chapter two
we fell in love in october

        Alex is a runner.  Always has been.  These days she seems to be running from her problems more often.  (At least she isn't being hunted anymore).  Feet pound against the sidewalk.  Music fills her ears.  Alex breaks out of the woods and into the town.  The streets are empty.  Alex rises with the sun despite her midnight conversation with Steve.  The rest of the town is still asleep.  Dawn barely brakes across the sky when she closes the front door behind her. 

In the weeks following Will's return to the right side of the universe, Hawkins seems to fall back into its regular pattern.  Curfews are lifted.  Doors are once more left unlocked.  People stray on the streets after the sun sets.  The community suddenly transitions from trusting nobody to trusting openly again.  Things are normal again.  And yet, Alex doesn't seem to change along with Hawkins.  Suddenly, she feels like an outlier in the midst of everything because everybody else is normal, but she does not feel normal. 

It was stupid of her to think that she would be normal again.  She hadn't been normal to begin with.  She had never fit into the boxes that society tried to shove her into.  What made her think that she would fit now?  Her hands are stained with blood that does not belong to her.  Her anger is still visceral, even if it shows itself less.  She walks around with a fatal, gaping wound in her heart and doesn't treat it.  If one were to peel open her skull and study her brain, they would see a mess of intrusive thoughts and a treasure trove of lost wasted potential within a flytrap of a mind, something that was built to change the world had circumstances been different.  She is a girl of malformed expectations.  She'll never be able to fit into any box.  She had once thought that it was a good thing that nobody could force her to conform to expectations.  But society shames and shuns the people who do not fit into its boxes.   

Stupid.  Stupid.  Stupid.

Alex wants to take the negative thoughts and throttle them, smash them against the walls of her brain, and stomp them into the ground so that the maggots can feast on them.  Unfortunately for Alex, thoughts have no substance.  She cannot wring them by their necks because they have none.  This only makes her angrier because she just wants them to shut up.  Categorizing the thoughts is useless.  It doesn't stop them from coming.  They're harder to suppress now and they're easier to hear.  Sometimes they're triggered by something someone says and they flood into her head.  Other times they appear, manifest in her mind out of nowhere and then they're the only thing that she can hear.  She finds herself listening to them before she even realizes it sometimes. 

Maybe she should try to start journaling as Kyra had suggested.  Not that she had the kind of consistency to keep up with one. 

Running tends to take her mind off of the negative thoughts, though.  Alex likes to think that is a form of the Method of Catharsis.  Something that Kyra mentions one time.  Catharsis is derived from the Greek katharsis—cleansing, purging, or purification—the Method of Catharsis is releasing pent-up emotions through forms of art.  She doesn't think running exactly qualifies as art, but she's less angry after she runs and it makes the weight of her emotions feel lighter. 

The sound of her music masks the pounding of her feet and the songs of the early birds.  She doesn't know many of these artists on the mixtape that Jonathan hid gifted her.  It had been a way to introduce her to more than what Steve taught her.  She recognizes some—Tears for Fears, Fleetwood Mac, Black Sabbath, and Metallica among them.  The world is quiet so the music makes it loud again.  Sometimes when the world is quiet it's easier for the negative thoughts to creep into her head.  It's better when it's loud. 

Alex can't count on many things anymore.  Life is unpredictable—as cheezy as that sounds.  Death could be lurking around any corner.  But Alex can always count on Hawkins still being asleep at this time of the morning.  She barely looks up as her feet pound against the sidewalk.  She takes the same route every morning every day at the same time.  It's been ingrained into her, and became part of her routine so that she could at least feign normalcy.

She doesn't see the girl.

The girl doesn't see her.

Evidently.

Not until a shout of, "Look out—" pierces through the music.

At that point, it's too late to do anything to prevent the cataclysm of events.  Alex tries to stop but still finds herself crashing into something solid and reeling backward.  Tailbone meets concrete with a thud and Alex lets up out a groan as her headphones slip off of her head.  "Ow!  Shit.  I'm so sorry!  Nobody's ever up at this time.  I thought—"

"It's fine," the girl replies plainly.

