The Writer | #4✓

Chapter 17

I was adding comments to the Microsoft Word document a classmate had sent to me for peer-reviewing. It was Wednesday, and I was sitting next to him in our creating writing class as usual. Sometimes I would pause what I was doing to look over at Maxwell. A smile would often find its way to my lips as I observed him. He was just nice to look at, okay?

"Are you just going to keep staring at me?" The sound of Maxwell's voice made me blink a bit, and I blushed at the realization that I had been caught staring. Maxwell chuckled, bopping my nose with the tip of his pointing finger before turning his attention back to the word document on the screen of his laptop. "I don't mind, it's just kind of distracting."

"Yeah, sorry," I muttered before looking back at the work I was supposed to be reviewing. Maxwell had a different partner as well, but we had both opted to sit together and just peer review the documents and send them detailed feedback via email.

When I was done reviewing my partner's work I sent them the reviewed document via email, and just looked about the class. We still had about twenty minutes to the end of the class. Most people were still working on their reviews, and our lecturer was working at her desk. I clicked my tongue, turning to Maxwell again. I looked at his screen, smiling when I realized that he was no longer working on the peer review and was probably done.

"Are you done reviewing your partner's work?" I heard him ask as he paused surfing the internet to look over at me. His smile made me smile too.

"Yeah," I answered, adjusting in my seat in a way that my thigh brushed with his. Maxwell looked down at our legs with a smile soon on his face. He then looked up at me, grinning with his teeth on full display.

"You're so touchy these days. It's great," he whispered, his voice was just high enough for me to hear. "I love it, maybe a little too much."

I chuckled a bit, stopping myself by covering my mouth so that I didn't disturb the class. The only noise in the lecture hall was typing and the occasional murmur between partners. Maxwell adjusted on his seat as well, and he was soon facing me in a way.

"Have you spoken to your father?" I asked him, remembering bout what we talked about a few weeks ago. Maxwell's face fell as he made to look away, avoiding my gaze. My facial features twisted with worry at his reaction. Has he spoken to him yet? I wondered, letting my fingers play with the rope of my sweater.

Sometime in the past few weeks, I had introduced Maxwell to my parents through face time. They had immediately taken a liking to him and had recognized him from my high school's orchestra. The video call had only gotten awkward when my parents had asked about his father, and if they would be able to meet him. Maxwell had dodged the question, but after the call, I had asked him about it. He told me his father didn't know that he was into both men and women, but he promised me that he would find the time to tell his dad since he was seriously dating me now.

"No," Maxwell muttered with a small voice.

"I sighed, pushing my bangs back with my fingers. "Well, when are you going to tell him? It's been a few weeks since you told me you would."

"I don't Know Xander." My eyes widened in surprise. His voice was both shaky and firm, and he suddenly looked nervous. "I don't know," he repeated, sighing before he turned on his seat to face his computer.

I didn't bother him after that and turned away from him as well. I spent the remaining minutes in class overthinking things and writing rubbish in a word document. When the lecture period was officially over I had gotten up from my seat, and Maxwell had done the same, following me out of the class. We walked side by side for a while, not saying anything to each other. Maxwell eventually broke the silence when we got out of the building and into the cool weather.

"Xanny," he started, making me turn to him as we kept walking. I watched as his eyes clouded with an emotion I couldn't describe. He let out a sigh, running his hand through his hair. "I'm scared. I'm not sure how I'll tell my dad."

I didn't know what to do so I just reached out for his hand, he looked over at our joined hands when I gave his hand a squeeze. He smiled a bit, looking away. "I don't know, your parents are well, your parents and they love you no matter what. My dad, is well, my dad. I don't know, he's confusing," he said, making me squeeze his hand again as we trekked on the concrete pavement. The sound of our feet stepping on the ground filled the void of silence Maxwell had left with his last words.

"I'm already scared of my dad. I don't know..." he trailed. "We don't talk much, and when we do it's about school, so I don't know how he'll take it—"

"Take a deep breath, Max," I said, cutting Maxwell off. He blinked before doing what I had asked him to. It seemed like he hadn't even realized he had been on the verge of what seemed like a panic attack.

"Don't worry about it. I'm sorry I asked. You can stop trying to explain yourself," I said, squeezing his hand in comfort.

"I'll tell him—"

"You don't have to if it's not safe for you, or if you don't feel comfortable. I understand," I said, cutting him short again, squeezing his hand one more time. He kept quiet after that, and just let me hold on to his hand as we approached our residential building. It was late noon, and some people were just heading out for their first class. When we got into the building we headed to the elevator. Once inside Maxwell reached out for my hand again, making me turn to him with a brow raised in question.

"Please follow me up to my room," he said in a low voice. I stared at him and noticed he was shaking a bit, so I nodded I response, and he pulled me into a hug. He hugged me from behind, resting his head on my shoulder, and when the elevator stopped at my floor I didn't walk out. When the lift got to Maxwell's floor he let go of me before taking my hand and pulling me out into the lobby and then into the hallway that led to his bedroom.

I watched him fish for his keys in the pockets of his jeans, and when he opened the door he pulled me into his room by my arm. I had gotten used to being in Maxwell's room. The walls filled with checklists, the instruments at the side, and his neatly laid bed were all familiar to me now. I watched as Maxwell took off his sweater and jeans before heading to his head and lying down. I rose a brow, wondering what he was doing.

"Can you take a nap with me?" he asked as I looked at him. He was still shaking, and even though I wasn't quite sure about what was going on — what was happening to him, I took off my jacket and jeans before joining him on the bed. He hugged me, and I hugged him back as he buried his face in my neck. His red curls were tickling my neck, but I didn't care much. I just hoped that he was feeling better. The way he was shaking was making me worried.

"Thanks," he muttered.

"Can you pat my head?" he then asked, and I reached out to run my fingers through his hair before giving his head small pats.

"Is this weird?" he asked.

"It's okay Max," I said, hearing him sigh as he tightened his grip on me.

"Thank you," he said. His voice had been so small that I had almost not heard it. I just held on to him as time passed by, and soon he stopped shaking and just slept off. I stayed with him until early in the evening before slipping out of his bed. He reached out and grabbed the closest thing to him, which was a pillow. The frown that had formed on his face when I had gotten up left his face, and he gripped on to the pillow like he had gripped to me. I mouthed a thank goodness when he seemed to calm down and return to sleeping peacefully.

A sigh left my lips as I stared at him, wondering what this was all about. I bit my bottom lip, wondering if I should join him on the bed again before shaking my head. I had some assignments due this night that I had to finish. I wore my trousers again before picked up my bag and coat. I looked for some paper and a pen on Maxwell's desk before writing him a short note and leaving it there.

It took a while of me debating with myself before I decided to finally leave the room. I took the elevator down to my floor and tried not to worry too much about Maxwell's behavior. I had only seen him act so odd and conflicted on time — when we were alone in a lecture hall in the music building, and that had nothing to do with him coming out.

Or maybe they were connected in some way?

I didn't know.