Chapter Text
A freshman mixer is hardly a place where you make best friends. Especially if you’re Lucas Sinclair. He already has Mike Wheeler, resident dungeon master, who is surprisingly good at making brownies (not the funny kind!). Dustin Henderson is a loveable weirdo but he annoyingly stacks facts about things nobody cares about (like penguins), and last of all, Will Byers who is way too good to be hanging out with them.
The mixer is 80’s themed so naturally, people are dressed accordingly. Lucas himself looks ridiculous in a denim vest over a tucked white shirt. He borrowed the vest from his sister who went as Woody from Toy Story last Halloween.
“Dude, check out the ceiling. It’s like, translucent,” Dustin laughs as he says it, pointing up.
“I think it's just, the sky.” Mike says, wrapping an arm around Dustin’s shoulder.
Dustin looks at them, puzzled. Will sighs, dejected. “It’s an open space, man.”
“What if it rains?” Dustin asks.
Lucas pays no mind to the boys standing behind him. Unlike them, he looked forward to this night. He hoped it would give him a glimpse into the next four years in college. The word seemed unfamiliar on his tongue. Or maybe it was the bitter aftertaste of the joint they smoked outside before coming. Dustin said it helps with nerves. Lucas isn’t sure about that anymore. But the place feels warm, and dewy. It’s going to be a good night.
Lucas scans around the place, looking for something he could do. Root beer fountain is a hard pass. Guys surrounding that area are all wearing turtle necks. Is that a cult requirement? He looks past that. There’s also a nachos stand, and people near it are dressed in non-turtlenecks. Absolutely, yes.
Walking is what he does best. Only second to abandoning his friends somewhere. Will is within his periphery and as long as he’s there, the rest of them are fine. Probably.
Lucas spent all of his high school years studying and playing basketball. Truthfully, he’s not sure why he was so hard on himself. No one seemed to care about it as much as he did. Lucas also never really had a girlfriend. Sure, he’s made out in places that are definitely not appropriate (His mother would frown if she knew what he did with a girl in the confessional. He’s not proud of it either.) But dating isn’t something that comes naturally to him.
Unlike Dustin and Mike who are in committed relationships. Although they complain an awful lot about it, Lucas is envious of them. What do they know that he doesn’t? But that’s a thought for another day. Maybe never.
The first thing Lucas notices as he walks forward to the nachos stand is a heap of hair. It’s moving around, possibly swaying to music. It looks shaky, like it’s laughing. And there are other people talking to it. The hair comes alive then, startling Lucas.
Girl. It’s a girl.
The unknown girl raises an eyebrow at him. “Can I help you?” She asks.
Lucas extends his hand. Is that how people still talk?
“I’m Lucas. Lucas Sinclair.”
The girl smiles a little then, and shakes his hand. “Cool it, 007. I’m Max Mayfield.”
“Is that— uh, is that your real hair colour?” Lucas asks, dazed.
Max stares at him in disbelief. “No,” she says, “it’s red from exposure to radiation.”
“Oh—“ Lucas stammers, “like Spiderman. Spider-girl. Spider-woman?”
Max looks at him, amused. “You’re not very bright, are you?”
Lucas cocks his head up, slightly offended. “I was the valedic, no, uh, valedi— valeditorian. Yeah. Just, I’m smart.”
Max throws her head back, laughing. It’s a pretty sound. She’s so pretty.
“I’m just messing with you, dumbass.”
Lucas stares down at the ground, sheepishly. And then he looks at her with a glint in his eyes and a painful realisation that he kind of wants to marry this mean, gorgeous redhead. Oh, shit.
Don't say it don’t say it don’t say it don’t—
“I love you.”
Max splutters around her bowl of nachos. Just then another man emerges from behind her. He’s not cute like Max. He's broody, and blonde and pretty okay to look at. Not really his type.
Suddenly he’s being shoved back by the not-nice blonde.
“Stay away from her, alright?”
Lucas just nods, looking at Max one last time. She doesn’t say anything, but there’s something different about her eyes now. Just then Mike and Will are beside him, ushering him out. Not before cursing the blonde guy.
They pull him aside then.
“What the hell were you thinking?” Mike asks. He has his hand around his hip. He looks like his dad, with that same disappointed glare.
“You could’ve seriously been beaten up,” Will says, sitting by his side.
“Max,” Lucas then says, looking at his hands.
“Dude, what?” Will asks, confusion written all over his face.
