Chapter 2: Chapter 2
The ride home was tense, to say the least. Max sat in the passenger seat and Vincent in the driver. They both sat in silence, except for Vincent's playlist of his favorite Russian songs. The beat and instrumentals sound good, but he had no idea what the words meant, he felt out of place.
Earlier today, he found out he shared a few lectures with Vincent. It was nice to know he could find him easily, but it was also embarrassing. He kept staring at him, entranced by his beauty and personality. He didn't know everything about him now, but he could tell he might be likable.
The one thing he thought was weird was: that when Vincent went to answer a question, he zoned out and asked what the question was. Max was confused, but his professor acted like it was a common occurrence, which it wasn't. Everybody in the past lectures always answered the question immediately, or just forget what they were saying.
At the end of Max's classes, he went to the parking lot, as Vincent asked him to do. He saw Vincent leaning against a black Chevy that obviously had a lift kit applied and massive wheels. When Max tried to get in, Vincent had to pick him up and throw him in. Max couldn't figure out if that was a benefit or a drawback of being 5'3".
Vincent turned down his music and side-eyed Max. "Where are we going again? You said you needed to stop somewhere first, right?"
"Ah, yeah. I got an order for my mom's birthday cake at Sinfully Sweet Treats, it's down Johansen Expy, and then turn a right on Slater Drive." Max smiled, knowing the five-star bakery was the best place to go, he knew the baker personally.
"Oh, it's your mother's birthday? How old is she?" Vincent asked, stopping the car at a red light. He quickly grabbed his phone and completely turned off his music.
"She's 43," Max replied quickly. He looked out the window and saw groups of friends walking together and laughing. He felt a slight pain of loneliness in his heart, but it brushed away as the truck moved forward.
Vincent hummed, his mouth turning upwards slightly. Max wondered what he was thinking about. "Let's play a modified version of 20 questions, to know more about each other," Vincent suggested, turning his head to Max for a second.
Max chuckled, looking over at his occupant. "All right, I'll go first. Did you live in Russia before moving here?"
"Yes," Vincent countered, thinking of his next question. "Let's see, have you lived in Alaska your whole life?"
"Yeah, it's boring, but it's my home." Max said, "Okay, in Economics today, why did you zone out in the middle of a question?"
Vincent was quiet for a minute, stopping at another red light. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, Max felt he did something wrong. "I was changing alters. I have D.I.D." Vincent finally said, putting his eyes back on the road. "Dissociative Identity Disorder is a reaction to trauma to help avoid bad memories. That leads to different personalities developing, either when you first get it or later in life. I and Dmitri usually are the hosts, and we take turns forwarding during school hours. The others forward at separate times."
"Oh! I'm sorry if I offended you or anything! I didn't know!" Max said, feeling broken and apologetic. He wanted to curl up and hide.
"It's fine. Hey, is this the place?"
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The cake that was in Max's lap was… it was stunning! Max couldn't stop looking at it! It was a vanilla cake with dark green frosting as the base. On the top was a sunflower made of frosting. Brown dots of frosting made up the disk floret, and a bright yellow made the ray floret. And the baker somehow made the rays bend up and over others like an actual flower. Max was pretty sure Vincent was amazed by it too, always catching him stealing glances at the cake. Even catching him whisper under his breath, "I now know where to go to get cakes."
After about ten minutes of driving, they made it to Max's house. Max opened the car door and looked out; the ground seemed so far from his feet. He clutched the cake and closed the door sweating. "What's the matter? This is your house, correct?"
"Y…Yeah! It's just…" Max gulped, looking over to Vincent. His eyes were searching his, trying to find his fear. Max closed his eyes, took a deep breath in, then out. "I have a fear of heights."
Vincent sighed, opened his door, and got out. Max watched him in inquisitiveness, watching the door close. The sound of clicking and the door opening beside him made him turn around. Vincent was there holding the door open and staring at Max. "Stand up, put the cake on the seat, and close your eyes. Got it?"
Max was confused but nodded his head anyway. He did as told, and when he finally closed his eyes, he felt two big and strong hands under his armpits. Vincent lifted him and put him on the sidewalk beside him. When Max felt his feet hit the ground, he opened his eyes again. Vincent had his back to him, getting the cake on the passenger seat. When he finally got it, he turned around and gave it to Max. "Thank you, Vincent. I didn't feel that was necessary."
"No, it's okay. Since I'm already out, would you mind if I wished your mother a happy birthday?" Vincent asked, the slightest blush on his face as he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. Max chuckled, "Sure, why not? My father is still at work so nobody will have to suffer his dad jokes."
"Hey, what's wrong with dad jokes? My dad likes them, and so do I!" Vincent protested, walking with Max to his front door. Max chuckled going ahead and opening the door.
"Mom! I'm home! And I brought a friend!" Max yelled entering his house, not bothering to take his shoes off. Max looked back to see Vincent awkwardly standing there. "What's up Vincent?"
"Do you want me to take off my shoes? I know here in the US the sidewalks are not that dirty." Vincent asked, standing there in the mudroom still as the coat rack next to him.
"No, it's fine. You'll only be in here for a minute, right?" Max smiled, his mother tumbling her way to him. He turned around and smiled at his mother, hearing Vincent coming up to stand next to him. "Mom, this is Vincent… Poopoov I think? Vincent, this is my mother."
"It's Popov, Max. It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Smiths." Vincent corrected, holding out his hand to shake hers. When he noticed the white and red walking stick, he went to grab her hand, and politely kissed the knuckles, bowing slightly. "May I say you are a beacon of beauty. В твоих глазах кусочек неба; in your eyes is a piece of the sky."
