Written in the Stars

Hiya guys! Well, this is my newest story, and before you read any further I would just like to say that Dylan will be out of character . . . you know what? All my characters will be kind of out of character because 1) they are not the original Max and Fang and 2) they did not go through the same past as the original Max and Fang. So keep that in mind, their backgrounds and such (:

Disclaimer: I don't own Maximum Ride, but I do own this story (: yay

Rating: Strong T; later for language and adult issues

Important: Keep track of the characters' eye colors okay? This is excruciatingly important you have no idea lol.

Noah

A boy raised his head from his painting, watching as men, dressed in navy blue uniforms, walked through the hallways, one of them carrying an unconscious girl in their arms. Her long brown hair dangled in lifeless curls, her skin pale and her cheeks missing its healthy pink blush. The hurried shuffling of feet itself made the boy nervous, and he closed his eyes, gripping his paintbrush tightly in his hand as he murmured a quick prayer.

Rain pounded heavily against the glass windows of the children's hospital, the storm and chaos outside, visible from the inside, doubling the downhearted atmosphere that surrounded the hospital.

A few hours after the girl had been brought in, a dark figure slipped into the room where she rested. The room was larger than most, but there was never really anyone in it besides the girl and the few nurses and doctors that came in and out regularly. The parents of the girl, ironically, were both doctors themselves, but were so caught up in their own troubles at work to have time to visit their daughter. Perhaps that was why the girl had turned out with a rebellious attitude.

"Hey, Max, you asleep?" a voice whispered quietly, gently touching her on the shoulder. He cringed at how cold she felt, even through the layer of her hospital garments, albeit its thinness.

The girl turned in her bed, her chocolate brown eyes coming into direct contact with his emerald green eyes, which were never good in hiding emotion. "Am I ever asleep?" she answered back, a weak smile on her lips. She always tried to conceal the hurt and sorrow she felt when her parents called, informing her that they were too busy to meet her that day. It hurt more than all the medications and treatments she had to endure to get better, the rejection, the loneliness. But amidst all her sadness, she always had someone to cheer her up, and it was the young boy standing at her bedside, his knowing green eyes communicating that he understood her, really understood.

"What happened to you today, Max? When they brought you in, I got so scared, I thought that you – " he trailed off slightly, looking away from her curious big brown eyes, " – I thought I lost you." He glanced down at the piece of paper in his hands that had crumpled a little under his tight grip. "I made you this to cheer you up." The boy smiled nervously as he lifted the white piece of paper, handing it over to her. Max glided her fingertips lightly over the dried paint, feeling the creases and bumps along the way, a smile forming on her lips as she traced around a certain part of the painting. "I know it's not much, but –"

"It's amazing," she breathed, genuinely in awe of her friend's artistic abilities. Then, she looked up from the painting, a silly grin plastered on her face, her white teeth standing out in the dark. "Noah, are we holding hands in the picture?"

He smiled uneasily, his cheeks and the tips of his ears burning. "Not if you don't want us to be," he replied timidly. "I can paint over it if you want."

Max chuckled softly, a siren's song to the boy's ears. "I love it. Now c'mere, I'm cold." She patted the spot beside her on the bed and scooted herself over so that the boy could get in. Normally, Max didn't associate with boys a lot, because she believed that they were immature, and would stay that way until sometime after high school. But Noah was her exception. It was kind of hard not to grow up quickly, considering that there was a chance that they wouldn't make it into adulthood or perhaps even adolescence. She'd always talk about death while he was the optimistic one of the two, always reassuring her that they would make it, that nothing would happen to either of them. He spoke with such confidence in his voice that Max wished she could be as brave as her best friend, but she didn't know that he put on the brave face for her so she wouldn't be scared. But deep inside, they were both terrified of their future because they understood that it wouldn't be a bright and happy one.

~:*:~

Nine years later . . .

