its not that bad (anything to make me feel less numb)

by Anonymous

Summary:

max didn't think it had gotten that bad, it hadn't in her eyes at least.
and its fine until a familiar boy she wanted to forget tries to come for a chat

or

i had an idea at 1am a few weeks ago and just went with it

(this is my first ever real posted fic so don't judge it by how badly tagged and summarised it is.)

READ THIS BEFORE READING!!!!!

(work is abandoned for now since 20/05/25 and put under anonymous as irls found my Ao3. uh oh!)

Notes:

HELLO!!! TY FOR CLICKING ON THIS UHM YEAH SO THIS IS MY FIRST FIC IVE EVER EVEN THOUGHT WAS GOOD ENOUGH TO POST!

im vv new to this so dont be to mean but please enjoy the first chapter!!

Chapter 1: don't make a fool of yourself

Others had it worse, the mantra she repeated to herself over and over. 

She thought It wasn't that bad. She was always telling herself that anyway.

Well… it didn't start off bad, you know? It never will. But these things always spiral.

They. Always. Fucking. Spiral .

At first, it was a once-in-a-while thing. No big deal, right? wrong.

Every few months, she got too tired and couldn't bother to leave her bed and missed one or two plans that had been made. That's fine. But months turned into weeks, and weeks turned into days, and then she practically never hung out with the Party.

And it wasn't like she didn't wanna hang out, because she did. She really did.

It was just too hard. Once you miss a few days, it feels like you're out of place, and then getting back feels impossible. You lose your once oh-so-close connection. A few inside jokes. Other, bigger plans. That stuff. You know?

 They never tried on their end anyway, so maybe it was mutual, but that didn't stop her from feeling selfish. Those were her friends, couldn't she just try a bit harder?

Anyway, The only person she even stayed a bit close with was Eleven. El understood her, listened to her, and made it feel like everything was good again. Max had used El as a crutch for so long. But like everyone she's ever loved, Eleven was gone now, and so was Will, halfway across the country in fact, leaving Max to be alone and rot away with everything else in that dumpster fire they call a town.

She liked to think the Party would understand. Obviously, they'd all gone through things beyond human imagination. But they don't understand. They really, really don't. No matter how hard they try. 

That leads, somewhat, to her new habit. A habit that started off “not that bad” too, but of course, just like before, it always spirals.

She didn't like to call it self-harm. To her, it was just “the thing I do sometimes.”

It started off as one small cut below her wrist, just to try it out. 

It helps some people, maybe it can help me. Was what she had foolishly thought

 But after that she had decided right then and there to never do it again. It hurt. How the fuck does this help people? 

But later, after a bad night of nightmares and crying and missing her long-gone friends, she had her fuck it moment and did it more, right below the small white scar from her first time. The next morning, she would regret it. But then it became a cycle: cry, cut, regret. Rinse and fucking repeat.

And now, like many before, Max had woken up. regretting all of it. Some days, she wonders if it would’ve been different if El was still here, maybe if she hadn’t left with Will, if she hadn’t moved halfway across the country. But she did. And now Max is alone. She shook off the thought and went back to the task at hand—or, well, arm.

Lucky for Max, she was a self-proclaimed first aid pro (she was not even close to that).

But of course, her luck runs out. She's mid-cleaning last night's activity and for a moment, just a moment, it feels like time comes to a halt- like she's in another universe. It's nice. But as if she had of jinxed it, max was proven wrong, hearing her mothers voice-

“Max honey, you have to go soon!” rings throughout the house, scaring the shit out of her and even worse, making her hand slip and dig right into a fresh scab. ouch.

“Shit…” drops out of her mouth as she hisses in pain, watching the blood bead up on her pale skin. She quickly wraps up her arm in bandage and gauze, gets dressed (if you can even call what she did that), and speeds to her bus stop, praying that there's a free seat with no one next to her. 

There isn't. She's sat next to a boy who breathes louder than a fucking pig . Why does this always happen to me?

School was the same as always: homeroom, class (pray not to get called on), missing a lesson to talk to a school counselor or whatever the fuck you wanna call them, break (avoid the boys at all costs—if they try to speak to you, even if unlikely, be sarcastic or uninterested and walk off), more classes, lunch, usually skipping last period and going home. It was her routine, and she (somewhat) enjoyed it.

Today was different though. At lunch, her worst nightmare (not really ) became true, as a certain stalker boy tapped her on the shoulder. creepy much?

“Hey, Max, can- can I talk with you?” he said, with so much kindness in his voice. Oh god, how she missed it.

“For sure… yeah,” she said, just to turn, roll her eyes, and start walking away—only to have her wrist grabbed, fuck, it hurt , by the taller boy, who was not letting go when she was trying her best to hold back a wince of pain as she screwed up her face.

“This—” he began, but then she cut him off.

“OW— I— can you please let go?” the ginger said, looking at her wrist, praying this wouldn't give her away.

Lucas looked at her funny, let go, and replied, “This is serious, I need to talk to you. and we need to talk about what just happened there.” awh fuck. “I was barely holding on—it shouldn't have hurt. Are you okay? Are you injured?”

