FLAMES

You're Here

When you woke up the next day, you checked your phone first thing. Nothing. You decided to stay home, you weren't feeling too good and the heat of the protests and marches wouldn't help.

On the second day, there was no text, no call, all day. You had decided not to go out again, you felt fine, but the thought of seeing Max made your stomach churn. Objectively, you did want to see him. But there was something about the fact he'd held your face and looked at you and made you feel special- before not reaching out for almost 48 hours. Did he hate you, want to forget about you? Did he think you were weird?

You were in your kitchen, trying to make some cookies to distract yourself. You had music playing and over and over you tried to remind yourself that you couldn't really be into Max when you'd never even seen his face, seen an arm, anything.

Night was coming pretty quickly when you heard the protests getting worse outside. For your own personal safety, you decided that going wasn't smart- especially with your size and how it took you a few days to have your eyes feel normal again after being teargassed. You kept yourself busy by scrolling through social media, and you found a livestream of the protests a few minutes from your house, and decided to tune in.

Motherfucker.
The picture was blurry, but the first thing you thought was how big of an idiot Max was. His tall figure was picking teargas cans up and hurling them back in the direction of the cops. Your face heated up, and you clenched your jaw. The person behind the camera was a little shaky and started to run, and you saw Max tug up the yellow gloves he was wearing. He ran, too, and it showed him starting to kick back trash on the street and stalk over to some cops.

You turned the live off, covering your face and standing up. You could head distant sounds of what you just watched outside, and you walked to your room, tugging on your shoes.

I can't believe I'm seriously going to do this.

Your mind was running 100 miles an hour as you pulled on a hoodie, grabbing your keys and walking out your door. You locked it behind you, making your way downtown with a frustrated look, your hand grappling for your phone. You pulled it out, staring at the screen as it loaded and finally displayed where Max was again. He was talking down on some cops, bending down. You recognized the building behind him and started walking that way, crossing your arms.

This was fucking ridiculous. He wouldn't do this for you, he wouldn't even care this much. But for some reason that you didn't know, you wanted to pull him out of the scene before it got worse, before it got dangerous. Before something happened to him. Your sneakered shoes hit the pavement as you passed by people, slowly starting to enter the bigger crowds. You moved past people, whispering and mumbling apologizes and asking to be excused.

The night was setting in, casting the city in slight orange hues as the sky was half dark, half hopeful sunset. You huffed. Why couldn't this be normal? Why couldn't he just like you? You bit your lip, scouting out the crowd, and finally saw him.

He was still talking to those cops, and they started to look pissed off. You walked through the group of people, up right to him, grabbed his arm, and tugged. You couldn't say his name, but your eyes were a silent plead screaming Max.

You didn't even know how you got in this situation.

He turned to look at you, and moved his hand away just as quickly. He hisses your name, the crowd loud and drowning the two of you out.

"I have teargas on my entire fuckin' body. Don't touch me." You clench your jaw.

"I came all the way down here to tell you to stop being stupid. Don't be a dumbass. Please." You move to grip his arm, ignoring what he said, feeling the slight tingle of the gas. He moves away again.