A young woman giggled as a man, beside her in bed, leaned over and trailed kisses from her stomach to the underside of her left breast. "Dylan," she warned playfully, tapping the tip of his nose lightly. She gazed at the handsome man before her, his clean-cut brown hair that matched his clear blue eyes perfectly. He whined in response and allowed his tan, lean and toned body to collapse on top of her small one. "Dylan," she breathed, her arms wrapping around his neck as he nuzzled hers. "I need you."

He groaned before rolling them so that she was on top of him. "Maria, we talked about this. You're not healthy enough for sexual intercourse." He stared her straight in the eyes as he spoke, feeling regret that he'd said anything when her big brown eyes briefly turned sorrowful before narrowing at him.

"For once, just once, can you pretend that you're not my doctor? Damn it, Dylan, every time I start forgetting, you're always here to remind me." She unwound her arms around his neck and pushed herself up angrily, feeling like an idiot asking him to make love to her and then getting rejected – again.

He got up quickly and grabbed her hand before she could leave their bed. "Maria," he said softly, squeezing her hand, "it's not that I don't want you. But if something happens to you and it's because of me, I won't ever live it down. Baby, you're everything to me. If I lose you, I lose everything."

"Don't you mean that you'll lose the enormous paycheck that my parents give you to watch over me?" she whispered quietly, but bitterly. "If you don't love me, fine, but don't try and fool me into thinking that you do."

And though she expected it, she couldn't help but feel pain in her heart when he didn't say anything further. When he didn't try and fight for her. The woman glanced at her engagement ring that mocked her from their bedside drawer, and for a moment, she didn't want to leave. But she needed to get away from him. She needed to get away from who she was.

~:*:~

The owner of dark midnight eyes watched whiskey swirling in his glass, before tilting his head and consuming it within one big gulp. It was almost a daily routine to stop by the bar and catch a shot of whiskey, but today, today was different. Because amongst all the drunk men that he'd expect to see, there was a beautiful woman, her brown hair cascading over her shoulders in shiny waves, her chocolate eyes both sweet and mesmerizing, and it was obvious that he wasn't the only one that had caught sight of her, a drunk man watching her in every direction. And it just so happened that only a few minutes ago she'd removed her white pea coat and placed it around the chair next to his. She'd given him a slight smile but he could tell that she wasn't here to associate with anyone, nor was she here to get drunk, but she was here for the same reason he was.

She wanted to forget.

"What do you suggest will hit me the hardest?" she asked him through the loud music.

The man turned, his breath catching in his throat when he'd realized just how gorgeous the woman next to him was. Her smooth, pale skin and her pink lips made him wonder what a girl like her was doing in a bar, made him want to know what was so bad that she wanted desperately to forget. "I'm not sure, do you drink a lot?" When she shook her head and told him that it was her first time, he smirked, curious now. "Well what's the occasion, bad break-up, didn't get the promotion?"

"I just need to forget my name for a while," she answered somberly.

Her answer struck the man hard because it was what he'd said the first time he began drinking too. "Then I recommend you go the old-fashioned way and get a glass of whiskey."

She grinned, forgetting who she was for a split second and said, "If I get drunk, you're not going to take advantage of me are you?"

His eyes widened slightly at her boldness although it was just a conversation-starting joke. "You're not really my type so you have nothing to worry about." When she didn't reply with a flirty comeback like all girls did, he knew he'd made a mistake, automatically judging her without getting to really know her. He didn't know that being rejected – even by a stranger at a local bar – caused the girl to feel unwanted. "Look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way. It's just that –"

"It's fine," she interjected. "I'm used to it." And she was, her parents rejected her all her life.

And she was sick of it.

He extended out his hand, "I'm Fang, the asshole of this bar." This was the man's take on lightening up the tense air, because he honestly didn't mean any harm when he'd said that she wasn't his type. He was just speaking what he believed to be the truth.