“I was just talking to Max. I mean, she’s. Yeah, she is.”
Dustin follows them outside then, yelling about having drank the best root beer ever. It was the cue for them to go back to their dorms. It was a good night.
When Lucas woke up the next morning, it felt like being hit by a ton of bricks. And a final grenade. He rolls around in his mattress, and falls to the ground. It wakes up Mike, his unfortunate roommate.
Lucas rubs at his eyes, squinting at the sunlight. His blanket is over his head as he makes his way to the bathroom.
“Jesus, what was in that joint?” Lucas asks, mumbling around the toothbrush. His mouth is weirdly dry and his tongue feels heavy. Lucas has never been this grossed out by himself.
Mike grumbles. “You went insane. I don’t even want to talk about it.”
Lucas spits the toothpaste, rinsing his mouth. “What do you mean?”
Mike laughs, disbelieving. “The whole ‘I’ve found my soulmate’ bit?”
Lucas pauses, trying to recall what happened. Soulmate?
His eyebrows shoot up at the epiphany.
Max.
“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” Lucas says as he paces around the room in circles. Mike is unbothered by his meltdown. He’s reading a book in the corner of the room as Lucas’ mind spirals.
“She must think I’m a creep!” He cries.
Mike sighs, flipping a page. “Can you blame her? Who confesses their undying love for someone they met two minutes ago?”
“Clearly someone who was baked!”
Mike chuckles at the memory of Lucas last night. “I’ve never heard of a worse ‘first time stoned’ story.”
He groans, looking at the time on their mounted clock. Seven forty-five. Lucas grabs his backpack from the side of his desk and runs out the room. It’s officially the worst first day anyone has ever had. And the day has barely started.
Lucas Sinclair has always been fascinated by physics. It started when he was seven. His father had taken him to a planetarium to cheer him up after he was bullied in school. Lucas can’t recall the reason why. He was alright one second, and there was a scar on his forehead the next. When his father suggested the idea, he wasn’t very keen on it. All he wanted was to play on his Nintendo and never go to school again. But there he was, a wide eyed little dude, staring above at some nebula, gaseous giants, and galaxies he couldn’t yet pronounce. He knew then, that was his spark. So he obsessively spent his days at the library, researching the subject. His parents thought his interest would wear off but it never did. He branched out to other kinds of physics, too. (He’s intrigued by relativity, he gets by thermodynamics, but he hates biophysics.)
You can say he’s a very versatile individual.
Ultimately, here he is. At a university far away from everything he knows, majoring in astrophysics. Or trying to, as he sprints towards his first class.
Lucas isn’t entirely doomed for eternity when he enters class in time. Linear algebra. Linear algebra helps in defining some very basic objects. Apples, oranges, bananas, girls. And after these objects (sometimes, non-object, human-nebulous) are defined, you perform basic operations on them. Counting, for instance. Or figuring out how many times Lucas can apologise to a girl for asking her hand in marriage a few seconds after meeting her. The unfortunate fact of life is that not everything can be represented in the form of a matrix. And thereby, solved.
Another unfortunate fact of life is that this is the rawest explanation of linear algebra. A five year old could understand linear systems this way. Lucas feels a throat clearing in his direction. He looks up to see the professor staring at him with a frown on his face.
“Mr. Sinclair, could you recall what ‘closure’ means with regard to vector spaces?”
Lucas blinks.
The professor moved on, and the nosy students stopped staring, but Lucas was embarrassed nonetheless.
The rest of his classes go by smoothly. At least, as smooth as it can be. And he made a couple of friends, too. Lucas even considers joining the basketball team when he sees the poster for open tryouts outside the door to the cafeteria. He almost headbutts a guy when the door swings open.
It’s Mike.
“Holy shit, man,” Mike says, swinging his backpack over one shoulder. Lucas walks beside him. He’s not that hungry anymore.
“Classes okay?” Mike asks, reaching down his bag for a stack of papers.
“Yeah. Pretty good, actually,” Lucas says. It’s the truth.
They take a seat in one of the benches at the campus garden. Lucas needed this fresh air so much. They’re then joined by the rest of the party. Dustin recounts an incident involving either a huge water fountain or a kool-aid. Too much time has passed since to ask for clarification. He’s not sure he wants to hear it either way.
“Hey,” Will pokes him on the shoulder, “You keep zoning out.”
Lucas nods.
“A little distracted, sorry.”
