(no subject)
Title: Heartache Every Moment
Chapter Title: Run
Author: slasher48 /
bad_bad_books
Rating: PG
Pairing: Max/Tom (woot!)
Disclaimer: Nope, they're not mine, tragically.
Be prepared..you might need a tissue
Hmm
OMG
No Way
End
Max's POV
"No. I never want to see him again, as a matter of fact. Send him away." I hear Thomas speak the words that condemn me to death, a long, painful death of my soul, and I can't stop the gasp. He looks up in time to see me run, run far and fast from the agony that will surely catch up with me no matter where I am.
Yes, I had been about to do the same, but thinking of ending something so precious to me is entirely different than having it end. With Tom's words, my heart breaks, my soul burns into a charred mass of ash, and my mind is swamped by a hundred messages telling me to run for it. So I do, my large black sweatshirt whipping behind me as I race to my car and throw myself into the front seat, slamming the door behind me.
Only then do I allow a tear to escape, falling down my face as I turn the key and speed out of the lot, never looking back at a man I can't call my friend anymore. The thought only causes more tears as I pull into my driveway and run into my house.
I only manage to make it to the kitchen before I collapse against the wall, holding my head in my hands as a splitting pain cuts through it, sobbing uncontrollably as I drop to my knees, the pain too much to bear. My life is over...I am no longer Maxim Afinogenov, not without Thomas Vanek, never again without my best friend, just a shell of that.
It takes hours for me to cry myself out, but once all of the moisture is gone from my body, I can do nothing more than sit, slumped against the wall of my kitchen, and remember. Any thing about him, any small detail, absolutely any piece of Thomas that I've ever known, plays across my mind like a movie, each memory sending another dagger through my heart.
The first time we met, how we were so easy with each other, so comfortable, like we'd been friends since preschool. The first time we slept over at each other's house, how nervous we were that there would be awkwardness and confusion. The first time we scored a goal together, how wonderful it'd felt to do something so great with each other. Endless prank wars on every teammate of ours, both of us hidden in the bathroom, giggling at our latest joke.
The first time we lost a game, how horrible it had felt, but how amazing it had felt to be held by him until both of our tears had stopped falling, as he murmured comfort into my ear about how great of a hockey player and linemate I was to him, making me smile even as I mourned our loss. When Anika broke up with me, having him there to talk and joke about it, helping me get through one of the lowest points of my life.
And stupid little things, like playing 'catch the food in your mouth' with everything from popcorn to ice cream to pepperoni, laughing when we missed horribly and ended up splattering each other with numerous amounts of food. Or how he had no problem with me falling asleep on his shoulder during a movie. Sharing my ice cream with him when he forgot to wash two bowls, despite me telling him I'd never share strawberry. Everything, even the silliest, tiny thing, I miss.
I want it all, but he doesn't. He never wants to see me again. Directly from his mouth the words have come, so I couldn't even blame it on hearsay. He wants me out of his life.
I try to stand and manage to stumble over to the phone on the wall. Picking up the handset, I make my way into the living room and drop on the couch, dialing the number of Derek Roy.
"Talk to me," speaks the voice I know so well. I can hear the hum of the microwave on his line and I roll my eyes. Leftovers again.
"....Hey, Der."
I can hear his voice change as he hears the tremor in mine. "What's up, Max?"
I sigh, even as he walks into the living room where his tv is blaring with the reheated leftover...prolly pizza. "I'm quitting the team."
I hear the crash of a breaking plate and he swears loudly. "WHAT? Why?" Normally the mental image of him glaring at the pizza on the floor in a heap of broken porcelain would make me laugh, but it just causes me to be sadder as I realize I won't see it again for a long time.
"I'm leaving Buffalo, Derek, and I'm not coming back...not to the city, not to the team, and not to..." I stop myself just before his name leaves my lips, biting the bottom one hard enough to break the flesh.
He's got the phone between his shoulder and his ear, I can hear him better, I notice, as he squats to clean his floor, I'd guess."Not to what, Maxi? Or...wait, not to who?"
I nod, forgetting he can't see me. "Not to him. Not to Thomas."
I hear the thump of the shards of broken plate hitting the trash can and his loud gasp at the same time. "What?"
I shake my head, again forgetting that he can't see me. "I don't wanna talk about it, Der."
I should've known he won't take that answer. "Too fucking bad, Maxim. You obviously need to tell someone and you know I'm your friend and I won't judge anything you say. I'm coming over...you can tell me then." He hangs up the phone before I can protest and for a second I just stare at the floor, feeling like a little boy whose parents have moved without him, that lost, hopeless feeling I can't seem to escape since Tom spoke those fateful words in the hospital. I set the phone on the coffee table and stand wobbily to walk into the kitchen so I can brew a pot of coffee for Derek in gratitude for barging in my house and forcing me to talk to him.
Sipping a hot cup of jo, I fall back into the soft couch cushions and stare up at the ceiling, waiting for Derek.
