I stood in front of Max's bedroom door, my hand clenching and unclenching at my side.

I don't even now why I'm here. It shouldn't be my problem if he was locking himself in his room. I had problems of my own, problems I had caused because I'm an idiot.

"Max?" I blurted before I could change my mind and walk out of the house. I didn't hear a response, and for a minute the thought of him sneaking out crossed my mind. That was until I remembered that this wasn't Maxwell Duncan anymore, but the paralyzed kid who couldn't sneak out if he wanted too.

"What do you want, Cyrus?" A familiar voice finally snapped back from the other side of the door. I leaned back against the door frame, crossing my arms over my chest.

"I heard you locked yourself in you room." I said.

"And my mom sent you to come talk to me, right?" He guessed. I sighed, rolling my eyes as I stared at the wall across from me.

I could still see the marks on the door, the marks Mr. and Mrs. Duncan had marked every time Max or his sister Molly would grow. It had been one of my favorite things to look at when I used to come over as a kid, to try and measure myself so I knew if I was ever going to be taller than either of the Duncan kids.

"Can I come in?" I asked, forcing myself out of my thoughts.

I hadn't lost my best friend for nothing, I was going to get Max to like me, even if it took me being the most annoying, irritating person I could possibly be.

"Whatever. The door's open." I took a deep breath, bracing myself for the worst as I turned the knob and let the door creak loudly as it opened. I blinked in surprise when I saw Max sitting on the edge of his bed, his eyes trained on the TV set in front of him.

The room looked like a new and improved version of the last time I saw it. The sheets and blankets on his bed that had once been smiling sports equipment were now black, as were the walls that his posters littered.

The trophy case that sat back against the wall beside his bed, the one that had held all of his Good Participant trophies, now held meaningful ones. I let my envy show clearly on my face as my eyes roamed the different championship trophies.

"Watch where you step." He mumbled, not taking his eyes off the TV. I looked down just in time to find a pair of boxers laying on top of a half eaten piece of pizza. My nose scrunched up in disgust as I took in the rest of the trash and dirty laundry that littered his floors.

For some reason I was amazed by the fact that the perfect Maxwell Duncan's room looked like a typical teenage boy's.

"That's disgusting." I pointed at the ground, careful not to step on anything as I made my way toward the bed.

"You're the one that wanted to come in." He shrugged, finally letting his eyes drift off the screen in front of him and on to me. I was too busy trying to avoid stepping on a plate of old spaghetti to realize he was smirking.

"I don't see why your mom would want to come in here in the first place." I said to him, shaking my head. "This is the dirtiest room I've ever seen." He gave me a look before turning his TV off and gesturing toward his covered legs.

"Does it look like I'm in any condition to clean it up?" He growled.

"No. But you could let your mom in, Max. You could let her clean some of this up, let her bring in a trash can and hamper so you don't have to get up all the time." I responded, equally as irritated.

I had seen the way his mom was acting, at how desperately she wanted to see her son again, the real Max.

"You don't know what it's like, any of you. All you do is sit there and try to compare what's wrong to me to something that's happened to you, but none of you know the half of it. You don't understand how hard it is to move, how hard it is to go to the bathroom and wash my hands before dinner. My mom's the worst one, she thinks that because I'm her son she can feel my pain. That's bullshit."

I watched his face twist in anger, his cheeks darkening into a red. As amazing as it seemed to me, I could feel sympathy already starting to build in my chest. I felt horrible for the guy that had treated me like shit the last two years, but all I could do was hope this would be an advantage in trying to get him to see the world through different eyes.

"They laughed in my face." He said bitterly, "The team and Les. They thought I was such a joke sitting in this piece of shit. They, out of all of you guys, were the ones that didn't look at me with pity and sympathy. No, instead they sat there and laughed, spread rumors. I watched Les stick her tongue down Dez's throat." I lifted my head up in shock, my mouth hanging open.

Why was he telling me this? Was he actually opening up to me?

"That sucks." I whispered, kicking a bouncy ball away from me, my eyes watching as it rolled under the nightstand.

"You think? I lost my whole life that day, Quinn. I lost everything." I stared at him, my heart clenching a little.

I couldn't help but think back to my mom's words from our fight the other night. She had asked how I would have felt if it had been me in Max's place. Now, as I stared at the boy in front of me, I could finally answer the question with honesty.

No, I wouldn't be able to be as strong as he was. I would be falling apart, screaming, fighting anyone that tried to help me.

As I turned back to look at Max, I was shocked to find him still looking at me, his eyebrows drawn in confusion. It was then that I finally was able to admit it to myself, that no matter how hard I could try and deny it, I would be acting the exact same as Max was, and I wouldn't feel the least bit bad about it.

*

After I had talked Max into letting me pick up some of the stuff in his room to help his mom out, since I knew she'd be the one cleaning it all up later, I heard his front door close.

He perked up slightly at the sound, as if one of his parents being home meant I would be out of his hair.

"Ouch!" I cried out. I rubbed my head, glaring at the open trophy case door.

"Still a klutz?" He joked, and when I looked up, I found a genuine smile tugging at his lips.

"I can't be a klutz on the field, so no." I lied, shutting the glass door before I could hurt myself again.

"Hey, isn't this the trophy I won at that carnival?" I asked, reaching in and pulling out a small, light trophy.

It had been one of my favorite days, it had also been the first time our parents let us go alone. Being as competitive as we are, Max and I had gone head to head on every game, trying to see who would win until we had spent all of the cash our parents had given us and had to bum money off of strangers.

"Max, you kept this?" Sure enough, it was the same crappy plastic trophy I had won when I beat him at a game of ring toss.

"Don't start getting all sappy on me, Quinn. I kept it because I should have beat you, and having it reminded me of that. The only reason you won was because that carnie thought you were cute." I snorted, turning to face him.

"You're just jealous that I was able to beat you at something." I said, cockily.

"I guarantee you I'd beat you if we played again. I'm better at you than everything, Quinn. You're just going to have to accept that." I almost snapped at the comment, but decided against it and forced a smile on to my face.

"Oh yeah? The carnival will be back in town in like a month and a half. How about we prove your theory then? Deal?" I proposed, setting the trophy back on the shelf.

I didn't expect him to respond, especially not with the answer he did.

"Deal."

***AN***'

Oh my God, an update? I know, I know! 

I'm trying to complete all the books I've started and this is the first. 

I hope you guys enjoyed!

Let me know what you think of Max, do you think that's really why he kept the trophy?

~ChasingMadness24