Fic: Got To Believe
Author: Stephanie (Gildedmuse)
Title: Got To Believe
Fandom: Across The Universe
Characters/Pairings: Jude/Lucy, Jude/Max
Rating/Warning: PG
Word Count: 1,740
Summary: Sure, he's back from the war, but that doesn't mean all is right in Max's head.
Author's Note: I wrote this a few months ago and lost it on my computer. I'm honestly not sure how good it is... Good luck.
Got To Believe
Everyone is always saying how Max is getting better.
He doesn’t really get why, but every day someone will give him this cloying smile and say, “Hey, you look better today, Max.” or “Everything’s going good, huh, Max?”. They’ll say it like he might have forgotten his own name, like if they don’t mention it every time they talk to him, it will slip out of his head and Max will end up wandering the street without a clue.
They say it so much that they’ve got Max convinced that maybe he has forgotten who he is. It doesn’t sound so unlikely anymore.
He hasn’t just changed, everyone thinks that but Max isn’t so sure. At least, sometimes he is sure. When Jude set foot off the dock, it felt to Max like everything was going to be okay again, he could go back to just being Max. There was no harpy of morphine hanging off him, and all the edges that the military had filed down into sharp cuts softened back up at the chance that they could just go back. Be exactly like before the war and pretend all this shit never happened.
Then again… Jude spends most of his time not even looking at Max, like he’s got some disease and Jude can’t stand to stare. That is how it feels, and Max isn’t sure what is really going on anymore. Just every time he looks at Jude, his eyes fall away quickly and he picks up something to draw on and he’ll say, “Feeling good, huh, Max?” like everyone else and it’s kind of hard to just be Max when no one will let the whole war thing go.
Maybe Jude’s aversion has to do with Lucy and Jude’s last fight and, yeah, let’s not pretend the whole fucking building didn’t hear them. It’s time for little sister to grow up, apparently, to go off to a real college instead of wasting her life here. Who is going to take care of Max if she doesn’t grow up?
Lucy actually said that - he heard it being yelled through Jude’s wall - like she is his older brother. Like Max needs to be babied by his little sister. He’s fine, really, just that no one will actually believe him or give him a chance to get back on his feet. Everyone expects him to be this changed man, and Max has no idea who he is suppose to be for them.
He wants them to all slow down and let Max catch up and get back up, just like before, the same old Max who doesn’t need to be told he’s getting better every day.
The day she leaves, she finds Max sitting up on the roof, right at the edge as he watches the city work beneath it. How does it do it, keep pace with itself so perfectly? How does Lucy always manage to find him? Max has a lot more questions in his head than he remembers being up there before.
She’s been crying, it’s always so obvious when Lucy cries and she can never really hide it. She doesn’t try, sniffling as she brushes back Max’s hair, kissing his cheek. “I love you, Max,” she whispers, standing back, wiping her face clean. Max knows it is about Jude, and he feels he should offer to smack him around until he comes to his senses or something, but what good would it do when Lucy is already leaving? Max just doesn’t feel up to joking about fights right now. He doesn’t feel up to much, honestly.
“I’ll be back for vacation,” she promises, standing back with her arms crossed, waiting. Max can feel the air get heavy like it does when someone is waiting on you to do something, but Max doesn’t know his cues. Or, well, maybe he could figure them out, but it would just sort of be wasted. He doesn’t need Lucy to be his babysitter, his caretaker, whatever she’s making herself into. He just needs time and maybe some energy and maybe to remember who he is without people having to remind him.
She leaves, and the city goes dark. Maybe not all that quickly, that is just the way that Max remembers happening. Time sometimes slips away like that, and Max doesn’t know how to keep it still, but he thinks he might like that. If things slowed down to let him catch back up.
Oh, and Jude’s warm. On his cheek he can feel Jude’s breath, hot and smelling like coffee. Jude’s weight on his shoulders, his legs stretched out around Max.
Even in August, with heat rising up from the streets and the people packed in the city, the night air starts to get to Max after so long, but eventually Jude shows up and a blanket goes around Max’s shoulders. And Jude goes over Max as well. Or sort of, he sits behind Max, legs at either side and arms propped up on Max’s shoulders like he’s waiting for Max to move again but Max doesn’t see how he could ever move fast enough to keep up with everyone else.