She offers a hand to Alex, who is still splayed on the ground, dazed and with a scraped elbow.  Alex looks up and freezes for a split second.  Her eyes meet striking blue ones—she doesn't think she's seen eyes with this shade of blue—and a spray of freckles that dot her face like stars in the night sky and sunkissed skin.  The light of the sun behind her makes an effervescent glow around her red hair.  Shit.  She's pretty.  She's so effortlessly pretty and Alex doesn't think that she realizes it.  Alex hopes that the girl can't see the heat that rushes to her face.  She has to be a newcomer.  Her sunkissed skin gives most of this away—the sun doesn't linger in Hawkins when fall blows in, the tan clings to her too long for it to be from Hawkins' sun.  Besides, Alex thinks she would remember if she'd seen the girl in Hawkins before. 

The girl's hand is warm.  A stark contrast to the chilling morning air.  The girl wraps her arms around herself and pulls her jacket closer.  Another telltale sign that she's new.  Alex has grown used to the chilling airs of Hawkins because she's been here all her life.  This girl evidently has not. 

"Are you, uh, okay?" Alex asks.

"I'm fine," Max answers.  "I just...needed air.  I guess."

Alex raises an eyebrow.  "At five in the morning?"

"I feel like you shouldn't be talking," the girl responds.

"Touché," Alex responds with a small laugh.  "Um, I'm Alex by the way."

"Max," the girl replies.

"Cool name," Alex replies before she really registers the flow of words from her brain to her mouth.  Cool name?  What's wrong with you, Alex?  She clears her throat.  "Um.  Anyway.  Are you new here?"

"Just moved," Max answers with a nod.

"There's not too much to see here, but I could show you around if you wanted," Alex offers.  "Then you might have an idea of where to go next time you need air."

Max considers her offer for a moment, then nods.  "That'd be nice."

Alex is acutely aware of her heart pounding in her chest and her stomach twisting itself into knots and the sweat that accumulates on her palm and forehead as she leads Max through the town, pointing out the few landmarks in Hawkins—the arcade, the theater, and the library.  They talk idly and Alex learns more about Max; she moved from California to Hawkins with her mother, step-father, and step-brother, she loves the Mad Max movies, and she loves math.  She's just a kid, Alex assures herself, she wouldn't hurt her.  But something tells her that maybe this isn't fear that she's feeling.  She doesn't know what it is and she doesn't know if she likes it.  It's too close to fear for her comfort.

Alex doesn't even realize just how much time has already slipped through their fingers until she has to shield her face from the sun.  The rest of Hawkins is slowly waking up by the time that they pass RadioShack. 

"Are there any skate parks here?" Max asks suddenly.

"You skate?" Alex asks.  "That's so cool!  I've always wanted to learn how, but my parents and brother aren't very keen on the idea."

Max laughs softly.  "I'll have to teach you sometime."

"Really?" Alex asks with bright eyes.  She steals a glance at Max who seems amused by her enthusiasm. "But, to answer your question, we don't have any skate parks here."

"Damn," says Max.  "My dad used to take me to one all the time back when I was in California."

"Did you ever go to the beach?" Alex wonders.  "I've never been to one."

Max blinks.  "You haven't?"

She sounds more shocked than confused.  Alex has only ever seen beaches in movies and captured in photographs.  She's left to imagine what a beach is like.  Dazzling, warm, and blue—almost like Max's eyes.  She wonders what sand would feel like between her toes and just how much her eyes would sting in the salt water.  One of the first things that she wants to do when she finally leaves Hawkins is to go to a beach.

"No," Alex answers forlornly.  "I've only ever seen them in pictures and movies."

Max's eyebrows knit together until finally, dawning realization spreads across her face.  "I keep forgetting that not everywhere has beaches.  You don't learn to appreciate the small things until they're gone."

