⋆｡˚ MAX MAYFIELD PULLED INTO THE LONG GRAVEL DRIVEWAY LEADING UP TO THE HUGE WOODEN HOUSE, PUTTING HER CAR INTO PARK. She turned off the engine, pulling a strand of hair out of her eyes as she looked over at her dark-haired companion in the passenger seat.
Mike was checking his eyes in the mirror of her car -- not too red, although he definitely couldn't judge his pupil sizes from how they had looked this morning -- and as he felt her stare he flipped it upwards.
"Ready?" He asked.
Max shrugged. "A little nervous, meeting a group of. . ." She faltered.
Mike raised his eyebrows. "Drug dealers."
She blushed slightly, before nodding. "Well, yeah."
In response, he opened the car door, grabbing his duffel bag from his feet below. He leaned towards her, his dark eyes meeting her own. "Trust me, Mayfield. If there's any of these guys that you had to have met, just be pretty glad that it was me."
He didn't say anything more; just let her figure out the rest of his explanation from the sentence alone as he finally stepped out of the car, his lean body exiting the car as he ducked out.
Max put her keys into her purse, turning and grabbing the bottle of pills resting in her glove compartment. She dropped the bottle into her purse, zipping it tightly up as she closed the car door behind her, clicking her keys until she heard the beep of her lock.
She followed Mike's lead, keeping pace with him as he lead her into the hugely built house, closing the door behind them as they entered the foyer.
"Okay, so usually everyone is in the dining room," Mike told her, hoisting his bag more highly up on his shoulder. "That's where we all meet to talk about shit and stuff."
Max raised her eyebrows. "Where you talk about your money, your supplies, your own stock of whatever drugs you all are addicted too -- yeah, that stuff."
Mike laughed slightly, jerking his head to get her to follow him as he lead her throughout the house. "Alright, shit. You know more than I thought you did."
Max didn't mention she had Googled bullshit for an hour during study hall. Instead, she nodded to the black duffel bag by his side. "Saw you pick that up after third period. And fifth. And then after school. Obviously there's a business in there."
She watched as something in Mike's face changed. They reached the kitchen, and he slowed slightly, hitching the bag higher up on his shoulder.
"Almost clever enough," He said smoothly, crossing the tiled floor towards the door to the dining room. "Business is in my backpack, and my locker. My shit's in here."
Max looked at him sharply, but he didn't go into any further detail. Instead, he went and took the seat near the head of the table. Max followed him, her red hair falling across her face as she finally looked up and took in who the fuck else was in the room with her.
"Holy shit," A voice said from the head of the table, and Max looked up, meeting a blonde boy's strikingly blue eyes. "Wheeler actually brought Max Mayfield to our fucking shit show."
Max shook her head, laughing slightly. "Talked me into it."
Xan flipped his blonde hair out of his eyes, his gaze roaming over the girl's. "Xan Elliot."
Max barked out a real laugh this time. "You're kidding. Like--"
"Xans, the drug, yeah," Xan rolled his eyes, sitting back his chair. "Wheeler christened me that a long time ago, thanks very much. Full name's Xander, but who the fuck wants to use that, huh?"
"Maxine," Max made a face, replying with her own fancy first name. "Shitty."
Xan tilted his head. "Nah, not shitty. Pretty as fuck."
Mike's head whipped up, his entire body turning to stone. His attention was fully on the blonde asshole sitting inches from where Max was, her cheeks turning a slight pink at his words.
Acid rose in Mike's throat. For a single second, Xan's gaze met his own, and he could see the glimmer of "What, fucker?" shining there, taunting.
"Anyway," Xan went on, acting like Mike didn't even exist, although the boy's stare never left the side of his face. "Max, you know Mike. But this is Troy, Cole, Blake, and Alex. Everyone, this is our new member so you know exactly what it's fucking like to be in her position. Treat her like you treated everybody else."
He sat back in his seat. "And, because she's here, it also means she has a problem."
He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the wooden table. "And we have solutions to problems."
Without another word, he got to his feet, motioning for Max to stand. "Follow me, Max -- and let me introduce you to fuckin' paradise."
He shot her a grin, and before they could leave, Mike was right behind her. He kept pace with Max's movements, stopping only when Xan turned to look at him.
"What're you doing here, Wheeler?" He asked lazily.
Mike squinted, and said good-naturedly, "I brought her here, Xan. Why can't I come?" His stare was locked on his friend's. "Is that a problem or something?"
Max looked up at Xan. "He can come, right?"
