@rowanfisher
A quick text conversation between Rowan and Maddox which had started off a bit hostile turned quickly into tradition. Just as they had so many times before, Maddox showed up to Rowan’s house, six pack in hand, and a lot to catch up on. Back in the hospital, the two had been awkward since Maddox-- although moments before had been terrified to shit he was going to lose his best friend-- tried to bring a new air into her room. Back then, she hadn’t needed another person sobbing at her bed, even if the relief of seeing her threatened to bring him to the same position he was sure she had dealt with for hours before. Instead, they made small talk and acted like she hadn’t just fucking died.
Now, as Maddox knocked on the door before sitting down in his normal seat, placing the beers on the porch floor, he was just thankful he got to do this again. He was thankful to have another porch beer with Rowan Fisher. If there was a God, this is what Maddox would’ve prayed to them for.
“Brought beer, wasn’t sure if you’re cleared to drink it yet--” Maddox started when she came to the door. “But you can always sip on water or something and hope that whoever brought you back will turn it into wine,” he grinned.
