restless (maxian)

5

Max woke up the next morning with a jolt. Was it already 9am?

He jumped out of bed and checked his phone.

9:49 am
Saturday, October 23

"Oh." Max said to himself.

His mind wandered to Ian. Him on top of the other boy. He shook the thought away. Could it leave him alone for three seconds?

Then he remembered the Jason incident and how Ian held him afterward. His arms felt like a blanket, wrapping tightly around his waist and stomach. It caused tingling sensation wherever he touched. His fingers danced atop Max's skin ever so slightly, only increasing the tingling.

Max yawned and checked his phone again, searching for any texts from Ian. Nothing. What happened last night? Ian's arms were the last thing he remembered.

He didn't care.

Max, still only in his boxers from sleeping, made his way downstairs and made himself some toast. His mom wasn't home due to work and his dad hadn't been home in 12 years.

A drug dealer on the streets, is how Max likes to refer to him. Sad, yes, but that's simply what it is. The man at the corner asking for money was Max's dad, but he meant nothing to the 16 year old.

Ian.

Ian, Ian, Ian.

That's all that was on the boys mind, and he hated it. He needed to find a distraction from Ian. He opened his phone and went on the first website he saw when he looked up "gay hookups."

__

Max was never the one to enjoy random flings with random people, but this time he was desperate. Ian was on his mind constantly, it was starting to get annoying. He couldn't have Ian. He just could not. Ian was straight, and Max's best friend. There are just some lines Max wouldn't let himself cross and this was one of them.
No matter how good it felt to kiss him.

He found himself walking to the doorstop of a man named Jackson. Max lied about his age and said he was 18, and Jackson was also 18. Only two years shouldn't be a huge deal, he thought, waiting for the door to open.

Once it did open, a man with a bit of scruff opened the door. His hair was dark brown and he had eyes to match. He wore an off-white t-shirt with some logo on it that Max didn't recognize, and basketball shorts. He had a decent build and wide shoulders. Max had to stop himself from basically checking out the man before him before he noticed.

"Hey, Max, was it?"

His voice was scruffy, almost growl like. Max felt a shiver slide down his spine.

"Y-yeah," the younger boy managed, looking up at the taller one. His voice was almost shaking.

"Come on in then, mate."

Max followed Jackson inside. The house smelled of smoke. There were clothes strewn across the floor, a mattress in the middle of the floor of the living room, and dirty dishes filled the kitchen sink. The wallpaper looked a bit too old and the newer painted rooms were chipping. It somehow felt somewhat homey to Max. It was a weird feeling: a mix of terror and comfort.

"So, where you from?" Jackson broke the silence.

"I-uh..." Max started, "I live down the street, actually.

"Really? So we went to school together?"

"Yeah...went..." he mumbled.

"So you wanna get down to business?"