#maxryl

“You do know I could kick you out for loitering, right?”

Max scoffed. “Like you’d ever get rid of me.”

“Well, you’re pushing your luck,” Daryl mumbled, shaking his head. He pulled his gaze away from his friend, and slouched against the counter’s edge, allowing his tired body to forgo the upright customer service position he was forced to maintain during the day. Aside from Max’s wandering presence, the shabby Video Value store was empty. A stream of muffled rock music played through a speaker in the corner, filling the usual gaps of silence that Daryl would have been left with during a slow workday.

It was a cramped space, with the shelves creating a tight labyrinthic path around the store. Posters lined the surrounding white walls, covering nearly every inch of paint and the dull blue carpet added a nice contrast from the array of colorful VHS covers. Sometimes, when the workday was nothing more than a slow crawl, Daryl imagined his own face on the movie covers to pass the time.

“Where’d your co-worker run off to?” Max asked, from behind one of the displays.  

“Hell, if I know,” Daryl answered, “he went on his lunch break nearly two hours ago.”

“So, Mel just dumped the work on you again?”

Daryl heavily sighed, as if it might release the weight in his chest. “I don’t know why you’re asking, you already know he does.”

Mel was a slim, broad-shouldered man with a receding hairline and a ponytail tied too tight. He had been employed at Video Value for four years now, something he often boasted about to every approaching customer. Daryl wasn’t sure how he kept the job, as his work ethic was lazy and often included him taking prolonged breaks. As far as co-workers went, he was unbearable.

“Why even bother working here?” Max approached the counter; hands stuffed inside his worn hoodie and leaned against it. His presence was so close that Daryl could make out the familiar scent of his woody cologne, causing his stomach to coil. He cleared his throat, and properly stood up to, struggling to ignore how the fragrance coated his tongue with every breath he took. There was distance now, which allowed Daryl to properly look at his friend.

“I’m saving up for college,” Daryl replied, as if it were obvious.

Max’s lips curled into an amused smirk. “What, you think you’re gonna impress the trust fund babies up at Harvard with your minimum wage check?”

“God, Max, it’s not about that,” Daryl grumbled, feeling his back tense up in frustration. It seemed as if that school’s name sat on Max’s tongue every day, just waiting to fall into conversation. “I’m not trying to go in flat broke, that’s all.”

“I’m just saying,” Max said, throwing his hands up in defense, “if you wanna make some real money, then–

“It’s not fucking happening,” Daryl immediately said, cutting off his friend with a steel glare.

Max pushed himself off the counter and faced him with a leveled stare. Daryl blinked and felt something crawl up his spine at the sight of his friends’ dark eyes solely fixed on him. They were deep, like the dark corners of his bedroom, or the pervasive night skin that hung over his bedroom window. Daryl wondered that if Max looked at him long enough, that he might eventually see past him. The thought made his throat dry, as he shifted his gaze away to stare at the keychain display beside him.

“What’s your problem, you’re tryna make money, right?”

Daryl pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “I’m trying to save up, not land my ass in jail before I leave.”

“Right, before you leave,” Max muttered. The words sat between them, heavy with a strange bitterness that knocked Daryl back.

What followed was not silence, but the beginning of Remember the Nights by The Motels, as the song softly played from the speaker.