Alex nods.  There's so much that she had taken for granted that had been ripped away from her in just the course of a week.  Now she's left with a gaping wound in their absence.  A bigger wound than she had ever imagined.  Her childhood innocence slips through her fingers like sand.  Nights that she doesn't spend waking up with a strangled scream and a cold sweat are rare and few.  She misses when she isn't apprehensive at almost every waking hour.  And she misses how much freedom she used to have.

"I—"

But whatever Max is about to say is cut off by the revving of an engine behind them. 

"MAXINE!"  Shouts a gruff voice.  Alex and Max both whirl around only to be greeted by a blue Camaro.  Smoke billows out one of the windows and Alex is greeted by the sight of a boy, no older than Steve in the driver's seat.  Curly locks of hair fall around his shoulders and an ugly glare is fixed on his face.  He glares at Max and Alex, and Alex feels as though his gaze is piercing directly through her.

"Shit," Alex hears Max curse.

Alex glances over at Max whose demeanor has changed in an instant.  Her confidence melts away with her smile and Alex is left standing next to a girl filled with fear.  Max shoves her hand in her pocket and keeps her head bowed as if she wants to fold in on herself and disappear.  She's looking anywhere but at the car.  Max looks back up at Alex with those blue eyes of hers.

"That's—um—that's my step-brother," Max tells her.  Her voice is soft but rushed.  "I have to go."

Before Alex can reach out to Max, to ask her if everything is okay between her and her brother, Max is scurrying away and climbing into the passenger seat of the Camaro.  She stares down at the dashboard in front of her, refusing to meet her step-brother's eyes.  He says something, but Alex doesn't hear.  Max responds.  And then they tear away from the curb with a loud screech. 

Alex is left to stare after them.

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*

Alex hears voices from the kitchen when she enters the house. They're loud and angry and exasperated and Alex doesn't have to see to know that Steve and Dad have found something to argue about again. Their relationship had always been volatile, but it seems to be now more so than ever. Alex only wishes there were something she could do to mend their relationship.

The arguing ceases when they notice Alex standing in the doorway.

"Look who finally decided to turn up," Steve hums with a smile on his face as though he and Dad were not arguing only a few moments before.

"Morning, Dad," Alex greets uneasily, eyeing her father and her brother. "Morning, Steve."

"Morning, Alex," Dad replies with a tense smile. He's nursing a mug of coffee in his hands. He looks more tired now than ever. He glances over at Steve and the unresolved tension in the room grows stronger. He ruffles Alex's hair as he exits the kitchen. Alex frowns.

Her father has always been silent. He loves silently. He is angry silently. He hides his emotions beneath a layer of skin. It takes a long time for Alex to understand this. She has to learn all of his tells. When he's angry, when he's stressed, when he's tired. She leaves him alone on most days. She's always been closer to her mother than her father.

"Is everything okay?" Alex asks as soon as Dad disappears down the hall.

"I'm fine," Steve answers. He props his elbows on the counter and leans forward toward Alex. "So, why are you so late today?"

"Made a friend," Alex answers simply as she pulls the fridge doors open she searches the shelves in a daze. She can't help but think about Max and how quickly her demeanor had changed. Almost as if she were trying to make herself smaller. She didn't want to get into the car with her step-brother. Alex could've taken her by the hand and they could've run off together. But she was too slow. The thought of this only leaves Alex with a queasy feeling. Nobody should feel that way around their brother.

"Oh?" Steve asks.

"Yup," Alex nods, pouring herself a glass of orange juice.

"You gonna give me a name, or..." Steve prompts.

Alex hums to herself, taking lifting her glass to her lips. Steve watches her, and finally, when she lowers her glass, she answers.

"Max."

author's note: i meant to post this in october.

okay so obviously they did not fall in love during the two hours that they spent with each other.  but, it's october, it's the title of a girl in red song, alex is a lesbian, she and max are gay for each other.  they're very girl in red coded.  but!!  we have our very first almax content!!!!  this whole fic is just alex gay panicking at this point.  she's a whole simp already and i really don't blame her.