Chapter Text
Six months later
The garage was colder than it used to be. Winter came early that year, snow settling over the Virginia mountains like a lid that wouldn’t lift.
Max’s chair stayed in the corner. No one touched it. It collected dust first, then cobwebs, like it had decided to become part of the building.
There was no one pretending to do college applications anymore.
Just Charles, and the sound of the garage settling at night.
The messages changed slowly at first.
How have you been left on delivered.
A college is going well, miss u answered with a thumbs up.
Then longer gaps.
Then nothing that needed a reply.
It wasn’t what Max promised.
It wasn’t keeping in touch.
It was just proof that life kept moving somewhere else without him.
Charles told himself it didn’t matter.
That it didn’t hurt as much as it should have.
He said things like, “I’ll die in the house I grew up in,” like it was funny.
Or, “I’ll spend the rest of my life with what would’ve been.”
He laughed when he said it.
That was the part that worried him most.
And maybe with time, things happened in Washington, maybe Max's phone broke, or maybe his promise did. But the texts stopped coming.
But between now and then, there was nothing to respond too,
And this is where the pain truly consumed Charles, the feeling of being sideways in a society that grows parallel, the knowing that the world kept moving after max left the town,
It hurts. And that's all Charles knew.
So that's what Charles wrote in his letter,
“I think it's better to die numb than to feel it all, you know? I miss you with every atom of my being, I’m so terrified that I might have never met me.
Through all these years, I've never known what I wanted to do, like maybe if I ignore it long enough, it'll just go away.
But all that matters is that you’ve known me, you were always in my heart, but everyone’s moving, and everyone’s healthy, and I'm so desolate it scares me, I have no reason to leave. But I have none to stay.
And maybe that’s what happened, you were moving, you were healthy while I wilted in the corner like a neglected flower, I mean it’s kind of true, the sun doesn’t shine much in Staunton.
I don’t think I ever knew how to say things while they were still happening. So I guess I’m saying it after.
I kept thinking you’d leave and I’d catch up later. Like later was something we both agreed on. I just didn’t think I’d stay behind like this.
Like dead weight, I’m rail thin with the thought of what to do next
I wanted to tell you a lot of things and I kept turning them into jokes instead. I think you knew that. I think you always knew more than you acted like you did.
If you’re reading this, then I guess I finally ran out of time I kept pretending we had.
I hope you made it somewhere you wanted to go. I hope it wasn’t just leaving.
I don't know what I was supposed to be for you. But I knows what you were for me.
I think I was always going to miss you. Even when you were right there.
I’m sorry I didn’t say it while it still counted.
Come back and visit, please M. Don’t let it be for the wrong reason. I need you. I want to talk. Be safe.
Love, Charles”
Charles never sent the letter.
On some random Sunday, the sky was cloudy and dark, rain falling hard onto dirt roads. He left it under the baseball and walked out of the garage.
It was still dark when his taillights disappeared off the road, swallowed by the bend at the edge of town.
And maybe Charles wanted a closer look at the road and the grass, but the grass wasn’t dancing like it used to in summer—it was pressed flat against the ground, the rain holding it there.
So he left the garage.
And never came back.
A week later.
“Max?”
A woman’s voice broke through the silence when he answered.
“Yes? Who is this?”
“It’s Mari… Charles’s mom.”
A pause.
The noise in the background swallowed part of the call.
“Oh yeah—Mrs. Leclerc! Is Charles around? Max asked
“He’s not able to come to the phone.
“Oh yeah, that's fine I can just call him after, I bet he's at the garage!”
“Max.” his name came out wrong and sharp
“Y- yeah?” max was taken aback from the uncertainty of why this call was made
“You need to come back to Staunton.”
It’s for the funeral.”
Silence.
“He left something for you.”
“…What?”
Max’s voice cracked before he even understood it.
“Who— who’s he? Charles? Tell me it’s not Char—”
“I’m so sorry, Max. The funeral is Thursday.”
The line didn’t feel like a phone anymore.
