The Usual... A Max Schneider Fan Fiction

Chapter Thirty-Six: Slipping

*Trigger Warning. Tread Lightly, Loves*

~ When I close my eyes and try to sleep, I fall apart; I find it hard I breathe... ~

Chapter Thirty-Six: Slipping

Last time I put a parent in the ground, I never imagined I'd put the other one in only seven-and-a-half years later. But there I was, watching my father being lowered into the ground, right next to my mother.

The funeral was small and private; just close friends of my father, a few people who knew my mother while she was alive, and us four: me, Max, Sophie, and Lucas.

Max stood and held me as I turned into his chest, unable to watch. The service was lovely, as funeral services go, but Dad wouldn't have particularly cared for it, but Dad didn't like funerals at all. He thought they were too sad and cliche.

Every one was gone but the four of us. Lucas and Sophie were in the grass a few feet away, watching the casket find its place in the ground while Max kept me hidden. I was crying silent tears, trembling softly in his embrace as I felt my strong fronts begin to crumble. Max slowly slid out of his blazer, laying it across my shoulders as his hands ran up and down my arms. "C'mon," Max whispered, kissing my hair. "The longer we stay, the harder you'll break."

I didn't say anything, letting him lead me softly away from where the casket was being covered in dirt. Sophie and Lucas followed us quietly, my best friend slowly crumbling into himself as Sophie took his arm, comfortingly. We got into our cars and began heading for home, all of us emotionally exhausted.

"For what it's worth," Max whispered, taking my hand in the car and kissing my fingers. "You looked beautiful today."

I didn't say much for a moment, before murmuring a soft thank you and letting myself cry. Max pulled over on the side of the road, pulling me gently into the backseat with him and holding me closely. "Let it all go, lovely," he whispered softly. "Give yourself the freedom to cry."

I'd been worse about that lately. I haven't allowed myself the ability to let myself go when I got worked up, and rather I'd just bit it back down. Max begged me the other night to just let myself cry while he held me, but I'd refused, telling him I was fine. His response was blatant and pleading and consisted of one word: "Bullshit," he'd said, before pausing and sighing. "You and I both know that's bullshit."

This was the first time I'd allowed myself to cry in almost four days. The funeral plans had taken longer than I'd thought, and the process was painful, but I'd been trying so hard to be strong. Max was broken-hearted for me, and I'd actually, in all my frustration and pent up emotions, had tried to pick fights with him once or twice. He didn't let me get to him though, and as soon as I'd realized what I'd done I'd apologized and told him I love him and kissed him quietly. He was so patient with me, and I didn't deserve a damned bit of it.

"I'm sorry," I whispered brokenly, curling into him. Max shook his head, holding me tightly in the backseat,

"It's fine, baby," he assured me, his lips against my forehead. "You're okay. I'm just glad you're finally letting it out."

I sobbed softly. "It hurts," I admitted quietly. "Everything hurts."

Max nuzzled me into his chest. "I know, lovely."

I felt like a small child, whining softly. "I want it to stop," I begged. "I'm always either in pain, sorrow, or I'm numb, and quite frankly I don't even know which one is fucking worse."

Max didn't say anything, letting me spill out my emotions without a filter. "I'm putting stress on everyone around me, and I hate it. You've worried yourself sick over me, and I don't make it any easier on you by being difficult. I've been picking stupid fights with you for no damned reason and I wish this would all just fucking stop-"