The Writer | #4✓

Chapter 24

Should I ask him now? I wondered to myself, staring at my boyfriend as he tried to explain to me how he played his cello. We were in his room, and I was sitting on his bed. His mood had improved over the week, and today he was as bright as a peach, so I wondered if I would just be a pushover if I brought up what happened that day in my room.

"Maxwell," I called out to him, making up my mind. I found myself taking a deep breath when he looked up from his instrument to stare at me. Biting my bottom lip, I adjusted my sitting position on his bed.

"That day you came into my room," I started, and I watched as his expression dulled, but I refused to back down. Maxwell needed to learn how to stop suppressing things, and generally how he felt. Right now, I knew he was trying to seem happy just for me. "When I asked about your mum you just shut down and refused to say anything. Do you want to talk about that now?" I asked, and Maxwell's gaze just moved to the carpet.

His lip seemed to tremble, and I almost decided to back off. Almost.

"Maxwell," I started, getting up from his bed before walking over to him. He was sitting on a chair, and I just stopped right in front of him before letting out a sigh. "Please talk to me. It's dangerous to keep things like that to yourself." And at my words, Maxwell started to silently cry. He let go of his Cello, and I made to kneel beside him before pulling him into a partial hug. I let him cry. I let him get the grief out of his system.

When he had calmed down I pulled away from him. His eyelashes had teardrops on them now, and he was sniffling as he tried to control his breathing.

"Everything was going fine then I told her about you." My blood ran cold at that. I could guess what happened.

"I don't know, she was being so nice. I told her about you — my boyfriend — and she just turned sore. I..." Maxwell started sobbing again and I reached out to hug him again.

"Maxwell..." I wasn't sure what to say so I kept quiet after that. Things were going well, and he talked about me. His parents were both giving him a cold shoulder because of me.

"Why--" I said, pausing then sighing. I wasn't sure what to say. Why did you tell your mum?

"Don't leave," he croaked into my shoulder, and I just knelt there holding him.

"I would never do that," I assured him, pulling away from him before watching him wipe his eyes. "You have me. You'll always have me."

"Promise?" he asked, and I blinked before thinking about it. I bit my bottom lip, and after a while of hesitating, I nodded, and Maxwell seemed to sigh in relief.

"I hope I'm not being too clingy, I just..." he trailed off, not saying anything afterward. "I just, you know... I love you," he said, getting up from his seat, and I got up from the stool soon after, following him to his bed. We sat beside each other, not saying much as time passed by.

"Xander," Maxwell called out, speaking up first, I turned to him, looking at his face that had now lost its fake excitement and gone dull. "You mean a lot to me," he said, looking up from the carpet to stare at me. His brown eyes, piercing my green ones. The intensity of it made me look down at the floor.

"I didn't want you to worry about it. It's not your fault—"

"But she did that because you were talking about me," I cut in, looking up to find Maxwell staring down at his hands before biting his bottom lip.

"It doesn't matter," he said, leaning into me before taking my cheeks into his hands. "You said that keeping things in was worse than pretending to be happy, remember?" he asked, and I nodded.