notice it. But that won’t work, Max. How are you going to get another job? Where are you going to go?”

He didn’t say anything.

“You have a life here, don’t you? With me. Them. I’m not… I can’t always be the support everyone needs. But they need you. Brad needs you there, he really does. Do you believe me?”

Max did believe him. And he knew that Gerret understood what was eating at him, at least mostly. Gerret had memories like his, and if Max felt like his support would do more harm than his absence, Gerret felt like that, too. But Gerret had gone anyways, and everything was still fine for him, wasn’t it? He looked up at those gentle amber eyes, almost pleading.

“...okay.”

There were those dark thoughts, of course, when they’d finally come, but Gerret stood by his side and kept him grounded enough to hold a conversation. Soon they were joking like nothing had ever happened, and it was like a muscle shifted back into place after being coiled for so long. He thought Brad probably felt the same.

When it was dark and Gerret had already headed out to the subway, Max lingered. He said “I’m sorry,” and Brad said “I forgive you,” without a moment of hesitation. He smiled, and told him he’d see him tomorrow, and ran to catch up to his husband. He laced his slender fingers with Gerret’s as they waited for their train, and Gerret gave his hand a squeeze. 

When they got home, there was a message from Connor on his phone. ‘About time,’ it said, though Max could tell it was meant to be teasing. He wondered if that meant Connor had forgiven him, too. It filled his mind with strange thoughts, about people he hadn’t seen in years, that carried him until he was curled up next to Gerret in bed, head on his shoulder and arm draped across his chest. 

“Sorry for making you think I was going to leave,” he whispered, while the moment of clarity gripped him, “I never would.”

Gerret curled an arm around his shoulders, buried his nose in his hair so that Max could feel a relieved smile find its way to his face. 

“Thanks,” he whispered back, and Max floated off again.

He was staring at his phone screen two days later, thumb hovering over the ‘call’ button. It was pretty easy to find their numbers. Isaac lived in the next city over, turned out. Coincidental, that they’d all ended up here. After holding that position for minutes, he deleted the number and set the phone down, frowning at it from where his head rested on his elbow. He picked it back up, and dialed the second number, and pressed the button before he could think about it.

The phone rang.

The phone rang some more. 

It went to voicemail.

“Um,” he said after the beep, before panicking and hanging up.

He immediately dialed the number again. Again, it went to voicemail. He tried again.

“Hey, uh, I don’t really have a reason for calling… Just wanted to say hi, I guess. Hope you’re doing alright.” He hung up and banged his head down on the table. He didn’t even say what he meant to. And he couldn’t even bring himself to try Isaac. What was he even doing? It wasn’t as if this would change anything. He had his own perfect life, and they probably had theirs just fine without him. 

Thinking about Piper reminded him of Keyes. He’d called him a ‘corrupt cop.’ Now Max wondered if he hadn’t been right about that all along. Maybe Max was just a corrupt person. He said and did awful things and now he realized that he had always been wrong. Should he apologize to Keyes, as well? Would that fix anything? He wondered where Gerret was. Probably at the hospital. He supposed he should go, too. Ever since he’d left with Gerret two days ago, it felt like something malevolent had moved into the apartment in his place. And now, whenever he was there, it loomed over him.

By the time he’d resolved to leave and come back to the real world, it was already dark. He checked his phone to see if Gerret had texted him. Instead, there was a message from Piper.

‘What do you want’

‘Nothing, I just w--’

He deleted it.

‘I don’t want anything, but I thought that you--’

He deleted it.

‘I wanted to say sorry.’

He sent it and left.

‘Why?’ She’d replied. Max wondered if she just wanted to hear him say it.

‘I shouldn’t have left. And I shouldn’t have assumed you were guilty. I don’t know, all of it,’ he said.

‘But why now?’

‘My friend got shot,’ he said, chewing the inside of his cheek, ‘I almost did it again, but they didn’t let me. And I think I was wrong.’

She left him hanging on ‘read.’ He eventually gave up waiting for an answer, assuming she had blocked his number, and started working on the dishes. He could hear Ginger pawing and hissing at the pigeons settled on their windowsills behind him. 

A shrill tone almost startled the plate right out of his hands. His phone was ringing. He picked it up and read the numbers. It was Piper’s. He slowly pressed the button to pick up, and brought the device to his ear.

“Hello?”

“I want to hear you say it,” she said.

“I’m sorry?” 

“The whole thing, asshole,” she growled.

“Okay,” He sighed, “I’m sorry for leaving you and Isaac. I didn’t even say anything, and I know I hurt you both. I shouldn’t have. And I’m sorry for, for trying to get you fucking convicted, I just, thought you must have been guilty, but that was… I’m awful. I’m sorry.”