"Wow, what a gentleman!" Max's mother chuckled; blush dusted her cheeks as she put a hand over her heart. "You can call me Rebecca darling!"
"Vincent! You trying to hit on my mom?" Max joked, walking to the dining room, and setting the cake in the middle of the table. Max's mood changed as soon as he heard her tiny footsteps hurrying down the steps.
"What's going on? I heard Rebecca getting admiration!" Delilah screeched, stopping as soon as she saw Vincent. "Max! Who's this guy in our house? Why is he helping mom? Did we get a new caretaker?"
"No Delilah, this is my new friend. He drove me home today. By the way, address her as your mother! It's disrespectful to call her by her first name." Max sighed walking back into the hallway. He grimaced when he saw his sister walking around Vincent, judging him. Her outfit didn't change from this morning, the only change being her shoes, from high heels to flats.
"Did you kiss Rebecca's hand?" Max rolled his eyes, it was obvious she ignored his protest. Delilah smiled wide when Vincent nodded his head. She held out her hand, expecting it to be kissed too. "I get to be treated better than her! Make it quick!" She demanded; Max widened his eyes at the anger on Vincent's face as he looked down at the smug brat in front of him.
"Are you disabled? Or old?" Delilah looked shocked, staring up into Vincent's eyes as innocently as she could. "No? Then you're not getting any respectable greeting from me. And a quick word of advice, treat others how you want to be treated. Чертов неблагодарный засранец." Vincent turned to Max; his previous anger was gone. "I'm going to get going Max, I need to go to my job."
"All right, see you tomorrow."
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The sky was a dark blue, streetlights illuminating the road. Frank Palmer sat in his black SUV, he was sitting with his feet on the dash and a clipboard in hand. He just finished a hard case and he was exhausted; his black uniform was slightly undone. His shift was almost over, he just wanted to get home and spend the rest of the night with his wife and kids. He looked up, and his heart started racing. Two people stood in the road, the one on the left was taller and more muscular than the other. The one on the right was shorter but was still muscular. Frank gulped, put his feet down, and hid his clipboard in between the seat and door.
The left one raised their hand to shoulder length and the right one started walking toward him. Frank sat up straight, he tried to keep his eyes on the silhouette but pretended to check his laptop. When the person came up to his window, they lightly knocked on it. Frank finally looked up and saw her, as he rolled down his window.
She was dark-skinned and had green narrow eyes. Black hair was parted into thirds, the ends curling slightly. At the top of her hair sat a purple beanie. "Excuse me, me and my friend want to know where the closest bar is. We're new here and our phones are dead." She sounded innocent enough and Frank felt slightly at ease.
"It's two blocks from where you came from, then right, then a left. It should be on your left." Frank replied, pointing down the road. He smiled looking at her, but it immediately faltered when he looked into her eyes. It was full of malice, hostility, and spite.
"You're… a cop… right?" She said, uncertainty and bitterness both somehow making it into her voice. Frank nodded, slowly reaching for the gun on his belt. She hummed, looking past him, Frank had a gut feeling to look behind him, but he knew he had to keep his eyes on the girl. "It's a shame. Let me tell you something. All cops are bastards."
A gunshot rang through the street. The police scanner going wild with new calls about guns being shot. "Nice job Omen! Does Ivan have the car?" She jumped over the hood of the car, landing on the sidewalk next to him. He wore a white shirt, a black leather jacket, and black pants. He hid his face with a black mask, his eyes barely peeking through.
"Да. Вы должны позвонить ему, хотя. Используйте свою рацию." He talked slowly and precisely. She quickly talked through the walkie-talkie and a Black Chevy Silverado came around the corner. They both got in quickly and left the scene of the crime.
They left the corpse, sitting in the car, slightly hanging out the window. Blood was splattered across the dash, windshield, and seat. Blood dripped out of the hole in the middle of his forehead, his brain slightly peeking out. His eyes were blown open, and his body camera and black box were destroyed. When Frank's fellow officers arrived on the scene, they were astonished by how well the crime was executed. They were left with the burning question: Who did this, and why?
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When Max's father came home, he called Max and Rebecca down. Max knew Delilah was upstairs listening to their conversation, but his dad will never do anything about it. He'll never do anything to his precious daughter. Max sat quietly next to his mother, they both were tense, cowering under his intense gaze. He sat on the other couch, the only thing separating them was the coffee table and the cross on the wall.
"Maxwell, I've heard that you are part of… a community." He grumbled, crossing his arms and legs. Max flinched; he knew this position. He knew what was coming.
"David… Sweetie, please. Whatever the problem is, we can fix it calmly and reasonably!" Rebecca said calmly, she knew what was coming. They all did.
"No, we can't Rebecca! Our son is a faggot! He's disrespecting God!" David yelled, standing up, towering over his wife and kid. "He's disgusting!" Max got up, looking his father in the eyes.
"Dad, where did you hear this? You can't just assume things without evidence!" Max shook under his gaze; he couldn't stand up to his father anymore today. That's his limit.
"I heard it from Susan! Your only friend!" Max's eyes widened, did she really just out him like that? How could she? She knew his parents are Christian!
"Dad. I'm just Bisexual, not full-on gay. That's it." Max said, trying to calm down his father.
"No! That's still bad!"
The rest of the night was filled with screams and yelling from the Smiths' house. No one truly knew what happened that night, but if Max woke up with bruises that morning, no one was going to ask.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone