The Outsider

"They won't think I'm cool if you're beside me. You said it yourself, you're a nobody. I don't even care if people like me, I'm fine with not being noticed or liked. You seem to place too much emphasis on looking cool; I just want to feel normal. Maybe you should worry about your insecurities, rather than try to tear me down because I'm confident enough in myself to not give a shit about people liking me. I think you're just pathetic," he drawled slowly, his voice at least returning to a calmer level, all while Maxwell seemed to be getting angrier and angrier with him. He didn't know what the moral high-ground was, but he definitely felt he had a right to act the way he was currently acting.

"...Sit by me then, because I'm not going yet. You've ruined the night for me but I don't want to go home to that prison. I'm fine just sitting here, listening to you whine on about how this is all so unfair. You can keep talking, I'm just not listening to you anymore, you're boring me."
 
Freezing in horror, Maxwell's trembling hands wrung each other, his cheek stained with tears. Before he could even reply, he realized he had slapped Milo across the face with all the force he could. It wasn't much, not compared to how much he could hurt someone by kicking them, for example, but it was definitely enough to leave a mark. Recoiling his hand in horror, he decided to bolt from the house instead of dealing with the consequences.

Which left Ricky pissed when his opportunity was squashed. Making his way back to Milo, he set his free hand on his him with a grimace. In reality, he didn't really give a shit about the emotional or physical state of the man but he had been working weeks to get to this point all for it to be wasted.

"Oi, the fuck did you say to him?" He questioned calmly. "That wasn't very nice, huh? Looks like you ruined my night, and I don't appreciate that."
 
"Your night's ruined? That just makes my night better, frankly. I've had a superb time, this has been wonderful. Apart from the last few seconds, this was great, really great. I'm glad your night has been ruined. You don't deserve to be anywhere near Maxwell. Don't think I'm so stupid I can't see what you're doing. I see it now. So hey, I've had a kiss with a cute girl and ruined your party for you. Tonight's been epic," he boasted casually as he stood up, his hand briefly going to his cheek to recover from the shock of being slapped. He didn't think he deserved that, and it definitely didn't make him want to return home any sooner. Spending the rest of the night just wandering about the streets would be a better use of his time, though he wasn't planning on that. Catching up with Georgia, or someone else he had been flirting with, was the plan.

"Haven't you gotten fed up of talking to me yet? If not, hurry and finish what you need to say. I want to catch up with someone I find a) more interesting and b) attractive. Insult me or belittle me, just hurry up, hm?"
 
"Oh, so you're not going to let me treat your cousin with respect? You, of all people? Last time I checked, I wasn't the one who was slapped by him," he reminded with a sly smile. Just because he couldn't get what he wanted from Maxwell at the moment didn't mean he couldn't at least be satisfied by teasing the taller man.

"Let me just say this," he began slowly with a low chuckle. "I've been told that I'm a terrible person but hey, I think you take the cake. I have every right to kick you out of my house and I'm pretty tempted to do just that. No deed goes unpunished."
 
"Bet you'd love to get slapped by him though, you're so pathetically eager to be near him. Why? You don't like him. We'll make up in seconds and it'll be fine. You'll have to work twice as hard because he isn't so keen on you either right now. I'll make sure he stays away from you in future, so move on and find someone else. I might not be happy with Maxwell, but I'd still defend him from jerks like you-- I think I've said everything I need to say," he shrugged, pushing himself up and adjusting the sleeves of his jumper. Ricky's threats hardly bothered him at this point, though it wasn't because of the alcohol he had consumed. He had had far more than anyone at that party, yet the effects hadn't kicked in. Presumably, he was immune to getting drunk, which was a nice perk because he liked the taste of alcohol, but didn't want to end up like Maxwell the day after.

"...You are a terrible person," he confirmed, even though he was sure that his assessment wouldn't hurt him that much. "And I might be a nobody, but I will break your jaw if you upset Maxwell, even only slightly. Okay?"
 
"What are you going to do to me? Break my jaw? I'll sue. Simple. I'm not afraid of you, especially not if you're going to hurt Maxwell," he stated before casually shrugging. He couldn't help but smile at the new discourse. Life was full when you had everything you ever wanted so causing some shit was at least something to do. If Milo seemed like a bad person, Maxwell would simply run to him instead.

