Max genuinely doesn't remember how many times you two have broken up at this point.

It seems inevitable, the breaking apart and melding together the two of you do. Wearing each other like second skins until one of you grows weary, or cheats, or says something a bridge too far such that it's over.

Until it's not.

He doesn't like the house as much in the times when you're moved out. It does not have music in the kitchen, he cannot smell your candles and incense in the halls, your perfume doesn't linger the same in the carpet.

So, like any other time, he calls you.

"Hi, Schatz."