So Jude just stays put, leaning against Max’s back and there is a whole lot of silence, but not the heavy sort. Max isn’t expected to say anything, just sit there, watching everyone on the street go home to their girlfriends or boyfriends or orgy cults, whatever they like. And Max stays up on the roof watching them, not sure how to get back down with them, really. It’s confusing, but people keep saying that he’s getting better, so he pretty much has to believe them.
He doesn’t want there to be silence. Before the whole bad trip to Vietnam, Max was loud. He fought with his parents, he made enough noise with his roommates at Princeton to get kicked out of three different houses and, well, everyone in the apartment knew when Max had a girl over. He isn’t a quiet guy, he never tried to be. Max likes… liked having fun, and fun can be loud, but that helped to drown out any thoughts of responsibility so who cared about a little reckless noise?
Now bomb sounds play again in his ears, and Max isn’t really sure what to do about those. But they’re kind of hard to talk over.
For some reason, Jude is hugging him. Max isn’t sure when it happened; he’d been gone, he isn’t sure where. It is another one of those time skips, and he can’t really explain anything that is happening to him anymore. Jude’s arms are around his waist and tight, like he’s clinging desperately, like Max is about to topple off the roof and to the street with a thud, which sounds like too much effort, really. And Jude’s face is buried against his shoulder, nose pressed right against his skin so that Max can feel the way his breath is shaking and the way his eyes water.
Even with the rush all around, it’s hard to ignore this moment. It feels a whole lot more still and steady then anything else Max can remember.
He turns his head and Jude doesn’t actually move, just stays attached to Max, head hiding against his shoulder and the blanket, starting to get wet now against Max’s skin.
The moment is slow enough, that Max has time to kiss Jude, which probably isn’t something he would have done, but Max is pretty confused about himself right now, and Jude looks like he needs something.. Probably Lucy, maybe to be back home, Max can’t really tell. It just sort of makes sense to kiss his cheek, right where all the tears are and, wow, kissing tears is like having the salty water of the Nom jungle poured into his mouth, choking him.
Instead of letting him die, Jude pulls back and Max can get in a slow breath, steady and deep as it settles in his lungs. New York air, safe and a little too sped up for Max to usually grasp, but right now… Everything is calm. Letting Max play catch up.
Jude squeezes Max around the waste and stares, finally stares with really deep and cutting eyes that Max feels like he should hide for. He isn’t used to Jude looking at him anymore and Max almost - almost - moves away, but it seems like that would tear him out of this slowness.
Jude doesn’t stare too long anyway. He sets his forehead against Max’s, and those sharp eyes close as he shakes his head gently. “I’m sorry, man, so sorry,” he whispers like Max has any idea what he means. Maybe the world has sped back up and Max missed the acceleration again. “I should have done something. Lucy is right, I’m sorry.”
“Hey, hey…” Max’s voice is hoarse from under use as he leans in with Jude. “Nothing you could do. Nothing Lucy or anyone could do, I tried the cotton balls and the cross dressing, remember?”
Jude snorts and starts to smile, a look that’s awkward when he’s still close to tears. “You still wear Sadie’s robe,” he points out, reaching up to wipe off his wet face. “Cross-dressing isn’t really out of your way.”
“Yeah, well…” Max keeps smiling at Jude, trying to act like everything is fine even though Max… Max is so slow lately and apparently it’s enough to guilt Jude into tears. Still, he laughs at Jude and tries to ignore the fact that he’d been crying for Jude’s sake. “Have you ever been in a girl’s robe? Comfortable shit.” Sniffling, Jude smiles back at Max so it at least seems like they’re normal.
He looks back out, beyond the edge of his socks and down at the pavement and the ant like people scurrying along. The weight of Jude’s chin settles on his shoulder, and Max does feel better, more like himself. At least Jude is letting him catch up, and Max can just be Max and not worry about if he is getting better. He just has to sit here with Jude, looming over the rushing city down below, and Max feels fucking fine, thank you very much.
