Changed

His Mistake

Sorry that this took so long and happy Maksyling!

“Where have the times gone? Baby it’s all wrong.” - Maroon 5, Payphone

 Meryl made her way across the nearly empty parking lot towards her car, letting out a sigh - though of relief or disappointment she could not tell. On one hand, he hadn’t brought up what had ensued between them two nights ago - or anything that had ever transpired between them - but…

 “Meryl, wait!” A voice called out, jolting her from her thoughts. It was a voice she knew all too well. She turned towards the source, mentally cursing her increasing heartbeat and the adrenaline that coursed through her veins at the sound of his voice.

 “Yeah?” It was the first time today that her tone hadn’t been carefully guarded and she thought she saw the slightest flicker in his eyes.

 “Can I borrow your phone? I - “ she handed it to him, cutting him off mid-sentence. “Thanks,” he murmured.

 She watched as he clicked it on… and froze, his eyes anchored to her lockscreen, an expression of bewilderment, pain, and then understanding flitting across his face. He handed the phone back to her wordlessly, before wandering back to the studio, his face dazed as if in a dream, his gaze sharp with hurt.

 --

 For the first time that day, Maks felt something. And it hurt like hell.

 He had gotten into his car after rehearsals, intending to drive home and try to forget about her. The whole plan had flown out the window the instant he turned the keys in the ignition. The engine had shakily started, spluttered, then stopped. On any other day, this wouldn’t have been a problem; he would’ve just called Val and asked for a ride home. Unfortunately, his phone was at his house, the screen cracked beyond repair, virtually useless. A quick scour of the parking lot revealed what he had been dreading; she was the only person there.

 “Meryl, wait!” He was out of the car in a second, jogging towards her, ignoring the sinking feeling in his stomach.

 “Yeah?” She turned to face him.

 “Can I borrow your phone?” he asked. “I - “

 She handed it over wordlessly.

 He could feel her eyes on him as he turned it on… and stiffened at the sight of the lockscreen. Because, there, right in front of him, was a baby, her baby. And, suddenly, he knew that he had read her wrong, that she wasn’t just heartbroken, that she had moved on. He realized that she had found someone else, started her own family, and - most painfully - she didn’t need him anymore.

 He passed the phone back wordlessly, turning away, trying to hide the tears that swam in his eyes. He rambled aimlessly back to the studio, teeth clenched to keep from crying.

 --

 “Bro?” It was Val. Maks struggled to wipe the tears from his face before looking up. “Are you okay?”

No. “Yeah,” he forced out, wincing at the shakiness of his voice.

 “That was a rhetorical question, you’re obviously not. Do you want to talk about it?”

 Maks shook his head, once again looking downwards. Val was wearing black converse high tops. He found the simplicity in this observation comforting until he realized: that’s what I was wearing during my swing dance with her, and tears again pricked his eyes.

 “Maks?” His brother’s voice was filled with concern.

 “Hmm?”

 “Do you wanna, you know, get out of the storage closet?”

 Honestly thinking, staying seemed like the better option. But he was the older brother; he was supposed to be strong, he was supposed to be there for Val. So he fought the urge of every muscle in his body and rose from where he was curled up on the ground.

 “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Val asked, pulling Maks into a hug.

 Yes. “No,” he squeezed back, needing the comfort of the embrace more than he cared to admit.

 “Good.” By some silent agreement, neither brother spoke another word as Val lead Maks to his car, helped him in, and drove home.

 --

 “Bro, I hate to bug you when you’re obviously upset but you need to eat something,” Val fretted.

 “I’m not hungry,” Maks called through his locked bedroom door.

 “Please, for me?”

 Val heard a movement from inside the room, then the lock clicked and Maks was standing there, looking like he’d just been through both a hurricane and heartbreak - the latter of which was probably the case.

 “Here,” Val held out the bowl of warm broth that he had brought upstairs with him.

 When Maks made a move to close the door, he stuck out his foot. “Eat it in front of me,” he commanded.

 His brother sighed, sat down on his bed, and proceeded to slurp down the broth with exaggerated motions, making his actions extra clear to Val - who was watching from the doorway.

 Maks set the bowl aside when he was finished. Val took the motion as his cue to step inside - ignoring the messy state of the room which looked, if possible, worse than Maks himself - and take the dish away, noting with a slight satisfaction that its contents had disappeared.

 Once he was sure that Val was gone, Maks stood from his bed, made his way to the door, and locked it. Whatever was going to happen tonight was going to happen, and he didn’t want to have to deal with his brother’s intervention.  

 --

 Maks rolled over for what felt like the zillionth time of the night. He reached for his phone to check the time, remembered it was broken, and rested his hand on his forehead instead. He closed his eyes, trying to let sleep take over. Of course, nothing happened and a couple seconds later he was climbing out of bed and into his bathroom.

 He left the light off, preferring to stumble about in the dark to squinting in the glow provided by the bright florescent light bulb.

 Maks turned on the shower, waiting just enough time for the water to turn steamy-hot before stripping and stepping inside. He let out a slight gasp as the scalding water hit his back before letting himself relax into it. He didn’t actually wash himself - that had never been the intention - just stood there, taking deep breaths and appreciating the calmness of it all, letting it seep into his mind and placate it.

He stayed there until the water turned cold, unwilling to return to the harsh reality of his life. When the chill became unbearable, Maks finally resigned himself to turning off the shower and stepping into his towel, rubbing his hair dry before moving to stand in front of the mirror.

 He looked just has he felt - like shit. But there was something about his reflection that induced a sense of deja vu; something was nagging at him. Maks found himself staring at the misery in his eyes, the worry lines on his face. And that something clicked.

He dropped his face into his hands because, suddenly, he knew. He understood what he had done, he understood what - and where - it had all gone wrong. But, most importantly, he understood her. And with that realization came fresh waves of pain, striking through his skull. He didn’t try to make it stop because he knew he deserved it. He survived the onslaught of suffering with one clear thought, strong enough to last through it all. It was hope, the hope that now that he understood, he could make it right.