“What are you thinking about?,” Dustin asks. He looks concerned, almost.
“Closure,” Lucas responds, fidgeting with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. When the boys ask him to elaborate, he decides to say it against his better will.
“There is a concept in linear space called “closure.” That means your operations on your objects derive something among your objects,” Lucas says, ignoring the confused faces, “In other words, everything you do is just another point in the same unfolding space.
Mike speaks up first after a brief interval of silence. “Are you debating nihilism… on the first day of college?”
Will chides Mike, flicking him on the neck, “Am I the only one who noticed he’s still high?”
“I’m not high,” Lucas exclaims, rubbing his forehead. These headaches have been a recent development. Ever since graduation to be precise. “And it’s not nihilism. My professor asked me about it today and I was too nervous to answer. So, I’ve been thinking about it the entire day.”
Dustin who’s been quiet the entire time speaks up. “I’m pretty sure something else is up,” he says, “I mean, this concept is quite elementary for us. We went to college level lectures after calc II.”
Lucas groans then. Dustin is right. They’re all smart in their own peculiar way. Will is into art, Mike is into literature and Lucas and Dustin have been the ones to go to math camp every summer. In high school, they both studied algebra II like it was an elixir.
“So tell us, man,” Will says.
“I’m just really nervous about this whole situation with Max. I mean, I said that in front of her boyfriend!” Lucas says, clearly ashamed. “I kept thinking ‘what if I run into her?’ or ‘is it too late to switch schools?’”
Dustin dusts off his hands, and looks intently at Lucas like he’s scheming something. “You know, the possibility of someone running into a wall and making it to the other side is infinitesimal,” he says, “pretty impossible unless you’re somehow running at the speed of light.”
Lucas nods, “quantum tunelling.”
“Yes, child,” Dustin says, “Exactly that.”
Will interrupts him, “Dustin having a girlfriend feels pretty similar to those odds.”
Mike fist bumps with Will in agreement.
Dustin ignores them, “My point is that you can never recover from this humiliation. At least, not unless you actually talk to her.”
“You just said the chances of making it through is close to impossible,” Lucas recalls, “what if I hit the wall?”
“Then you hit it gloriously,” he simply responds.
Lucas stays awake in his bed that night, mulling over the conversation he had with his friends. Robert Frost said “the best way out is through,” and at the moment, Lucas wanted to kill the poet, if he wasn’t already dead. What happened isn’t really a big deal per se. He shouldn’t be thinking about it so much. However he feels like he betrayed himself somehow. He’d been looking forward to going to college ever since he can remember. Lucas feels like he messed it all up too soon. His thoughts then drift towards Max. Her frowny face, her hair, her voice. They would’ve made good friends.
The next few days go by significantly better. Lucas and his friends have adapted to campus life really well. They surprisingly even remembered to do laundry at the end of the week. There is a laundromat down the street which is almost always crowded. But they can’t keep switching up the same two clean shirts and they’re close to an underwear shortage so Mike and Lucas decide to go into battle on a Saturday night.
Mike steps out of their shared room weaning khaki shorts, and a tank top which looks like it could be his girlfriend’s. They’re each carrying two bags of dirty clothes, and Lucas has a plastic bag filled with detergent and dryer sheets swung over his neck. It did feel like getting ready for war. Unlike Mike, who grew up in a household where he didn’t have to do any work around the house (Lucas knows, he spent most of his life in Mike Wheeler's basement), Lucas’ mother made chore charts for him and his sister, Erica. And laundry is usually the easiest on the list. This shouldn’t be a problem.
The doors to the laundromat swung open, and Mike’s jaw almost dropped to the floor. It was a dingy room lit by fluorescent lights. The washing machines made a rumbling-tumbling sound which hurt their ears. Worst of all, the people were so fucking loud. The lady next to them was yelling on the phone, there was a dad on the other end trying to discipline what is presumably his kids.
“Oh, my god,” Mike exclaims, “if I die here, please take care of Cathy.”
Lucas rolls his eyes. He spots a machine that is about to be empty. The guy occupying it is unloading his clothes, thankfully. He grabs Mike’s arm as they rush towards it. Just when the guy is done, they reach toward the door of the washer when another hand does the same. Lucas might have been a grade A wimp, but he felt like his entire life was building up to this moment. He closed his eyes, willing himself to tell off the person who is clearly trying to weasel in.
He looks at them. She looks awfully familiar. Oh, no.