()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()
Love it, hate it? I'm so melodramatic lol...comment pwease :)
Chapter Title: Run
Author: slasher48 /
bad_bad_books
Rating: PG
Pairing: Max/Tom (woot!)
Disclaimer: Nope, they're not mine, tragically.
Be prepared..you might need a tissue
Hmm
OMG
No Way
End
Max's POV
"No. I never want to see him again, as a matter of fact. Send him away." I hear Thomas speak the words that condemn me to death, a long, painful death of my soul, and I can't stop the gasp. He looks up in time to see me run, run far and fast from the agony that will surely catch up with me no matter where I am.
Yes, I had been about to do the same, but thinking of ending something so precious to me is entirely different than having it end. With Tom's words, my heart breaks, my soul burns into a charred mass of ash, and my mind is swamped by a hundred messages telling me to run for it. So I do, my large black sweatshirt whipping behind me as I race to my car and throw myself into the front seat, slamming the door behind me.
Only then do I allow a tear to escape, falling down my face as I turn the key and speed out of the lot, never looking back at a man I can't call my friend anymore. The thought only causes more tears as I pull into my driveway and run into my house.
I only manage to make it to the kitchen before I collapse against the wall, holding my head in my hands as a splitting pain cuts through it, sobbing uncontrollably as I drop to my knees, the pain too much to bear. My life is over...I am no longer Maxim Afinogenov, not without Thomas Vanek, never again without my best friend, just a shell of that.
It takes hours for me to cry myself out, but once all of the moisture is gone from my body, I can do nothing more than sit, slumped against the wall of my kitchen, and remember. Any thing about him, any small detail, absolutely any piece of Thomas that I've ever known, plays across my mind like a movie, each memory sending another dagger through my heart.
The first time we met, how we were so easy with each other, so comfortable, like we'd been friends since preschool. The first time we slept over at each other's house, how nervous we were that there would be awkwardness and confusion. The first time we scored a goal together, how wonderful it'd felt to do something so great with each other. Endless prank wars on every teammate of ours, both of us hidden in the bathroom, giggling at our latest joke.
The first time we lost a game, how horrible it had felt, but how amazing it had felt to be held by him until both of our tears had stopped falling, as he murmured comfort into my ear about how great of a hockey player and linemate I was to him, making me smile even as I mourned our loss. When Anika broke up with me, having him there to talk and joke about it, helping me get through one of the lowest points of my life.
And stupid little things, like playing 'catch the food in your mouth' with everything from popcorn to ice cream to pepperoni, laughing when we missed horribly and ended up splattering each other with numerous amounts of food. Or how he had no problem with me falling asleep on his shoulder during a movie. Sharing my ice cream with him when he forgot to wash two bowls, despite me telling him I'd never share strawberry. Everything, even the silliest, tiny thing, I miss.
I want it all, but he doesn't. He never wants to see me again. Directly from his mouth the words have come, so I couldn't even blame it on hearsay. He wants me out of his life.
I try to stand and manage to stumble over to the phone on the wall. Picking up the handset, I make my way into the living room and drop on the couch, dialing the number of Derek Roy.
"Talk to me," speaks the voice I know so well. I can hear the hum of the microwave on his line and I roll my eyes. Leftovers again.
"....Hey, Der."
I can hear his voice change as he hears the tremor in mine. "What's up, Max?"
I sigh, even as he walks into the living room where his tv is blaring with the reheated leftover...prolly pizza. "I'm quitting the team."
I hear the crash of a breaking plate and he swears loudly. "WHAT? Why?" Normally the mental image of him glaring at the pizza on the floor in a heap of broken porcelain would make me laugh, but it just causes me to be sadder as I realize I won't see it again for a long time.
"I'm leaving Buffalo, Derek, and I'm not coming back...not to the city, not to the team, and not to..." I stop myself just before his name leaves my lips, biting the bottom one hard enough to break the flesh.
He's got the phone between his shoulder and his ear, I can hear him better, I notice, as he squats to clean his floor, I'd guess."Not to what, Maxi? Or...wait, not to who?"
I nod, forgetting he can't see me. "Not to him. Not to Thomas."
I hear the thump of the shards of broken plate hitting the trash can and his loud gasp at the same time. "What?"
I shake my head, again forgetting that he can't see me. "I don't wanna talk about it, Der."
I should've known he won't take that answer. "Too fucking bad, Maxim. You obviously need to tell someone and you know I'm your friend and I won't judge anything you say. I'm coming over...you can tell me then." He hangs up the phone before I can protest and for a second I just stare at the floor, feeling like a little boy whose parents have moved without him, that lost, hopeless feeling I can't seem to escape since Tom spoke those fateful words in the hospital. I set the phone on the coffee table and stand wobbily to walk into the kitchen so I can brew a pot of coffee for Derek in gratitude for barging in my house and forcing me to talk to him.
Sipping a hot cup of jo, I fall back into the soft couch cushions and stare up at the ceiling, waiting for Derek.
()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()
Love it, hate it? I'm so melodramatic lol...comment pwease :)