Her breath hitched and her stomach dropped. Suddenly everything had felt cold, her hands felt clammy and she wanted to throw up. 

God, if you're real, strike me down right now.

Lucas has always been too observational for his own good. And now she was about to start crying in front of him. She had to leave. So Max had done what she knew best. Run away, she ran and ran till she couldnt, till her calves burned and her throat felt like sandpaper, blindly to wherever this took her. Max knew it wasn't “smart,” whatever that meant. But she needed an escape, that whole situation made it feel just a bit too real.

 

So now she was sitting at one of the shorter ledges of the quarry, tear stained puffy eyes, mud all over her trousers and shoes, not even a clue of the time and a mind filled with thoughts.

Chapter 2: something has been wrong.

Summary:

chapter 1 but make it lucas

Notes:

please enjoiii

Lucas knew something was wrong . Something had been wrong since last September.

At first, Max’s behavior felt normal. Everyone he knew had gone through something traumatic. She had gone through something traumatic, and recovering from things like that is hard. He knew that one all too well. So he told himself it was fine. Until it wasn’t.

A few days here and there were fine. Not everyone could hang out all the time. No big deal. She was grieving. But then a few days became most days. and then she stopped showing up altogether when Will and El moved. And if he brought it up, no one seemed to give a shit.

It was horrible.

At first, he tried to play it safe. Give her space. Let her come to him when she was ready. Eventually, he couldn’t leave it alone anymore. But by then, it was too late.

Every time he tried to talk to her, she walked away. Every. damn. Time

And he had tried calling her, at first she'd pick up, but it was barely long enough for small talk. Then she moved and he had never gotten the new number.

Did she hate him?

He wanted to say it was just about friendship. That he was only worried about her, the way anyone would be worried about a friend. But that wasn’t entirely true, was it? He missed her. He missed them.

 He missed the short lived friend group they'd had. And he hated that she was shutting him out, like he hadn’t been there through all of it too. He just wanted to be there for her. But he never had the courage.

Lucas always noticed Max in the halls—her red hair was unique and her beauty was hard to miss.

( At least, that’s what he thought .) 

But after a while, something changed. She was always looking down or slumped over her chair. Her eyes had grown darker, her skin paler and her freckles became less noticeable. She started wearing long sleeves, clothes  always just a little too baggy for it to be normal. For it to be healthy .

She used to have the brightest blue eyes, always looking full of energy no matter the expression on her face. Always fidgeting with something. The most vibrant clothes that contrasted with her auburn hair. Her freckles were the most noticeable thing about her, she was the epitome of beauty in his eyes. She still was, but she wasn't happy, she looked more and more like a shell of herself every day. 

He needed to do something.

So, he made a plan. Confront her, a simple conversation where he can express his concerns. 

He wasn't sure exactly what to say because he couldn't just outrighty go hey, Max! I’m worried about you because you pushed your friends away and look like shit all the time!

But he was sure the right words would come out in the moment, maybe he could even try to rekindle what they once had (just as friends… probably ).

The plan was simple. Go up to her. Ask to talk. Easy, right?

No. No, it was not easy. The last bajillion times he had tried to talk to the girl, she walked away, every single time. And obviously, he never followed. Was that wrong? Should he follow her? Maybe that's what he had been doing wrong, just letting her run off.

So this time, he wouldn’t let her leave. This time he was going to say more than 5 words, and she was going to listen.

So, fuck it. That’s what he did.

It didn’t turn out well, though. Why does it always go to shit?

He saw her again at lunch. sitting alone at the far end of the canteen, staring blankly at her tray, like she was catatonic. She hadn’t even touched her food. She needs to eat.

He could walk away. Pretend he didn’t see her. That’s what she wanted, right? She didn’t want to talk to him, however much he hoped it wasn’t true.

But then she shifted in her seat, and for the briefest moment, she looked up. Their eyes met. And she looked—tired. Defeated.

That was it. He wasn’t letting this go anymore.

So, he started to talk to max. She had stood up and tried to walk away—just like he expected. But then, impulsively, he grabbed her arm. She was unhealthy thin. Her clothes definitely made it look like there was much more to her.

Maybe this thing was a mistake, but he had stayed because That’s fine, now they can talk, right?

Wrong.

His fingers barely wrapped around her wrist—it wasn’t tight, just enough to stop her. But the second his skin made contact with hers, she stiffened. And then, she flinched.

“OW— I— can you please let go?”

It cut through the canteen's noise like a gunshot.

Lucas let go immediately, heart hammering.

“Max, I—” then word vomit.

“This is serious, I need to talk to you. and we need to talk about what just happened there. I was barely holding on—it shouldn't have hurt. Are you injured?”

 He hates himself sometimes.

But she was already pulling away, yanking her sleeve down over her wrist. Her expression was unreadable—shocked, maybe? Angry? Embarrassed? But then, in an instant, it shifted to something else. Something he barely recognized.

Panic. And before he could mutter another word, she bolted.

Shit. Is she okay? What happened? Is someone hurting her? Did she hurt herself? Is she in danger?

