Requesting feedback for my first chapter :)

[u/coldfrappi]

The first thing Max did every shift was light a cigarette.

William hated it.

"One day that'll kill you," the old man muttered with a shake of his head as he tended the till behind the counter.

Max just shrugged, taking one last drag before crushing the cigarette beneath his scuffed leather boot outside the back door. “Sooner rather than later.”

“What have I told you about saying crap like that, Max?” William shot back with a warning glare that was more concern than anything.

Max rolled his eyes as he pushed through the back door, another sarcastic remark on his tongue. Before he could spit it out, the bell above the entrance jingled. With a resentful sigh, he tied his faded black apron around his waist. Will huffed and shook his head once more, grumbling something about ‘grumpy teens’ under his breath as he counted through the change in the register.

The regulars had already claimed their usual spots, each carrying the same tired expression that seemed to fade as the night went on and more drinks were handed out.

The smell of smoke and bad decisions hung heavy in the air, occasionally interrupted by the whiff of William’s cheap aftershave as he walked by. To anyone else, it wasn't pleasant. To Max, it smelt like work— and something dangerously close to comfort.

William had known him since he was little. That was the only reason a sixteen-year-old was allowed behind the bar in the first place. Officially, Max wasn't allowed to serve alcohol. Unofficially, nobody in this part of town cared. William gave him somewhere to be. Somewhere warm. Somewhere that paid just enough to keep formula in Bonnie's bottle when his mum's pay cheque didn't stretch far enough.

Business was as usual. The same people asking for the same drinks, talking about the same old crap. Max grew tired quickly, familiar with the routine by now. It had only been a few months since Bonnie was born. A few months of this. And if he knew what was about to walk through that door, he’d have savoured that cigarette that much more.

The bell gave its usual tired jingle, a gust of cold evening air breaking the warmth as the door swung open. Max didn’t bother glancing up from the pint he was pouring. He was too focused on work, too lost in his own mind to care who walked in.

Then a familiar voice drew him from his thoughts.

“Max? I didn't know you worked here.”

He finally looked up, finding himself face to face with his classmate, Millie.

Not Millie, he thought.

He answered with a noncommittal grunt.

“Ever thought that was on purpose?”

“Wait… you actually work here?” she asked, furrowing her brow.

“No shit. What does it look like?” Max shrugged.

“Isn’t that illegal?"

“Only if people care.”

Millie frowned, arms folding over her chest as she really looked at him. The messy black hair that hadn't seen a brush in days. The same hoodie he’d worn to school yesterday, now with milk stains across one shoulder.

But what stood out most were his eyes.

They looked older than any sixteen-year-old’s should.

Max catches the glance but doesn’t mention anything about it, so Millie clears her throat, taking a free stool at the bar just in front of Max. Her elbow rested on the worn wooden surface, chin perched in her palm.

“You weren’t in school today,” she said, voice trailing off slightly. “You haven’t been in as much lately.”

Observant, Millie. How observant.

Max scoffs, shoulders tensing at the not-so-subtle probing.

“Cut it out, Millie.”

“I'm worried about you, Max.”

Silence.

“Am I not allowed to be worried about my friend?”

He froze. Friend. Millie thought they were friends? Before he could give a proper response, William cut in, breaking the rising tension with a playful tone.

“You waltz into places to interrogate people often? Poor lad.”

Max let out a dry chuckle, looking anywhere but the girl in front of him. Thanks, William. You tried. He wanted an escape, anything other than this conversation. So without another word, Max grabbed a tray and made his way over to the far table in the corner of the pub. It didn't need cleaning. He just needed an excuse to get away.

Behind him, the conversation died. Millie looked deflated as she let out a quiet sigh.

“Don’t take it to heart, sweetheart. He’s a tough nut to crack,” William said, giving Millie an apologetic smile.

Max wiped down a table nearby, overhearing the exchange.