“Max,” both Mike and Lucas say at the same time. Max’s eyes widen, her hand loosens the grip on the washer. Just then, Mike maneuvers the handle and dumps their clothes in it, not-so smoothly. He then rummages his wallet for quarters. The chime of quarters hitting the floor wakes up Lucas and Max from their daze. Lucas looks away from her, cheeks red.
Max then clears her throat before curling her fists. She looks at Mike angrily, “I can’t believe you, asshole!” she exclaims, “It was my turn.”
Mike shrugs, nonchalantly. “Too bad, slowpoke,” he says, “maybe you would’ve gotten to it if you weren’t busy eyeing my friend here.”
Max grunts, stomping her feet to the ground. She turns her around to face Lucas now, who is as terrified as he looks. “You,” she points at him, “this is all your fault.”
Lucas stands there, watching her leave out the door. All his instincts point towards following her but he's unsure if Max wants to see him again. It’s like the universe keeps finding out ways to fuck it up everytime they run into each other.
Mike nudges his shoulder, “Angry redhead left her laundry.”
Lucas looks down at the ground. A raggedy bag filled with clothes is lying by their feet.
He knows what to do.
Lucas runs out of the laundromat. Max couldn’t have gotten that far. Especially since she would’ve noticed her missing laundry. He realises he’s right when he spots her on a curb in the alleyway behind the laundromat. She’s not alone, though.
“Hey, cat-whisperer,” he says, taking a seat beside her on the pavement. She’s surrounded by at least five cats who are eating off her hand. She turns to look at him briefly, before stroking one of the cats.
“I’m more of a dog person,” she says willfully like it’s a crime. Max shares some of the cat treats with him. She explains that it’s a homemade wafer infused in tuna. As he extends his hand out, most of the animals prefer Max except for one. It looks ugly and fat. He kind of wants to take it home.
The cats are soon bored by them. They express their gratitude by yawning at their faces and leaving one by one. Soon it’s just Max and Lucas sitting side by side. “I don’t like your friend,” Max says suddenly.
Lucas chuckles, “Mike? He takes a while to grow on people.”
“Not because of what happened today,” she says.
Lucas raises an eyebrow, willing her to continue.
“We share a geopolitics class. He’s too cocky knowing he’s wrong,” she complains, " I hate his stupid face.”
Mike never mentioned it to him. That must be why he was so comfortable arguing with her. He did instantly recognise Max.
“If it’s any consolation,” Lucas offers, “he’s doing your laundry right now.”
Max looks around, probably searching for her bag. She sighs in defeat when it’s nowhere to be seen. She dusts her hands. “It does help. Thank you.”
Lucas shakes his head. “I kind of owe you.”
Max then laughs a little, remembering the incident that happened at the night of the mixer. “You owe me so much more, valedictorian.”
“Can I make up for it over coffee tomorrow morning?”
Max smirks, clearly not expecting it. She takes a pen from her pocket and grabs his hand. He ignores the way it makes his heart leap from having her so close to him. She scrawls her number in his hand and closes the cap of the pen.
“Don’t forget to bring my clothes tomorrow, Lucas,” she says before waving goodbye.
Yeah, like he was saying, laundromats are incredible.
“You’re in a suspiciously good mood,” Mike notices when they get back to their room. Lucas looks at Max’s number written in his palm. He saves it to his phone before it gets washed away. He thought back to when she held his hand. He can still feel the warmth in his wrist. Pathetic.
“I think Max and I are okay now,” he responds, “which is no thanks to you.”
Lucas yelps when Mike throws a crumbled piece of paper on his head. “I washed her clothes and paid for it! And I really don’t like her. I did it for you.”
Lucas turns to face Mike. “How come you never mentioned that she was in your class?”
“I don’t know,” Mike hums, “I didn’t think you’d want to see her again.”
Lucas shakes his head, smiling. “I really do.”
Lucas fidgets with his phone, wondering whether or not he should text her. If he does, would it seem too desperate? But she did give him her number for a reason. What if it was a fake number?
Mike groans, “shut the fuck up! If you don’t text her, I’ll do it myself.” Mike mumbles to himself, “goddamn it, I should’ve never meddled.”
Lucas’ jaw closes shut. He didn’t realise he was thinking out loud. But even though Mike is an asshole, he’s right.
