Driving in a big city is a nightmare regardless of geographical location, but there are thousands of special places in Hell for the driving population of Boston, Massachusetts.

After haggling Lenny for the car, struggling to find it in the parking garage (Lenny didn't know which floor he parked on, the asshole), and peeling the fuck out while Google Maps was still calibrating, Jules took longer than he wanted to start heading in Max's direction. He kept hearing his promise of "15 minutes, I'll be there in 15 minutes." Thirty minutes after hanging up, he was stuck in traffic on the way across town, something that should've been a ten minute drive, easy, but apparently the whole fuckin' city was out on urgent business at close to midnight, meaning Jules, slightly out of practice as a driver, found himself getting repeatedly cut off.

He cursed at the cars in front of him, yelling and gesturing, but his hands were shaking. Was Max okay? Jules clenched the steering wheel and tried to send energy into the universe towards him: I'm on my way, I'll be there soon, I'm sorry I'm taking so long, please be okay.

The car clock read 12:03 as Julian finally turned onto Washington street, his eyes scanning the sidewalk for floppy caramel hair.

Max was a couple blocks past Flanagans, sitting at a bus station. The cute shirt he'd picked for the date looked crumpled, and his carefully selected brown leather jacket sagged off his shoulders a bit. He looked entirely ruffled in an uncharacteristic way.

Jules yanked the car over towards the shoulder, rolling down the passenger side window. "Max!"

He looked up, eyes red and wet. "You're here."

They stared at each other. Jules wanted to say, Did he hurt you? Do I need to go beat him with my prosthetic? Because I'm in love with you, maybe now more than I ever have been, and I'll fucking kill that guy if you let me. What he actually said was, "Get in the car, dumbass, you'll freeze to death!"

Max looked startled by the tone, but not angry. His mouth even quirked towards smiling for a brief second. He stood, pushing his jeans back into order with his palms, and walked towards Lenny's Dark Green Mini Cooper.

("A Mini Cooper? You fuckin' kiddin' me?" Jules had said incredulously.

"Fuck you. It's affordable. And a total fuck wagon if you put the back seats down."

Jules shuddered. "You're tryin' to make me believe you've had sex in this car?"

Lenny shrugged with a devilish look in his eye. "I played the trumpet in High School. I got a way with my tongue. Chicks dig it."

Julian snatched the keys while pretending to gag.)

Max climbed into the passenger's seat delicately, as if scared of something. He pushed the leather jacket off his shoulders.

"Seatbelt?" Jules quietly suggested.

"Aren't you gonna say that you told me so?"

Julian's eyebrows knit. "Max, I know you think I'm a total asshole, but--"

Max's head snapped in Jules' direction, and he saw the boy's eyes full of fresh, hot tears. "No, I don't, I think you were right and I didn't fuckin' listen because I'm so wicked stubborn and I think I know things but I don't know jackshit and I let people hurt me because I put them on a pedestal in my mind and won't let nobody say anything about it even if they're just tryin' to help me--"

"Max!" Jules interrupted, grabbing his friends' shoulders. "Stop it! You're hyperventilatin', dude!"

And he was. Breathing heavily, crying, shaking. When Jules laid his hands on Max's shoulders, Max's hands flew up to grab his wrists, trying to anchor himself, trying to focus on anything but the shame and anger bubbling like witch's brew in his stomach.

"Breath with me." Jules commanded. "In... 2... 3... 4... out... 2... 3... 4..."

And they breathed, sitting in the Mini Cooper, Max sniffling, Jules' heart hammering.

After a few minutes of this, Julian began to drive. "You can tell me what happened whenever you're ready. Or, you don't even have to tell me, if you don't want to, I just--"

"His friends were there."

It took every ounce of Julian's self control to stay staring at the road, knuckles white. "Okay."

