Unbreakable - A Beautiful Lie · (Roswell Fanfiction) · √

ONE ZERO THREE

We always had to be at least two. No humans were allowed to be on their own. In other words; Humans always had to be in the company of an alien.

This didn't alter my situation much, considering that I was always in the vicinity of Max anyway. Hence, only Maria reacted - with a disapproving frown - when Max followed me to the bathroom just after I'd had that talk with Maria about her not trusting those aliens as far as she could throw them (which wasn't very far, probably).

Jokingly - with Maria's eyes watching us - I had told Max that I was not far enough into our relationship for him to see me pee, but when he had informed me - with a cheeky grin nonetheless - that it was either him or Isabel, I quickly settled for him.

The bathroom was bare. The walls were yellow, painted directly on concrete. The light was a naked bulb, dangling from a dirtied, formerly-white cord, covered in dusty spider webs. That single light source didn't distribute evenly throughout the rather large room, barely making it into the corners and cloaking them in shadows.

Sitting there on that old porcelain toilet seat, while trying not to think of when that toilet had been last cleaned, I was glad that Max was there with me. It meant that it took five minutes longer for me to pee (I'm not good with public urination), but at least I wasn't alone in the bathroom that felt like it was taken straight out of a horror movie.

Max gave me as much privacy as he could. He had his back turned towards me the whole time, walking along the uneven walls, looking at them as if he was in an art gallery perusing expensive paintings.

I watched the broadness of his back. Watched the impressiveness of his proud stature. Watch the darkness of his hair, the strong lines of his neck. My gaze traveled down his bottom, down his jeans clad legs.

"You're making it difficult for me to remain interested in this wall," Max mumbled under his breath, his voice husky and strained.

Heat instantly crept into my cheeks and an embarrassed smile grazed my lips.

"Sorry," I mumbled, turned towards the dusty toilet roll, banged it against the side of the toilet a couple of times, creating a small cloud of dust, before tearing off a piece.

Pulling my pants up while standing, I felt Max's eyes on me when I hit the small lever on the side of the toilet tank, hoping that it would actually flush. It sounded like the water jets of a budget jacuzzi, but flush it did.

I glanced at Max, a self-conscious smile on my lips, and forced myself not to get lost in his eyes. Rather I focused on getting to the sink to wash my hands. It was aluminum. Industrial. Like the type of sink you might find in the furthest back corner of a car workshop, covered in old layers of oil stains and grease.

The water was freezing cold, but it felt nice to wash my hands. While I moved them in and out of the stream (if I held them there for too long my fingers would surely freeze and fall off), Max's arms snaked around my waist, his body pressing up against my back.

With a comfortable sigh, I melted back into his chest, closing my eyes as his chin touched the curve of my neck for a second before he placed a gentle kiss against the center of that arch.

"I miss you," I whispered. The unique scent of Max enveloped me and I relaxed. My breathing slowed, my shoulders slumped with the absence of tension and my head felt lighter.

"I miss you too," he whispered back, his dark voice causing delicious vibrations across my skin.

My hands were cold and dripping with water when I turned off the faucet and placed them on top of his hands around my waist. "It feels like we haven't been alone in ages."