She didn’t respond for some time, but Max just kept the phone pressed to his skull.

“You really aren’t bullshitting.” She sounded awed.

“No.”

“Your friend die?”

“No, he’s recovering. It was just the shoulder.”

“That could still kill.” They both knew that.

“The doctors say he’s okay.”

“Well… good.” She seemed to fumble. 

“Yeah,” he replied.

Another space of silence.

“See you, then,” She said.

“See you,” he said, and hung up.

She called again a few days later.

“Hey, you wanna come to my kid’s football game? My fucking ex is gonna be there and I could use the moral support.” She offered so casually.

“I, uh, sure, I guess. What time is it?”

“Starts at five. You know Como High, right? Field’s easy to find.”

“M’kay. Can I bring my husband?”

“The more the merrier, or whatever.”

“Will do,” he said.

“Sweet.” She hung up.

This Piper wasn’t like the one he thought he knew. It felt as if she’d forgiven him already. But Piper held grudges, Piper was vengeful and quick to lash out before her opponent even had a chance. Why was she even giving him the time of day? 

“You’re different,” he said when he found her in the bleachers, brow furrowed.

“So are you,” she said with a shrug. He… had never heard that before. 

He didn’t have time to call Isaac. Instead, they ran into each other at the grocery store. Max saw him first, he was with another man and two children. A family. The man with him was clearly teasing him, trying to take some of the bags out of his arms. Isaac’s back was turned to him, but he was probably smiling that indulgent smile of his, and trying to pull his arms away. The older child with them said something and took one of the bags without a fight, and Isaac seemed to laugh, shaking his head. 

The other man happened to glance his way, and did a double-take, eyes widening. Max immediately turned around and walked away as fast as he could. 

He ducked into one of the far isles and stared at the juice boxes adorning its shelves. He didn’t know how much time passed as he stood there, mind blank. 

“Max,” a quiet voice spoke. He turned to Isaac. “It’s been a long time.”

Max looked away.

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“I know,” Isaac said.

“I’m okay now.” Isaac tells him, and he slowly lifts his eyes back up to meet his brother’s. “Everyone has something like this. Getting hurt. Mine just happened to be-- really hard.”

Max didn’t say anything. He wouldn’t know what to say. He didn’t have anything like that. He just made those things harder for everyone around him.

“Sometimes I wish it had been you instead.” Isaac said. Max turned away. “You wouldn’t have been able to run, then.”

“I take it you’re still not happy with me, then.” He laughed half-heartedly.

“I’m not sure. Sorry.”

“That’s okay. That’s normal, I think.” He really didn’t know. Maybe it was just normal for them.

Isaac nodded, seemed to be considering something, then, just as silently as he crept up on him, he left. 

“You know, Phoebe came by a while ago,” Piper said, when he told her about his encounter with Isaac.

“What? Phoebe did? Why?”

Piper shrugged. 

“She heard about his surgery, somehow. I have no idea. She knew about our private celebration, too. It was actually kinda creepy.”

Max snorted and shook his head.

“Aw, man, she crashed your guys’ party? So sorry.”

“Actually,” she seemed bemused, “she wasn’t as much of a bitch as I remember. Weird, huh?”

“So like, average levels of bitch.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Hilarious. But no, she was actually kinda nice. She has a, uh, ‘long-term boyfriend’ and a kid who’s already a married adult themselves. It was strange, but not bad, I guess.”

“Isaac was fine with it…?”

“Not at first. Neither was I, actually, he got over it way faster.” She chuckled, shook her head. “Look, what I’m trying to say is that he’s gonna be upset for a bit still. You hurt him more than Phoebe did. But stick with it, and he’ll get over it the same way I did. Just don’t run away again, or you’ll lose my forgiveness, too, got it asshole?”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it.” He smiled. “I’ll try.”

“Good.” She punched his arm.

“Sometimes,” he said to Gerret one night, “I feel like I’m not really here.”

“Does it happen a lot?” He asked. Max nodded against his arm. “... You know, talking to people makes it easier for me.”

So Max told him everything. He told him about how afraid he is to let anyone think he’s unhappy. How he was awful to his siblings and how Isaac still doesn’t forgive him. About how even though he’s trying to fix things, he still feels disconnected a lot, instead of being happy like he’s supposed to be. He asks Gerret if that’s normal. Gerret says not the specifics, but everyone has something like this. It startles him.

Then, Gerret says “did that help?” And Max thinks about it, and he says, “yeah, I think it did.”

“Good,” Gerret says, “then let’s keep doing that.”