But it didn’t matter. He tried to ask her, but she just ran off– the school day wasn't even over and she ran off. That was the worst possible way that could have gone. What had he been thinking, grabbing her like that? He wasn’t even angry at her, but that’s what it probably looked like.

And she was hurt

He should go after her. Right now. Forget class. Forget everything else.

But before he could take a step, someone clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“C’mon, dude, bell rang,” one of his teammates said, pulling him toward the gym.

Lucas barely registered the words.

Max was gone.

Shit.. .

For the whole of the next class Lucas could barely focus, that conversation he and Max had earlier was replaying in the boys mind, wondering what he could have done better

 His usual go-to was Will, but Will was halfway across the country. He couldn’t exactly call and say, Hey, Max is acting weird, and I think she’s in trouble. What do I do?

Maybe Dustin? No, Dustin was smart, but he’d probably try to turn this into some dramatic, over-the-top mission.

 Steve? No, Steve would just tell him to “give her space” or some stupid shit he probably got from a book on how to “get women.”

Mike? No. he shouldn't even be an option.

So what the hell was he supposed to do?

Notes:

chaptrr 3 and 4 coming soon...

Chapter 3: solivagant

Summary:

Solivagant
noun. so·​liv·​a·​gant. sōˈlivəgənt.
plural -s. : a solitary wanderer.

Notes:

sorry this one is a bit short i was super busy but i wanna post a new chapter :p

Max had ended up lying there in the dirt for hours.

It had to have been at least five, maybe more, since she ran from Lucas. The sun had already sunk below the horizon, casting long shadows over her. The temperature had dropped from the heat of the day.

But finally, she sat up. Her face was stiff with dried tears. Her hair clung to her forehead, greasy with sweat and a headache caused by dehydration from crying. She should have brought water with her.

She barely felt real. It was like her body had been hijacked, like she was nothing more than a spectator watching from the outside. Every movement—every breath—felt disconnected, slow, like someone else was controlling her limbs while she just... existed.

Her muscles ached with a dull, tired pain, remnants of her long run from school. It wasn’t the sharp kind of pain that screamed for attention, but the deep, lingering exhaustion that settled into her bones. She didn’t even remember stopping. Just running. 

Now, she was here. At the quarry.

The wind stirred every few minutes, sending ripples across the water below. They were small, barely there, like the whole world was holding its breath with her. She watched them, unfocused, as if waiting for something to break the stillness. But nothing would.

Reaching up, she pulled the hair tie from the end of her falling out plait. Her ginger hair unravelled in uneven waves before she slicked it back into a mid ponytail.  She hissed through her teeth as her injured arm protested the motion. That’s when she realized—she didn’t even remember why she had chosen to go there. Not really. It was just... instinct. Her feet had carried her, but her mind hadn’t caught up.

She glanced at the water again. The moonlight reflected off the water, if only every day could be this beautiful . Max took a deep breath in then out, standing up and readjusting herself. Starting the slow, long, trek back to her house. She really didn't want to go home– and to be honest, her mom wouldn't have noticed– but she felt disgusting and needed a shower.

And if she was being honest, the walk home was mildly enjoyable. She never had the mental energy to force herself out the house to go on walks or skate anymore, but today she remembers why she always used to. It's calming and usually pain free, but today’s an exception. 

Hawkins is oddly quiet at night for how chaotic it's known to be, you can't even hear a car in the distance tonight. The only noise is coming from diners and the occasional house she passes on the way. 

She had made a point of not going past any of the parties houses– it's not worth the risk. On the same train of thought, she reminisces on how she used to be able to show up at their houses at any time of day and be welcomed in.

 But in what now felt like minutes she was snapped from her thoughts as her feet turned to where she lived, slowing down a bit to get to her house. unlocking the door quietly so as to not wake her mother, even if she knew that lady was a heavy sleeper, and bolting straight to her room after kicking her converse off by the door.

Max’s room was her safe place, where she spent most of her time, no matter what, and her bed was calling her, but she couldn't just yet. She threw her jacket to the ground and opened her drawers to grab a clean set of pyjamas and reached to the back to get new bandaging for her arm. Steadily walking to the bathroom and laying down her pile of items on the toilet seat before flicking on the light. 

Turning on the shower to let it heat up while she undressed and brushed out her auburn hair, seeing how tired and disgusting she looked in the mirror. She can barely recognise herself some days.  

Unravelling her bandaged arm and stepping into the shower felt like heaven, the water grazing her body was an unexplainable feeling. The feeling was interrupted by the familiar sting of water on fresh cuts, she knew this pain by now but it would never get less annoying. Then why do I keep doing it? was something she would often ask herself. There isn't a reason to give.

She does her best to ignore it and enjoy the scalding hot water as she scrubbed off what felt like layers of dirt from her skin, lathering up shampoo in her hair and rinsing it off to feel clean again. 

Notes:

kudos and comments apretiated!! i giggle whenever i get a notification from them

 

beta-d by my amazing luvly JD

Notes:

kudos and comments r vv apretiated :D
you can critisise just dont b mean about it please..

beta-d by my amazing beautiful JD !!