max-millers - Tumblr blog

[max-millers]

Eleven, if all goes as scheduled, Zed says, and Max allows himself to look quite amused. "You do know I have been working as a paramedic ever since I was eighteen, right?", he asks. There's barely a shift that ends on time, if not under special circumstances. But; in addition to his eagerness, Max also isn't shaking anymore. He looks, and is clean.

Then Zed offers a reason to talk, and god, does Max go off. It's clear that the resident hasn't just done the tasks, he's also read further into it; has done further research. The clinical effects of anesthetic techniques on the respiratory system, all explained and quite obviously well understood. The second task he's not perfectly safe with, but he asks his questions; his what do I do if's, and what do I give when's. It's his way to show that his interest is sincere, that he seriously put some time and work into tasks not even official.

They reach the ICU just as Max finishes talking, and the blonde stops to open the door with his badge; "Anything I should know before we start?", he asks, then, "Or do you have more questions I should answer?"

There's a lesson here already.

"Eleven, if all goes as scheduled." Zed slides his gaze to the eager, white coated intern next to him as he arrives. Max will quickly learn, much like in the field — Zed assumes — nothing ever goes smoothly. Very rarely does anything finish as written on paper. Printed ink, is a formality that rarely gets to be held at truth.

Eleven, if you're very fucking lucky.

Eleven, if Zed is too. Any longer with Miller, and he might do something frowned upon.

Lazily gesturing with his hand, he expects Max to start walking to the ICU. It's been a task passed to him, since Miller got lumbered on his service. He spends his time in consultancy talks, or in an OR.

Even more infrequent, is Zed walking aimlessly through the walls of a hospital. There's intent, in everything he does.

Miller disrupts his patterns. Zed's accustomed to tutoring; lecturing, but that isn't how this works. He's in the wrong walls, for that. "You will be doing the talking; I gave you tasks, tell me as we walk. Explain your understanding."

[max-millers]

"Miles." Miles wasn't a doctor, which meant Max had to pull some ties, had to use some money. Ripping up open the glove department at a red light, Max searched until he found a secret compartment and pulled out a stack of cash, briefly skipping over the bills to figure how many there were; and he figured they were enough for most doctor's to not ask him questions for now.

Max parked the car, hitting the brakes softly but as quickly as possible, running around the car to pull her out, back up into her arms. With his badge in his hands, Max started to run again. "I know this is going to hurt. But you're going to make it, okay, Korra? We made it." Thank fucking god that they had. Thank fucking god that he wasn't fucking watching her die.

Opening up the door, Max made his way into the emergency room, "I found her on the street on the way here.", he tells one of the rushing doctors he knows, sliding him the wad of cash, "No more questions." The man looks at the money, takes it and allows Max to lower her onto a bed. "Korra. I might have to leave.", he informs her, "I likely will have to."

Korra appreciated Max's words but that didn't stop her from being worried. It didn't stop her from thinking of her daughter and her boyfriend. Of the fact that she was only a few blocks from home when she had ran into Mathias, saw him kill someone, and then attack her.

Tears continued to stream down her cheeks as Max got out some pain meds. Korra didn't even wince when he gave her the shot. The numbness was spreading throughout her body, as was the exhaustion. "Okay." Korra muttered as her head tilted to the side, her eyes flickering towards the window.

She was thankful when she felt the car jerk forward. Korra took in several deep breaths, trying to keep herself calm as Max drove. More tears fell from her eyes as Max grabbed her hand and squeezed. She squeezed back, trying to show him that she was still there. She was still fighting to keep herself awake.

Five minutes felt like hours. Each minute dragged on and on and she wondered if they'd ever get there. I'm fine. I'll be fine. Just a few bruises and cuts. I'll be okay. She told herself, over and over again until they got to the hospital. At Max's questions, Korra forced herself to focus. To move her lips and tongue, even though it felt hard. "Miles knows. I asked him to come." Her voice was soft and her speech somewhat slow. The pain meds were sinking in, twisting through her body, causing her mind to fog up more than what it already was.

[max-millers]

"Uh." Well. "We're just hooking up.", Max explains, "He's.. he's a lot. In a good way." Rubbing his face, the blonde turns to look at Zane, "But it's been a while since we did, and we've been hooking up for like, two years or something. No hard feelings." Like, none at all. "You should have figured I've got Daddy issues, bro."

Sighing at Zane's persistent asking, Max shakes his head and steals the joint away, taking another hit. "No fucking way, dude. I'm not telling you."

"If you say so." Zane muttered before taking another hit. It took a lot to get him high, as he smoked nearly every day.

