Max lives a secret double life, unbeknown to her long time friends at school. When Nick begins attending the same school as her, their lives begin to entwine closely, more so than both teens dared to believe they could when the friendship first blossomed. Will Max let him into her double life, or keep him shut out like the rest? Will Nick finally let someone in to see what goes on behind closed doors? M for language now, violence and insinuated rape later on.


This will be updated once a week, because its the fic i write when I get stuck writing The Road to Heaven =P So it gets bits added quite a lot while my brain ticks over. Probably on Fridays, if not then at some point over each weekend.

AU. No wings. My original story. JP owns the names and their personalities. And the fact Iggy is blind. Possibly a few other things if i remember what they are.


Part 1

A slender, pale arm ventured out of the bundle of blankets on the bed, aiming to hit the alarm clock rousing its owner from her slumber. After a few missed attempts, her thin fingers finally found the snooze button on top if the offending device and clicked it, retracting her arm back into the warmth of bed for a few more minutes.

When doing that five times led to her not being able to fall back to sleep, Max sat up straight in bed and instead turned the alarm clock off completely. She leant forwards a little and rubbed her eyes slowly, crossing her legs under the blankets and yawning before checking the time.

04:57

Wiping a hand across her face, Max yawned into her palm. Another day. It came too fast. Reluctantly, she swung her legs out of bed and pulled herself to her feet, slipping them into her slippers before padding into the bathroom.

Her chocolate brown eyes blinked sleepily as she reached behind the bathroom door to grab her robe, taking a glance at herself in the mirror as she tired secured the robe around her. She ran a finger along the bags under her eyes, letting a soft sigh escape her lips. There'd been so much to do recently, she hadn't had time to catch up on her sleep. Her dirty blonde hair looked scraggy and un-kept. She leaned in closer, examining he pale skin and slightly bloodshot eyes.

Early night tonight. Teacher's would start commenting soon.

Stepping softly down the stairs to the kitchen, Max pulled her favourite mug out of the cupboard with one hand and switched the trusty coffee machine on with the other, plopping two sugars into the empty mug and placing it under the not water nozzle.

She quickly headed out to the utility room and set about her usual morning tasks. Clothes needed to be removed from the dryer and folded on the table, ready to be put away. Clothes in the washer needed to be moved to the dryer. Dirty clothes needed to be separated into colours and a cycle put on. By the time she was finished, it was almost 05:25, and the coffee machine was blinking impatiently.

Pressing the 'pour' button on the coffee machine, it whirred into life, kicking up a small fuss before spitting some black coffee into the mug. Max pulled it from under the nozzle and stirred it, taking a quick sip.

No rest for the exhausted.

Placing the coffee mug back down on the counter, Max quickly set about getting out some boxes of cereal and placing them in exact spots on the part of the table not occupied by clothing. Milk was the next one to be set up, followed by glasses for juice.

To someone who didn't know Max's family, it could strike them that she was a little extreme, getting up at 5am just to do the washing. Not to mention exhibiting OCD traits with the extent to which she placed all the items with care around the table. Of course, the more observant would realise that she only did so for two of the place setting, of which there were four in total.

Those people would probably still be asking 'why?', though.

The answer isn't instantly obvious as her family make their way down for breakfast, sitting down in their usual seats and pouring their cereal. Each child and the adult present pick up their cereal with ease, pouring themselves a serving as they chatter about the weather or the news, something normal.

The evidence is when the eldest child reached out to where the milk usually was, but instead grabbed air. He furrowed his brow slightly, and felt about on the table a little, in case his aim was slightly off.

"Sorry," Angelica, the youngest child, held the milk jug out to him, gently tapping the side of his hand with the cool glass. Iggy shook his head to say it was no issue, tracing his fingers very lightly over the object and finding the handle before taking it from her.

It was then people twigged Iggy was blind.