Xan tore his gaze from Mike as she spoke. Max continued nervously, shrugging. "I mean, we're -- we're friends."
There was a short silence, before another smirk crossed Xan's features. "Why not?"
With those two words, he had turned and kept going in the same direction he had began. Mike made sure his duffel was zipped before following after, giving Max a nod of reassurance when she looked as they continued on throughout the house.
Mike knew where they were headed, but Max was mesmerized as they passed room after room. Xan's place was twice as big as her's, and as they started up the stairs, she looked around in wonderment at the pool glimmering slightly in the backyard.
Xan nodded to it as they reached the top, turning left down the hallway. "Gonna have a pool party in a few weeks to celebrate end of summer. Business will skyrocket, then."
Mike resisted the urge to drop a nasty comment about the last party, which ended with Xan vomiting over the toilet bowl after too big of a dose of heroin on top of the massive amount of tequila he had consumed.
The remembrance of Mike breaking his ankle after taking 80mg of oxys and then puking all over the side of Xan's fence was enough to keep his mouth shut.
They had finally reached the double doors at the end of the hallway, and Xan turned the knob, pushing them open to reveal a lounge. Food sat stretched along a table, and a bar sat in a corner, whiskey, bourbon, and rum all laid out from the last time the boys had drank.
Xan closed the door, motioning to the couch next to the fireplace that faced the coffee table, taking a in the loveseat opposite it. He grabbed the bottle of Jack Daniel's whiskey beside him, pouring three glasses and a shot.
He distributed the glasses, and while he screwed the cap back on, Mike shot Max a look, an order clearly written on his face: Do not fucking drink while you are on this goddamn Oxy.
Xan turned back towards them, and Mike looked away, taking a long swig of his own whiskey to change the slight tension in the room. Xan's attention was directed towards him.
"Shit, Wheeler, knock it back," He chuckled, downing half of his own glass like it was nothing. He wiped his upper lip, a strand of blonde hair resting absently on his forehead. "Fail Rogers' exam today, huh?"
Mike took another drink, trying to ignore the burn and instead sat back against one of the pillows behind him. Xan was trying to punish him for following them in there, but no way was he about to stay behind and let Xan coax her into taking three pills instead of one.
"Not if I cheated," He said back, putting his glass back down on the table. "Which I was smart enough to do."
Xan nodded, as if this was some sort of insane power move. "Nice one." He drained the rest of his glass, uncapping the bottle again and refilling it with the amber liquid before taking another drink. "I got a 93."
He shot Mike a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Smart without the extra help, right?"
Mike ground his teeth together so hard he felt his jaw would snap. Whether Xan was doing this just to fuck with him or for Max's benefit, it was low. Xan had known how to push his buttons ever since they had met, and for some reason, Mike was never able to mirror the same vicious edge that Xan had to his retorts.
He saw that Xan had already moved on, his attention now on Max. "You're smart, huh?"
The girl slowly shook her head. "Jane's the smart one. She's been helping me pass classes but lately I've just been so stressed about cheer and stuff at home that I haven't had the chance to hangout with her."
Max sighed, chewing on her lower lip. "I'm off the team if I don't get my grades up by the end of first semester, and-"
Xan held a hand up to stop her, instead interrupting her slightly hysterical speech to say one sentence: "Where are the pills Mike gave you, angel?"
Her cheeks went rosy at his last words, but she unzipped her purse, digging around inside. Xan took the opportunity to shoot Mike a nasty grin, who met it with a hot gaze of fury brewing behind his eyes.
Max produced the bottle, putting it on the coffee table. Xan picked it up, unscrewing the cap and taking a pill out, placing it on the small silver plate resting on the surface. There was a second where they all just looked at it, before Xan slid a glass across the table towards her.
"It's like tylenol," He told her, leaning back in the loveseat lazily. "Just pop it in and swig it down with-"
Mike interrupted him. "Where's her water, Xan?"
Xan had stopped his spiel, and turned to look at Mike, his eyes flashing. "Water?"
The shot glass was sitting across from Max, the brown liquid sparkling in the lights above.
"Yeah," Max's voice had a dangerous edge. "Water."
He gave a simpery chuckle, looking over at Max. "Oh, Wheeler, she's a big girl. She can handle a shot of whiskey."
He raised his eyebrows, taking another drink of own glass. "Can't you, princess?"
"Not on fucking oxycodone!" Mike said sharply, rising to his feet before Max had a chance to answer. "And you know that shit, Xan, so don't--"
"Mike," Max's voice sounded from where she sat.
