planning my crash landing | harley/maxen

The brown paper bag he carried had already molded around the glass bottle inside, the lid left behind six or seven blocks ago. He smiled back at the night, a toothy grin from a pavement-scuffed boy. The starless sky kept its eye on him, he liked to think- kept him safe. He stumbled forward one, two, three steps before he could catch up with his own feet. He leveled his arms out to his side to keep himself upright. His fingers absently entangled themselves around the swirling floral-patterned wrought iron at his side and he took in a deep breath. You gotta get home soon, he thought, head nodding.

Blink.

The amber glow of a streetlight blurred into the smiling mouth of someone he forgot to remember. Someone who smelled like cinnamon.

Blink. 

Maxen's eyes fluttered open and he lurched up from his bed, barely making it to the trashcan before emptying his stomach. Cinnamon. Just like the fifth of whiskey he'd stupidly polished off on his walk last night. It seemed he hadn't gone straight home once he blacked out, but he wasn't exactly surprised. What did that girl say her name was? Mary? Meredith? Megan? Or had he even bothered asking?

He swished his mouth out with water and looked at the ghastly, hunched version of himself that was reflected back at him in the mirror. A nightmare of what could have been. And he was certain he felt worse than he looked- His head was killing him. He yawned over to a metal tin stashed between his mattresses and rattled it next to his ear before smiling excitedly to himself when something seemed to be inside.

Smoke session time!

Charlotte must've smelled it from the hallway, banging on the door enough to make him cringe against the noise. He leaned back in his bed with the joint hanging out of his mouth so he could press his fingers against his temples.

"Maxen!" she shouted through the door a couple minutes later. He groaned.

"Get your lazy-ass up before I get the Keepers outside to drag you down the stairs themselves."

"Fuck off!" he shouted, begrudgingly snuffing the last of his smoke out. What had crawled up her ass? Why was she acting like they had a funeral they were late for? He paused, trying to remember if he'd forgotten his own birthday again. Nope, May had already come and gone, right? Or was that last year?

Suddenly, an inkling of a conversation he'd had a few days prior finally unstuck itself from the inaccessible parts of his memory over the bender he'd been on this past week. Reaping. Right. Mandatory. Or whatever. He pressed his head into the pillow. "Fine!" A few minutes later he emerged in his cleanest looking shirt and a frown.

"Stop being an opp."

---

He'd taken her sunglasses from her on the walk over, told her his eyes couldn't handle the sting of daylight. He was glad for it now, standing in the hall while some peacekeeper stood in the doorway that'd allow him to see his sister and a florescent bulb above made the world's most annoying low-frequency ringing noise. Not just to help with the lights, not even to hide the dark circles under his eyes. But because of the fucking tears.

It wasn't like that- he cried when he got angry. His knuckles were still bleeding from the brick column that'd suffered the wrath of his anger on the short walk over. He had to keep his arms crossed over his chest because he was convinced if any of the keepers saw it they wouldn't allow him inside. The guy in front of the door stared at the blank sheet of black glass while Maxen stared directly into the guy's eyes. He didn't seem to think much of him; Maxen rolled his eyes. He was the kind of danger people usually mistook for fun until it was too late; he had half a mind to walk up and push the straightened paperclip in his pocket right into the fucker's eye. But then someone said something to the piece in his ear, so he cleared his throat. "Got it. Alright kid," he said, addressing Maxen by waving him over, "You're good to enter. Three minutes."

The second he was inside, the door slammed behind him. He held his hand over his heart and peered at his sister over the top of the sunglasses.

"Well this fuckin' blows donkey dick! " he said, stopping at a bowl of candy and tucking a lollipop into the side of his mouth.

"You're gonna have to go dark mode to get back here alive. You know that, right? If you're scared, you gotta move past it. Don't try to play your mind-shit with them too much. Piss the wrong one off and it'll be like the Mess Hall Incident back in the Detention Center. I won't be there this time to keep the toothbrush handle out of your back. You're on your own in there."

He cleared his throat.

"But I'll be here when you get back."

They only had each other left. He had to be there when she got back. Just like she had to come back with a pulse. Otherwise, one of them would be completely-

alone.