The First Night
They say the first night in a new place is the hardest.
And it usually is … but for Max there's something calming about being somewhere else; there's something nice about being able to escape from home life if only for a few months.
That's not to say it isn't weird to be away from home, and yeah, the empty tent is a little strange, but…
There's no one yelling, no one screaming. There's no strong hands around his throat or sharp nails digging into his skin. The only noise is the cricket's chirping and David's humming and the occasional chatter of the few other campers as they finish up their nightly routines (washing their faces, brushing their teeth).
It's nice.
It's safe.
The first night is easy and Max drifts off to sleep.
The second night is harder.
There's more campers now and yet Max is still alone in his tent.
Campers are starting to pair up and make friends and yet no one approaches Max and he isn't sure what to do.
Nights are louder now. He can hear David hopping between the tents, asking the campers to lower this voices and turn out their lights. He sounds a little frazzled and though he'd never admit it, Max feels a little bad for him. The other counselor (he thinks her name is Gwen?) seems to be keeping her distance. Max doesn't blame her. Some of the campers at Camp Campbell are fucking weird.
Like the magician. Or the space kid.
And then there's that weird elf girl.
It takes him a longer, but Max finally falls asleep around midnight, long after the other campers had turned in for the night.
It's even harder to wake up the next morning.
But he does it, after downing a large cup of black coffee.
He hates the taste, but it's the only way he can function.
The third night is the hardest of three.
Max is tired, absolutely exhausted and yet he can't fall asleep.
Owls hoot in the distance, their calls echoing through the forest. He doesn't like how the trees cast spooky shadows in the moonlight.
He is terrified and it's even worse because he's still alone.
He yearns for the sound of his mother's dry heaving, strangely craves the familiar scent of his father's cigarette smoke. Things that had once frightened him, sickened him...he longs for the familiarity.
Max is ten years old and sometimes he forgets that. His experiences have shaped him, forced him to mature faster than he can grow…so it surprises him sometimes when he gets those sad, depressing feelings and childish needs. Sometimes he forgets that it's normal for young children to miss their parents…to struggle when far away from home.
It doesn't feel normal to Max. It feels pathetic.
The fourth night David hears crying.
It's late, incredibly late. Almost one in the morning.
David himself had been on his way to bed, but on his way back from the mess hell (he and Gwen had sat and had a long chat. She was struggling and he had wanted to help. She told him he wouldn't understand) when he'd heard the noise.
He follows the sound from the mess hall to the camper's tent. He darts quickly from one to the other, his ear pressed gently against the mesh as he searches for the source of the sound.
It doesn't take him long to trace the noise to Max.
He knocks softly on the fabric door. The noise stops, but this doesn't deter the red-headed man.
"Max," David whispers, "Max are you alright?"
Silence.
David knocks again. His knuckle against the tent fabric makes a strange sound swish swish
"Go away, David." Max's voice is hoarse, his tone lacks its usual bite.
"Max."
There's a hiccup from the young boy. "What, David."
"Can I come in?"
There's a break again. David squats down and tries to peek in through the mesh door. He can just barely make out a small form curled up in a ball.
"Max?"
"You're not gonna go away until I say ok, are you?"
"Nope."
He can see the small form unfurl, hears Max's bare feet slowly pad to the door which he unzips the entrance in one quick stroke.
Max's watches him. Though his expression is set in his usual snarl, David can see that the boy's eyes are red and his cheeks are raw, but he doesn't comment on it.
"So," David says as he enters the tent and sits crisscross on the ground, "How are you adjusting?"
"Fine," Max replies quickly, his tone harsh. "I was doing great until your ass got here."
David clucks his tongue, "Language."
The younger boy rolls his eyes. "Whatever."
They sit in silence for a moment, Max on his bunk, David at his bedside. Though would never say it aloud, there was something calming about having David in the tent. He doesn't want him to leave.
David makes the first move. He reaches up and pulls himself up onto Max's bed beside the small boy. When Max doesn't tell him to move, he scoots closer.
"I can stay here tonight," David says after a while, he reaches out to touch Max's shoulder but the latter leans away. A look of hurt quickly passes over David's face, but he's quick to hide it.
"I don't need you to babysit me, David."
"I never said you did," replied the counselor, his tone cautious, but gentle, "In fact, I would be really grateful if you let me stay here tonight."
"Why's that?"
David shrugs, "I don't know. I'm feeling a little lonely tonight, little sad…I'd appreciate the company."
"What about Gwen?"
"I think she needs some time to herself."
Max contemplates that for a moment. He swings his feet of the bed and watches them wiggle.
"So you have nowhere to sleep then?"
"Guess not." Max's usual smirk crosses his face at this new information and for a moment, David is sure he's about to tell him to fuck off, but he doesn't.
With his eyes on his feet, Max says, "I guess you can stay here tonight. But don't tell anyone. And you need to leave before sunrise, I don't want anyone to see."
David chuckles again, "Okay Max." The elder man hops off the bunk and makes his way toward the door. "Let me just go grabs some blankets."
Max nods and watches intently as David unzips the tent.
"David?" the boy asks as David steps out.
"Yes, Max?" An owl hoots in the distance and they both jump.
"H-hurry back."
"Of course."