Zane was about to comment on the scariness of the snake when his mind snagged on Max's other comment. "You wake up in his bed." Zane hummed as he tilted his head to the side. "Wait so is Caleb your ex? Or someone else?" First, Harley. Now his brother? Fuck. Zane really needed to get to know this guy better.

"Oh, you haven't heard? I'm a relationship guru." Ha. Relationship guru. Zane forced himself to only smile and not laugh at himself. He held the blunt back out towards his brother. "Come on! Complicated is my middle fucking name. Let me help. Isn't that what brothers are for?"

[max-millers]

You love him?, Caleb asked, and Max groaned silently. "Had to hit me with the big questions first, huh?", he muttered. The answer was easy. He'd said it before, had cried it out before, had sobbed it out before, in multiple different variations. "Hopelessly.", Max answers, "I have been since I was 23." Through rehab. Through.. "We dated for a while. Kind of.. love at the first sight." Kind of is something he could laugh at. They'd seen each other, locked eyes, and Max had been a goner. And deep down he knows; so had been Luis.

"He's good at pushing me away. He always has been." Max still precisely remembers the moment Luis had ran into him in the casino again. The things he felt. How young he had been when it all started. "I was an active addict when we met. I had just gone through my second rehab, and was struggling to stay sober. Then I met him, and he helped me stay clean." Max's fingers tap Caleb's shoulder, and they stop trembling.

"I love him so much that I can't breathe when he's around."

One moment Caleb was ready for it, but the moment he felt the trembling fingers on his shoulders, he stopped and just as his mind was set, the word to seal his decision was said; wait. Max wasn't alright and he wasn't a out to have sex with the blond if he was feeling some type of way.

"You love him?" He asked, instead of answering. To him, it had been obvious. Just like Max' lie earlier had been. Most people often thought that a good lie was executed with a poker face, but Caleb had learned that the best lies were told by the people around you. Just like Max (until recently) had been sure Caleb had just been a good guy owning a food pantry. And those who made it possible were the people around him believing that he was only just that and spreading that around. But the best lie, could be dismantled by someone who wasn't in on it. Like Max' father. Just like he'd also been the reason Caleb hadn't believed a perfectly crafted lie by Max. And at the gathering, Luis had been excellent, but it was their previous meeting with Harley that hadn't added up. If it hadn't been for that, he would've believed whatever had been said to him.

But right now, he wanted to know how Max felt so he could answer with the right words. He wouldn't lie, but would be extremely careful with his answer.

[max-millers]

Sometimes, Max doesn't really think. Cue this moment. "Oh. Yeah. No, like, scratch that. Let's maybe not." Everything about this is confusing. The concept of this conversation in general. The idea that he's sitting in his living room with a killer, discussing his own father's murder. (There's a piece of himself locked away in his head, that's screaming and banging on a door right now.)

"I think I'm fine doing it by myself." Slowly, the blonde gets up from the couch and closes the bottle of wine, "And I think you should leave. Now."

Mathias had every right not to trust Max. Coming along to someone's murder as if it was an appointment was odd, especially if Mathias wasn't required to take part in it. "And what makes you think that's a good idea? Sounds like a trap to me, one that can easily end in your and your father's death at my hand". He could kill father and son, he had done it before.

"Tell you what, I'll go with you but if you begin to hesitate, or if your actions put me in danger, I'll put a bullet through your head and then your father's". He'd steal the satisfaction of killing from Max for inconveniencing him. "Understood?"

[max-millers]

💌 + heath

[Max -> Heathie] i think i fucked things up for real this time [Max -> Heathie] i think i fucked everything up [Max -> Heathie] why do i always fuck everything up

MESSAGES (NEVER) SENT; MAX | EASTON | SEINE | BEN | OSCAR

[max-millers]

💌

[ Max -> Esme ] i'm sorry i act like a massive asshole around you all the time [ Max -> Esme ] i'm just scared and self-sabotaging [ Max -> Esme ] which is not an excuse, just an explanation

MESSAGES (NEVER) SENT; MAX | EASTON | SEINE | BEN | OSCAR

[max-millers]

SEND ME YOUR MUSES NAME AND A 💌 FOR A MESSAGE NEVER SENT; OR A ✉️ FOR A MESSAGE SENT TO SOMEONE ELSE, TALKING ABOUT THEM.

MAX | EASTON | SEINE | BEN | OSCAR

[max-millers]

In a way, Luis never stops moving. Max knows what that means. He's trying to keep himself occupied with everything but the blonde himself. And Max also knows that some things have changed ever since they saw each other at the auction. Not because of what happened in the gardens, but because of what happened after.