"Have a nice night, Milo. I'm going to go and find Max - he's got that condition, right? I wouldn't want something bad to happen," he continued before walking away with a soft hum.
 
The party had died down at that point, with the final drunken few stumbling out the door and into cabs they had called. Knowing that he and Ricky were the only ones still in the house was a green-light to say what he wanted without ruining his budding reputation among the people that had actually taken to liking him. He wasn't afraid to tell Ricky what he thought of him, but doing so when it was just the two of them was preferable.

However, that privacy came with a cost. Had other people been around, Milo wouldn't have had the freedom to really lose his cool... but that was precisely what happened. He had spent years managing to stay looking human, without any accidental transformations. It had happened frequently as a child, whenever he got too emotional, or when he was sleeping and didn't have full focus, but for a good 8 years now, he hadn't altered into that form whatsoever. Hell, he was often far more comfortable looking human because he wanted to fit in and trick himself into thinking he was one of them. Switching out of his human form didn't really help that.

But Ricky seemed to push all the right buttons in him. Before he even really realised what had happened, ten minutes had passed and he was standing over a bruised, somewhat bloody Ricky. The time lapse scared him more than the sight of Ricky on the floor did, though when his memories flooded to him, he wasn't that frightened with himself. He remembered switching forms, grabbing the boy and throwing him around a bit, before everything went back to normal. Had he seriously hurt Ricky to the point where his life was threatened, he would have been mortified. A little beating, however, was probably deserved, even if he had to show the real him to do it.

"...You aren't going to threaten me anymore, are you? I don't think so-- I need money. I don't have any, they never saw the need to give me money when I wasn't supposed to leave the house. You're wealthy, so give me your wallet and I won't break your jaw, like I threatened to do. I don't want to hurt anyone, you just-- you really push me over the edge," he laughed, standing by the door with his hand held out expectantly. "...Wallet, Ricky. Hurry up. I have to go home to Maxwell-- if you go breathe a word of any of this, to anyone, I'll have to shut you up. I'm not violent, I don't like this, but I also don't like you. I don't feel bad for any of this."
 
"What the fuck are you?!" He hissed, coughing a tad as he held his now split lip. Staring at Milo in horror, he did tug out the cash from his wallet and held it out with trembling hands. "Fucking - get the hell out of my house, y-you fucking monster. Don't ever come back, okay?!" He snapped.

Meanwhile, at home, Maxwell had spent most of the night pretty much locked in the bathroom, sitting snuggling in the bathtub with a mix of guilt, anger, and genuine fear for Milo. Every time he felt he could doze off, though, he felt himself get ill and unsurprisingly got sick. It was a shitty cycle and he wasn't very sure how to end it.
 
The plan had been to go straight home, despite knowing the argument that probably awaited him upon his return. However, the impromptu decision to get cash from Ricky changed that plan completely. Instead, he ventured into the town to explore, only realising once there that every shop was shut. The only places that seemed to be open were fast-food restaurants and clubs... and he spent the money within no time on a mixture of both those things.

It would be early in the morning before he made his entrance back home, silently hanging his coat up and casually trailing into the kitchen for breakfast like nothing had happened during the night. A small part of him was worried Ricky would blab to someone, but he consoled himself, knowing he had an excuse to really terrify him if he did. Hell, he was confident the fear he'd instilled in Ricky was enough to silence him anyway.
 
"Why the fuck are you here?" Came Maxwell's voice through the small crack in the bathroom door. "What, you decide to come back? You should have just... I-I don't know, go live with that Georgia girl, yeah? You seem to have hit it off with her and she isn't pathetic," he murmured. His throat was sore and he had a pounding headache, all he wanted to do was have some hot tea and some ibuprofen but he was stubborn enough to not come out.

"God, just... leave. I don't even care anymore. You don't want to be here and I'm tired of being treated like the bad guy s-so just leave," he said, his words trembling as he spoke. It was never good for him to cry and he always felt so weird doing it, so the whole situation made him uncomfortable. Hell, he had been feeling uncomfortable for the last seven months. Rubbing his face with a sniffle, he blew his nose on the sleeve of his sweater as he blocked the door with himself... not that he was expecting to be comforted.
 