It felt like distance collapsing all at once.
“Can you make it?”
—
The next time Max drove interstate 81 back to virgina, his tailgate was empty, along with his heart.
The road didn't feel familiar.
Because at the end of the night, the town that Max was so eager to leave, was only important to him because it held Charles, and now?
Staunton was nothing now.
The road curved the same way it always had.
Trees still disappeared behind the bend.
Grass still bent under the wind.
But nothing moved like it used to when Charles was watching it.
The garage. A place that was a safe haven to the pair for years.
It still smelled of oil
Cold metal
Grease.
The corners of the room sat collecting dust and cobwebs,
And for a second. Max just stood in the doorway
Breathin in, breathin out.
He glanced up, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead
Nothing changed.
And maybe that’s what made max so angry, is that the world could keep something so ordinary intact after Charles passed
The same toolbox sat against the wall,
The same workbench
The same half finished project Charles swore he would finish.
Max swallowed hard
His eyes involuntarily wandered to the chair in the corner,
His chair.
The chair that used to hold max while collage applications and brochures covered his lap.
It now sat collecting a thin layer of dust
Max walks over, swiping his hand over the dust.
His throat tightened
His eyes glossy
“You should’ve yelled at me”
He spoke.
The garage didn't answer
Of course it didn't.
Max laughed once,
It came out broken and wrong
“You should've told me”
He shook his head still looking at the chair
Memories of Charles under some car in the garage, it's almost like he could see him now
“I promise I would've listened”
He turned around. leaving the chair behind, just like he left this town behind
Like he left Charles behind
He's sure he would've listened if charles just talked to him
But would he?
Or would he nod and smile and go back to thinking about the future?
His eyes drifted around the room, to the shelf. To the old football trophies charles parents kept in the garage
To the lone little league baseball
That ball looks familiar
Max walks over and picks it up, the crevices are now filled with dust
The faded signatures of two children.
And one word
Forever
It felt like someone had punched him
A sound escaped his lips.
Half laugh
Half sob
Forever
They were ten years old
Ten years old and stupid enough to believe “forever” was somewhere you could arrive at
His hands shook,
Something sat underneath the ball,
An envelope, yellowed at the edges,
Max.
The handwriting hit him harder than the funeral had.
Because suddenly Charles wasn't gone.
He was right here.
Ink pressed into paper.
Waiting.
Waiting the same way he'd waited for texts.
For phone calls.
For visits.
For promises.
Max stared at the paper for a long time before opening it,
His fingers trembled as the paper opened,
The first line made his heart jump
“I think it's better to die numb than to feel it all, you know?”
Max let his eyes fall close for a second before reading more, like the calm before the storm
His eyes opened and jump to the line
“Everyones moving, and everyone's healthy, and I'm so desolate, it scared me, i have no reason to leave. But I have none to stay”
As he read, memories started arranging themselves.
No more laptops
Lets just be us
I miss you, and your right in front of me
Keep in touch
I will
You came
Yes, i did
Things he'd heard
Things he's seen
Things he didn't understand
“I wanted to tell you a lot of things and I kept turning them into jokes instead. I think you knew that. I think you always knew more than you acted like you did.”
Maybe that was the cruelest part.
Max had noticed.
The sleepless nights. The way Charles picked at food instead of eating it. The jokes about never leaving town.
He'd noticed all of it.
He just never realized they weren't jokes. He thought there would be time to ask.
There wasn't.
“Come back and visit, please M. Don’t let it be for the wrong reason. I need you. I want to talk. Be safe.
Love, Charles”
As he reads that last sentence, he can't see the paper anymore, the world blurred together. tear marks stained the paper
He falls forward, the letter crumpling against his chest
The only sound that fills the garage now is Max's sobbing.
And maybe for the first time since Max came home
He understood
Charles wasn't holding onto Staunton
He was holding onto him.
Max had spent years mistaking love for fear.
By the time he understood the difference, there was nobody left to tell.
Charles always paid attention to the road.
Max finally understood why.
Every road led away from him.