Lucas:
Hey
This is Lucas
Max:
hello there
are you going to confess your feelings this time
or steal my clothes
Lucas:
Neither, I promise
Max:
aw :(
i guess i’ll be the judge of it tmrw
meet me at 10 near wing C
Lucas:
Yes ma’am
Max:
don’t be late valedictorian
Lucas:
Wouldn’t dream of it
The cafe is a small place close to the campus called “soup-sized” but they don’t sell soup of any kind. And according to Max, they serve the best affogato.
“That isn’t even coffee,” Lucas says, pointing at Max’s drink. It’s vanilla ice cream drowned in a couple shots of espresso. It’s Max’s favourite drink. Lucas makes a mental note of that.
“Of course it is,” she claims, offended. “I don’t think you’re in any position to judge, Lucas. You’re drinking black coffee. That’s gross.”
“Maybe,” Lucas admits, “but it has the word ‘coffee’ in it,” he argues, lamely.
Max laughs it off and Lucas is glad she’s still here. “You know,” she starts, “you aren’t at all what I expected.”
Lucas smirks. “I find that hard to believe. Seriously.”
Max shakes her head, still smiling. “I mean, I don’t know. You’re weirdly hilarious, and you’re super nerdy. It’s cute, I guess. Or maybe I’m crazy.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Lucas agrees. He’s crazy too, with the way he can’t stop thinking about the distance between them. The same whiff of lavender floats in the air.
“I think we’re going to get along, Lucas Sinclair,” she says, “we’re best friends now.”
“No takebacks,” she adds, cheekily.
Lucas crosses his heart. If Max wanted to pretend they were two unicorns riding in rainbow city, he’d be down for that too.
“Come on,” he says, leaving a few bills on the table for their drink, “I’m going to show you the greatest movie ever made and you’re going to love it.”
Max willingly follows him outside. “Do I have to love it?”
“Absolutely, yes.”
The movie they end up watching in Lucas’ dorm is Primer. Lucas, Max, and Mike are squeezed together in his single bed, with the laptop propped over the comforter. Not only did Max love the surreal sci-fi movie about time travelling (not out of obligation!), she also made amends with Mike.
Lucas turns to see that Max had fallen asleep on his shoulder mid conversation while the credits of the film were rolling. Mike, who was on the other side of Lucas, smirked at him. That little shit. Lucas rolled his eyes, tapping Max’s other shoulder gently to wake her up. It was cute to see her curled up. He hoped that she couldn't hear the loud thud of his heart at the sight.
When she woke up and was out of his bed, Lucas missed the warmth. She hugged Mike goodbye while putting on her boots and Lucas offered to walk her back to the dorm. Her wing is all the way across but he wants to do it. Besides, he’ll take any excuse to spend time with Max.
“The ambiguity was crucial! The contingency loops had no singular outcome,” Lucas goes on a tangent about the movie they just watched, walking beside her. His arm brushes hers every now and then which makes his stomach flutter. Maybe he’s coming down with something.
Max shrugs. “I kinda agree with Abel,” she says, creating friction between her palms to warm it up. It’s particularly chilly that night and Lucas holds in the urge to take her hands. “What he did was damage control.”
Lucas’ eyes widen comically and he stops in his tracks. “You, Max Mayfield,” he says, breathlessly, “I think I’m about to confess again.”
Max laughs, swatting his arm. “I beg you to not.”
“I’ve always said that about Abel! Even Dustin doesn’t get me,” he says, “you’re something.”
“Glad to know I’m not entirely dense about science fiction shit,” she chuckles.
Max majors in psychology. She told him that she wants to specialise in clinical psychology. Lucas thinks Max is intelligent enough to do anything. Even understand niche science fiction shit.
“You’re smart like that. Don’t let it go to your head, though,” he jokes. Max swats his arm again. He weirdly enjoys seeing the way her cheeks go red. He’s afraid that there are a lot more reasons to be absolutely enthralled by Max Mayfirled.
“Well, this is me,” Max says, standing outside her dorm room. She lingers for a second, before reaching forward to press a light kiss on his cheek. His heart tugs at that.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, valedictorian,” she says with a smirk, before the door is closed. Lucas stands there for a while, raising a hand to his face, trying to remember the way she got on her toes to kiss him. He wonders if the indent of her lips is etched to his skin forever.
A single teaspoon of neutron star weighs almost as much as all the humans combined on earth. From a distant point, this feeling of Max’s lips against his skin is so, so insignificant, the scientists would round it off. But Lucas isn’t a scientist, yet. He’s a boy holding a neutron star in the palm of his hands.