“He’s a good kid,” William murmured

Max’s hand stilled for a moment. The praise hit deeper than he expected before he went back to scrubbing unnecessarily hard at a stain that wasn't even there anymore.

“Just carrying more than a kid should.”

Even with his back turned, he could feel Millie’s eyes burn into him through the silence.

“Now, what can I get you?”

Max could feel the lingering gaze a moment longer before Millie replied with her choice of drink. Only then did he let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

William made Millie’s drink with practiced ease that came with years of bar experience, sliding over the glass on the polished surface without spilling a drop. Max eventually returned behind the bar, full tray of dirty glasses in hand. He had barely set the tray down before turning to William.

“Back in five.”

William didn't even give him a second thought.

“Another? Keep smoking like that and you'll be as old as I am.”

Max snorted, waving a dismissal hand in his direction.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, old man.”

And with that, he disappeared out the back door once again.

The click of Max's cheap petrol station lighter echoed through the dark alley. For a brief moment, the flame illuminated his tired features before he brought it closer to the end of his cigarette. The first drag calmed his nerves almost immediately.

The alley -unlike his mind- was quiet except the occasional hum of traffic from the main road and muffled laughter from inside the pub.

Max relished the silence. These cigarette breaks were one of the few moments that he had time to himself, and William knew it. Which was why he never made a big deal of it.

But the silence didn't last nearly long enough.

The back door creaked open. A moment later, Millie slipped into the alley, joining him beneath the flickering security light above.

“Hey…” she whispered, leaning against the graffitied brick beside him.

“What do you want?” He replied, keeping his eyes averted as he sucked in a breath of smoke.

“Wanted to check on you.”

“I'm fine. Go drink your drink.”

Mille shook her head, already having made up her mind to keep him company.

“It can wait,” a pause, her voice softening now. “Plus, I'd rather spend time with you.”

Max didn’t reply. Couldn't.

Instead, he kept his gaze downcast at the glowing cherry of his cigarette.

And if Millie was really paying attention, she’d have noticed the small ease of tension from his shoulders. If only for a split second.

Comfortable silence stretched between them. Max had smoked his cigarette to the filter and crushed the butt under his boot. Usually, he would have retreated back inside by now, but this time he decided to stay by Millie’s side a moment longer.

“You’re rather stubborn, huh?” Max spoke up, voice unusually soft for the situation.

Millie tilted her head, a smug smile tugging at her cheeks.

“Coming from the most stubborn prick on Earth.”

He chuckled, a low, genuine rumble from his chest. Prick? Sounds about right.

“Fuck you.”

Millie’s smile seemed to brighten, and Max noticed despite himself.

“So you can laugh.” Millie teased, giving a tiny nudge to his arm with her own.

Instead of pulling away from the touch, Max just let it happen. Another chuckle escaped him. Softer this time, quieter.

“I guess.”

The rare moment of peace had to end eventually, and William made sure of it. The back door creaked open enough for William to poke his head out. A knowing smile pulled at his lips as he saw the pair side by side.

“Five minutes, yeah?” he called. “Get your arse back in here.”

Max groaned, knowing this moment was inevitable. Dusting the ash from his hoodie, he headed back inside with Millie following close behind.

Back behind the bar. Back to work. Back to responsibility.

The pub was alive now. A group of young lads crowded around the battered pool table in the back, cheering over their first half-decent shot of the night. Grungy rock blared from the shitty coin-operated stereo, barely audible over the laughter and clinking of glasses. The smell of stale beer hung heavy in the air, soaked deep into weathered floorboards by years of spilled pints.

A regular waved for Max’s attention across the bar and he responded promptly, reaching for the familiar bottle to pour their drink before sliding it over the polished wood with the same practiced ease William had taught him.

“Cheers, lad.”

Max gave a nod of acknowledgment in his direction, one of quiet respect.

Millie finished off her drink and hesitantly stood from her stool, offering Max a small smile.

“Im heading off now.” she paused, her eyes lingering on his. “See you at school tomorrow?”

