[mm; a letter]
Christmas Eve is a few days away, there's a ton of snow outside, a pile of cookies on the counter, and Max couldn't possibly feel any less festive.
He's not getting hopped up on spiked egg nog and candy canes and chocolate and cookies, he's not hanging out with his mom in toasty Florida, and he's not singing karaoke at the CONTROL Christmas party. He's up in room 823, writing a letter at Ben's desk.
It reads:
"Ben,
There's a saying - maybe you've heard it before - that says if you love someone, set them free. If they come back, they're yours; if they don't, they never were. Much as it hurts, I've set you free.
Please come back.
All I'm asking is for you to give us one more chance. Just one. We don't have to move back in together, we can even call off the engagement, I don't mind (we did kind of rush into things, didn't we?) I just want you back. I can't stand being apart like this. We may not be perfect but that doesn't matter, because I've never cared about anybody as much as I care about you, and I know you're probably wondering why I still feel this way in light of all that's happened. I can tell you why, and it's very simple: in spite of everything, you made me happy. You made me really really happy, and I know I made you feel the same way at least once or twice.
I know we can make this work. We wouldn't still be together if we couldn't, because this whole thing would have crumbled to pieces before it had a chance to reach this point. I never would have proposed to you if I had any doubt that we wouldn't work in the long run, and that ring I gave you is a promise even though there aren't any vows behind it. I want to be with you and I want to help you and I want to make you happy, but you need to give me the chance to do that. I don't know how we can fix this, but I also know that being apart isn't really helping either of us.
I know you don't know what you want right now, but if you give this one more chance, I promise, I'll give you whatever you decide you want in the future. If you want to go back to the Island, you can go. If you want space, I won't crowd you. If you want a family... well, we'll figure that out if the time comes.
This isn't the most eloquent letter ever, and it's certainly not the sappiest (really, you don't want my brand of sap, because I say things like "your eyes are like pools that I want to drown in" and just get stared at) but it's all very true. I could instead bombard you with sayings like "love conquers all" and "love never fails" and "all you need is love" but none of those are really true, are they? I think love is more like a catalyst and we can't rely on just that to get us through this. We need to work together... am I even making any sense? Probably not, because I'm rambling. Sorry about that.
I'm assuming this is where you start rolling your eyes, so I'll stop writing.
I love you, Ben, and part of me always will - even if you don't want to give this another shot.
~ Max"
After signing his name, he rereads it and frowns. A little voice in his head is telling him to throw it away because it's crap and Ben won't bother reading past the first line, but there's another voice telling him to grow a pair and deliver it to the bar because really, what's the worst that can happen?
(Ben can say no. That would be the worst...)
It takes a while, but after some mental debate, he folds the letter and places it in an envelope.
Twenty minutes later, after nearly burning a hole through it by staring, Max writes "What I want for Christmas" on the envelope and brings it downstairs.
He's not getting hopped up on spiked egg nog and candy canes and chocolate and cookies, he's not hanging out with his mom in toasty Florida, and he's not singing karaoke at the CONTROL Christmas party. He's up in room 823, writing a letter at Ben's desk.
It reads:
"Ben,
There's a saying - maybe you've heard it before - that says if you love someone, set them free. If they come back, they're yours; if they don't, they never were. Much as it hurts, I've set you free.
Please come back.
All I'm asking is for you to give us one more chance. Just one. We don't have to move back in together, we can even call off the engagement, I don't mind (we did kind of rush into things, didn't we?) I just want you back. I can't stand being apart like this. We may not be perfect but that doesn't matter, because I've never cared about anybody as much as I care about you, and I know you're probably wondering why I still feel this way in light of all that's happened. I can tell you why, and it's very simple: in spite of everything, you made me happy. You made me really really happy, and I know I made you feel the same way at least once or twice.
I know we can make this work. We wouldn't still be together if we couldn't, because this whole thing would have crumbled to pieces before it had a chance to reach this point. I never would have proposed to you if I had any doubt that we wouldn't work in the long run, and that ring I gave you is a promise even though there aren't any vows behind it. I want to be with you and I want to help you and I want to make you happy, but you need to give me the chance to do that. I don't know how we can fix this, but I also know that being apart isn't really helping either of us.
I know you don't know what you want right now, but if you give this one more chance, I promise, I'll give you whatever you decide you want in the future. If you want to go back to the Island, you can go. If you want space, I won't crowd you. If you want a family... well, we'll figure that out if the time comes.
This isn't the most eloquent letter ever, and it's certainly not the sappiest (really, you don't want my brand of sap, because I say things like "your eyes are like pools that I want to drown in" and just get stared at) but it's all very true. I could instead bombard you with sayings like "love conquers all" and "love never fails" and "all you need is love" but none of those are really true, are they? I think love is more like a catalyst and we can't rely on just that to get us through this. We need to work together... am I even making any sense? Probably not, because I'm rambling. Sorry about that.
I'm assuming this is where you start rolling your eyes, so I'll stop writing.
I love you, Ben, and part of me always will - even if you don't want to give this another shot.
~ Max"
After signing his name, he rereads it and frowns. A little voice in his head is telling him to throw it away because it's crap and Ben won't bother reading past the first line, but there's another voice telling him to grow a pair and deliver it to the bar because really, what's the worst that can happen?
(Ben can say no. That would be the worst...)
It takes a while, but after some mental debate, he folds the letter and places it in an envelope.
Twenty minutes later, after nearly burning a hole through it by staring, Max writes "What I want for Christmas" on the envelope and brings it downstairs.