"I haven't got money. I still don't know the world that well. Leaving isn't an option, and it never was something I wanted to do permanently. I just want to be treated like a normal person, I don't think that's a lot to ask for," he replied calmly, his back remaining turned to him as he proceeded to cook the scrambled eggs for himself, only leaving to search for some other ingredients in the fridge.

"I was out of order last night, but it was an overwhelming thing for me and you weren't acting in the best way either, let's not gloss over that. I had a great time though. I went out clubbing afterwards, and I had a McDonald's for the first time, that was amazing. I met up with Georgia and her friends, they all seem really nice-- it was fun. Normal. I don't understand why you're so mad. I'm not going to go out there and be vulnerable, I can handle myself. I'm also not stupid," he criticised, turning briefly to glance back at Maxwell. "...If Ricky calls you, ignore him. You shouldn't be interested in what he has to say, he's only interested in you because he wants to use for. He doesn't like you."
 
"What the fuck do you know?!" He snapped, though held his head when he was suddenly hit with pain. "He likes me and... and he's the only person who seems to care about me. He doesn't call me pathetic, like the people who I thought cared about me, a-and... he's nice. You just - you don't understand anything, Milo! Just because you went to a party once doesn't mean you know everything all of a sudden."

"It wouldn't have been overwhelming if you listened to me. You... don't respect me, do you? You respected my parents b-but..." he continued, though his voice was much more muffled by the door. "If you want to lie and go out and get hurt, I shouldn't care, just like you shouldn't care if I spend time with Ricky."
 
"I don't think he wants to hang out with you now anyway. You should be glad I got involved," he replied simply, his eyes rolling at the argument that was brewing up. It was nothing he hadn't anticipated anyway, but it was still a lot to take in. He was just glad he was immune to hangovers, because this would be impossible to deal with if he had one.

"You either want me to leave or you want me to stay. I can do either. I want to stay here and be with you, but not if you're going to be a pain in the neck about this. I went outside, it's not like I did something crazy-- I may have done something crazy last night, but I'm sure it'll be fine," he admitted after a moment, a brief crack appearing in his otherwise confident display. Turning to face the oven again, just to avoid looking at Maxwell, he waited a few seconds before speaking again. "...Ricky knows what I am. It's not a big deal, Max. I handled it. He deserved to get a punch or two. I assume he'll call you up about it so at least I'm admitting it first. Maybe he'll forget it happened? Maybe he'll blame it on the alcohol? Humans have a habit of forgetting things whilst drunk, right? You do it all the time."
 
"What did you do?" He quickly replied in horror, the door slamming open to expose the clear wreck that was Maxwell. He felt gross, was definitely scratched up from possibly falling on his way home multiple times into rough concrete, and his eye was red from crying. Not to mention the gravelly voice and the reddened nose. He was the complete opposite to Milo who seemed completely calm.

"What the fuck did you do, Milo? Did... god, did you show him what you really are...? You did, didn't you? Jesus Christ - well, now we're fucked! He's... going to call the cops or whatever and they'll take you away from me and you'll be sliced up and I'll never see you again," he declared in clear panic. "This is why I wanted to have you go out slowly, so you didn't do stupid shit like that. Not only that but the only person who seemed genuinely interested in me is probably going to completely ignore me a-and by extension, everyone else."
 
"If it helps, he was never going to hang around with you after he got what he wanted, whatever that is. He made it clearly he was quite happy to use our argument to get close to you-- maybe I'm an idiot. Maybe you would like to be close to him? Maybe you're into the jerks that'll use you and dump you when they've got what they wanted. I lost my cool with him when he mentioned you, it sounded like a threat, I took it the wrong way, maybe-- look, it's fine. I didn't hurt him that much. There was only a little blood. I've seen you bleed more just by tripping down a few steps," he pointed out with a tired smile, his arms folding over his chest. If he wasn't calm, Maxwell would only panic more, and he wanted to avoid that. Hell, he wanted to avoid panicking him whatsoever, but it was pretty inevitable. Either he would admit what happened, or wait for Ricky to do it. Even if Ricky didn't open his mouth, the guilt would still be weighing on Milo for what had happened.