Although it didn't look like it, Max and Iggy were related. He looked a lot like his father, fair skin and strawberry blonde hair, the only thing he got from his mother being the straightness of the hair on his head. He had his father's sense of humour, his smile, his bright blue eyes.

The blindness was a genetic gift he could have done without, but he didn't get a choice in the matter. Tests when he was a baby confirmed the boy was blind. It was depressing for both parents, that their second was afflicted with such a problem, and they decided not to have any more kids.

When Max was nine, Gary was brought into the world.

Now eight years old, Gary did look a lot like his dad. Blonde curls abounded on the boys head, and he had the same eye colour and tonnes of freckles across his face. The shape of his face was from his mother, slightly rounded and childish despite his skinny body, and his hair colour was somewhere between the two genetics in a sandy blonde.

Gary was a very sickly child. He spent a lot of time down the doctors as a baby and young boy, and even now had a lot of sick days off of school. He seemed to catch every disease going under the sun, was allergic to almost everything that touched his skin, and intolerant to a lot of foods. It lead to him affectionately being called 'the Gasman', because of the side effects.

Two years later little Angelica was born. She looked so much like Gasman it was unreal, still with resemblance to other siblings, but they could have been twins to the outside world. Angel sported lovely sandy blonde curls and her mother's baby face, her fathers bright blue eyes shining out and a few freckles banded across her nose.

Her name said it all. She was a little angel in every sense of the word, in the house, at school, even to strangers. She liked to be able to help and was always trying to even if you didn't let her. She was nicknamed Angel for that reason.

Max quickly shot upstairs to get dressed as they ate, getting ready to put on a mask for school. No one, not even the friends she'd known for years, knew how much stuff she did at home. She didn't want the pity, the so called understanding. She wanted to be normal, to have friends and joke and laugh with them. So she kept her life a secret, pretending she stayed up all night on the internet rather than doing the housework.

She looked at herself in the mirror, taking in the fitted red and blue checked shirt hanging open over a black corset top. The top cut just above her belly button, showing a small amount of skin until it reached her dark blue jeans, held up by a black belt since they were slightly too baggy for her. After dabbing a little concealer on the bags under her eyes, she pulled on a pair of black sandals and quickly ran a brush through her hair, making a note to wash it when she got home, before picking up her bag and jumping back down the stairs.

The others were all getting ready to leave for school, Gasman and Angel in their school uniforms. Iggy had a uniform as well, a navy blue blazer with white shirt and black trousers. His school had a well known uniform, so people wouldn't feel so awkward if they were asked to do something by a child wearing one.

It was for a blind school after all, they need assistance sometimes.

"Alright, out the door in two minutes guys, we're going to be late!" Max breezed back into the kitchen and gathered up the dirty plates, plonking them in the empty sink to deal with later. Noting her dad was gone, she made sure all the chairs were back where they should be. If anything was out of place he might fall over it and hurt himself.

She found him in the living room, trying to find the remote for the TV. He loved listening to the TV, said he could imagine what all the people looked like by their voices, what they were like, sometimes even why they acted that way in the first place. It was really strange.

"Carol's coming round at twelve," Max reminded him as she found and gave him the remote. He smiled slightly and clicked the 'on' button with expert precision. "She's going to make lunch. Ask if she minds getting the dishes done too, okay?"

"Ok." He placed the remote down on the sofa arm, closing his eyes as he leant back against the chair as he held a hand out to her. Max smiled slightly as raised her own, trickling her fingers over the back of his hand as she did every time she left him alone. She saw him frown, and mimicked it herself.

"I'll ask how much it is to get her to do the washing and stuff as well, maybe make dinner to reheat later," Her dad opened his sightless eyes and looked at Max with incredible accuracy, just a few inches off staring right into her own. "So you can get some sleep."

"I'm fine, Dad." Max said softly, taking his hand in hers and gently rubbing the back with her thumb.

"No, you're not. You're shaking." That was the main problem with concealer: It doesn't fool the blind.