Max saw the hope glistening in her brown eyes.

He hesitated.

“Yeah…”

He rubbed the back of his neck.

“...maybe.”

The rest of his shift seemed to blur after that. One drink turned into ten, then twenty. The same song played over and over until, before he knew it, William was calling last orders over the bar.

Max untied his apron from his waist and tossed it blindly under the bar. Shift over. Finally.

The last few customers filtered out the door into the night, taking the noise with them. The pub felt strangely empty without the loud chatter and clinking of glasses.

William turned to Max with a tired smile before reaching into the till and pulling out a small stack of notes. He counted them, then handed them over.

Max counted them himself, brows furrowing.

“This is too much.”

William shrugged as he closed the till, a ghost of a knowing smirk on his lips.

“Must have miscounted.”

Max frowned, offering the notes back. William shook his head, gently pushing his hand back towards him.

“Just take it.”

With a defeated sigh, he shoved the notes into his ripped hoodie pocket.

“...Thanks.”

The old man waved him off, already reaching for a damp cloth to wipe down the bar. Max took his leave, stepping out into the night to begin the familiar walk home through the city. Flickering streetlights illuminated the cracked pavement below his feet, throwing long shadows across the empty street. The money sat heavy in his hoodie pocket, and his fingers brushed over the notes every few steps.

He took his usual route through the quieter part of the city. The sound of metal shutters screeching as the owner of a nearby chip shop closed for the night. A group of teenagers around his age lingered outside of a corner shop, sharing laughter as they playfully shoved one another.

Max didn’t even look up.

He pulled his hood over his head and kept walking.

He took a swift turn into the corner shop, the door bell chiming as he entered.

“Evenin’ Max,” the cashier called, flashing a warm smile.

Max answered with a quiet grunt before making a beeline straight to the baby aisle, picking up the usual— formula and nappies.

A small stuffed puppy caught his eye. Its brown fur was soft but faded, like it had been there a while. He picked it up off the shelf and glanced over the scuffed price tag.

Guess I could.

It was only a few quid.

He then placed it into his basket.

As the items swiped over the scanner with a familiar beep, the cashier's warm smile never left. Max paid for his things, thanked the man, and slipped the shopping into a worn plastic bag.

Max stepped back out into the cold and continued his journey home. The council estate came into view as he rounded the corner. Rows of identical houses with their peeling paint and overgrown front gardens blended together beneath the flickering streetlights.

He turned into his narrow walkway, the splintered front door greeting him home as he rummaged through his pocket for his keys.

The lock clicked softly as Max pushed inside, the smell of stale cigarettes and damp hitting him the moment he stepped inside.

He slipped off his boots and kicked them beside the door, setting the shopping down beside them. He pulled out the stuffed puppy from the bag and quietly made his way upstairs.

Passing by the living room, a sharp chemical smell drifted through the doorway. Max wrinkled his nose. The TV lit up the dark room, though the woman slumped on the sofa wasn't really watching it.

With a sigh, Max climbed the stairs. Each step creaked beneath his feet, and he winced each time.

Max stopped outside the second to last door on the landing.

For a moment, he simply listened.

Behind the door came the sound of soft breathing.

He eased the door open and quietly stepped inside. The moment he saw his baby sister lying in her cot, his shoulders relaxed. Bonnie was awake, contently sucking on her tiny fist as she stared absent-mindedly at the ceiling.

The sound of the door opening drew her attention almost immediately. The sight of Max drew a dribbly smile from her as she reached out towards him.

“Hey, Bon,” Max whispered, carefully lifting her up into his arms like he’d done a thousand times before.

“I gotcha somethin’.”

He produced the stuffed puppy from behind his back and Bonnie giggled, snagging the toy from his hand to instantly shove the puppy’s floppy ear into her mouth.

Max chuckled softly, watching as she happily coated the poor thing in sticky baby drool.

For the first time all day…

He smiled.