The brunette's words still echo in his mind every time he closes his eyes for too long, they haunt him down when he sleeps, and works. When Mathias' words find their way back into his head, there's a constant hint of Luis' words working to overpower the killer's.

Luis freezes like a statue, and for a moment Max wishes he was nothing more than that, a lifeless piece of stone carved to be the most beautiful piece of art in his world; one that would answer his messages and his desperate confessions with nothing but silence. One who's answer to 'I'm sick' wouldn't be 'I'll bring you soup', one who wouldn't end up tangled into the bedsheets with him every night. One who doesn't look at Max like he loves him dearly.

If Luis is only staying until Max finishes his soup, then he will not eat. If Luis is only staying until Max falls asleep, Max will be an insomniac, never sleeping. If Luis is only staying until Max is healthy again, Max will be as sick as he can be, as sick of love as he can get.

Max sits, and waits, as if time could heal the love he's fallen victim of, and he rubs his left chest as if that could sooth the poorly beating heart, aching to be closer to Luis'. Aching to be revived.

It takes Max a moment to look up at the young man sitting in front of him, and for a minute there's nothing but silence while the blonde's features break into the expression they always show while he's looking at Luis, and then Max mumbles out the words that have been stuck between his ribs for ages, close to his heart; "You know it's me, Luis. Stop running away. Stay the night."

Luis had to mentally scold himself for reaching out; a hand coming up to rest on the other man's shoulder, fingers tight, grounding —making sure he was steady. He moved away almost instantly then, once Max was sitting up alright, fingers stretching out as if to shake off the touch of him. He had to busy himself with something, anything; unwrapping the bags with food and finding a spoon for his soup seemed like a good idea.

"He's always been a shitty dad then, huh? Even when you were a kid?" he was rummaging through the drawers; somehow interupting Max with a question like where do you keep your spoons, seemed inappropriate. He's taken care of his siblings before, when they were sick, Luis knew what to do, and most of all he knew to remain calm and not let worry cloud his mind.

Worry — the constant feeling chocking him up at night, at the very thought of Max; questions he wished to ask him, instead aimed at the darkness in his room. The dark never answered, and for unknown reasons, being unaware of what the other was dealing with drove him a little less insane, than actually knowing what was going up his nose (down his throat, into his bloodstream.)

He shouldn't be here.

Stay. One word that nearly broke his heart in two.

Dark eyes narrowed to the spoon in his hand. He didn't know how long he'd been standing there, holding on to that, motionless. "I'll stay until you finish up your soup." a weak nod. Luis planned to help him to bed next, and leave him to rest. This was all he could do for him, without falling into bad habits. There was a line between them, one so easily crossed, yet there — there to remind Luis that what he could offer is so very little, and what Max deserved was the whole damn world. He wasn't going to cross that line. He wasn't going to let Max settle for very little.

"Come on — " he moved closer, pulling himself a chair across from Max. "You have to eat."

[max-millers]

@zedechemist | Setting: The hospital | Local Time: 20:35

All the glowing orange and reflectors of his jacket are gone, and now replaced by dark blue scrubs, and a white coat. It feels wrong to wear it still, and Max can't quite get over his name engraved into it's front, font barely readable, and still.

It's quiet around. Max is waiting for Zed, ready to tour the ICU, which he already knows inside out, anyway. He has prepared for almost every question Zed might ask, he knows his abbreviations inside out, every single vein, artery, bone, muscle. He works well under pressure, the best even.

But today feels different - and he has long admitted himself that he asked Zed because he was scared. Because he has a feeling that in the worst cases, Zed could understand anything.

A familiar face comes into sight, and Max lifts his hand with a grin and a wave, before letting it flop back down to the side of his body. He's been clean two months now, off everything one possibly could be. He's done it for Luis, and himself, and for Zed's nerves, too. Maybe.

"We have about eleven hours left to keep me busy." Grinning softly, the resident holds up his little notebook and pen, "And I'm so ready for you to talk my ear off."