"...I don't think he's going to go tell people. Who's going to believe him? He was wasted last night. If he was sober, they'd still think he was insane. It's fine," he reassured, turning to plate up his breakfast with an easy hum. "...I kinda enjoyed it, in a weird way. I want to fit in with you guys, but I'm never going to be normal, am I? It was nice just... being me for once; the real me. It was refreshing-- you wouldn't get that, you don't have to fucking hide the real you. This isn't painless, it really hurts to stay like this, Max. Last night was... good for me."
 
"He's one of the most influential people on campus, Milo! He's super rich, cute, talented... why wouldn't people believe him?!" He countered before beginning to pace a tad. Despite having nothing in his stomach, the smell of food only made him feel more ill. Chewing on the sleeve of his sweater was a nervous habit he had taken up and, unsurprisingly, most of his sweaters' sleeves were covered in little holes made from bite marks.

"I don't know what we're going to do," he admitted under his breath. "We're going to lose everything. I know you clearly don't understand that - or maybe you just don't care. This is... bad. This is very bad. I don't know how I'm going to tell everyone Ricky is wrong - why the hell did you have to beat him up?!"
 
"So they're immediately going to believe a completely drunk, inebriated man when he makes wild claims about me being a monster? Do you hear yourself? He'll sound crazy. The guy cares so much about his reputation that he won't ruin it by making people think he's crazy, will he? I think I scared him enough to keep his goddamn mouth shut anyway," he grunted, his amused smile fading at the consistent anger. He understood why he was mad... but it did annoy him that none of his words really made any impact with Maxwell. It shouldn't have surprised him. Asking Maxwell to understand how cathartic it was to be in his real form wasn't possible when he didn't have to go through life constantly disguised all the time.

"If you're going to keep yelling, I'm just going to leave and spend the day out with some of my new friends. It may shock you, but people liked me at that party. I know you probably hoped they'd hate me so I cam crawling back to the house too upset to leave again, but they like me, Maxwell. I'd rather spend time with people like that who aren't screaming at me."
 
"You... You're so fucking selfish!" He squeaked. "You aren't fucking listening to me, are you?! You go to a party full of drunk college students and suddenly you know everything about the world? Shut up." He insisted in his attempt to be stern. The fact that Milo seemed to just put off his emotions was infuriating to no end. He was far from a powerful figure but with Milo, he would at least listen to him. Now that he was seemingly disregarded after one night made him want to kick the wall in... which he decidedly did.

Staring at the large hole in the wall, all the color drained from his face at the realization of what he did... and how much that would cost. Pausing for a moment, he glanced over at Milo with a wide eye. "... where the fuck did you put that spare key, Milo?"
 
"Way to go, that's real mature," he criticised once eyeing the hole in the wall, his brow arched in surprise that he had apparently angered him that much. He didn't have the same worries about it, though. In reality, Maxwell could kick holes into walls all over the house and Milo wouldn't care; he only cared if Maxwell hurt himself in the process. Seeing he was presumably okay, he shrugged the act off and tucked into his breakfast casually.

"Like fuck are you having the spare key. I'm going to keep it so I can leave when I want to. Don't think you can shove me back inside and leave me locked up again, I'm not going to do that. I won't leave without telling you, I'll give you details about where I'm going, but I'm not giving you the key back. You're delusional if you think that was even remotely on the table."
 
"Well, clearly I can't trust you if you straight up lie to me and expose your real form. What if you tell me you're going somewhere a-and get hurt? You shouldn't go outside alone, especially not with strangers that you don't know! Why... are you so thick, Milo? They don't care about you. Hell, they'll probably forget about you when they sober up. You have the audacity to call me pathetic yet you're too naive to realize that people won't just suddenly befriend you while they're blackout drunk. You're not going to listen to me, though, huh?"

As he spoke, it was clear that Maxwell was running on fumes. He was exhausted, both emotionally and physically. "I'm never going to be able to trust you again, not after this. I'm just... I'm disappointed but you don't care."
 
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