A/N: Ok, so this is my new story. Thanks for checking it out!

It's going to switch from Fang's POV to Max's every chapter. This first chapter is Fang the next one will be Max. It's kind of a little deeper than anything I've written before so I hope you guys like it.

Alright I just really want you guys to read it so READ!

I looked down at my shrilling phone. Dread filled my veins accompanied by too many sad emotions and a flicker of happiness. I still had her picture set with her contact that I've never gotten the courage to delete. Her picture was one of her at fourteen. Back when we were nothing but friends. She was smiling at me, something that never happens now. I think it's because it's too painful for her. At least that's my reason for not talking to her; my reason for hating her most of the time. I watched the phone shake on my desk. Her smile never changed and neither did her expression. I longed to go back to that time, when we were simple and life was simple. I watched and watched the phone ring and the longer I watched the more painful it became to ignore it. Finally, I slid to answer and waited. After a minute of silence, I pulled the phone to my ear.

"Hello," I said.

It took her a minute and then, "Hey. I-I need you."

It wasn't new. We did this to each other all the time. I've tried to justify it in many different ways, but what it always came down to was the comfort. She was the only one who understood what it was like. She was the only one who felt like they had cut out a part of their heart. She was only one who lay awake at night, just like me, letting the guilt and the 'what ifs' haunt them until they had to call someone.

Then I would call her or she would call me on the nights when it got really bad. The nights when we wanted to cry and beg God to just, please, let us take it back. Let us just go back. Let us be together. I would tease her about it and she would tease me about it. We would share cold, insensitive words about it. Something about being horny or being a booty call, but, for me at least, it was always something more. It was a way for us to remember; to remember and have it not be so painful. So even though we were cruel to each other before and after, and we didn't talk at school, and we didn't so much as say 'I love you' after, we got together on those bad nights.

I never felt guilty about it either. I should feel guilty. I should know better than to let us do something so intimate so easily. I should feel bad about cheating on my girlfriend. I should feel bad for letting her cheat on her boyfriend. But I didn't feel bad, not yet at least. I didn't think of it as cheating. I thought of it as therapy, as comfort. I didn't do it for the pleasure, I had a girlfriend for that, I did it because it made me feel better. It made me feel like I wasn't alone. It made me hate myself just a little less.

"I'll be over in twenty," I told her. Then I heard the dial tone of her phone and the call was over.

I looked down at my chemistry homework. It's due tomorrow and I'm not even close to being done. I slammed my binder shut on the worksheet and stood up. I grabbed my car keys from my dresser and slipped out my door. I walked down my stairs without making a sound and slithered through my house soundlessly.

I slipped on my shoes by the door and with a quiet pull of the front door I was out into the dark night. The air was wet and heavy on me. The night was muggy after a long day of rain and it made me feel sticky. I looked over at my car and then back at my house. I prayed that my parents had actually fallen asleep and then got in the car and turned it on. I winced and looked at the house again. I've never been caught before, but I can't let my guard down. I would be dead if I got caught sneaking out, especially on a school night.

I quickly drove out of the driveway and flipped on my high beams. The roads were quiet and relaxing. I allowed myself to relax into my heated seat. The weather is already cooling down and it's only the beginning of October.

I pulled into her driveway and quickly shut off my car. I looked at her house, the open window to her room and the light left on in that very room. The rest of the house was quiet and dark. I knew I could navigate the whole thing in the dark, though. I spent my childhood at this house. That was before we grew up and we grew together and then we grew apart. That was before everything that could go wrong, went wrong.

I slipped out of my car and walked to her back door and called her.

"Coming," she said. I hung up and waited by the door. Her parent's room was on the other side of the house from this door and I could sneak in without being heard.

A minute later the door was opened and she looked up at me meekly.

"Hey there, fuck buddy," I said coldly.

She just looked at me impassively. Finally, I walked past her and up the hall to the stairs. I heard the pad of her bare feet walking behind me and I smirked a little to myself. When we reached her room I tugged off my shirt and threw it to the ground. I heard the soft click as she shut her door and locked it.

I turned to face her. No one sees her like this at school. No one ever sees the girl that's been through as much as she has. No one sees her cry or hurt or think about what could have been. They see a blond haired girl with a bright smile and the best sarcasm they've ever heard. They see the tomboy in jeans and a t-shirt.

They don't see what I see. They don't see a toothy grin at the top of a tree. They don't see their best friend running through the sprinkler. They don't see the biggest mistake they ever made. They don't see a scared girl with circles under her eyes and a tremble in her hand as she reaches for their skin as a distraction.

I guess that's ok though, because sometimes I wish I didn't see it either. Sometimes I wish that we never became friends all those years ago and that we never loved each other. Sometimes I wish I just saw Maximum Ride, the blond haired girl with a sharp tongue, instead of Max, the girl who I've loved with everything I've had since we were little kids and who I share some of the best and worst memories of my life with. Because, maybe, if I didn't know her, my life wouldn't be so painful. Maybe if I never loved her, if I never cared, I wouldn't feel so much now. But to not know Max would be to not know myself. If someone went into my head and took away all my memories of Max, I don't think I would even know who I was anymore. My sense of self is so dependent on this girl that it would be like changing my face.

I looked her over steadily. I looked at the bed. I looked at her silver toenails. She's painted her toenails that color since we were four years old. Then finally I met her eyes. She reached for me and grabbed me by my belt loops. Then I felt her lips. I could remember then. I could remember what it felt like to kiss her the very first time, when we were only fourteen. I could remember laying in the grass talking about how we were going to grow up to do grand things. I could remember coughing as we shared a cigarette and vowed to never try it again. I could remember twirling her around in the kitchen late at night to Elton John. I could remember what it felt like to be with her, in the most intimate way, for the very first time. Now here we are years later, about dehumanize each other. Back then, the first time, when we were young and we believed, we made love. Now, all we do is remember.

A/N: I'm going to try and update once a week, twice a week is just unrealistic. Currently it's set out to be 18 chapters exactly but I might add some in, but that's just a rough estimate.

Review and tell me if you like it and you want to see more or if I should quit now and start something different.