Mike looked at her desperately, his face clearly begging her to not drink. She looked away from him, shrugging her shoulders as Xan caught her eye.
"It's just one shot, Mike," She said nonchalantly, acting as if this was no big deal.
He shook his head slightly. "Max-"
"Sit the fuck down, Wheeler," Xan said loudly, interrupting as though he was bored. He nodded towards the couch. "You a pussy or what?"
Mike didn't answer, his hands tightly curling into closed fists as he sank back down. He moodily glared at Xan, not fucking enjoying the display of hierarchy that Xan so loved to show off.
Without so much as another glance in his direction, Max instead focused directly on Xan as she reached for the pill and placed it on her tongue. She took the shot without so much as a twinge in her facial features, downing the entire glass.
It burned. The pill felt weird on top of the whiskey, but she swallowed. She sat down her empty glass, leaning backwards in her seat as the rest of the pill went with the burning liquid.
She didn't dare look at the expression on Mike's face, although she could feel his eyes on her. Instead, she tossed her red hair over her shoulder, and struck her best winning "cheerleader" smile for the blonde, lanky boy sitting slouched feet from her.
"So, when does the action start?" She said, reaching forward and taking the full glass of whiskey that Xan had filled for her. Mike's eyes followed her hand as she sat it back down, his body tensing up.
Xan shrugged. "Bout fifteen minutes, or so, wouldn't you say Wheeler?"
Mike glanced up at him, his attention being brought away again. "Yeah, about fifteen. Took less time for you though, I remember."
Xan's smile had no emotion. "Bet you remember falling on your face trying to get out the back door too, huh?"
Mike's answer hadn't been a jab, and yet Xan had still taken any way possible to dumb his ass down. Whether it was because Max was there or not, it still made Mike feel as though he was going to snap.
He merely rolled his eyes. "Yeah, bourbon and oxys will do that to you, Xan. It's Drugs 101."
Max snorted beside him, and Xan's eyes flashed. Mike ignored him, taking in Max's demeanor, which was already becoming more relaxed by the second.
He caught Xan's eye, a slight smile resting on his face as he saw a glimmer of his old best friend peeking through his hard exterior. "Hey -- we gotta flyer."
A real grin curled the edge of Xan's mouth, and he took another drink of his glass, draining the second one. "Flyer" was the group's name for a person that tried drugs, and automatically looked the part of someone who did them. The attitude, the way they acted -- it was like a pull to them. A "buzz" was someone who didn't do it for them, like a buzzkill. Killed the entire vibe, tripped out, or took advantage and ruined it for everyone. Those were the people they usually kicked to the curb -- and a lot of the ones they sold too.
There were the "partiers", who were obviously the ones who did drugs for fun. Weren't addicted, but were also maybe a little too into them. After that, they had the "heads" -- People that had been doing drugs forever, who got it, who were addicted but were able to manage it. Xan was a head. Mike liked to joke he was a bit of a "crackhead", because Xan was what the group called on the edge of psycho.
The whole thing was a joke, of course -- until it wasn't.
And then, there was the last category. The one you didn't really want to get to the bottom of, or even really be a part of, because it was a fucking dumpster fire of bad endings, back and forth withdrawals, and just a whole bunch of shit. And that was the category for junkies, which was where Mike spent his time residing in and out of when he could.
It was why he hated the term so much. He knew the rest of the group categorized him there, and he definitely knew Xan did. He could see it in his eyes, and every time he did, he wanted to smash his stupid fucking skull in.
Like he chose this life.
Max, on the other hand, had finally felt something shift in her mind. Everything heavy that had been seemed to been weighing on her when she had walked into this room -- even her nervousness -- had all seemed to float away as the seconds ticked on. Or were they hours? Days?
She didn't know, and shit, she didn't really care. She could barely taste the whiskey in front of her, only that it made her feel good and warm all over. Her skin prickled as she reached for the glass, her fingers sliding over the cold edges as she gulped the rest of it down. It burned as it slid down her throat once more, but Max found she damn near couldn't even feel it.
She sat the glass back down, and slowly realized that Xan was speaking to her, although it sounded as though he was underwater. It was as if as soon as she thought it, she was able to hear perfectly clear again.
He tilted his head at her, as though he could understand her thoughts and feelings perfectly. And maybe he could. "More whiskey?"
Max nodded. "Please."
Mike snapped back to life. As Xan reached for her glass, Mike moved it out of his direction, staring at his best friend hard.
"I think she's had enough," He said suddenly, his hand blocking the glass from the bottle's reach.