"Like, a lot of 'em. Hockey team dudes. Standin' around laughin' already when I came in. Joey smiled, and for a second I was like, maybe this is gonna be okay, maybe I misread this as a date, but I still get to hang with Joey, so it's alright, maybe it'll be alright." Max took a deep breath. "He pointed at me. All the dudes looked over, also started grinnin', a few of 'em laughed a little. It was weird, Jules, I didn't recognize 'em at all. Not a one. Been to all those hockey games but I got Thatchlin tunnel vision, I fuckin' guess!" His voice turned dark. "Well. I don't anymore.

"I walk towards the table, give a little wave, tryin' to be nice, and that just killed 'em. I mean, everybody's laughin' at my wave. I kinda frown, confused, and one of 'em imitates my face, does the frown back, and I felt gross, Jules, I mean, I can feel each and every one of 'em makin' fun of me. But what can I do besides walk forward? I mean, it's pretty obvious now what I'm walkin' into, but I can't stop myself. It's like I was tryin' to say earlier, I mean, I put people on pedestals, they can't do no wrong in my eyes, I'm still holdin' out hope that Joey likes me.

"I walk up and he's grinnin' like a hyena. He says, 'Boys, meet Maxwell Dane.' He said my name all funny too, in a poncy sorta voice. The boys lose their minds laughin'. I'm gettin' embarrassed, ears heating up. I try to say, 'Um, hi,' and immediately one barks back 'Um, hi!" all nasally and gross, textbook offensive imitation of a gay person. I don't even know what to do at this point. This shit-- like-- doesn't. Happen. You know what I mean? It's 2017, man, like-- what the fuck? I was just horrified. I felt like I walked into an alternate universe. The guy on the left of Joey leans over in his ear, tryin' to be all sneaky, but I hear him like if he was leanin' into my ear, and he says, 'So this is that little faggot that's obsessed with you, huh?'"

Jules bristled. "Holy fuck. Oh my God. Max, I'm so sorry--"

"That opened the floodgates. They all started sayin' shit. Repeatin' messages from our private text conversations, but in that annoying stereotypical ass gay lisp that I don't even got. 'I go to every game just to see you, Joey.' 'The first time I saw you take off the mask I gasped out loud.' 'I think you're wicked pretty.' They said that one a lot. I barely even remembered sendin' that text. And in context, it wasn't even a big deal, he just said 'Tell me your honest opinion of me,' and fuck, you know I love bein' honest! Jesus."

"Max, that's terrible, I don't even know where to begin--"

"When I walked out they cheered. I mean it. Whoopin' and hollerin' and high fivin' each other like they just scored a goal. 'Yeah, fuck off, fag! Leave Joey alone from now on, you hear?' I'd never been so mortified in my goddamn life." Jules tried to cut in, to validate Max's feelings, but Max steamrolled on. "And I was sittin' on that bus bench for a bus I know damn well don't run at 11 o'clock at night, waitin' for you to appear or the ground to swallow me, whichever came to pass first, and I just kept thinkin', 'Jules was right. He tried to warn me a hundred times and I didn't fuckin' listen. He's my best friend and I don't even fuckin' listen to him.'"

Jules swallowed. How was he supposed to respond to that? "It's okay, Max."

"No, man, it isn't okay. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the way I been actin'."

They were finally reaching campus. "It doesn't matter, Max. I don't care. All I care about right now is you. The way those guys treated you? I think they should be fuckin' hanged. I mean it. They're the kind of assholes that should be extinct by now, but they're not, and what they just did to you is so fucked up I don't even know what to say about it. And all I care about right now, dude, is takin' care of you." Jules cleared his throat. Tried to find something less tender to say. "I mean, what do you need right now, man? How can I help you out?"

They pulled into a parking spot. Jules could finally look at Max, and what he saw made him want to fold the other boy into his arms and run as far away as he could, out of this shitty city with hockey assholes likes Joey Thatchlin. Max shifted as he unclicked his seatbelt. "Can I sleep in your dorm? I don't-- I can't be alone right now."

Even if he wanted to, Julian was completely incapable of denying Max.

~~~

author's note: oh my gosh! sorry that i'm the worst at keeping an update schedule lmao! but here we are back with regularly scheduled updates! i think there's only about three more chapters after this :0! i hope y'all are havin fun :)