paris | madwheeler ♡

6 | depression

this is shorter, i'm sorry i have really bad writers block!

" je pense que j'aime."

he kissed her, like before. only, it was some how different. different in a way, that she couldn't exactly place at first. but this one was different. after laying there for hours, he began to leave butterfly kisses on her shoulder, back, and neck.

friends. they're trying to be friends. right?

it was familiar kisses, sure. hes kissed her like such beforehand. but these were slow, more comforting.

before they were fast and heated, but this time it was a more delicate kisses. ones that spell out 'i care about you'. rather than 'i wanna fuck the shit out of you' no, it wasn't like that this time. but honestly, did she really mind in the moment?

his hand rested on her waist, holding her close to him.

"mike." she breathed out, trying her best not to make too much noise. with his lips against her neck, she bit hard on her bottom lip to keep from speaking her enjoyment.

he didn't know why her saying his name like that, it made him slighly amorous at her voice. he could feel the blood in his body rushing south, almost rolling his eyes in annoynece knowing, it wont go away until he can make it go away.

"hm?" he asked, being cautious.

"i.." she said quietly. which, he carefully rested his mouth against her neck. "i should go. ill talk to you later." max said, pulling herself out of mike's arms and leaving his warmth behind.

she went straight into her room, rolling herself on her bed, sighing. she craved how he touched her before. she didn't know why, she felt awful after. but she wanted him, badly. badly enough to get right back up and lock the bedroom door.

she leaned back onto her bed, a pillow rested underneath her head. her comforter was over her, but it was pretty clear what she was doing. her knees were bent, and the end of her dress sat on her stomach.

mike had the same idea. his hand moved up and down himself, while his head leaned back in enjoyment. he hadn't done this is so long, due to always having a girlfriend to fuck around with when horny. max couldn't relate, but she never touched herself that often. not like this. but again, she wasnt exactly pure. she was a reckless child with no manners.

reasons why most people were afraid of her, they were intimidated. there had been so many rumors that she was a hardcore druggy. snorting cocaine in the school bathrooms. slipping vodka into her waterbottle in public places. and maybe even hooking up with random boys for money behind the theater stage. a virgin being slut shamed for breathing, was really the issue. but its just how their high school was. there was no way of trying to fix the rumors now.

sure, maxine had a small addiction to cigarettes, but that was pretty much it. she had smoked weed before but the stoner life style wasnt for her, it made her paranoid when she was alone.

she breathed out, making quiet whimpers that she prayed mike wouldn't hear from the room next to hers, but what she didnt know. was mike was too busy breathing heavily himself.

believe it or not max finished first. immediately feeling tired. mike finished not too long after. he whipped the sweat off his nose and got up to change into more comfortable shorts.

some say max sleeps too much. or not enough. she always looks like a zombie at school, because she didnt care to give effort in her appearance. she lost interest when she was young. she wouldn't ever say it out loud but she thinks she's depressed. people treated her badly and she never reacted well, she pertended she didnt care. but she does. considering the many times she cried herself to sleep about a rumor or a lie.

mike never had to worry about things like this. sure, he was dorky but, he wasnt a complete loser after middle school when his social group became more accepting.

max fell asleep. while mike stared at his wall wondering what she was doing but being too much of a coward to ask, or go check on her.

"je pense que j'aime max." he whispered so quietly, he could barely hear himself.