Seven

Just the two of us

Max gently tapped the microphone attached to his ear. "The story you are about to see isn't flowery. It's not a flowery story full of flowery words to describe flowery events. No, this is a real story full of real words to describe real things."

He took a deep breath. "This story isn't pretty. It's chock-full of tears, heartbreak, and foul language. But it's important to me, and it's important to Pres. So... Enjoy."

Preston started reciting lines to Shakespeare's Hamlet as Max pushed a tree prop onto stage. He sat next to it, taking another breath, before he started crying. He gently pulled on his hair, just enough to show that he was doing it, but not enough to hurt. He heard Preston stop, using that as a sign to start hitting.

This was all rehearsed, having showed him how to act out the movements convincingly enough that he didn't have to do it.

"Max, what the hell are you doing?" Preston asked, having come from the back so he wouldn't face away from the audience.

Max bolted up. "Shit, Preston, what are you doing here?"

"I'm not heartless you know- I heard you crying from the amphitheater. Now, I ask again, what the hell were you doing?"

Max was silent for a beat. "There are voices in my head that won't shut up. I was coping." He let out a sob.

Preston held him to his chest for a few seconds as he fake-cried. "I have a book that you can use to write this out. Promise you'll try?"

"Promise," Max said.

Preston and Max split to take the platform and tree off of the stage, coming together after Preston rolled a cot onto the middle of the stage. Max sat on it as Preston shoved another shirt into a rolling suitcase.

"So, you're leaving, huh?" Max said quietly (But loud enough for the audience in the back.)

"Yeah." Preston replied.

"Missouri is a long way from Michigan," He stated, pulling his phone from his pocket. Preston looked at Max, gently taking the phone to put his number in (Or, rather, to pretend. Preston's contact in Max's phone was 'Pres' with a bunch of hearts and sparkles.)

Max followed Preston to the edge of the curtain on stage left. They looked at each other. "Take a picture with me?" Max suggested lightly, holding up his phone.

Preston smiled. "Sure." Max held up the phone in the standard selfie position, Preston turning Max's head last minute to kiss him. An explosion of aww's and gasps erupted from the audience.

Preston exited the stage. Max sat on the cot, putting the phone down and staring at it. Then, he spoke directly to the audience. "He never called me. I tried. But I sat here, waiting for seven goddamn years for a call from him, wondering what the hell I did wrong."

He waited a few beats, still staring at the phone. Then he got up, tucking the phone in his pocket and rolling the cot off of the stage. Preston reentered stage left, taking off his Camp Cambell shirt to reveal a loose black shirt under. Max quickly tugged a beanie over his hair, pinning his hoodie up to it's usual length nowadays.

Preston held his phone up to his ear, chattering away about something random, walking towards the center of the stage. Max waled with his head down, until they met in the middle, bumping into each other. Max quickly looked up to who he bumped into. "Shit- Preston?"

"Max?" Preston said at the same time. "What are you doing here?"

Max looked to the side, away from Preston's gaze. "I'm getting a stupid education," He said quietly.

"In?"

"Creative Writing. On a scholarship."

Preston's eyes widened. "Well," He said stiffly. "Good luck."

They both went to opposite sides of the stage, Max dragging out the cot again. He sat on it, waiting for Preston to come back onstage.

"Goddammit," Preston said, dropping his duffel bag with a thunk.

Max's head moved to the sound of Preston's voice. "Sorry I'm such a disappointment." He spat.

Preston rolled his eyes, exiting the stage once more. Max exited the other side, waiting and watching as Preston, who rushed back onstage and sat on the bed. "Not again," he said. "I'm not gonna let him slip through my fingers again." He waited for a few seconds, before nodding off. Max went around backstage in order to get to stage left, before entering quietly. He grabbed a blanket from the duffel, gently laying it over Preston, who woke up with a gasp.

"Max- Max, we need to talk." He mumbled, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"You're tired. Later," He said quietly.

Preston stood, albeit awkwardly. "No- If we don't talk now, it'll never happen. We'll ignore it. Just like I ignored you for seven fucking years."

"Pres-"

"Don't 'Preston' me!" He yelled. "It's not okay! I left you wondering for years what you did wrong when it wasn't you."

He grabbed Max's cheeks and pulled him into a kiss, which Max returned.

"It's not okay," Max said when they parted. "But I never stopped loving you, Pres. And I'll follow you to the end of the damn earth if you asked."

At that, they moved to face the audience, grabbed each other's hand, raised it in the air. then bowed. The crowd erupted in applause. They smiled at each other, pressing another kiss to the other's lips, before walking off the stage.