Title: Got To Believe
Fandom: Across The Universe
Characters/Pairings: Jude/Lucy, Jude/Max
Rating/Warning: PG
Word Count: 1,740
Summary: Sure, he's back from the war, but that doesn't mean all is right in Max's head.
Author's Note: I wrote this a few months ago and lost it on my computer. I'm honestly not sure how good it is... Good luck.
Got To Believe
Everyone is always saying how Max is getting better.
He doesn’t really get why, but every day someone will give him this cloying smile and say, “Hey, you look better today, Max.” or “Everything’s going good, huh, Max?”. They’ll say it like he might have forgotten his own name, like if they don’t mention it every time they talk to him, it will slip out of his head and Max will end up wandering the street without a clue.
They say it so much that they’ve got Max convinced that maybe he has forgotten who he is. It doesn’t sound so unlikely anymore.
He hasn’t just changed, everyone thinks that but Max isn’t so sure. At least, sometimes he is sure. When Jude set foot off the dock, it felt to Max like everything was going to be okay again, he could go back to just being Max. There was no harpy of morphine hanging off him, and all the edges that the military had filed down into sharp cuts softened back up at the chance that they could just go back. Be exactly like before the war and pretend all this shit never happened.
Then again… Jude spends most of his time not even looking at Max, like he’s got some disease and Jude can’t stand to stare. That is how it feels, and Max isn’t sure what is really going on anymore. Just every time he looks at Jude, his eyes fall away quickly and he picks up something to draw on and he’ll say, “Feeling good, huh, Max?” like everyone else and it’s kind of hard to just be Max when no one will let the whole war thing go.
Maybe Jude’s aversion has to do with Lucy and Jude’s last fight and, yeah, let’s not pretend the whole fucking building didn’t hear them. It’s time for little sister to grow up, apparently, to go off to a real college instead of wasting her life here. Who is going to take care of Max if she doesn’t grow up?
Lucy actually said that - he heard it being yelled through Jude’s wall - like she is his older brother. Like Max needs to be babied by his little sister. He’s fine, really, just that no one will actually believe him or give him a chance to get back on his feet. Everyone expects him to be this changed man, and Max has no idea who he is suppose to be for them.
He wants them to all slow down and let Max catch up and get back up, just like before, the same old Max who doesn’t need to be told he’s getting better every day.
The day she leaves, she finds Max sitting up on the roof, right at the edge as he watches the city work beneath it. How does it do it, keep pace with itself so perfectly? How does Lucy always manage to find him? Max has a lot more questions in his head than he remembers being up there before.
She’s been crying, it’s always so obvious when Lucy cries and she can never really hide it. She doesn’t try, sniffling as she brushes back Max’s hair, kissing his cheek. “I love you, Max,” she whispers, standing back, wiping her face clean. Max knows it is about Jude, and he feels he should offer to smack him around until he comes to his senses or something, but what good would it do when Lucy is already leaving? Max just doesn’t feel up to joking about fights right now. He doesn’t feel up to much, honestly.
“I’ll be back for vacation,” she promises, standing back with her arms crossed, waiting. Max can feel the air get heavy like it does when someone is waiting on you to do something, but Max doesn’t know his cues. Or, well, maybe he could figure them out, but it would just sort of be wasted. He doesn’t need Lucy to be his babysitter, his caretaker, whatever she’s making herself into. He just needs time and maybe some energy and maybe to remember who he is without people having to remind him.
She leaves, and the city goes dark. Maybe not all that quickly, that is just the way that Max remembers happening. Time sometimes slips away like that, and Max doesn’t know how to keep it still, but he thinks he might like that. If things slowed down to let him catch back up.
Oh, and Jude’s warm. On his cheek he can feel Jude’s breath, hot and smelling like coffee. Jude’s weight on his shoulders, his legs stretched out around Max.
Even in August, with heat rising up from the streets and the people packed in the city, the night air starts to get to Max after so long, but eventually Jude shows up and a blanket goes around Max’s shoulders. And Jude goes over Max as well. Or sort of, he sits behind Max, legs at either side and arms propped up on Max’s shoulders like he’s waiting for Max to move again but Max doesn’t see how he could ever move fast enough to keep up with everyone else.