[max-millers]

assigned tumblr posts;

giving up the tagging help

[max-millers]

assigned tumblr posts;

@astrorahi ; @dtoussaint ; @designedonchaos ; @father-jude ; @alandietrich ; @zanexsaxena ; @felixsecada ; @noailles ; @rileytakeda ; @zedechemist ; @samburman ; @cmplexities

[max-millers]

assigned tumblr memes;

@flynnxhalliday ; @laurestephens ; @ariaboughton ; @chiefhalliday ; @leemalkovich ; @viadangelo; @evamovska ; @audrasmythe ; @morenocaleb ; @levmovska ; @yeniens ; @intxication ; @theangellies ; @emiliocarrasco ; @tristanzaire

[max-millers]

- struck the match

April 25th, 2024

Dear Mister Maximilian Miller, the staff of NYU Grossman School of Medicine is pleased to inform you that you were successfully matched into a residency.

Compared to the feeling of getting into medical school, match day tastes much more bitter. Max can't quite remember when he's last forced himself into a suit, but today, his shoes are polished, pants and shirt are ironed, and his tie is perfectly straight.

The blonde is not quite sure what he's dressing up for. His hopes of matching into his first choice is little, or rather zero. With his recent crash back into addiction (and the last three weeks sober again), his last few grades may have ripped that dream right out of his hands. He's not mad at himself, or anyone else. It is what it is, he tries to tell himself, while nervously fixing his tie for the third time in a row.

[ Dad -> Maximilian ] I'll get there by myself, like we discussed. [ Dad -> Maximilian ] Proud you let me be a part of this day. Love you, son. [ Maximilian -> Dad ] i'm glad ur coming, cu

The sun is starting to sink down the sky as Max exits his apartment, and then the house the apartment is in. Fresh air hits his face, and the stern expression on his face changes into something more relaxed for a second. Deep breaths, he reminds himself as he gets into the Uber he's called, and some pressure falls of his shoulders when he chats with the driver, talking about what's about to happen.

What's about to happen, though, is..

[ Dad -> Maximilian ] Can't make it, sorry.

Max gets the message as he exits the Uber, and the laugh he lets out is devastated, and somehow relieved. He'd expected this to happen, and still. There's no plan B. No Miles called, or Zane, or Luis, or Zed, or Kelly. He's all alone now, and there's no way to change it. And maybe, it's a good thing. Or so he thinks, until he sees everyone with their family, all happy and excited.

He's not excited. He's just nervous.

Maybe he's got Lenox Hill, or Lower Manhattan. Or, or. Please let it at least be Lenox Hill.

Why in all world Grossman chose a stage to announce, is what Max asks himself seconds later. He's sick to his stomach, and on his way up to the conference room, his fingers grip the handrail so hard his knuckles turn white.

"Hey, Max!", someone calls, and he turns around to find Connor, a fellow medical student, who pats his back hard as he walks by, "Here all by yourself?" Yes, Max answers, My Dad couldn't make it. A phrase said like it's recorded, over and over again tonight.

And when Professor Simone hands him his white letter, Max does feel like throwing up.

Shaky fingers and shaky legs lead the way up onto the stage, and he stops in front of the small microphone. There's not as many students as there is family members, and Max does spot a few familiar faces in the crowd. Spotlight on, and he's the lead actor - just for the glimpse of a moment.

"Hi, I'm Max.", he says into the microphone, and there's some cheers, "I matched into Anesthesiology." Still shaky fingers rip the paper open, and all his head repeats is Lenox Hill, Lenox Hill, Len- "No fucking way." Laughter erupts in the crowd, and Max grin is wide and teary eyed as he raises his voice once again; "I'm staying here in New York!"

It's not Lenox Hill, no - it's the hospital Zed works in the most. His first choice. The first choice he thought he'd never get. It's a rush of the stage then, followed by cheers and some shoulder pats, and Max doesn't stick around for chats, no.

He goes straight home, and sends a few texts:

[ Max -> Zeddy ] [photo of the letter attached] you're so not getting rid of me any time soon [ Max -> Luis <3 ] fuck matched in texas [ Max -> Luis <3 ] jk i'm staying in ny [ Max -> Luis <3 ] are u free [ Max -> Miles ] [photo of the letter attached] i'm so gonna be ur sugar daddy [ Max -> Zane ] [photo of the letter attached] told u i'm the smarter brother [ Max -> Caleb ] [photo of the letter attached] got my first choice [ Max -> Gael ] [photo of the letter attached] !!!!!!! [ Max -> Esme ] [photo of the letter attached] i made it, thought you'd may like to hear, hope you're doing okay - max

[max-millers]

Max's heart skips a beat, then picks it right back up. "You're telling them yourself, Korra.", he says, and there's no ounce of disbelief in his voice, "You'll be telling them yourself." In his head, he does promise that yes, if she doesn't make it, he will tell them. But she has to.

