A nihilistic kid such as he never expected a cheery, unnerving redhead to be his savior. But somehow shit turned out that way, a lanky white man looking after some small Indian prince, how queer.

Now he was relieved when David rescued him from his abusive home, but he only took him as the 'counselor from that shitty summer camp'. Not a dad, not a father, not some buddy-buddy parent who you could trust with absolutely anything in the whole goddamn world.

He didn't truly see him like that. Just some stupid manchild who cared about stuff that was long gone. Like Camp Campbell, or knitting, KidzBop, or even just some broken kids that still kept this place running.

Living with David wasn't the absolute worse, actually, it was comforting. His small apartment became his home, and honestly, it felt so welcoming. After that short walk home from the hellhole that was his school, he'd set foot inside a tiny suite with the scent of sap and pine. Refreshing, especially since he was surrounded by companies that were all just for polluting the world around him.

"Hey, Max! How was your day?"

Plopping his bag down on the couch, he made his way to the belittled kitchen. He sat at the 'island', which really wasn't.

A plate of freshly made Samosas were sat in front of him. A ginger scent, which indicated that maybe this Canadian didn't half-ass on Indian cuisine.

"Fine, Ms. Trevor needs to stop with the racist BS though." He picked one up, chewing quietly.

Okay, it wasn't a bad Samosa. But the small smile he showed in appreciation didn't meet David's eyes.

"Racist? What exactly did she say?"

He finished his food, and took a deep breath.

Staring him straight in the eyes, he replies, "It smells like curry in here." Giving his voice a scratchy accent.

David lowered his head a bit, furrowing his eyebrows, "Soooo is that i-"

"Max, please stop bringing Shrimp Vindaloo to school, it's disgusting."

His eyes widen, "Oh, I'm sorry Max. Shocking such a nice school holds such mean teachers! Well golly, I'll have a chat with your principal tomorrow!"

Max never told something like this to anyone before, never did his parents once ask about school. It was nice, and David wasn't even bad at cooking Indian cuisine.

He shrugs, "It's fine, David."

"Max, racism is nothing to be wishy washy with! You shouldn't be treated differently by anyone there, everyone should treat everyone with respect."

Did David even know what kind if child he was talking to?

Holding his hands in defense, he scoffs, "David I will pay you an ass of cash just to stop saying outdated, shitty slang."

Pointing his finger at the jaded boy, he remarks a familiar, "language," to which Max rolls his eyes. Jumping off the stool, he grabbed his bag.

"Hey kiddo, got any homework?" He replies with the shake of his head, leaving towards his bedroom.

David goes to clean off the counter, discarding the plate into the sink. He notices Max looking at him for the hallway, showing his attention.

"Thanks for the Samosas by the way, they weren't half-assed like I assumed they'd be."

David returns with a chuckle, "You're welcome, Max."

He gives him a curt nod, and heads to his room.

After his shower, he comes into the living room. Seeing David following a knitting pattern from YouTube.

"Hey Max! Want to try?"

Max raises his eyebrows. "Uh nope. I'm not taking part in some queer shit."

"Max," David dragged his name out, clearly annoyed.

"That camp was a waste of time, David. Even having no chosen camp was better than that." He swats his hand at the man, dismissing knitting all together.

"C'mon. Was there even a camp you considered?"

The boy goes to sit by him, moving a pillow out the way to make some room.

"David, my parents never even bothered to show me what camps were even existent."

He stops mid-knit. Just processing the child's words. How crude that were from a child, and how he truly felt was sadness eloping within him.

He clutches the needles tightly, knuckles white. He didn't know what to say, how could he respond to that?

Silence ensues for a full five minutes.

He turns off the TV, and puts away the knitting supplies. Just staring at the blank screen.

"Max, I'm sorry."

He sees him frown, and regrets ever mentioning his god awful parents.

"Not exactly sure why you're apologizing."

He turns to the boy, "But I've seen the way you acted. You even kept telling me how awful they were, and I ignored you because of how I try too hard to cancel out the negativity of life. Max, it's my fault too."

Max gets up to stand in front of David. With an accusing finger pointed at him.

"Hey! My parents never giving a shit about me has never involved you! So stop being sorry, you're the one who's actually caring about a fucking monster like me!"

David didn't like seeing Max this way, it was what he was trying to rid him of. But he couldn't take everything that once was. Instead he was being the child, feeling guilty for behaving just like his parents.

But Max stood, reassuring him that David wasn't his parents. And honestly, that still made David guilty.

David watched Max slapped his head.

Opening his arms wide, he scoffs, "Come here, asshole."

He lights up at the chance to give Max a hug, and obliges.

It lasts 3 seconds before Max pulls away, "Jesus, this shit better not happen again. I can't hug your sappy ass."

David just chuckles, and ruffles the boy's hair. Damn, he had to admit, this was pretty sappy.

"Sorry, kiddo. That's how Grants roll, nothing else but hugs and that odd scent of pine that follows each us." Max smirked as he swatted his guardian's hand away.

He gives David the stink eye, "That shit ain't following me!"

David rolls his eyes, "Yeah Yeah, Max."

"I SWEAR-"