So Jude just stays put, leaning against Max’s back and there is a whole lot of silence, but not the heavy sort. Max isn’t expected to say anything, just sit there, watching everyone on the street go home to their girlfriends or boyfriends or orgy cults, whatever they like. And Max stays up on the roof watching them, not sure how to get back down with them, really. It’s confusing, but people keep saying that he’s getting better, so he pretty much has to believe them.
He doesn’t want there to be silence. Before the whole bad trip to Vietnam, Max was loud. He fought with his parents, he made enough noise with his roommates at Princeton to get kicked out of three different houses and, well, everyone in the apartment knew when Max had a girl over. He isn’t a quiet guy, he never tried to be. Max likes… liked having fun, and fun can be loud, but that helped to drown out any thoughts of responsibility so who cared about a little reckless noise?
Now bomb sounds play again in his ears, and Max isn’t really sure what to do about those. But they’re kind of hard to talk over.
For some reason, Jude is hugging him. Max isn’t sure when it happened; he’d been gone, he isn’t sure where. It is another one of those time skips, and he can’t really explain anything that is happening to him anymore. Jude’s arms are around his waist and tight, like he’s clinging desperately, like Max is about to topple off the roof and to the street with a thud, which sounds like too much effort, really. And Jude’s face is buried against his shoulder, nose pressed right against his skin so that Max can feel the way his breath is shaking and the way his eyes water.
Even with the rush all around, it’s hard to ignore this moment. It feels a whole lot more still and steady then anything else Max can remember.
He turns his head and Jude doesn’t actually move, just stays attached to Max, head hiding against his shoulder and the blanket, starting to get wet now against Max’s skin.
The moment is slow enough, that Max has time to kiss Jude, which probably isn’t something he would have done, but Max is pretty confused about himself right now, and Jude looks like he needs something.. Probably Lucy, maybe to be back home, Max can’t really tell. It just sort of makes sense to kiss his cheek, right where all the tears are and, wow, kissing tears is like having the salty water of the Nom jungle poured into his mouth, choking him.
Instead of letting him die, Jude pulls back and Max can get in a slow breath, steady and deep as it settles in his lungs. New York air, safe and a little too sped up for Max to usually grasp, but right now… Everything is calm. Letting Max play catch up.
Jude squeezes Max around the waste and stares, finally stares with really deep and cutting eyes that Max feels like he should hide for. He isn’t used to Jude looking at him anymore and Max almost - almost - moves away, but it seems like that would tear him out of this slowness.
Jude doesn’t stare too long anyway. He sets his forehead against Max’s, and those sharp eyes close as he shakes his head gently. “I’m sorry, man, so sorry,” he whispers like Max has any idea what he means. Maybe the world has sped back up and Max missed the acceleration again. “I should have done something. Lucy is right, I’m sorry.”
“Hey, hey…” Max’s voice is hoarse from under use as he leans in with Jude. “Nothing you could do. Nothing Lucy or anyone could do, I tried the cotton balls and the cross dressing, remember?”
Jude snorts and starts to smile, a look that’s awkward when he’s still close to tears. “You still wear Sadie’s robe,” he points out, reaching up to wipe off his wet face. “Cross-dressing isn’t really out of your way.”
“Yeah, well…” Max keeps smiling at Jude, trying to act like everything is fine even though Max… Max is so slow lately and apparently it’s enough to guilt Jude into tears. Still, he laughs at Jude and tries to ignore the fact that he’d been crying for Jude’s sake. “Have you ever been in a girl’s robe? Comfortable shit.” Sniffling, Jude smiles back at Max so it at least seems like they’re normal.
He looks back out, beyond the edge of his socks and down at the pavement and the ant like people scurrying along. The weight of Jude’s chin settles on his shoulder, and Max does feel better, more like himself. At least Jude is letting him catch up, and Max can just be Max and not worry about if he is getting better. He just has to sit here with Jude, looming over the rushing city down below, and Max feels fucking fine, thank you very much.