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

EIGHTY-SIX

Our clothes were clinging to our bodies, our hair flattened to the back of our necks and foreheads, as I pushed through the front door. Getting us from the rain into the dry indoors.

I kicked the flip flops off my feet, placing my wet bare feet on the tiled floor of the hallway, and breathlessly brushed the wet hair back from my face. I could feel him moving around behind me. He was a quiet warmth caressing the insides of my personal space and I fought the need to wrap my arms around him and melt our drenched chests together. Call it instinct, or chalk it up to the jumbled thoughts and emotions slipping through the connection from him, but he was too distracted just now to accept my closeness. He was desperate to get the rest of the information from his father. Desperate in a hopeless hollow way.

I understood his need for distance, for space, because I reacted the same way when life overwhelmed me. I knew that he still needed me close, evident from him moving around me so closely, but I didn't want to push myself at him. Because, to be honest, I was part of the equation he was mulling over. His need to keep me away from the freakish - even if the freak happened to be him - overrode his need to be intimately close to me.

I swallowed back the hurt his low opinions about himself brought. The sadness that made my stomach twist painfully, while my heart slammed brutally with his pain against the inside of my ribcage.

Even if things had turned bad right after his energy blasts; expelling all that energy and finding an outlet for his anger and frustration had helped. But it hadn't removed the truth. The truth was too big, too confusing, to ignore with a couple of energy blasts.

He was bending down to untie his dirty sneakers as his mother came around the corner. At the sight of her flustered face and overall breathless appearance, I became aware of the smell of bacon surrounding us.

Her eyes widened and her lips parted in shock, before she frowned and admonished, "Look at you! What were you doing outside? It's pouring down!"

"We needed some air," I answered sheepishly, glancing over at Max. Max, who was still in his own world of conflicting thoughts. Max, who was unresponsive as he continued to methodically untie his shoes.

My lingering gaze turned concerned before I looked back at Diane to see her eyes having soaked up that same concern. She kept her eyes on the top of Max's dark head, as she lowered her voice and asked me, "What happened?"

"He's fine," I answered, my answer too quick and too hopeful.

Her eyebrows screwed tighter together and her voice held the tone of a worried mother demanding answers. "Max. What happened?"

I pulled my lower lip between my teeth, absently chewing on it, as I watched Max finish removing his shoes in silence, letting his mother wait for a reply. I knew that he wasn't doing it intentionally. His mind was too far away. He hadn't even noticed her asking.

Diane waited patiently, her face hardening with increasing worry with every second her question went unanswered.

"Max?" I implored quietly. He looked up at me, giving my heart a small squeeze of deep love at the fact that he had heard me through all the noise in his head.

His eyebrows pulled low as he noticed his mother standing in front of us. "Mom?" Slowly, he raised up to his full height, towering over both Diane and I.

"Did you not hear me?" Diane asked. Her voice had lost its chiding perplexity, overruled by confusion.

Max looked over at me in the search for answers, before he answered, "Um... Did you ask something?"

My mouth felt dry the more I looked at him. His shoulders were dropped forward, a defeated angle to his head, a blankness to his facial features, a confused emptiness to his usually expressive eyes. The wetness of the rain was weighing his clothes down, flattening and darkening his hair, painting a general impression of resignedness over his usually strong and empowering presence.