when one thinks of who to call when they need comfort food, brooke davis is hardly the first person that comes to mind. she doesn't cook - though she really did try this time, to her credit, but feeding max the end result just felt way too cruel - and her go-to when she needs a pick-me-up is a shopping spree instead. that was already not max's favorite activity even when she wasn't depressed, so brooke wouldn't even try to suggest it now.
her attempts to talk to max at school, on the days she bothers to show up, are short-lived with little to show for it. admittedly, brooke isn't sure how to go about this either. her brother died. horrifically, at that. no amount of pep talks from the resident cheer captain would be enough to make her feel better.
maybe max will be more willing to talk at home. at least that's what brooke tells herself as she knocks on the door to her trailer, a casserole in hand - that she had to borrow from one of the cheerleaders, after trying and failing to find one at home; her parents probably didn't even own one, honestly.
"max!" a smile is on her lips as soon as max finally opens the door, instinct more than it is genuine, an obvious attempt at lively conversation before inevitably shifting to a more somber tone. "i brought food." brooke lifts the casserole up for her to get a better look. "don't worry, it's storebought. i wouldn't risk poisoning you."
normally, max would've jumped on that right away, teased her right back by confirming her cooking really was atrocious... but there's barely any light in her eyes now, skin pale and frame much thinner since the last time they saw each other.
"you... weren't at school today." or the day before - or the day before that. "i figured i'd come check on you."
@2econdlead / b davis starter call