The woman chuckled softly, shaking his hand. "I'm Maria." She smiled at him and the young man relaxed in his chair. Maria took a quick onceover of the man beside her, his short black hair sitting perfectly on top of his head, his masculine jaw line, and his dark, mysterious eyes that she presumed many girls had gotten lost in. He tied the look together with a black leather jacket and black pants, epitomizing the phrase, 'tall, dark and handsome'.

After a few rounds of drinks, the two strangers began to bond, not necessarily talking about themselves or their personal lives, but just talking and telling jokes. Both of them laughing, something they hadn't done in too long. Fang had finished telling another joke, watching the female carefully as she tried containing her laughter, but failing miserably. Everything was going well until her phone rang, a certain ringtone, for a certain person, pulling her back to reality. "I have to take this, sorry," she whispered to him and he nodded, understanding.

"Maria, where are you?" a voice said through the phone, worry evident in his voice. "I came home and you weren't here. Maria –"

She tensed, but looked over her shoulder, seeing the dark-haired man, and decided against her initial reaction. "I'm fine, Dylan. I'm just with a friend."

"Where? I'll come and pick you up. You know that you're not supposed to go out without anyone with you."

Her hand tightened around the phone. He was making her remember again. Who she was. "I said I was with a friend," she said tersely. "And you didn't exactly want me this morning."

"Maria –"

Before she could hear another word, or maybe before he could convince her, she hung up on him, walking back to her seat next to the man, but not sitting down. "Who was that?" he asked, though the look on her face told him all he needed to know. "Boyfriend?"

She looked into his eyes, seeing his true concern over the issue, and sighed. "No, my doctor. It was just my doctor." Saying that Dylan, her fiancé, was just her doctor felt weird on her tongue, but at the same time, it was the truth. He was her doctor more than he was her partner and it hurt her too much. It just hurt.

"You okay?" Fang asked sincerely.

That question, the question she'd heard way too many times in her life said indifferently, said just for the hell of it, said just for pity caused her pain to the chest. And just then, she allowed herself to drown in her darkness. It seemed that everyone expected her to die anyways, so she stopped caring. She stopped fighting.

As soon as she fell, Fang leapt from his chair and caught her in his strong arms. She'd looked up at him with her half-glazed eyes, a small smile on her face. She'd whispered a 'thank you' before she allowed her eyes to roll to the back of her head, and lastly, she'd breathed the name of her best friend.

Fang's face drained of color, his midnight orbs widening, his heart pounding in his ears in response to the sound of that name. The name that brought back so many memories. The reason why he wanted to forget too. The person he wanted to forget.

Noah.

Mysterious enough for ya? Lol. I'll edit later haha :D

Since almost all of you voted for a surprise, I have done exactly that. This story will not be your typical cliché high school story, but instead I'm taking a risk. Max and Fang are not horny teenagers like in most stories, but if you're willing to give this a chance, I promise it'll make up for it lacking the high school drama. In this story, Max and Fang are in their early twenties; I still have some researching to do because I want to make this accurate.

I've had this idea for quite some time now, but I wanted both myself and my writing to mature a little bit more before I began this story. So, since I'm posting, I think I'm ready lol. Please, please be supportive. It'd be nice to know what you guys think from getting away from the typical Max and Fang in high school stories (not that there's anything wrong with them, I wrote one myself). I just want to know if it's pointless posting a story a non-high school fiction on a teenage populated fandom ( since I too am a teen ) .

For my "Welcoming the Heartache" readers, I have decided (yesterday lol) that I WILL continue that story. I feel bad leaving it off like that and yeah . . .

For my "Of Sun and Moon" readers, I'm so sorry I haven't updated yet. But I've hit writers block and I just need some more time! I'm super sorry! But I promise I'll try and make it worth the wait!

Can we please reach 15 reviews? So that I know that people are willing to take a break from the cliché and walk into the realm of something, well, different? Thanks for those who read, double thanks and chocolate chip cookies to those who review :D

Have a nice day guys!