"Mike!" Max said, scowling. He almost did a double take at the edge to her tone, but instead kept his grip on the glass as he instead tried to talk to her, seeing the two pink spots that had risen on her cheeks.
"Max, you just took an oxy," He tried to speak slowly, in a way he knew he would want to be spoken too if he was still in this situation. "I know you think you want liquor and shit, but trust me, it's not a good--"
"Ohhh," Xan's voice rang out, the interruption being done by him this time. In the time that Mike had been speaking to Max, he had already gotten her a new glass, pouring it nearly to the brim with the bottle.
He refilled his own glass for the third time, taking a long drink before finally looking at Mike again. "I see. Mike's a dictator or some shit now. He thinks he can tell you what to do."
Mike held back every nerve in his body from moving around the table and punching Xan in the face. "You know that's not what I mean, Elliot."
He slid the glass across the table from Max, and used the opportunity to move away from Mike, taking it and gulping some down.
Xan focused his gaze on Mike. "Then let her drink."
Mike wanted to rip the glass from Max's hands, but didn't dare in front of Xan. He noticed the boy's hand had flitted down to his inside jacket pocket, and contained the slight shiver that traveled through his body as he saw the movement.
Xan kept a knife with a six-inch blade in there, and the last time Mike had made him mad enough to pull it out as a threat was not a pretty experience. The scar on his abdomen was from that time, and after it Xan had left Mike in a ditch while he was on the peak of his withdrawal.
Mike didn't want to have anything close to that happen while Max was in the room.
Instead, he got to his feet, and jerked his head in the direction of the door. "Let me talk to you. Five minutes."
He didn't wait for Xan to answer, instead heading out the double doors and slamming them behind him. It was a couple of seconds before Xan finally did the same, swirling his glass of whiskey as he pulled the door closed behind him.
"What the fuck are you trying to do in there?" Mike hissed. "Get her so fucked up that she--"
"That she what?" Xan asked. "Has a good time? Wants to come back for more?"
Mike leaned closer, practically spitting, "Whiskey and oxys?"
Xan grinned. "Don't tell me you're a pussy now. Scared of some alc and pills, junkie?"
The words stung. Mike hissed, "Don't fucking call me that. Do you see me tweaking out in front of her?"
"Nah," Xan was still smiling, taking tiny sips of his drink like this was the most casual conversation he had ever had. "But I imagine it's not long till you will be."
He nodded to the doors. "Besides, I haven't seen you without the duffel I gave you this morning. That kind of gives me a clue."
Mike was already nodding, an angry thumping ringing in his ears. "Oh yeah? So what gives you the authority to know all of this shit, Xan? Is it because you're a god who rules over the rest of us or fucking what?"
Xan had finished his third glass, and his eyes were bloodshot as he his smirk widened into a grin. "No god, Wheeler, although I'm honored my friends give me the best treatment when I'm not around."
He leaned against the doors. "You brought me out here to talk. And in those five minutes, you left Max Mayfield, a girl who took an opioid for her first time, alone with two full glasses."
Max's face slackened in horror. He started forward, beginning to push Xan aside before the boy shoved him backwards with such a force that Max crashed into the foyer table, sending glass figurines flying and shattering.
He gasped with effort as he pulled himself up, and Xan shook his head, finally putting his glass down on the mantel next to him.
"The fucking glasses are still full?" Mike snarled, poison dripping from his words. "Are you fucking crazy? She's off opioids, you dumb fuck, she'll drink both of them!"
Xan was grinning now, pity in his eyes as he simply looked at Mike like he was no more than an annoyance. "Oh I know, Wheeler. That's why I didn't just leave the full glasses. I mean, how dumb do you think I am?"
As his words registered, Xan's drunken body leaned against the mantel without a care in the world, as though the whole thing was one game.
"I left the whole fucking bottle, junkie."
⋆࿐໋₊ ♡·˚ ₊ author's note!
hi, happy update season!! someone said i should update more on my latest chapter, and inspiration hit, so i figured i would try to make it up to you all by writing this one! this chapter is very important to me because not only is it it longest so far, it also really gives you an idea of what the dynamic truly is like when in xan's prescense for anything -- whether it is business related, or not. i really hope it gave you all this feeling too!! ♡ ♡
thank you guys so much as always for all your continued comments, votes, and support! it really keeps me going and pushes me to update more. so glad you guys are still here, i love you! ｡:✦・ﾟ
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━━━ TW: addiction, heroin use, violence, etc
━━━ WC: 3788
━━━ DP: 02.26.22