His hands find the bottled opioid, and Max pulls the correct dose up into a syringe, lets the air drip out and gives her the shot. Then he tosses it all back into the box and that on the backseat. "You'll feel dizzy, high. That's normal."

She says Drive, and god, does he take that to heart. Max floors the gas, knowing very well his father will kill him for messing up his car later, knowing very well he'll have to burn this down somewhere to get rid of it. His fingers find hers, and he squeezes them softly, proving he's still there, proving she's still alive.

"Five minutes." And then it's four, three, two, Max whips out his badge and drives into the parking space like it's a car race, and he's not Max Miller, but Max Verstappen. "Did you call anyone to wait here, or do I have to get someone?"

Her hand was slick with her own blood as he took it in his gloved ones. He told her not to cry but it only caused the tears to pour even faster. Korra's chest heaved as she tried to get more oxygen into her lungs but it felt like she couldn't get enough.

"W-what if..." Her voice shook as she continued to cry. "Tell them... Harper. Miles. I love them, okay?" Korra would fight like hell to live. And she knew that where Mathias had harmed her, it wasn't anywhere extremely fatal. But she was losing blood and she was so fucking tired.

She tried to properly prepare herself for him picking her up but she still cried out in pain as he lifted her into his arms. Her forehead lulled to the side, resting against his chest as he held her. As much as she appreciated Max, Korra wished it was Miles holding her. That she was being enveloped by his warmth.

Another strangled cry escaped her lips as Max began running out of the alley. Korra gripped at his clothes to try to ground herself -- to try to focus on staying present. If she wasn't in so much pain, she might have laughed at his joke. The hospital. Korra had assumed as much. The brotherhood medics had great training but when it came tot he injuries her body had suffered, she needed as much help as she could get.

"No. No allergies." Korra breathed as her head tilted back against the headrest. Tears were still streaming down her face but she managed to get her breathing under control. "Max." She muttered, fully intending to tell him that she had texted Miles. That he knew they were on their way to the hospital but he didn't know about her injuries. But it felt like her tongue wasn't working properly. She blinked several times, fighting against the exhaustion and the sudden numbness she was beginning to feel. "Drive." Please.

[max-millers]

"No it's- It's fine. We've got boundaries." Like, not staying over the night. Or. Or maybe, that's about it. Not that it isn't enough.

Not so fond of talking about Luis the whole time, Max sighs and nods when the conversation shifts to Caleb. "Yes. And again, it's called Lulu. It does not look like it should be called like that, and I hate it. It's fucking scary." Max pulls a face, "I swear I'll wake up in his bed sometime and that fucking thing is in it."

Sighing deeply, Max turns his head to look at Zane, "How would you even help?" Debating to tell, Max bites down on his bottom lip, "It's too complicated, anyway."

"One can only hope." Zane let out a dramatic sigh before shoving those thoughts aside. He didn't care to think about his parents anymore than what he needed to. "Apologies accepted, little bro." He smirked at Max. He had no intention of telling him that his friend, Luis, was the one that provided him the drugs.

"What do you mean, not just an ex?" Zane asked, his eyebrows raised slightly. "Unannounced and unwanted? If that's the case, you should probably set some boundaries." Zane took another hit, paused, and laughed. "Caleb has a fucking snake as a pet?" He had no idea. But thena gain, he didn't know Caleb all that well. He mostly just knew his job in the brotherhood. And the fact that Harley has spent time with him. "Come on, Maximilian. What's his name? Maybe I can help."

[max-millers]

When Max's back hit the floor, it felt like lighting striking him awake, and right then and there in that moment he remembered that he was sober - and that sober sex in active relapse always felt like death to him. He hadn't exactly thought about it, because this was Caleb, and not just some random stranger, but maybe that also was where it all went wrong.

Slightly shaky fingers find strong shoulders, and Max furrows his brows in an attempt to figure what to say - and then Max remembers, his roman empire, the devil that haunts him down at night - Luis.

"Wait.", Max says, wrapping his arms around Caleb's neck in hopes of him not noticing the gentle shaking - god, how much he hates withdrawal. "Do you actually think Luis likes me?"

Caleb frowned. "Not interested in women." He pointed out. The whole idea horrified him even if he'd been the one to mention it first. "Shitty deal for me." He gazed up as Max straddled his lap. "Can you?" He asked; partially teasing, partially asking seriously. The older man was quite calm, observing the blond and what he was going to do.

He chuckled then. "Really?" Caleb easily pulled the younger man off of him, forcing him down on the floor as he spread his legs. "If you want to insult me. We'll have to keep your mouth occupied." He smiled right before yanking Max' hair back.